Dominion of the Damned, Page 2

  Hannah hurried inside. She paused to look around the kitchen, which looked pretty much as they’d left it. A wave of grief and nostalgia washed over her as she remembered the last time they’d all gathered there around the kitchen table, laughing and playing Pictionary and having no clue what the next morning would bring. Her throat tightened, and she coughed to clear it as a woman came into the kitchen.

  “Albert, who’s this?” she asked sweetly. She was a thin woman, about fifty, with gray-streaked brown hair done up in a loose French roll. She wore a pair of dark glasses. At Hannah′s questioning look, she waved a hand. “I just put in eye drops. The light hurts my eyes.”

  “Um,” said Hannah. “I’m Hannah.” She turned to get her first good look at Albert as he stepped inside and locked the door behind him. She’d been right about him being older; he looked like he had about ten years on her father. He, too, was slim, but wiry and strong. He avoided looking directly at her as he moved past her toward the woman. “Says she lives here,” he said. “Says she’s been hiding out all this time.”

  “Good gracious,” said the woman. “Where on earth were you hiding, child?”

  “Around,” said Hannah, still wary about mentioning the shelter. “My dad was a survivalist. He taught me a few tricks.”

  “Well, how about that, Albert?” She approached Hannah and held out a hand. “I’m Marie. You already met the old coot I’m married to.”

  Hannah studied Marie’s hand before reaching out to shake it. “What are you folks doing here?”

  “We thought it was abandoned,” said Marie. “We’ve been here just short of a month. You seem a little young to own a house. Are your parents hiding out around here, too?”

  Hannah went still. “No.”

  Noah picked that moment to wake up and start squirming and fussing. “Oh, Albert, look! A baby!” Marie leaned over to peel back the sheet and have a look. “Hi there! Look at you! Oh, you’re so scrumptious I could just eat you up!”

  “Marie!” Albert barked. “Let the girl get her bearings.” As Marie pulled away, he propped his shotgun by the back door and asked, “What made you come out of hiding?”

  “The radio,” Hannah said as she lifted Noah out of the sling and snuggled him. Marie stood there gazing at him, her hands clasped in front of her chin almost as in prayer, and grinning from ear to ear. “The ham radio, I mean. I’ve been coming here once a month to see if I could raise anybody who could give me some news. Is it still here?”

  Albert grunted. “’Fraid a power surge fried the circuits. I stripped that thing for parts.”

  Hannah bit back a surge of anger. He didn’t know any better, she told herself, and wondered if the CB in the truck still worked. Or had they dismantled the truck, too?

  “We can tell you the news, though,” said Marie. “This area’s been cleaned out. It’s a safe zone. All those poor plague victims have been gathered up and burned, and the ones still walking around have been put down.” She smiled and held out her hands, clearly expecting them to be filled with baby. “May I?”

  Hannah was reluctant. She thought she’d be nothing but overjoyed to see living people after so long, but she couldn’t shake a feeling of wariness that kept gnawing at her gut. Still, Marie hadn’t been anything but nice so far, and Hannah didn’t want to be rude. “Sure,” she said, handing the baby over. “How did you guys end up here?”

  “Government initiative,” said Albert. “They’ve started repopulating the safe zones, dividing up abandoned homes among the displaced.” He fished in his pocket and pulled out a wallet. “There’s a number to call if any unaccounted for survivors turn up.” He started digging in his wallet. “I’ve got it here somewhere.”

  “I already called them,” said Marie as she snuggled the baby. “They’re sending somebody out to pick you up.” Closing her eyes, she inhaled deeply. “Oh, I just love the way babies smell.”

  “We haven’t cleared out all of the bedrooms yet,” said Albert. “Your things might still be up there, if you’d like to take anything with you to the processing center.”

  Hannah’s eyes drifted to the ceiling. Nice or not, the thought of these people up there pawing through her bedroom, through her parent’s bedroom, made her ill. The edge in her voice was sharper than she’d intended as she said, “Thanks. I’ll go check it out.”

  “We’ll watch the baby while you do,” said Marie.

