Page 65 of Tracking the Alpha
“I think the word you’re looking for is killing,” Slater bluntly stated. “Most will see us as mutants. A danger to society.”
“Are they wrong?” Radley quietly stated.
“I wouldn’t hurt anyone unless they deserved it,” Idris insisted indignantly.
“Me either!” piped in Morton.
It was Barrett who pointed out the cold hard reality. “Radley’s got a point. After all, Wendell stated they couldn’t be sure if what they did to us was contagious. Not to mention, we still don’t know why some of the patients turn rabid.”
A prime example? Zendaya. Three days into their trip, she snapped out of her walking, comatose state. Barrett had hoped that being free—and in her human body—would help her to recover. Instead, as they were walking, she suddenly threw herself at Freya and tried to rip out her throat. When Idris pulled her off Freya, poor crazed Zendaya bolted—and ran right off a cliff. They’d all stood at its edge and stared in silence at her broken body lying at the bottom of the gully. Phoenix and Freya kept watch for hours in case she suddenly healed by turning into a wolf that would come after them. They didn’t relax their vigilance until the scavengers came along and proved she was truly dead.
Zendaya wasn’t the only one to suddenly snap. It came out of nowhere with Lawrence. He’d not been super talkative, but he’d seemed all right considering. In his case, he didn’t try to kill anyone, just quietly hung himself.
Would that be the fate of them all? Utter despair or bloodthirsty violence?
The not knowing—and fear he could be contagious—led to Barrett distancing himself from Tanis, despite the fact he wanted her more than ever. They’d only had that one magical night together, and yet he dreamed of her every time he closed his eyes. Wanted to taste her so bad, he kept biting his tongue, using pain to distract.
Tanis had to have noticed the way he avoided being alone with her—easy to do in a group their size—but she said and did nothing about it until they actually reached civilization almost a week after their escape. Upon realizing they’d reached the outskirts of a small town, the group had to decide their next move because while Barrett wore a stained uniform and Tanis leggings and a sweater, Takhi and Idris, remained in their animal shape rather than end up naked, and everyone else still had on their hideous green scrubs, which would stick out like a sore thumb.
“We need clothes,” was the common consensus.
Obviously, yet how to buy any without money? Barrett’s sense of honor insisted good men didn’t steal.
Tanis had no such compunction.
As they walked into the town under the cover of darkness, she stated, “Any ideas on how we can get some quick cash?”
“I’m thinking maybe I can get a job that pays under the table.”
“Doing what?” she scoffed and before he could reply added, “Who do you think would hire us? We’ve not properly bathed and haven’t changed clothes in days. Not to mention, do you really want anyone seeing you in that uniform?”
“Probably not.” His lips turned down. “What do you suggest then?” he growled, feeling the weight of frustration and expectation on his shoulders.
Without a word, she veered into the front walkway for a clapboard house and headed around to the back.
“What are you doing?” he asked as he trotted to catch up, only to find her peeking in windows.
“This house has no lights on so I’m checking to make sure no one’s home.”
“Why?”
She showed him, smashing the pane of the window inset above the handle for a door. It took but a second to unlock and let herself in.
“We’re not thieves,” he hissed, following her inside.
“No, we’re not, but we are desperate. I’m not planning to rob the place blind. I’m going to shower, hopefully wash my stuff, grab a few articles of clothing for the others, and maybe take one thing of value we can pawn.”
“These folks aren’t rich,” he remarked, glancing around at the well-worn cupboards and kitchen furniture.
“I’m aware but don’t really have any other option. Make note of their address and you can send them some money later to assuage your conscience. Right now, as beggars on the run, we can’t be choosers.”
He hated she had a point.
She pointed to a calendar by the fridge. “Looks like the owners are out of town.”
“Until when? We don’t know what day it is,” he reminded.
“It’s Saturday,” she murmured. “I’ve been keeping track.”
