Plague

Hunter, eating him alive.”
    Suddenly Albert jerked. Like someone had stuck a pin in him. “I forgot. I was busy . . . I was . . .” His eyes were fearful. “Roscoe. Roscoe was bitten by one of those things in Hunter. He told me, I didn’t think that . . .” He looked at Astrid. “When Hunter was delivering his kills. Roscoe said something under Hunter’s shirt bit him. I just forgot.”
    From outside there came the sound of a bellowing, anguished roar. Then the sound of smashing glass.
    “Orc,” Howard said.
    “See if you can find him, talk to him,” Edilio said. But Howard was already on his way out the door.
    No one spoke for a few minutes. They heard another smash, more like metal this time.
    Edilio used the silence to think. Orc drunk and on a rampage. Well, it wasn’t the first time, but it was bad. Orc had become an asset lately. If he was back to being a danger again then that was very bad news. More likely it was just temporary and Howard would get him under control.
    The Roscoe thing was bad. Very bad. Edilio knew what he should do. And he didn’t like it.
    As for Drake, well, that was the real problem, that and the water.
    Edilio had some help, some soldiers, some pretty good, some pretty useless. He had Brianna.
    Could Brianna take on Drake?
    “What will Drake do?” Edilio asked.
    “He’s not just Drake,” Astrid said. “Remember, he’s Brittney, too. That makes it hard for him. If he makes some plan, she can unmake it when she takes over. If he tries to sneak up on anyone, he has to worry that she’ll emerge and screw it up.”
    “Yeah,” Albert said, brightening. “Yeah, that’s right. It’s not Drake, it’s Drake slash Brittney.”
    “If we get a chance at Brittney, we could tie her up, lock her up,” Edilio said. “Yeah. If Brianna finds him we have her follow him, watch, and let us know when Brittney comes out.”
    “That’s a plan,” Albert said, obviously relieved. “So we let Sam keep going.”
    Edilio nodded. “For now. But Taylor, we may still need—”
    Taylor was no longer in the room.

Chapter Twelve
48 HOURS, 54 MINUTES

    SO VERY, VERY sweet to be out of that basement. To be breathing fresh air.
    Drake stuck close to the shadows of burned-out houses so the fresh air smelled of ash and charcoal and melted plastic. But it was better than the mildew and dust in the basement.
    Drake had a list in his head. Sam. Caine. Dekka. Brianna. They would die first. As quickly as Drake could kill them.
    That had been his big mistake with Sam at the power plant. He had taken his time to enjoy whipping him. Even now the memory of it sent a shudder of sheer pleasure through Drake’s body.
    But he had taken too long killing Sam and then Brianna had showed up.
    Not this time. This time he would start by killing Sam. Then, if he could find him, Caine.
    That was the thing with the powerful freaks, you had to kill them quick. You had to strike with speed and surprise.
    Sam. Caine. Dekka. Brianna. Orc and Taylor, too.
    And then, with them gone, he could take his sweet time with Astrid. And even longer with Diana.
    Drake laughed out loud.
    Jamal said, “What’s so funny?”
    “I’m Santa Claus, Jamal. Making a list, checking it twice.”
    Jamal stayed a few steps behind him. Toting his big automatic rifle in his one good arm. The other arm in a makeshift sling. Scared out of his mind, no doubt. Still feeling the burn of Drake’s whip. Oh, yes, he would feel that for quite some time.
    “Where is Sam staying?” Drake asked Jamal.
    “Albert sent him off to look for something out in the woods or whatever. Out there.” Jamal gestured vaguely. “I wasn’t supposed to know, but I heard.”
    Drake turned on Jamal. “What? Sam’s not here?” He’d missed out on a lot, being trapped like an animal.
    “He’ll be back in a couple days, I guess.”
    Drake cursed. “Where’s Caine, then?”
    “He’s on some island, like, where these rich dudes lived in the old days.”
    Worse and worse.
    No. No . . . Better and better.
    Drake grinned. Neither of the big powers was around to stop him. Change of plans.
    “Dekka?”
    Jamal shrugged. “I don’t know, man, I don’t follow that scary dyke around town.”
    “Now, now,” Drake chided mockingly. “We mustn’t diss people because of what they are.” He took Jamal’s face in his hand and squeezed. “I’m going to kill her but not because of what she is, right? I’m going to murder her because she has to be murdered. You