This was my curse in life. I had this other life in my head, and I had to try to find a way to control it, compartmentalize my feelings. I loved K, and I also was in love—was falling in love—with a woman I would never see again. Maria was my secretary at my old job, and now that I didn’t work there anymore, there shouldn’t be a problem. Shouldn’t be… but even though Maria had no idea we ever had a relationship, and in her mind, she was just my secretary, in my mind and emotions, she was more than that.
The elevator opened on the fourth floor, and I made my way down the busy halls looking for room 204. Kirk would be at her side. I knew that he was falling in love with Isis. They were exact opposites, and I wondered if it would work out. Isis was a thin petite woman who was a trained assassin. She could kill without the subject ever knowing she was in the room. She was a master at stealth and one of the most effective assassins in the WJA.
Kirk was a washed-up detective from Detroit and was now sort of working with the WJA as a freelance contractor. He had some bad blood with the WJA and really wanted to find a fatal flaw so he could ruin us, or at least that was the feeling I got.
I saw Kirk walk out into the hallway. When he saw me, his face brightened. Was he happy to see me? Odd… most of the time he just put up with me, and I didn’t blame him. I could be a show off at times, and he was a jerk most of the time. We had a good thing going—he left me alone, and I did the same. It seemed to work out for both of us.
“Mark, thanks for coming. Are you feeling okay?” He looked me up and down and shoved his hands in his pockets.
“Yeah, I’m fine, at least so far. What’s going on?” Kirk wore a white T-shirt and a faded pair of blue jeans. His shirt used to be white but now looked a little closer to cream or a light brown because of overuse.
“Some sort of virus. The Merc building was the center…” Kirk looked into the room behind him. “She’s in a bad way. Not looking good, man.”
“What do you mean a virus? Like, on purpose?” I hadn’t thought about this being an attack on the WJA, but now that I thought about it, I remembered what Taras had said. “You think you can make it out of this alive?” I thought he was talking about the sealed container he had trapped us in together. Was he talking about this virus? Had Taras done this?
“Mark, they’re all dying. Everyone in the Merc building, I mean most everyone, they were all dropping like flies.” I looked at him with a dazed expression on my face.
“You, what about you? You’re fine.”
“So far, we don’t know what it is or when it will strike. We are in the middle of the hot zone now, this hospital is now the worst place to be if you’re healthy.”
I thought back and knew that most viruses had an incubation time. It would not just hit right away; it would take some time to grow in the host. K and Sam could have been exposed. I punched K’s number on speed dial, and she answered on the third ring.
“Hey, baby, how is Isis? Is she okay?”
“I don’t know yet, I just got here. Honey, it’s a mess down here, I want you to stay at home and watch for any sign of illness. You and Sam may have been exposed.” I tried to keep my voice calm but failed.
“What do you mean, ‘exposed’? What’s going on Mark?”
“We think Taras released a virus at the Merc building. Only thing is, if he did, he had to have done it when he was alive or shortly afterward, and that would mean you would have been in the building. Just stay inside, and I’ll keep you updated.”
“Okay, I’ll check on Sam, but I feel fine. Are you—?” Her voice stopped as she asked the question. I didn’t think she wanted to know the answer if it was bad news.
“I’m fine, just stay put. Don’t let anyone in, and don’t get the mail until I get home.”
“Okay, I love you, Mark. Be careful.”
“Always—love you too.” I hung up, and Kirk cursed. “Let’s see Isis.”
***
Kirk showed Mark into the room where Isis was lying hooked up to monitors and tubes. A faint beeping and a sucking sound made Kirk feel like throwing up and running from the room at the same time. Mark didn’t say anything when he saw Isis, and that made him feel worse.
Kirk Weston was a man of few words, and most of the time the words he chose were negative and laced with poison. He hated to be in situations where he didn’t have the upper hand, and it seemed that the WJA had him on his toes all the time. It was one thing after another— kidnapping him, holding him for a year, and (as if that wasn’t enough) suckering him in to help them track down the worst terrorist ever known.
Now he was falling for one of their assassins, and he hated knowing that he couldn’t control her or his feelings for her. He wished she would just blow him off so he could be done with her and the stupid agency.
He cursed under his breath again, sat down at the head of the bed, and took Isis’s smooth, coffee-colored hand. Kirk felt his heart tighten and his mouth grow dry as a boil on her face marred her perfect skin. The boils had exposed themselves about five minutes ago. The doctor had given her something for the pain, and she fell asleep right before Mark showed up.
“How is she? I mean, what did the doctor say?” Mark spoke in a low voice, almost a whisper.
“They say her heart is strong, and that whatever it is…” He thought a moment, not knowing what to say beyond that. Her face and arms looked terrible, and with each passing minute, the boils grew worse. “They don’t know. No one knows what it is or how to stop it. By the time they figure it out, she will be… She will be dead.” He fought back stinging tears but decided it didn’t matter and let them fall.
“Kirk, I’m sorry…” Mark’s voice broke off, and he paced the room. Kirk felt like punching Mark. This was all his fault. If it weren’t for the WJA, none of this would have happened. They provoked the Red Dog, and now they were paying for it with Isis’s life.
