by Bushman, LJ
“Sounds like a good name. To me, it’s better than calling them terrorists like the Suits did. You’re right, the government doesn’t want the story to get out. If the general public learned that not only did the government run secret tests on the average citizen, but now a bunch of super soldiers, trained in the art of war, have control of at least one type of the serum. Think of the mass hysteria.”
“One type?”
“There are at least three outbreak centers I’ve identified outside of Africa. At least two variations of the virus. The governments involved definitely don’t want this getting out. Which makes it even stranger that they’re hallowing a writer to go in so they can tell their side.”
“I don’t like this. I haven’t since the beginning. If you’re right, then I think there may be at least three factions at work here.”
“Three?”
“Yes. The Traitors who now have control of the virus—at least of the science for spreading it artificially. The governments that want it back.”
Okay, I followed him so far, but who was the third party? I waited for him to tell me. When he didn’t immediately, I wanted to throttle him.
“I’m not sure what to call the third party,” he finally said. “But they’re on your side.”
My side? There was someone besides me on my side? News to me.
He must have sensed my disbelief—perhaps by my inadvertent eye roll.
“The people on your side made sure you had time to prepare. They’ve protected your official file, keeping things out of it that’d give you away. Believe me, if you’re on a watch list because you’ve been exposed to their experimental drug, then somebody knows about your fighting skills. They’ve gone to great lengths to keep it quiet.”
My head spun. Relief washed over me. Someone wanted me alive.
“Hopefully, that’ll be our ace in the hole. It’s the other two factions we need to worry about. One will kill to keep their secrets. We don’t know what the other group really wants or how deep the government is tied into it. Could just be a loose cannon that they’re too afraid of the fallout to admit to.”
My gut agreed with him. “Now what? How do I stay alive, keep my kids safe, and get the antidote?” Not to mention get my hands on whatever the Suits had hit me with when they kidnapped me. I didn’t like that someone knew enough about me to give them something special to put me out. It backed up Joseph’s claim—someone knew about me and my resistance to traditional knock-out drugs, despite the fact I tested negative for the disease.
“Not you, us. It’s us now. I’m going to help you.”
Great. We would see if he sang the same tune when he heard the rest. “There’s one more important thing you need to know.”
“Yeah? What is it?”
“The final stages for those who don’t contract the traditional AIDS, it’s not pretty.” Understatement of the year.
“How not pretty?”
“They turn into, well…” I sucked a deep breath. Here went nothing. “They turn into zombies.”
The silence in the room was profound. I watched a myriad of emotions cross his face: disbelief, confusion, thoughtfulness, and finally awareness. He’d put what I’d told him together with whatever he knew. I could see it in his eyes. It was his turn to trust me.
“Spill it,” I said. That’s me—graceful and tactful as hell.
“Spill what?” he asked with a studiously blank face.
I knew that face all too well. My kids tried it whenever caught, but weren’t sure how in the world I knew they were hiding something. “Whatever it is that’s making you believe me so easily. You know something. No one believes in real zombies that fast, no matter the hype. Now tell me what it is.”
“It’s nothing concrete. I may be wrong.”
I let out a frustrated sigh. “Tell me.”
“I remember hearing about a group of elite soldiers who were killed. They—the mythical they—covered it up. Nothing in the news, no international incident, nothing.”
“You think it has something to do with this. Why and how did you find out about it?”
“A team of our agents were down in Mexico on assignment. The army sent in a small brigade as their back up.”
This was like pulling teeth. Whatever he knew must be bad. “And?”
“And our office got ahold of video footage. I saw it before they confiscated it.” He paused and looked me in the eye. “What I saw were men, running so fast they were a blur on the screen. Men who viciously attacked the agents. The other soldiers shot the attackers in the head. Six people died that day, including one of ours.”
“But how did they keep it out of the news? That’s the part bugging me all this time. If soldiers are losing it, someone would know.”
“Yes, someone would know. I think they’re killing anyone not willing to run the party line.”
“But that means—” I couldn’t say it.
He nodded anyway. “That means me.”
Chapter 8
I was glad he’d told me he thought someone was on my side. Because it felt lonely where I stood. “But if you watched the footage, they’ll come after you as well, won’t they?” That’s all we needed. Another bull’s eye painted on our backs.
“I told them I hadn’t had a chance to review it yet. It was instinctive to lie,” he whispered, and I wasn’t sure why. “What I saw made me sick. Soldiers attacking and biting the necks of innocent people, smashing their heads into the nearest hard object. The agent who died was so badly mutilated, we told the family he was burned. His ashes were sent back to them.”
“And the other agent?”
“He was hospitalized. No one thought he’d make it. But he healed and is back at work.”
My mind did one of its instinctive leaps, and it all made sense. The way I’d been treated in the FBI office. “Special Agent Gene Robins is the other agent, isn’t he?” Now I whispered.
“Smarter, faster, stronger.”
I knew we were in his home, but all of a sudden, I didn’t feel safe. Pantomiming, I asked for pen and paper. He must have had the same idea.
He moved toward a desk in the corner of the living room visible from his kitchen table. I followed him over.
