Pocket Apocalypse
Page 86
“Well?” she said brightly, looking from face to face. “Where’s Gabby? You did find her, didn’t you? She shouldn’t have run off like that. She scared the life right out of me.”
“We found her,” said Shelby. “Mum, she’s been bitten. Cooper bit her. He passed the infection on to her.”
“No, he didn’t,” said Charlotte, almost serenely. “She would have told us if she’d been bitten. She knows better than to hide something like that.”
“Apparently not,” said Raina. “She ran because she’d let the cat—or wolf, I suppose—out of the bag, and she was afraid of being locked up. I bet that’s why Cooper’s found support among the Society, you know. Anyone who’d been exposed saw the world getting narrower around them, and they took the only option they saw left.”
Charlotte frowned at her daughter, but didn’t say anything. Instead, she turned to me, raising her eyebrows, and asked, “Well? Where is she?”
“She’s with a friend who may be able to offer her some unique treatment options,” I said. “It was her choice, and we decided to allow her to make it. Charlotte, how are you organizing this line? Have you been keeping track of who’s in it, or who’s been cleared by the Aeslin mice?”
Charlotte blinked, frowning again, before she said, “The Aeslin mice haven’t found anyone who’s been infected yet. I don’t think the situation is as dire as you’ve made it out to be.”
“Mum, that doesn’t answer the question,” said Shelby. “Have you been keeping a list? Making notes? Anything that lets us know who’s already been cleared?”
The mice on the rail began squeaking and squawking, saying something I couldn’t make out over the sound of the humans on the lawn. I tried to peer unobtrusively around Charlotte, who was blocking my view of the rail.
She shifted positions as soon as she saw me lean, blocking my view more effectively. “Look at me while we’re talking,” she snapped. “Didn’t your mother teach you any manners?”
“Please leave my mother out of this,” I said, as politely as I could. “I have done nothing to question your parenting skills, and I’ll thank you to do the same for her.”
“No, but you’re questioning everything else, aren’t you? ‘Did you keep a list’ and ‘we’ve taken your daughter for a new sort of treatment’ and ‘the werewolves are infiltrating your organization, good thing I’m here to save the day.’” She took a step toward me, jabbing her finger at my chest. There was a cold, glossy look in her eyes that made it clear she’d been looking for a good target, and thought she had found one in me. “Got anything else you’d like to question, Mr. Price, or shall I get back to the business of saving my people?”
An unearthly screech rose from behind her, high and shrill and agonized. It had barely registered with me before I was moving, shoving Charlotte out of the way and diving for the rail.
I was already too late. The sound cut off a short second later, while I was still lunging forward. A large Thirty-Sixer stood frozen on the top step of the porch, red leaking from between his closed fingers. One of the mice was nowhere to be seen. The two others had raced halfway up the porch support with the uncanny gravity-defying powers shared by terrified rodents the world over. They were clinging to the wood with all four paws, shrieking.
As my lunge ended, carrying me into range of their tiny voices, I finally made out the words: “MURDER! MURDER! HELP! MURDER!”
I didn’t stop. I didn’t think. I didn’t consider the fact that the man in front of me was easily a foot taller and a hundred pounds heavier than I was. I just let my momentum carry me into him, burying my fist in his nose with a satisfying crunching sound that did nothing to lessen the sickening dread in my belly. The man stumbled back, losing his balance as his heels went over the step, and toppled backward into the crowd—less because of my awesome pugilism skills, and more because gravity does not like being treated as a toy.
His hand came open as he fell. It would almost have been a mercy if it hadn’t. The body of the crushed Aeslin mouse was too small to make an audible sound when it hit the porch.
It may as well have echoed through the entire world.
The mice on the support beam raced back down and along the rail. I put out my hand, and the two of them jumped a full six inches to huddle in my palm, shaking, sides heaving as they struggled to breathe through what must have been a full-blown panic attack. I brought my hand to my chest, sheltering the mice, protecting them from any further attacks. I didn’t say anything. I just looked at the fallen man with the bloody fingers, who was now being helped up by his compatriots, and waited.
“I wanted to show that I was clean,” he protested, raising his clean hand to rub the side of his face. He carefully avoided touching his nose, which was leaking blood and looked like it might have been knocked askew. Good. I wanted to punch him again, and keep punching him until he looked like the broken thing I was refusing to let myself see. “The damn mouse wouldn’t check me. Said it wasn’t right to check me until you said it could continue. I just wanted to show that I was clean.”
He looked from side to side as he spoke, looking for support among his compatriots. They drew away, not meeting his eyes. I watched this edifying sight for a few seconds before I took a breath, steeling myself against what needed to be done, and knelt.
The mouse he had closed his hand around looked no different than any of the dead mice I had encountered in my life, the ones purchased from pet stores to feed to my snakes, the ones carried into the house by Crow, croaking proudly about his skills as a hunter. (He knew better than to hunt the Aeslin. The Aeslin had a nasty tendency to hunt back, and they could carry a grudge for a long, long time.) So no, there was nothing special about this mouse, save for the small necklace of buttons it wore around its thick rodent neck, and the fact that only minutes before it had been a talking, thinking, intelligent creature with a life and a future of its own.
I couldn’t bring myself to pick it up. I looked at it, lying there broken and motionless, and I couldn’t do it. Instead, I cupped my other hand over the Aeslin mice that were still alive and straightened, turning to face the Tanners. All three of them were staring at me, Shelby with her hands clapped over her mouth like that would somehow keep the tears inside, Charlotte and Raina with matching looks of wide-eyed horror.
