Horde (Razorland #3)(70)

I fell into step with Zach, keeping my tone low so the others couldn’t hear, though they might well guess what I was saying. “The next fight might be more challenging, and we can’t carry your weight. Don’t let me down.”

He nodded, looking ashamed. “It won’t happen again, I promise.”

I felt for him, this boy who had lost his whole family, and now had to learn to fight when that hadn’t been his role from the beginning, as it had mine. But in this world, people had to adapt, or they died. Cowardice would haunt him all his life, if he didn’t find the courage to raise a weapon and hold his ground. It wasn’t that I thought people who couldn’t fight were worthless; that judgment came from deep inside the kid. He needed to earn his own self-respect.


The next group ran at us from around a corner. There were no telltale sounds, but in a blink, there were twenty on top of us. I should’ve smelled them, but the miasma hung over the whole town; the stink was horrendous, and they were near starvation. Some had gnawed their own flesh—or maybe they’d done it to each other—but the bites were infected and livid, sour milk flesh imprinted with savage red teeth marks.

Our drills held up, though. The men fell into a circle as we had practiced, forcing the enemy to push through if they wanted to surround us. I expected Zach to falter again, but this time he brought his knives up and held the line. We were outnumbered, but these were creatures of madness and hunger, the way the old Freaks had been. They knew nothing of tactics or strategy, only of the need burning like fire in their blood. The fight became an intricate dance of death. When Tegan swung her staff to sweep the legs and knocked one down, Thornton finished it with an efficient blow from his hatchet.

I worked with Zach, keeping them off him while he discovered his confidence. He might not be a natural warrior but he was determined, offering a block and feint to draw the snapping teeth. That opened the throat, and I cut it, then followed with a kick to avoid the spraying blood. Some spattered on my pants, but it couldn’t be helped. Spence worked as he usually did with knife, gun, and boot. I didn’t count how many I killed; I just fought until they all lay dead.

“Injuries?” I asked. “Any bites?”

There was a heavy, fraught silence while everyone scrutinized their fellows.

“Me.” Danbury was one of the new men, recently recruited. He cradled his forearm, and as I stepped closer, I saw the purple bruise with a scarlet heart where teeth had broken the skin. The wound would heal, but I glimpsed raw fear in his eyes.

“You can’t become a Freak through bites,” I said, though it was a hollow reassurance. “Maybe this isn’t catching the same way.”

Tegan offered, “I told you to avoid the blood as a precaution. These people went mad after exposure to that potion Dr. Wilson created, not from biting each other.”

“You should shoot me,” Danbury said. “Just in case.”

I shook my head. “We’ll finish clearing the town, then I need to have words with Dr. Wilson. I’ll ask him if there’s any risk.”

Danbury curled his hand into a fist. “If I go wrong, promise me you won’t let me turn into that.”

I gazed down at the bodies. “I’ll take care of you. Don’t worry.” The statement sounded tender when it was, in fact, a pledge to end his life.

“Let me clean and wrap it.” Tegan took the soldier’s arm. She put on thin leather gloves, then poured antiseptic into the bite to flush it. Afterward, she smeared some healing salve and bound it with a length of cloth. The soldiers watched her as if mesmerized; I didn’t know if it was the grace of her movements or the silent threat of what might lie beneath the bandage.

Spence holstered his gun. “This is no challenge at all. I’m surprised the townsfolk couldn’t handle them.”

Thornton added, “It helps that they’re stupid and weak.”

“The people here aren’t trained to fight,” Zach put in.

He was right; it made a difference. Most folks, when confronted by a nightmare, tended to run and hide. It was a rare soul that took up whatever weapon came to hand with no prior experience. But somebody else might be able to explain why most people fled and one in a hundred decided to do battle.

After that, we met only stragglers, one so weak he was on his knees when we encountered him. Spence murmured, “Poor sod,” and put a bullet in his head. The madman tipped over backward, and I swear at the moment of death, he was relieved to have it done—or maybe that was just what I wanted to see in his tormented features because otherwise this day would create a weight too heavy to carry.

“I’d like to speak with this Dr. Wilson, too.” Thornton smacked the haft of his hand ax against his palm, which I took to mean he wanted to lop off the scientist’s head.

I held up a hand, signaling quiet. After few seconds, I was certain. There were more nearby. How many, I couldn’t be sure. I wished Stalker had been able to provide a more accurate count. The men moved behind me, their fang-and-bone necklaces rattling. Down the street I found the source of the noise. This house had proven unable to withstand the onslaught, and the front door stood open like a gaping wound. A blood trail led inside.

I swallowed back my dread, whispering, “There won’t be room for all of us. I need four with me, six outside on guard.”

“I’m with you,” Thornton said.