The Passage - By Justin Cronin Page 0,298

fumes. He dropped his empty rifle and seized one of the pots from the ceiling. A wide copper fry pan, heavy in his hands.

Something had followed them through the door.

He turned, swinging the pan as he lurched backward against the stove—a gesture that would have seemed comical if it weren’t so desperate—sheltering Alicia with his body as the viral bounded to the top of the steel table, dropping into a crouch. A female: her fingers were covered in rings like the ones he’d seen on the slims at the card table. She was holding her hands away from her body, the long fingers flexing, shoulders swaying in a liquid motion from side to side. Peter clutched the pan like a shield, Alicia pressed behind him.

Alicia: “She sees herself!”

What was the viral waiting for? Why hadn’t she attacked?

“Her reflection!” Alicia hissed. “She sees her reflection in the pan!”

Peter became aware of a new sound, coming from the viral—a mournful nasal moaning, like the whine of a dog. As if the image of her face, reflected in the pan’s copper bottom, were the source of some deep and melancholy recognition. Peter cautiously moved the pan back and forth, the viral’s eyes following, entranced. How long could he hold her like this, before more virals came through the door? His hands were slick with sweat, the air was so dense with fumes he could scarcely breathe.

This place will go up like a torch.

“Lish, do you see a way out of here?”

Alicia swiveled her head quickly. “A door to your right, five meters.”

“Is it locked?”

“How should I know?”

He spoke through clenched teeth, doing everything he could to hold his body still, to keep the viral’s eyes focused on the pan. “Does it have a lock you can see, damnit?”

The creature startled, a muscular tautness rippling through her. Her jaw fell open, lips withdrawing to reveal the rows of gleaming teeth. She had given up her moaning; she had begun to click.

“No, I don’t see one.”

“Pull a grenade.”

“There’s not enough space in here!”

“Do it. The room is full of gas. Toss it behind her and run like hell for the door.”

Alicia slipped a hand between their bodies to her waist, freeing a grenade from her belt. He felt her pull the pin.

“Here you go,” she said.

A clean arc, up and over the viral’s head. It was as Peter had hoped; the viral’s eyes broke away, her head twisting to follow the airborne parabola of the grenade as it lobbed across the room, clattering on the table behind her before rolling to the floor. Peter and Alicia turned and dashed for the door. Alicia got there first, slamming into the metal bar. Fresh air and a feeling of space—they were on some kind of loading dock. Peter was counting in his head. One second, two seconds, three seconds …

He heard the first report, the concussive spray of the grenade’s detonation, and then a second, deeper boom as the gas in the room ignited. They rolled over the edge of the dock as first the door shot above their heads and then the shock wave, a prow of fire. Peter felt the air being stripped from his lungs. He pressed his face into the earth, his hands held over his head. More explosions as pockets of gas went off, the fire traveling upward through the structure. Debris began to pour down over them, glass falling everywhere, exploding on the pavement in a rain of glinting shards. He breathed in a mouthful of smoke and dust.

“We have to move!” Alicia cried, pulling at him. “The whole thing is going up!”

His hands and face felt wet, but who knew what that was. They were somewhere on the south side of the building. They tore across the street under the light of the burning hotel and took cover behind the rusted hulk of an overturned car.

They were breathing hard, coughing out smoke. Their faces were coated with soot. He looked at Lish and saw a long glistening stain on her upper thigh, soaking the fabric of her pants.

“You’re bleeding.”

She pointed at his head. “So are you.”

Above them, a second series of explosions shook the air. A huge fireball ascended upward through the hotel, bathing the scene in a furious orange light, sending more flaming debris cascading to the street.

“You think the others got out?” he asked.

“I don’t know.” Alicia coughed again, then took a mouthful of water from her canteen and spat onto the ground. “Stay put.”

She scooted around the