by J. R. Rain
Stetson tried to focus. Concentrating on anything seemed impossible. All kinds of thoughts wandered through his mind, including the hatred he felt for the Agent in Black, his boss. Nobody ever contradicted the Agent in Black, head of the CREW. Stetson was a true doctor and scientist. When the space rock had arrived, he wanted to take his time, study its elements, determine where it might have come from.
But, no. His orders were to find a way to destroy it. Make it disappear as quickly as possible. He’d been pressured—threatened even—if he couldn’t follow this direct order.
Under protest, he’d worked faster than he knew he should. Perhaps even recklessly.
And that’s when the accident happened. The tear in his equipment. He’d been infected instantly through the hole in the torn surgical glove. He knew it. Something very strange seemed to come over him.
No. It overwhelmed him. Overwhelmed his natural defenses. Within seconds, Stetson knew he was in a lot of trouble—and there wasn’t a damned thing anyone could do about it.
The Boss, of course, didn’t care. No one seemed to care about him. They sought only to contain him. The truth was, Stetson knew he should have been in an isolation chamber. The Boss was taking a chance being so close to him.
Unless he knows something, thought Stetson. Unless he knows exactly how the virus is transmitted.
Stetson nodded, staring at the man looming over him. The man who put him in this position. The man who knew damn well how dangerous the meteor was.
Yes, Stetson’s thoughts were jumbled at best, but he knew he wanted one thing: for his Boss to come closer. And so he gathered what comprehensive thoughts he had left, and said, “I have to show you. Take me to the lab.”
The Agent in Black kept his distance. His scientists didn’t know much about the disease—indeed, they were working around the clock to find a cure and to stop the spread—but the one thing they did know was that it appeared to only be spread through direct physical contact. Yes, the Agent knew he was taking a risk being with the man—after all, the virus was still so very new. But the Agent had spent his career taking risks—and also taking care of problems. This was just another problem. Another job. Granted, it was one of his stranger assignments, but he was up for the task.
He said, “Tell me what you know, doctor, and then we’ll talk.”
Any new information helped. And with Stetson being a scientist who’d been contaminated, well, he might be able to offer a new perspective.
The man coughed drily. “You won’t believe me.”
“Try me,” said the Agent evenly. He glanced at his watch. He had places to be—in particular, he had to find the two AWOL LCs. He had his best men working on it.
“Before I was exposed, I found...” began Dr. Stetson, but his raspy voice trailed off.
“You found what?”
Stetson knew he was going insane. His brain just wasn’t working right. No, it was worse than that. Far worse. He was losing his ability to think for himself. Something else seemed to be taking hold, thinking thoughts for him. Perhaps most frightening of all was that Stetson longed to lose control, to give in, to let out that thing which was inside him.
To let it out—and to let it feed. Yes, feed. It was so hungry. No, I’m so hungry. So very, very hungry.
“What did you find, Dr. Stetson?” persisted the Agent.
The scientist dropped back onto his pillow and closed his eyes. “It’s not what we think.”
Except that the man spoke so softly now that the Agent in Black was forced to lean in a little closer. Against his better judgment. The Agent knew to keep his distance. Hell, his every instinct told him to incinerate the room, with Stetson in it. To destroy anyone and everyone infected with the walking plague. Still, the scientist was strapped down to the bed—and seemed so very weak.
“What’s not what we think? What do you mean?”
“It’s...not...what...” But the scientist could not control his words, his tongue, anything. Instead, a soft growl now passed through his cracked lips.
The Agent in Black frowned and leaned closer still. He needed to know what the scientist had found, dammit. Who better to contract the infection than a scientist? The man’s firsthand glimpse into the effects of the infection could prove invaluable to stopping its spread—
But the scientist had closed his eyes, seemed to be having difficulty forming words. In fact, it appeared to the Agent that the man was now...growling?
