Serena Rogue (Book 1): Zombie Infestation

by Bushman, LJ

“My kids,” I whispered hoarsely. It was all I could say.

  “We’ll get them back. Dave already started the process. He’s calling local police right now. As well as the closest FBI office. Maybe we can get them back before they leave town. If not, we know they’re coming this way.”

  My throat clogged with unshed tears, I nodded wordlessly and looked out his window. The heat of summer had dulled somewhat, but it remained a warm day. Light reflected off the windows of other office buildings. I closed my eyes against the glare and focused on breathing.

  In. Out. In. Out.

  Robins started talking. At the sound of his voice, my anger boiled to the top. I glared at him through my eyelashes, trying not to let all my hatred for him and his kind show. I wanted him to relax his guard. Let him believe my threats were nothing but the empty prattle of an upset mother.

  “What’s happening? I gather it has to do with Serena’s children?” As if he didn’t know. My eyes focused on my hands. I willed them to stay in my lap and away from my weapon.

  “Yes. They’ve been kidnapped. Serena,” Joseph said catching my attention. I looked up at him. “What about your babysitter. Are they taking her as well?”

  Oh shit. I didn’t know. The alternative was unthinkable. “I’m not sure. Probably. They’re not experienced with kids, from the sound of things. They’ll want her.” I hoped. And if I knew my Lori, she’d convince them they needed her.

  “We’ll deal with that later. The police will let us know if they find anything.” In other words, a body. My mind shied from that line of thinking.

  Dave poked his head around Joseph’s cubicle. “Your calls are coming through to my phone now. There’s one on hold. They say they’re searching for the writer’s handler. That’s still you, right?”

  “Yes, thanks, Dave. I’ll grab it. Wait,” he said suddenly. “Take Serena with you and let her listen with you from your phone. Serena,” he said, looking at me seriously. “I understand you’re upset about your kids, but I need you to hold it together for this call. Can you do that?”

  My initial reaction bristled my nerves, but reason took over. He was sure I wouldn’t or he wouldn’t offer me the chance to listen in. Mutely, I nodded, afraid to speak. I stood to follow Dave.

  Robins stepped in my personal space and touched my arm. I could only guess he figured it to be conciliatory. He figured wrong.

  My temper flared. I stood at my full height. What is it with FBI types thinking they can touch me whenever they want? “Don’t. Touch. Me. For the record, I’m tired of having to tell you FBI guys, hands off.” My voice barely rose above a whisper. “Next guy who touches me without my permission gets his fingers broken.”

  Joseph stood. Dave stopped his trek to his desk. Robins took his damn hand off my arm.

  Robins backed up without a word. I knew I’d just made a personal enemy. Fuck him. He still underestimated me. I’ve seen guys like him who think they’re God’s gift to women. He wasn’t upset out of fear. He was upset I rejected him. Tough shit. My trigger finger itched again. I stuffed my hands in my front pockets to avoid temptation.

  Dave rounded his desk. “On three Joseph?”

  “On three,” Connelly replied, but watched me like someone watched a lit stick of dynamite.

  I observed with interest as they began a silent countdown. Dave held the receiver in his hand with his finger over a line button. I stood next to him, waiting. He held a hand over the mouthpiece and we both listened.

  “I know you’re tracing the call, so I’m going to make this quick,” a woman’s voice said, following Joseph’s greeting.

  “You and your writer friend need to come to the Juarez hotel at noon tomorrow. Wait in the lobby for fifteen minutes. Then move to the restaurant. Get a table for four. You’ll be met there and given more instructions. No extra partners. No wires. The only reason you’re allowed to come is the writer insisted on it.”

  “What about the kids?” Joseph asked. I held my breath waiting for her reply.

  “What about them? She does as she’s told, they’ll be fine. The two of you will be our guests for a week. Pack accordingly.” A soft click told me she’d hung up. That couldn’t be all. No way. I had to know where my kids were going. I balled my fists in impotent frustration. I’d do what they wanted, all right.

  Until I found them.

