Carrion (The Bren Watts Diaries #1)

Chapter 35

We only encountered two dozen vectors wandering around the street. When a military helicopter would fly past, they would chase after it as if they could jump a thousand or so feet into the air. A few would stay and slowly amble about, but it was easy to sneak around them.

I picked up the pace, not wanting to get caught out in the open once dawn arrived. Out of my hiding space behind an overturned taxi cab, we ran to the other side of the street. Logan ran across next, followed by Luke and Miguel. I got to thank Bobby for that small brain of his. He had been whining about his boss's boat for the past three days. We wouldn't have known about it if he just shut the fuck up.

As I passed a building, an old white-haired woman looked out of her window from a bakery shop. At first glance, I had thought she was a vector, but when she saw me, she quickly reeled back, drawing the curtains to a close. I was tempted to go after her, but she came out a second later, brandishing a cleaver, telling me to get out of her sight. I didn't hear the words per se since she's behind the glass, but the rude gestures she made painted a clear picture. The others and I didn't need more convincing.

I saw the short bus first, parked in front of a luxurious apartment complex situated close to some pretentious art museum about fashion design. Cromwell Academy and New York City School District were written on the side of the bus.

"That's the bus," I whispered to the others.

"Damn," Miguel said, looking up. "We're going up through that?"

The building was thirty stories high, maybe more. Some of its windows were shattered, its facade mostly shrouded in the dark, lifeless. There were balconies on the corners, more extensive than my own house back in Portland, and I could even make out the figures of dead bodies dangling over the railing. I expected there might be plenty of vectors waiting inside.

"What did Bobby say his boss's apartment was?" I asked.

"The twentieth? Or was it the twenty-first?" Logan answered.

I turned to the others. They didn't remember as well. Bobby failed to mention the apartment number of his boss that we had to figure out for ourselves, unfortunately.

"Fine. We'll go check those two floors."

"It'll be faster if we split up," Miguel said.

I looked over the weapons we had with us. Miguel raised the cathedral's candlestick on his shoulder. It was the only weapon heavy enough to do massive damage at the last minute, at least twenty inches of brass and pure silver. Luke had kitchen knives duct-taped at both ends on a heavy-duty extension pole, and Logan had his fire-ax. I, however, only had my shotgun and the Smith & Wesson tactical knife that came issued with the police bag.

"But we'll still be outgunned. They have the firepower," Luke said.

"We can ambush them," Miguel said. "If the bus is still here, they're still up there."

I shuddered. There were too many variables at play. Should we go up, or should we stay down the lobby? Since we didn't even know where they went up, we might miss them. "Let's check out the bus first," I said, finally.

No one was inside the bus, noticing that they left the keys on the ignition.

I rolled my eyes. Can they ever be more ridiculous? I took the keys out of the slot, dangled it in front of everyone, and had a little chuckle. Even if they managed to slip through our fingers, they wouldn't be able to move anywhere. I saw their bags at the back, hopeful that they were stupid enough to leave their weapons, too.

No such luck. They brought the weapons with them. But they did leave the food.

"Ambush it is," I said.