They reached the road leading to the gate. A scream cut through the noise behind them, raising the hairs on the back of Mario’s neck. His chest tightened. He put his arm out to the side to stop Skye, because he knew that voice.
It was Doug.
Doug kept screaming, his cries bloodcurdling. It sounded like someone was breaking his fingers with a hammer.
“That’s Doug!” Skye said. She started to bolt, but Mario held her fast.
“Be smart,” he said, placing himself in her path and gripping her shoulder tighter. “We can’t just charge out there. We don’t know who’s with him.”
“I don’t care,” she said. But to her credit, she didn’t break free of Mario’s grip to run. “You take that side,” she said, jerking her chin toward the other side of the road. “I’ll take this one.”
“Don’t get ahead of me,” Mario said. Doug screamed again. Skye’s flinch mirrored his own. “I mean it, Skye. Don’t get stupid.”
She nodded, her lips pressed in a hard line. Murder filled her eyes. Mario wished he had a tether to tie them together because he didn’t trust her to be smart about this. If it was Miranda screaming, he wouldn’t trust himself to be.
They crept down the road. It was darker over here, the trees blocking some of the light from the fire behind them. The drawbridge was illuminated inconsistently—brighter in some spots, others deep in shadow. The gate towers cast long shadows, making it hard to see. Doug screamed again, the worst so far. Mario glanced over at Skye. She had gotten ahead of him.
“Slow down,” he hissed at her.
She either did not hear him or did not care.
Mario squinted, picking up the pace. There was movement in the darkness, but he couldn’t tell what or who it was. The fire behind them flared. Something was different about the drawbridge cables. He saw Doug on the ground, a man bending over him. Doug flinched away from the man, his whimper of pain loud enough that Mario could hear it.
The crack of Skye’s rifle felt like a punch to the side of Mario’s head. What the fuck was she doing?
Another voice shouted, “Rocco! No!”
It was Miranda.
“Miranda,” he shouted, taking off for the gate and drawbridge. “It’s Mario and Skye! Don’t shoot! Don’t shoot!”
They reached Doug and Rocco just as Miranda emerged from the tower stairs.
“Rocco,” Miranda said, stumbling to him.
Skye stood over Rocco for a moment, frozen in shock. “I didn’t know— I didn’t realize it was him!”
She dropped to her knees, covering the gunshot with her hands. Blood welled up between her fingers, slicking her hands as she leaned into Rocco.
Rocco groaned, but it was soft, almost a whisper. Doug crawled over to them. A dog Mario dimly recognized as Delilah whimpered and whined.
“Oh fuck,” Skye said, looking up at Mario. “Is he breathing?”
“Yeah,” Doug, said, his voice pained and faint.
Mario bolted away, faster than he would have thought possible after everything that had happened today.
“I need River,” he shouted, bursting into the parking lot. He kept running, shouting at the top of his lungs.
“I need the doctor! I need River! Rocco’s been shot!”
Mario’s ass prickled with pins and needles. He had fallen asleep while sitting up against the wall of the Boys’ Home dining hall. He climbed to his feet, clumsy because his right foot was asleep, too. Miranda stood between a pushed-out chair and the dining table he had last seen her sitting at, her face pinched with worry. Phineas, the young man with a playful crush on Miranda, stood beside her. Skye and Doug were on their feet next to him. Skye looked as distraught as she had when Mario nodded out.
River approached from the partitioned off end of the dining hall, where a makeshift operating theater had been set up. She lifted the strap of her blood-soaked apron over her head, pulling the scrub cap off with it.
“He’s alive.”
Mario’s whole body felt light, like a helium balloon floating up to the sky. Sighs of relief came from everyone. Skye collapsed into a chair and began to weep, then cry outright, her gasping breaths harsh against Mario’s ear.
“The bullet entered between two of his back ribs and lodged against a rib on the front, nicking the edge of his right lung. It didn’t hit any other organs. The lung collapsed, but we were able to reinflate it. Luckily, the front rib didn’t shatter and can heal in place. I was able to get the bullet out,” she said. She put her hand on Skye’s shoulder. “He’s strong and stubborn, and it could have been a lot worse. If he does well the next twenty-four hours and doesn’t get an infection, he should make a full recovery.”
