Smoke Rising

by Craig Halloran

  “Aren’t you going to invite me in?” Smoke said.

  And break my last seven months of chastity?

  She checked herself in the mirror again and strapped her weapon on. She saw her bed reflecting in the mirror.

  Just let him in. Long enough is long enough.

  “Hello?” she heard him say. “The biscuits are getting cold.”

  The biscuits are getting cold? The fires inside her dimmed. Cheap thrill killed. She pulled her hat down, grabbed her coffee and bag, and opened the door.

  “Don’t ever do this again,” she said, locking the door behind her, “and you can explain how you found me later.” Her stomach growled. “Where’s my biscuit?”

  “Oh,” he said, rubbing his neck. “I was joking about that. I ate on the way over.”

  She glared at him.

  “Nice hat,” he said, eyeing the three big letters. “Not exactly discreet considering where we’re headed.”

  “And where might that be?” She scanned the parking lot. “And how did you get here?”

  “Automobile.” He pointed at the parking lot as they made their way down the stairs. “I can drive too, you know.”

  “Well, we won’t be finding out about that anytime soon.” There was an old VW bus, red with a white top, she hadn’t seen before. “Please tell me you aren’t driving that.”

  He looked at the bus. “That? No.” He pointed to the space on the other side, where there was a primer-gray Camaro. A mid-eighties IROC version. “Those are my wheels.”

  “We’ll take the Interceptor.”

  “It’s too slow.”

  “I didn’t think we were in a hurry.” She headed for her car. The windows were frosted over. The trunk groaned when she opened it up and grabbed the ice scraper. She handed it to Smoke. “Get to work.”

  “My car’s warm and ready. The bucket seats are cozy.”

  “Please stop.” She grabbed her jacket from the back seat and then started up her car. “Hurry up, and then get in.”

  Scraping, Smoke said, “I have all my gear in my car.”

  “And I have all my gear in mine.” She closed the door and took a sip of coffee. Flipped on the defroster. The fan rattled. Her neck tightened. Smoke’s suggestion seemed more promising.

  Nah, let him scrape.

  Finishing up, Smoke rapped on the window with his knuckle and said with icy breath, “Why don’t we take both cars?”

  Her nostrils flared. Screw it. She shut off the engine, got out of the car, and locked it.

  Smoke tossed the scraper in the trunk and started to close it.

  “Hold on.” She took out a black duffle bag that clattered with metal and swung it over her shoulder. “All right.”

  Smoke clamped the lid down, headed for his car, and opened up the passenger side door.

  “This isn’t a date.” She placed her bag in the back seat.

  “No, it’s common courtesy.”

  Sidney took her seat and Smoke closed the door. Seconds later, they were roaring down the road. The Camaro’s acceleration pinned her to her seat. It had a roll cage inside, and the dash rattled and squeaked. Smoke filled up his racing seat. His head almost touched the ceiling.

  “I appreciate you letting me drive,” Smoke said over the hum of the engine. “That’s one thing I hate about prison. I don’t get to drive anywhere.”

  “Don’t get used to it. We have a stop to make.”

  “Stop, why?”

  “Take the next left, a right and then another left.”

  “Sure, where are we going?”

  “Just do it.” Turn about is fair play.

  She took the lid off her coffee and took another drink. Smoke was being extremely cooperative for a man who had problems with authority. He was up to something. His behavior was way outside of his profile. Smoke made the second left.

  “Turn here.”

  They entered a facility full of orange-doored storage garages. He pulled his car to a stop at the key pad. “Uh …”

  “Seven six seven five.”

  He punched it in, and the gate glided open.

  “Straight back and to the right.”

  Smoke cruised toward the back, where cars, boats, and RVs were parked in rows. He pulled into an open slot.

  She picked up her belongings, got out, and said, “Wait here.”

  “Can I at least get out?”

  “Sure.”

  A few minutes later she pulled out in a Dodge Challenger Hellcat: phantom black, with flame-orange stripes on the hood and pinstripes on the side. She pushed on the gas, unleashing a throaty exhaust note.

