Shadows of Ash (The Nameless Book 2)

by Adrian J. Smith

  “And after that? I’ll need to get to a research center or a hospital. Any place I can run some tests.”

  “How about Lewis McChord Base up by Tacoma? General Munroe has suitable facilities and manpower.”

  “That should do,” Johnson said. “You know, when I worked for the CDC, our biggest fear was somebody weaponizing a virus and releasing it. In your line of work, I’m sure you’re aware of a few close calls?”

  “That Ebola weapon scare in 2015?” Lisa said.

  “Among others, yes. But I’m certain this isn’t a pathogen. Nothing can act instantaneously like that. Not even something weaponized. You need an incubation period, time for it to spread.”

  Lisa slowed the big truck and scraped past a semi-trailer tipped on its side. “I’ve heard about these ancient pathogens coming to light with the perma-frost melting.”

  “Still no. They may be ancient, and we may have no cures for them, but they would still have to act like a virus. This was like a switch had been flicked.”

  Lisa nodded, rubbing her left temple with her thumb. The pain had been so intense she had considered shooting herself.

  “I think Mortis has something to do with it.” Johnson’s eyes glistening with tears. “I was having lunch with my friend Jean before we headed off to play cards when the agony started. I don’t remember much, only thinking how badly I wanted it to stop. Through the pain, I saw Jean wither and contort. Her howls of pain will give me nightmares until I die. And how she blackened and just wilted, as if her cells had suddenly lost all their structure. It reminds me of those samples you brought back from Romania; we never did solve it. They were put into storage in Atlanta. If I’d figured it out then, I could have prevented this.”

  “You can’t blame yourself, Monica. No one can. Whatever happened, it’s organized. Highly. All we can do now is find out how and catch those responsible.”

  They drove on in silence for the next twenty minutes as the route followed the surging Columbia River. Lisa kept her speed to thirty mph, not wanting to miss the place where she and Cordwell had shot the Rabid.

  The road, like the sky, was still as Lisa brought the fire engine to a halt. She recognized the two crashed minivans with their belongings strewn across the concrete. The overweight man wearing the Seattle Seahawks jersey still stared into the forest, his head all but severed from his body. Lisa took the M4 and slapped in a fresh magazine. Her last one. She had left the ammo bag in Cordwell’s Chevy.

  Johnson gasped at the sight. “What the hell did that? An infected?”

  “Yes. If I hadn’t seen it with my own eyes, I wouldn’t have believed it.”

  Lisa scanned the area, wary of threats. Since the explosion at LK3 headquarters she had been on the run. Fumbling and guessing. Black Skulls hampering her every step of the way.

  “The dead infected are up there. I’ll take one of these minivans,” Lisa said, pointing.

  It only took them a few minutes to heave the dead Siphon into the back of the van. She was a woman wearing active wear. Lisa draped some blankets over the body, half to keep the smell down and half to hide the blank, cloudy eyes. Despite what she had become, she had been a human being and Lisa wanted to treat her with some respect.

  Johnson was silent through it all, keeping her thoughts to herself. Lisa had known Monica for a long time and had seen the frown she now carried plenty of times before. It was her thinking look. That intelligent brain was whizzing around, putting all the pieces of the puzzle into place.

  Now that she had time to breathe, Lisa pulled her smartphone from her pocket and called Avondale.

  He answered immediately. “Director.”

  “Avondale. We ran into some trouble. The same Black Skulls. They’ve disguised themselves as FEMA. Cordwell is dead, but I have the doctor with me. We’ve obtained a dead Siphon, and we need to get up to Munroe so we can try to figure out what the hell is going on. I need you to guide us. Use back roads, et cetera.”

  “No problem. Bringing up your location now. Oh, and Director?”

  “What is it?”

  “Sofia pinged me. It was brief. Two letters only. AA. Do you know what that means?”

  Lisa grinned. “Yeah, it’s an old code. It means they’re alive. All of them.” Trust The Nameless to be alive. If Sofia could have sent a longer message, she would have. “AA” was all Lisa needed. They would be doing their best to get back stateside. “Any luck with a location?”

