Meilin and the Challenger Page 4

  The shower stall held enough bottles for ten people. Probably because more men than that had used it. He examined a bottle of shampoo. Unscented, good. The less he added to his human scent, the better.

  He had every intention of claiming his reward. Maybe Meilin, too, if she wanted him.

  The hot water eased the tension from his muscles, and he stepped from the bathroom more relaxed, and cleaner, than he’d been in too long. Towel wrapped around his waist, he headed for the closet. He’d select a set of clothes, then hit the rack for some sleep. He hadn’t gotten much last night, and tonight would be even busier.

  “Feel better?” a woman asked.

  Meilin? No, but he knew that voice. “What do you want, Zoe?”

  “Not you.” She twirled the chair around. “Don’t flatter yourself, soldier.”

  “I have no doubt you want me gone, permanently. But why are you here?”

  “You guessed it. I want you gone. Permanently.”

  “I have a job to do.” He had the feeling she objected, but why?

  “I don’t know what your game is, McGregor, but I don’t buy your mama’s boy act. I’m not about to let you bankrupt my father with demands, not during your stay here.”

  He pulled a hanger from the closet to check the size of the black pants. “What about afterward, when I claim the prize?”

  “You won’t last a week.”

  “I’ve been known to last quite awhile.” He winked.

  She rolled her eyes. “Don’t bother with lame lines like that one on my sister, either. Quit trying to impress her.”

  Had she eavesdropped? Or did the two sisters think so much alike despite their outward differences? “Have I?” He feigned innocence. “Which sister?” Had Meilin spoken of him to Zoe?

  “Look, McGregor. She’s turned down much better men than you.”

  He wouldn’t admit he’d heard it before. “Once this is over, if Meilin turns me down, I’ll respect her wishes. If I survive, of course.”

  Triumph filled her grin. “So you knew I meant Meilin.”

  Shit. Caught too easily. Better to shift the topic away. “At this time, Ms. King, I’m focusing on helping your father save this city.”

  Intensity replaced her humor. “Don’t get any ideas about claiming our inventions as your own and pretend you’re a big hero.”

  More than one invention? He’d have to find out more. Later. “I don’t rely on gadgets, Zoe. I have a few methods of my own.”

  “Such as?” she asked in a bored tone.

  Nice try. He smiled sweetly. “I’d rather surprise you.”

  “Last night you surprised us enough. Don’t do it again.”

  He tossed the clothes onto the bed. “I can’t promise anything.”

  “McGregor—”

  He padded toward her, and backed her to the door as he said, “Ms. King, I’m afraid I must ask you to leave. I have to prepare for tonight.” With that, he whipped off the towel.

  With a yelp, she fled the room.

  “Ahh. Quiet.” Perfect for sleep, exactly what he needed. If Zoe the Terrible didn’t haunt his dreams.

  Nor Meilin, though dreaming of her would bring exquisite pleasure, it would also cloud his mind. He had to stay clear-headed, stay focused, and stay one step ahead of them all.

  Chapter Three

  “Everything still intact?” Zoe called from the truck.

  “Yes.” Meilin scanned the outdoor dance floor. “Everything but the trash bag. At least one of them fell for it.” The bag in tatters, some zombie must have mistaken it for a human, thanks to the condensed scent Lakshme had applied.

  “Good.” Zoe shouldered her rifle. “It means the worker bees have no brains of their own.”

  “Except the scout zombie.” Dharma frowned in the direction of the trees. “Sounded like he knew exactly what he was doing.”

  “It makes no sense. They can’t evolve, can they?” Meilin directed her question to Mireille, her sister lab rat.

  “They can’t,” Mireille said. “But the pathogen can.”

  Lakshme glanced up. “Have you found evidence?”

  “I think so,” Mireille said. “The sample I took last month showed marked differences from last year’s sample, but I didn’t know what it meant. It must indicate an adaptation to more desperate conditions. Travelers to City are less frequent, and they’ve probably frightened away most of the local wildlife.”

  “Which means,” Lakshme said, “Their food supply’s shrinking, so they have to become more aggressive.”

