The X Factor

by Bella Street

  She gripped the edges of the sink, struggling to maintain her composure. How sick was it that she still wanted him after everything that had happened? But even going back to the status quo was looking like a pipe dream at this point.

  Seffy studied the woman staring back at her with bleak eyes. Of course Gareth wouldn't want her now. The front she presented to the world had all but disappeared. New and Improved Seffy was gone, a grim fact that her torn, designer tracksuit and two-tone hair couldn't hide. If we get back to WeHo, if I put myself back together, would he want me then?

  The girl in the mirror shook her head. Too late. He's already seen the real you.

  Seffy bit her lip. If only I hadn't told him about those directors, if only I hadn't hooked up with Clay.

  If only.

  Now there was a list too long to contemplate.

  Seffy made a face at her reflection, knowing there was nothing she could do about it anyway. She had enough to deal with just staying alive. With a last disillusioned look at the girl in the glass, she turned and left the bathroom.

  Seffy's stomach rumbled and she wondered how to delicately ask for some food. Trent was sitting on the side of the bed, his head in his hand. She wanted to reach out to him, but didn't have a clue how. After being at each other's throat for the length of their short acquaintance, this new civil vibe to their dubious relationship would take some getting used to.

  When she joined him on the bed, he looked up at her.

  “All ready,” she said, trying to sound cheerful—and failing miserably.

  Trent held out the pistol he'd taken from one of the guards.

  Seffy put up her hands. “I surrender.”

  He placed it on the mattress between them. “I want you to keep this with you.”

  She stared at the handgun. It was silver with a black handle. “You know I couldn't shoot anyone.”

  “You shot Popov. I saw what was left of his brains.”

  Another memory to hold near and dear. She shivered. “Okay, so in a moment of extreme stress I defended myself against a murderous, pre-zombie. What you're suggesting is that I use it against compound people. Regular people.”

  “They've already tried to kill you twice.”

  Distressingly true. “C'mon, you've wanted to kill me a couple of times.”

  Trent picked up the gun and pressed it into her palm. “It's loaded and chambered. You just point and pull the trigger. And if you can't aim for the head, try a kneecap, at least. Okay?”

  Seffy didn't want to think about an armed confrontation. She wanted to get some food and sleep for hours. “Why can't I have the Kalashnikov?”

  A reluctant smile quirked his lips. “You want it?”

  “Nah. You go ahead.”

  Trent exhaled and returned his head to his hand.

  “Maybe you should get some rest.”

  He scrubbed his hair. “No, I just have a bad feeling I can't shake. I don't know how those men found this room in the first place. Fiona assured me—”

  “Fiona?” Seffy snorted. “Are you joking?”

  “Well, I couldn't exactly ask her boyfriend for help, him being a prisoner just like us and all.”

  “When did you talk to her?”

  “Before all this went down.”

  “So, what, you got into a conversation about where to hide when the source of the zombies was exposed?”

  Trent's expression hardened, making him look more like the guy she remembered. “Obviously not.”

  “Still, Fenn and Fiona are nothing alike, so that's your clue. He's fairly decent but weak and she's just a sneaky bi—”

  “I started asking questions of some of the staff about how things worked around here and she got involved, trying to head me off at the pass,” Trent said. “But I was still able to extract information from her, primarily that this section of the compound had a lot of hiding places.”

  “What you're saying is that we've been basically herded into this area for capture. Great.”

  “Sef, she couldn't have known then what would happen in the basement of the compound. Besides, it's not like I had a lot of people to choose from.”

  “And here I thought you had all these inside contacts.”

  “They're good for some things, but when you need to know secrets, you go to the top.”

  “So why didn't you talk to Fenn?”

  “You said it yourself. He's weak. Fiona is obviously the one with the stones to run this place.”

  “Ew.” She shook her head trying to dislodge the idea of Fiona with—never mind. “Well, now you know why this room was searched. Fiona had some reason for telling you about this room.”

  A muscle jumped in his jaw. “It could be a coincidence.”

  Seffy stood and jammed the gun into the pocket of her sweatshirt. She looked around the room, wondering if there was a built-in comm unit like she'd seen in a few other compound rooms. Nothing obvious jumped out at her. Maybe the unit was hidden? “Where's that paper you had earlier?”

  “Why?”

  “Do you still have it?”

  He sighed and dug in the backpack, then handed her the paper and a pen. Seffy scratched out a sentence and handed it back to him. I think they're able to hear us somehow.

  He read it and looked up at her, his eyes disbelieving. Then he shook his head, wrote his own note and handed it back. You watch too many spy movies. They wouldn't just bug the place and let us get rested up before coming back to attack.

  Seffy sighed and wrote on the paper. I don't watch any spy movies. Maybe they want to lull us into a false sense of security. It makes the most sense. Let's take our chances somewhere away from here.

  Trent took the pen. Then why didn't they come back when we were asleep?

  Her turn. Wanna bet they bugged the room when we were in the attic, then after listening for a while, they got scared of me and my disease?

  He shook his head.

