Out for Blood Read online

  But if what he had heard was true, if that sanctimonious little brat Emmet Doyle was still inside… well, this could be an opportunity that might not present itself again.

  Circling the school, he discovered that most of the police, fire, and rescue efforts were concentrated at the front. It made sense. Most of the victims inside would instinctively rush toward the front door in their attempts to get to safety. That is where the first responders would concentrate their resources. But the back of the school was relatively free of any activity. None of the emergency personnel were thinking that someone might try to get into the school, only to get out.

  Dr. Catalyst turned down a side street and parked his truck at the curb. From the truck’s toolbox mounted behind the cab, he removed a black ski mask and several dozen long plastic zip ties. He was still wearing his FBI Windbreaker. Anyone who spotted him would likely assume he was part of the rescue effort.

  Hurrying down the street, he cut across the rear parking lot to an emergency-exit door hidden in an alcove along the back wall. He could hear the fire alarm blaring inside the building. That would cover his entrance. The door was locked, but with the handle of his pistol he knocked out one of the door’s glass panes. Reaching through, he pulled on the bar and the door popped open.

  Before he entered the school, he sifted through his pocket and pulled out a small electronic device, roughly the size of a smartphone, and switched it on. The device was his own invention, a high-frequency transmitter that was designed to disrupt the bats’ echolocation ability, making them think he was an undesirable food source. If it worked, it would prevent his being swarmed by the creatures. He’d carried it with him ever since releasing them.

  Once inside, Dr. Catalyst listened for the sound of voices over the shrieking fire alarm but heard nothing. He quickly hustled down the hallway to the next door and looped a zip tie through the handles, securing it. Someone would have to cut through it from the inside before they could get away. The thought of it made him smile. He would work his way around the entire building, securing all the doors, making sure no one could get in or out.

  If Emmet and Calvin were still inside, they would be trapped until his Blood Jackets finished them off.

  The very thought of it made Dr. Catalyst absolutely gleeful.

  DR. NEWTON WASN’T SURE HOW LONG HE’D BEEN FREE. A couple of hours, at least. It was now completely dark and he was wishing with all his heart that Dr. Catalyst had invented a genetically altered super-creature that preyed on mosquitoes. As he trudged through the swamp, with only the moonlight to guide him, he had become a walking all-you-can-eat buffet.

  He was taking a route to the southeast. One he hoped would return him to some form of civilization before long. After leaving the warehouse, he had headed straight north, going deeper into the swamp. This had been done intentionally. He hoped his captor would assume he’d head immediately to the south, toward the ocean. Moving north would increase his chances of getting away. Now, as the mosquitoes surrounded him in a cloud, he began to regret his decision.

  He turned east for a while, and then southeast, which should theoretically lead him to a town, or at least a stream or river he could follow to one. If nothing else, he would reach the ocean eventually. Right now, he’d even settle for stumbling across a deserted fishing camp.

  The mosquitoes were relentless. Weakly, he knelt beside a small bog and rubbed mud into his face and arms. It would hopefully provide some level of protection from the maddening insects until it dried and flaked off. As he stood, something shrieked in the forest about thirty or forty yards behind him. He could hear the rattling of the branches and leaves as a very large animal wended through the canopy of trees. Moving in his direction. Dr. Newton stopped and stared through the foliage but couldn’t see anything.

  It was probably a nervous eagle, or an osprey, uneasy because he had intruded so closely to its nest.

  Dr. Newton was familiar with the swamp. He wasn’t too worried about alligators. He made plenty of noise as he trudged along. Most gators would avoid contact with a human unless they were cornered. They possessed excellent senses of hearing, smell, and sight, and any he might have encountered would scramble away before he drew too close.

