Lane stumbled and cried out as the world came back into focus. What the bloody hell had that all been about?
She looked down at her hand and saw she was still holding the knife. It was glowing bright and felt hot in her hand.
She looked up and saw the zombies had stopped in their tracks. Their low groans had a hint of confusion to them, and several looked back at Sigmarsson. They weren’t sure what to do, Lane realized. Something about this knife.
Lane held the knife up above her head like she was some cut-price King Arthur and was astonished to see the zombies shrink back.
“Come on,” she shouted, feeling more confident than she probably should. “Come on then if you want some.”
The zombies started moving backwards. The groans became louder, and Lane swore they sounded scared. This knife was a talisman, something to do with that weird hallucination she’d just had. It was mad, but she didn’t care if it worked.
Sigmarsson wasn’t looking too great either. He’d stepped back several paces. Something about this knife had unnerved him, and Lane had a feeling she knew what it was. He’d been killed by this knife all those years ago, and somehow it had power. Maybe the power to kill him all over again.
Lane walked forward a few paces with the knife still held above her. “Don’t like it, do you?” she cried. “Not nice when the shoe’s on the other foot, is it?”
Again, they shrunk away, and even better, so did Sigmarsson.
Inside Lane, something snapped. All the fear and the sadness and the desperation she’d been feeling over the last twenty-four hours came to a head.
Lane charged them. Screaming at the top of her lungs, she slashed at one zombie and almost took his head clean off. She spun and pushed the blade through the throat of another. Unlike with the hammer, which you had to aim at their heads, the knife seemed to kill them dead wherever she got them.
Lane slashed and hacked her way through a sea of zombies, and not one of them bit her or came at her. Like the Red Sea, they parted. The knife terrified them. Just like they’d terrified her. The knife cut through them like butter and killed them on the spot, just like they’d killed Teensy.
But the main target, the one she was working her way towards, the architect of all this destruction and death, would bear the brunt of her rage. All of this started and finished with him. Lane would put him down, and she didn’t care what happened to her. As long as he was dead. She’d managed it before—albeit accidentally—and she’d do it again.
But when she got through the crowds of zombies, he’d gone. Lane looked around. He’d disappeared. It was impossible. He was nearly seven feet tall and not exactly easy to miss. Where the hell did he go?
The zombies were also melting away, shuffling off down alleys and side streets. Lane stood in the middle of the road and wasn’t sure what to do next. He was gone. She had to find him and kill him. But how? Where would he go? Where did he go?
And then she realized. Where he’d been buried. Lane racked her brain for that newspaper article she’d read on the plane a million years ago. Where had those workmen found the treasure?
Winthrop Street. Lane vaguely remembered it from the other day, but Meg would know exactly where that was. If she was still alive. Please God, she was still alive. She had to be.
Lane turned and started to walk back to the Governor. Then she saw her. Meg. Lane was equal parts elated and equal parts sick to her stomach. She was with Wendy. And Wendy had a gun to her head.
* * *
Meg cursed herself. How could she have been so stupid? When she heard the gunshot, she’d flown down the street. What she saw had stopped her dead in her tracks.
Lane was standing in the middle of Commercial with some kind of knife in her hand, and it was on fire. It burned so bright, Meg had to shield her eyes. At first she’d been worried Lane would get hurt, but when she looked again, she saw that Lane wasn’t bothered by it at all.
How was that possible?
Meg didn’t have time to think about that because with a war cry Lane was charging into the zombies, and they were moving away from her. The knife scared them. And it scared Sigmarsson too. Meg let out a whoop.
“Impressive, isn’t she?” Wendy said from behind her.
Meg turned. Straight into the barrel of a gun. “What the fuck, Wendy? Where is everybody getting fucking guns from in fucking Massachusetts?”
“You know, I found this in my father’s stuff when he died. I almost threw it in the ocean because I was so worried about having an unlicensed firearm. Glad I kept it now.” Wendy motioned with the gun. “Get back here with me and Lois. We’re going to wait this thing out.”
And now Meg was standing in front of a car. Wendy had moved the gun so that it was now pressed into the small of her back. Wendy was using her in a hostage negotiation.
“You can have your little girlfriend. Just give me the knife,” Wendy said to Lane. She pushed the bag over with her foot. “Put it in there.”
Meg locked eyes with Lane and shook her head. There was no way Lane should exchange her for the knife. That knife was going to save Lane and Lois.
“Stay out of it, Meg,” Wendy said and pushed the gun more firmly into Meg’s back.
“I will not stay out of it. Wendy, think about it. We could kill Sigmarsson with that knife. Take the rest of the treasure if you want it, but leave Lane the knife.”
