BITTEN Omnibus Edition (Books 1-3): The Resurrection Virus Saga

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BITTEN Omnibus Edition (Books 1-3): The Resurrection Virus Saga Page 54

by Tristan Vick


  “No, I’m afraid the reports of my death have been greatly exaggerated,” Hemingway said with a diminutive smile curling onto her slender lips.

  “How the hell did you find us?” Ulysses asked.

  “To be honest, I wasn’t actually looking for you boys. No offense.”

  “None taken,” Jared said, realizing what she was about. “You went back to the facility to try and salvage your research, didn’t you?”

  “Imagine my surprise when I got there,” she said with raised brows showing her deep sense of shock at having lost all her research. “It was completely decimated.”

  “I’m afraid things took a turn for the worse rather quickly,” Ulysses interjected.

  “I presumed as much,” Hemingway answered.

  Captain Nivek Rowland of the outfit got in the front passenger side and signaled Hemingway to roll out. Dr. Hemingway hit the gas and drove over a couple more Biters as if she were enjoying a turn at the murder and mayhem video game Grand Theft Auto, then she glanced once more into the mirror. “So, I have to ask, where’s General Greer?”

  Jared stared back at her from the mirror with a solemn expression on his face. Doctor Hemingway knew that look all too well. It was the same look she recognized every time she had to inform someone who had been waiting on pins and needles for a loved one to come out of surgery alive, that they’d lost them. She could see it through the cracks in the Marine’s hard façade, remorse and sympathy.

  Her eyes narrowed at him through the rear-view. “Tell it to me straight, Sergeant. You owe me that much.”

  “I’m afraid General Greer didn’t make it out of the Third Coast alive, ma’am. He was buried back there with the rest of them.”

  Looking back out the front windshield as they tore down the highway, Hemingway became lost in her thoughts. They had been lovers for a time, the General and her. They remained close friends for a longer time after that. But she never expected him to just be gone one day.

  “I’m sorry to hear that,” she said, her voice cracking from the stress of her emotional turmoil. Struggling to regain her composure, she cleared her throat and asked, “What about Rachael Ramirez? Was she with you as well? When I crawled out of the wreckage, I didn’t find her body. I assumed she got out and made the rendezvous at Bradley Air Force Base.”

  “She was,” Jared informed. “She was instrumental in helping people get out of the base as it went up in flames. But I’m afraid she didn’t make it out either. We lost a lot of good people, Marines and civilians alike.”

  Patricia Hemingway was greatly disappointed. She had felt that if anyone could make it out of that alive, it would have been Rachael.

  “Just one question, ma’am,” Ulysses said, raising his hand as if he were one of her medical students.

  “Go ahead, Staff Sergeant.”

  “Who’s in charge now that the whole world has gone to hell in a hand basket?”

  Doctor Hemingway frowned and then slammed on the breaks. Hard. The Hummer lurched to a halt throwing everyone forward and then slamming them back in their seats.

  “Whoa!” Ulysses hollered, as he reached out to steady himself as the Hummer skidded to an abrupt stop.

  Patricia Hemingway threw her arm over the passenger seat, twisted around, and looked back at the both of them with a stern look pressed upon her face. “I’m afraid nobody is, at the moment. Not until we can get communications back up. Most are just scrambling to get some answers. The rest are too busy trying not to die.”

  “Any information regarding POTUS?” Jared asked.

  Doctor Hemingway frowned and then sat back in her chair and folded her arms across her chest. She hadn’t any answers for them.

  Seeing as Dr. Hemingway was at a loss for words, Captain Rowland continued with the debriefing for her. “Communications with POTUS went dark after they dropped the bomb over Newcastle,” she said in a quiet voice. “The ensuing EMP of the nuclear blast knocked out our communications grid nationwide. If there ever was a worst-case scenario gentlemen, believe me when I say, this is it.”

  Ulysses Noble nudged Jared Barnes in the arm and then leaned in and whispered, “We have to tell her.”

  “I know,” Jared whispered back. “I’m getting to it.”

  “Well, spit it out,” Doctor Hemingway said, having overheard their little aside.

