She let out a small cry and took his hand, slowly emerging from the trunk. “How long have you been in there?” Kitten asked.
“I don’t know. Days? I’m sorry I’m a mess.”
“Here,” Macon said and handed her his canteen of water. “Drink slowly.”
She raised the water canteen to her lips and gingerly took a few sips, another test because if she were Rabid, she’d have refused the liquid, something Godara had taught me.
“Take this.” I handed her the cattle prod since she was presently unarmed. “Do you want to come with us or stay here?”
She glanced down at the trunk, then took in our surroundings with a blank look on her face. I hoped she wasn’t going into shock. “I’ll come with you,” she said at last.
Our next stop was the mess hall, destroyed as well, with tables overturned and trays scattered across the floor. Dead bodies were everywhere, hard to distinguish their identities because the flesh of their corpses had been ripped from the bone. These people had suffered, and spent their last few moments of life in agony. It wasn’t right.
There were a few live Rabids in the kitchen who sprang out, but we were ready for them. We played chicken with them, using the tables as obstacles until we could get them isolated. Then Audrey hit them with the cattle prod and Macon tackled them to the ground, a solid maneuver. A couple of the Rabids didn’t have any reaction to the prod, so we had to use tranquilizing darts, but we had to be stingy with those. We were down to seven darts by the time we reached the administrative offices.
“This is where it gets real,” I told them. “We’re in close quarters now, and they’re going to attack. It’s us or them,” I said, looking at Kitten pointedly. “Got it?”
“Yes, boss,” he said, gripping the Glock tighter. He hadn’t had to use it, yet.
“We’re going to need to split up,” I told them. “Teresa and Audrey stay here and disable any escapees. Kitten and I will take the right side of the hallway. Artemis and Macon, you take the left. Stay within shouting distance.”
We all proceeded along the hallway, calling out “clear” after every empty office we encountered, checking in with Gizmo and Wylie at the command center for any intel they could offer. I shut the doors behind us, so no unaccounted-for Rabids would wander in. The fluorescent lights flickered, casting uneasy shadows, and at times plunging us into darkness. We reached an office I recognized as Captain Crenshaw’s. The reception area was dead silent, except for the wet sounds of a Rabid feeding, too faint for Kitten to hear.
If the Captain was being fed on, I really didn’t want Kitten to see it–that’s the sort of shit you never unsee–but as I slowly rounded the corner, I discovered she was not the victim but the perpetrator, hunched over behind the desk with her powerful back and shoulders to me, feasting on the face of a subordinate. I took a few steps back to where Kitten was still waiting on high alert.
“We’ve got a live one,” I told him.
“Captain Crenshaw?” he asked tentatively.
I nodded. “Guard the door and watch my six.” I’d need him to act as scout while I dealt with this. I didn’t have the cattle prod anymore as I’d given it to Audrey, but I did have a taser, so I pulled it out, still with my baton in the other hand. I rounded the desk silently, intending to tase her from behind, but sensing my presence, she sprang from the body and squared off, head tilted as if sizing me up. Her uniform was wrinkled and stained. One sleeve was torn, exposing where she must have been bitten, the flesh already showing signs of advanced infection. Dried blood crusted her fingertips and bloody spit dripped from her slack jaw onto the cheap, musty carpet. Her prosthesis was still functioning. It probably helped that the disease gave its host superhuman strength
I rounded the desk, putting the solid block of furniture between us, thinking I could potentially knock her out with mybaton, hopefully without causing any long-term damage. She rounded the other side, knocking over the coffee pot in the corner of the room as well as the table where it was sitting. I waited until she was within reach, pulled back the baton to tap the back of her skull, but as the baton was arching toward her, she grabbed hold of it, ripped it out of my hands and threw it against the wall.
Her movements were so fast that I couldn’t keep up. Suddenly I was flat on my back on top of the desk with her distorted face looming above me, her hands like talons on my forearms, holding me down. She had me pinned, milky eyes wide with excitement as she locked on to me, her next meal. Her lips peeled back, teeth stained with blood as she opened her mouth wide. I thrashed about on the desk but it was useless–she was too strong. A string of drool dangled from her chin, swaying as she leaned in for the kill.
I had no idea where Kitten was, but before I could call out to him, a gunshot rang out and Crenshaw crumpled on top of me, howling like the devil himself. I grabbed her by both arms and body-slammed her onto the ground. Kitten was immediately in action, rolling her over and twisting her arms behind her back to tie her wrists, even as she screamed bloody murder.
“Where’d you hit her?” I asked as I turned her onto her back so we could check the damage.
“Her knee, like you said. She should survive it. She’s going to be pissed at me though.”
“Yeah, she is,” I said as relief and gratitude rushed through me. “Lucky she likes you.”
“Maybe not anymore.”
He ripped off his shirt, his signature move, and began tearing it into pieces, probably to act as a tourniquet to stem the bleeding from her leg. Even as he worked, Crenshaw jerked and wriggled in an attempt to bite him, so I retrieved my baton andheld it against her neck with both hands. The look she gave me was absolutely murderous. When Kitten was finished, we both stood to assess the situation.
“We’d better move fast if we want her to live,” Kitten said.
“Roger that.” I got my bearings and checked in with my body. Healthy and whole. The endorphins from surviving a Rabid attack were better than any drug. “We’re going to make it,” I said, believing it myself for the first time.
He glanced up at me and said with complete confidence. “Of course we are. You’re in charge.”
TWENTY
KITTEN
My boyfriend was a badass.
