Outcasts by Alan Janney Read Free Book Online Page A

beating.
    He said, “Even worse, a large force of Hyper Terrorists broke through the military’s barricade fifteen minutes ago. Chosen. We’re trying to track them, but they’re fast. My guess is they are coming here. Soon”
    I woke up in a hurry. Coming here. That meant the Chemist discovered my name. Tank must have told him. And my address. And now his Chosen were on the way.
    Last autumn, the Chemist threatened to kill Katie in front of me. “I’ll pack. You get Katie. The Chemist could have used my address to figure out hers.”
    He pushed me inside and towards the stairs. “I have an agent banging on her door this second, and a helicopter on the way. Let’s go, Outlaw, get your gear.”
    I sprinted up the steps, my focus growing laser-sharp. I needed to alert Samantha. And Dad. Puck must be asleep. I yelled over my shoulder, “Call Shooter! Get her to Katie’s place.”
    “Already done. She’s on her way.”
    “How’d the Chemist get to Tank?
    “Bribery, most likely, and three dead guards. Haven’t had a chance to investigate.”
    I located my duffle-bag beneath a pile of clutter and started throwing clothes and Outlaw gear into it. Anderson inspected my bedroom with interest.
    I asked, “Where did Tank go, any guesses?”
    “Cameras caught him diving into the Los Angeles Harbor and swimming out to sea.”
    “You’ll never get him. He could probably swim to Hawaii.”
    “He’ll have a hard time hiding. Too big.”
    I froze. Something was…here. I felt it. Smelled it. My skin crawled. The disease inside flared to live, like a dog’s hackles rising.
    A kid about my age stood in the bedroom doorway, wearing a red windbreaker, jeans, sneakers. He pointed a gun at Special Agent Isaac Anderson’s back.
    I knew him. In my mind his name was Baby Face. He and I’d met once, six months ago, on the rooftop of Hollywood Presbyterian Medical. He was Infected, in the employ of my enemy.
    His eyes were wide and wild, fixed on me. The gun in his hands shook, and his breath came fast and ragged. He didn’t have the mental strength for violence.
    “Hey kid,” I said. My heart had jumpstarted to a thousand beats per minute. I wanted to help him. I wanted to kill him.
    Isaac turned, startled. His hand dropped to the pistol on his belt.
    “Don’t,” I warned. “He’s faster than you. A lot faster.”
    Baby Face thumbed back his pistol’s hammer. We didn’t move. My body had begun swelling. Pants and shirt growing smaller. In another twenty seconds, his bullets would no longer matter. Fury and urgency were hurricanes inside my skull.
    I said, “You don’t want to do this.”
    He closed his mouth and pressed his lips into a hard line.
    I continued, “I’m leaving. Someone important to me is about to be killed or taken. So I’m going.”
    He shook his head and tried to speak.
    I said, “I want you to come with us. We need you. And you need us.”
    “Outlaw,” he panted. He was sweating, close to tears, battling the same madness as me.
    “You don’t need him,” I said. “You belong with me.”
    “They’re coming,” he whispered.
    “Who?”
    “All of them.”
    Anderson grunted under his breath, “Oh Christ.”
    I said, “You’re better than them, kid. Come with me.”
    He shook his head and lowered the gun. “Go. Go now, Outlaw. Someone has to stop him.”
    “We need your help. You’re with us,” I said. I pulled the duffle bag strap over my shoulder and picked up the heavy Thunder Stick.
    “Run,” he said. “And remember me.”
    Below us, on the first floor, windows shattered. Howls of insanity throttled through hallways.
    Anderson snapped a radio to his mouth and shouted, “Enemy on the premises! Requesting air support!”
    We egressed onto the rooftop. The Chosen came like a deranged tsunami, sprinting backyards. Hundreds, still thin from their months in a coma, wearing rags, moving faster than humanly possible. They ran in frenzy, trampling the fallen, vaulting cars,