  “The young woman, Alyssa Briggs”

  “The friend of Rachael’s,” Hemingway interjected.

  “Yeah, that’s the girl,” Jared continued. “We, rescued her from the facility, hoping to protect her from the imminent attacks. She was bitten just as we got the heck out of Dodge. She hasn’t turned yet. But we had to leave her sixty miles down the road in a meat freezer.”

  Excited by the news, Doctor Hemingway turned back around. “Where is she?” she inquired, with a newfound urgency pressing on her voice. “Where is she exactly? You must take me to her immediately so we can help her…before it’s too late.”

  11

  Unexpected Discovery

  Joey’s Meat Market, Near Buffalo, New york

  The pickup truck sputtered as it ate up its last drop of gasoline and then came to a halt. Gordon hit the steering wheel out of frustration and said, “Well, that’s it for the gas.”

  The small corgi riding in the rear cargo bed of the truck let out a cheerful bark.

  “I guess we’ll just have to hoof it from here on out,” he informed, winking at the woman.

  “Do you hear that?” the woman asked Gordon.

  The pair grew deathly quiet as they strained their ears. Apart from the dog’s panting, everything fell silent.

  “Yeah, I hear it. It sounds like a motor of some kind.”

  He opened the door, slid out of the cab, placed his cowboy hat on his head, and looked around.

  The woman also got out of the vehicle and proceeded to pick up the small dog and set him down on the ground next to her.

  “Over there,” Gordon said, pointing at a small building.

  The woman looked toward where he was pointing and read the writing on the glass window. It said “Joey’s Meat Market and Deli” and, sure enough, the grumbling sound of the motor was coming from the building.

  Gordon fetched his shotgun which was hanging in the back window of his pickup truck and slung it over his shoulder. He also grabbed his stainless steel Smith & Wesson Model 686 out from the glove box and tucked it into the back of his waistband.

  Turning toward the woman, he said, “Stay close. If there’s any trouble, just get behind me.”

  Gordon walked up to the entrance of Joey’s and looked around. There didn’t appear to be anything out of the ordinary. He looked back at the hesitant woman. “Wait here. I’ll go first and check to see if it’s safe.”

  With that, Gordon opened the front door; he started at the tinkling chime of the entrance bell.

  The woman looked down at the corgi and said, “Don’t get your hopes up, girl. I doubt there are any scraps. Besides, the meat would have spoiled a long time ago, I’m afraid.”

  The corgi wined, as if she was saddened by the news.

  Suddenly Gordon reappeared, startling them both. “The coast is clear.”

  The woman and the dog entered into the building. Once inside, she looked over at Gordon, who held his pistol in his hand and informed her, “The noise is coming from the back freezer.”

  Together all three went to the back. Sure enough, there was a freezer hooked up to a gasoline generator.

  “What do you suppose is in there?” the woman asked, eyeballing the large metal container suspiciously.

  “A whole lotta dead meat, I reckon,” Gordon joked.

  He looked at the woman, who smiled weakly at his joke.

  “Well, let’s hope it’s the kind that stays dead.”

  Gordon Longstaff pulled back the hammer of the revolver and reached down to unlatch the door. “Get ready,” he said. Pulling the lever, he opened the freezer; cold air flooded the room with a hiss.

>   Swinging the door wide, Gordon stepped back and trained his gun at the opening just in case something sprang out at them, and waited for the mist to evaporate.

  “Oh my God!” the woman gasped. Rushing into the freezer she ran up to the girl, frozen to death, sitting in the corner. “Alyssa! Who did this to you?”

  “You know this woman?” Gordon asked, stepping up behind her.

  “Yes. I know her well. Her name is Alyssa. She was with me…before I lost my memory.”

  “It appears you’re getting your memory back.”

  Rachael turned toward Gordon and smiled tentatively.

  Recognizing her relief, he smiled back at her with his perfect white teeth. “You remember, don’t you?”

  Holding out her hand, she said to him, “My name is Rachael Ramirez.”

  Gordon took her hand and shook it.

  “I just wanted to say thank you. For helping me out back there. And, you know, for not murdering me on the beach.”