Skye sniffed. “All of our antibiotics are expired.”
River crouched down so that she was eye level with Skye.
“Expiration dates don’t mean the drugs don’t work anymore. They’re when the pharmaceutical company could guarantee the medicine was still one hundred percent effective. That doesn’t mean they don’t work. Those jerks probably made the dates earlier than they needed to be so they could make more money. Unless they need to be refrigerated, antibiotics will work up to fifteen years past expiration. What we’ve got is fine, Skye.”
“Okay,” Skye said, visibly trying to pull herself together.
Doug’s attempts to physically comfort her were awkward since one arm was in a sling because of his dislocated shoulder, and the other splinted from his palm past his elbow on account of a broken bone in his forearm. Once River had time to check the splinting done by one of her assistants, it would go into a cast. Mario couldn’t remember if it was the ulna or radius that had broken, but the upshot was Doug would be fine. Compared to being eaten by zombies, he had gotten off lightly.
“I’ll go tell the commander,” Phineas said, hurrying away.
“I should look at that graze, Miranda,” River said.
Miranda brushed away River’s concern. “It’s already been patched up. It’s really nothing.”
“If it gets red or swollen, come see me right away,” River said.
Miranda had received River’s concern better than Mario’s. When he had asked her earlier if she was okay, she had barely acknowledged him. He had been cutting her a wide berth since. He couldn’t handle an argument right now.
“I have other patients. I’ll see you all later,” River said.
As she walked past him, Mario said, “Well done, Doc.”
“Thanks.” She paused and smiled tiredly. “The ancestors must be doing their thing today. The attack at the Institute wasn’t successful, either.”
Mario nodded his agreement. “Thank those ancestors for me.”
“Thank them yourself. I’m too busy,” she said. Then she wrinkled her nose. “You got that looked at, right?”
Mario looked down at his arm, wrapped in clean bandages.
“Yeah. Zombie bite. Your assistant cleaned it and hooked me up with antibiotics. I’ll be fine.”
Over River’s shoulder, he saw a flash of concern in Miranda’s eyes as she walked by. But just for a moment, and it didn’t stop her.
River shook her head at him. “I can’t wait until everyone can be that blasé about a zombie bite.”
“Yeah,” Mario said. “Me too.”
A few minutes later, Mario was walking down a back hallway of the Boys’ Home dining hall with Miranda and Doug. The commander had summoned them to where they were interrogating the healthy prisoner. Smith stood at the far end, talking to Rich. A small knot of people who looked familiar but whom Mario didn’t know hovered nearby.
Everything about the situation made Mario uneasy. Rich and Smith looked up at their arrival. LO’s commander sweated heavily, her face flushed, with dark circles under her eyes.
“Thanks for coming,” she said. At a flick of her head, everyone but Rich moved away. He helped her straighten up, away from the wall. She guarded her side with her hand. “There have been some developments.”
Sh
e’s only got a few hours left, and she’s still taking care of business, Mario thought.
When Smith didn’t continue, Mario’s spidey sense began to tingle. Whatever she had to tell them, it was not good. At all.
Finally, Doug said, “And?”
“They’re from San Jose.”
There was a moment of stunned silence. Then Doug and Miranda began to talk at once.
“They’re from San Jose? How?” Miranda asked.
“How did they even know we’re here?” Doug asked, incredulous.
Mario had thought he was tired, but the wave of exhaustion that hit him now felt like a ton of bricks.
“Of course they are,” he said. He pinched the bridge of his nose, scrunching his eyes shut. “Of course they’re from San Jose. I am so fucking sick of this shit.”
“As to how,” Smith continued, her face filling with…apology? “That’s where Brock comes in.”
For a beat, no one reacted.
“That motherfucker,” Doug growled.
Smith took a step back from Doug’s murderous expression. She lost her balance for a moment until Rich put his hand under her elbow.