“Thank you for breakfast at dinner time,” I said, trying to inject a smile into my voice.
He looked at me askance. I couldn’t blame him. Inane chatter wasn’t the road we were on. I smiled and nodded. Ah, there it was. He’d caught up—I covered the sudden silence with useless banter. It was so obvious, I pictured a light bulb over his head.
The two days missing. All his stuff returned to him. Even the supposed bomb attempt. It all added up to one thing in my book—bugs. They’d bugged his house while they had him tied up. I took a leap of faith and decided they’d bugged his phone as well. In fact, I wouldn’t be surprised if he had tracking devices all over the equipment he took from the hotel room.
“You’re welcome,” he said as he started writing.
I nodded to show I understood he’d caught on. “I’m going to jump in the shower before I head to bed, if that’s okay. Are there towels in the bathroom?” Nice womanly question, similar to the ones I’d asked in the kitchen.
“Yes, and there’s more under the sink.” He motioned for me to come to the desk.
He scribbled, Bugs?
I pointed to the word and nodded yes. His second note wasn’t so easy to answer.
Get your stuff. Meet me outside in ten.
Where would we go? I wrote.
He didn’t answer. He shook his head and headed off to the hall leading to the bedrooms. As a conversation ender, it was effective.
I sighed and went to my almost room to gather my things, then took them out to my car. The day was starting to catch up with me. I was tired and all I wanted to do was read myself to sleep. The emotional and physical upheaval of the day had started to bring down my natural upbeat attitude.
Hard to stay upbeat when your kids were being held hostage contingent on your b
est behavior, but still. I needed my normal energy boost. While I leaned against the car waiting for Joseph, my eyes closed and thoughts of my kids flitted through my mind.
I needed to direct this energy and do as he mentioned before, use the emotions to feed myself, not drain me. One thing I’d noticed since the accident, my emotions were easily triggered to anger. Anger fed my energy. Nothing made a mother angry like someone taking her kids. I let some of the anger flow through me and felt my body energize. Like the bunny.
I snorted, but remained concerned. My body started to amass energy. It fed off my anger too easily. As a fighter, anger helped in my fights. But as a mother, I didn’t like where my body’s immunities lead me mentally. No one could survive using anger as a fuel source. Look where it got the Hulk. Not like I had time to sort my emotions out at the moment, anyway.
Agent Connelly walked out of the house. Tie included. I shook my head. He was handsome no matter what he wore, or didn’t wear. I snickered to myself. My sense of humor never did know when to shut up.
I held out my hand with the keys. With no idea what would happen, I wanted to conserve my newfound energy for whatever he’d planned. Besides, he knew the area. He looked startled for a moment, then shrugged and took the keys. I stepped in and sat on the passenger side of my car. After dumping a bag of things in the back, he slid behind the steering wheel, and we left to destinies unknown.
Geez.
I dropped my head into my hands. I had a bad case of dramatics. The cloak and dagger part of my new life always made me feel disconnected; everything around me became surreal. My mind’s way of dealing with something so far out of reach from normal it’d be considered insane.
I glanced over at Joseph. He exuded tough guy at all times—what I morphed into during a zombie hunt. Tough. Resilient. Nothing fazed him. How much of it was an act, and how much was ingrained with training? I didn’t know, but he inspired confidence in me—a rare enough feat. His physical toughness was an added bonus. I could be that way. In fact, life made me strong mentally and emotionally. But putting my children in danger got to me, making it harder for me to function rationally.
Night fell and I’d no clue where we were headed. We stopped in front of a house in a lower part of El Paso, closer to the Mexican border. He turned off the car and sat for a minute. I waited him out, despite the hundred and one questions running through my mind.
“This is a safe house. Mostly used for undercover work. It’s currently empty. We can stay here for the night. I’m sorry for the condition. It’s not nice, like you’re probably used to.”
If he’d seen some of the places I’d been since becoming a zombie fighter, I doubted he’d apologize. “I’m sure it’s fine. My biggest issue tonight is safety. I’m assuming this place is safe.”
“It’s as safe as we can get in our current circumstances.” Which meant we weren’t really safe, just less likely to be found before morning. It would have to be good enough.
I opened my car door and stepped out. I rummaged in the backseat and grabbed as much as I could carry, basically what I’d originally taken into his house.
Once inside the safe house, I looked around. Darkness swallowed the interior. Joseph had gone around to turn on the main power switch. I hated that the fuse box was outside, but years of fighting the undead had given me plenty of practice at keeping paranoia and fear at bay. He’d be in shortly.
The house smelled musty. What was it about unused places that made them smell like a tomb? In this dry environment, it shouldn’t smell musty. It should smell stale, dry. I wasn’t familiar with houses down south. As I crept further into the house, the smell was so bad, I had to breathe through my mouth, holding the collar of my shirt over it.
When I went through the archway from the living room to a hall area, I saw a staircase leading to the second floor. On the other side, it opened into a kitchen and a closed door off to my right. And the smell. Oh fuck! I knew that smell. Should have recognized it immediately. Calling myself all kinds of stupid, I backed up through the living room, scanning for movement. There were days when it paid to be paranoid.
