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  Clank-clank-clank.

  “You called?” Paul said through the grate. Adam jumped so violently that he dropped the pipe. He looked about, eyes wild, trying to locate the source of the voice.

  Paul started to laugh. He couldn’t help it. He was giddy with relief at finding Adam. It meant that they could soon go back, and get out of this awful place. “Down here,” he said.

  Adam found him at last, and scowled. Paul remembered how he hated to be laughed at, and fought to compose himself, but that only made it worse.

  “You should see your face,” he said, and cracked up.

  And then Adam began to chuckle, too, and then to laugh, and then he put a finger over his lips and shushed Paul, even though it was Adam himself who was making the most noise. They laughed at each other in silence, their shoulders shaking with suppressed mirth.

  “You scared the piss out of me,” Adam chortled, wiping his eyes.

  God, it was good to laugh. “You stuck in there?” Paul asked.

  “I wouldn’t have been banging on that bloody pipe for half an hour if I wasn’t,” he said, rolling his aching shoulder. “Found your janitor, by the way. Jumped out at me.” He picked up the pipe again and swung it in the air. “Soon wished he hadn’t.”

  Paul grinned. “You’re not scratched? Bitten?”

  “Nah. Ran too fast. At first it was like there were hardly any Infected around, then suddenly they started coming out of everywhere.” He motioned toward the metal door. “There was a key sticking out of the door on the outside, so I nicked it and hid in here, locked it from the inside. I think they saw me, but once they’d tried the door a few times, they just left it alone. They’re still out there — I hear ’em moving around. But it’s like they’re not bothered about me as long as I stay put. Like I’m not worth the effort.” He scratched his jaw. “Kind of insulting, when you think about it.”

  Paul put his fingers through the bars and gave the grate a shove. It didn’t move.

  “Tried that,” said Adam. “It’s bolted right into the wall, and I can’t get the nuts off with my fingers. I need a wrench. Or a blowtorch, if you got one handy.”

  Paul cursed under his breath. “Alright,” he said. “Sit tight. I’ll see what I can do.”

  “I’m not going anywhere,” said Adam, sitting against the pipe with a sigh. “Least it’s warm here. The heating’s still running, you know? Must be all gas.”

  “That’s great,” said Paul, not interested at all. “Back in a bit.”

  “Hey,” said Adam. He picked up his flashlight and waved it. “Hurry, eh? Not much battery left.”

  Paul backed up the duct to the junction and headed off another way. If the ducts came out into one room, they’d come out in another.

  He explored several more routes. Each time, they ended in a grate with a darkened, empty room beyond. When he shone his light through, he saw rooms with wiring boxes on the wall, or half full of storage gear. But even if he’d seen what he needed, he couldn’t get through the grates.

  How can I get Adam a wrench if I need a wrench to get into the room?

  He carried on looking. Maybe he’d find another loose grate. He had to do something.

  Presently, he saw light again, and turned off his own. This time it was no flashlight, however. It was the same cold blue light he’d seen shining from behind the boiler room door.

  There must be a grate into the boiler room, he thought. There are bound to be tools in there.

  As he approached, he heard the sound of metal shifting on metal again, a vast sound like a scrap heap collapsing. The same noise he’d heard outside the door of the boiler room. He waited till it had stopped and crept carefully up to the grate.

  His breath caught in his throat as he saw what was beyond.

  When the janitor said the boiler room took up half the basement, he hadn’t been exaggerating. Paul couldn’t even see to the far wall due to the thin fog of steam that hung in the air. Massive black iron tanks loomed out of the blue haze; thick, riveted pipes ran between them. Paul felt heat on his face, and heard the grumble of flames as the ancient boilers heated water. It was sweltering in there. Though the chamber was wide, the vaulted ceiling was low, supported by rows of rough brick pillars. Between the heat and the mist and the cramped space cluttered with dark and clattering machinery, the place had an infernal feel to it.

  And where there was hell, there were demons.