“Jesus,” said the Agent in Black and had just started to back up when the scientist’s eyes flew open. The man lurched powerfully off the bed. The restraints held him, yes, but the Agent was sure he heard a sickening rending sound. There was a horrible, fleshy pop as the man’s shoulders were obviously yanked out of their sockets—which gave the scientist enough leeway for his head to lash out—and to sink his teeth deep into the Agent’s neck.
The Agent in Black fought the man now clamped onto his neck, never more surprised in all his life. My God, the man’s shoulders had pulled out of their sockets—all to reach him.
The Agent fought and bashed his way loose, but not before Stetson had taken a good chunk from his neck. The Agent in Black stumbled back, crashing into the nearby metal table. He tore off his mask and grabbed paper towels to cover his wound. He was too shocked to do anything but stare in disbelief.
David Stetson was gone. His last fleeting, conscious thought was that he had finally given into the thing that had come over him. What that thing was, he didn’t know. But it had started with the infection. Hell, it was the infection.
No, it was him.
And he felt no pain. Only hunger and rage.
Hunger and rage.
Stetson was gone, yes, but something else was in his place. Using his body as a host, so to speak. Something that was hungry and angry and powerful.
The Agent stumbled, trying to find his feet. His head was spinning. He was losing a lot of blood.
Good Christ! He fucking ate it! He fucking bit off a chunk of my goddamned neck and ate it!
He looked on in horror as the scientist’s jaws snapped over and over. Blood poured down from the man’s mouth. The Agent’s blood.
Good God!
The violent sounds brought the doctor rushing in. He took one look at the Agent in Black—blood running down his neck—and backed off.
“What in Christ’s name happened?”
The Agent in Black took one long, last look at David Stetson and stumbled out of the room, the doctor hurrying after him.
“Sir!” The doctor reached for the Agent in Black’s arm only to have it brushed away. “You have to have that attended to—”
The Agent in Black wheeled around. He shoved the doctor into an empty room and closed the door. “Nobody hears about this. Do you understand? Nobody!”
“Sir, I am obligated to—”
“You’re under my command!” The Agent in Black ripped more paper towels from a dispenser and pressed them hard into his open wound. The bite had missed his jugular by a half-inch. “You will treat me with everything you’ve got.”
The doctor knew what everyone else did. Do not cross this man. “Yes, sir.”
The Agent in Black thought quickly. How to hide this? He surveyed the unoccupied room. “I’ll stay here, for now. You get whatever fucking medication you have. Relocate my assistant to other quarters. Then you will treat me in my office.”
“But sir, you must know that...”
“Of course I know! You think I’m an idiot?”
The Agent in Black swayed a little. Yes, he knew all too well. The infection was passed through direct contact. Taking a chunk out of his neck certainly qualified as direct contact.
The doctor helped him—taking great pains to not touch any blood—to a seat. The doctor tried to remain calm. “I’ll get your medication. What do you want me to say to your assistant?”
“I don’t care what the hell you tell him. No, wait. Tell him I’ve had to go meet with someone and I’ll catch up to
him later. Go.”
The doctor drew the curtain for privacy. He reached for the door.
“Lock it,” ordered the Agent in Black.
“Yes, sir.”
The Agent winced as he pressed the paper towels deep into the wound. Already his skin was flaming hot.
The infection, he thought. The infection.
He closed his eyes as the doctor went to work, and all he could think about was one thing: to kill Stetson.
Chapter Nineteen
I tapped my fingers on the armrest of Carla’s patrol car. The fog was working its way through the trees. Creeping along the grounds up to the observatory. Anna and Jared were both in the back seat behind me.
We were quiet now, but a few minutes earlier, it had been our worst argument yet. Anna had been furious. I tried to make her understand. I thought I did. I just wanted her close to me. I didn’t want her out of my sight, especially after she blatantly disregarded the rules.
Now we were both calm, contemplative. Collecting ourselves, our thoughts. My own thoughts, for some reason, were a bit scattered. Harder to organize.
