Gregory nodded, moving across the floor to the bag. Over his shoulder, he said, “Looks like all the coke is wasted. Shit, Roberto said Benito told him this shipment was a new, special blend. Wonder what in the hell he put in there?”
Santos felt his stomach lurch again while staring at what was left of Carlos. A fleeting image of his mother wailing in grief flashed inside his mind. He dreaded breaking the news. Fearing he would puke again, Santos concentrated on his leg. The wound was bad and there was no way he could walk on his own. Burning pain shot up all the way into his chest. Gregory returned and set the cleavers down and helped secure his leg.
Just as Gregory tightened the makeshift tourniquet, the strange gurgling sound from before was back. Santos didn’t have time to say a word. Pushing Gregory out of the way, Santos threw himself across the slab and grabbed a cleaver, ready to defend himself from the bloodied corpse of what used to be Carlos Juan Riviera.
He was too late.
What had formally been his baby brother descended on them. Internal organs hanging out, eyes black as coal, it attacked. The thing fell on top of Gregory, clawing, ripping, and biting his way through Gregory’s exposed back. The shrieks of agony and terror mixed together with the gurgling made Santos’ head spin.
Santos only had a chance to bring the heavy cleaver down once. The thick blade sliced through tendons and muscle, stopping when it embedded in the spinal column. The bones wouldn’t budge and the cleaver was stuck. The blow didn’t slow down the vicious attack. Rather, it gave his brother something else to concentrate on.
Santos.
Unable to run, Santos jumped off the slab and tried to hobble away on one leg. He made it less than five feet before Carlos landed on his back.
Minutes later, the screaming stopped. The only sound inside the warehouse came from teeth grinding on flesh and bone.
BAD BATCH - Friday - December 19th – 1:00 a.m.
Benito sat perched on the red-tiled roof of one of many resort condos he owned in Colonia Escalon, watching the teeming nightlife of San Salvador through binoculars. Almost three hours had passed since he unleashed his men on the streets, and he was eager to watch the reactions of users. On the cusp of making his name famous throughout the world—at least to others like him—Benito’s legs shook with excitement.
All the hard work and tension-filled moments of the last year were over. The scientists had used the base material brought back from the botched incident in Laredo, creating the polar opposite of what the other fools had intended. He’d been furious when his men returned without Dr. Berning. Fury morphed into blinding rage when his men informed Benito his little inside bug, Daryl Riverside, had been killed. Benito spared their lives after they handed him the bag containing vials and all the information needed on a flash drive to recreate Dr. Berning’s work.
After months of failures, the scientists made a breakthrough. The idea seemed simple, yet implementing it proved difficult.
If the chemical formula discovered by the American fools cured addiction, then one to increase the potency and need for more could be made from it as well by basically reversing the process. That was how Mario Alvarado looked at the idea, and Benito concurred, though he added his own personal touch. Originally, Mario only wanted to be informed of the progress, thinking the discovery would never materialize. If it did, Mario’s plan was to simply kill all those involved in the experiment.
Benito had other ideas.
The scientists working to achieve the lofty agenda used all sorts of medical terminology that meant nothing to him. Benito’s plan was to ensure those who ingested any sort of narcotic would become—close to the same timeframe—irrevocably addicted.
In doing so, there would never be a shortage of clientele.
Ever.
Seven months later, they succeeded, and Benito put the next phase of his plan into motion. He sold the formula to over one-hundred cartels around the world for a very hefty sum, each agreeing to deploy the serum at the same time in upcoming shipments across the globe. Drug lords in China, Russia, Afghanistan, Columbia, Brazil, Australia, and even Germany were buyers. As an extra touch, he decided to terminate the annoying relationship with Maria at the same time. He wanted to get a batch to Roberto quickly, so he had his private surgeon use liquid cocaine rather than silicone to pump up her boobs. He made sure Maria wouldn’t get the chance to attend Teresa’s wedding, and the drugs made it through customs undetected.
