by Dana Fredsti
I stood, shaking off a Groundhog Day sense of déjà vu as I wondered for an instant if I was going to pass out again.
“You okay?” Gabriel asked gruffly.
“I think so,” I said, and I meant it. “But I swear, if I friggin’ faint again, I’m gonna change my name to Satine.”
“Huh?”
“Moulin Rouge,” Simone said.
Give the lady a pop culture reference point.
Gabriel gave a small sound that might have become a laugh had it lived a few more seconds. I wonder how many of those things he’d suffocated the moment they were born.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
* * *
We had to go through the med ward to get to the lab. Gabriel marched grimly in front while Simone stayed by my side as I tried my best to keep my gaze straight ahead toward the door at the other end of the room. But the smells and sounds were unavoidable.
I just wanted out.
Out of the corner of my eye I caught sight of a couple of empty cots, blood-and black-bile-soaked sheets the only sign of their former occupants. I stumbled over twisted linen trailing off the end of a cot, and Simone steadied me with a hand under my elbow.
Gabriel immediately dropped back to my other side, ready to catch me should I faint again.
“Are you all right?”
I nodded.
“Just tripped,” I answered. “Let’s just get out of this room, okay?” A line from Ed Wood ran through my head: “You’ve got to get through that door.”
Steeling myself, I took the lead until we were out of the room. Then Gabriel moved to the front again, heading down a hallway, through a door on the left, and down a stairwell. Our footsteps clanged on the metal stairs until we reached the next floor. This door was locked, with a little access pad on the wall next to it. Gabriel pulled a lanyard from around his neck, revealing a plastic card key that had been tucked into his shirt.
One swipe of the card and we were through, entering what looked like a very sterile antechamber. A double door in front of us had a number pad set in the center.
“Pretty tight security for a college campus,” I observed.
Simone nodded.
“You’d be surprised at what you’d find behind the scenes in a lot of places... and not just colleges.”
“I don’t think much of anything would surprise me right about now.” I felt pretty cynical as Gabriel finished punching in a lengthy sequence. The doors opened.
The smell was the first thing to hit me—a nasty-ass stew of diseased blood and rotting flesh, similar to the stink in the med ward. The odor here, however, was wrapped up in a falsely reassuring layer of bleach and antiseptic.
It was a large room, the size of a lecture hall but without theater-style seating. Metal tables all held groaning, moaning, teeth gnashing zombies strapped down at the wrists, ankles, and neck. Tubes and needles were stuck into their bodies at various points. Fluids pumping in and out of rotting flesh.
Hazmat-suit-clad techs, all wearing sidearms, were cutting away thin slices of flesh like Dad carving the turkey at Thanksgiving. Those strips were put under microscopes or into carefully marked containers.
I recognized both the African-American kid and the woman who’d asked me to help her in the med ward. All remnants of humanity were gone from their faces as they writhed against the straps, unmindful as the tough canvas rubbed away skin and flesh.
At the far end of the room were cages, with thick iron bars spaced close together. In those cages were more of the living dead, all jammed up against the bars, trying to shove their hands and arms through the narrow gaps to reach the hazmat-wrapped meals walking around the room.
Those had to be the holding pens.
“What the hell is this?” I whispered to no one in particular. The scope of it all was beginning to sink in, and I didn’t like the feeling.
“Research.” Simone kept her volume low as she answered my question. “Regrettable, but necessary if we’re ever to isolate the root cause or—more importantly—find a cure.”
“So all the people you rescued... they’re just research animals?”
“The ones who don’t make it, yes.” There was pain in her expression, but I couldn’t find it in myself to feel sympathy.
“So if I wasn’t one of your friggin’ wild cards, I’d be strapped to one of these tables getting pieces carved out of me, right?” For some reason, this horrified me—and made me angry—more than anything else I’d seen.
“That’s right, Miss Parker.”
Great. Even through the weird, tinny filter of a hazmat helmet, I recognized General Brasshole’s pompous tone as he strode into the room and stared at me through his plexiglas visor with what I can only describe as a leer of triumph.
“And this is what will happen to your former boyfriend,” he added, “if you don’t cooperate.” That caught me by surprise.
“Exactly what the fuck are you saying?”
“Simply that if you join our group, your boyfriend will be given a swift and painless death.” He smiled, and it was so not a nice smile. “Or to be more accurate, a swift and final death. As far as we can tell, zombies don’t feel pain.”
“And if I don’t join your little militarized knitting circle,” I said with something approaching a snarl, “you’ll use him as a zombified lab rat.”
He smirked and turned to Simone.
“You’re right. She’s not stupid.”
Simone kept her cool.
“No,” she said. “She’s not.”
Gabriel stayed silent throughout all of this, just as you’d expect from a good little soldier. A slight tic in his right cheek was the only sign of emotion.
A sudden, tinny yelp caused us all to jump. A tech was trying to wrestle a glove away from one of the zombies. He had been reaching across its face to adjust something on the other side. It snapped at him and its teeth caught in the glove before he could yank the hand away.