  Unless they were very hungry …

  As he walked, he heard the sound in the trees behind him again. It was closer this time. And then a strange call cut through the darkness … not exactly like a gator, but similar. It was the reaction in the swamp to the animal’s cry that unnerved him most. Birds that had been nesting screeched in alarm and took to the sky. Off in the distance, he heard alligators calling to their young and the answering squeaks of their babies as they scrambled to find their parents in the darkness. He heard the unmistakable rustle of small animals scurrying away through the underbrush, and other creatures splashing into the water.

  And behind him, he heard the same rustling in the treetops again.

  Dr. Newton quickened his pace.

  And so did whatever was following him.

  This part of the swamp was thick with trees, and the ground was soft and marshy, but he ran, grunting and groaning with the effort as he hurtled across the uneven ground. Several times he stumbled, his feet becoming tangled in roots and grasses.

  After running for several hundred yards, he stopped to rest and listen. At first he thought he was safe, that whatever was there had abandoned the chase. But the chirping insects and frogs went silent a few moments later as his pursuer caught up. The rustling was back and it was closer this time.

  It was right above him.

  Dr. Newton sprinted away. He heard something big crashing through the trees behind him. It caught up to him far too quickly. He risked a glance over his shoulder and screamed in alarm.

  Flying through the air, its four legs spread wide, the beast glided toward him. Its long neck and large mouth, full of sharp, pointed teeth, made it look somewhat like an alligator … but not quite. Dr. Newton saw it silhouetted in the moonlight and let out a bloodcurdling scream.

  Having been locked up and drugged for several days, Dr. Newton believed in that moment he was hallucinating. It was the only explanation.

  Otherwise, he was about to be eaten by a dragon.

  EMMET WAS SURPRISED THAT THEY MADE IT OUT OF THE gym, convinced as he was that they were going to die inside it. The only thing preventing him from doing a happy dance was the fact that the hallway was full of Blood Jackets as well. Maybe even more than there were in the gym, if that was possible.

  “Where in the world did all of these things come from?” he shouted over the noise of the fire alarm. A Blood Jacket flew at him, landing on his football helmet, and Raeburn deftly flicked it off with her stick.

  “Probably nested in the ventilation system,” Calvin said matter-of-factly as he swatted another creature that was headed for Riley out of the air.

  “Really, Captain Obvious?” Emmet complained. “So, which way do we go?”

  Tasker Middle School was designed like a giant letter H. They were in the hall outside the gym. It connected the two large hallways that ran parallel to each other. If they went to their right and then left down the main hallway, they could exit the building and hopefully escape these horrifying creatures.

  “This way,” Riley said. “There’s an emergency door right around the corner.”

  They followed her lead and went left instead. Emmet was thinking it was smart of her to remember the fire doors. TO BE USED IN THE EVENT OF AN EMERGENCY, the signs said. He was pretty sure this qualified.

  They scrambled around the corner and sprinted to the door. The flying death machines followed them, screeching through the air. Calvin charged headlong at the door and grabbed the handle, coming to a crashing, thudding halt.

  “Oof!” he said as blundered into it. He pushed the bar again, and nothing happened.

  “Somebody sealed it shut,” Emmet said, pointing. The handle had been secured with a nylon zip tie.

  “Who would do that?” Calvin
said.

  “It’s Dr. Catalyst! He’s here!” Emmet shouted.

  “You don’t know that,” Calvin said.

  “Yes, I do. My Dr. Catalyst sense is tingling. Who else would do this? Come on, we’ve got to get out of here.”

  The four of them ran down the hall to the next emergency exit, only to find it was also sealed. Emmet swung his stick at the zip tie in frustration, but it had no effect.

  “We need to find something to cut through these. I don’t suppose you have a jackknife in your sock?” he asked Calvin.

  Calvin shook his head. “You’re not allowed to bring knives to school.”

  “Come on!” Raeburn said. “Let’s head to the front door.”

  They ran back to the center hallway and past the gym doors. Blood Jackets were pouring out of the gym. Emmet couldn’t tell if these were new creatures, or if the rest of the crowd had escaped outside and these critters were flying around looking for new victims. It was hard to keep track because they flew extremely fast and there were so many of them looping around one another.