“They say that, whatever it is, it’s sucking her dry. She is dehydrated, and even with all the fluids they are giving her, she just gets worse.” Kirk tried to pull himself together. He needed to think, to try to figure this out. For Isis.
“There has to be something at Taras’s condo, some sort of clue. I need to get out of here and find out what this is so I can help. Kirk, keep your phone on, and I will let you know if I find anything.” Mark had a worried look on his face, but Kirk didn’t know if it was because he was worried for his own family or if it was for Isis.
“Okay. Mark…?”
“Yeah?”
Kirk stood up and stepped up close so they were nose to nose. He could feel his anger rise. “You find out what this is, and you fix this! You hear? If she dies…” His voice cracked with emotion. “If she dies, I will pull this world apart to destroy you and the WJA! Do you get me?”
Mark nodded and took the warning like a man. “I won’t let her die, Kirk. I swear to you, I won’t let her die!”
***
Kreios woke from his dream, sat up too fast, and breathed heavily. He looked around in a panic listening for the Brotherhood. He did not hear the sounds of the woodlands or the song of birds as they made their way through the clear sky like unafraid children. His memory of his past, or maybe the past of his ancestors, brought him to the realization that he was not in the woods in his ancient land. He was sitting up in a king-size bed overlooking a long valley with a babbling brook in the bottom that wound its way through the valley and disappeared in the woods beyond.
He tossed the covers off and swung his legs to the floor. He moved with a grace that was almost inhuman. Kreios moved as if the effort of motion was not an effort at all. The bathroom light came on, and he looked at himself in the mirror.
He had thick blond hair that, in natural light, looked white. Not white of old age, but white like goose feathers. His skin was smooth and hard like granite. Muscle-bound arms and a thick neck showed that this man was not only powerful but quick as well. His skin was pale, almost transparent. Kreios splashed cool water in his face and dried i
t with a cream-colored towel.
The mansion was set in the side of a mountain, and the front was not visible from the road or the woods. The small tunnel that led underground would often be mistaken for an old mine shaft and was overlooked over by hikers and hunters when they came upon it.
The back of the great house, on the other hand, had a huge glass wall that looked out to the long, green valley. There was a ballroom and a large kitchen. Although the whole house had three stories with many rooms, all of them were empty. At least they were empty now.
Kreios dressed and began packing a backpack. He was going on a trip, and he would not return for quite some time. He would need some clothes and the essentials, but most of what he needed, he could buy in the city. His home was in the mountains just outside of Sun Valley, Idaho. He and a few others knew of the hidden valley, but that did not matter anymore.
Kreios threw in a set of ID cards, driver’s license, credit card, library card, and passport. He checked to make sure that all the names matched. He used many names but never his own. Kreios was too old a name and would make him memorable.
Kreios finished and made his way into the kitchen for some breakfast. He knew that he had to get the book back, and up until now, whoever had it kept it underground so he could not sense its presence. A few days ago, it began calling him, and now after focusing, he was able to pinpoint its location.
New York City.
He was not looking forward to going back to the big city; he preferred the quiet and the solitude of his home. But this matter would not wait, and he knew that he would not be the only one looking for the book.
He cooked scrambled eggs, bacon, and whole-wheat toast, and he cut a side of fruit. He took a carton of orange juice from the huge stainless steel fridge, poured a tall glass, and downed it in one, long gulp. Kreios ate his meal with slow bites and sat in silence at the granite bar. He stared out at the waterfall that cascaded over the western-facing window. He had built this mansion over the years. He had always wanted to live under a waterfall, and now that he did, he couldn’t think of anywhere he would rather be. Well… that was not true. He could think of one place, but that was another story for another time.
CHAPTER 3
MOOCH OPENED HIS EYES and stared up at the white ceiling tile. He had counted the tiny holes a few times over now and wondered how long it was going to take to get out of this hellhole. Reaching under the covers, he felt his bare chest and touched gingerly the wrapping that covered the place where he had been shot.
He didn’t feel bad this morning, and in some ways, he felt great. He sucked in a tentative breath, and when no pain shot through his ribcage and no gurgling sound escaped his lips, he smiled. This painkiller was some good stuff. He had smoked some high-end weed and shot up a few times, but this was even better than that. The doctors were holding out on him, hording the good stuff under the names of complicated drugs.
He explored the bandages with his fingers and pushed softly, at first. When nothing happened, he pressed harder. Hmmm… It didn’t hurt, not even a little. Daring to look down, he pushed aside the sheets and began to take off his bandages. The white gauze and wrappings were soaked in blood. The blood was somewhat dry now and made the bandages a little stiff and hard to work with.
Mooch found a spork next to his bed on the floating thingy where they put food. He used the spork to help to cut away the cloth and tape.
“This is my gift to you. All I ask is for your obedience and for full control.”
The voice startled Mooch, and he looked toward the door. No one was there. He slowly scanned the room but found that he was alone. It sounded like the voice came from inside his head, as if it were his own thoughts. He remembered having a really weird dream, and, come to think of it, it was scary. He couldn’t remember it all—only that something was in his room and that he was so mad at Kirk Weston.