“We found her,” said Shelby. “Mum, she’s been bitten. Cooper bit her. He passed the infection on to her.”
“No, he didn’t,” said Charlotte, almost serenely. “She would have told us if she’d been bitten. She knows better than to hide something like that.”
“Apparently not,” said Raina. “She ran because she’d let the cat—or wolf, I suppose—out of the bag, and she was afraid of being locked up. I bet that’s why Cooper’s found support among the Society, you know. Anyone who’d been exposed saw the world getting narrower around them, and they took the only option they saw left.”
Charlotte frowned at her daughter, but didn’t say anything. Instead, she turned to me, raising her eyebrows, and asked, “Well? Where is she?”
“She’s with a friend who may be able to offer her some unique treatment options,” I said. “It was her choice, and we decided to allow her to make it. Charlotte, how are you organizing this line? Have you been keeping track of who’s in it, or who’s been cleared by the Aeslin mice?”
Charlotte blinked, frowning again, before she said, “The Aeslin mice haven’t found anyone who’s been infected yet. I don’t think the situation is as dire as you’ve made it out to be.”
“Mum, that doesn’t answer the question,” said Shelby. “Have you been keeping a list? Making notes? Anything that lets us know who’s already been cleared?”
The mice on the rail began squeaking and squawking, saying something I couldn’t make out over the sound of the humans on the lawn. I tried to peer unobtrusively around Charlotte, who was blocking my view of the rail.
She shifted positions as soon as she saw me lean, blocking my view more effectively. “Look at me while we’re talking,” she snapped. “Didn’t your mother teach you any manners?”
“Please leave my mother out of this,” I said, as politely as I could. “I have done nothing to question your parenting skills, and I’ll thank you to do the same for her.”
“No, but you’re questioning everything else, aren’t you? ‘Did you keep a list’ and ‘we’ve taken your daughter for a new sort of treatment’ and ‘the werewolves are infiltrating your organization, good thing I’m here to save the day.’” She took a step toward me, jabbing her finger at my chest. There was a cold, glossy look in her eyes that made it clear she’d been looking for a good target, and thought she had found one in me. “Got anything else you’d like to question, Mr. Price, or shall I get back to the business of saving my people?”
An unearthly screech rose from behind her, high and shrill and agonized. It had barely registered with me before I was moving, shoving Charlotte out of the way and diving for the rail.
I was already too late. The sound cut off a short second later, while I was still lunging forward. A large Thirty-Sixer stood frozen on the top step of the porch, red leaking from between his closed fingers. One of the mice was nowhere to be seen. The two others had raced halfway up the porch support with the uncanny gravity-defying powers shared by terrified rodents the world over. They were clinging to the wood with all four paws, shrieking.
As my lunge ended, carrying me into range of their tiny voices, I finally made out the words: “MURDER! MURDER! HELP! MURDER!”
I didn’t stop. I didn’t think. I didn’t consider the fact that the man in front of me was easily a foot taller and a hundred pounds heavier than I was. I just let my momentum carry me into him, burying my fist in his nose with a satisfying crunching sound that did nothing to lessen the sickening dread in my belly. The man stumbled back, losing his balance as his heels went over the step, and toppled backward into the crowd—less because of my awesome pugilism skills, and more because gravity does not like being treated as a toy.
His hand came open as he fell. It would almost have been a mercy if it hadn’t. The body of the crushed Aeslin mouse was too small to make an audible sound when it hit the porch.
It may as well have echoed through the entire world.
The mice on the support beam raced back down and along the rail. I put out my hand, and the two of them jumped a full six inches to huddle in my palm, shaking, sides heaving as they struggled to breathe through what must have been a full-blown panic attack. I brought my hand to my chest, sheltering the mice, protecting them from any further attacks. I didn’t say anything. I just looked at the fallen man with the bloody fingers, who was now being helped up by his compatriots, and waited.
“I wanted to show that I was clean,” he protested, raising his clean hand to rub the side of his face. He carefully avoided touching his nose, which was leaking blood and looked like it might have been knocked askew. Good. I wanted to punch him again, and keep punching him until he looked like the broken thing I was refusing to let myself see. “The damn mouse wouldn’t check me. Said it wasn’t right to check me until you said it could continue. I just wanted to show that I was clean.”
He looked from side to side as he spoke, looking for support among his compatriots. They drew away, not meeting his eyes. I watched this edifying sight for a few seconds before I took a breath, steeling myself against what needed to be done, and knelt.
The mouse he had closed his hand around looked no different than any of the dead mice I had encountered in my life, the ones purchased from pet stores to feed to my snakes, the ones carried into the house by Crow, croaking proudly about his skills as a hunter. (He knew better than to hunt the Aeslin. The Aeslin had a nasty tendency to hunt back, and they could carry a grudge for a long, long time.) So no, there was nothing special about this mouse, save for the small necklace of buttons it wore around its thick rodent neck, and the fact that only minutes before it had been a talking, thinking, intelligent creature with a life and a future of its own.
I couldn’t bring myself to pick it up. I looked at it, lying there broken and motionless, and I couldn’t do it. Instead, I cupped my other hand over the Aeslin mice that were still alive and straightened, turning to face the Tanners. All three of them were staring at me, Shelby with her hands clapped over her mouth like that would somehow keep the tears inside, Charlotte and Raina with matching looks of wide-eyed horror.