  Then they’d see what a pissed off mom could do. A pissed off mom who’s been trained to kill. The need for revenge and blood coursed through my veins, but I kept a stranglehold on my anger. I needed to know more about the enemy, first. No matter what the FBI did, I would get my kids back.

  Dave and Joseph dissolved into a flurry of motion. One wrote information and the other got on the phone. I stepped back see both of them. Impressive. My hope of getting my kids back safely rose as I saw their competence and teamwork. Mole or no mole, there were still good people in the FBI.

  “Robins!” Joseph said with some force. “You’re being paged.” He motioned toward the other end of the office. “I think it’s your partner.”

  As soon as Robins left, Joseph turned and grabbed me by my shoulders. I contemplated breaking his fingers. However, considering where my hands had been on him while helping him into the shower—and how much I liked it—I decided not to.

  “Serena, focus on me.”

  I looked away from his hands on my shoulders to his face. The dark bruises under his eyes reminded me of his recent ordeal. He had every reason to make this personal, yet he kept his cool. I took comfort in it.

  I considered myself pretty tough, but only because I needed to be. Being Immune meant I had an obligation to uphold. Being a mother meant I had responsibilities stretching beyond the now. He was tough because he just was—as simple and complicated as that.

  “I’ll protect you to the best of my ability. I promise. Right now, I need the tough woman who came into my hotel room and faced down three armed people. Put aside your emotions as a mother. Scratch that. Channel the emotions and energy. Feed off it. Don’t let it feed off you. Can you do that?”

  His words were low so no one else could hear. It made them intimate and compounded their impact on me. I knew exactly what he meant. I’d done it before, when my ex left me for another woman after the accident. My ex thought he was so smart. I’d known about the other woman long before the accident.

  But because of his infidelity, I knew how to channel my energy. To make it work for me instead of against me. I liked how Joseph put it. Feed off it. My eyes must have answered him because he nodded, then let go.

  Joseph said a few words to Dave and we left to plan things out for tomorrow without worrying about someone overhearing us, especially Robins. I never did meet Joseph’s supervisor.

  Maybe if I had, things would’ve happened differently.

  Chapter 7

  In the end, Joseph and I decided having me stay at a hotel would be too risky. At least at his house, we’d be warned by the alarm system if anyone broke in. The change in locations had the added benefit of being able to make plans in person instead of by phone. It made more sense all around. I didn’t know how much of my gear I should show him, but decided to bring it all in anyway.

  After stowing my things in the guest room, I followed my nose to his kitchen. Breakfast. I swore I smelled bacon and eggs. My cooking skills were mediocre, at best. Having someone else do the cooking was always a treat. This was no exception.

  Breakfast for dinner sounded wonderful. I needed comfort food. And despite the pull I felt for Joseph, food had to be the only comfort I allowed myself until this assignment was over. I closed my eyes and took a deep breath to calm the panic threatening to swallow me whole whenever my kids crossed my mind.

  As I entered his kitchen, I noted the cheery decor. The soft yellow color on the walls was soothing and, oddly, for the first time, I wondered if he had a woman in his life.

  “Is there a significant other I need to worry about coming over and bitch-slapping me?” I smiled when he looked up an
d frowned in confusion.

  “Why would a significant other, uh, bitch-slap you? You’re part of my assignment and under my protection.”

  As if. How cute, he believed what he said. “For starters, I’m single.” Not to mention, I had the allure of a cat in heat to a tomcat—impossible to resist. I had no illusions. It wasn’t me, not only my natural charms. I was decent looking, but I lured men in without trying and most women hated me. I sighed.

  “So? Right now, you’re my partner. Any girlfriend of mine is going to have to understand I work with women. For the record, there’s no one you need to worry about walking in and surprising us.”

  I flushed, thinking of ways someone could surprise us. My first thoughts were highly sexual. As a writer, my fertile imagination didn’t need much to go on. And I had proof he possessed plenty to inspire the least imaginative woman. I pulled open the fridge wanting milk or juice. When I was sure my face wasn’t beet red, I grabbed the gallon of milk and turned toward the cupboards, which were done in a warm medium brown stain.