  The Infected were here. A hundred of them, maybe more. They crowded the floor of the boiler room, swarming among the tanks and pipes, sometimes clambering over each other like ants in a nest. Here in the depths of the school, they’d changed, and Paul stared, astonished, at the variety of monstrous forms that moved in the mist and shadow. Long-necked creatures on crooked, spindly legs; spined things that lumbered; waddling, gnashing, toad-like beasts; stealthy, slinking figures with tongues like whips, feeling along the floor ahead of them.

  And everywhere, eyes. Eyes like lamps, the eyes of a hundred Infected, all shining with that cold blue light. Together, they made the room bright: the source of the glow that had drawn Paul to this spot.

  He heard the collapsing-metal sound again. Just at the edge of his vision, a huge shadow moved in the blue mist. He’d thought it was a water tank at first.

  It wasn’t.

  The creature was enormous. So large that its humped back pressed against the ceiling of the boiler room. He saw one colossal arm move, dislodging pieces of metal with a great screech and clatter. The nearby Infected scrambled to pick up the bits and pressed them back against the body of the thing.

  It was a junkyard sculpture come to life. A deformed giant of metal and meat. Slowly it turned, and great lantern eyes came into view, cutting through the gloom. He saw teeth like girders, great straining pistons, and wet flesh stretching at its neck. Wheezing and creaking, it hunkered down in the midst of the Infected’s feverish activity and let them attend to it.

  Like a queen ant and her workers. I know what that thing is. What did Radley call it? The Alpha Carrier. The mind of the network.

  It reached out a limb like the arm of a crane and snatched up one of the Infected that scuttled nearby. Its victim went limp as the Alpha Carrier raised it to its mouth. It bit down, and the Infected was torn in half with a wrenching sound. Cables snapped and fluid spewed, though whether oil or blood or some other liquid, Paul couldn’t see in the blue light.

  He looked away then, but he couldn’t shut his ears to the crunching.

  It’s absorbing them. Assimilating them, so it can grow. Just like that rat in the basement.

  When it was done, he dared to look through the grate again. The Alpha Carrier shifted itself, moving its vast body restlessly. The movement stirred the steam-haze in the air, and for an instant Paul saw its face clearly.

  Though it had changed almost beyond recognition, there was still something to it that was familiar. A fringe of tendrils above the mouth. A bull neck and smooth head with a horseshoe of ratty hair above where its ears should be. And though it was a grotesque distortion of the man he’d known, somehow Paul was certain that he knew that face.

  The dominant male, Radley had said. The dominant male becomes the Alpha Carrier.

  Mr. Harrison, the headmaster. Mr. Harrison.

  It was too much. The whole thing was too much. Paul backed away from the grate. How could they fight monsters like that? Even if they escaped, what hope did they have? The walls of the air duct felt like they were closing in on him. He reached the junction, turned, and scrambled away, and didn’t stop until the dark had swallowed him completely.

  He knelt there, huddled up, calming himself. Don’t think about it. All you have to do is get Adam out of here and get to the helicopter. After that … who knows? But you’ll cope. You’ll cope.

  He felt a little better then. He picked up the flashlight, muffled it with his hand, and turned it on.

  Crouching in front of him, its nightmare face inches from his, was one of the Infected.
<
br />   Paul drew breath to yell, but the Infected moved first, slapping a hand over his mouth.

  A warm hand.

  Something in that touch killed the terror inside him. It was a human touch. Skin and blood and flesh. Realization slotted into place.

  Caitlyn.

  The thing that had been Caitlyn saw the recognition in his eyes. She shrank back from him, withdrawing her hand, averting her face as if ashamed. Her straggly hair hung over the machine half of her features, a curtain to cover them up. Paul couldn’t help the horror and revulsion he felt at the sight of her, but he managed to keep from showing it.

  This is Caitlyn. Don’t look at the Infected part. This is Caitlyn, and she’s as scared as you.

  He swallowed. It was hard to overcome the fear of infection, knowing that the merest scratch could end his life. He didn’t know how much of her was the girl he’d known and how much was the nanomachines now. She might lash out at him at any moment.