Must be tired, I thought.
Anna had looked like I felt. Like hell, that is. Her eyes were red from tears. Not the blood-red eyes exhibited by my brother and his possessed friend. Carla had stayed out of it altogether, bless her. Jared was afraid of me, I think. He should have been. He had tried to calm Anna, and had actually done a bang-up job.
I turned in my seat. “Look, honey, you can do your research someplace else.”
“I can’t do it elsewhere,” she explained again. Admittedly, her words were being lost on me. I was losing my focus a bit. She said again, “Jared is the best hacker in town. He says we can’t research from a laptop.”
My brain turned—or tried to turn—but I couldn’t think of a solution. I was a field agent, for crissakes. I worked with animals and bums and rowdy campers.
Carla said, “Your living and working quarters, both here at the observatory and at the zoo, are probably bugged by now.”
I knew this, but I hadn’t wanted to scare Anna any more than she was. The Los Feliz home probably wasn’t bugged. In fact, I knew it wasn’t. If it had been, my brother would have been long gone, probably never to be heard from again. Panic briefly gripped me. He was my brother, dammit. Not the enemy. Still, we would have to be extremely careful returning there. Undoubtedly, we were being watched, even now.
Earlier, when Anna and I had finally gotten a hold of each other, I’d headed straight up to the observatory with Carla. Anna had given it to me with both barrels blazing, demanding to know why I had locked up my brother in the basement—and in the dark, no less.
I explained why. He’d been violent. So much so that I’d feared for my safety and his. Mostly, I feared for Anna. Light seemed to bother both Mike and Joey. So, I’d left them in the dark, and felt horrible about it.
But at least they were alive, I thought.
She wanted to know why I hadn’t gotten them help and I told her that I was working on that. That I had to find a doctor I could trust. That I absolutely could not let my flesh and blood fall into the hands of those blood-sucking government fiends.
She had simmered down. She knew I only had my brother’s best interest at heart. Yes, I supposed I would turn him in, finally, if it meant saving his life. But right now...
Right now, I needed to know what the hell was going on.
“I know I can find something, Dad,” said Anna now, and Jared nodded along, too.
I looked at the boy. “What do you need?”
“Access to the computer in the observatory.”
“Fine. Promise me you and Anna won’t sneak off or anything...we’ll wait for you here.”
The boy had actually looked relieved. “I promise.”
And he and Anna dashed up to the observatory.
* * *
It was almost thirty minutes later.
I tapped my fingers on the steering wheel. A sort of irritated burning seemed to be working over my flesh. I rubbed my skin absently. Mercifully, Carla hadn’t been summoned anywhere. We didn’t talk. Mostly, I didn’t want to talk. My brain kept replaying the scenes with my brother, the basement, the APB, and my daughter yelling at me, accusing me of doing something horrible to my brother. The space rock.
Space rock? I thought again. Unbelievable.
“What’s wrong with your arm?” she asked.
“Nothing, why?”
“You’ve been rubbing it for a few minutes.”
I shook my head. “I’m just worried about Anna. Do you think we should go check on them?”
“No, let’s give them a few minutes longer.”
“I can’t imagine what they’re doing.”
“Kids and technology seem to go hand in hand,” said Carla. “Using a computer or smart phone is hardwired into them from birth.”
I pinched the bridge of my nose. My head ached. When had I last eaten? Carla was watching me closely. Too closely. Why was she looking at me like that? I felt a rare flash of irritation toward her. I don’t think I had ever been irritated by Carla.
A call came through her radio. A group of kids down the hill were creating some havoc at the Greek Theater.
She looked up from the radio. “I can ignore it.”
“You shouldn’t.”
“I want to stay with you, Jack.” Her eyes said more than her words. Unable to stop myself, I suddenly leaned over and kissed her. She returned the kiss softly.
“Jack...” she whispered.