  Someone loved this kitchen once. “Is this a family home you inherited? Your kitchen is set up well and homey.” I opened the nearest cabinet and found stacks of plates.

  “The cups are in the cupboard to your right.” He pointed to the cabinet in question. “I bought my home and decorated it myself. If that’s what you’re trying to find out.” I turned in surprise. He didn’t look the artistic type. A blush crept along his jaw line. I smiled. Bet he didn’t tell many people that.

  “You did a great job.” Note to self. No, make that two notes to self. One, quit assuming along gender roles. I knew better. Two, he was cute when he blushed.

  We sat at the kitchen table and ate the bacon and eggs I’d smelled earlier, as well as fresh fruit I put together from his fridge. My immunity had a few beneficial side effects. One of them was the higher metabolism. After I married, my body always hovered on the plump side no matter how many diets and exercise plans I tried. Now, my body stayed sleek and toned, and I had to eat more to keep up my energy.

  So far, I couldn’t figure out why my metabolism changed. But there were times when the need for constant refueling got in the way. My senses prickled and I looked up. Joseph was staring.

  “What?” I picked up a napkin and wiped my mouth. Did I have egg trails or a milk mustache?

  “I’ve never seen a woman eat so fervently. They usually pick at their food. Even long term girlfriends don’t dive in so readily.”

  What was I supposed to say to that? “Um, thanks?”

  He laughed. I calmed as the sound filled the kitchen. “You’re different than anyone I’ve ever met.” He had no idea.

  “Thanks again?” This time he laughed deep from his belly. I appreciated his laughter at a time like this, needed it.

  “You’re welcome. It’s refreshing to meet someone unapologetically themselves.”

  “Believe me, it was a hard learned lesson.” In other words, I’m not telling you the details. My ex had tried to make me believe I wasn’t worth the time of day. The road to my current self-confidence was a hard one. Not a road I planned on revisiting for Joseph’s curiosity.

  He seemed to catch my drift. “I like it. Now, what do you know about this assignment,” he said, easily changing the subject from my personal life to business.

  “Only what the Suits told me. Former army personnel. Anti-virus, super virus. And for whatever reason, they wanted a writer like me, even a ghostwriter. That’s the bit I’m having trouble swallowing.”

  “Me too. I don’t think they want just any writer. I think they specifically want you. The agents you call the Suits are clueless, but someone higher up knows this is a set up. They have to.” He sat back in the wooden chair. “And if they don’t, they should. This whole mess stinks. It has from the beginning.”

  “I agree.”

  “Why’d you agree to do this then?”

  Oh shit. “How could I refuse?” Okay, not one of my better comebacks. Giving him my real reasons didn’t seem like a hot idea.

  The silence stretched on. The food that had given me such comfort a moment ago, sat like a lump of lead in my gut. I blinked away tears. He didn’t know the can of worms he attempted to open.

  “Someone did a real number on you, didn’t they,” he said quietly.

  I simply nodded, not trusting my voice.

  “I’m sorry. I don’t know why they’re after you, but it plays a part in this. I need you to trust me. Why you?” He picked up his glass of milk and drank it, never taking his eyes off me.

  Holy hell in a hand basket. He was right. Not only did I need to trust him, he needed to be able to trust me. I wished whomever had put me in this position would take a long trip on the road to perdition, then prepped myself to give him my answer.

  “Off the record?”

  He eyed me warily and I couldn’t blame him. Off the record confessions were never happy ones. This would be no exception.

  I saw him come to his decision a split second before he nodded. “Off the record.”

  “I’ve been exposed to the virus. I didn’t catch it. The government has tested me every year since the accident.”

  “Accident?”

  “Yes. A few years back, there was an accident involving a truck near our neighborhood. We were told anyone within a certain radius had been exposed to a biochemical weapon. Later, they changed their tune and said it was AIDS. They were worried it’d become airborne. Turns out, it was all half-truths and hidden agendas.” I heard the bitterness in my voice and tried to get my objectivity back. He needed the details, not my emotions.