I cussed myself six ways from Sunday for not having a weapon on me. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d done it and it pissed me off. Slowly, so if anyone or anything watched they wouldn’t realize what I was doing, I reached for the pack I carried to get one of the knives strapped to the outside. A camping knife, nothing to get too excited about, but it worked in a pinch.
And fuck, was I in a pinch. Call me clairvoyant, but I had a feeling Joseph wouldn’t be thrilled either. Relief coursed through me when the snap came free and the knife fell into my hand. I turned slightly to see the archway into the kitchen and the door I’d come through. I’d left it closed, now it swung open. Color me not happy.
I backed closer to the wall, scanning the darkness for signs of life—or un-life. Yeah, my sense of humor needed work. I heard something to my left and clenched the knife. Joseph, with his finger to his lips. I should’ve known he would catch on that something was wrong.
My level of alertness didn’t decrease with his presence. In fact, it increased. It was harder for me to work with a partner than alone in some ways. When alone, things were easier. I went into fight mode and started killing. Having a partner ended up like a fight at a bar. I needed to figure out who the bad guys were, and be careful not to hurt or kill any innocents.
I was angry at whoever had destroyed my chance at getting sleep before tomorrow’s operation. I felt a spark of energy—my anger, giving me the edge. I motioned for Joseph to cover me. He nodded and stepped around me, watching the archway with his gun up. I dropped my pack, and rifled through it for my gun and a couple knives.
Putting the gun in the waistband of my pants wasn’t on my list of favorite things to do, but there wasn’t time to put on a holster. When the weapons were secure and easily accessible, I tossed my pack out the front door and shut it. I’d know if someone came in our out.
Game on.
Energy pulsed through me like a live wire. I fell into fight mode, complete with my spider-senses—the silver lining to getting hit with the virus. The darkness wasn’t a problem and my ears picked up every move, every whisper in the house. Shit. There were at least three of them.
Joseph eyed me curiously, making me wonder if I underwent a visible change when in fight mode. Catching his eye, I raised three fingers. He was quick and knew what I meant. Nice. I could get used to a partner like him.
I took my Magnum out, loving the feel of its weight in my hand. My blood pumped, adrenaline flowed. These were my favorite kills. Full-out zombies. There was no doubt they were dead in the human sense. It was obvious when they started smelling like a corpse. I didn’t need to see them to know. No kissing to make sure. Thank goodness.
I loved it.
Grinning at Joseph, I moved into position near the archway, and he moved opposite me. “Ready?” I whispered.
“Yes.”
“They’re full-out zombies. You need to remember that in case you recognize them. They’re not the people you knew.”
He frowned. I picked up every movement, even in the dark. Though I could see better than most humans, details were still muted.
“How do you know they’re zombies and what’s full-out mean?”
“Smell.” Simple, effective means of telling the dead from the undead.
He paled, putting two and two together. Yep. He was about to face his first real zombie. I didn’t have the time to explain the tiers of change involved with the virus.
“They’re in the room off to the right. The door is closed. I don’t know if the zombies know who’s here, but I guarantee you they know food is close. They need time to work up a plan to get it.”
He stared at me, dumbfounded. “Plan?”
I waved a hand impatiently. “Yes. They’re not stupid. The main difference between this stage and humanity is their needs are very basic. They don’t care about friendship, loyalty, love—the finer th
ings in life. They care about survival. Eating and staying alive—or undead. But they still have the brain power to get those things.”
“But—” He looked at me with eyes wider than normal.
“Stunned isn’t your best look there, pal. This isn’t a Scooby-Doo cartoon. These things were made to never stop. Problem is, they’re uncontrollable. They kill everyone. Even each other, if needed. But they do work together. They do fight intelligently. We need to go in there and kill.” I double-checked the magazine on my gun. The weapons check seemed to have grounded Joseph.
“Okay. On three.”
“On three.”
Ready or not, here we come, assholes.
Chapter 9
As soon as we’d moved down the short hallway to the room I’d indicated, we each moved to one side of the doorframe. Joseph kicked the door in and stood back to let me move in first. Had to admire a man who knew when to get out of the way. The smell of rotting meat wafted out. Not wasting a moment, I shot at the zombie sitting on the bed straight across from the door. I turned to the left where I thought I heard another. Joseph came in and covered the right side of the room.
There was only the one zombie waiting in the room. I didn’t like it. I sensed a trap, but couldn’t figure out the how or where. My shoulders itched, like someone painted a big red target on my back. Cautiously, we stepped further into the room. I’d heard three distinct voices earlier. So where the hell were they?
My fear ratcheted up a notch. Despite my warning to Joseph, I’d never seen planning on this scale. Usually they were more straight-forward. This was cunning. Scarily cunning. It occurred to me that this may be the new super virus at work. Damn.
I headed toward the only door in the room. Probably a bathroom. But it could also be an adjoining door to another room. If so, we were fucking screwed. I kicked open the door and squatted low, keeping the gun handy.
It was a bathroom with blood everywhere. The smell made my stomach cramp. The bits of body parts lying on the tile smelled like rotting meat left on the counter too long. It had been there for days. Shit. I wrinkled my nose. The heat really putrefied corpses down south.