  “Just a general area. Three hundred kilometers northwest of Tokyo.”

  “Weird.”

  “That’s what I thought.”

  “Keep trying. Have FEMA or the National Guard shown up in Portland?”

  “Sure have. They’re setting up a base in the Convention Center. They’re driving around telling everyone to report in. Anyone injured is to go to the nearest hospital. The National Guard is going street to street, looking for those suckers. Also, the Secretary of State is going to do another address at 8 p.m.”

  “All right. Keep hidden.”

  “Don’t worry about me, Boss. You ready to drive? Next river crossing is the Bridge of the Gods.”

  “I know it,” Lisa said. She liked the nerdy computer genius. He had an affable manner. He was loyal and kind. Sure, he was socially inept, but she didn’t care about that. He got the job done.

  “It’s clear. The Washington side of the river too. No sign of any authorities or Black Skulls.”

  She scraped against the other minivan as she reversed hers and headed east, her sense of helplessness gone now that she had a plan again.

  Six

  Sierra Nevada Mountains, California

  “What the hell did you guys do?” Milo shouted over the noise of the alarms.

  Zanzi evaded his glare and hustled into the wooden crate. Tilly was already inside. The crate was filled with two stacks of water and electrolyte drinks. A gap had been cleared in the middle, just enough room for the two of them. As Milo had explained to her earlier, part of the second phase was to spread the nanites into the surviving population through medical and food supplies. This load was designated for Portland after some tweaks by the scientist here in The Eyrie.

  “Just a little fire,” Zanzi said.

  “A little fire? Half the bloody floor is burning. What happened to being stealthy?” Milo said, covering the crate with a fine plastic mesh.

  “Alba deserved it. She had Harriet cracked open like a lobster.”

  Milo’s eyes widened. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know. That explains why I couldn’t find her. Doctor Lahm will let you out in Portland. After that, you’re on your own.”

  “Good. You know I’m going to come after you guys, don’t you?”

  “Zanzi Connors, I wouldn’t expect anything less.”

  “Then why are you letting us go?” she asked.

  “You may think I’m a monster, but I keep my word.” He slammed the crate shut, tied off the lashing and hopped back down to the helipad.

  A few minutes later, the crate lifted off the ground and slid into place inside the hold of the helicopter, its rotors already thumping.

  Tilly shifted closer to Zanzi and clutched her hand as the chopper took off and banked away. It was loud inside the hold. There was no point in speaking to comfort Tilly, so Zanzi kept hold of her hand while she let her own mind wander. Memories of happier times came flooding back. Times with her family, watching live music performances. They all loved them. She and Liam loved thrash metal. Bands like Sepultura, Amon Amarth, and Megadeth. Her parents preferred more classic rock, like the Eagles, Led Zeppelin, and Deep Purple. But they always went to the American and Bluegrass Festival in Portland as a family; late summer evenings spent with a picnic, enjoying the music and the laughter of friends.

  Zanzi shut her eyes. Friends she may never see again, wiped out by madmen. She had no way of knowing. She clenched her fists tight, her nails cutting into her palms. Once she and Tilly were free, she was going to get to Avondale. He would have a way, some way,
of knowing. For now, she would just have to be content with her memories. She vowed that if she survived, she would erect a memorial to her friends.

  ***

  The helicopter reached Portland and bumped to the ground.

  “Keep quiet, okay?” Zanzi said.

  Tilly smiled, for once not verbalizing her thoughts.

  The doors to the hold were yanked open amid shouted instructions. “Take all these crates to the loading dock. The next load will be here in thirty minutes.”

  “All of them?”

  “What did I just say? Do I have to repeat everything? Seriously?”

  “Sorry, sir.”

  Boots stomped away to be replaced by the chug of a forklift. Zanzi held her breath as their crate was lifted out and they bounced along rutted ground. She breathed in and from the scents around them tried to figure out exactly where they were. Propane and oil were all she could detect, and a hint of Avgas. Portland didn’t have too many large, flat, open areas to set up a camp; the most logical place was down by the river, or a school sportsground, close to the main hospital and the freeway.