Whoa. Too much was happening. My head spun a little. From the kiss. From fatigue. Shock. Maybe all three.
“Take your call,” I pulled away. “You have to. I’ll take the kids.”
“Take them where?”
Where, indeed? “I guess we’ll have to go home. I’ll leave my truck here and we’ll hike down.”
Carla’s radio summoned her again. She spoke into her attached mic. “Ten, ninety-eight.” Which, in police speak, meant she was available for the assignment.
“I’ll come by later,” she said.
I nodded, thought about kissing her again, and decided against it. After all, I really wasn’t feeling well, and I didn’t want our first kiss to get her sick, too.
Warmth spread into my heart as I watched her drive down into the mist. The feeling was, I was certain, love.
At least, I hoped it was.
* * *
Just as I headed up the steps, Anna and Jared exited the building. My daughter carried a notepad with her. It was open and filled with what appeared to be scribbled writing.
She saw me and her eyes widened. “Daddy. You won’t believe—”
“Shh,” I said, looking around again. “Let’s head to my quarters first and talk about it.” We appeared to be alone at the observatory. That, I knew, could be deceiving. You’re being paranoid, I thought. The quarters was a one-room office near the observatory. Walking distance.
“But, there’s no one—”
I lifted my finger to my lips, then patted my right hand over my left twice; it was the sign for “beware.”
Anna nodded immediately. Jared, of course, blinked in confusion. My father had lost his hearing in the military, and I had learned sign language at an early age. I had passed it on to Anna, who had picked it up easily.
She signed: All right, Daddy.
Spoken or not, I loved when she still called me Daddy.
* * *
Inside our quarters, which was just a single room, complete with a mini-fridge, a bathroom, a couch and a cot, I signed again for her to keep quiet. I hoped there weren’t video bugs in addition to the probable audio ones.
“How about we make dinner?” I said, then signed the word: house. I added, “I don’t know about you two, but I’m starved.”
Anna nodded, getting it, and Jared was smart enough to stay quiet. She said, perhaps a little excitedly, “Sounds great! I’ll make some spaghetti.”
“Sure,” I said.
“I’ve got a hankering for some pasta.”
Anna signed: Hankering? Really?
Oh, shut up, I signed and winked.
I gathered my first aid kit and hunting knife. I caught Jared’s attention and pointed silently to the bow and arrow hung on the wall. His eyes widened a little, but he obediently took them down.
“Just let me use the bathroom,” Anna said convincingly. She was perhaps a little too good at this lying business for my liking. Anyway, she shoved her notepad and laptop into her backpack. She looked at me and signed: Anything else?
As I glanced around, my eyes landed on a wilderness survival book. I grabbed it. I turned on the TV, and cranked it up a notch or two louder than usual.
A few minutes later, with the TV still blaring, the three of us slipped quietly out the bathroom window and made our way down through the back trails toward home.
Chapter Twenty
We were hiking through the woodlands.
Anna kept wanting to tell me about what she’d learned, but there was only so much I could focus on. For some reason, I was having trouble focusing on, well, anything. I insisted on silence. I had to.
Both Anna and I, and probably Jared, too, were accustomed to listening out in the wild. I kept my ears cocked for any sound other than the nature surrounding us. Someone following, perhaps.
Or something following us.
Why that thought occurred to me, I didn’t know, but I shuddered despite the fact that my skin still felt hot. No, not hot. It felt...burned, as if I’d spent the day at Santa Monica Beach.
We continued on. I fought a sense of fatigue. I didn’t get fatigued. I could generally hike these trails all day long—and often did just that, on my various patrols.
Anyway, I figured we were lucky so far to have refuge in the Los Feliz house. The place was undisturbed when we entered through the back door. I said a silent prayer of thanks to anyone listening.
We were all starved. We had spaghetti anyway, leftover spaghetti, which we feasted on upstairs in my office so as not to disturb our guests in the cellar. No, our prisoners.