  Smoke took off his glasses. Brows up and eyes wide, he strolled over.

  “I think I’m in love.”

  “With me, or the car?”

  “Heh … I’ll get my stuff.”

  CHAPTER 31

  Cruising down the highway, Smoke ran his fingers over the dash. “Seven hundred and seven horsepower, the most powerful production engine.” He bobbed his chin. “Now that’s something. I read about these in prison. Pretty new. How’d you come by it?”

  “Police auction,” she said, fingers hugging the heated steering wheel. I’ve missed my baby. “I outbid a lot of interested people. Pissed off many men.”

  “I bet.”

  “It came down to me and Ted.” She plucked her shades from the console and put them on. “At the end of the day it was my Hellcat, not his.”

  Glasses off, Smoke inspected everything. “He missed out. So why the attraction?”

  “Love cars. Love the name. My dad actually had some comics with a superhero named Hellcat I kind of liked.” Too much information, Sid.

  Smoke smiled. “Ah, very interesting.”

  “Not to mention the rear-wheel drive and all the awesome power. It’s sort of a given.”

  “So, was this a drug runner’s car?”

  “Snagged north of the Arizona border. The auction was in Texas. I drove him all the way home.”

  “I thought cars were hers?”

  “Does he look like a her?”

  He shook his head no.

  “I’m heading south, you know,” she said. “Unless there’s another direction I should be going.”

  “Right, right. No, south is good.” He poked at the GPS. “Do you mind?”

  “It would help to know where I’m going.” She checked the speedometer. It read ninety. The feel of the road, the sound of the engine, she lost herself in it. She eased off the gas and set the cruise control at seventy. “So tell me about this lead. How did you get it?”

  “Fat Sam—”

  “And Guppy. Sheesh, I should have known.” She switched lanes. “I’m wondering if they’re even real.”

  “Oh, they’re real, but it’s important that I keep my resources secret.” He finished tapping on the GPS. “There we go.”

  “What is that?”

  “Mitchell-Bates Hospital. Closed as of 2004. One hundred and seventy-five beds. Three floors and a basement.” He took a drink of coffee. “Two miles from the highway. Once public and now private property.”

  “And who owns it now?”

  “A real estate developer, which is a subsidiary of …”

  “The Drake Corporation.”

  “Actually, Drake Incorporated. We checked at the Secretary of State’s office, which wasn’t easy seeing how three states are in the immediate area.”

  “So there are lots of companies, different names and doing business as?”

  “Yep.” He nodded. “And no real names.”

  “And I guess they all pay their taxes.”

  “Do you want me to find out?”

  “No.” Sidney had done her share of white-collar investigations. Digging through layer after layer of false names and companies was interesting. The top lawyers and accountants dotted every ‘i’ and crossed every ‘t’ on the good ones. In the most thorough cases it took an act of God to bring them down, and that was only after years were exhausted in the court syste
ms that the enemy knew too well. This is a lot deeper than just one man.

  “Shadow companies like the Drake probably benefit from a few congressmen and senators in their pockets.”

  She thought of Congressman Wilhelm and the last words he had said: “Watch your step.”

  Things were quiet the next ninety minutes of driving, and then she took the Grandview Road exit. A pair of steel-crafted yellow swing gates barred the road that led into the parking lot.

  “Looks like we walk from here.”

  “I’m not leaving my car out here,” Sidney said. She got out and made her way to the gates. A heavy padlock down inside a steel mesh cage held the gates together. She scanned the area. The Mitchell-Bates Hospital sign was in disrepair. No cameras were mounted on the light poles leading to the entrance. Only the sound of highway traffic caught her ears. She drew her weapon, shot the lock off, swung the gate open, and got back in the car.

  “Subtle,” Smoke said.

  She put the car in drive. “Let’s get this over with.”

  CHAPTER 32

  “Maybe he is, maybe he isn’t in here,” she said, driving forward. “Perhaps Fat Sam and Guppy are wrong.”

  “They aren’t wrong.”