Kirk Weston. The name brought his blood to boil instantly. He could feel a dark fog move over his brain, and he knew that, somehow, he was not alone anymore. He had been alone his whole life, but now with this… this thing in his mind, it was not altogether a bad feeling.
“We are one now. I will never leave you or forsake you.” Mooch liked the way he said this. It somehow reminded him of Sunday school. His mom used to take him when he was little, before she got hooked on Meth and lost her mind. He still lived in her basement, but she was never home. He saw her three times a year, if that.
Touching his smooth skin and running his fingers over the scars, where just days before bullet holes had been—he marveled. They had completely healed. He could feel his lungs had received the same healing. Was this from God? Was this his chance to start fresh—a new life?
“This is your chance to become a real man, Mooch. You have been kicked around and beat up your whole life and now it is your turn to push back. This is your second chance to make your way, and there is one thing we must do to start this new life.”
“What is that?” Mooch asked aloud.
“You know what we must do…”
Mooch did know, and just the thought of it made him smile with a lopsided grin. He remembered how Kirk left him, how he treated him, and how he hated him. “Kill Kirk Weston!”
“Yes… yes, and then you will be free!”
Mooch tossed back the sheets, found his clothes, and left the room. He walked down the hall just minutes before a van with a CDC logo on the side pulled up in front of the west entrance.
***
I started down the east stairwell but found that the CDC had already closed it off. I couldn’t waste time stuck here, and I had a feeling that whoever was in the building was not getting out for a long time. I ducked into a small room and found that it was a closet filled with lockers like some sort of break room.
I found one locker that was unlocked. Inside was a white lab coat with a nametag attached to the pocket. I pulled it on and left, heading down the elevator. I was not sure what I was going to do once I was on the ground floor.
The elevator doors opened, and I stood looking at a mass of people rushing back and forth. In the midst of the chaos, CDC employees stood at the main doors and attempted to reason with angry and scared patients.
I looked to the right toward the front sliding doors and saw that there was no way to get through. I turned left and hurried through the crowd of people. At the end of each hall, there should be an exit. I pulled the fire alarm as I passed. That really got things moving.
I spotted a yellow CDC guy standing by the door at the end of the hall, and as he looked around for the fire, I saw my chance. An older woman was arguing with him about how keeping them in here to die of smoke inhalation was murder, and I slid by the guy just as he turned to speak to the persistent woman. She yelled at him, and when she saw me go out the door, she said, “Hey, he just left! You let him leave, but we have to stay in here to die?!”
By the time the man turned and opened the door to see what the cranky woman was talking about, I was already around the corner. I spotted an ambulance with an open door as more CDC people milled around outside, doing whatever they did, about one-hundred feet from the ambulance.
I prayed the keys would be in the ignition, and my prayers were answered. With a slam of a door and a twist of the key, I was down the street and on my way downtown within minutes. Police cars were beginning to block off the streets north and south of the hospital. I turned on the lights and siren, and they waved me through—not like I was going to stop anyway.
I weaved through traffic, and as I came up to the Merc building, I stopped in the middle of the street. Up ahead, the street was totally blocked off and the building was wrapped from top to bottom in some sort of plastic. CDC vans lined the sidewalks, police cars pulled behind the vans, and their lights flashed as traffic was diverted to the south.
I turned left and went down to the back of the building. There were not as many police or CDC vans so I figured this would be the best way in. I pulled up and slammed on the breaks so
they would think I was in a hurry. I jumped out and was met by someone in a big yellow suit.
“What took you so long? And why aren’t you suited up?” The man behind the yellow hazmat suit sounded annoyed, and I shrugged as if I wasn’t sure what he was talking about. He pulled on my arm and ushered me to a tent with showers where others were being suited up.
“What is the status?” I asked. I wasn’t sure what to say, all I knew was that I needed to get in, make sure no one found the underground center, and that all the people were up on the main level so they could get help.
The man who ushered me in helped me into a suit and showed me how to operate the respirator. “So far, no casualties, but we need all the help we can get. We found the source, but as of five minutes ago, we still have no idea what we are dealing with.”
“What started all this?” I pulled on the hood and the tall man answered.
“A dead dog sprayed with some sort of airborne toxin. We’re not sure if it’s a virus or if it is just a toxin. Either way, it seems to be contained to the building and Manhattan General. Some idiot brought a girl in, so now we have to contain two sites.”
I nodded and followed him in through a maze of plastic tunnels and two sets of different air locks and showers. When we finally made it into the building, the tall man patted me on the back and stayed at the entrance. I walked through the sliding doors and into a hallway that led to the elevators and beyond the lobby.
I was expecting the place to be much like the hospital, but to my surprise, it was mostly deserted. I nodded to the suited up guard and walked on down the hall and into the main lobby. White cots were lined up, over a hundred people were lying, end to end, on the cots, and the sight made me shudder.
I looked again for anyone I might know but didn’t see anyone… I was worried for Big B and some of the others. I looked out over the scene and noticed that there were only five doctors in hazmat suits. How come so few are helping with so many sick?
IN YOUR DREAMS (Mark Appleton #3) Page 2