The Angel Rise Zombie Retribution Experiment

by Better Hero Army

“He was pretty keen on watching Jones the whole time, like he had a grudge, but that started long before Doctor Kennedy died. I mean, he had that look, and—” Hank scowled. Damn, it was just like not noticing Russell all over again. Now that he thought about it, Carl had been gunning for Jones the whole time. There just didn’t seem to be enough reason to think he’d go and do something about it.

  Tate raised an eyebrow. “Do you remember something?”

  “No,” Hank said, shaking his head. “I just should have known, again. I mean, he was acting like Russ, but it wasn’t like Jones couldn’t handle himself. I just didn’t think either of them would be stupid enough to…you know.”

  “Do you know what happened to Carl’s phone?”

  “His phone?”

  “Yes. He had it with him at Midamerica. Apparently, he recorded the administration of the curative to Larissa Jefferson for the Senator, but no one seems to know what happened to the phone. I’m very much interested in that footage.”

  “Well, I don’t….” Hank shrugged. “Maybe the Senator knows. Did you ask him?”

  Tate smiled as though Hank were being too simplistic. He glanced at his watch. “Unfortunately, we’re running out of time.”

  “I understand,” Hank said, getting ready to stand up.

  “Henry, I’m really glad we had this chance to talk again.”

  “Yeah,” Hank said, standing up as Tate did. “It’s good seeing you back on your feet.”

  “Thank you. And, Henry, I want you to consider coming back to work for me.”

  “Naw,” Hank said, shaking his head. “Frankie’s got things under control around here.”

  “Oh, no, not in that capacity, Henry. As a spokesman. I need respected men and women from the other side, people to champion our cause, like Marcus does.”

  “I’m not a salesman—”

  “I don’t want a salesman. I want people to hear the truth. I want people to want change.”

  Hank didn’t answer.

  Tate walked Hank toward the door and opened it. “Just think about it.”

  Frankie stood right outside the door, his arms crossed. His eyes narrowed for a split second and Hank sighed, thinking what lousy timing that was. The last thing he needed right now was Frankie getting even more bent out of shape thinking he was coming back into the picture.

  Hank nodded for Tate. “Alright. I’ll give it some thought.”

  Tate clapped him on the shoulder and smiled. “It was good seeing you again, Henry,” Tate said, holding a hand out to shake. Hank held his bandaged hand up. “Right, raincheck,” Tate said with a grin. He nodded curtly to Hank, then at Frankie, and walked toward a desk where the woman who had peeked in earlier was waiting. She strutted along beside him down the hall, her hips thrusting side-to-side like a model.

  “Done?” Frankie asked blandly.

  “Hang on,” Hank said. “I haven’t seen a woman shaped like that in eight years.”

  Frankie snorted a laugh. For being such a prick, at least he had a sense of humor.

  Forty-Two

  Hank’s things were on the conference table, but he didn’t see Penelope. He turned and stopped the door from closing behind him.

  He leaned back outside, throwing a suspicious eye at the suit guarding the door. “Hey, did she leave?”

  Both Frankie and the guard moved into the room with Hank. Their expressions of alarm were genuine, so he didn’t think there was any funny business going on.

  “She didn’t come out,” the guard said.

  “Do these open?” Hank asked, moving toward the windows to check.

  Penelope’s head peeked up over the top of the far end of the desk. Her eyes narrowed, her glare fixed on Hank.

  He breathed a sigh of relief, rounding the table toward her.

  Frankie and the guard relaxed, looking at each other and shaking their heads.

  Penelope had found a spot along the wall where she could see everything under the table, but no one could see her. Hiding. Her primary survival instinct. It’s what kept her alive in the Quarantine Zone, but Hank figured he’d have to explain to her why it wasn’t such a good idea everywhere else.

  She eased to her feet and held the phone out for Hank, pointing at it.

  “Huh?” Hank took the phone and looked at the screen. He had missed a message from Tom. He swiped at it, then swiped the other way, dragging down and tapping, but nothing worked. “Dammit.” He pressed the power button to get the whole screen to light up. He tapped the message icon and it showed him Tom’s thread.

