“Who?” Tyler repeated, slightly louder now.
“He’s not here right now,” Anna told him. “You have to be patient. Any excitement or anger is going to make things worse and speed up the disease, so please close your eyes and rest until I tell you. There you go. No. Keep them closed. Now, the man who did this to you also has the cure. When the time comes you’re going to have to hold him hostage, but don’t kill him.”
Tyler’s eyes popped open and he glared. “But he deserves to die. It’s not just me. It’s my whole family and the Holden’s from across the street. They got it too. I saw them and their eyes…it was horrible. It was fucking horrible!”
“Sshh,” she whispered. “Not so loud, Tyler. You’ll be able to kill him but first we need to get the cure. Now, you have to calm down for your own good. I can’t help you if the disease gets you, too.”
“Okay. Thanks. You’re the nicest person I’ve met since all this started.”
She smiled a lie and said, “Close your eyes.” Now, by her estimation, she had thirty minutes to come up with a plan. Thirty minutes until Tyler went ballistic, beyond her ability to control. She went over everything she knew about their location: the edge of a rinky-dink town that was bordered on three sides by tree-covered hills and on a fourth by fields where Holsteins grazed placidly behind a simple post and rail fence. She considered her assets: the ticking time bomb that was Tyler, a shaky alliance with Eng that would turn sour the second he got the upper hand and, lastly, the fact Burke could be counted on to do something “heroic” because he thought he was immune.
Oh, and she couldn’t forget the vial of Com-cells lodged in her bra. She had never been more aware of her tits since they started coming in back in the seventh grade. Back then, she hadn’t gone five minutes without giving herself a feel, now she was afraid to move. If the vial slipped out and broke? She didn’t want to think about that.
The thirty minute window she had given herself evaporated in what felt like a blink and twenty-nine minutes later she had yet to think of anything more than pointing Tyler out the front door of the tent and hoping he caused a big enough distraction to allow Anna to slip away.
A minute early, Tyler grimaced and said, “My head is really killing me. Is it time yet?”
“Can you hold on a little while longer? I haven’t heard his jeep yet and you don’t want to ruin your chances at getting the cure.”
Tyler endured the pain for another three minutes and then he groaned loudly. Thuy’s black eyes were instantly upon him. “Are you ok?” she asked him.
“He strained his back when he was captured,” Anna answered, quickly. “I don’t suppose any of you have any Tylenol?”
Heads shook all around, all except Thuy’s. “Maybe Dr. Wilson should take a look at him,” she suggested. “He is a medical doctor, after all.” Anna could tell that Thuy hadn’t been fooled by the excuse.
Anna smiled as though she thought the suggestion was full of merit. “Tyler, it’s time to get up,” she said loud enough for everyone to hear. Quieter, she added, “The man who did this to you is here. He’s in one of the other tents. His name is General, uh, General MacArthur. Run and grab his gun. He won’t…”
“Ms Holloway!” Thuy suddenly demanded. “What are you saying to him?”
“Don’t listen to anyone but me,” Anna continued in a whisper. “They can’t be trusted. Just run to the other tents and don’t let the guards get you.” She reached out to help him up, but at the last second drew her hands back. He didn’t notice. His boyish face had turned mean: his lip was now a snarl and the innocent eyes were visibly darker. He was staring with a building hate at Thuy.
“Anna, is that boy infected?” Thuy was on her feet now as well, with Deckard standing a half-second later. The others remained seated, staring with eyes that bulged wide and fearful.
“He is infected,” Anna answered. She then turned to Tyler and hissed, “Go!”
“No! Don’t touch that zipper!” Thuy commanded with such authority that Tyler hesitated with his hand on the zipper. “He can’t be allowed to leave. He will spread the Com-cells outside the perimeter of the quarantined zone.”
“Ignore her,” Anna hissed.
Curiously, no one added a thing, nor did anyone but Eng jump up when Tyler started to unzip the tent door. He raised his eyebrows toward Anna and asked: “Breakout?” She nodded.
Thuy started forward, but Deckard held her back. “Don’t. He’s infected,” he said.
