Mabe (Earth Resistance Book 5)

by Theresa Beachman

  Sarah shook her head. “No. We need to take it to the Chittrix. Like right inside. It needs to be injected into their lymphatic system.” She huffed a breath. “It kills everything I throw at it, but there’s no guarantee it will work on a real live Chittrix.”

  “And if it worked?” Artem unfolded his arms, his earlier snark dwindling as he processed the implications.

  “We would infect Chittrix so they can take the infection back to the hive and spread it to the wider population.”

  Jacob scrubbed a hand over his face. “And how do we do that? No one’s ever caught a Chittrix, I mean why the hell would they? And I presume we need to catch it to infect it?”

  “Yes.” Sarah ran a finger along her collar. Was it her imagination or was the room hot?

  “What you are suggesting is crazy.” Jacob’s tone was final.

  Mabe shifted on his feet. “Just because it’s not been done doesn’t mean it can’t be done.”

  Sarah continued before she chickened out. “And we have to capture it alive, so it can take the infection back to the hive.”

  “Alive?” Jacob scratched his head. “Like still canting about on its legs?”

  “Yes.” God, yes. What she was proposing was crazy, but was there any other way? “Alive.”

  “There are a lot of maybes here, but right now—” Diana gestured at their one working camera. The fuzzy shot of Scutters, their claws a blur of motion. “Right now, it’s our chance to hurt them. There are only a few Chittrix out there, we can separate and isolate one, on our terms.”

  This represented everything Sarah had worked on. The culmination of nights hunched over her microscope while everyone else slept. Pushing to collect botanical samples from close to the hive when everyone else did everything to stay as far away as possible. She blew out a breath.

  “It’s worth giving this a shot.” Mabe. “All of us are close to the wire. It’s the same in our community. We’re running out of options. We have the Sweeper.” He pointed at the acoustic weapon. “But its charge is limited. We kill them in pockets at a time. It’s not enough, they reproduce faster than we can kill them. We need something to do the work for us. To spread and multiply inside their hives.”

  Sawyer leaned back in a chair, kicking his boots up on a table. “Show us.”

  A deep dent formed between Diana’s eyes, but she didn’t admonish him. She had everything riding on these men.

  Sarah looked at Mabe. A bubble of lightness lifted within her. Hope. He represented hope.

  She crossed to one of the keyboards and with a few clicks accessed her workstation and brought up the image on the main screen that filled the far wall. “Right at the beginning when there were so many dead on the streets, we had time to study their anatomy before their body acids dissolved any corpses.”

  A rotating image of a Chittrix filled the screen. She walked across to the life-sized image hovering above her. The barbed pincers, the elongated limbs, the powerful wings and lethal bite. The perfect killing machines. She touched the wall, the shadow of her finger indicating a point low on the abdomen. “Here at the bottom of the thorax, the meat is soft. There’s a gap in their body armor. The perfect point for entry into their lymphatic system.”

  She turned to face the room, her team, all of them. “Theoretically, we could pin one down and inject it, but I don’t know how long this virus will take to work. So, the only way we will know if it works is if we keep hold of the Chittrix for at least twenty-four hours. That should be long enough for us to see if it’s effective.”

  “What?” Artem paced toward Diana. “Are you hearing this? And where exactly are we going to hold one of these fuckers?”

  Mabe stiffened, his hand hovering over at his hip.

  Sarah pointed to the floor, eager to deflect. There wasn’t time for a testosterone fistfight. “Here. In the viral containment vault. It’s designed to withstand a direct hit from a megaton bomb.”

  “Viral vault?” Artem’s pallor was ashen. “You mean here? Literally here, where we live?”

  “Yes.” Sarah answered, her tone far more level than she was feeling. Catching a Chittrix seemed as improbable as walking to the moon. But somehow, with Mabe’s steady gaze watching her from across the room, anything seemed possible.

  Sawyer removed his boots from the desk and walked up to the main screen, scrutinizing the rotating Chittrix. “It’s all we can do to kill one.” He rubbed his chin. “How we are meant to subdue one long enough to infect it without harming it, so it can return to the hive?”

