Carrion (The Bren Watts Diaries #1)

Chapter 85

LOGAN

"I can't get it to open," Alfie said, prying at the window's handle, but it wouldn't turn. Logan pushed Alfie away and tried it for himself, grasping the handle, thinking if he pulled hard, it would be unbounded from its sticky hinges. Instead, he yanked it off.

"Fuck!" Logan exclaimed.

"Well done, genius," Pete grumbled. He whirled around and faced the door. The footsteps were fast approaching. "Hide."

Logan dashed toward a stall to his right as Alfie went to the opposite door, carefully closing the door behind them. Logan stood on top of the toilet seat, realized he was too tall, his head and shoulders sticking out, and so he had to lean forward and crouched down to stay hidden. That only made his knees a little wobbly; the toilet seat made a groaning noise.

"Please stay still. Please stay still," he muttered.

It was apparent to him that none of the vectors had done the trap, luring them up to the second floor, forcing them to explore the halls and to find their way out. If it were, then it would be the children, what Bren called the honchos, who had done it. Logan had never seen them trap anybody before, and he hardly saw them together. Honchos didn't form their own Children of the Corn together. One honcho usually surrounded themselves with a mindless horde and became its sadistic ring leader, left to their whims. Despite his past encounters, Logan knew little of vector behavior, and he shuddered to imagine if they had evolved to such intelligence. Bren was the science guy, so he probably had more answers than him. Vectors that could lure and trap you? Fuck that. If it were people, well, they were just as worse as vectors as they could do efficient planning and coordination for an attack. Logan had thrown punches before, but enough to kill? Logan shook when he thought about taking another person's life. Would he have it in him?

Pete was still standing in the middle of the bathroom, and Logan didn't hear one of the stall doors opening and closing.

What are you doing? Logan thought. He assumed the man froze, got scared off, or something, so he cracked the door open. Pete was nowhere in sight. Had he gone through one of the stalls without hearing him? Pete was a bigger dude than him, heavier and burly, and he should be making at least some noise, and he could even hear Alfie shifting on his weight as he stood on the toilet seat.

Logan grimaced. Christ, we're doing a poor job hiding.

The footsteps stopped right in front of the door, the crackle of a CB radio resounded through the echoing silence. Logan heard a man behind the wall.

"I'm here," he said.

"Anything?" Another man from the other line asked.

"Door's closed."

"Alright. I'll send Bast to you. Keep an eye on the door."

"It might be a freak."

"Hold tight."

"I can kill a freak. I'm going in."

"Christ, you listen to me, boy, don't you—"

The door opened, and the rifle's barrel poked in through the small gap.

Logan was about to close his stall door, realized it was too late for him to hop back onto the toilet seat. It would make noise, and he cursed himself for stepping off of it. He crouched there, transfixed as the man slowly come into the bathroom, praying that he wouldn't spot him. His stall was at the very back of the row, after all. He readied his sledge-eye maul, already suspecting that the man would check every stall. When he reached his stall, he would bludgeon him to death with the sledgehammer end of his weapon. Logan nodded, repeating his plan in his head. He had the advantage of surprise, though there was a risk that the man would fire his rifle in time. All he had to do was dodge at the right time, hoping luck was on his side.