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“Only what’s left of them,” said the blonde.
The first boy held out a hand—very careful of So
mbra—toward Gutsy. “My name’s Benny Imura,” he said. “We . . . um . . . well, we’re here to help.”
“Help what?” said Gutsy, getting up without his assistance. “We’re losing. We’re all going to die.”
The boy grinned. “Maybe not. I kind of have a plan.”
“You won’t like it,” said the other boy. “No one ever does.”
As it turned out, Gutsy liked it just fine.
99
GRIMM SLAMMED INTO A PAIR of ravagers, the blades on his shoulders shearing through their thigh muscles. A third ravager fell as a sniper bullet took him in the eye. Ledger leaped over his body and rushed at the leader of the wolf pack.
“Yo, Raggedy Man,” he bellowed, “let’s dance.”
There was a flicker of confusion on the ravager’s face, but then he was backpedaling away from the slashing blade. He turned and dove into a very smooth roll and came up with a rifle, but Grimm hit him hard and drove the ravager back and down.
Even so, the ravager twisted as he fell and drove a stunningly powerful punch into the side of Grimm’s head, leaving a dent and tearing a cry of pain from the dog. Grimm staggered and fell, and the ravager scooped up the gun and swung the barrel toward Ledger.
Ledger was already there and he brought his blade down on the weapon, striking sparks from the barrel. The gun fell, but the ravager immediately kicked Ledger in the stomach. The old soldier went down hard, his sword spinning away. Then the leader and two other ravagers charged at Ledger, going for the kill.
• • •
Sam Imura had no more rounds for his rifle, so he abandoned it and took a Colt CM901 rifle from a duffel bag they’d brought with them. The burned-out old car he had been using as a shooting blind was now too far from the action. It was time to follow Ledger into the thick of it, as he had done so many times all those years ago. He slung a smaller bag, filled with as many additional magazines as he could carry, slantwise across his body, and stuffed his pockets with magazines for his Sig Sauer P226 handgun.
Then he was running.
He’d lost sight of Ledger when the big idiot tried to take down the ravager they thought was the Raggedy Man. There were infected everywhere, and they turned to face the running man.
Sam preferred the distance and solitude of a sniper’s elevated firing position, but he was, first and foremost, a world-class special operator. That meant there was no kind of weapon he couldn’t pick up and use. There were few weapons he had never fired. The Colt and the Sig Sauer were old friends. He knew how to make them sing dark songs.
They filled the night with the music of Armageddon.
• • •
On the wall, Alethea and Spider were running out of catwalk. Mrs. Cuddly crawled along with them as they retreated, leaving a slug’s trail of glistening red.
“Behind you,” she screamed, and Alethea turned as one of the fast-infected flung himself at her, fingernails curled into claws, mouth wide for a bite. Alethea turned too late.
Then the leaping monster seemed to freeze in midair as if it had hit an invisible wall.
Alethea saw the shiny tip of a knife protruding from between its broken teeth. There was a grunt of effort and a figure they had not seen before tore a long spear from the back of the infected’s head, letting the body fall.
Alethea, Spider, and Mrs. Cuddly all gaped at the figure holding the spear. Tall, powerful, armored, deadly. And totally unknown to them.
“Stop staring and fight,” said the figure in a ghostly whisper of a voice.
More of the dead rushed at them, and the tall girl turned to fight the ones behind her. Alethea and Spider exchanged a look, eyebrows raised.
“Works for me,” said Alethea, and whirled to swing Rainbow Smite into the face of another monster. Spider laughed and joined his foster sister. They formed a protective triangle around Mrs. Cuddly, and whenever one of their enemies fell to the catwalk, injured but not dead, the meat tenderizer and the cleaver were ready.
• • •
“Get inside,” gasped Ford, pushing Urrea toward the open door of the general store. They were both hurt, though neither had been bitten. Their pads had saved them so far, but now there were simply too many los muertos to fight. Alice caught Urrea as he stumbled and half carried the old writer inside. Ford kept swinging his ax to try to buy them enough time, but gray hands were plucking at his clothes, hooking around the edges of his hockey pads.