  Coming to get u. Where r u?

  Hank tapped a quick reply. Got…picked…up…by…Frankie. He tapped send accidentally. “Shit, all I wanted was an Enter. Stupid—.” Well…come…to…you…what…hotel. He tapped send again even though he still didn’t know how to make the keyboard do much more than letters. He wished he knew where the question mark was, and apostrophes, and anything useful.

  “Don’t worry,” Hank said to Penelope, still glowering at his phone. “He just wants to know where you are.”

  She took a deep breath and let it out through her nose. The tension around her eyes eased. If only she could read. He couldn’t imagine what it had felt like staring at the thing, unable to comprehend what it said. Well, he could. Damned thing irritated the piss out of him.

  Hank scooped up his other belongings off the table, counting the money in his wallet before stuffing it into his pocket.

  “Oh, here,” Frankie said to Hank, holding a cupped hand out. It was filled with rounds, the ammunition from his pistol. “You can have your weapon back when the driver drops you off.”

  “Thanks,” Hank said sarcastically, collecting the bullets. He emptied them into the survival pack and cinched it up tight. He looked back at Penelope. “You ready?”

  Frankie escorted them to the lobby and collected their badges. The television was still showing replays of the Senator’s Daughter Revealed with Tom’s brother Gary almost holding her up with his arm cinched tight around her shoulders. The camera zoomed in on the girl’s frightened face—and it was actually Larissa. No body-double.

  Frankie led them to the main door and barred their exit, glowering at Hank. “You’re not fucking fooling me, Henry.”

  Hank sighed, sagging his shoulders. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “You didn’t see a doctor. Look at your hand. That’s the worst excuse for a wrap job I’ve ever seen.”

  Hank looked at his bandaged hand, a little hurt by the insult. It wasn’t that bad.

  “Stay the fuck away from my Step-Down Ward.”

  Hank looked him in the eye, nodding. His Step-Down Ward. He fought the urge to ask Frankie if he was Aladdin, but he knew tipping his hat like that wouldn’t go well. Hank had remembered whose face he recognized in that gurney, now. That was Moby he’d seen. Shit was settling into places Hank didn’t want to stick his foot right now. “Okay, Frankie. Whatever you say, man.”

  Frankie glowered at Hank a moment, gauging whether his warning had set in enough.

  Hank didn’t know how to look adequately shaken, or warned. He sighed. “Can we go?”

  “Yeah,” Frankie growled. He turned to the guard who had been silently shadowing them. “Drop them off in town.” He handed the guard Hank’s pistol and walked away.

  Forty-Three

  Tom sent Hank the name of the hotel while they were driving into town, but Hank didn’t relay any of that news up to the driver, who let them out in front of the convenience store. The jerk tossed the pistol to Hank just as he drove off. Asshole move, treating a gun like that. Hank had half a mind to drop a round in the chamber and blow out the back window of the SUV as it drove away, but thought better of it. This wasn’t the Quarantine Zone. Rough rules didn’t apply here. Carrying a piece was frowned upon, there were police here, he’d wind up in jail, all kinds of garbage. He slipped the pistol into the zombie survival pack and nodded for Penelope to follow him.

  They walked across town half a mile
to find Tom pacing outside the hotel. At seeing him, Penelope ran straight into traffic. A car honked and slammed on the brakes, sliding toward her. She ducked, covering her ears, but loped ahead, narrowly avoiding being struck.

  “Of all the—!” Hank blurted.

  “—stupid bitch!” The driver shouted, shaking his middle finger at her as he straightened the wheel to get his car rolling again on the snow and ice-covered road. The vehicle cruised by and Hank looked both ways before crossing.

  Penelope had already ducked into Tom’s arms, burying her head against his chest. Hank had a laundry list of harsh words for her about what she just did, but seeing her like this checked his tongue. This wasn’t her world. After ten years, it was hardly his, but at least he understood it, knew the rules.

  Tom put a hand on her head. “It’s alright,” he said soothingly. “You didn’t get hit.”