  She sighed. Think about it—maybe the guards were ordered to retrieve us, but they heard us talking about my goopy wound and then decided to regroup when they could deal with me without exposing themselves.

  His mouth twitched as he wrote: You're right, the guards are probably more afraid of you than you are of them, especially after hearing the rundown of your gruesome symptoms. But still, your theory is thin. It's more likely that the people who've been experimenting on you are telling them to hold off for some reason. Or maybe our friends escaped and took back control of the compound.

  She snatched the paper from him. Either way, someone could still be listening and making plans.

  He stared at her, considering. We can't try and leave in case they're waiting outside the door. And you're in no condition to go climbing through the ductwork. You'll hyperventilate yourself to death.

  She took the pen from his hand. I'm in no condition to do anything but go to the spa and be pampered back to recovery.

  He laughed softly and wrote: I'll be your maseusse.

  She bit her lip against a grin. You spelled masseuse wrong.

  Trent smiled in his usual mocking way.

  The moment of levity faded before the specter of someone listening in with evil intent. Seffy got up and felt along each of the walls before returning to the bedside nightstand. Then she spotted the lamp on the nightstand. No, it would be too easy. She picked it up and saw the little metal bug just under the shade. “Unbelievable,” she whispered.

  Trent came over and looked at it. He closed his eyes in concession.

  “I told you!” she said in a low voice.

  He ran his hand through his already messy hair.

  Time to practice her nascent acting skills. Seffy caught his eye and took a deep breath. “I'm telling you we need to leave now. I mean leave the compound. It sounds like the zombies have been neutralized, so I say we take our chances on the outside.”

  Trent regarded her for a moment. “What about our friends?”

  “We'll go for help and come back here later.”

/>   “I don't know. It's way risky.”

  “So is sitting here waiting to be captured.”

  Trent paused, watching her. “Let's compromise. There's no way you can do this yet.”

  “But—”

  “Tomorrow at the earliest. Your symptoms are flaring up and you've got to get some rest.”

  “What if you get sick because of me?”

  His eyes flashed. “I guess it's a risk I'm willing to take.”

  Seffy bit her lip, wondering if he was just being dramatic. “Okay. But first thing tomorrow morning.”

  “Well, I'm not going to wake you up if you're dead to the world.”

  “Or...if I'm just plain dead.”

  Trent frowned at her words. “You need to think positive. Just because everyone else exposed to the virus has died horribly, maybe you'll be the one who beats it.”

  Seffy injected a tearful note into her voice—not a difficult task. “Not likely.”

  “Listen, why don't you catch a shower and we'll figure out our next plan of action after that.”

  “Okay.”

  He stood with his hands on his hips, a chagrined look on his face. “Save some hot water for me.”

  “Sure thing.”

  Trent grabbed the paper and scribbled. Think they'll buy it?

  She shrugged, fighting a sense of foreboding. When do we leave?

  After a KitKat break. He rummaged in the backpack and handed her a chocolate bar. She didn't open it until she saw him with one of his own. It wouldn't do to starve him, seeing that he was trying to save her and all. After she ate the candy, she walked into the bathroom to complete the charade. Once the shower water was turned on all the way, Trent entered and stood next the sink. She shut the door and turned to him.

  “I can't believe it,” he said in a low voice.

  Seffy attempted to lighten the mood. “Seriously, did you see how huge that bug was? I don't know much about electronic listening devices but I do know they're way smaller and cooler in the future.”

  “That's not what I mean. I should've thought of this possibility.”

  “Well, I did. Think of it as a boon to my battered self-esteem. Seriously, how many times have I had to be rescued? It's lame.”

  “It's the way it's supposed to be.”

  She rolled her eyes. “You're obviously sexist. You should be more in touch with your feminine side.”

  “That was in the 90s. In the new millennium, it's he-man all the way.”

  “Then I'm supposed to be a She-Ra type. But no one would believe me if I tried.”

  “Just let me do the rescuing and don't worry about it.”

  She sagged against the wall. “Frankly, I'd prefer that. But I'll be thought of as weak and not girl-powery.”

  He snorted softly. “Trust me, you have plenty of girl-power...in all the right places.”

  Seffy ignored that last part. “I wish I did get a superpower like Lani talked about. I mean, if someone is going to survive a time warp and possible radiation, they should get one, right?”

  “So you don't think surviving not one but two zombie virus exposures is a superpower?”

  Her smile was wry. “I was kind of hoping for something more butt-kickish. You know, a martial arts ability?”

  Trent touched the gun in her pocket. “This is the way you kick butt.”

  Her eyes widened. “Wait a minute! The bug people heard that we have the guns!”

  “They already knew that.”

  “Oh.” The bathroom was beginning to steam up, but the warmth felt good. “So, what's the plan?”

  Trent's smile disappeared. “It's not a good one. You're really not up to it.”

  “Trent, I'll do what I have to do. I cannot go back to that exam room from hell.”

  “That's never going to happen.”

  Seffy wished she could have faith in his conviction, but they were outnumbered by five hundred to two. They had to assume no one could be trusted. Not until Fenn was released anyway—if he was indeed still locked up. She sure hoped Trent had a plan for that.

