Mira Grant - Symbiont

Nathan glanced my way. I offered him a small, slightly apologetic smile. Explaining my thoughts would have taken too much time and involved too much talking, and neither was a good idea right now.

“Nathan.” Fishy’s voice was low but it carried well, holding an authority that made both of us turn to see what he wanted. He shoved Dr. Banks back toward me. The man who used to represent my greatest fears took a few stuttering steps in my direction before stopping and turning back to Fishy, a scowl on his face.

“Now you see here—” he began.

Fishy raising his rifle and leveling it on his face made Dr. Banks stop midsentence. He took another step backward, toward me, and stepped in Beverly’s much-valued patch of seagull poop. She made an irritated snorting noise. “Sal, you’ve got babysitting duty. Nathan, I know you have a handgun. I need you in the ferry launch with me. We have to check the boats for seaworthiness, and that’s going to be faster if we’re not dealing with the baggage.”

“Gonna pretend you didn’t just implicitly lump me and my dog into ‘the baggage,’” I said blandly.

Fishy’s shrug was unapologetic. “Sorry, Sal. Them’s the breaks. Well, Nate? Come on, boy, the sooner we launch this boat, the sooner we can get you back to mama.”

“We’re not launching anything until everyone is on board,” said Nathan. He hadn’t budged, and his hands were balled at his sides, clearly telegraphing his unhappiness with Fishy. “You understand that, right? We’re all going to San Francisco.”

“I got it,” said Fishy. “Are we going to stand out here arguing about shit, or are we going to get shit done, son?”

Nathan frowned before turning to look at me. “Can you handle keeping an eye on him while we check the boat?”

I nodded. “I’ll be fine. If he tries anything inappropriate, I’ll push him into the water. That’ll teach him.”

“Don’t push me into anything,” said Dr. Banks.

“Sal, if any sleepwalkers come…” said Nathan, ignoring Dr. Banks entirely. I wished I had the same option.

Forcing a smile, I said, “I’ll scream. Now go.”

“All right.” Nathan kissed my forehead before pulling the handgun out of his jacket and turning to Fishy. “Lead the way.”

I didn’t like Fishy’s grin. I didn’t like it one bit. But we didn’t have another option, and so I didn’t say anything; I just stood there, Beverly’s leash in one hand, and watched as the two of them slipped into the building that housed the entrance to the ferry.

Dr. Banks waited until they were gone before he turned to me, expression going imperious, and said, “Untie my hands.”

“No, I don’t think so,” I said. “I mean, thank you for asking nicely? But that wouldn’t be in my best interests.”

“I’m defenseless,” he said. “Are you trying to get me killed? Untie my hands.”

“I’m not trying to get you killed, but I’m also not sure why you think I’d be upset if something happened to you.” The drums were finally back, beating their old familiar tattoo inside my veins. I didn’t have time to be relieved about their return. I was too busy trying not to let Dr. Banks see how nervous I was about standing here alone with him, with no one to save me if he decided to rush for me. I was much smaller than he was, and my only weapon was a dog who was much more interested in sniffing the dock than she was in keeping an eye on him.

“This is unreasonable,” he said. “You’re being unreasonable. Untie my hands.”

“No matter how many times you tell me to do something I don’t want to do, I’m not going to do it.”

“Won’t you?” His expression turned conciliatory like he was flipping a switch, eyes suddenly filled with parental concern. “Sally, I know you don’t want to treat me like this. You know I’ve always, always been on your side. Maybe I’m the only person who’s always been on your side. Why don’t you help me? Let me go?”

“I’m not going to let you go.” The drums were pounding harder. My hands were starting to shake. I balled them both into fists, clutching Beverly’s leash until the leather was biting into my palm. They wouldn’t stop shaking . “Stop asking me.”

“I’m not asking you.”

The drums were pounding harder than ever, and my hands wouldn’t stop shaking.

“I’m asking Sally.”

It was getting hard to focus on him—to focus on anything beyond the urge to turn and run away, fleeing into the city. Vallejo might be filled with sleepwalkers and armed survivors, but no one there would try to find the strings connecting my psyche to itself and pull on them. No one there would even know how to start.

“I know she can hear me.”

“ SHUT UP! ” I hadn’t intended to scream. It felt like the words were ripped out of me, louder than I could have imagined them being. They bounced off the buildings and boats around us, fading into the distance. Dr. Banks stared at me, too startled to continue cajoling me to remove his bonds.

The back of my brain felt like it was fizzing. I shunted the feeling to the side, taking a step toward him, so that there was barely any space left between us. Dr. Banks shied back. I reached out and grabbed the front of his shirt, pulling him closer still.

“I am the one who owns and operates this establishment, Dr. Banks, and while I appreciate that you may have some designs on the old owner, she’s not coming back,” I spat. “This body is under new management. My management. I am the only one who decides what I do—not you, not Dr. Cale, and not the ghost of Sally Mitchell. She died, I lived, and you don’t get to call her back because you’ve decided that she’d be more convenient. Do you understand me? She’s not. Coming. Back.”

“I understand you perfectly,” he said. His voice was quavering, just a little—just enough to make me believe that he was listening. Good. He needed to listen.

The fizzing feeling in the back of my mind was getting harder to ignore. I paused, tilting my head down as I tried to focus. As soon as I paid attention to it, it snapped into perfect clarity. My eyes widened as my head swung back up, giving me just a second of staring into Dr. Banks’s terrified eyes.

“Sleepwalkers,” I whispered, and turned to bolt for the ferry launch, his shirt still clutched in my hand. He stumbled to keep up, while Beverly ran ahead, pulling her leash to its absolute limit. I didn’t dare let her go. She might have gone to find Nathan, or she might have doubled back and gone for the hated sleepwalkers, which needed to be destroyed if we were going to ever be safe. She was a good dog. She would protect us if she could, which made it all the more important that I make sure I kept protecting her.

The door was unlocked, and still slightly ajar from where Fishy and Nathan had slipped inside. I hip-checked it open, shoving Dr. Banks through, and paused only long enough to turn and close the door firmly behind me. It wouldn’t slow them down for more than a few minutes if the sleepwalkers knew that we were inside the building: they couldn’t manage doorknobs or anything complicated like that, but they were very good at smashing things, and from the way my head was fizzing, there were at least a dozen on their way to us, maybe more. These were the ones who had managed to eat and survive in an abandoned city. They would be weak and maybe even wounded. They would also be desperate.

The urge to survive is a powerful thing. It can drive even the most primitive of organisms to do things that should have been impossible, because they don’t want to die. If there was any way for the sleepwalkers to get into the ferry launch, they would do it.

Dr. Banks was still standing a few feet away, looking stunned and uneasy. I grabbed his elbow before he could move, pulling him with me deeper into the building. “Come on, we need to find the others,” I said, and for once, he didn’t argue.