  “We could freeze it.”

  Everyone looked at Mabe.

  Sarah sucked in a breath. “Insects die if exposed to low temperatures, but many are freeze-tolerant and can survive being frozen. You can freeze them and then thaw them. It’s like putting them into stasis.” She clapped her hands and smiled at him. How had she not thought of that? “Brilliant.”

  “Freezing is all very well.” Foster jabbed a finger at the ceiling. “But it’s summer outside.”

  Mabe’s voice was level. “Carbon dioxide.”

  Foster looked doubtful. “Carbon dioxide?”

  “Yes.” Sarah pointed to a red canister secured to the wall. “There are full fire extinguishers all over the building. They’ve been gathering dust for the past eighteen months. We use them to freeze the Chittrix into stasis. Then inject it with the virus.” She swallowed. God, this sounded crazier by the minute.

  Foster grinned. “Sounds fucking insane. I’m in.”

  18

  Sarah rolled the fire extinguisher along the corridor, attempting to steer it as it clanged off walls, chipping paint and plaster. Crap. She lugged the weight into her arms, deciding she’d be quicker just carrying it. The air was cool, but her back was damp with sweat, her forehead smarting with heat. The room wavered, zooming in and out of focus, forcing her to drop the extinguisher, the noise coming from a very long way off.

  A gloved hand folded over hers.

  Mabe.

  And then another cupped around her shoulder blades, preventing her from tumbling to the ground.

  She staggered slightly to the side, needing to put a little distance between them. His nearness unraveled her thinking, which she couldn’t afford.

  Her reluctant tongue formed words. “I’m fine.” God, when did speaking become such an effort?

  “When did you last eat?” Concern laced his deep voice.

  She shook her head. Really, she had no idea. Her memory was blurry with fatigue. In the last few weeks, research had consumed hours of her time, leaving her exhausted and with no appetite for the dry rations they were now surviving on. “I’m not sure.”

  She dropped to her knees and rested her knuckles on the cool floor, waiting for the dizziness to pass.

  “Right, that’s it. Come here.” Strong arms lifted her from where she was kneeling, scooping her up in one swift lift.

  “What the hell are you doing?” She squawked in protest and pushed against the arms locked around her. But they might as well have been stone for all the difference it made. He’d removed his body armor and the heat of his body burned through the worn fabric of his shirt. His scent enveloped her, earthy, like wood smoke. Muscles bunched under her arms and the back of her knees, as he carried her across the sparse room and deposited her in a chair with infinite care.

  He took a knee in front of her. God, he was enormous. Up close, he was even more of a bear. Above the wild beard, intelligent eyes studied her, sweeping loose hair from her cheek, resting the back of his hand against her forehead to check her temperature. Shoulders broader than they had any right to be, blocked her view of the room. He surrounded her, his presence saturating every one of her senses.

  Imposing muscles worked in his forearms as he dug around in his pockets, and foil rustled as he held something out to her. When she met his gaze, there was tenderness. Heat flushed the back of her throat, making it hard for her to swallow. Survival was so hard, there wasn’t time to look at anyone like tha
t, was there?

  Tenderness infused his voice. “It’s all I have.” He thrust it into her hand. “Eat.”

  She looked down at a granola bar.

  “I know it’s only granola.” He lifted a shoulder. “Foster’s the one who finds all the chocolate.”

  His kindness made her throat clog, making her voice sound weird and two-toned. “Thank you.” She shot him a smile.

  “It does have chocolate chips.” His reply was earnest.

  She peeled back the wrapper and bit into it. Sweetness, a taste from the past, exploded in her mouth. She closed her eyes to savor the sensation, allowing the chocolate to dissolve on her tongue. When she opened her eyes, she asked him. “Why are you doing this?”

  He cocked his head. “We all benefit if the Chittrix—”

  “No, not that. This.” She held up the bar and took another nibble. More sugar seeped into her bloodstream, bolstering her confidence.

  “You looked like you needed it.” His gaze darkened and snagged on her mouth.