“Exactly!” Thuy said. “That’s why he can’t be allowed to leave. Why am I the only one who sees this? Every one of you knows what’s at stake. You know what will happen if this gets out. It’ll destroy the entire country.”
Tyler had turned at all the shouting and wavered. His mind was crawling with the black Com-cells and his soul was beginning to burn with desires that were too vile to even consider and yet he was still free enough to try to make sense out of what he was hearing. Were they thinking he was going to destroy America? Was that real or was that more of their games? He was beginning to think that they were playing at something. Like this was a cruel practical joke. He wavered, fighting to right his thinking so he could understand. As he stood there, John Burke ambled to his feet and with a sigh, he started toward the boy.
“I’ll keep him penned up iffin that’s what y’all want.”
Anna was shocked to see that it was Deckard of all people who pulled Burke back by the collar. “You’re not thinking straight, Thuy,” he said as he hauled Burke back, easily. This sentence upset the entire apple cart. Anna was sure that no one had ever accused Dr. Lee of not thinking straight. Everyone stared at Deckard in disbelief and that included Thuy who could only splutter.
Deckard went on: “You’re not thinking. Your guilt is blinding you to reason. This tent can’t hold one of them. Pretty soon, he’ll tear it to pieces and if we stop him then we’ll only get infected as well and in another couple of hours, we’ll be the ones who tear it apart. And when we do, we’ll escape and spread the germs from here to Hartford.”
“Then what do we do?” Thuy asked in a soft, powerless voice. She felt faint like some belle out of the old south with a case of the vapors.
Deckard put a hand around her waist to steady her. “The only thing we can do is hope the guard shoots him. Either that or we kill him ourselves and throw his body out the front.”
Now Thuy’s legs buckled under the weight of her guilt, because once again this was her fault. Even with Anna and Eng right there, she couldn’t see it any other way. “I can’t do that,” she said, sagging to the floor of the tent. “It’s not right. None of this is right.”
“I wouldn’t worry, none. He’s a dead already,” Burke remarked. “He jes don’t know it yet.” He made a sudden leap for the door and both Eng and Anna rushed to get between him and Tyler.
“Go Tyler!” Anna yelled, grabbing Burke’s stained chambray work shirt. “Run! Get to the general.”
Tyler had been a step behind during the entire conversation, but he heard the order and it made sense. Action was what was needed. Action and killing and…eating. He rushed out of the tent with a sudden hunger that was like a cold railroad spike right in the pit of his stomach.
He ran, and Anna went to the front of the tent to watch. Behind her Eng urged her to run as well: “Go! Now!” But she held him back. The guard, in his heavy mask, was slow to recognize the blur that suddenly leapt out of the tent. “Hey!” he cried, uselessly. Tyler wasn’t stopping for anything, especially a useless scream. The guard gave chase, hampered by the thick protective suit and clinging mask.
Only then did Anna take off running. Eng rushed after her leaving the others standing there staring, wondering what to do. Chuck was first to jump to his feet. “Come on,” he drawled, helping Stephanie up. “This is our chance.”
“They might could shoot y’all,” Burke said. As he thought of himself as both immune and special, he wasn’t looking to go rushing off half-cocked.
“I’ll take gettin’ shot over bein’ eaten alive any day,” Chuck said and left through the front opening, dragging Stephanie behind him. She didn’t relish either option.
“You heard him,” Wilson said to Burke, “He does have a point. Being immune won’t save you if I turn and get a hankering for hill-billy.” They also left and now it was just Deckard and Thuy.
“We’re going,” Deckard told Thuy. She thought she could stand but just then, there came three loud gunshots, her body flinching with each one. There was a long pause and then came two more shots. “We’re out of time. Please get up.” When she refused to look up, he calmly bent down and hefted her hundred pounds up onto his shoulder. She didn’t fight it. He was too strong and she didn’t care whether she lived or died.