  “What do you mean?”

  “In my opinion, the original plan was to blame the whole incident on foreign terrorists. Later, when they said AIDS, my bullshit meter redlined. If AIDS went airborne, the news would have rocked the world.” I swallowed hard. The tears hovered near the surface. I needed to stop, but couldn’t. I didn’t know how much he knew about the virus we were trying to get the antidote for. How did you tell someone zombies were real?

  “Turns out the truth was worse than I imagined. We were exposed to AIDS when the truck wrecked. The accident was an excuse to go door to door. I’d been the only one home, so I’m the only one they exposed in our house. I remember thinking I’d gotten stung by a bee or bitten. I’m pretty sure I was pricked with a needle.”

  His eyes darkened. Yeah, he understood where the story headed.

  “A whole neighborhood ended up sick for some stupid government experiment. Only, I was and remain, a fly in their ointment.”

  “Why? Or how?” He listened intently. So far, he hadn’t rejected me or my words. I hoped he wouldn’t. He had to believe me or we were seriously handicapped.

  “Why? I’m not showing any symptoms yet.” And I wouldn’t because I was immune, but I couldn’t tell him. I didn’t know what he had to report when this was all said and done.

  “They can’t figure out the how. I’m sure if they could, I would’ve been taken into custody on some trumped up reason and kept for their lab studies.” I’d like to see them try now. I was a lot tougher than I had been. Shit. I’d almost forgotten about that damn lights-out drug.

  “You’re immune to AIDS?” I heard the amazement in his voice and disliked it intensely. It bordered on disbelief and he needed to accept what I said.

  “Has anyone told you the real problem with AIDS?” I asked bitterly.

  “The real problem? Besides it being a death sentence?” he said as if death was the worst possible problem.

  “Yeah, besides that.”

  He sat up straighter and leaned forward. “I’m guessing they haven’t, or we wouldn’t be having this conversation.”

  “Good guess.” I paced a moment before continuing. “The disease brings on death—if you’re lucky. The people with the classic symptoms of HIV and AIDS are the Infected whose bodies simply shut down. They can’t fight off viral attacks because their immune systems are weak. I know I’m over simplifyin
g, but you know that much, right?”

  He nodded without speaking.

  “Those are the people whose bodies reacted exactly opposite of what the government tried to accomplish.”

  “Which government?” Good. He was asking the right questions now.

  “I don’t know who started it, but so far, I know of three countries involved. Africa was the original testing ground.”

  “Three countries?”

  I heard the disbelief in his voice and sighed again. He already had trouble believing me. The zombie news wouldn’t go down well.

  “I’m sure there are more, now. More mad scientists and even nuttier people in positions of power trying to make super soldiers to topple governments, take on world dominance, whatever blows their hair back.”

  That got his attention. Something sparked in his eyes. I wanted to ask what he knew. I debated for another moment and decided not to—yet. I needed to get the story told before I chickened out and shut down.

  “The serum works the way they designed it in some people. Makes them smarter, stronger, sexier, and immune to most common diseases. In others, it causes AIDS. A third group of Infected go through the first stages so fast, you barely have time to see the physical improvements before they become seriously ill.”

  “You’re saying the government started the AIDS virus in an attempt to make super soldiers?”

  “Yes. I don’t know who started it, but the U.S. has been involved since early on. Think about it, every other plague in the human race can be traced back to medieval times or earlier. Even cancer. We just didn’t know what we were dealing with. AIDS is a modern disease. A man-made modern disease that is spreading out of control.”

  “If what you’re saying is true,” he paused. The implications and horror of my words crossed his face. “Then the hue and cry of it alone is worth killing people for. The government has to keep it quiet. They wouldn’t want the story of the Traitors to get out.”

  Now I was confused. “The traitors? What traitors?”

  “Sorry. That’s what we’ve dubbed them in our office.”