The last two days had been spent holed up inside the penthouse floor of the condo, going over all the instructions with his team. His personal pilot, Fernando, even flew him deep into the jungle so Benito could oversea the manufacturing process. When Benito poured the concoction into a large vat of freshly made cocaine, the feeling was close to orgasmic.
Now, fifty of his lieutenants hit the packed bars and clubs of Ciudad Merliot, pockets full of the new batch of coke. Another fifty spread out through the shanty towns along the city’s fringes. He didn’t trust the operation to his hundreds of foot soldiers. They were simpletons, unable to grasp the magnitude of the plan. Benito figured he’d hook the rich and the poor at the same time. To ensure his plan worked, and people took the bait, he told the men to actually give away hits for free. Between the hundred men, they would be distributing—free of charge—nearly three kilos of cocaine.
The plan was risky financially up front, yet Benito knew the rewards in the future would outweigh the losses in the present.
Benito’s cell phone vibrated and his heart rate spiked. He hoped it was a text from one of his men, not another pathetic, tear-filled communication from the other Alvarado whore, Teresa. During the last day-and-a-half, she’d called him so many times he’d lost count. At first, he took her calls and tried to act worried as well, assuring Teresa he would do whatever necessary to locate the missing Maria. After about the tenth call, he’d lost his temper and shut the whiny bitch down, telling her he would take the next flight to Phoenix to assist in the search.
Extracting the phone from his pocket, Benito smiled. The call was from Roberto’s private number used only for communication with Benito. Figuring he was calling to report on the results of the experiment in Phoenix, Benito answered. Before he could even finish saying hello, Roberto interrupted, his voice strained and sirens wailing in the background.
“Don’t deploy! Don’t deploy! Something’s wrong!”
Benito’s mouth went dry. Heavy static made hearing Roberto’s word difficult. “Calm down and say again? I can’t understand…”
“People…dying…coming…back…spreading…abort! For…sake…abort!”
The sound of Roberto’s terrified voice was drowned out by screams rising up from the city below. Disconnecting the call, Benito stood and lifted the binoculars to his eyes. As he focused the lenses, the smell of smoke wafted through the tropical night air. The screams were joined by numerous sirens from police cruisers and ambulances, their brightly colored lights flooding the streets. He could see throngs of people running through the crowded streets, trampling each other in a panicked effort to flee.
A sense of foreboding squashed the joy he’d felt seconds ago. His cell phone vibrated in quick succession, an indicator texts were flooding the screen. Benito’s stomach churned. Lowering the binoculars, he glanced at the vibrant screen and saw sixteen texts and counting, all from separate numbers.
Stunned, Benito clicked on one. “What have you done? This stuff is poison!”
Then another: “I’m going to hunt you down for this! Slice your fucking balls off!”
And another: “You said this would guarantee clients for life! Instead, they are dying in droves! AND COMING BACK!”
The screams from below grew louder, drawing his attention away from the phone. The sickening feeling in his gut increased. Benito took one last look at the streets, hoping to find the reason behind the chaos was from a gunman or wild animal.
He knew he wouldn’t.
Gunshots rang throughout the area in quick s
uccession. Automatic weapons—he knew the sound. Zooming in on one spot, Benito followed a stream of citizens running down a small alleyway, hands shaking as he searched for what sent them into hysterics. A policeman dressed in full riot gear made his way through the crowd, crouched, and trained his weapon behind them. Benito watched the flashes of light spray out the end as the cop fired off several rounds into a woman’s body.
The bullets ripped through the young woman’s chest, thigh, and shoulder. She fell onto the brick street, landing in an odd, unnatural angle as the crowd scattered. The policeman stood, gun at the ready, and moved toward her. He only made it three steps before the woman pushed herself up from the ground and jumped, toppling the cop over. Her right leg was bent backward and her arm hung limp at her side, yet she moved at an unbelievable pace.
In a flash, she was on top of the stunned cop. She ripped his throat out with her teeth. Benito didn’t have a chance to see anything else because the lights of San Salvador flickered once then went out.
