I sensed them before I saw them. The infected, inside of New Town, in an area heavily populated by the lower socio-economic classes of noninfected. The infected preferred rural areas. The wastelands where there were no crowds and less noise. Places where their senses weren’t overwhelmed by electromagnetic fields created by an overabundance of technology.
The infected invading my territory could have nothing to do with me. I could be paranoid, seeing threats where there were none, but paranoia had kept me safe. I’d left Mate Match and driven straight home. I hadn’t had time to take off my shoes, something for which I was extremely grateful.
Moving swiftly, I rushed into the bedroom and threw everything important into an oversized backpack. I lived light and kept personal possessions to a minimum, so it didn’t take long. In addition, I had stashes all over New Town for just such an emergency. Between the backpack and the go bag in my trunk, I had more than enough to start over.
Again, I questioned my sanity for registering with a match-making agency that would plaster my image all over a site frequented by infected males. My hope had been that between my disguise and physical changes as I’d aged, no one from my past would recognize the real me.
In case I’d been wrong, I’d already found a new place to live on the opposite side of town. Most of my meager possessions were packed, and I was just waiting on the first of the month to arrive. My official address was a post office box near my job. For most places, like my job, it was enough.
Unfortunately, Mate Match had required a street address, giving me added incentive to move. My address wouldn’t be posted on my public profile, but if some enterprising soul recognized my photo, it would be a simple matter to hack into their databases for my private information. The pandemic hadn’t stopped hackers or hacking.
I tucked a gun inside the waistband at the small of my back and pulled my shirt down to cover it, though it wouldn’t be much of a deterrent. At most, it might give me the element of surprise. Guns were illegal inside of city limits. The infected were fast and dodging bullets would be child’s play unless I caught them off guard. Even though I was also infected, I couldn’t compete with a male. They were faster and stronger.
Of course, I assumed they were men. Something about the aggressive undertone of their sweat glands screamed male to my senses. My instincts had gone on alert the minute I sensed them, screaming, “Danger! Run!”
I climbed out the window onto the small, railed balcony. It was night, the time of day the infected most liked to hunt. My apartment was located on the third floor. Too high for me to jump down, but high enough from the ground and far enough from the roof that I didn’t have to worry about intruders.
Did I go up to the roof or down to the ground? Down, I decided immediately. If surrounded, being on the ground would give me more escape options than running along rooftops would provide. With my backpack secured onto my back, I climbed over the railing, leapt to the nearby drainpipe running down the side of the building, and shimmied to the ground.
My heart beat like a drum. How had they located me? I’d been so damned careful. Putting myself on Mate Match had been a risk, but a calculated one. During my last and final contact with my relocation advisor, she’d complimented me on my ability to disguise myself, saying she’d never seen better. Maybe I’d become too complacent with this last move and stayed in one place too long?
I crouched for a few minutes in the nook created where the entrance stairway met the building, trying to get a fix on the infected. The shadowed darkness was perfect for concealment. The scent of impending rain was heavy in the air. The good news was that the rain would cover my tracks. The bad news was that the heavy humidity, combined with the nearby trash dumpster and pulsing humanity, dulled my senses. I was close to being nose blind.
My gut screamed for me to run. I fought to remain calm and cautious, but the truth was, I couldn’t sit here forever. The brick staircase blocked my view to the left. The end of the building was about thirty feet to my right. If I could make it there undetected, I could slip around the corner and haul ass. My car was parked a few blocks away.
In an effort to protect my hearing, I’d picked an older apartment building in a rundown, former industrial area on the edge of town. At this time of night, there was little to no traffic and very few pedestrians. There were less electronic billboards polluting the air with sound and light, and only a few streetlights. New Towners didn’t waste money advertising in this section of town.
Pulling the hood of my sweatshirt over my head, I took a deep breath, another glance around, and stepped out from my hiding place. I turned right and began walking with my head down and my hands in my pockets. The night was chilly and the temperature was still dropping, so I didn’t look out of place.
Just before I reached the corner, a white panel van pulled up and stopped. One glance at the driver behind the wheel had the hair on my nape rising. I did an about-face in the other direction, not caring how suspicious it looked. For all the driver knew, I was a noninfected woman alone at night, shying away from a model of van made popular by kidnappers and serial killers in vids and on television.