The creature worried the glove like an attack dog. The tech smacked the zombie on the head with his other hand and tugged the glove free, desperately inspecting it for rips in the fabric.
General Heald harrumphed his disapproval.
“That kind of carelessness will get you killed, soldier!”
“With all respect,” the man replied, “I’m not a soldier, sir.”
“No excuse! It’s civilians like you who cost me good men.”
As the General shook his gloved finger in the tech’s face, I turned, catching Simone with a look of eye-rolling exasperation. Gabriel was expressionless.
“Question,” I said quietly. “If this disease isn’t airborne, then why are the suits necessary at all?”
Gabriel broke his silence to answer me.
“You’ve seen the amount of blood and vomit an infected person generates.” I nodded, and he continued. “If it spattered on your skin or clothes, you’d be fine. But get any of it into an open sore, your eyes, or mouth, or accidentally swallow it... well, you might as well have been bitten.”
Simone chimed in.
“During previous episodes the zombie virus was spread solely through bodily fluids that got into mucus membranes or open wounds, mainly via bites and scratches.” A frown crossed her face. “Yet this time, without any such contact, several members of our team have come down with symptoms. Not enough to convince me that it’s gone airborne, but still, it’s worrisome.”
Worrisome. That’s one way to put it.
“So why are we the only ones not wearing protective gear?” I asked.
“Ah,” Simone said. “As wild cards, you and I don’t have to worry about contamination.”
My eyes widened in surprise. So Simone knew what it was like to be bitten by one of those things and survive. My already considerable respect for her shot up another notch.
“What about Gabriel?”
Simone hesitated.
“Gabriel is different.”
No shit.
“That’s one word for it,” I sai
d. Gabriel shot me a look. “I mean, different how?” Before she could answer, General Heald stepped between us.
“Well, Miss Parker?” He moved into my personal space, trying to intimidate me by towering all of two inches above me.
I shot him a deadly look.
“Don’t rush me.”
“We don’t have time to spare. Every moment we lose increases the odds that this epidemic will go global.” He slapped a hand against a nearby table, rattling the metal. “Is it really such a tough decision, Miss Parker? You do the right thing, and your ex will be given a hero’s funeral.
“After all, he died trying to save—” He poked me in the sternum with a forefinger. “—you.
“You owe it to him.”
Oh, you total bastard, I thought. But he was right. Matt died when he came back for me. If he hadn’t, he’d still be alive, instead of rotting in his Levis.
Still, if the General poked me again, I’d break his finger.
I looked at the cages, wondering if one of them held what was left of Matt. A greenish-gray hand thrust its way between two bars. Was that Matt’s class ring on one rotting finger?
“Is...” The words caught in my throat. “Is he in here?”
“Oh, yes,” Heald said grimly. “Would you like to see him?” The bastard was enjoying this, and totally expecting me to say “no.”
Simone had had enough.
“General, I don’t see how this is necessary—”
“Yes,” I said.
They both looked at me in surprise.
“Ashley, are you sure?” Simone put a hand on my arm.
I nodded.
“I want to see Matt,” I said. “I need to. Then I’ll make my decision.” Part of me wanted to do it out of machismo, just to show Heald that I could take it. Another part of me needed to say good bye. And I needed to know what I was up against. To know what it was like to see someone I cared about come back as one of those things, and really feel it. It would help me decide what to do, although I already had a pretty good idea what my answer would be.
“Fine then,” the General said brusquely. “Right this way, Miss Parker.” He waved his hand toward the cages. I slowly moved past him, once again looking neither left or right so I wouldn’t see the Mengele-esque experiments on the tables.
Heald trailed after me, no doubt wanting to see my face when I saw Matt again. I held up a hand.
“No way,” I said. “You stay back here.”
“Miss Parker,” he replied with deadly calm, “you do not give the orders around here!”
“If you ever want me to obey any orders, especially yours, you’ll back off and give me my space.”
Heald drew in a breath, but Gabriel stepped in front of him.
“I’ll show her, sir,” he said. “It’s safer for me.” His tone was respectful, but I got the feeling he wouldn’t back down if challenged.
“I suppose you’re right.” Heald sounded pissed, though, as if agreeing gave him indigestion. “Just make it quick.”
Choke on it, pal.
CHAPTER TWELVE
* * *
Gabriel took me by the arm, his hand right above my elbow, and led me to the back of the room.
We stopped in front of the cage farthest from the lab entrance and stood a good three feet away from the bars. As we did so, agitated moans filled the air. A capture pole rested on the wall next to the cage, the hook end spattered with blood.
“Is he in there?” Stupid question. I just wanted to put off the moment of truth a few seconds longer.
Gabriel shook his head.
“No,” he said. “It is in there. It’s not Matt any more. Try and remember that. It’ll make things easier if you can avoid humanizing them.”
I bit my lip and turned to the cage. The size of a large closet, it contained four zombies, all male. The way they all focused on me, hands clutching between the bars, pupils what I’d come to recognize as Corpse Dead White.
The latest Crayola crayon color.