  “Maybe there’s another way out.”

  Smoke shrugged.

  As they rolled up the road between the tall trees, the rising sun dimmed behind misty clouds. The brisk wind stirred the leaves on the parking lot as they approached. The small brick hospital stood in a woodland of falling leaves and pines. Not a car was in the lot. Patches of tall grass popped up through the blacktop.

  “He’s in here, huh?” she said to Smoke. “It looks pretty abandoned to me.”

  “It’s a lead,” he said. “Besides, looks can be deceiving. There’s another side to the building, you know.” He shook his head. “Man, this is the worst recon ever.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?” she said, reaching into the back seat for her gym bag. She took out another shoulder holster. A Kevlar vest. Another Glock was ready, along with two fifteen-round magazines. She slipped off her jacket, put on the Kevlar vest, and put the jacket over it. “I don’t think there’s that much to recon.”

  “Then why are you gearing up like that?”

  “Because I don’t normally get to.” She pulled the car under the canopy that led to the emergency room entrance, opened her door, and dropped a foot outside. “Are you coming or not?”

  “Pop the trunk.”

  She followed him to the back of the car, where he opened his oversized gym bag. He put on his own Kevlar vest and strapped a pair of 9mm Beretta pistols to his hips. He finished by stuffing a single-action army sheriff’s pistol in the back of his pants.

  “A revolver?” she said.

  “It’s sentimental.”

  “All right, cowboy.” As she turned toward the hospital entrance, something caught her eyes. She froze.

  A white-grey wolf stood twenty feet away, teeth bared. Its muscular back was more than waist tall. It was one of the biggest canines she’d ever seen.

  “Uh, Smoke?”

  “Yeah?” he said, turning. “Oh … that’s one big dog.”

  Sidney’s back tightened. Her fingertips tingled. She knew dogs but not wolves. They were wild. Ferocious. She reached for her weapon.

  Before she could even touch it, the wolf had snarled and sprinted away.

  Sidney jumped when Smoke closed the trunk.

  He had a tire iron in his hand. “Let’s go catch that werewolf.”

  “I think it will be a few more hours before any of them come out.” She took the tire iron from his hand and made her way onto the landing. A set of sliding glass doors were closed, and the side entrance steel door was locked. She wedged the tire iron in between the doors and started to pry. The doors cracked open an inch. “A little help,” she grunted.

  Smoke gripped the door’s edge and gave a powerful tug. The doors split apart another foot. Straining, he said, “Think you can fit?”

  “Ha,” she said, squeezing through. Smoke forced himself inside, and the doors sealed shut with the tire iron outside. “Ew,” she said, covering her nose. “It smells like the dead in here.”

  Inside, the lighting was dim other than the natural light from the windows.

  “Do you hear that?” Smoke said, tilting his head. The sound of electricity hummed inside the walls. “Something is going on in here.” He started forward, shuffling by the old waiting room chairs and into the ER. There were several gurneys with rotting curtains hanging around them. “What do you think? Follow the smell?”

  Sidney remained behind Smoke’s shoulder and followed him into the central hall, plugging her nose. This is disgusting. The long hallway was darker because the patient room doors were closed, blocking the sunlight. Smoke stopped at one of them and pushed it open. It groaned on the hinges and swung inward. Is he visiting somebody?

  It was a two-patient room with soiled linens rotting on the beds. The air was musty, rotten, and stale.

  Sidney coughed. “Do you have a thing for bad smells?”

  Smoke glided to the window and stood where the daylight crept in through the blinds. He pulled them aside with two fingers. “We aren’t alone.”

  Sidney took a look. Smoke was right. More cars were parked behind the building: two navy-blue cargo vans and several dark sedans. A box truck was backed into the service drive. All of it was shadowed by the tall trees that snuffed out the bright rising light.

  She glanced up at Smoke. “I can’t say I’m glad that you’re right. Come on.”

  “I’d be disappointed if I was wrong.”

