Chapters (15)
“You can’t afford to lose what little muscle you’ve got.” Her face screwed up “You better not be peeing on my leg—”
“Sorry,” Bugsy mumbled.
“It’s this place,” the Angel said quietly, looking around at the desolation. “It’s sucking the life out of everything. Zip up.”
“I gotta have something to eat,” Bugsy croaked.
“I’ve got some food in my duffel,” the Angel said. “Let’s hunt up Tinker.”
“Maybe we better get out of here. I mean, look at us, just three of us, here, and some Kazakhs—”
Tinker came striding from down the road and heard Bugsy. “Guess again.”
“The Kazakhs are gone?” Bugsy repeated numbly.
“That’s what I said, hoon.” Tinker didn’t look pleased. “I was up all night—couldn’t sleep if I tried.” The Angel thought he looked more haggard, more worried, and angrier than yesterday. “I didn’t hear them bugger off last night, but I heard … things moving around us in the buildings.”
“What kind of things?”
“Who the hell knows, sonny boy,” Tinker suddenly yelled. “Awful, horrible, slimy, choking, killing things. And they’re coming after us!”
“What about the others?” the Angel said quietly.
“The others?” They both turned to look at her.
“Bubbles, Earth Witch, Lohengrin, the rest … the ones who already went in.”
Tinker bit his lip.
“How’s the communications with Babel?”
“Not good,” Tinker said. “There’s plenty of interference. Static. Weird whistling sounds. Voices, almost, like someone else on the line…”
“Let’s give it a shot,” the Angel said. “Call Babel.”
Tinker nodded and got on the radio, but it was worse than he’d said. All they could hear was a steady stream of sharp, staccato static with momentary instants of lucidity that produced a stray word or short phrase. Some words were not in Babel’s voice; some were not even in English or any earthly language.
The occasional burst of insane laughter added a frission that crawled up the Angel’s spine like a spider with icy feet.
“SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSScomeSSSSSSSSSSLohehenSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS.fghtagnmwalwltSSSSSSSSSSSSHAHAHAHASSSSSSSSSSpleaseSSSSSSSSSSSSwrckggugghh…”
Tinker shut the radio down with a savage, jerky motion.
“It won’t get better,” he muttered.
“It won’t,” the Angel agreed quietly. She knew what she had to do. She didn’t want to do it. She knew, in her heart, that Billy would never want her to go alone and unsupported back into that hell but she knew sure as hellfire and damnation that he, himself, would be the first one in. “I got out once. I can do it again.”
She went around the back of the SUV and took out her duffel bag. She dumped all its contents on the ground. She divided her food and water into two piles, one twice the size of the other.
“You don’t have to do this,” Tinker said as Bugsy shuffled forward, eyeing the cache of food.
The Angel shook her head. “We all came on this journey together. You remain loyal to those you come with. Billy taught me that simple fact. If we can’t stand for each other, how can we stand against the Adversary?”