“Meg has a point. Why—” Lane was cut off.
“Shut up, shut up, shut up. Both of you, shut up. Lane, you’ve got five seconds to make up your mind. Either give me the knife, or I shoot your little girlfriend,” Wendy said.
Meg looked at Lane again and tried to convey how much she didn’t want Lane to hand it over.
“How do I know you won’t shoot her anyway?” Lane asked.
Wendy shrugged. “I guess you don’t. You’ll have to do it on trust.”
“Trust? You’ve proven throughout this whole thing that the last thing you are is trustworthy, Wendy.”
“You have a point. Look, I need the knife to get out of here with the treasure. It obviously keeps those things away. I also don’t want to use any more bullets than I need to,” Wendy said. “I’d rather save them for the zombies.”
It made sense, Meg thought. “And what will you do when you get to Boston or wherever it is you’re going? You don’t think anyone’s going to ask where you got that treasure from? You don’t think they’ll make you hand it in?”
“I thought about that. I’ve met a few collectors in my time, and they know other collectors. I don’t imagine I’ll have much trouble selling it,” Wendy said.
“But I thought the whole reason you took it was because you believe it belongs in Provincetown?” Lane said.
“It does. But look around, not much of Provincetown left. I can’t imagine it’ll be long before the military bomb this place off the map. I’ve worked my whole life in this town. I know people laughed at me. Oh look, it’s Wendy and her stupid little library exhibitions again. Well, now they’re dead—or zombies—so who’s laughing? I deserve to retire in style. And this stuff is worth a lot of money.”
“You never cared about whether it stayed here or not,” Meg said.
“Yes, I did. But plans change. Now, we’ve talked long enough. Put the knife in the bag, Lane, or I will shoot Meg. You know I will.”
Meg watched as Lane looked down at the knife in her hand, then looked at Meg. Meg shook her head again.
“I’m sorry, Meg, but it was never a choice,” Lane said. She bent down and put the knife in the bag.
“Good, now kick the bag over here carefully. Don’t break anything.”
Lane did as she was told. She pushed the bag with her foot. “Here, take it. I hope it brings you nothing but misery.”
“Pick up the bag, Meg,” Wendy said and nudged Meg in the back.
“Me? You said you’d let me go if she gave it to you,” Meg said.
“And I will. In a minute. I kind of have my hands full right now. Pick up the bag,” Wendy said.
Meg bent down and picked up the bag. It was heavy and it clanged.
“Now, put the straps over your shoulders, Meg—and no funny business. Lane, I want you to call Lois out from under that car. We’re going for a little walk.”
No,” Lane said. Then she shouted, “Lois, you stay under there. Don’t come out.”
Meg felt a sharp pain in her lower back. At first, she thought maybe Wendy shot her, but the gun hadn’t gone off. “Jesus, stop. Ow,” Meg said.
“Pull another trick like that, and I’ll pull the trigger. Right on her spine,” Wendy said to Lane.
That was when Meg realized Wendy was truly serious. It wasn’t exactly that she’d doubted her before, but Wendy was…Wendy. She came into the bar every night for a glass of wine, and they made small talk. Everyone knew Wendy—she’d been in the town her whole life. Meg thought she was nice if a little dull. It just went to show you never really knew anyone until the shit hit the fan. That was when people’s true colours came out.
“Fine, fine. Just don’t hurt her,” Lane said.
“Lois?” Wendy called out. “Come on out, or I’m going to hurt one of your little friends again. You hear me, honey?”
Meg turned her head slightly to watch Lois slide out from under the car. The poor kid looked terrified. “It’s okay,” Meg said, realizing how much of a lie that was.
“Please don’t hurt them,” Lois said.
“As long as they do what they’re told—as long as you all do what you’re told—I won’t have to,” Wendy replied. “Now the gang’s all here.”
Meg rolled her eyes. She was really getting to hate Wendy Moon. “What’s your plan now?”
“We’re going for a little stroll down to Whalers Wharf,” Wendy said.
“What? Why?” Lane asked, hoping to stall for time but picking her own bag up anyway.
“You’ll see. Now move. Lane in front, Lois behind her, and Meg in front of me. If anyone so much as twitches, I’m going to shoot Meg,” Wendy said.
The four of them made their way down a deserted Commercial Street.
* * *
“Why are we at Whalers Wharf?”
Lane heard the confusion in Meg’s voice. She daren’t turn around to look at Meg, even though she’d been dying to do just that during the walk down here.
Lois was holding on to the back of Lane’s jeans, and every now and then Lane would risk reaching back to briefly squeeze Lois’s hand. The little girl must be absolutely terrified.