  Heading out of the room, she came to a stop. Footsteps and the shuffle of feet came from the room above. The steps creaked and were moving down the hall. Sidney followed the sound down toward the emergency exits. Smoke was a large shadow behind her. The doors were closed at the stairwell, but she heard the latch of the doors above pop open. She slid to one side of the doors, and Smoke took the other. Her heart thumped in her chest.

  After about thirty seconds, Smoke shrugged. “They either went up or went back.” He popped the door open and peered inside the dark stairwell. “Huh, there’s a basement too. I have a coin. Heads we go up, tails we go—ulp!”

  A hand shot out and pulled Smoke into the stairwell. The door slammed shut behind him.

  CHAPTER 33

  “Smoke!”

  Sidney shoved on the door, but there was no give. Something blocked the other side. She thrust her shoulder into it. It cracked open and slammed shut. She could hear the scuffle of a fight on the other side. A man screamed.

  “Smoke!”

  Wham!

  A heavy body rocked the door. She heard the heavy blows of bone on bone and flesh on flesh. Hard smacks. Kicking. Punching. Wrestling. She found her flashlight and shone it through the rectangular portal. A bloodshot eye blinked in the light. The face was scarred. Subhuman. She tapped the nose of her gun on the glass.

  “Back off!”

  The face ducked away.

  She lowered her shoulder, rammed into the door, and winced. No give. She wanted to shoot. Blast away, but Smoke was over there, fighting for his life.

  Come on! Come on! Think, Sid! Think!

  “Back away, Sid,” Smoke roared from the other side. “Back away!”

  Sidney stepped aside. The door flung inward. Smoke appeared, dragging another man in a headlock.

  “Stay away from the door,” Smoke warned. The door clasped shut. Footsteps scurried up the stairwell. “Stay here.” Smoke wrestled the struggling man to the floor and wrenched the man’s arm behind his back. Pop! The shoulder was dislocated, but the man didn’t cry out.

  “What are you doing?” Sidney said.

  Chest heaving, Smoke replied, “I’m immobilizing him.” He wrenched the man’s other arm. Pop. The other shoulder gave.

  Sidney’s stomach turned.

  The man-like thing thrashed with purpose, arms hanging limp as noodles from t
he sockets. Its face was ghoulish and veiny. It gathered itself on its feet.

  Smoke swept the legs out from under it.

  It crashed back-first to the floor.

  Smoke pinned it and jammed his gun barrel in its chest.

  “Don’t kill him,” Sidney ordered.

  “I hit him with everything I had. He didn’t even grunt.”

  “That’s not a license to kill.”

  “You’re just going to have to trust me on this, Agent Shaw.” He squeezed the trigger.

  Ka-blam!

  The man-like thing lurched up and smacked Smoke in the chin.

  He staggered back.

  It started walking down the hall, arms dangling at its sides with a hole clean through its back and chest.

  Sidney took aim.

  Blam! Blam! Blam!

  It tumbled over with its kneecap blasted apart.

  “Good shot.” Smoke wiped his brow and headed after their fallen attacker where it writhed on the floor. “I think it’s a zombie.” He pointed his weapon at its head.

  Blam!

  “Zombies aren’t real,” she said, catching her breath and holstering her gun.

  “I don’t know,” Smoke replied.

  She kneeled down. Whoever or whatever the man was, it didn’t bleed: it oozed. It still moved. Her skin turned clammy. “This is sick.”

  “Good thing we’re in a hospital.”

  Sidney eyed him. “How many were in there?”

  “Just two. One I think was a man. I kicked him solid in the balls.” He cracked his neck. “That’s when I dragged this fiend out of there. Do you think it’s that captain?” he said, referring to the man driving AV’s boat she’d mentioned earlier.

  “No, but his skin is just like what I saw.” She took out her phone. “No signal.”

  “No surprise.” He tipped his head toward the stairwell. “How about I scout it out?”

  “How about we scout it out? But another approach would be better, seeing how they know we’re here.” She made her way into another patient room and peered out through the window. None of the cars had moved. “Doesn’t look like we scared anyone off, either.”