Controlling his rising fear, Benito secured his gear and scrambled to leave the rooftop. Mindful of his steps on the slick terra cotta, he was only a few feet away from the door leading to the stairs. He fumbled around in his pocket for the keycard to unlock the door, cursing under his breath while trying to extract it. The sounds coming from all around him rivaled a war zone. The gunfire and screams increased, now joined by three explosions strong enough to make the building shake. Benito froze, trying to maintain his balance. For a split second, he did, but when the fourth explosion hit, he lost his footing and fell backward.
He caught himself and remained on the roof.
The keycard didn’t. It flew from his fingers and slid off the edge, disappearing into the night.
“Fuck!”
He was trapped twenty stories in the air. The building closest to him was over thirty feet away. Even if he was on a flat surface and could get a running start, jumping such a far expanse was impossible. Benito glanced up to the sky, wincing at the bright, orange light from numerous fireballs across the city. Snatching his cell phone, he dialed Fernando’s number. On the third ring, he answered. Benito could hear the whirr of the helicopter blades and let out a sigh of relief.
“You still on the rooftop?”
“Only until you get here. ETA?”
“Three minutes, tops.”
“Make it two.”
Benito disconnected the call, ignoring the continuous notifications of new texts. He stood and searched the sky for Fernando. Straining his ears for the sound of the helicopter blades, he heard nothing except the sounds of San Salvador under siege.
Body coated in sweat and heart racing, Benito couldn’t stop his body from shaking. If something went wrong with the chopper and Fernando didn’t rescue him, he’d never survive.
The sound he’d yearned to hear pulled him out of his own dance with hysteria. Looking up, he saw the chopper hovering about fifty feet above him. A rope ladder clanked as it hit the tiles of the roof ten feet to his right, followed by white light illuminating the entire roof from the spotlight.
Afraid he might lose his footing from the downdraft of the blades, Benito sunk to all fours and crawled across the roof. When his fingers wrapped around the rope ladder, he called upon every quaking muscle in his body to pull himself up. The climb up the swaying rope was terrifying, but less so than the alternative of staying on the roof.
Once safely inside, Benito pulled up the ladder. Securing the headset, he gave the thumbs up to Fernando, who immediately banked the machine and soared through the dark skies.
“Sorry I’m late. I had to fight off some…thing…before I could refuel.”
Still shaking, Benito responded, “Get us to the estate. Fast.”
“Of course. From the sounds and sights up here, you’d think we’re under attack or something. News mentioned an outbreak of some sort, which makes sense. The thing I ran into at the airport seemed really sick.”
Benito heard the fear in Fernando’s voice and glanced over at him. A large bandage covered his forearm and blood seeped through the layers. “What happened?”
“The guy—or thing—at the airport? He bit me! Can you believe that shit? I had to shoot him right there on the runway. Once in the air, I tried to listen further then the radio went silent. It’s eerie. Not even the police channels are active. There’s nothing but static. Any idea what’s going on?”
Benito stared across the expanse of the dark city below, the only lights from emergency personnel and countless fires. A strange feeling settled over him as the gravity of the situation hit home.
His scientists did this—and judging by the communications from others—the nightmare was happening across the globe. He wondered if the sabotage was done on purpose by the scientists. Maybe it was their way of paying him back for forcing them to work, knowing if they failed, Benito would make good on his threats to kill their families. Then again, perhaps they miscalculated the correct chemical formulation.
A memory from months ago roared to the forefront of his thoughts. The results of the formula on mice worked perfectly. Benito insisted implementing his plan during the holiday season, which was the busiest time of year. Instead of listening to the scientists, he decided not to test on humans. His colossal mistake of relying on data collected from the mice in the lab had come back to haunt him.
Either way, once he found them, Benito planned on interrogating them until they couldn’t speak another word and then slaughter them like cattle.
Though he wasn’t a believer in any sort of organized religion, Benito said a silent prayer before answering Fernando. “When the end of the world happens, does it really matter why?”