My jacket pockets were deep enough to allow me to fist a knife in my right hand. It was the same wickedly sharp kitchen knife my mother had given me when I was fifteen. Other than my memories, it was my last tangible link to her. “Escape, by any means necessary,” she’d taught me, and I’d taken her lesson to heart.
I heard the van’s door open and slam shut behind me, and subtly picked up my pace. As I neared the stairs, the door to my apartment building opened, and two men stepped outside. I automatically glanced up and our gazes connected. The one on the left stiffened in recognition and shouted, “There she is!”
Shit. Shit. Shit. How the hell had they gotten inside without me knowing? I broke and ran, darting across the street and running as if the hounds of hell were on my tail. The hood of my jacket flew back, revealing my tumble of braids. Footsteps pounded behind me. I was fast. They were faster. Something thudded into my backpack. Damn it, they had stunners. I dodged left and right, at times running in the street.
The van’s engine roared to life and the driver took off with a squeal of tires. The bright headlights caught me in its glare as it quickly ate up the distance between us. It screeched to a halt behind me, skidding sideways to block pursuit. Both doors flew open even as the van rocked on its chassis.
A quick glance over my shoulder revealed the driver coming after me while the other male took on the infected on my tail. I didn’t know what the hell was going on. The ones in the van were noninfected. It showed in the way they moved. I had both noninfected and infected men after me? It didn’t make sense, unless they were working together. Something I highly doubted, given the noninfected’s actions.
Mentally, I cursed. The arrival of the van meant I hadn’t been able to take the most direct route to my car. The infected on my tail had driven me even further away, causing me to take a longer, more circuitous route. There were too many after me. I needed a place to hunker down and hide until the threat had passed.
The sound of the footsteps behind me suddenly ceased. Up ahead was an alley between two warehouses. At the end of the alley was a fence that blocked access to a junkyard for old cars, guarded by two Dobermans. I’d made friends with those dogs, and the junkyard was one of my planned escape routes. If I could just make it there, I’d be home free. The dogs, the overwhelming scent of rubber, old oil, and gasoline, not to mention the towering mountains of bald tires and crushed metal would give me plenty of hiding places and block my scent.
The sharp report of gunfire fire filled the air. Oh, shit. They had guns, I thought in shock, totally forgetting about my own. A sharp pain struck the back of my upper thigh, almost in the butt. I’d been shot! I faltered and stumbled a step before recovering my balance. The sharp pain dulled and spread into a growing numbness, but I kept running, pushing myself even harder.
I heard a curse.
“Did you miss?” one of the guys asked.
“No! I got her in the thigh. I don’t know how she’s still moving,” the other one answered.
“Shoot her again, and hurry up. She’s getting away,” the first one ordered.
“But…two darts will be too much. There’s enough tranq in these darts to bring down a large animal,” the other one protested. “We’re not supposed to hurt her.”
“But we are supposed to capture her. Shoot her again. The worst that will happen is she’ll take a little longer to wake up,” the first one said.
They were shooting tranquilizer darts, not bullets? I didn’t like the sound of either. The alley was close. I ducked inside, pulling garbage cans and whatever else I could find into the road to slow them as I ran.
I heard the squeal of tires and underneath, the pounding of footsteps as they gave pursuit. It sounded like they’d managed to chase off the infected on my tail. Now if I could just lose these bozos.
The fence appeared out of the darkness before me. I gave an almighty leap and managed to catch the top of it. Suddenly, the high beam of headlights pinned me like a bug to a wall. I pulled and scrambled with my feet, one leg almost useless as I tried to make it over the wall.
The next shot hit me right in the butt. My legs instantly weakened, hanging like dead weight. My vision blurred, and I lost my grasp on the fence.
“No, no, no,” I mumbled as I slid down the wood to crumple into a heap on the dirty asphalt. I tried to stand and ended up on all fours. I didn’t give up easily. Quit wasn’t in my vocabulary. There was nowhere to go, but I still tried to escape. I crawled.
Footsteps grew closer.
“Are you sure she isn’t one of the infected? Look at her. I shot two tranqs into her and she’s still moving,” one guy said.
“It’s not our problem. We were hired to bring her in, and that’s what we’re going to do,” the other one said.
The last thing I saw before everything went black was large, gloved hands reaching for me.