  As they reached the other main hallway, they ran to the nearest emergency door. It too was sealed with a zip tie. Someone had deliberately sealed the doors.

  “Who would do this?” Riley cried, her voice thick with desperation. The alarm was still blaring.

  “Dr. Catalyst!” Emmet insisted. “He’s here!”

  Calvin and Raeburn began swinging their sticks back and forth while Emmet and Riley tried to find a way to open the door. But without something sharp, it was useless.

  “The front door can’t be sealed. All of the people at the concert had to get out somehow,” Emmet said.

  “We can’t get out that way,” Calvin said. “Look at the doors.”

  At the front entrance of Tasker Middle School were double doors made with large safety-glass panels on each one. There were tall floor-to-ceiling windows on either side of the doors. Outside, they could see the flashing lights of emergency vehicles, but only barely. The doors were covered with a moving, squirming wall of the hybrid monsters. And more and more of them were flying at the window, trying to escape the confines of the building and the shriek of the alarm.

  “Oh. My. God,” Riley said.

  “We better get out of here before those things notice us!” Raeburn said. She and Calvin were swinging their sticks in a wide arc, trying to keep the nearby creatures at bay. Emmet tried desperately to pry the zip tie loose from the door. He had wedged his stick between it and the door handle, but no matter how hard he pulled, the thick plastic would not give.

  “It’s no use,” he said. “We need to find another way out.”

  As Emmet tried to work his stick free from the sealed door, a strange feeling came over him. Like he was being watched. And not by the tiny flying death machines. He yanked the stick free and stepped back from the door, looking down the hallway in the opposite direction, toward the rear of the school.

  A man was standing there, studying them. He was wearing a black Windbreaker, and though there were plenty of Blood Jackets flying around him, they didn’t attack or dive at his head or body. In fact, if anything, they appeared to be ignoring him.

  “Look!” Emmet pointed down the hallway, and Riley, Raeburn, and Calvin followed his gaze. The man stared back for just a few seconds, then slipped through the door at the end of the hallway.

  “Who was that?” Raeburn asked.

  “Dr. Catalyst, I presume,” Emmet said. “And I bet he has a way out of here. Come on!”

  The four of them sprinted down the hallway in the direction the man had disappeared. They didn’t notice that the Blood Jackets that had been covering the windows and doors of the school’s front entrance were now alerted to their presence. With a loud shriek, they took to the air and pursued their four victims down the hallway.

  DR. CATALYST HURRIED THROUGH THE BACK OF THE school. He cursed himself for lingering too long in the hallway. And for forgetting to wear his ski mask, which he now donned. The four kids, ridiculously dressed in football gear, had undoubtedly spotted him. It was a foolish mistake. Once he retrieved the idiot Newton from his futile attempt at escape, he needed to take time and regroup. It would be especially troubling if Calvin had managed to get a good look at him.

  There was no time to worry about that now. He had only been visible to them for a few seconds. And he was at the far end of a hallway, with hundreds of Blood Jackets buzzing about. It was unlikely they would be able to identify him.

  The end of the hallway held the room that housed the school’s electrical systems, heating, and air-conditioning. He stopped at the door. It was a single knob, so there was no way to secure it with one of his zip ties. He looked around for something he might use to jam it but couldn’t find anything. If those children were pursuing him, they would be here in a few seconds. He left the door alone.

  This area of the building also housed janitorial supplies and various other items needed to operate the school. As he passed the main ventilation duct, Dr. Catalyst could hear the shrieks and the flapping, scratching wings of his creations inside. They must have nested in the cavernous system of air tunnels within the school. Watching them in action had been delightful.

  Working his way through the maze of equipment, he reached the door leading to the outside of the school. Carefully, he cracked it open and looked out into the darkness. There was no one around. He slipped outside, and quickly slid a zip tie through the door handle, winding it through a bracket bolted to the doorframe. Let that little snot Emmet Doyle try and get out now.

