Page 7 of Blood We Steal

For what, though?

His smooth strides cleared up that confusion.

He was going to open the door.

But he couldn’t open the door because then that thing would be inside here.

I wanted to scream desperately, but couldn’t make the words. Rubin wouldn’t listen to me anyway. I recognized that expression on his face, the one that said the die had been cast, and all there was to do now was see it through.

I still couldn’t speak, but I searched the room. My eyes landed on a trophy. Intramural Baseball Championship from two years ago. I grabbed it and prayed it wasn’t one of those cheap discount awards. It had some heft to it, so I hoped that meant something. I decided it didn’t matter. It wasn’t like I could do anything with it. But still, it felt better in my hand, the cool metal slick against my palm, the sharp corner of the marble base menacing in its press against my fingers.

“Stay there,” Rubin said.

My mouth hanging open, I gripped the trophy tighter as he pulled the door open. The man, thing, whatever that had been slamming into the door, fell into the warden’s office in an ungraceful heap. Its pale blue button-down was soaked pink with what I didn’t doubt was blood.

I yelped when the thing shifted, and for a split second, it met my eyes.

Dead.

That thought was back in full force as I watched the thing move. It put one hand down against the carpet, reminding me of how I’d been moments ago, but it was awkward, ungainly.

Still, where I’d been frozen, this thing wasn’t. It was slow, uncoordinated, but determined, and had Rubin in its sights as it stood.

Rubin returned the favor and when the thing lunged at him, he brought the base of the flagpole down hard on its back.

I heard the crack, which had to be bone, saw the thing’s arm collapse. Saw that the pain of a freshly broken scapula had absolutely no effect at all. The thing still clawed toward Rubin, determined to get him.

I saw Rubin from my periphery, seeing that same set expression and maybe just a hint of surprise. He swung the pole again, harder this time, directly into the center of the man’s back. It should have knocked the air out of its lungs.

It didn’t, and it was then I noticed not once had I seen the rise and fall of its chest.

I only heard a sickening sound. An inhuman sound. The thing clawed at the ground trying to get to Rubin. And the sound changed, becoming almost guttural. It flooded me with fear so acute, this must have been a dream.

Rubin kicked the thing; it gave no reaction, but as I watched, an insane idea demanded I voice it.

“The head, Rubin. Get its brain.”

That sound rang out again before Rubin could speak. A sound that stopped abruptly when Rubin slammed the base of the flagpole against its head. There was a dull thud, and the man’s skull caved in. It collapsed into a heap, red-black goo pooling around its head.

Rubin stepped back from the spreading pool, mindful of his shoes, and then looked at me.

“Stay close,” he said. His eyes dared me to contradict him, and part of me wanted to. But I couldn’t. Because even though Rubin looked at me like waste he would relish disposing of, the alternatives…there were none.

He stepped closer to the door, and I stared at him, hoping I was wrong about his intentions, but knowing that I wasn’t.

We couldn’t go out there.

I couldn’t go out there. I looked up, and Rubin was generous enough to spare me a glance. “I won’t repeat myself.”

The irony of my predicament wasn’t lost on me, nor was the weight of my choice. And then Rubin moved, leaving me with a choice that was no choice at all.

I swallowed, gripping the trophy tighter, and then stepped into the hall.

FOUR

Rubin

Ididn’t have to look back to know that Simone was behind me. Her occasional whimper was proof enough. The sound was nearly silent in the pandemonium that had clearly broken out in the jail, but I heard it nonetheless.