  A metallic crash echoed from outside in the corridor, making her jump, and a tirade of blazing expletives followed, pounding through the wall.

  His expression was serious, the moment of heat gone. Except now, she didn’t even know if she’d imagined it.

  “Eat all of it. You need some color in your cheeks.”

  She took another bite. “Out of date chocolate tastes fantastic.”

  A smile.

  Her heart skipped a beat as she caught a crumb on her lip with her tongue. “You look a lot less scary when you smile.”

  Something flickered across his eyes.

  “Sorry, I didn’t mean to offend you—” God, he was going to think she was rude.

  But he shook his head. “No, it’s not you.” He stared at the floor, his powerful shoulders caving under the weight of his thoughts. “Someone else used to say the same thing.”

  “Someone?” The word fell from her lips before she could stop it. She clapped a hand across her mouth. “Sorry, ignore me. Terminally nosy.”

  A pained smile touched the corners of his mouth. “It’s okay. It’s—” He shook his head and scratched the back of his head as he searched for the right words. “Lissy used to say that whenever I visited. Right up until—” He blew out a breath.

  Sarah bit her lip, as if that could bring her words back. “I’m so sorry.”

  “Don’t be. It’s just the way things are now.”

  She folded the empty wrapper in her hand as his words settled in her mind. Everyone had lost so much, not just her. Above her head, bones lay, stripped bare by the Chittrix and the elements. Mabe had lost his sister and niece. Had she been too caught up in herself to see she was no different to anyone else?

  “We should get back to the others.” He stood up, pressing his hands against thick thighs to stand, stepping away from her. He kicked at one of the fire extinguishers, running a hand across the top of his head as it rolled across the floor.

  Sarah climbed back onto unsteady legs. The blurred edges of her vision had retreated. She reached for his wrist without thinking. “Mabe.”

  He spun on his heel, turning to face her, closing the gap between them till they were only inches apart. She froze, breathless as his nearness ricocheted through her body. His gaze bore into her, as if he was on the brink of reading her mind.

  “You have more color in your cheeks now.” The set of his jaw tightened as he curved his hand across the top of her shoulder, firing sparks across her skin.

  A door slammed, and she startled backward, her hand flying to her throat. Mabe was a blur, his handgun aimed at the door.

  “Whoa.” Foster stood in the doorway; his hands raised. “I come in peace.”

  Mabe shook his head and lowered the weapon. “Maybe knock next time.”

  Foster grinned. “Didn’t realize I was interrupting anything.”

  Mabe rolled his eyes and holstered his gun. “Ignore him. His mouth has no boundaries.”

  Foster picked up two fire extinguishers. “That’s why everyone loves me.” He headed out the door, winking at Sarah over his shoulder.

  She didn’t need to see the red splotches high on her cheekbones. They were burning through her skin to the bone. She hoisted an extinguisher onto her shoulder and followed Foster out of the room, slipping Mabe an apologetic smile. He watched her go, his eyes dark and unreadable.

  Damn. She licked her lips. What would have happened if Foster hadn’t come barging in? Would he have kissed her? If she was going to die anyway, what did she have to lose? Maybe she should grab what joy she could before it was too late?

  She gave herself a mental shake. They were busy making this plan, and she didn’t even know if it would work. She couldn’t lose her focus. That was how she would end up dead. How they would all end up dead if they weren’t careful.

  Whatever this was between her and Mabe, it couldn’t happen.

  She hurried up the corridor after Foster, tucking away the memory of what had nearly not happened.

  She could treasure that.

  19

  Mabe surveyed the Chittrix on the outside surveillance camera with Foster. Overnight the Scutters had gone, their digging abandoned, but a small squad of Chittrix had taken up permanent residence in the parking lot. Waiting.

  His mind was half on it; the other half was still bumped up close to Sarah, breathing in her unique scent. He hadn’t wanted to let her go. He’d wanted to taste that sweet mouth, pop the buttons on that damn shirt of hers, starting at the base of her throat where the beat of her pulse called to him, right down to the worn fastening at the top of her pants.

