They kept the same routine for the next dozen or so homes: A quick sprint across the dead, lifeless yards, slipping into the shade of the buildings; then they’d slink their way around the back to the other side and Alec would peek around the corner, searching for any sign of company. Once he gave the all clear, they sprinted to the next house and started again.
They made it to the end of another street, where you could turn left or right.
“Okay,” Alec whispered. “We need to head down this road and take the second left. That one runs into the big street where we saw all that partying going on.”
“Partying?” Mark repeated.
“Yeah. It reminded me of some crankheads we busted in the twenties when martial law was declared. Those people were just as nuts—bloody hell-bent psychos, they were. Come on.”
Crankheads. Mark had known some druggies in his life, but those were the worst. The drug had gotten stronger and stronger over the decades. Now it was something you never came back from. Never. For some reason the word stuck in Mark’s mind.
“Hey!” Alec was halfway to the next house, and he turned back toward Mark. “Fine time to daydream!”
Mark shook off the cobwebs and ran after Alec. He caught up and they booked it to the side of a three-story mansion, the shade a welcome relief as always. Even if it didn’t last long. They sidled along the wall until they reached the back. Alec took a peek; then they stepped around the corner and started for the other side. Mark had only taken three or four steps when he heard a wet, cackling sound above him. He looked up, half expecting to see some kind of exotic animal, the noise had been so strange and alien.
But there was a woman perched on the roof, as ratty and filthy as any of the other infected Mark had seen recently. Her hair stuck out in every direction and her face was smeared with mud, the pattern almost ritualistic-looking.
She made that same cackling sound—somewhere between a laugh and a racking cough. She smiled, revealing a set of perfectly white teeth, but then turned it into a snarl. After another burst of cackles she rolled backward and disappeared behind the lip of the roof’s gutter—one of the few homes that still had a roof.
Mark shuddered. He hoped he’d be able to get the image of the woman out of his mind. He turned back and saw Alec was standing a few feet away from the house, aiming his weapon toward the roof but with no shot.
“Where’d she go?” the man asked absently.
“Let’s just get out of here. Maybe she’s by herself.”
“Fat chance.”
They shuffled along until they reached the far corner of the back side of the house. Alec leaned out for a quick look.
“All clear. We’re getting closer, so buck up and look alive.”
Mark nodded.
Alec took off for the next house and Mark was just stepping out to do the same when a horrific screech stopped him cold. He looked up just in time to see the woman leap off the roof, flying through the air with her arms outstretched like wings. Her face was lit with madness as she shrieked, plummeting toward Mark, who couldn’t believe what he was seeing.
He turned to run but it was too late. Her body slammed into his shoulders and they both crashed to the ground.
CHAPTER 52
She went for his eyes, as if the impact of the fall had done nothing to her. Howls poured from her mouth as if she were some kind of tortured creature. The wind had been knocked out of him, and his knees ached where they’d thumped against the hard ground. He rolled over, gasping for air as he grabbed her hands, tried to force them away from his face. She ripped free of his grasp and clawed at his ears, his nose, his cheeks, scratching and slapping. He continued to fight her off.
“Help!” he screamed to Alec.
“Push her off so I can get a clear shot!” the man yelled back.
Mark twisted his body and darted a quick glance at Alec. He was standing there, hopping around as he aimed his weapon, waiting until he could risk firing the Transvice at the woman.
“Just come get—” Mark started to yell, but her fingers were suddenly in his mouth, pulling at his lips. She hooked a finger into his cheek and pulled as if trying to rip the side of his face off, but her finger slipped out. Her hand flew up into the air, then came crashing back into his face with a clenched fist. Pain and anger burst through him like a lit chain of firecrackers.
Finally able to breathe, he got his hands underneath her body and stuck his elbows out, then pushed hard. She flew off him, crashing onto her back with an audible thud that momentarily shut her up. Then she was scrambling to get back onto her hands and knees. But Mark had righted himself first, and he lurched forward, then planted his weight on his left foot and kicked out with his right, slamming the toe of his shoe into the side of her head. She screamed and flopped over, curled up into a ball and held her face in her arms. Rocked back and forth, whimpering.
Mark quickly scrambled away from her. “Go ahead, do it!”
But Alec didn’t. He calmly walked up to stand beside Mark, the end of his weapon pointed at the suffering woman. “It’d be a waste. Let’s save it for bigger game.”
“But what if she follows us? Goes and gets her friends? Ruins our chance at surprising them up ahead?”
Alec gave her a long look, then raised his eyes to Mark. “If it makes you feel better, then you do it.” He turned and started walking toward the next house, scanning the area for potential enemies.
Mark went over to where he’d dropped his Transvice and backpack in the melee of fighting off the crazy woman. He didn’t take his eyes off her as he picked both items up, slinging the pack onto his shoulders and tightening the straps, then hefting the weapon in both hands once they were free. He aimed it at the lady and walked closer until he was just a few feet away. Still she lay curled up in the fetal position, whimpering and moaning, rocking back and forth. Mark found that he felt no pity, no sorrow. She was past being human, had lost every ounce of sanity, and that wasn’t his fault. And for all he knew, she had friends nearby, or was just playing weak so that they’d walk away and leave her alone.