Chapter 26: 25: BAIT

Morbid luck helped Adam navigate the havoc within the temple. There were enough humans on the main floor to distract the growing number of rabid parasites from paying more attention to him while fleeing, hysterical students kept Jackal’s armed men heading downstairs and not upstairs. He headed to the bishop's office, hurrying up the spiral stairs two and three steps at a time, keeping tense watch for armed figures in black.

Heat flooded Adam’s face underneath the mask. He moved between reanimated threats, trying not to pay attention to the shrieks around him from both the infected and the people on the ground. Panic welled in his chest and he shoved it away since there was nothing he could do. Not against a massive, growing swarm on his own classmates horrendously changed.

The red manual double doors leading to the bishop’s office came into sight once he broke onto the third floor. They’d been thrust wide open earlier to welcome the masses of students inside for drug deals but were shut tight now when he arrived. He pushed against them, finding firm resistance within. With fist clenched tight he pounded against the wood, shouting.

“Open up!”

Straggling parasites wandered nearby—former students, judging by the costumes, who were now mutated into hellish form. Decaying even, rapidly, and falling to pieces right before Adam’s eyes. Their flesh was mottled with purple and black discolorations that erupted with oozing blisters. He watched them amble about, at times craning back to shriek or swivel their heads in search of vulnerable prey, and he banged on the door again harder.

“Hey!" he barked. "Open the door! I’m here to help! Come on—hurry!”

Adam kept pounding until the door slid open, revealing the red interior within. He rushed inside at once and turned around fast to shut the door behind him, scrambling to block the entry until something solid whacked him in the head instead. Reeling, he stumbled backwards and almost fell.

“Fuck!” he spat.

He grunted as he reached for his head, guarding when the solid object whacked him again on his cowered arms and everywhere else he was exposed. Adam retreated, shoving back against a figure as it darted into his line of vision, and he spotted within the disarray a flash of red with a lion’s mane of blonde. It was Gracie right there in front of him. Gracie was attacking.

Fucking Gracie.

A hiss outside revived terror. Adam shoved the hysterical, thrashing girl aside and darted back to the door, yanking it closed with heaving strength before the parasites could get inside. He winced as the hard object struck him again in the head.

“Fucking hell!” he roared, spinning around.

Gracie shoved him hard against the door with surprising strength and snapped a sharp knee into his groin, digging in with merciless force. He buckled forward, groaning, and winced as he felt Gracie strike him again in the skull, this time with the flat of her elbow before yanking the firearm out of his sweaty grip. Adam cursed, stumbling forward, and reached for her as she hopped away.

He peered at her through squinted eyes, still cradling himself, head throbbing, as she screamed. The muzzle of the gun was now aimed right for him and she bounced back and forth, frantic with panic.

“Fuck off—savage!” she hollered, voice shrill and cracking from strain. “I’ll fucking shoot! I’ll fucking do it! Pig! Get away from me!”

Adam focused his gaze and saw her face, bruised and red from the fight. The black had spread upward to create opaque rings under her eyes and her mouth was swollen in addition, puffing up at the corner. Streaming tears soaked her cheeks and had streaked painted colors from her eyes. Both she and her aim wavered.

“Don’t touch me!” she shouted. “Animal!”

Adam spotted the object Gracie had struck him with on the floor beside her, a toy spray gun filled with raspberry jelly. Gracie seemed ready to attack with a real gun now and he huffed in pain as he called out to her.

“Grace!” he choked. “Gracie—stop! It’s me!”

She circled him with the pistol. “Who’s me!?”

“Adam!”

“…W-who—?”

“Adam!” he called again. “It’s Adam! Me—Adam! Don’t shoot! Don’t fucking shoot! Fucking hell!”

“A-Adam…?”

“Fuck me!”

He tore the mask off of his face and her eyes widened with shock. A strangled cry escaped her and she was on him in an instant, squeezing him tight and nearly knocking him to the ground. Wet cheeks pressed against his own as she clung to him.

“Adam!” she cried, new tears falling hot against his flesh. “Adam! It’s you! You’re alive—!”