  Hank sighed. The kid had a lot more patience for Penelope than he did, which was good. She needed it. Rehabilitation wasn’t going to happen overnight. Not for her, and not for the hundreds of thousands of infected already over here, or the million or so still stranded in the Quarantine Zone.

  “Sorry about that,” Hank said to Tom. He should have kept a better eye on her. He should have tried to stop her somehow.

  “She’s okay,” Tom said. “And now she knows to look both ways.”

  Hank snorted. Parenting advice from a kid. Hank looked up at the three-story building, a small hotel with probably only thirty or forty rooms.

  “So, is this where you’re staying?”

  “No,” Tom replied. “I’m at the Riverfront Hilton with Dad and Gary and everyone else.”

  “Is Wendy there?”

  “Yup. Under lock and key, but she’s there. I haven’t had a chance to talk to her yet.”

  “Well,” Hank said, stuffing his hands in his pockets to keep warm. “It’s cold as hell out here. Let’s get inside.”

  Tom led them up the stairs to the second-floor room overlooking the street. There were two beds, a television, bathroom, the usual stuff.

  Hank tossed the zombie survival pack on the nearest bed. “Hey, I had a weird conversation today with Doctor Tate. What do you know about Carl?”

  Tom raised an eyebrow. “My dad’s bodyguard?”

  “Yeah, him.”

  “The dead one?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Why Carl?”

  “I don’t know. Tate was interested in him. With everything that’s been happening…I don’t know. He made it sound important, you know?”

  Tom made a sour expression.

  “So, did you ever see Carl and Doctor Kennedy together?”

  Tom shrugged and turned on the light to show Penelope the bathroom was empty, same with the closets. He watched her as she started inspecting everything in the room.

  “Back on the EPS,” Hank went on. “Before they went to Midamerica. You had to spend a lot of time with your dad, right?”

  “I still do,” Tom replied. “And I’m still trying to figure out why Tate would care about Carl.”

  “Me, too.”

  “I mean, Carl worked for Breckenrock. They privatized the Capitol Police three years ago.”

  “What?”

  “You okay with the room, Penny?”

  Penelope stood by the window, sniffing the curtain fabric. She looked back at Tom and nodded, sliding open the curtains to look outside. The sun was setting, leaving a dark gray in the sky, streaked with long, fat ribbons of purple.

  “Carl worked for Breckenrock?”

  “Well, not exactly. He worked for the government. He was a federal agent, technically. But Breckenrock manages the agency.”

  “You know, this shit just keeps getting more confusing,” Hank grumbled as he sat on the bed. “Tate kept thinking Carl and Kennedy had some kind of relationship.”

  Tom snorted, almost laughing.

  “What?”

  “They did.”

  “Seriously? How come I didn’t notice that?”

  “I don’t know. You didn’t have to hang out with them, I guess. Kennedy liked to drink. A lot. The first night she was on the EPS, at that reception for my dad with the game warden, you and Wendy and Jones were hiding. Remember?”

  “Yeah?”

  “Dad asked Carl to take her to her room because she was becoming an ‘embarrassment.’” Tom said, quoting with his fingers in the air. “Carl didn’t come back. You know what I mean?”

  “I think so,” Hank said. A little bit of hanky-panky. He leaned back and closed his eyes, laying on the bed. This had been a long day.

  “So, anyway,” Tom said, moving over to the window to look out at whatever held Penelope’s attention. “Dad’s leaving in the morning. They’re going to transport Larissa out tonight when no one’s looking. So, you two just hang tight and I’ll come get Penny around noon.”

  “Around noon?!” Hank sat back up.

  Even Penelope glared at Tom.

  “Look, there’s not a whole lot I can do—”

  “Well, you can take Kitty back to your room. I’d rather spend the night at the hospital anyway, keep an eye on Rebecca. Maybe get this hand looked at.”

  “You know I can’t take Penny anywhere near my dad right now,” Tom said plaintively. He dug the keys to the Jeep out of his pocket. “Take the Jeep. I’ve got some cash, too. A couple hundred.” He pulled a wad of twenties out of his pocket as well, holding them out to Hank.

  Hank stared at the money.

  “Take it. I owe you, anyway.”