  His skin tingled unpleasantly where she’d touched him. Just your mind playing tricks, he told himself. He hoped so.

  They faced each other on their hands and knees, confined by the tunnel. Two rats in a maze, both searching for a way out.

  “Caitlyn,” he said quietly. “I’m sorry. I’m so, so sorry.”

  Her human eye welled up, and she pressed a finger to his lips. His instinct was to pull away from her touch. He made himself stay. After a moment, she pulled her hand back. She ducked her head and looked away, unable to hold his gaze. Even changed as she was, he knew she had something to say, something she could barely manage to force out.

  When the words came, it was a synthesized wheeze so strange that he almost didn’t understand her.

  LOVE … YOU …

  Of all the things he’d expected to hear, that had been the last. He just stared at her. He felt like he should say something, but nothing came.

  I KNOW … YOU … DON’T …, she said. She finally met his eye and held it. HAD … TO …

  Out of the turmoil of emotions he felt in the wake of her words, one emerged, like an iceberg breaching the surface of a stormy sea. Pity. Pity so sharp and terrible that it could cut him or crush him.

  You didn’t deserve this. You didn’t deserve any of it.

  But she didn’t want his pity. There was nothing he could say that would make anything any better. So he said the only thing he could think of.

  “Adam’s trapped. He needs our help.”

  She gave him the faintest of smiles, grateful that he’d changed the subject. It was the least he could do for her.

  SHOW … ME….

  “Adam,” Paul’s voice called quietly through the grate.

  Adam hadn’t moved from his warm spot by the radiator. He was quite relaxed, considering. There was something about that Paul kid, a manner that reassured him. He was a decent guy, Adam had decided. Not the kind who’d run off and leave you.

  It had crossed his mind that Paul had given him the hardest job on purpose, sending him down into the basement just out of spite, or some kind of revenge for their past fights. But that was stupid, of course. He might have believed that of other people, but not Paul. He didn’t know why. Paul just didn’t seem to be like that.

  Besides, he’d come all the way down here to help Adam out, hadn’t he? And since he’d managed that much, Adam had faith that he could pick up a wrench from somewhere.

  “Do me a favor, Adam. Turn off your light for a minute.”

  Adam frowned at him, narrowing his eyes. That old suspicion stirred. He didn’t like to be made a fool of. “What for?”

  “Just trust me, okay?”

  Adam considered that for a moment. He did trust Paul. So he stifled the urge to ask any more questions, reached over, and turned off the flashlight.

  In the darkness, he heard shuffling. Movement in the air duct. Someone crawling.

  Why would Paul ask him to turn the light off?

  There was a screech of metal. Adam jumped. He scrambled for his flashlight, picked it up, found the press-button, and turned it on.

  The grate covering the air duct had been ripped free from the wall, the metal slats mangled as if crushed by some incredible force. He stared at it. Faintly, from the shaft behind, he could hear a noise, a breathy mechanical sound like someone sighing through an out-of-tune harmonica. And he heard Paul say something in response.

  “Paul?”

  Warily, Adam crouched down and shone his light up the air duct. Paul was at the end, squashed up at the junction. He was looking off in another direction. There was the sound of someone moving quickly away down the shaft on their hands and knees, but it wasn’t Paul.

  “Someone in there with you?” he asked.

  Paul looked over at him and beckoned. “Come on,” he said.

  Adam squeezed himself into the shaft and crawled toward him. He didn’t like not knowing what was going on. It made him suspect that a nasty surprise was in store.

  “Follow me,” said Paul. “The ducts come out fairly near the stairs. I think we can sneak the rest of the way from there.”

  “How’d you do that with the grate?” Adam asked.

  “I’ll tell you once we’re out of here,” said Paul. “Right now, we’ve got to hurry. Really hurry.”

  “Why? What’s gonna happen?”

  There was a strange look on Paul’s face. Worry. Fear. Sorrow? Adam wasn’t good at reading people. Whatever it was, he was looking off up the air duct again, but when Adam looked there was nothing there.