  “Survival of the fittest, baby.” Meilin kicked a speaker. “Shit.”

  “Hey, we’re the fittest,” Zoe said. “Not them. Get your asses in gear and we’ll show them. Ciara, did you scent the new bag?”

  “Yes.” Ciara jerked her head toward the truck. “And the bottle’s safe in the cooler in the back.”

  Zoe nodded her approval. “Everyone else applied the spray to mask your human scent?”

  Like the others, Meilin answered yes. “Don’t let the spray fool you into letting down your guard. We must maintain our vigilance, even knowing for certain the spray does what it’s supposed to do.”

  “Well said.” Surprise sounded in Zoe’s voice.

  After inserting her iPod into the amplifier, Lakshme turned. “Wonder if the zombies’ musical tastes evolved as well.”

  “Let’s find out.” Zoe pointed. “Hit it.”

  Oh yeah, one of Meilin’s favorites. The speakers blasted it, the vibrations pounded through the floor, urging her to move her feet. She gave in, let her body follow the beat. Zombies hadn’t evolved into speed demons, so she and her sisters had some time yet.

  “Am I late for the party?” a man called.

  Her heart pounding harder than the bass drum, she whirled. “Will.” She lowered her weapon and relaxed her stance, but found her knees wobbly. Shit, he cleaned up nicely. Washed of its layer of grime, his light brown hair had a sheen, and his blue eyes reflected the lights. “You could get yourself killed, you know.”

  “I’m hoping not to.” He stepped closer. “May I have this dance?”

  Girlish giddiness bubbled up, but fell flat when movement in the trees caught her eye. “Next time. We have company.” To her sisters, she called, “Heads up.” Or off – the only way to destroy a zombie: blow out their brains, the pathogen’s control center. Once the host brain stopped functioning, the parasite shriveled up and died, too.

  Her sisters danced to where they’d stashed their guns. Meilin swayed, waiting for the band of deadheads to shuffle nearer. Hard to tell how many this time. More than last night, for sure.

  Gun in hand, Will stepped beside her. “I hope you brought extra rounds of ammo.”

  “Damn, the spray.” She should have though to keep a small bottle of it in case Will showed up. “Come on, it’s in the truck.” She grabbed his hand and tugged him off the dance floor to where the truck was hidden by leafy cover.

  He resisted. “No, there’s no time.”

  A zombie lurched from behind a tree, arms flailing ahead and moaning loudly.

  Will braced his revolver and aimed. The bullet tore into the center of the zombie’s skull, and it dropped. “One down. Lots more to go.”

  Shit, how many were there? She stepped beside him and opened fire. With expert control, she leveled her rifle and felled zombie after zombie, always with an eye to her side for sneak attacks.

  Will yelled, “Watch out – one at your five o’clock.” At the same time, one roared close by. She swiveled her rifle toward the noise. A zombie hand stopped the barrel and crushed it.

  “What the…” Shit! She whipped out the revolver tucked into the back of her belt.

  Another zombie knocked it from her hand. “Will!”

  He wrestled with a zombie, gnashing its teeth at him. “Be right with you.”

  “I’m not much for waiting.” Much as she hated to use it, she unsnapped the metal stake from her belt and drove it into the temple of the nearest
walking dead. Two problems with this type of hand-to-hand combat: the awful pop as the zombies’ skin gave way and emitted a burst of stench worse than anything she’d ever smelled, and second, having to then remove the stake to reuse it. The sloshing of decaying flesh filled her ears.

  “Eww.” Nausea wrenched her stomach, but she forced herself to grip the metal rod and plunge it at the advancing zombie. She hesitated a moment too long. “I know you.” One of her former teachers, a woman she’d once considered a mentor. Meilin heard she’d disappeared, but hoped the teacher had met a swift end.

  The woman growled, her features mottled with rot.

  “Sorry, Mrs. Zeng.” She ducked the zombie’s embrace, wishing it could have been under better circumstances. Meeting her in the city while shopping, maybe; asking how she’d been, what she’d been up to. No need to ask now. Mrs. Zeng had been eating other people’s brains.