“Careful…with that gun.” He breathed hard as she buried him, gripping tight to his frame and squeezing the air out of him. “Grace—relax,” he choked. “Please!”

“Adam!”

“Oh, come on—”

He pushed her off and she dragged him back, raising her head to press her mouth hard to his. She tasted like salt—tears—sweat—and blood. He managed to peel her off once more until she pulled him back, sobbing words that made no sense, her gaze darting around every which way and making Adam feel like he was losing his mind too.

“Stop!” Adam grabbed hold of her chin and forced her to look at him, staring into glossy, trembling eyes without break. “Stop it. Stop it right now. I can’t. Okay? I can’t do this with you right now. I can’t deal with you like this. Want me to lose my shit? Because I’m about to. Easily. All right? Fucking…stop it!”

A heavy breath escaped him. He spotted terror in her eyes that must have been in his as well. He spoke softly, pecking Gracie on the forehead when she remained quiet, guiding her with a gentler tone.

“Listen,” he said. “We have to go. It’s really bad. A lot of people out there…are dead. We’ll die here too if we don’t leave.” She stiffened and Adam kept his hold tight on her. “I know it’s scary. I’m scared. I can’t promise you anything because I don’t know what’s going to happen. But we have to move. Okay?”

“O…kay…” she replied.

A crash against the door startled them both and Gracie cried out, jumping out of his hold to hurry away. Adam scanned the room fast, moving toward a disheveled cabinet he’d seen a dealer use as a makeshift stand, and with strength summoned from parts unknown he heaved the cabinet over to the door, using it to block the entrance. Gracie rushed over to help as soon as she realized his intent and between both of their efforts they reinforced themselves inside the bishop’s office.

“You’re hurt.”

Gracie swept over to Adam and caressed his face, mouth twisted with worry. Her fingers grazed his skin and caused him pain. He grimaced.

“Yeah,” he replied.

“They hurt you.” Her voice wavered as her gaze darted over every part of him with worry. “Adam—they hurt you!”

“I know. They’re still trying.” His eyes narrowed as he lowered his head. “It’s political. Or…something. I don’t know. My family’s involved. We’re stuck, though, and we have to get out.” Adam rested his hand against the cabinet for a moment, vertigo rushing him. “This is bad. Shit!” His lids pressed tight. He remembered death, again and again. “Fucking hell…Jonah. Ivan. They’re…dead.”

“Dead?” Gracie repeated, dazed.

“They’re dead. Dead.”

“No. No!” She shook her head as if that might make it untrue. “How?” she demanded. “How did they…?”

“Ivan killed Jonah. He was one of them—”

“—No!”

“One of them—he was one of these guys killing everybody. So I killed Ivan. Okay?” Adam pointed at the gun in Gracie’s grip. “That’s his gun. He was ready to use it on me. I took it from him—snapped his finger. Fucked up his hand. It’s an anchoring trick—you know? Not so hard if you’re fast enough—but you have to be fast. All the power has to be in struck at the right angle. El taught me how to do that—how to disarm. How to do worse. A while ago. He taught me a lot of dumb things.”

“Adam!”

“They’re dead,” said Adam, eyes burning with strange rawness. “Dead like everyone else. Maybe us, too. We could die. We…might die.”

“Who?” Tears glimmered in Gracie’s eyes anew. “Who did this? Jackal? Was this…Jackal? Was all of this…a trap?”

“Yeah.” Adam nodded distantly. “Jackal. That…fucker. This was a trap.”

“Fucking piece of—oh! I knew it!” Gracie clenched her hand into a fist and spat on the floor. “Never trust a native! They’re shit—all of them! Fucking dirty savages—fucking disgusting diseased blood. Every single one!”

A faint smile came and left from Adam’s face. There was nothing funny happening but humor flashed anyway.

“Are you alone?” he said.

“N-no.” She turned her head and gestured at the inner sanctum of the office. “The…juniors let me out when everything started. Everyone ran and there was shooting right outside. I was able to get a few other back in here before it got really bad but I had to close the door so they wouldn’t find us.”