COLLAPSE - Saturday - December 20th – 6:00 a.m.
“Regina? You decent?”
Sensing the odd tone in Reed’s voice, worried it might have something to do with Jesse, Regina answered, “Just lacing up my boots. Come on in.”
Reed opened the bedroom door and scooted inside, shutting it behind him. His face was pale and jaw clenched tight. Regina’s gaze fell to his waist. Reed wore his Sam Brown belt and a loaded nine mil sat in the holster.
Regina swallowed the sense of nagging worry. “What’s wrong? You look like shit. And you’re armed. If you are goin’ deer huntin’ with that, you’d do better with a rifle.”
“Obviously, you haven’t watched or listened to any news today.”
“Uh, no. I’ve been up a total of ten minutes which included my shower.”
Reed walked across the room and joined Regina on the bed. He set her cell phone in between them. Lowering his voice, he said, “No time for your twisted sense of humor, Sis. Listen, the station has called you numerous times. Figured something was up, so I called while you were in the shower. Geenie said there’s a big pileup on I-30 involving an 18-wheeler and several vehicles. Multiple casualties.”
“Damn! I hate those big rigs! God, I hope no kids are involved.”
“Hush, Regina. Listen, the accident isn’t why I came in here.”
The worry from seconds ago morphed into fear and spread across Regina’s chest. She nodded her head for Reed to continue.
“News reports are flooding in from all over the world. There’s something going on—not just here but everywhere—and no one can give a plausible answer as to what’s behind it.”
Regina couldn’t stop herself from interrupting, “Behind what, Reed?”
“Power outages, fires, explosions, riots, and people walking around who shouldn’t be.”
Regina slugged Reed in the shoulder hard enough to make her fist hurt. “You know, you’re the one with a twisted sense of humor!” She snatched the phone up and was shocked to see she’d missed seven calls and had numerous text messages. “If that little joke was your way to help me deal with all the carnage from a semi accident, I don’t find it funny.”
“Shut up, Regina!” Reed stood and grabbed her wrist with such force Regina’s initial instinct was to punch him in the face. �
��You need to see what I mean. Words simply won’t suffice.”
Crossing the room, Reed flicked the small TV on. He turned the volume down while glancing at the door. Regina was furious he still wanted to play the stupid game. Right as she opened her mouth to tear him a new one, what was on the screen kept her mouth shut.
The jerky image was from a cell phone video. A passenger in a car with an arm stuck out the window was filming an accident on the freeway. Mangled, twisted metal was strewn out across several lanes, glass and debris spread even further. Tendrils of smoke rose from the demolished vehicles, the blacktop coated in gas and blood.
Though disturbing, those images weren’t what caught Regina’s attention.
A man crouched over and shoveling the innards of a dead female EMT into his mouth did.
Another EMT came into view and tried to distract the man. When he looked up, his face was covered in blood and gore. A large piece of metal protruded through his neck, an even bigger one pierced the chest cavity. The video zoomed in, and Regina could see his eyes were solid black.
And his neck was broken.
Regina gasped and covered her mouth with both hands, mesmerized by what happened next.
The other EMT had a stun gun. When he got close enough to strike, the man with the mortal injuries jumped over the corpse he’d just been munching on like he was a hurdler in the Olympics. Latching his broken, bloodied fingers around the EMT’s arm holding the weapon, he jutted his head forward and sunk his teeth on to the man’s neck. Blood spurted out, coating them both and the ground in seconds.
Unwilling to look at anymore, Regina let her gaze fall to the ticker at the bottom of the screen. It read, “Phoenix motorist captures video of injured man attacking rescuers on Interstate 10…Arizona Governor deploys National Guard…All travel, including air and vehicle, has been halted in Arizona…Stay tuned for similar videos from New York, Seattle, Los Angeles, Afghanistan and China…President Thompson to address the nation at…”
Tainted Cure (The Rememdium Series Book 1) Page 8