  “I don’t know,” Paul said. “All I know is, we’d better not be here when it does.”

  Erika stood on the edge of the sports hall roof, hugging herself against the blustery wind. Behind her, she could hear Mark and Carson tinkering and clattering as they fixed up the engine of the helicopter. Carson was still woozy and had a darkening bruise on his forehead, but he hadn’t stayed unconscious for long. Johnny was elsewhere, sitting on his own, obsessed with his own thoughts. Just as Erika was.

  The campus was quiet. The Infected had stopped shrieking some time ago, their grief and anger spent, and gradually they’d dispersed and scattered. The occasional Infected still wandered about here and there. She’d seen some heading off toward the lake and the old ruined chapel. Others ambled aimlessly around the tennis courts at the far north end of the campus. The few that were left had been easy enough for Mark and Johnny to avoid on their way over from the school.

  The Infected seemed to have lost their direction now. Perhaps their appetite for recruiting new victims had run out. Whatever the reason, they were apparently content to stay inside the campus walls and drift about. Erika occasionally caught sight of one of the creatures absorbing another, but mostly they did nothing.

  She wondered why they didn’t leave. If they broke out through the gates, they could spread over the countryside. Perhaps they didn’t want to stray too far from each other. What was it Radley had said? They’re smarter when they’re together? And something about an Alpha Carrier? Maybe it was that which kept them here.

  Are they just waiting around while the network builds? While they get smarter and evolve? Maybe they’ve used up all the resources nearby.

  It sickened her to think of people as resources, but that was how the Infected must have seen them. Hosts. Carriers. Raw material to be processed.

  Caitlyn.

  No. She wouldn’t think about Caitlyn. Not now. She needed to be strong.

  She felt in her pocket for her cigarettes, found them, and then patted about for her lighter. It wasn’t there. She remembered it had fallen out of her hand in the swim hall. Too much trouble, she decided; she put the cigarettes back.

  “Those things’ll kill you,” Paul had told her once. The thought brought a tiny smile to her face. She remembered him grinning at her on the rooftop of another building, the science block, which was still burning nearby. The wind down the valley carried the smoke south and away from her.

  Paul, she thought. Where are you?

&n
bsp; Mark and Johnny had told her how Paul had gone down into the basement after Adam. It seemed like the kind of stupid heroics she’d often scoffed at in the movies that Tom liked to take her to. Pumped-up jocks running through a hail of bullets to save their buddies. When she saw it in the cinema, from the luxury of her nice safe world, it had always seemed laughably dumb.

  But this was no movie. The world was no longer nice and safe, and she didn’t laugh at things like that anymore. She didn’t think Paul was stupid. She thought it was the bravest thing she’d ever heard.

  I did my part, she thought. Now you do yours. Get out of there alive.

  She turned away from the edge of the roof and walked toward the chopper. Mark and Carson were just closing up the engine compartment. Mark got up and grinned at her.

  “Done,” he said.

  “It’ll fly?”

  “She’ll fly,” said Carson. “Not gonna know for sure if everything’s alright till we get her up in the air, but I’ve checked everything. I’m as certain as I can be.”

  “Shouldn’t you try out the engine or something first?”

  “Last time I started those blades spinning, every Infected in the area went for us. Might be they haven’t noticed us up here yet, but as soon as I fire up that chopper, they’re gonna come running.” He clapped his hands together. “So I want everyone in. Let’s get to it.”

  Mark looked puzzled. “You just said —”

  “Right,” said Carson. “Once we turn on that engine, we’re taking off. So let’s get her going. Won’t be a second chance.”

  Mark looked to Erika for support. “But …” Then his expression hardened. “Paul and Adam aren’t back yet.”

  Carson gave him a sympathetic look. “They ain’t coming back.”

  “They’ll be here,” Mark insisted.

  “If them creatures come swarming at us, how long you think we’ll have, huh? They can climb walls now. It’s only a matter of time before they notice there’s four juicy humans up here. I ain’t going out like Radley did.”