  Hank swiped the money from Tom’s hand. “Yeah, you do.”

  Forty-Four

  Hank shadowed Tom and Penelope as they meandered down the sidewalk toward the channel. Tom spoke softly, too quietly for Hank to hear. Penelope waved her hands around, making gestures under the dim streetlights. Even though he couldn’t understand what they said, it made him feel like some kind of voyeur anyway. Keeping Penelope another night wasn’t his idea of a good time, either, but the kid was paying for everything, so he followed them until they were overlooking the Hilton.

  Penelope stood under a street light as though her feet were cemented to the sidewalk. Tom backed away between two parked cars. That was Hank’s cue to retrieve her. She growled at his touch. He let her go. It was just a suggestion anyway. She was going to do what she wanted regardless.

  “I’ll see you tomorrow,” Tom told Hank. He gave Penelope one last guilty look before turning to check for cars and crossed the street.

  The other side was lined with black SUVs, the kind security teams drove around in all the time. It made sense given who was in the hotel.

  “Let’s go get some grub, Kitty,” Hank said, giving her sleeve a tug.

  Penelope shook her arm free, ignoring him, watching Tom as though she thought he might vanish if she blinked. Tom leapt up the front stairs two at a time. The large doors yawned open as three men in suits awkwardly traded places with Tom, letting him dodge between them into the hotel as they came out.

  Penelope growled. Hank’s eyes narrowed.

  The suit leading the bunch came to a halt on the steps, staring across the street. “Look,” the suit said, slapping one of the others across the chest with the back of his hand. He pointed toward Hank and Penelope. The other two suits stopped to look, their dumb gazes following his finger.

  As the suit pointing at them began to smile, Hank sighed in disgust. It was the asshole Penelope chopped in the throat, Paul.

  “Come on,” Hank said under his breath, tugging Penelope. This time she didn’t resist. They turned and hurried up the street back toward their hotel.

  “Hey!” Paul called from across the street, a taunting lure to his tone. “Hey, where are you going?”

  “Don’t look back,” Hank told Penelope. He made sure she was walking beside him, not getting too fast, and not falling behind. He would have loved to have had his pistol with him, but he’d left it in the hotel room, in the survival pack because he hadn’t thought he�
��d need it. It wasn’t even re-loaded yet.

  “You two staying here in town?” Paul asked, still a good distance behind them. Thankfully they weren’t running to catch up. Probably because there was another man on the opposite side of the street, just some random guy walking the other direction. He gave Paul and his cohorts a sour look, but didn’t stop.

  The hotel was two blocks away by the time they were alone with Paul again. Hank glanced over his shoulder and saw the trio moving quickly, one of them switching sides of the street.

  “Damnit,” Hank said. He grabbed Penelope’s hand. “Stay with me,” he told her as he started to jog. She didn’t yank her hand away for once. Instead, she matched him stride for stride.

  “Hey, wait up,” Paul jeered.

  “Faster,” Hank told Penelope, not looking back. It wasn’t an all-out run, but they leapt off the curb, ran across the intersection, and were back on the sidewalk in only four or five strides.

  Just another block.

  “Why’re you running?” Paul called. “You afraid?”

  Hank picked up the pace. Paul’s voice was closer than was comfortable for Hank. Penelope didn’t seem to mind the speed. She wasn’t breathing as hard as Hank, or having as much trouble running in the first place. She was a good hundred pounds lighter than he was, well over twenty years younger, and probably in a lot better shape.

  They jumped into the next intersection and nearly sprinted across. As soon as his feet hit the opposite sidewalk, Hank slowed and looked over his shoulder. Paul and the goon who was with him slowed to a jog as they reached the intersection, matching their pace. They didn’t seem winded.

  “Why don’t you two just stop so we can talk?”

  “Screw you,” Hank called between breaths, slowing to a walk as they reached the front door of the hotel.

  “Fuck you, old man,” Paul said as he reached the sidewalk again. “I’m going to teach your girlfriend there a lesson. You mark my words.”

  “Sleep it off, asshole.” Hank gave the jerk the bird as he pushed Penelope through the main door and into the hotel lobby.