“You’d think he’d be used to that,” Madec said.
George ignored the comment.
“We know about Dr. Petrov’s work,” Bob continued. “We’re particularly interested in the package he sent you. He told us about it and asked if we could retrieve it from you.”
“He did? Well, that’s great. Then he’s still alive. You had me worried for a minute there.”
“This was a few days ago,” Bob said, eyes shifting down at the papers in front of him. “We haven’t heard from him since that time, so we don’t know if he got out safely or not. We’re hoping to have him brought here.” Looking up and meeting Rayburn’s eyes again, he said, “Take my word for it, we’re doing everything we can to bring him in alive.”
Rayburn was lost in thought for a moment. “What’s in this package that’s so important?”
“A DVD,” Madec said. “We have reason to believe that it contains the key to a cure. It’s critical that we find it. Do you remember getting the package?”
“Sure. I got it in the spring. I remember because when I went to get the mail, there was this mud puddle around the tree out front and the flowers had fallen. . .”
“Then you still have it? Is it here?”
“No. They make me keep my desk clean here, so I keep most of my stuff at my other office. I’m sure it’s still there, somewhere.”
Bob let out a low whistle, glancing at Madec again. “What’s that area like now?”
“The office is near Pepperdine, outside of our Malibu . . . shelter.”
“Ah, a shelter. Like this one?” Rayburn asked.
“We’ll have to send someone in,” Madec said, ignoring the question to glance at a map on his laptop. “Can you tell us exactly where the package is?”
“Well, I don’t remember exactly,” Rayburn said, rubbing his chin. “I have a pile of mail next to my desk, but then there’s a box it could be in . . . lots of boxes actually. I think I know which one it might be in, but I’m not sure I could describe it. It’s brown cardboard, but so are the other ones.”
“There won’t be much time to look around once we have a team in the building,” Madec said. “Just how many boxes are there in the room?”
Rayburn thought about it for a minute then finally said, “Maybe ten.”
“Ten?” Madec looked up. “That’s too many to bring out.”
“I’d have to go with you,” Rayburn said. “You’ll never find it because my office is kind of cluttered. Someone told me that I need an intervention, but I think he was joking.”
“Not necessarily,” Madec said. “I saw your ‘clean’ office upstairs.”
“Can we get him in safely so he can retrieve the package?” Bob asked.
“We can clear the building then send him in with Hixson to make sure it’s done quickly,” Madec replied.
“Let’s do that,” Bob said. “Go ahead and set it up.”
A look of irritation crossed Madec’s face. “It’s already been arranged,” he said, closing his laptop.
~*^*~
~07~
St. Mary’s Hospital, Lansing
A couple of the bikes went ahead of the rest, scouting the area before returning to let Snake know which roads were navigable. While they made their way down the streets, Lindsey did her best to note the destruction on the map. With the slow progress, it took almost a half-hour to reach the address where Dr. Martinez’s parents lived. The house was in an upscale neighborhood, and it had obviously been well-cared for, with a recent paint job and a nicely manicured lawn. A small wrought-iron fence had once lined the property, though it apparently hadn’t stopped the infected from plowing through the yard. The twisted metal lay on its side, and the flower beds had been trampled.
The front door of the house was closed, which might have given the group some hope, except for the large picture window that was broken almost completely out. Sheer white curtains fluttered out the window, not making Snake feel any better about their chances of finding the couple alive.
“Doesn’t look good,” he said to Wolf, who had ridden up next to him.
“Two cars in the garage,” Wombat said, after running over to check.
“More bad news,” Snake sighed. “I think we know what we’re going to find in there, but we should check it out.”
“I’ll go in,” Wombat said.
Hawk and Moose also volunteered.
“Okay, we’ll let you youngsters handle it this time,” Wolf said.
“Shut the bikes off,” Snake said. “No need to ring a dinner bell. The rest of you guys, stand guard but use silent weapons.” He turned toward Wombat and the other two, who were getting ready to go in. “Be careful in there. You know the routine — don’t get yourselves cornered. If it looks bad, get out.”
Wombat approached the house cautiously, the others close behind. He carried his machete while Moose brought along a bat. Hawk had sharpened a piece of rebar into a weapon similar to a pike. The point, when thrust through a zombie’s eye, usually stopped it in its tracks.
“Anybody home?” Wombat called, listening carefully for a response from either the living or the dead. His words were met with silence, and when nothing came out to greet them, the trio quickly made their way through the first floor. Finding it clear, they checked the basement to discover that it was also unoccupied. It wasn’t until Wombat had taken a few steps up the stairs to the second floor that he heard a scraping sound coming from the upper level of the house. He motioned to the others, who nodded. A quick check of the second story told them that the noise was coming from the master bedroom at the end of the hall. After checking all the other rooms, the three men approached the door and prepared to enter the room.