  As he turned from the door he froze, remembering something.

  He looked down at the fake FBI Windbreaker he was wearing. The fact that he had made his way into the school for a few seconds and let the kids see him without his face covered did not concern him. Even if Calvin had spotted him, he was far away and they were distracted by the Blood Jackets, and Dr. Catalyst had only been visible for a few seconds.

  But he had spoken to the police officer at the front of the school.

  If Emmet and Calvin and the others survived, authorities would question them. Undoubtedly they would report spotting someone in the school. Even with a vague description, the police officer might remember that a lone FBI agent claiming to be driving through the area had stopped to offer assistance. The officer was trained to observe, and he had clearly seen Dr. Catalyst’s face. Then they could construct a suspect sketch, and an image would be broadcast all over the area, making it more difficult for him to move about and complete his work.

  Dr. Catalyst groaned. It was difficult to accept that all of these variables were interfering with his plans. His first Pterogator had been found by one of Dr. Geaux’s rangers. Then that cursed Emmet Doyle had shown up, forcing the events that led to the necessity of kidnapping his father. Now he had to deal with that idiot Newton. He almost hoped something in the swamp would eat the buffoon just to shorten his list of chores.

  One thing after another had gone wrong. Perhaps bringing about the type of cataclysmic change he hoped to achieve was too daunting a task for one man.

  He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. Ridiculous. He was Dr. Catalyst, brilliant and cunning.

  One of the things that had gotten him this far was his photographic memory. It allowed him to remember even the most arcane scientific data. With his talented mind he could recall reams of complex formulas.

  It was this very ability that allowed him to remember the name tag on the uniform of the officer he had spoken to earlier. Stukaczowski. The name sounded familiar for some reason, but he couldn’t remember why. He would need to be dealt with. And soon. As he thought, Dr. Catalyst worked his damaged arm against his thigh, remembering that moment in the Glades when the Pterogator had turned on him. So much to do. All because of Emmet Doyle.

  Just as he was about to slip away into the darkness, he heard frightened screams coming from inside the school, so loud they carried over the sound of the fire alarm. That must be Emmet, Calvin, an
d their friends, undoubtedly experiencing the singular focus of the Blood Jackets, who would now be driven nearly mad with the need to feed. There was nowhere for the kids to hide.

  Dr. Catalyst removed the ski mask and headed for his truck, unable to keep the smile from his face.

  EMMET AND HIS FRIENDS RAN TOWARD THE DOOR where the mysterious figure had disappeared. The flying monsters were flooding into the hallway. So far, the pads and helmets had managed to keep any of the vicious beasts from getting a serious hold on them. But somehow everyone else had escaped the building. With just the four of them left, the Blood Jackets were refocusing their energies on the only available food source.

  Emmet thought the hallway had somehow gotten longer. Why was the end of it so far away now? He realized he was growing tired. Adrenaline and fear would only carry them so far. They must either get out or find somewhere safe to hunker down and wait for a rescue.

  “Uh, guys!” Raeburn shouted. “Look behind us.”

  They slowed and glanced over their shoulders. Emmet immediately wished he hadn’t. Hundreds of the Blood Jackets were zooming toward them. They had abandoned their attempt to break through the front door and instead were in full pursuit.

  “We’re not going to make it,” Emmet said. The door to the boiler room was a good thirty yards away, and the creatures were closing fast. This was it. Emmet looked around for anything that might help, or anywhere they could hide. There was nowhere to go. All the classroom doors were locked.

  Then his eyes came to rest on the emergency fire equipment. Inside a locked thick glass case was a fire hose. Next to it, also locked behind glass, was a fire extinguisher. As quickly as he could, Emmet swung his hockey stick over his head and brought it down like an axe, smashing the glass covering. He dropped the stick and yanked the extinguisher free from the clips holding it in place. Using it like a battering ram, he smashed through the thicker glass encasing the hose.