“I should have killed him,” Doug snapped. “I should have broken his fucking neck. I should—”
The rage that flared from his friend burned almost as hot against Mario’s skin as the Nature Center fire.
Miranda’s confused voice said, “But what’s the connection? Brock didn’t know who we are. How did he— What the fuck is going on?”
Smith said, “After Brock escaped, he managed to reach out to some friends in P-Land. They helped him hole up and got him a short wave radio. Apparently, when Rocco and Mario arrived after Doug rescued Skye, you,” she said, inclining her head at Doug. “Called Mario by his real name, not by James. Eventually Brock figured it out.”
Mario took a step back, his mind racing. He tried to remember. Sliding to a halt in the door. The broken and out of place furniture. Doug holding Skye, who was half naked and badly beaten, shaking and sobbing uncontrollably. And Brock on the floor behind them, covered in blood, trying to sit up.
Get this piece of shit out of here, Mario, before I change my mind and kill him.
Doug gasped. “Oh my God…” he said, turning to Mario. “Oh my God, I did.”
Doug sagged against the wall. Miranda looked over at Mario, seemingly too stunned to be angry with him.
“Brock’s a horrible person, but he’s never been accused of being stupid. A guy named Mario working on something at the old vaccine institute? It would have been easy to put together after that,” Smith said softly.
Mario shook his head and looked at the commander.
“Well, fuck,” he said.
“Indeed.” She nodded, her voice sympathetic. “You can put together the rest after he got in touch with the people in San Jose. Destroy anything you were working on, kill you all. In return, he would get their vaccine. And Skye.”
Doug’s face filled with a mixture of anger and disgust. “Jesus,” he said.
Mario said bitterly, “They’d promise anything. Life is cheap where we came from.”
“We never thought,” Miranda said. “It was a risk, of course, but we never meant to bring all this down on you. You have to believe—”
Smith interrupted her. “Of course you didn’t. I knew the risks.”
Mario looked at Smith through narrowed eyes. There was something else. “What aren’t you telling us?”
“He has something else to say,” she replied. “But he’ll only tell us if you’re in the room.”
Mario felt everyone’s eyes on him.
“Okay,” he said, the situation getting more surreal by the minute. “Let’s hear it then. I don’t see how it can get much worse.”
In the room beyond the door, a lithe, muscular man sat in a chair. His blond hair was as dirty as his dark-green fatigues.
Doug laughed, low and bitter. “Christ on a bike,” he said. “I’d ask what brings you to this neck of the woods, Victor, but you’ve made that pretty clear.”
The prisoner gave a smug smile. “You’re a hard man to track down, Father Doug. The whole group of you, actually.”
He looked over the three of them before taking a very obvious moment to check out Miranda. Anger flashed through Mario that this would-be assassin was now taking his time to blatantly assess her figure.
“You know him?” Miranda said.
“Yeah,” Doug answered. “Victor’s a Navy piece of shit. I’ve had to deal with him from time to time because of the Missions.”
Mario suddenly found it hard to breathe. They had known since Santa Cruz that the Navy was involved, and they had known the Council wouldn’t give up easily. But to have it confirmed, right in front of his eyes, made the bottom drop out of his stomach. What had happened at home? What had happened to his family?
When he spoke, Mario was shocked at how even his voice was. “What’s your message?”
“This is just a job for me. A contract, you know? Nothing personal. I’ve got no loyalty to the Council.”
Doug muttered, “You’ve got no loyalty to anything.”
Victor shrugged. “Call this a goodwill gesture. Maybe you can keep it in mind going forward.”
“Just say it,” Mario demanded.
“There was a shake-up on the Council after your little caper.” The cadence of the mercenary’s speech was deliberate, almost philosophical. “We were supposed to learn what we could and kill all of you. Destroy anything you were working on, the usual stuff.”
“You sabotaged the sound defenses to draw us out, and then blew up the Nature Center as a distraction,” Smith said bitterly.
“That sound system is really something,” Victor said. “I’ve never seen anything like it.”