  The zombie stumbled. Meilin didn’t have the heart to use the stake on her, so gave her the swift end she deserved and severed her frontal lobe with a bullet.

  Whatever melancholy swept over her vanished at hearing her sisters’ cries. “No.” Zombies were dragging them into the trees. A line of zombies followed more slowly, clearly a line of defense as they retreated.

  She raised her gun, but couldn’t pull the trigger. She might kill one zombie, but couldn’t kill them all in time. Those freaks would snap her sisters’ necks.

  A thud sounded, and a moan of pain. She whirled as Will struggled with a zombie, and another zombie lurched for her. It knocked her rifle away, sending her backward. Her head hit the truck’s door handle. Pain paralyzed her. She cried out, and slid down the truck. Muscles useless, she couldn’t muster the strength to stand again.

  Before losing consciousness, she distantly registered two loud pops in quick succession, and two zombies collapsing nearby. Then Will crouched beside her and whispered, “Quick, we have to hide.” Strong arms grabbed her around the waist, and dragged her beneath the truck. Tugging a tree branch alongside them, Will said, “Shhh.”

  Relaxing into him, she gave in to the blackness crowding her vision. A kaleidoscope of images whirled through her head: Zoe taunting her after losing a fencing match when they were thirteen, Dharma beaming her zenlike smile, Mireille and Ciara at the computer developing computer code, Lakshme fading to black, softly pleading, Help us, Meilin.

  “I will,” she whispered, the effort stealing her last bit of consciousness.

  ***

  Alarm ripped through Will at the moaning sound. He reached for his gun, and then realized the sound had come from him. His head hurt like hell. Some damn zombie had tried to knock him out cold.

  Not a good first day on the job.

  In the dark, the cramped space made his heart thunder in his chest. His muscles tensed, and his arms closed tighter around a body. Alive, but shallow breaths. Last he remembered, he had been fighting beside… “Meilin.” He patted her cheek. “Hey, you all right?”

  She tilted her head up. A sharp intake of air, and she scrambled backward.

  He relaxed his hold so as not to send her into a frenzy. “It’s me. Will. You’re safe.” Freaked out, but that was understandable. He was a little freaked himself. Logic told him the truck wouldn’t crush them, but claustrophobia didn’t silence the screaming in his head. He had to get the hell out in the open, where he could breathe. First, he had to calm Meilin.

  “Are they gone?” Her voice quivered.

  He eased near enough to wrap his arms around her again. “Yes.”

  “My sisters.” Meilin clutched his chest and sobbed. “We have to find them.”

  “We will.” He smoothed her hair, so silky to the touch. Holding her eased his terror, however irrational. He didn’t mind the tiny space so much with her there with him.

  She pushed against him. “We have to get out of here.”

  “You read my mind.” He kicked the tree branch away, scooted out from the truck, drawing her along with him. Head throbbing, he sat up and gulped in air. “Are you okay?” If he remembered right, she’d hit her head earlier.

  She struggled to stand but dropped to her knees. “Let’s go. Before anything happens to them.”

  No way could they function in this condition. “Do you have a first aid kit in the truck?”

  She eased back to sit on the ground. “Yes.”

  He pushed himself up, then helped her up, too. “We need pain reliever, disinfectant, maybe antibiotic ointment.” He touched the back of his head and winced. A bump, and as he suspected, a gash, not too deep but he knew better than to let it go untreated. He had enough problems. “Do you have any cuts?”

  She rubbed her temple. “I don’t know.”

  “Let’s check.” He guided her to the back of the truck, opened the door and pulled her inside.

  She switched on the interior light and bent to retrieve a metal box, but her body went lax.

  He caught her and shifted her onto the padded bench. “Whoa, easy.” From the blood trickling from behind her ear, she had a nasty cut. He tilted her head and followed it to the back of her head. “You might need stitches, my girl.”

  “No time.”

  “Hey, we’re not risking your life, too. If we go charging after them with you half-conscious, you’ll get us both killed.” He flipped open the box, removed two packets of ibuprofen and ripped them open. “Any bottled water?”

  She gestured to a cooler. “In there.”