“Okay. How many people are here?”

“Eleven,” said Gracie faintly. “Eleven of us. Eleven.”

“Good.” Adam straightened again, taking a deep breath to steady his shaking nerves. “Really good. You helped. That’s brave. Good job.”

“Our COMs are still not working. We keep calling for help but there’s no response.” She wiped away a crusting trail of red that slipped from her broken nose. “No one can hear us. No one knows we’re here. No one—”

“I got it. I got it. We’ll figure something else out. All right?” Adam tapped her chin. “All right?” he prompted again.

“All right,” she repeated.

“Yeah. Everything’s all right.” He pointed to the door of the sanctum. “Go get them. We have to be fast. There’s no time.”

“Okay.”

Adam remained by the cabinet as Gracie hurried to the sanctum. She knocked in pattern before the inhabitants opened the door and, after a few seconds, she exited again followed by a group of students in costume, all of them tense and huddled together with worry. Dalia was present, though Adam didn’t see any of Gracie’s other friends present.

“Good to see you, mate,” said one of the other seniors—one named Gren. Adam remembered Gren from Civics class. Gren was all right. “You’re alive.”

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“Aye.” He gave Gren a short nod. “I’m here. So are you. That’s a lot.” Adam motioned to Gracie and she walked up to him again, cradling the gun to her chest as he fished the other mask out of his pocket. He extended it to her and offered her the bundle of reinforced fabric. “It’s a mask,” he said. “One of theirs, like the one I was wearing before when you let me in. If you have it on the parasites can’t find you. Something inside of it hides you from them. I bet it’s from Defense, some kind of internal webbing that blocks something about you those things can sense.”

“You only have one other?” asked the smallest of the juniors. “How are we supposed to get out?”

“I’m sorry. Only one other. But if you all stick together and follow the plan it’s enough to get out.”

“Are you sure?”

No.

That was the response that crossed his mind. He remained steady and answered, instead,

“Yes. If you guys stick together and don’t let anyone fall behind you won’t get caught in what’s going on out there.” Adam surveyed the group earnestly. “But—if you leave the group or if you pay too much attention to what you see—you won’t get out. You’ve only got one chance so don’t lose focus. I mean it. One chance. Understand?”

“Aye,” they responded.

“Okay. Good. Everyone’s counting on each of you to stick to the plan. You can’t trust that those types out there won’t try to get in here if they circle back and find it blocked. If that happens you’ll be stuck without a way out.” He looked at Gracie again. “Put that on. That's the one I was wearing. It has some blood on it but not as much as the other. I’ll wear that one. So…sorry about that.”

“Adam,” said Gracie, almost too calm. Her gaze remained wide—and she didn’t blink much. She tried to hand Adam the gun and he shook his head.

“No,” he said. “You’ll need it. You have better aim than me, anyway—I’m sure of that.” He patted the waistband of his trousers where he’d stored Ivan’s blade. “I’ve got a knife here, in case I need to use it. I’m good with blades.”

“I know."

“Yeah. You do.”

“Adam.”

“I’ll go first,” he continued. “If everything keeps going fine when I’m out there I’ll knock on the door. That’s when you come out, Grace, with that mask on. Once I’m sure your mask is working I’ll keep on going around the bend to the staircase on the left. That’s where I’ll take my mask off, just for a little while. Those things can chase me and it'll leave a space for you guys to run.”

“Adam,” said Gracie, still calm.

“I’ll try to keep them away as long as I can. Count to ten when you see them coming for me before opening this door. You guys—” Adam gestured at the cluster of students. “You run fast and don’t look back. Take the stairs on the right side—take them straight down without stopping. There’s a side exit on the main floor if you keep heading straight. Takes you out to one of the gardens. Don’t…let the crowd knock you down.”

“What do we do when we get outside?” asked Gren.

“Find someplace to hide. Stay far away from the temple. Protect yourselves any way you can.” Adam concealed a grimace as he thought of everything that could go wrong. “Union will send a response. I bet they did already. Help is on the way—I’m sure of it.”