  The forklift dropped the crate onto a hard surface and screeched it against something hard.

  Tilly stiffened as the tines of the forklift clanged against concrete.

  “It’s okay,” Zanzi whispered. She hated being stuck inside the crate as much as Tilly did.

  They had to wait another couple of hours before finally, they heard a whisper. “Zanzi?”

  Zanzi banged on the side of the crate, making as much noise as she dared. “In here.”

  The latches pinged as they sprang open and the lid was pushed off. Glorious cool night air brushed Zanzi’s face. She helped Tilly out and into a large canvas tent pitched over a concrete pad. They were surrounded by stacks of supplies. Food, water, and medicine.

  Zanzi smiled. “You’re Doctor Lahm?” she said. Standing to one side of the crate was the same scientist that had flown to Devil’s Falls with Alba a couple of days before.

  “Yes. Call me Josie.”

  Doctor Josie Lahm had long, straight black hair, twisted into a bun and held with a red pencil. Her skin was pale, the whites of her eyes were red with dark, puffy bags underneath. Zanzi had seen the same look when she was at university. It came from hours and hours of study and work.

  Zanzi smiled again. “Where to now?”

  “Back to my trailer. Once it’s safe, we can move you out. Security is lax once you’re inside the camp. They want everyone to have the supplies. I’m sure you’re hungry, and I’ve organized some clothes for you. Army fatigues, I’m sorry.”

  “Anything is better than these gray overalls,” Zanzi said.

  They followed Josie past tent after tent filled with supplies. Mostly water and electrolyte drinks, like the crate they had been smuggled in. There were pallets of basic food as well. Rice, wheat, flour, sugar, dried fruits, and piles of canned goods. There was even a tent full of beer and wine. The camp was well organized. Electrified high fences kept the Rabids at bay. It was set up like a drive-through. Citizens could come and show their identification. After being checked over by the medical staff, they were given a ration booklet and a map to where supplies were. The camp was quiet for now. Zanzi suspected it would be a few days before survivors started to come in large numbers.

  After a disaster or catastrophic event, most people went through three stages: impact, rescue, recovery. Folks normally had a few days of food on hand, maybe a couple of weeks at a stretch.

  Power. How long would that stay on?

  The staff manning the facility had living quarters set up at the back. Josie led Zanzi and Tilly to the last trailer on the row, facing a copse of trees and, beyond that, the interstate. They were close to the river and main roads. Once they were rested and supplied, Zanzi wanted to get out of there. Find Avondale and seek the answers to her questions.

  Josie waved Zanzi and Tilly inside the trailer, shutting the door with a click. She shoved a pile of clothing into their arms. “You can get dressed back there.” She gestured to the bedroom at the back. “There’s a bathroom if you want to freshen up.”

  “You go first, Tilly,” Zanzi said. She waited until she could hear the shower running before looking at Doctor Josie Lahm. “Why are you helping? Aren’t you one of them?”

  Josie’s eyes flashed angrily. “At first, yes. Now, no.” She pointed outside. “If I had known what they had planned, I would never have agreed to work with them. I tried many times to leave. I did for a few months…” She went silent. She pulled a bottle of wine from a cupboard, offering a glass to Zanzi.

  “No thanks. I’m good. Need to keep my mind sharp.”

  Josie poured herself a large glass, her hand shaking. “I’m helping you because your mother helped me. I left ReinCorp for a few months, tired of all the politics and the toxic work environment. But ReinCorp grew tired of asking nicely for me to return and forced the issue. They knew of my research, trying to help my daughter. So they took her, leaving me a message: come back and she’s safe.”

  “What research?” Zanzi’s interest was piqued.

  “Nanotechnology. Specifically, how nanomaterials interact with cells, what materials are safe to use. How we can use nanites for biomedical advancement.”

  “You helped do this? Surely you had to wonder what all that research and development was for?” Zanzi slammed her fist on the bench. “Do you know how many people have suffered? Do you want to know what Offenheim showed me?”

