This Dark Earth Read Online Free Page A

get alcohol and a swab.
    “Luce. This is absurd.”
    She ignored him. It’s an infant, so I should use a finger stick, but . . . Christ, the thing has no pulse! I have to use the Vacutainer .
    “Lucy.”
    The child seemed even cooler when she swabbed the crook of her arm with the alcohol-soaked cotton. As she placed the needle close to the child’s skin, Robby said, “Goddamn it, Lucy. Wake up!”
    He grabbed her shoulder and spun her around.
    “Martha, get your child,” Robby said, shifting his gazeaway from Lucy for just an instant and then turning back to her. “Enough, Luce. It’s time to start thinking bigger.”
    Martha moved to the table and gently reswaddled her girl. Hands trembling, she kissed the baby’s gray head.
    “Bigger?”
    “It’s contagious, that much is certain, whatever this is. We’ve got to think about our families.”
    “Call Rachel.”
    Robby dug a cell phone from his pocket and dialed. Lucy watched him as he listened. Eventually, he shook his head and his expression grew even more grim. “‘Network busy,’” he said.
    “So we still don’t know anything.”
    A scream came from outside the door, a scream beyond anything she’d ever heard. The sound was half rage, half pain, like some pig sent to the slaughter, still alive before having the skin stripped from it. It was a sound that defied education, went beyond learning, and affected her on a physiological level. Her skin prickled, her muscles tensed. She was watching Robby when the sound came. Lucy noted his pupils dilating, marked his increase in breathing and the flushed quality of his skin. Heart rate up, increased blood flow. His body was preparing to fight. Or flee. Once again, it struck her as strange how her mind could still switch to the analytical, even in the worst situations.
    She looked down at her hands, the Vacutainer and cotton-swab now looking so helpless and feeble against the mounting tide of mysteries, of questions she’d never be able answer, puzzles she’d never be able to solve.
    “Okay.” She shook her head, half to clear it, half to come to grips with what was going to come next. She took a deep breath and said, “You’re right. We have to go.”
    Robby gave a little manic laugh. The stress was visible in his posture, his expression. “I realize how hard that is for you to admit, Luce. So I won’t rub it in. How do you want to do this?”
    Lucy grabbed her needle gun. She raised an eyebrow at Robby. “I say we go out the back way near the employee parking lot.”
    Robbins checked his pockets. He pulled out his keys.
    From the waiting room, a sound of shattering glass reverberated through the building. The door rattled in its frame. Martha whimpered and pressed Deb close to her chest.
    “Okay.” Lucy held up the big needle for aspirating tissue and looked at her companions. “Quickly, right? You ready?” At Robby’s nod and Martha’s terrified blinking, Lucy jerked open the door and stepped into the waiting room.
    The contortionist stood, swaying, in front of her. Blood dripped from his lower lip, and he turned dull, milky eyes toward Lucy. He took a step forward, raising his arms.
    “Go! Go!” she yelled. Robbins and Martha dashed behind her, moving toward the automatic doors.
    Attention fixed on Lucy, the contortionist let the others pass. Lurching forward, he grabbed her arms, opened his mouth, and tilted his head as if to bite her face.
    This is not happening .
    She twisted in his grasp, but the man drew her closer with astonishingly strong hands. His mouth gaped.
    Oh no, you don’t .
    She was surprised at her own strength. She wrenched herself away and stepped back to get more space. Then, as if she was throwing a punch, she dipped her knees, flexed, and shot her fist outward, toward his face. He didn’t flinch or dodge.
    It’s as if he’s lost all reflex . . . All his autonomic functions are suppressed. Nonexistent, maybe .
    The needle went through his eye, into the brain, more