“You’re gonna tell us what the deal is with the City, and then you’re gonna go outside and fix our other snowmobile. I don’t care if it’s coming down out there, or if it’s negative a million degrees, or if the fucking Thumbprint People lend you a hand. We’re done messing around!”
At the mention of the Thumbprint People, Ramsey’s confident expression wavered, but only for a moment. Soon he was smiling again, which only served to piss Stone off more.
I had made it a point to not let this get out of hand. So far, I was failing.
Ramsey held his hands up. “All right, all right, I’ll tell you. Just get the damn rifle outta my face.”
“Fine.” Stone lowered the gun, but kept it on the table and aimed at Ramsey’s chest.
“You wanna know what happened?” Ramsey said. “Well, I’m not too sure myself. But I’ll tell y’all one thing: the guy who was doin’ the studying, Berretti’s his name, lacks common sense. Sure, he’s got a brain for science, but he was workin’ for some covert government organization before, which only got shadier after the snow fell, and I think that ain’t exactly the type of science you and me studied in school. Shit’s way above my pay grade.” He chuckled. “Anyway, those things, those shadows, showed up all over the world, and Berretti, he wanted to study ‘em. So he did.”
“Is he in charge there?” I asked.
Ramsey shrugged. “Not really. He’s got some pull, but another fella runs the place. Nick Rider. I guess Berretti’s his second in command, and I ain’t ever seen two more different people in my life. They get along pretty well, though. Somehow. Berretti, he’s not too kind a guy. Y’all wanna steer clear of him and stay off his bad side—especially if Rider’s not around.”
“So he’s the reason for the...incident?” I said, unsure of what the incident was but having a slight idea.
“Pretty much. Berretti’s got a lot of blood on his hands because of it.”
Ell put her hand over her mouth. “Blood?”
Ramsey nodded. “Yes, ma’am.”
I wasn’t sure I wanted to know the story, but I leaned forward and listened anyway.
“So this son of a bitch and his team of scientists somehow trapped one of those bastards. Kept it below the City—”
“And you saw this?” Stone asked, a smirk on his face.
“Not when it was trapped, no. But I sure as shit saw it when it got out, and when it…infected a bunch of my friends.”
“That’s terrible,” Ell said.
“How did it get out?” Stone asked, glaring at Ramsey.
“No,” Mia interrupted, face red again. “The real question is why in the holy green fuck would some psycho keep one as a pet?”
“Bingo.” Ramsey winked and pointed a finger gun at Mia. “Couldn’t’ve said it better myself. How did it get out? Well, far as I know, that’s up for debate, but I’d bet my right arm it got into someone’s head, fucked with that person’s brain, had ‘em unlock the cage or whatever, and then strolled away like it fuckin’ owned the place.”
“How many…?” I asked. My voice faded as I realized it probably wasn’t the most sympathetic question to ask, considering Ramsey had called these people his friends.
Ramsey, however, didn’t seem fazed.
“Let’s see, there was about three hundred living there when the one got out—”
"Shit—there was more?” Stone whispered. “They got in?” He pulled the rifle from the tabletop and cradled it against his chest, enraptured. I shook my head at him. Ain’t nothing like a good story to lose yourself in, despite the horror.
“Yeah, don’t know how many. I saw at least five on my own, and at the time, the City was a big-ass place. You know how it is, though, domino effect or whatnot. The first shadow gets out, infects a bunch of people, then they go on and take over the security systems, power down the lights, open the gates, and those other fuckers ain’t gonna miss the chance at a free meal. Let me tell ya, three hundred people can muster up a lot of fear. Massacre is a better word for what happened. If you can, just imagine a bunch of people runnin’ around like chickens with their heads cut off.”
My heart dropped—what was left of my heart, I mean. “How many survived?”
“I don’t got an exact count, but when it was all said and done and the bodies were scraped off the roads, I’d say less than seventy-five.”
“Holy—” I began.
“Fuckballs,” Mia interrupted. Not exactly how I planned on finishing, but it summed up my feelings well enough.
“Less than seventy-five?” Stone said. “How many were your doing?”
“You implyin’ I killed a few of my own friends?”
“Implying? No. I think it’s pretty obvious what I meant.”
My muscles tensed as I shot up from my chair. I knew this disagreement was going to come to blows (or someone was going to get shot, and it usually seemed to be the innocent bystanders in these types of situations), so I snatched the gun from Stone’s grip. Like myself earlier, he hadn’t expected it, and it was easy enough to pry it from his hands without endangering the others. For the most part.
“Okay,” I said, taking a few steps away from the table. “Enough with this shit.”
I wrestled with the rifle while I attempted to figure out how to take it apart, a feat I’d seen before in a hundred action movies. But this wasn’t an action movie. My elbows chicken-winged and flapped. My face heated up. My teeth bared. Honestly, I tried my best, but since the steel refused to bend to my will, I just gave up.
“You can eject the mag by hittin’ that button right there,” Ramsey said, pointing near the rifle’s stock.
I saw no button, and stared at him in confusion.
“Eh, don’t worry.