  Josie cast her eyes to the floor, refusing to meet Zanzi’s stare. “I’m sorry. But I was one person, part of a large team. We were given goals and problems to solve. I didn’t know about this until the day it happened. As a scientist yourself, I thought you would understand. I, like many others, suffer from obsessive behavior. Each step, I was closer and closer. My daughter had cauda equina syndrome. All I wanted was for her to have a normal life. To not have to use a colostomy bag. To have children. That’s all I wanted. Not this.” Josie gulped down her wine and poured herself another glass.

  “Did you try surgery?” Zanzi said.

  “We tried everything. It became too much for my husband, seeing our child go through so much pain. After a while, he left. I vowed to find a cure, threw everything into my research. When ReinCorp offered me all the money and materials I needed, I jumped at the chance. Then they took Harriet and used her as a guinea pig. They cured her and made her stronger than she had ever been, but I saw the tragedy in her. Thanks to Cal, we got her out.”

  “Harriet’s your daughter?”

  “Yes. Why?”

  Zanzi bolted up and reached for the wine bottle. Her heart thumped at a thousand miles an hour. A lump the size of a watermelon formed in her throat. How do you tell a mother her daughter is dead? Sliced open. Experimented on by the demented Alba. She gulped down the glass of pinot gris, her mind whirring.

  She looked back up at Josie, her eyes filled with tears. There were no words.

  “What is it? What happened?”

  “I’m sorry. Harriet’s dead,” was all Zanzi could say.

  Josie dropped to her knees and howled, her sobs deep and painful. She curled into a ball and hugged her legs.

  Zanzi slouched back down. She didn’t know what to do. Comfort her or leave her to her grief?

  The bathroom door slid open. Tilly was dressed in gray fatigues, her hair wet. “What happened?”

  “Harriet was her daughter.”

  “Oh.” Tilly blinked. “Oh,” she said again. “We had a dog once when I was young. Sparkles. She was black and had floppy ears that would cover her eyes when she ran. I don’t know why she was called Sparkles. I didn’t name her. I mean, that’s a weird name for a dog. Even my dad said so. Dogs should have a strong name like Rex or Max, or something else with X in it… I came home from school one day and Dad…”

  “Tilly,” Zanzi said, keeping her voice soft, “not now.” She looked at Josie. She was sitting on the floor with her back against the kitchen
counter, head in her hands.

  “Who did it?” Josie said.

  “Alba.”

  “I should have guessed.” Josie leapt up, gripping the edge of the countertop, whitening her knuckles. “I’m going to kill her.”

  “She’s dead. Zanzi shot her under her chin.” Tilly mimed the motion using her fingers.

  “Is that true?” Josie said.

  Zanzi’s stomach lurched. “Yes. It’s true.” She was suddenly overcome by guilt at what she had done.

  “Because of Harriet?”

  “Mostly, yes.”

  Josie sniffed and wiped away her tears with the back of her hand. You remind me so much of Cal, Zanzi. She was always willing to help too. I’m going back to The Eyrie to end this madness. It has to stop. Offenheim, Killian. All of them have to die.”

  “Aren’t they impervious? I had to electrocute Alba before she died.”

  “I have to try. They’ll never stop otherwise.”

  “Let’s think this through. Why are you here in Portland?” Zanzi said.

  “To test the survivors. To see if they have nanites in their systems. And why some of them want the spinal fluid.”

  “So. If you suddenly show back up at The Eyrie, they’re going to be suspicious?”

  “Not if I take back a subject. Say I’ve made a breakthrough and need my lab.”

  “What are you using here?”

  “Nothing yet. It’s still being set up at the hospital.” Josie gestured outside. “Not far from here.”

  “Can you smuggle me back?”

  “I don’t see how. Nothing’s going back.”

  “What if I looked like a victim? Cover me in blood. We’d still need a Rabid, like we saw in Devil’s Falls.” Zanzi clapped her hands. “The guards will never check.”

  “That could work. It’s extremely risky, though. We don’t even have weapons.”

  “True, but I know where we can get some.”

  “There could be another way…” Josie trailed off and poured herself another large glass of wine and opened a fresh bottle, offering a glass to each of them.