of us charged with defending life. I could feel that, as surely as I felt the cold wind pouring through the open window of the truck. “We need to find the others,” I said. “And stop Priya.”
“Priya?”
“Djinn.” Irubbed my face with both hands, wishing I could rub all of this misery away as easily. “She was here, carrying a plague. It kills fast and lingers long. He won’t be her only victim. We need to find those who came to this store before we did and try to heal them.”
Luis looked as grim as I felt. “Even if you were a full Djinn, that’d be a hat trick,” he said. “You said it kills fast. They wouldn’t get far. What we need to do is find their bodies and burn them—but
you
need to go after Priya while we do that. Only way this works is if we split up. Me and the girls, you after the Djinn.”
It made sense, and I took a deep breath and nodded. “I need transportation.”
He gave me an unexpected grin, but there was little humor in it. “Yeah, well, I checked the nav system. Turns out there’s a biker bar about two miles ahead. I’m pretty sure someone will be happy to give up their chopper for the cause.”
A motorcycle. Freedom, and the wind in my face, and the exultance of the chase.
I smiled back, with just as much of the predator in my smile as I’d seen in his. “I’m sure,” I agreed, and pressed the accelerator hard.
As I parked the truck at Busty’s Roadhouse, I admired the selection of two-wheeled vehicles neatly lined up outside. Gleaming, well-maintained machines, with the addition of a few muddied, hard-ridden trail bikes. I immediately focused on a Victory; the sleek shape drew me to it like a magnet. This particular model was different from my cherished Vision; it was more aggressive, muscular, heavily chromed, and a steel-hard blue.
I loved it.
“Cass.” Luis had gotten out of the truck, and was nowquietly standing beside me. When I looked up at him, he jerked his chin toward the roadhouse. “Too quiet in there for this many guys.”
He was right. I’d been caught up in my fascination with the machine, but now as I looked in that direction, I realized that I heard music playing inside, but nothing else. No laughs, shouts, conversation. I turned and saw the grim set of Luis’s face. We didn’t need to speak about it. I nodded and led the way into the building.
They were all dead. All of them. The bodies lay everywhere, fallen and limp and silent; the jukebox still banged out a loud tune from the corner, but it was playing to an unhearing audience. I crouched next to the first one nearest the door—a barmaid, dressed in shorts and a tight red top, young and fit—and looked at her face.
“It’s the same,” I said. Her eyes had the same redness, and the smell of vomit was overwhelming in this abattoir, mixed with other rancid odors that made my stomach clench hard in reaction. “Look in Oversight.”
I did it at the same time Luis did, and heard him murmur,
“Dios.”
The room was a rolling boil of black and red, infection and disease and agony. The bodies crawled with it. I saw the stuff trying to jump from the bodies around me to my own, and edged backward. “Spread by contact, looks like,” Luis said. “These boys must have grabbed stuff at the store back there and come straight here, just as they started dying. Anybody they touched got it, too.”
“Then someone should have lived to make it to the motorcycles, or to a vehicle,” I said. “Humans are masters of self-preservation. Someone must have tried to exercise it, and run.”
“We don’t know how long the symptoms take to set in. Could be seconds, could be minutes.” Luis shook his head. “Gotto be thirty people in here, Cass. And they haven’t been dead long.”
“I’m more concerned with any that might have gotten away. If they make it to a point where they can infect larger groups that disperse…” As
“Priya?”
“Djinn.” Irubbed my face with both hands, wishing I could rub all of this misery away as easily. “She was here, carrying a plague. It kills fast and lingers long. He won’t be her only victim. We need to find those who came to this store before we did and try to heal them.”
Luis looked as grim as I felt. “Even if you were a full Djinn, that’d be a hat trick,” he said. “You said it kills fast. They wouldn’t get far. What we need to do is find their bodies and burn them—but
you
need to go after Priya while we do that. Only way this works is if we split up. Me and the girls, you after the Djinn.”
It made sense, and I took a deep breath and nodded. “I need transportation.”
He gave me an unexpected grin, but there was little humor in it. “Yeah, well, I checked the nav system. Turns out there’s a biker bar about two miles ahead. I’m pretty sure someone will be happy to give up their chopper for the cause.”
A motorcycle. Freedom, and the wind in my face, and the exultance of the chase.
I smiled back, with just as much of the predator in my smile as I’d seen in his. “I’m sure,” I agreed, and pressed the accelerator hard.
As I parked the truck at Busty’s Roadhouse, I admired the selection of two-wheeled vehicles neatly lined up outside. Gleaming, well-maintained machines, with the addition of a few muddied, hard-ridden trail bikes. I immediately focused on a Victory; the sleek shape drew me to it like a magnet. This particular model was different from my cherished Vision; it was more aggressive, muscular, heavily chromed, and a steel-hard blue.
I loved it.
“Cass.” Luis had gotten out of the truck, and was nowquietly standing beside me. When I looked up at him, he jerked his chin toward the roadhouse. “Too quiet in there for this many guys.”
He was right. I’d been caught up in my fascination with the machine, but now as I looked in that direction, I realized that I heard music playing inside, but nothing else. No laughs, shouts, conversation. I turned and saw the grim set of Luis’s face. We didn’t need to speak about it. I nodded and led the way into the building.
They were all dead. All of them. The bodies lay everywhere, fallen and limp and silent; the jukebox still banged out a loud tune from the corner, but it was playing to an unhearing audience. I crouched next to the first one nearest the door—a barmaid, dressed in shorts and a tight red top, young and fit—and looked at her face.
“It’s the same,” I said. Her eyes had the same redness, and the smell of vomit was overwhelming in this abattoir, mixed with other rancid odors that made my stomach clench hard in reaction. “Look in Oversight.”
I did it at the same time Luis did, and heard him murmur,
“Dios.”
The room was a rolling boil of black and red, infection and disease and agony. The bodies crawled with it. I saw the stuff trying to jump from the bodies around me to my own, and edged backward. “Spread by contact, looks like,” Luis said. “These boys must have grabbed stuff at the store back there and come straight here, just as they started dying. Anybody they touched got it, too.”
“Then someone should have lived to make it to the motorcycles, or to a vehicle,” I said. “Humans are masters of self-preservation. Someone must have tried to exercise it, and run.”
“We don’t know how long the symptoms take to set in. Could be seconds, could be minutes.” Luis shook his head. “Gotto be thirty people in here, Cass. And they haven’t been dead long.”
“I’m more concerned with any that might have gotten away. If they make it to a point where they can infect larger groups that disperse…” As
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