Carrion (The Bren Watts Diaries #1)

Chapter 42

"There!" Logan roared and dragged me to a city bus with its front sticking out to the sidewalk, pointing toward the park's slope.

One vector with nothing but boxer shorts and a white bloodied shirt sprinted toward us, but Logan quickly shot him on the shoulder and the head, bringing him down.

I stopped and waited for the others by the door, waving at them to hurry up. Luke was the last one in, and I quickly jumped inside right before the horde reached my spot. Miguel closed the door.

I felt a firm grip on my collar, turning me around, and hand slapped me across the face.

Aria stood before me, screaming, "You brought us here! You brought us here to die! Fuck you, Bren! We shouldn't have listened to you!"

She slapped me again. I didn't know why I didn't hold my hand up. I let it sting. I let the knot in my chest tightened.

"That's enough!" Logan bellowed, breaking us apart. "That's enough, Aria."

"You know I'm right. We should have gone to Central Park, where the real help is! Not this! Now, we're trapped because one guy can't take a hit on his ego?"

"My what?" I began, but Logan held me back, shaking his head, not wanting me to argue.

"Yes. Your ego. You don't want to be told you were wrong, and you desperately wanted us to follow you around. We're going to die here!"

"I said that's enough, Aria!" Logan yelled again.

I looked at the others. They were quiet, silently staring out of the bus's windows as the vectors hammered and snarled, their eyes filled with a hunger for our blood. I heard Henry whimpered next to Miguel, who pressed a comforting arm around the boy while Yousef curled into a ball at the back, shaking while Luke tried to reassure his friend. Felipe and Margot hugged each other, and Felipe said something in French out of earshot, which made her smile, and sweetly kissed his hand.

Had I led them here all because I had a hunch? All because I was afraid of something that might not be there? I wanted to cry, but I couldn't find the tears, which only made it worse.

No.

Not this.

This couldn't be it.

I refused to die like this, not when safety was next door, right out on the dock.

I pulled out the boat keys. On the key chain, it said its name: AMERICANA BEAUTY.

Our lifeline.

I traipsed toward the front of the bus, pushing past Logan and Aria. The keys were still in the ignition. The rotting remains of the bus driver were on the sidewalk, blocked from view as the vectors crowded around the vehicle and looked out of the windshield.

Like science, if something went wrong with an experiment, adapt, and forge through. I tried to channel Gregor Mendel, one of my favorite biologists, trying to get into his mind space as he looked for patterns, something that I could use, or Rachel Carson's perseverance and persistence not to give up. There was always a way out of a situation, even in the most unlikely of places.

And I found it.

Connected to the yacht club was a mason brick wall, flanking a chain-linked gate leading toward the dock. It was where the owners could lower their boats down on the ramps and into the water. I followed down where the wall connected to next, found it attached to another, albeit smaller building of souvenir shops, cafes, and river cruise lines based on the signs emblazoned over their doors. South of that was the river walk platform itself, devoid of any human life.