  He sighed. “Here's the thing, we go back up into the crawl space until we can find a different hallway.”

  Oh, no. Seffy tried not to show her anxiety at the thought. “There's no other way?”

  “We have to assume that someone will be guarding the outer door.”

  “But we have guns,” she said.

  “If we get into a firefight, it will just bring more of them. I think stealth will buy us more time.” He put his hand on her arm. “If you start feeling like you can't breathe up there, we'll just drop into whatever room we're over until you recover.”

  “How will we know which room is which? Do you have the layout?”

  “No, I'm gonna have to guess for the most part.”

  “This is insane.”

  “Maybe, but it's also our only option.”

  Seffy drew in a silent breath, trying to steady her nerves. “Okay, I'm ready.”

  He squeezed her arm. “You're lying.”

  “Pretty much.”

  Trent stepped closer and looked her in the eye. “I promise that I will do everything in my power to keep you safe.”

  She returned his look, knowing that if the words had come from Gareth, she'd believe them. “Why?” At Trent's confused expression, she said, “Why protect me? You once wished I'd become a zombie so I'd know what it felt like to have my head blown off.”

  Trent lowered his eyes for a moment. “I was upset about what happened to Clay. And then I had some bad...stuff I was going through. Plus, I didn't like you at first. At all.”

  Seffy arched her brows. “Well, that implies that you like me now.”

  He gave her a tight smile. “Let my actions prove my feelings and we'll leave it at that for the time being.”

  She tried to stiffen her spine. “Okay.”

  “So, you're ready?”

  “Doesn't sound like I have a choice.”

  Chapter Five

  Trent hoped he was doing the right thing. He strained his eyes in the dirty gloom of the crawl space, chafing at the slow pace needed to avoid bumping ductwork that could give their location away. Every few minutes, he checked over his shoulder to make sure Seffy was keeping up. He could tell by her plodding movements she was struggling.

  “How are you doing back there?” he whispered.

  Seffy coughed in response, probably from the all the dust they were stirring up. She hoped it was just dust and not asbestos. Or something worse.

  Trent tried to calculate how far they'd gone—maybe five hallway lengths—and hoped he was heading west. It would have been easier if the layout of the compound was more straightforward. On the other hand, the tunnels, inner rooms, and rabbit warren of crawl space trails were giving them half a chance to make it out alive.

  Fenn, Gareth, and the others were still in the east wing which would have the heaviest security presence. If he and Seffy could at least get to another safe room where she could really rest and eat more than candy bars, Trent felt he'd be able to leave her in order to get help and rescue the others. No problem, right?

  He checked his watch. They'd been moving for close to an hour. Seffy had to be fading. Last time she'd only made it thirty minutes and then, she'd been laying still. She coughed again. He stopped and angled himself around—just in time to see her collapse in a swirl of dust.

  Trent cursed and scrambled to her side. “Seffy, c'mon. Wake up.” She coughed weakly but her eyes rolled back in her head. He quickly scanned the area and saw the tiles that covered a room. Hoping for an empty room to hide out in, he grasped the first one and slid it to the side. Trent leaned his head down through the opening and saw an older couple staring up at him in shock.

  Damn.

  “I'm gonna need some help.” Trent moved another tile, then dragged Seffy's inert body over to the hole. “I'm going to hand a girl down to you. She's unconscious.”

  “What's going on?” the man demanded, his voice revealing
anger mixed with fear. “Who the hell are you?”

  Panic rising, Trent ignored him and pushed Seffy's legs through the hole and began to lower her through the opening. “Grab her legs, quick!”

  He was relieved when the man reached up to help. The woman joined him. With his hands under her arms, Trent stretched out on his stomach, gasping in the dusty air, until he sensed the man taking the bulk of Seffy's weight. “Do you have her?”

  “I think so!”

  The woman reached up to support Seffy's shoulders and head as Trent released her. Together they held Seffy awkwardly between them. Trent lowered himself through the hole and dropped onto the floor. He took Seffy in his arms and asked if he could lay her on their bed.

  The woman exchanged glances with the man then rushed ahead and opened a bedroom door. Trent breezed past her and put Seffy onto her side on the mattress. Her pallor alarmed him. No matter what, he couldn't allow her to slip into a coma. There might be no getting her back.

  Trent shook her. “Seffy, wake up!” He shook her harder.

  No response.

  Trent turned to the couple. “Do you have an ammonia inhalant or something I could use to get her to wake up?”

  The woman hurried from the room and returned with an ampoule, presumably from their compound-issue First Aid kit. Her eyes wide with fear, she snapped it apart and held it in front of Seffy's nose.

  The odor made Trent's eyes water, but Seffy began to cough and stir. He pushed her hair away from her face and patted her cheek. C'mon, c'mon, c'mon.

  “Her eyes are open!” the woman said.

  Seffy swallowed hard and twisted her head until she was looking up at Trent. It wasn't until that moment he realized his hands were shaking.

  “Trent?” Seffy's voice came out as a thready whisper. At least this time she didn't say 'Gareth'.

  He looked up at the couple. “Would it be possible to get a glass of water?”