“You got the map?” Mom asks.
I pull it from my bag and spread it out on my lap. “We can make it there today if we don’t go too far off track,” I say tracing the route to the lake and cabin with my fingers. The route we’d taken from Raleigh was anything but direct and I had a feeling we’d end up doing the same to get the rest of the way to the cabin.
She backs out the car and I flip the switches, allowing a gust of cold air to blow through the car. The recycled air smells clean—unlike the smoke that has lingered on our clothes and hair since we left home. Mom laughs with delight and I breathe in—hoping to dispel the insecurity from the night before.
Mom reaches over and squeezes my leg. “New day, Alex. I told you last night that we’ve got this.”
She turns onto the main road and turns to the right, never looking down the other way. Why would you? We’re the only vehicle out here. But I do look. Out of habit. Maybe a sixth sense? Or is it just the simple swaying back and forth that caught my attention. I only catch a glimpse before my mom speeds off toward the future—toward something better. But that glimpse tells me something is wrong. Very, very wrong. In the side mirror I see the large metal, rural mailbox jutting from the ground and an Eater chained to it.
Chapter Forty-Seven
~Now~
The window shudders from the weight of the two men, both caught in a fight for their lives. Well, really just one. 1029 kicks the already doomed, spider-eyed 1028 in the chest, crashing him into the glass. It’s a feeble attempt to get back to the safety of his cage. 1028 is in full E-TR virus rage at this point. I don’t know how long the man can hold him off.
“Help!” 1029 screams in the direction of the Drones, hiding behind their own locked, plexi-glass shield. His dark eyes are wide with fear. His chest heaves with adrenaline. The Drones do nothing more than make notes on their charts. I think we know who the real monsters are in here.
“How long do you keep this up?” I ask forcing myself to watch. Cole’s hand latched to mine the minute the men were released from the cage. He squeezes it in support.
“Until the Eater infects 1029. We have to see if the vaccine works.”
“And this is the only way? A fight to the death.”
“There’s a reason to my methods,” Erwin declares, but the darkness behind his eyes implies otherwise. He’s nothing more than a power hungry sociopath.
“I’m not watching this,” I declare and stand. A heavy hand comes down on my shoulder and I hear the familiar cock of Richardson’s gun. I glance over my shoulder. “Do you ever put that thing away?”
“Never,” he replies, his voice firm.
Another scream echoes through the adjacent room and I see that 1028 has become completely unhinged. His pale face has turned red and sweat pours down his cheeks. He tears his shirt and kicks the walls. Drool falls from his lower lip and his feet shuffle across the room. He’s one heartbeat away from a goddam zombie. He rushes 1029, cornering him against the back wall. The human has no chance—he’s not amped up on parasitic crazy juice and he’s got nowhere to run.
I do force myself to watch as they have a final, desperate scuffle. 1029 loses his footing, allowing the E-TR to grab his arm. He bites down quickly, ravaging his flesh, but before he can do further damage a loud alarm shrieks. Fully dressed soldiers enter the room to subdue the E-TR, while medical Drones, also dressed in protective wear, remove the screaming victim.
“Holy shit,” Cole says next to me, but his voice is barely audible over the soldiers fight with the E-TR. Four men manage to contain him by pressing his back against the window in front of us. His matted red hair flattens against the glass. Bile rises in the back of my throat.
Erwin steps toward the intercom and presses the red button. “Take him down,” he commands. Before he even finishes his statement a soldier holds up a knife and stabs it through his head. The Eater slides to the floor, leaving sweat and blood in a long swipe against the glass.
I take a deep breath and ask Erwin, “What happens now?”
“There are a couple of possibilities, Ms. Ramsey. 1029 is already in the medical bay where he has been given a dose of the E-TR antidote our team has developed with your blood contribution.”
“You said the likelihood of the antidote working wasn’t one hundred percent.”
“No, at this point it isn’t. We’ve had to start from scratch—as you’re well aware.”
“What happens next? More tests?” Cole asks. His hand is still clutching mine. Erwin’s eyes flick down to where they rest together on the chair.
“Unless you or Ms. Ramsey is able to come up with additional information, like the location of her father or data from the original trials, then yes, more tests.”
I nod to the blood splattered window and say, “And you’ll kill more people? I keep telling you, I don’t know anything about my father or this virus!”
“That’s unfortunate,” Erwin says gravely. “Luckily, we’ve already picked up and prepped our next test subjects. Traitors are easier to locate than you’d expect.”
Without taking his eyes off of me, he presses the intercom again. In a chillingly calm voice he says, “Open the doors.”
A loud buzzer sounds, the kind that I’ve learned is triggered by a security door being unlocked. Two people enter the room, both with hands tied behind their backs, hoods over their heads. They wear the same outfits as the last two. Army pants and a gray shirt with a number stamped across the chest—1030 and 1031. The small frame on one gives away the fact that it’s a woman.
They’re each shoved in a clear cage. 1030—the one with broad male shoulders, fights back, head butting his handler. A second solider comes over and pushes him into the cage so hard he crashes and falls against the side. The doors are latched and 1030 has already jumped to his feet.