  “Fuckers are making themselves comfortable.” Foster peered at the grainy footage. “And they’ve left a surveillance team. Planning on sitting us out.”

  Mabe blinked, his mind dragged back to reality. “How do they know we don’t have another exit?”

  “They don’t.” Foster rubbed at the shadow where his eyebrow had once lived. “I’ve seen them wait for weeks. Their patience is limitless.” He squinted at the screen again. “I reckon their brains are tiny. They never get bored or fidgety.” He turned to Diana. “Is this the best you can do? The image is rubbish. It’s impossible to tell how many of them are out there.”

  A tiny muscle pulsed in Diana’s jaw and her lips parted as if she was about to speak but then thought better of it. She shook her head. She was doing well. Mabe had seen lesser mortals lose it in less than five minutes when dealing with Foster’s refined bluntness.

  Jacob spoke for her. “The cameras are trashed. We stole from the system to keep technical equipment running in the labs. It’s the best we can do.”

  Mabe stroked a hand down his neck, forcing himself to focus. “We need to split them up, target the smallest and weakest one and get it underground before reinforcements arrive. Sarah, what do you think?”

  She rubbed her bare forearms, her jaw set. “All we’ve done for the past eighteen months is hide. I’m ready to do something different. Go on the offensive.” She shot him a lopsided grin, but there were goose bumps on her skin.

  Mabe bent low and whispered against her ear. “We’re all shit scared.”

  She lowered her eyes. “I know. I’m not sure there’s such a thing as a good plan in this situation. Any plan is a good plan.” She gestured at the crappy camera feed and huffed a breath. “It’s time to try something different.”

  “Exactly.” Mabe squeezed her shoulder, but released it, acutely aware of Diana’s scrutiny.

  Diana glared at him from across the monitor but remained silent. Mabe sighed internally. This was what she wanted, and still the woman looked furious. Maybe it was her natural state? Although she had been listening to Foster plan offensive strategies for the past hour. That was enough to set most people off.

  Diana pulled Riley close to her side and kissed her on the top of the head. Riley accepted the kiss and then prised herself free, unwinding ear buds from her pocket and plugging them in. Tinny music l
eaked from the buds as she danced across the room.

  What he’d give to block out the world right now. Listen to music. Drink a beer. Relax. What the fuck was relaxation? He scrubbed his eyes. Hell.

  Foster straightened, dragging his attention from the outside world, and raised his remaining eyebrow. “Time to put our plan into action?”

  Mabe nodded in agreement. “Okay everyone.” Heads turned to face him, only the ching-ching of Riley’s earphones breaking the silence. “Foster, Sawyer, and I will take point outside with the fire extinguishers. Artem, Zoe, and Jacob will provide backup.”

  And then the rest.

  “Sarah will act as bait.” He paused. She’d insisted. It was her virus. She point-blank refused to let anyone else go out there. “Sarah will carry an extinguisher, and shots of the Devil acid. Diana will remain here with Riley, providing back-up through the cameras.”

  He paused. “Questions?”

  Tension hummed against his eardrums, but everyone remained silent.

  “Okay, Let’s roll.”

  Mabe squatted in the courtyard above the ladder as Foster climbed up, fire extinguishers strapped to his back. An impressive stream of invectives followed him as he clambered out and passed them to Sawyer, who piled them up on the dead grass.

  Mabe touched his comms button. “Diana?”

  Her voice crackled across the air. “I think we have one close to the bus and another on the opposite side of the parking lot. Two outside the gates. Far enough away to give you an advantage.”

  Sarah emerged from the tunnel, quickly followed by the others. She avoided eye contact when she walked past him, and a painful stab of disappointment cut deep inside him. He squashed it down. Evidently, she had her head screwed on better than him and was keeping it strictly professional.

  Just the way it should be.

  This was a woman he barely knew. Why would he expect anything more from her? And yet, it still stung. It was a line he thought he’d never cross again; allowing himself to feel something, really feel something. But meeting Sarah made him question all the convictions he’d held for so long. Was he capable of more?