  Hannah hesitated. “I don’t think that’s a good idea. He’s never been separated from me. He’d probably get scared and start to fuss.” As if to back her up, Noah started to cry and look around for Hannah. “I’m right here, Boo,” she told him as she took him from Marie. “He’ll settle down in a minute or two,” she said as she headed out of the kitchen and up the stairs.

  The nursery looked the way her mother had left it, except that Albert and Marie had used it to store some of her parent’s things. All of her mother’s hard work, the antique crib she’d painted and the decor she’d carefully chosen, had been totally disregarded, and framed family photos and other belongings casually gotten out of the way. Just like they were getting her out of the way. As nice as they seemed, Hannah had to wonder what kind of people wouldn’t so much as bat an eyelash about taking over someone else’s home and turning out its rightful inhabitants. She realized that this was an extreme situation, and everyone was just doing their best to survive. But there hadn’t even been a hint of guilt or shame as they made it clear that she and Noah no longer belonged here.

  The baby monitor still sat on the changing table next to the crib. The rechargeable transmitter was nestled in the charger base, and the receiver sat next to it. Hannah removed the transmitter from the base and turned it on. She set Noah down in the crib—his crib—and stepped back into the hall. Quietly, she edged toward the top of the stairs. Albert and Maria’s voices sounded muffled and distant, like they had gone into the kitchen and closed the door. She slipped her shoes off and set them by the bedroom door, and then tiptoed down the stairs, careful to avoid the steps that creaked. She never thought she’d be so grateful for all of the times she’d had to sneak into the house after curfew as a teenager.

  She placed the transmitter at the foot of the stairs, tucked out of site beneath the banister. Any guilt she might have felt about spying on her unwanted guests was swallowed up by anger. Who the hell were these people, and how did they not feel just awful about stealing her home?

  Back in the nursery, she found the receiver and turned it on. Their voices were still muffled, and even harder to hear over Noah’s crying. “Shh,” she soothed as she took him out of the crib. “Look, Boo! This is your room! Your mommy and daddy put this all together for you.” She sighed. “Maybe we can talk these people into giving it back.” She glared at the monitor and considered the weapons she still wore. “Or maybe Sissy could just take it back.”

  Noah’s crying abated to the occasional whimper. Carrying both him and the monitor, Hannah slipped back out of the nursery and went to the door of her room. She paused with her hand on the knob, afraid of what she’d find when she opened the door. Bracing herself, she turned the knob and pushed, then blew out the breath she’d been holding. This room remained untouched. It was exactly as she’d left it all those months ago, right down to her unmade bed and her discarded pajamas lying on the floor by the closet.

  Hannah patted the baby’s back as she crossed to the window and looked out at the street. Lights were on in the Gifford house across the street, and in a few other houses as well. Apparently Albert and Marie weren’t the only squatters in the abandoned neighborhood. Her dad’s truck still sat parked in the driveway. Everything looked normal, as though nothing bad had ever happened here.

  She went to the bed and sat down, settling Noah in her lap. She felt numb as she looked around the room. Her entire life, this had been her room. Even after going to college, her parents had kept it for her, and her bed had always felt welcoming whenever she came home to visit. She set the monitor on the nightstand a
nd lay down. Curling up with her brother, she pulled the covers over them both, and closed her eyes, and prayed to wake up. For a few sweet moments, she allowed herself the luxury of pretending that this had all been a bad dream, that she would open her eyes again and find that her dad had never shaken her awake, that she’d never gotten out of bed, that her world didn’t end.

  She opened her eyes. Albert’s voice sounded on the baby monitor. “I hope you’re not thinking what I think you’re thinking,” he said.

  “What am I thinking?” asked Marie.

  “We can’t keep him, Marie. We have to give him to the authorities.”

  “I suppose,” she said. “But I didn’t tell them there was a baby when I called. I didn’t even know myself then.”

  Hannah threw the covers off and sat up. She grabbed the monitor and held it close to her ear.

  “Marie,” Albert sounded agitated, “you know what will happen if we get caught hoarding food. They’ll stake us out in the yard and leave us there to burn.”