Deckard stepped out into the gloomy afternoon where everything was chaos. Soldiers were running every which way and Humvees were being gunned into life. He didn’t think he would get far with Thuy on his shoulder but was disappointed that he only made it seventy yards into the light forest before a Humvee came slashing to a halt right in front of him. He half raised his arms as the driver came out pointing an M16A1. Deckard felt his heart drop when he saw that it was Special Agent Meeks with his mask partially askew from having thrown it on so quickly.
“We have orders to shoot all escapees,” Meeks told Deckard. “What do you think about that?”
“I think if you had the guts to shoot, you would’ve done it already,” Deckard replied. “Instead you’re going to march us right back to the tent. It’s just right back there.”
“No, I don’t think so. Not when I have you dead to rights. Not when I can finally deal justice out properly. You see, I am just about sick to death of watching the bad guys walk on technicalities and I’m sure you have your excuses ready and your lawyers all lined up, but you haven’t seen what I’ve seen. You haven’t seen the bodies and the walking dead…and the blood! An hour ago, I was at Kingston. You don’t know what it’s like there. So, no, we aren’t going to walk to the tent. We’re going to save the American people a long drawn out trial. Now, put the girl down, nice and easy so we can do this in a humane manner.”
On his shoulder, Thuy was altogether lifeless and she was like a corpse when he laid her down. “You don’t need to do this,” Deckard said. His gut went queasy as he took a swift glance around. They were close enough to the command post to see that it was deserted. The skeleton crew was busy chasing down the escapees. It was just the three of them.
“I do, actually,” Meeks said quietly. “For all those people out there who will never get justice.” He pulled the trigger and even as he did, Deckard still couldn’t believe it. He was sure Meeks was just bluffing. He was FBI, he was the law and this…this was straight up murder. The bullet traveled the short distance between them and buried itself deep.
Anna heard the kill shot and a few minutes later, she would walk through the drying blood. She and Eng had gotten the furthest: a half mile through the forest. She had no clue where she was or in which direction she was running; for all she knew, she was running back into the quarantine zone and that would’ve been just fine with her. Anything was better than the sure death that the tent represented. She paused at the sound of the gun, wondering who had bought it.
She hoped it was Thuy.
Soon enough, she had her own problems as a series of Humvees drove past them. She and Eng hunkered down, their chests working like billows. “Well?” Anna asked Eng. “Aren’t you trained for this? Escape and Evade?”
“This way,” he said cutting to their left. They didn’t see the soldier who had been dropped off in the wake of the Humvees and he didn’t see them until they were twenty feet away. He immediately opened up with his rifle sending a slew of bullets their way. Luckily for Anna, his aim in his MOPP suit was atrocious. Bullets went everywhere and the sound of the gun in the still forest was like thunder.
“We give up!” Anna screamed at the top of her lungs. She was so loud that Chuck heard her from two hundred yards away as he and Stephanie were being led back to the tent at gunpoint. It made him smirk, however it died away when he saw the blood.
The tent was a glum place when all the prisoners were rounded up. The absence of Deckard and Thuy made the tent seem much larger, not that they could’ve paced. The prisoners, including Wilson and Burke, who hadn’t gotten very far at all, were tied hand and foot with black cord.
“Are you satisfied?” Stephanie spat at Anna.
All things considered, she was satisfied. She had managed to get the very dangerous Tyler out of the tent and the two people who were key in any prosecution against her had been shot trying to escape. “Actually, yes,” she answered, wearing a viper’s grin. In the back of her mind, she began to wonder how she could get rid of the rest of them, Eng included. If they were all to die, she would be in the free and clear. “Quite satisfied.”
Chapter 17
A Photo Opportunity
3:18 p.m.
At about the time Special Agent Meeks was aiming his weapon into Ryan Deckard’s chest, General Collins was sipping scalding black coffee in the situation room, thirty feet below the West Wing of the White House. Irritatingly, he wasn’t drinking the coffee out of a mug; it was being served out of a teacup. The cup was annoyingly tiny and it had faded humming birds on it. The President explained it was a pattern picked out by Edith Wilson, the second of Woodrow Wilson’s First Ladies. This did nothing to stem Collins’ annoyance.