Lane didn’t want to look back at Meg, though, and do anything to make Wendy hurt her. It seemed Wendy was on a knife-edge. Lane hadn’t known her before all this kicked off, but she doubted she had been this unstable before. Something about the treasure, maybe.
Lane thought back to the hallucination she’d had earlier. Ivar Sigmarsson. He was rotten through and through, and maybe something of him had seeped into the treasure. Or maybe she was making excuses for Wendy. Perhaps Wendy was actually a selfish and cruel person.
Lane heard Meg again ask why they were at Whalers Wharf. They’d walked right past MacMillan Pier, where she would presumably take Teensy’s boat back to the mainland.
“Because it’s somewhere safe I can put you,” Wendy said.
“What do you mean?” Lane asked.
“Keep moving. Go on, all the way through,” Wendy said, ignoring the question.
They walked past the shops which flanked them on either side. Lane had been here before, for her tarot reading. Back when the biggest thing on her mind was getting Meg back. She shook her head. Funny how things turned out. She adjusted the bag on her shoulder. Just past the last shop on the right was a door with Bathroom written on it.
“Stop,” Wendy said, and they all came to a halt. “Okay, Lane and Lois, go in there.”
“Here?” Lane looked into a dingy public toilet. “You want us to go in there?”
“Yes. In there. Don’t test me,” Wendy said.
“But it’s dark in there. And it smells funny,” Lois said.
“I don’t care. Move,” Wendy said, and Lane heard Meg gasp.
Lane didn’t need to look around to know that Wendy had probably jabbed her with the gun. “Okay, okay. Just leave her alone.”
Lane reached behind her and took Lois’s hand. “We have to be really brave now, Lois,” she said. “I won’t let anything hurt you in here.”
“Okay, Lane,” Lois said.
Lane led Lois into the toilet and hoped that was true.
“Back against the far wall. Both of you,” Wendy called. Lane guided Lois backwards until her back touched the wall. She tried not to think about what might be on the tiles.
“Good,” Wendy said. “Now you, Meg. And don’t make any sudden moves. You know I’m a good shot, and I’ll drop you before you get anywhere near me.”
Lane knew it was the truth and prayed Meg wouldn’t do anything stupid. She watched as Meg came towards her. She put her bag down on the grubby floor and tried not to think about the last time it had been cleaned.
“Meg, up against the wall too. That’s right, well done. Take the bag off slowly,” Wendy said. “Put it on the ground.”
Now all three of them were standing against the toilet wall. Lane waited to see what Wendy would do. It didn’t escape her notice that this was a good position for a firing-squad style execution. If it came to it, she’d shield Lois with her own body. Meg would understand. Meg would probably do the same.
Lane had never felt so hopeless or unsure in her life. Should she charge Wendy? It was true Wendy could drop her easily, but Lane wasn’t small. She reckoned she could tackle Wendy to the ground even with a bullet hole in her.
Lane stepped forward. “Wendy, you don’t have to do this.”
“Get back against that wall. I mean it. I will shoot you,” Wendy said and raised the gun.
Lane swallowed and stood her ground. “We won’t give you any trouble—just let us come with you.”
“You should have thought of that before you decided to take my treasure. I would have let you come with me, you know.”
Lane moved over in an effort to shield Meg. “I’m sorry.”
“Too late, and I swear to God if you don’t move back against that wall, Lane…”
Lane held up her hands in surrender. “Okay, okay.” She moved back and stood against the wall.
“Now kick that bag over. Slide it along the floor,” Wendy said to Meg.
Lane watched as Meg shoved the bag with her foot.
In one smooth movement, Wendy picked up the bag and quickly swing the door shut, and Lane heard the lock turn from the outside.
Wendy’s muffled voice came from the other side. “This is the safest place for you. If the military don’t blow Provincetown to smithereens, they’ll find you and let you out. I left the key in the door. At least the zombies can’t get to you in here, and I don’t think they can turn keys.”
Lane jumped when Meg launched herself at the door with a howl of fury. “You bitch, Wendy. You goddamn bitch. How could you do this to us? To a small child?”
But Wendy didn’t answer. Lane guessed she was gone, on her way to the pier and then to Boston. Lane almost smiled.
“Hey, Meg, did you do it?” she asked.
“I did. Now all we have to do is figure a way out of here,” Meg said.
Lane looked around the bathroom. Nothing was immediately obvious. The door looked too strong to break down, but she’d give it a go anyway.
Lane was so deep in her own thoughts, she was surprised when Lois tugged on her arm.
“What’s that, sweetheart?” Lane asked.
“Up there. Look.” Lois pointed to the ceiling.
Lane looked up. And smiled.