  “It’s my pleasure not murdering helpless women and their pets,” he replied in jest. “And it’s only fair I give thanks where thanks is due. I want to thank you, too…for not slicing me open me with that jagged, broken glass bottle you were keeping hidden away.”

  Rachael blushed and brushed her hair out of her eyes. “Oh, you saw that?”

  Gordon tipped his hat at her and smiled and watched as she shrugged helplessly. But before another word could be said, they heard the rumble of an engine and a car pulled up outside.

  Car doors opened and then slammed as several people got out. They weren’t alone.

  Rachael and Gordon shared nervous glances with one another as they considered their options.

  “Do you think they’re friendlies?” Rachael asked in a hushed whisper.

  Gordon reached down and slid out his revolver. “I’m afraid there’s no way of tellin’. But I ain’t takin’ any chances.”

  12

  Old Friends

  Joey’s Meat Market, near Buffalo, New york

  Undaunted by the sudden arrival of strangers, the corgi barked and rushed outside to meet them head on.

  “Hold your fire,” a voice called out. “It’s just a dog.”

  “Alright,” Gordon said in a hushed voice, gently pushing Rachael behind him. “I’ll handle this.”

  He reached back and pulled the 686 out of his belt. With his Smith & Wesson firmly in hand, Gordon stepped out of the freezer and cautiously inched toward the back of the room. There were no windows in the back of the deli, making it impossible to visually confirm how many there were or how well armed they were.

  Unable to do much good from the inside, Gordon looked back at Rachael, winked one time, and then boldly stepped out the back door. Suddenly a flurry of voices erupted.

  “He’s got a gun!” one man shouted.

  “Lay your weapon down on the ground, kick it over here, and then lay down, face first, and place your hands behind your back,” another commanded.

  “I mean you no trouble,” Gordon informed them, however, in all the commotion they didn’t seem to catch his meaning, or, more likely, they simply didn’t care.

  “I won’t ask again,” the same commanding voice relayed, more forcefully this time just to be sure his warning got across. “Get down on the ground and place your hands behind your back. Now!”

  Rachael rolled her eyes. All this macho posturing and noise was such a waste of time and energy. She had better things to do than sit around waiting for a bunch of high-strung, pistol-wielding men all to try and figure out how to get the best of one another.

  Letting out a sigh, Rachael stepped out of the back of the deli and almost tripped over the corpse of a zombie. Stumbling a bit she got her balance and then looked up at the group of men.

  Suddenly all the commotion died down as all eyes were on her.

  “Rachael?” a familiar voice inquired.

  Rachael looked over and saw Jared Barnes.

  “It’s me,” she replied, tears welling up in the corners of her eyes.

  Unexpectedly, Jared rushed up to her, picked her up in his arms, spun her around, and gave her a long, hard, bear hug.

  “Aren’t you a sight for sore eyes,” he said, looking at her fondly.

  “You can put me down now,” she wheezed.

  “Oh, right,” Jared replied, somewhat embarrassed that he’d embraced her for far longer than he had intended.

  Brushing her bangs back behind her ear, Rachael looked over at Ulysses, who had his knee jammed in Gordon’s back, and had Gordon’s nose planted firmly in the ground.

  “You can let him up,” she said to Ulysses. “He’s good people.”

  Ulysses Noble shot her a bewildered glance and, after a long pause, replied, “As the lady wishes.”

  “What?” Captain Rowland asked, entirely confused. Getting into Ulysses’ face he shouted, “Since when do you take orders from a civilian, soldier?”

  Jared nudged up to the Captain and said, “She’s one of us, Sir.”

  “A Marine?” the Captain balked.

  “No, Sir. A survivor,” Jared replied. “That’s all any of us are now.”

  Climbing off Gordon, Ulysses helped him back to his feet. “If she vouches for you, that’s good enough for me.”

  Captain Rowland lowered his weapon and then looked over at Rachael suspiciously. “So, then, the pressing question is who exactly are you, miss?”