  “Oh, you worry too much, Albert. How would they find out? Besides, it’s not like that little thing’ll make more than a snack between the two of us.”

  Hannah wondered if she’d actually fallen asleep and this was her dream. She couldn’t be hearing them right.

  “And what happens when that girl starts ranting and raving about her baby being taken? You think she won’t tell?”

  The monitor fell silent for a moment. Then Marie said, “She can’t tell them if she’s dead.”

  “What?”

  “She found us out. She tried to run, and we tried to stop her.”

  “Marie―”

  “We can’t feed from her, I know. They already know about her, and they’d investigate. But we can break her neck, and then the baby―”

  “Marie! Get serious!”

  “I am serious, Albert! Think about it! Think about that fresh, warm b—”

  Grabbing the baby, Hannah charged out of the room. She pulled the pistol out of her waistband as she ran down the stairs. Marie and Albert stood at the bottom of the staircase, between Hannah and the door. She pointed the gun at them. “Move.”

  “Calm down, girl,” Albert said. “We don’t want any trouble here.” He looked directly at her for the first time, and his eyes... the irises were an icy blue, so pale they were almost white, and the pupils seemed to glow, reflecting light the way a cat′s eyes do. It wasn′t normal. It wasn′t human.

  “What are you people?” she asked. “Are you more of those… those things? What, you can talk now?” She didn’t want to think about the implication of what that meant for her parents. The sight of her mother lurching toward her, gnashing her teeth, hungry eyes on the baby, flashed before her and made her feel sick.

  “She knows, Albert,” said Marie. “This is our chance!”

  “Marie, shut up! She clearly doesn’t know anything.” Albert reached a hand toward Hannah. “I don’t know what you think is going on here, but let’s all just―”

  Hannah turned the gun on him. “I should just shoot you where you stand.”

  He looked surprised for a second, but then he smiled. It wasn’t a warm smile. Hannah felt chilled as he said, “Go ahead. It won’t help you.” He took a step toward her.

  Hannah didn’t hesitate. The bullet hit Albert right in the middle of his forehead, snapping his head back. A trickle of blood ran down between his eyes.

  He didn’t go down.

  Marie laughed. “Perfect. Now we’ve got our excuse.” She started to come at Hannah, but Albert grabbed her.

  “Listen!”

  Everyone froze as the pulsating sound of a helicopter grew near.

  “They’re here!” said Marie. “Kill her, Albert! Do it now!”

  “It’s too late, Marie!”

  The helicopter grew as loud as thunder. Bright light flooded through the front windows. Marie lunged at Hannah, moving faster than she would have believed an old woman could move, and grabbed Noah. Hannah turned the gun on her, for all the good it would do. “Give him back!”

  Holding the baby up like a shield, Marie smiled coldly. “I could dash his little brains out on the floor before you even start to pull the trigger,” she said, “but I hate to waste my food like that.”

  Hannah circled around her, trying to get a clear shot. She would aim low, but she didn’t want to risk the woman dropping the baby.

  There was a knock on the door. “It’s over, Marie,” said Albert. “We’re turning them both over.”

  “But Albert―!”

  The front door burst open, and men in soldier’s gear and body armor rushed in, carrying bigger guns than Hannah’s. One of them pointed theirs at Albert. “Surrender the humans!” he ordered.

  Albert raised his hands, letting go of Hannah. “We’re cooperating!” he yelled. “Marie, give the man the baby!”

  Marie reluctantly stepped forward, a pouty, petulant look on the woman’s face as she held the baby out as if in offering. Hannah saw an opening―not a big one, but the only one she was likely to get. Grabbing Noah, she drove a shoulder into Marie to knock her off balance. She ran into the living room and toward the den. The soldier fired. Instead of a loud bang, Hannah heard the quiet hiss of an air rifle, and she felt something graze her shoulder as she ducked into the den. She continued through a wide doorway into the kitchen, made it to the back door and outside, where she ran as fast as she could toward the safety of the shelter.

  She triggered the motion sensor on her way out, and the floodlight lit her way. It also lit her up. “There she is!” a male voice shouted behind her. “Take her out!”