His point seemed like a good one, especially as Matt stared at me with those dead eyes, no recognition there whatsoever. Every bit of personality had left the building. And yet... even though his only expression was mindless hunger, he still looked enough like himself that it hurt my heart to see him.
It.
Shit, I couldn’t do this. No way I could let what remained of Matt end up on one of those cold metal tables. There might not be anyone home, but what had been there had died trying to save me.
As though he read my mind, Gabriel suddenly leaned in close and spoke quietly in my ear.
“It’s not true, Ashley.”
I looked up at him, startled.
“Huh? What’s not true?”
“The General was lying to you. Matt wasn’t coming back to save you.” He kept his voice pitched low so no one else would hear him.
“What do you mean?” My volume rose slightly and Gabriel’s hand tightened on my arm, eyes flicking back toward the General. I dropped my voice and continued. “I heard him call my name when he was running back toward me.”
“Ashley, the only reason he was heading back in your direction was that a half dozen zombies were blocking his escape route.”
“You’re lying.” Even as I said this, I knew Gabriel had no reason to lie, at least not about this. But I still didn’t want to believe him.
“Stay back from the bars,” he said loudly. “They can reach through if they try hard enough.” He dropped his voice back down. “I’m not lying. And you shouldn’t think badly of him either for running away. Not everyone can handle it. Matt panicked. Wasn’t thinking clearly. Otherwise he wouldn’t have left you to begin with.”
“Why are you telling me this?” I asked. “I mean, what’s the point?”
He peered closely at me.
“You deserve to make your decision based on the truth. And the thing in this cage... it’s not Matt any more. There’s nothing left of him but a rotting shell. It won’t know you, or thank you for saving it from the vivisectionist’s knife.”
I searched those denim blue eyes for any sign of a hidden agenda. Either he was the world’s best liar, or Gabriel was being straight with me.
“Is it vivisection if they’re already dead?” The words came out without thought. Weird, the things that pop into your head in times of stress.
Gabriel took it in stride.
“Now you’re getting into philosophy.”
I looked at Matt again, wondering if I’d have gone back for him, if the situation had been reversed. I think I would have. Did that make me braver than him, or just stupid?
Either way, I still knew what I had to do.
And apparently the General had reached the limits of his patience, which was approximately that of a two year old with attention deficit disorder.
“Well, Miss Parker?” he said, stepping up from behind. “Do you like what you see?”
I will remember all of this, I thought. And I will pay back this shitty excuse for a man. Pay back for all of it.
I looked up at him.
“Now that you’re here, no,” I replied.
I turned my back on him and stared at Matt, remembering our times together. It’s not like I’d thought we’d end up married or anything. If asked whether or not I loved him, I’d probably have said no. But he’d been a decent boyfriend, and had done a lot to help me heal my trashed self-esteem.
He didn’t deserve this.
“I’m sorry, Matt,” I said softly.
The zombie cocked its head as if it understood me, and that freaked me out. It shoved one hand through the bars, ignoring or unaware of the skin sloughing off as it reached for me. I knew better than to react.
General Brasshole, however, did not. He reached past me and smacked the hand with his gloved fist.
“Looks like your boyfriend wants to hold hands, Miss Parker.”
I’d had enough. I rounded on him, grabbing him by the front of his hazmat suit.
“W
hat exactly are you trying to accomplish by being a total prick?” I demanded. “Piss me off?” He tried to push me away, but I was too strong. “Well, good job!” I continued, my voice rising. “But with an asshole like you in charge, why the hell would I want to join your team?”
Gabriel grabbed my arms while the General helplessly—and furiously—thrashed in my grasp. He did his best to pull me off Heald without hurting me. Several techs tried to pry my hands away.
“Ashley, let go!”
I registered Simone’s voice even through the curtain of red that had descended on me. Don’t ask me why, but for some reason I listened to her and dropped Heald as swiftly as I’d grabbed him. The techs caught the jerk before he fell against the cage.
Gabriel pulled me backward, holding me in case I decided to go for it again. He needn’t have bothered; all of my rage-fueled energy evaporated and I sagged against him, sick at heart and exhausted in mind, body, and spirit.
His grip changed from restraining to supporting almost immediately.
“Are you all right?” Simone put a hand on my forehead. “You’re running a fever again. You need to be in bed.”
“Bed?” Even through the distortion of the helmet I could hear the icy rage in Heald’s voice. “The little bitch needs to be put in one of these cages!” He shook off the techs and straightened up, either ignoring or unaware of several pairs of zombie hands pawing at him through the bars. Fingers grazed his hazmat suit without finding purchase.
“While I don’t condone it, her attack on you was provoked,” Simone said with forced calm. “This girl has been through hell, and cannot be expected to adjust to the situation instantly. She needs time.”
“Time is a luxury we don’t have, Professor Fraser.” Heald glared at me. “Get it through your little Barbie head, Miss Parker. These things are a threat to the human race.” He seized the capture pole from its resting place against the wall, thrusting the business end into the cage and into the nearest zombie.