3 hours
They needed Light’s help to dig out the meteor and its wagon and to carry them up the fragile staircase. As they did that, Fallon filled Book in on their progress. “Just get it back to that basin,” Book said. “I’m dispatching another chopper right now.”
“Another?”
“Somebody shot down the first one. It was pretty close to you, which means there’s someone in the neighborhood with an RPG. Watch yourself.”
“I will, Book, thanks.” She turned to Light, whose limp was becoming ever more pronounced. “How are you doing on ammo?” she asked him.
“One magazine left, after this one,” Light said. “And it’s mostly gone.”
“Us, too,” Fallon said. “We’ve each used some of our last one.”
“I guess we’d better hope we don’t have to do much more shooting.”
“With the helicopter coming, we shouldn’t have to,” Lilith said.
“Your lips, God’s ear,” Light said.
They hauled the wagon through the garage and put it down in the street. She looked toward the Escalade.
The fire had spread through most of the houses on the block, sending ribbons of black, oily smoke infused with the scent of death into the sky. And the Escalade was engulfed, too.
“Fuck,” Lilith said. “Our wheels.”
“I see,” Fallon said. “We’ve got to hurry. The wagon will have to do.”
“You sure that’s any better than just rolling the damn meteor down the street?”
The meteor chunk wasn’t round enough to roll well, but Fallon didn’t see the point in arguing. “No,” she said. “Let’s go.”
One wheel was wobbly, and the handle was short—it was made for a kid to pull, not an adult. But they traded off as they worked down Wilbur to Glencove and west to the grassy expanse of the basin. The wagon gave them more trouble on the grass, which should have been mowed a week ago, but they got it into a flat stretch, away from any trees.
“We’re here, Book,” she said. “At the basin.”
“They had some trouble loading the backup containment pod, but the ’copter’s en route. Sit tight, Fallon. You’re almost out of there.”
Fallon didn’t respond. She heard something like faraway thunder, and she paused to listen. “I don’t think that’s good,” she said.
“What?” Light asked.
She held a hand to her ear, indicating that he should listen. He and Lilith both did. “What is that?” Lilith asked.
“I think it’s just what we don’t need,” Fallon said.
Within minutes, her hunch was confirmed. Pale moonlight revealed that the sound was really the tread of many feet on pavement. Hundreds of Infecteds came from Glencove, and more from Pasadena, from Sirine, from the canal service road. A thousand, she guessed, or more, converging on the basin. They weren’t chanting some mixed-up version of Jane’s name, or vocalizing at all, just walking.
Toward them.
“Don’t they know Jane’s dead?” Lilith asked.
“She is, but whatever’s in the meteor isn’t. Maybe it’s somehow aware and feels like it’s under assault. Or maybe this has been the goal of the Infecteds all along—to make it to the meteor.”
“What do we do?”
“Hope they don’t attack.”
“What if they do?”
Fallon shrugged, feeling resigned. They’d come so far. “Go down fighting,” she said.
What else is there?
The Infecteds spread out around the perimeter of the basin, surrounding the Sykos, ranked six or eight deep in places. Fallon, Lilith, and Light readied their guns. Their ammunition wouldn’t last long against such a crowd. The best they could hope for was that shooting some of the ones in front would make the rest think twice about approaching.
That would call for thinking, though; not an Infected’s strong suit, especially now that their precious “ain-ja” was just a pile of limp limbs like her little sister.
Fallon’s fear was that when something happened to open the floodgates, they would all charge at once. In that event, there would be nothing the Sykos could do to save themselves.
Finally, one Infected—a hipster with long hair in dreadlocks, a knit cap, and pants that looked like they were made of carpet remnants—broke from the ranks and started toward them.
“No!” Fallon called, raising her palm toward him. She put every ounce of command she could into her voice. “Stop right there!”
The Infected hesitated for just an instant, then continued forward. Fallon started to raise her M4, but Light said, “Oh, let me. Please.”
“Be my guest,” she said.
Light shouldered the rifle, sighted in on the hipster Infected, and fired. Brains and skull fragments chased the bullet through the back of the knit cap.
Another Infected started from the south. It took Lilith three shots to put her down. “Let them get closer,” Fallon said. “So you’re more accurate.”
“I suck at this,” Lilith said, frustration evident in her tone.
“Better at sweet-talking men into doing your killing?” Light asked.
“Whatever works,” Lilith snapped. “Got a problem with it?”
“Enough, you two,” Fallon said.
Three more Infecteds broke away from the line on the east side of the basin, splashing through standing water. At the same time, one came at them from the north side and another from the south. If the dam wasn’t shattering, it was at least springing leaks.
Then, above the eerie silence from the Infecteds, Fallon heard the roar of engines, growing nearer every second.
The helicopter!
“Not a second too soon, Book,” she said.
“What do you mean?”
“Your chopper. The Infecteds are starting to be a problem.”
“Fallon, I told you, the second chopper’s been delayed.”
“Then what—”
“I don’t know!”
Headlights sliced through the gloom, and she knew that the engine sounds weren’t from a helicopter at all. She remembered what he’d said about RPGs.
“Oh, shit,” she said.