  He opened two and handed her one, along with the pain reliever. “Take these.” He downed his at the same time, then turned to the task of cleaning her wound. She sucked air through her teeth when he dabbed antiseptic along it, but didn’t complain. “You definitely need a stitch or two. Keep pressure on it with this. Are the keys in the ignition?”

  “We have to at least track them, or the trail will go cold.”

  He heaved a breath. She was right. “Okay, but first, we rest a bit.” He silenced her argument. “As soon as you feel strong enough, we’ll go. You need to be able to carry your own weight. I certainly can’t,” he teased, though it was true. Not tonight, anyway.

  They finished their water in silence. Meilin grasped the rail, pulled herself up and stood at the back of the truck. “Are you ready?”

  “If you are.” The girl was a trooper, he’d give her that.

  “I told you, I’m no good at waiting. Let’s go.” She descended none too gracefully, but stayed upright.

  He followed, ready to catch her again if she went down, splitting his attention between her and the ground. Easy enough to follow the trail, with the underbrush trampled. The trails split into three, and he tugged her to a halt. “We should follow the center one.”

  “No, too obvious. This one.” She pointed to the left.

  “They wouldn’t go that way. It leads to the highway.”

  Holding her head, she stared off into the darkness. “Eventually, but I bet these trails converge again.”

  Obviously, not thinking clearly. “So we should stay with the center one.”

  She huffed. “Fine. Unless we split up.”

  “No.” He’d might never find her if she fainted, or worse yet, a zombie might find her first, and she didn’t have the strength to fight.

  A soft grunt sounded, too near. He grabbed her. “Stay close.” Didn’t sound like a zombie, but had they learned to imitate humans to lure them?

  Her grasp tightened. “Someone’s over there on the ground.”

  “Meilin,” said a scratchy female voice.

  “Zoe!” Meilin rushed to her sister and dropped to her knees. “Are you badly hurt?”

  Her sister struggled to prop herself up on an elbow. “Not as bad as the zombies who tried to kidnap me.”

  “How did you manage to get away?” And why hadn’t she saved the others?

  “We’d fallen behind. I pretended to trip, and grabbed my revolver from my boot. Not my weapon of choice, but enough to take them down.” Zoe squinted into the darkness, where two f
orms sprawled. “There.” Her shoulders sagged. “I fell and hit my head, so it’s a little fuzzy, but I bet they’ll send someone back to search for us.”

  “We better hurry then. Are you able to walk?” Will didn’t hide his hope; Zoe’s height put her at eye level with him, so carrying her would kill him about now.

  “I’ll try.” She reached up.

  He locked onto her forearm. Lifting her was enough of a chore, but she steadied herself on her feet.

  Meilin swiped her brow. “I should have grabbed some extra water.”

  Zoe asked, “Are you feeling ill?”

  “No.” Meilin swayed. “Maybe a little light headed.”

  Will braced her against him. “Enough for tonight. I’m calling it.”

  “Please, we can’t stop.”

  “We can’t go on, either, Meilin. You need treatment. So does Zoe.”

  Meilin’s lip quivered. “Why did they leave us?”

  “Good question.” They had to know they’d left a few behind. Maybe they wanted witnesses to report back to Mr. King, but that notion implied the zombies were more than sentient. They were plotting against them.

  And had taken the sisters for ransom.

  But for what?

  He steered her back the way they’d come. “We’ll find the answers after we get you some medical attention.”

  He hoped.

  ***

  On her fifteenth birthday, Meilin had ‘borrowed’ her father’s car. So busy with his duties as mayor, he never used it anymore. He never did anything he liked, barely overseeing the lab. The car was a mechanical work of art. She loved the feel of sitting behind the wheel, the instrument panel gleaming, gear shift in hand, the keys dangling from the ignition begging her to roar the engine to life. So she took it for a quick spin, which turned literal when it slid on a patch of ice and came to rest in a ditch. In her room for hours before facing him, she thought her heart might fail her.

  It paled in comparison to the fear paralyzing her, sitting in his office with Will and Zoe. What could she tell Father to allay his fears? To explain her gross incompetence?