  Something struck the back of her shoulder, and Hannah felt a sting. She kept running, but her legs grew heavy. She felt herself slowing down as her vision began to cloud over. “Hit her again!” the voice shouted, and something stung her thigh. Darts, she realized, too late for it to do her any good. They were drugging her.

  Her steps slowed, and she stumbled. She knew if she kept running, she’d end up falling and hurting the baby, so she dropped to her knees. Cradling Noah against her, she tried to crawl toward the shelter. Just a few more yards and they’d be safe again. She should never have left it. It was a stupid thing to do, risking the baby like that.

  Footsteps came up behind her. They came too fast. Hannah couldn’t hold herself up any longer. She lay down in the grass, curling herself around Noah. “We got her,” said the voice. She heard the static of a walkie-talkie, followed by another voice on the other end asking, “What about the infant?”

  “It’s secure,” the voice replied as a pair of black gloved hands pried Noah out of Hannah’s arms. She tried to protest, but her tongue had grown thick, and it came out as a pitiful moan.

  “Bring them in,” said the radio voice, and Hannah felt hands on her, lifting her up. As they carried her, Hannah opened her eyes and saw the stars. Then they faded, and she saw only darkness.

  THREE

  Waking up wasn’t easy. It felt like trying to float to the surface of a deep pool with a weighted jacket dragging her back down. Hannah first became aware that her mouth felt dry, and that her head hurt. She wanted to roll over and sink back down into blessed unconsciousness, but something held her in place. Gradually, thoughts began to form in her mind, and then memories. Of Noah.

  They took Noah.

  Hannah opened her eyes. She tried to sit up and realized she was strapped down. Frantically, she looked around and took in her surroundings. She was strapped to a cot, in a room full of cots, surrounded by gray walls. Fluorescent lights flickered overhead, casting a greenish pall over the room. She was hooked to a hospital monitor, with an IV tube attached to her right arm. She struggled against her restraints, but both of her arms were tied down.

  “Take it easy,” said a male voice, rich and resonant. A man appeared at her bedside, wearing a white lab coat. He was a young man, probably no more than thirty, with short, black hair and a darkly handsome face. He spoke with a slight accent that Hannah c
ouldn’t quite place. Russian, maybe, or Eastern European.

  “Where’s my baby?”

  “He’s safe. You both are. He was taken to our nursery for care.”

  “Where is this?” she asked. Her mouth and throat were so dry that she had trouble getting the words out, and she ended up coughing. The man left her bedside, then returned a moment later with a plastic cup. He sat next to her and lifted her head to help her drink. The water tasted stale and unfiltered, but it was so soothing on her throat that she didn’t care.

  As she drank, he spoke. “You’re in the infirmary of your state’s prison. We’ve converted it into a survivor camp. You were brought here last night, and I’ve been giving you fluids and vitamins. The tranquilizer they shot you with tends to leave people dehydrated, and according to your blood workup, whatever food you’ve been surviving on all this time was lacking in nutritional value.”

  She finished drinking, and he pulled the cup away and wiped away the water that had dripped down her chin. She licked her lips and asked, “My baby. Can I see him?”

  He looked down and away from her, and took a deep breath. Looking back at her, he said, “I’ll see what I can do. Do you have a name?”

  “Hannah,” she said. “Hannah Jordan.”

  He retrieved a clipboard from a tray near the bed and wrote on it. “And your baby?”

  “Noah. He’s my brother. I’m all he has.” She swallowed and added, “He’s all I have.”

  He returned the clipboard, then sat back on her bed. “Hannah, I’m Dr. Konstantin. I’m going to undo your restraints, but I need you to hold still until I unhook you from all of this. Okay?”

  She nodded. As he unfastened the straps, she scanned the room for something to use as a weapon, but she saw nothing. Even if she did, she had nowhere to go. She didn’t even know where they were keeping Noah, or how to find her way out of this place. She needed to be smart, not reactionary. She needed to cooperate until she got her chance.

  The doctor finished unhooking her from the IV and the monitor, and helped her sit up. “How do you feel?” he asked.