“Hey, what’s wrong?” Mark asked.
Alec took another laboring step forward. “I’m sick, Mark. I’m really, really sick. I need to die. I need to die and I don’t wanna die for nothing.”
CHAPTER 63
Mark couldn’t remember ever having been at such a loss for words.
Alec slouched to the ground, falling to one knee. “I’m serious, boy. I’ve been feeling funny, my mind playing tricks. Seeing things, feeling things. I’m feeling a little bit better right now, but I don’t want to be like those people. I need to die, and I don’t wanna wait till morning.”
“What … Why …” Mark stammered for the right thing to say. It’d been inevitable that this would happen, but it still shocked him to the core. “What do you want me to do?”
The man shot him a glare. “I’ve thought it—”
He spasmed, suddenly contorting into an unnatural shape, his head thrown back, his face twisted in pain. A strangled, choked cry escaped his throat.
“Alec!” Mark shouted, running up to him. He had to duck when the man suddenly swung a fist. Alec fell to the floor. “What’s wrong?”
The old man’s body relaxed and he got on his hands and knees, laboring heavily to breathe. “I … I just … I don’t know. Weird things are knocking around my noggin.”
Mark ran his hands through his hair, looking around in anguish, as if some magical answer to all their problems might appear in a dark corner of the cargo room. When he turned back to Alec, the man had stood, holding his hands up as if surrendering.
“Listen to me,” Alec said. “I’ve got ideas. Things are bleak, no doubt. But …” He pointed in the direction of the barracks where Trina and Deedee were sleeping. “We have a precious little girl in there who can be saved. If nothing else. We need to get her to Asheville, drop her off. Then …”
He shrugged, a pathetic gesture that said all too much. It was over for the rest of them.
“A treatment—a cure,” Mark said, hearing the defiance in his voice. “That Bruce guy thought there might be one. We need to go there for that, too, and—”
“Oh, horse crap,” Alec barked, cutting him off. “Just listen to me before I can’t talk straight anymore. I’m the only one who can fly this thing. I want you to come to the cockpit and watch me, learn as much as that head of yours can handle. Just in case. You’re right—we’re taking that girl to Asheville if it’s the last thing I do.”
A suffocating, dark feeling enveloped Mark. He’d be crazy or dead soon. But Alec’s idea was much like his, and the only thing he could think to do was take action.
“Then let’s go,” he said, fighting back the sudden sting of tears. “Let’s not waste one more second.”
Alec twitched and his arms jerked outward, but then he clenched his fists and brought them back down, his face strained as if he’d fought off another attack with willpower alone. Clarity filled his eyes and he looked at Mark for a long moment. It was as if all of the past year—the memories, the horrors, even the laughs—passed quickly between them, and Mark wondered if either of them would ever be so grounded again. Madness waited in the wings.
The soldier gave a quick nod, and the two of them headed for the door.
*
They reached the cockpit without seeing any sign of Trina or Deedee. Mark had hoped they’d be awake—maybe by some miracle Trina would be better, laughing, remembering. It was a foolish thought.
As Alec got to work on the controls, Mark looked outside. A trace of dawn had brightened the eastern sky, the darkness fading into light purple over the houses and trees in the distance. Most of the stars had winked out; the sun would make its grand entrance within the hour. He had a heavy feeling that the day would end with everything changed forever.
“I’m okay for a bit,” Alec said, standing back to scan the instruments and screens of the control panel. “Why don’t you go check on the girls. We’ll be off the ground in a jiffy. We’ll do some flyovers and see what we see.”
Mark nodded and patted him on the back, a ridiculous gesture but all he could think of to do. He was worried about his friend. He turned on his flashlight and left the cockpit, entering the short passage that led to the barracks room where he’d left Trina, resting peacefully in a bunk with Deedee.
Mark was almost to the door of the barracks when he heard a strange scratching noise above him, like rats scurrying across the panels of the ceiling. Then there was the distinct sound of a man giggling, only feet over his head. A shudder of horror passed through him. He ran a few steps down the hall and spun around, pressing his back against the wall. He looked up at the ceiling, shining the flashlight over the panels, but saw nothing out of the ordinary.
He held his breath and listened.
Something was up there, moving back and forth, almost rhythmically.
“Hey!” Mark shouted. “Who …” His question died when he realized he hadn’t checked on Trina yet. If someone, or something, had snuck its way onto the Berg …
He ran to the barracks door and flung it open, frantically shining his light on the bunk where he’d last seen Trina sleeping. For one split second his heart stalled—the bunk was empty. It was just rumpled sheets and a blanket. Then, out of the corner of his eye, he saw Trina on the floor, Deedee sitting right next to her. They were holding hands, and both of them had sheer terror on their faces.
“What?” Mark asked. “What happened?”