Fearful gazes continued to watch him in silence, desperate for direction. Adam seemed to be the only one who could keep it together enough to make a plan so that’s what he did.

“We just have to stay smart ‘til the cavalry arrives,” he said. “We’ll be back home before we know it. Aye?”

“Aye.” The group responded in unison, nodding.

“Are you going to meet us outside?” asked Dalia, wiping her eyes—she’d started crying the moment she spotted Adam and hadn’t said a word until that moment. “Are you coming too?”

“I have this mask so I've got to see if there’s anyone else I can help. If it’s too dangerous I’ll get out. Okay?” He offered Dalia—and the rest of them—a smile. “I’ll find you guys. Somehow.”

“Okay,” agreed Gren.

“Anyway. Come on. Let’s go.” Adam grabbed hold of the cabinet as Gren and another few of the seniors came over to assist. Gracie remained in their way and Adam addressed her again, firmly. “Grace—you have to move. Come on.” Her wide, unblinking gaze settled on him. “Stay with me,” he told her. “I’m counting on you. All right?”

She shifted aside once she heard the juniors join in calling her to move and she watched in silence as they pushed the cabinet out of the way. Adam pulled the mask back on over his head and the fabric was damp against his skin—moist with Ivan’s blood. He steeled his gaze as he watched Gracie pull the other mask on with a wince of pain, her curls disappearing under the dark textured cloth. Gray-green eyes met his as he rested his hand against the door.

The students watched as he slid the door open, easing himself through the opening. He slid it closed and as the office was shut an errant gunshot spooked him, making him jump. Moans of anguish hummed throughout the rotunda from every direction—some human, inhuman, or impossible to differentiate. A bleak silence permeated the space between cries, shrieks, and animalistic hisses. Faint pleas for mercy—please-please-please—Adam heard that too and much too often.

Adam waited by the door, calming himself as he inhaled the stench of copper. That smell might have come from the blood already inside the mask or from blood streaking every visible surface around him. He forced himself to focus, just as he’d told the others to do, and avoided setting his sights too long on the masses on the floor. The rotunda remained mostly dark save for random pulses of colored lights that flashed in pattern, a remnant of the party as it once was.

A few figures in costume shambled along the third level, one of which was a male who stumbled with a shattered leg dragging behind him. Adam watched the boy for a short while despite himself, listening to the steady pattern of step-drag-step-drag-step-drag, before finalizing a count of twenty parasites immediately in his vicinity. More were shambling tens of meters away close to the second bend but he’d worry about them when they came for him.

Adam was too far from the balcony to see what was happening below but he could tell from the noise that a bulk of the students who’d attended that night were still downstairs. In what state, he had no clue, or for how long they’d stay that way. He returned to the twin red doors and knocked in the same pattern Gracie used earlier. The doors slid apart. Adam watched Gracie’s lithe figure slip outside to join him at his side.

“Oh, God,” she uttered, holding onto him in shock as her head swerved back and forth to survey the damage. She gasped at the student dragging his leg, the boy already far past them headed for the stairs. “Oh God.”

Adam waited, watching the parasites amble by without noticing them, and nodded once he confirmed a lack of violent reaction to their presence. Gracie’s mask worked, increasing their odds for survival…somewhat. He hurried over to the balcony and kept low, standing next to a support column for cover, and peered down to the first floor. Too dark to see much of anything beyond the stage, Adam could still hear plenty of what was going on.

“Oh!” Gracie exclaimed loud and covered her mouth with her hand, ducking close to Adam. “Are those—?”

“People,” remarked Adam. “People onstage, wearing costumes. Students…like us. And there’s more guys in black guarding them—the ones that work for Jackal.”

“Hostages!” she gasped. “He’s got hostages! No!”

“Get back,” he said roughly, pushing her away back toward the bishop’s doors. “Now.”

Gracie lowered her head as they returned, a high sob escaping as she covered her face. Adam approached and touched her shoulder.

“Gracie,” he said.