“Good people died because of you,” Rich snapped.
Victor shrugged. “Good people are always dying.” He looked at Commander Smith. “We did not count on you, ma’am. If you weren’t about to turn, I would love to pick your brain, because you know what you’re doing. What branch did you serve in?”
Smith looked at Victor like he was a viper. “Fuck you.”
“Air Force is my guess. You have that look,” Victor said before returning his attention to Mario. “Our op got the green light from the Council president. This whole thing was his idea.”
Mario felt the room jerk forty-five degrees. He almost put his hands out to break a fall he was not taking. Cold sweat slicked his body as his chest tightened.
No, he thought, no, no, no, no, no…
“It’s a new guy now,” Victor said. “Dominic Santorello.”
For a moment, nothing happened. Mario took a deep breath, then another, before a roar of white noise overwhelmed him and snowy television static blinded him. He turned away from Victor, breathing fast, unable to get enough air.
“Get him out of here,” Smith said.
Mario heard the door open. Miranda’s voice demanded something. The door slammed shut behind him, and hands pulled him down the corridor. A familiar voice buzzed in his ear, talking to someone else, but he didn’t understand the words.
He looked up at Doug, uncomprehending. He gulped over and over but couldn’t get any air in his lungs. He shook off the man guiding him by the arm. A door with a red ‘EXIT’ sign stenciled on it opened. Mario walked through it, reeling.
“Sit down,” Doug said.
His voice was gentle but brooked no argument. Kind of like how you talked to a dog. Mario looked around, thinking for a moment that Delilah must be with them.
“What?” he gasped, confused.
“Sit.”
Doug pointed his splinted arm to a bench against the building. Mario sat down, dazed, not enough air rasping in and out of his chest. He felt sick, light-headed. Someone else showed up and shoved a paper bag in front of him.
“Breathe into the bag,” Doug said. “Slowly. You’re hyperventilating.”
Mario stuck the bag over his nose and mouth li
ke he had seen in countless movies, breathing in and out as he was told.
It’s a new guy now, Dominic Santorello.
It’s a new guy now, Dominic Santorello.
It’s a new guy now, Dominic Santorello.
His head began to clear. He caught his breath and dropped the bag on the ground. The cool night air felt refreshing against his skin.
“It’s true. I know it’s true.”
“Yeah,” said Doug. “I think it is.”
Mario put his head in his hands. “I actually felt bad, leaving Dom in the shit like that. I knew the rest of the Council would go for him, but there was nothing I could do about it. He would have tried to stop us if he’d known. How the fuck did he end up in charge?”
Doug sat down next to him, his face in shadow. “I don’t know what to say, man. I’m so sorry.”
“Yeah,” Mario said. “Me too.”
His own voice sounded far away. He felt far away. How in God’s name had this happened? He knew his brother was as bad as the rest of the Council, but he was his brother.
But Mario…he’s your brother.
His nana’s voice ran through his head, her Sicilian accent as strong as the day she stepped off the boat. Dragging out his name and ‘brother’ as she implored him to do the right thing—again—when his brother had made a mess that Mario was expected to clean up.
He stood up so fast the head rush made him dizzy. He started walking, not paying attention to the direction he took. He heard Doug speaking to the guy who had walked them out of the building, asking him to follow, in case they had not found every zombie yet.
Zombies, he thought, and laughed. Zombies. Like they were a problem. Like they were even a concern.
Mario didn’t know exactly when his hysteria-tinged laughter turned to sobs, but it was right around the time he realized that Miranda wouldn’t be coming after him and he had to face this alone.
40
The memorial service was held three days later on the grounds of the Boys’ Home. All around her, people wept. Miranda wiped her own eyes and tried to concentrate on what Rich was saying. Except for Tadpole, she hadn’t felt this depressed since the third year in a row of Australian wildfires, when the entire continent was ablaze, and she realized it would be lost to climate change within the decade. Then zombies happened, so maybe it scraped through, minus koala bears and kangaroos.
The Undead Age Series (Book 2): Damage In An Undead Age Page 35