“Oh,” was all Collins said in response. He had literally a thousand things he had to be doing right then and drinking coffee from a ridiculous teacup just wasn’t one of them. Neither was giving a briefing, though this wasn’t exactly a briefing, it felt more like a trial. He sat practically alone on one side of a tremendous table. There were women and men on his side but the closest sat four chairs down, afraid they’d be hit by some of the shit that was almost certainly going to be hurled his way when the President exploded on him.
Directly across from Collins sat the President in a sharp, blue suit. The man had the looks of a weathered actor: still handsome but sagging and wrinkled at the edges. On one side of him sat the Vice-President, and on the other was Marty Aleman, his Chief of Staff. And then there were the Secretaries of this cabinet and that, and further down the line were generals and admirals, stiff with medals and self-importance. Political appointees, every one of them, including the military officers.
People always assumed that the military was all about blood and guts and were promoted simply on the virtue of their skill or knowledge and that was true to a certain extent, or at least to a certain rank. Eventually rank becomes political with both parties advancing men and women who align politically.
Collins was looking at a group of handpicked sycophants who would agree to anything the President wanted.
Normally, being around so much brass and so many suits, made him a touch nervous, but he was just too damned tired to be nervous. Besides the questions, were of a tedious nature: Are the infected persons dangerous? Do they represent a danger to the public at large? How contagious are they? Are they really that contagious? Really? Have you seen one with your own eyes?
“Yes Sir, I have seen one of the infected individuals up close and, in fact, I killed it with a pistol I had borrowed from a state trooper. This was after it came at me in a threatening manner, of course. It survived three gunshots to the torso and kept coming as if it hadn’t even felt a thing. Hopefully that will put to rest the question of them being dangerous.”
“And you killed it with a head shot?” the President asked. It was an odd question, but most of his were. His Chief of Staff had given him a list of questions that only he was allowed to ask and they were not in any particular order. When the briefing was completed, the answers would be edited so that the president would come out in the best light and then the final, much shorter product would be disseminated to the media. Things were moving so quickly that the media was demanding more than low-level aides stutter
ing and making excuses.
Part of the problem was that the very idea of zombies was just so ludicrous, so undignified that the White House had actually been hoping that the media would find a way to break the story without the military feeding it to them. But then the press had been scooped by Cody Cullin and his YouTube videos. The first had been of the massacre and the next two were grainy night shots of zombie attacks. Ever since then, the press had been scrambling to catch up. What they were getting, such as the glaring errors in readiness of the 42nd and the rumors of a dozen or more massacres, was all negative.
The filmed trial/briefing was Marty Aleman’s way of getting in front of the situation by turning the focus on General Collins, and having the President acting as chief prosecutor.
“Can you explain how the situation began and what steps…” The President paused as Marty Aleman whispered into his ear. With a crooked smile, the President began again: “I’m sorry. I’m not used to reading questions from flashcards. Are we sure we can’t use teleprompters?”
Marty looked pained by the question. “No. Absolutely not. There can’t be a hint of indecision over this. You have to come across tough.”
“I never knew flashcards were this tough,” the President joked. He was leader of the free world because he could read a speech off a teleprompter like nobody’s business and he was always quick with a joke—hardly the proper qualifications in General Collins view. “What I meant to say was… Can you explain how the situation began and what steps you took to contain the issue as commander of the 42nd Infantry Division?”
Collins cleared his throat before answering. “The situation began at a pharmaceutical research center south east of Poughkeepsie, New York…” He went through a long song and dance. It was forty wasted minutes repeating information that wasn’t new to anyone in the room. Next, he spoke about the call-up of the 42nd, its failures and its successes. There were very few of the latter and the initial ones could be chalked up to the timely intervention of Courtney Shaw. Even though her interference had been completely illegal, she had saved Collins at least two hours allowing him to scatter a few hundred men around the perimeter. He had no clue how many of them were still alive; not many, he was sure. And yet they had held long enough for him to throw up more fixed lines using the bare bones of skeleton battalions.
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