“They’re going to kill them, Adam,” she said in a low, rushed tone. “They’re going to kill those hostages. Adam—they—”

“I see what’s going on,” he said. “There’s a lot happening right now. But remember—you have one job to do and you’re not a hostage. I’ll make them take me before I'd ever let them take you. Is that okay?”

“Adam,” she repeated.

“Grace. I need you to be here. Please.”

Please.

She wrapped her arms around him, squeezing tight as if she could force their bodies to meld into one so he wouldn’t leave. Adam heard her sniffle under the mask and knew she was crying. He figured it was hard for her to breathe with her injury, crying like that.

Adam rested his cheek on her head for a short moment—just a few seconds—and returned her embrace, allowing some of his own sorrow to surface. A heavy breath huffed from his chest as he eased her away.

“Ready?” he asked.

“No,” she replied.

“Well. You have to be. No other choice. That’s how things are.” He rested his hands on her shoulders. “You’re the daughter of Peace Commissioner Raymond Finnegan. You fire guns—for fun. I’ve never seen you afraid of anything. Who else can I trust? Hm?” He tapped her jaw to guide her attention back to him. “Nobody. You’re it. You’ll do this and you’ll do it right. Just shoot at anything that treats you wrong on your way out. No hesitation.”

Gracie wrenched up the bottom of his mask too fast for him to stop and he felt the rush of air against his face when he was exposed. Her parched lips pressed hard against his and he responded in kind, wild with a desperation that he tried to suffocate inside of her kiss. He tasted her briefly with fury before shoving her away, lowering the mask back over his face.

“Don’t fucking die,” spat Gracie, her words muffled when she placed her own mask back into place. “Don’t fucking die, you sack of shit. I mean it. Don’t die.”

“Wasn’t planning on it.”

“I’m not finished with you. Not even close. We’ve got business to settle, Pendergast.”

“Yeah, yeah. Catch you later, all right?”

“Yeah.” She paused by the door, watching him leave. “Later.”

He signaled for her to wait and made sure she was ready before facing the parasites ahead, pulling the knife from his belt. Under the flickering, malfunctioning lights he spotted shadows moving in front of him, groaning with undead hunger, the visages shambling in search of food. He paused on the way to the corner staircase, heart thudding as he confirmed the parasites still remained oblivious to him. Alone again, far from Gracie, the distance between them was increasing by the second. If he continued a few meters more he’d be completely out of sight.

More undead students appeared from the dark of the third floor. The number surrounding him numbered forty or more.

“Fuck,” he uttered.

The faint sound of a door opening in the distance—or maybe he imagined the sound—propelled him to move faster than anticipated. He clattered down until he was halfway between the third and second floor, suspended between death above and below, and slipped off his mask to expose his head, waiting for the avalanche.

A pair of seconds passed with him panting in air soaked with blood before he heard a snarl of response to his vulnerability and whipped his head around, spotting bodies now scrambling toward him. He rose from his crouch and raced down the stairs, freezing when he heard a shrill hiss in front of him.

Eyes widened as more figures clamored up from the second floor, incensed by his exposure, surrounding him on the staircase from both sides, clamoring for him and grasping until he yanked the mask back over his head, shock searing his veins as he grabbed hold of the cover. Blinded by fabric, he shifted the mask into place, adjusting the eyeholes to see, and a mass appeared in front of him—a shadow. He reacted, leaping up and slashing at it before shoving it back down the stairs into the crowd now crowding the space.

His focus settled on a girl falling before him in a tattered gown, half her face blown apart by point-blank high caliber gunfire, the other half gashed open by his strike. He found that he’d stopped breathing sometime during the interaction and guarded his head, the flurry of activity around him halting as his presence was forgotten.

Flickering lights met Adam as he scanned where he was and what was there, finding more impediments blocking him from all sides. He grabbed onto the staircase’s railing and watched the creatures—his former peers—fall over themselves in search of other food as he eased himself through the mutated bodies.

The rotunda seemed endless, a nightmarish maze without end, if there was even was a possible end to their hell. Adam took another moment to calm his nerves, shutting his eyes for a slow second, before pressing on and continuing his search for more survivors.

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