  “My name is Rachael. Rachael Ramirez,” She informed the Marine. It was weird for her introducing herself like this. For the past few days she hadn’t the slighted recollection who she was. Now, she found herself surrounded by familiar faces. It felt as though she were introducing a secret lover to her family for the first time.

  Dusting himself off, Gordon looked around as he straightened the lapel of his jacket. Somewhat confused, he couldn’t imagine how Rachael had them eating out of the palm of her hand after merely manifesting. After scanning all the faces of the group who were looking at Rachael as if she were a ghost, he turned back to her and asked, “Are you some kind of famous person or something?”

  Rachael laughed. “No, I’m not famous.”

  “She will be, though,” a woman’s voice spoke out.

  Everyone turned to see Doctor Patricia Hemingway step out from the vehicle.

  “Doctor?” Rachael gasped in shock. She couldn’t believe her eyes. It was the second time in the last half hour that she’d met someone wholly unexpected. Someone who should have been dead, but by hook or crook had managed to beat the odds. “Doctor Hemingway?”

  “Yes, it’s really me.”

  “But how? How are you alive?”

  “It’s all thanks to you, Ms. Ramirez.”

  Gordon listened carefully for any clues to what was going on here, but he was completely in the dark, utterly confused. “I beg your pardon, but I’m not following any of this. How do ya’ll know each other again?”

  Noticing his and Captain Rowland’s confusion, Rachael explained the pertinent details.

  “After the quarantine of Newcastle City failed, I found myself in the company of these gentlemen here,” she said, pointing toward the two soldiers, Jared and Ulysses. “Doctor Hemingway here patched me up and was transporting me to Bradley Air Force Base when our helicopter was shot down. I managed to survive the wreckage and was picked up by some religious zealots who then held me captive for longer than I’d care to remember. After I escaped, I unexpectedly was reunited with my friend Alyssa, and we were making our way out of the city when General Greer and our ever trustworthy Marines here picked us up on the side of the road.

  “Along with a several other survivors, we escaped Newcastle City and found our way to a secret military installation beneath Lake Erie, called Sector 27. But things went south rather quickly. What was supposed to be a safe-haven away from the scourge turned out to be a death-trap instead. The next thing I knew was I was rushing Alyssa and a group of young people out of the base, which was completely overrun with the livi
ng dead. And that’s the last thing I remember before the terrible explosion. The next thing I recall was waking up on the beach, with no memory of who I was or what I was doing there.”

  “You’re lucky you survived,” Gordon said, taken aback by her harrowing story.

  “You don’t know the half of it,” Dr. Hemingway added. “It’s because of Rachael that any of us have a fighting chance.”

  “I beg your pardon, Doc,” Gordon said, turning toward Patricia and adjusting his hat, “but I don’t quite catch your meaning.”

  “As it turns out,” Rachael said, scanning all the faces, “I can’t exactly…how shall I put this…”

  “She’s immune,” Dr. Hemingway informed them, cutting straight to the point.

  “Immune?” Captain Rowland murmured, scratching his chin.

  “Yes. I have a natural immunity to the virus,” Rachael reiterated.

  “But how is that even possible?” Gordon asked.

  “I’ll explain all the details later,” Dr. Hemingway said impatiently. “I’m afraid we have more pressing concerns now.” Turing back toward Rachael she asked, “Did you find her?”

  “Alyssa? Yes,” Rachael said thumbing over her shoulder, “she’s in the freezer. Practically frozen to death. But who would do such a thing?”

  Ulysses Noble cleared his throat, then apologized. “I’m afraid we did that. No hard feelings, but it was the only way to save her.”

  “Save her? From what?”

  Jared put his hand on Rachael’s shoulder. “She was bitten just as we were escaping. We lucked out and found a freezer with a working generator, so we froze her in the hope that we could stop the virus from consuming her. Or, at least, slow it down.”

  “Would that even work?” Gordon inquired, glancing over at Doctor Hemingway.

  “It’s a one in a thousand shot, but if they caught it early enough it might just work,” Dr. Hemingway said as she breezed past and headed toward the rear entrance. “Now come along and help me, we’ve got work to do if we’re going to save your friend.”

  13

  The Threshold

 

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