“Anybody alive in here?” Wombat asked through the door. His words were greeted with a moan.
Dr. Martinez had made it clear that if his parents had been infected that he wanted them to have peace. Wombat didn’t look forward to the task at hand, but he knew it had to be done. He motioned to Hawk, who pulled the door open. Wombat rushed in, machete in hand.
Mr. Martinez was waiting for them, and they quickly ended his post-life existence, as his son had requested. Walking around to the far side of the bed, the biker looked down at the floor where he noticed several drops of blood near the French doors. He reached out to push the thin curtain aside, wondering if Mrs. Martinez had gone through the doors to get away from her husband. The blood that was smeared on the glass told him it was a possibility, but Wombat could see the entire balcony from where he stood and there was no sign of the woman.
A hand suddenly shot out from under the bed, grabbing his boot. The biker tried to kick his foot free but wasn’t able to do it. A bloody arm reached out to wrap around his calf, and Wombat could see the woman’s head begin to emerge from beneath the bed as she pulled her body forward. Wombat couldn’t get a clear shot at the head so he leaned down to slice the woman’s left hand off at the wrist. With another swing of his machete, Wombat took Mrs. Martinez’s other arm off at the elbow. He kicked the severed limbs away and stepped back, trying to catch his breath.
“You okay?” Hawk asked, walking over since he wasn’t able to see what was happening on the other side of the bed.
“Yeah,” Wombat said. His attention was soon brought back to the floor where the woman was crawling from beneath the bed, pulling herself with what was left of her arms. Wombat took a step toward her, but before he could finish the job, Hawk drove his pike through the woman’s eye. The body shuddered twice before going still.
“Thanks, mate,” Wombat said.
“I don’t think we should tell Dr. Martinez about this part,” Moose mentioned.
“Right,” Wombat said, bending down to help Hawk lift the woman’s body onto the bed. They put Mr. Martinez next to his wife, and Moose said a short prayer over the couple. The three men left the house, hoping that they’d have better luck with some of the others.
~*~
The next several stops provided no bett
er outcome. A dozen friends and family members of those at the hospital were put to rest. Evening was approaching, and the group was running out of time with four houses left to check. When they reached Marian’s sister’s house and saw the front door ajar, they almost moved on, but decided to give it a quick look.
Three zombies were killed on the first floor, but none of them fit the pictures in the snapshot that Marian had given them. Wombat decided to do a quick check upstairs, hoping it wouldn’t take long.
“Anybody alive here?” he called. When there was no reply, he added, “We’re friends of Marian.”
This technique had netted them no results, so he’d done it as an afterthought, but almost immediately, noise could be heard from the attic above them. Moments later, the small door in the ceiling opened to reveal a face. The boy, Wombat guessed, was in his early teens. He took one look at the three bikers and started to close the door again.
“Hey, it’s okay!” Wombat said. “Your aunt is alive at the hospital. She sent us to look for you. We won’t hurt you, I promise. Marian would kill us if we did, believe me.”
Slowly, the door opened again, and the face reappeared, looking down warily at the bikers.
“I have a gun, so I hope you mean it,” the boy said, trying his best to look tough.
“I promise,” Wombat said. “But we need to hurry. We’ve got other houses to check.”
“I don’t know. I’m supposed to take care of my sister. Why should I trust you guys?”
“Hang on,” Wombat said, hurrying over to a window that looked out over the front of the house. “Can you send Lindsey up?” he called down to Snake.
Within a minute, Lindsey joined them.
“Hi, I’m Lindsey,” she said, giving the boy a smile. “I work at the hospital in physical therapy, and I know your aunt. In fact, she gave us this picture so we’d recognize you.”
She held up the wallet-sized photo so the boy could look it over. Moments later, another head appeared next to his. The boy turned, trying to push the girl away.
“Let me see!” she said, arguing with him. She appeared to be a few years younger than the boy.
“Hey, you guys,” Lindsey said, “we’ve got three more houses to check, and we’re running out of daylight. Can you please just come with us? I promise it’s safe. We have food, too.”
“Food? I’m going,” the girl said, sticking her head out again. “I’m hungry.”
There was more arguing as the boy tried to keep his sister from leaving.
The girl finally squeezed past her brother and dropped through the opening in the attic floor. Once she was out, he had little choice but to follow. He made sure the others could see that he wasn’t lying about having a gun.
“How did you guys get up there?” Moose asked, looking up into the square opening in the ceiling.
“There’s a ladder,” the boy said. “We pull it up behind us.”
Wombat didn’t want to ask the question, but he finally did. “What about your mom? Marian thought she’d be here, too.”
The boy shook his head, his action telling Wombat what he needed to know.
“I’m sorry,” the biker said.
When they got outside, Wombat asked Snake what he wanted to do.
“I’ll take a small group to do a quick check of the last places on the list, and we’ll send the kids back with the others.”
Lindsey wanted to stay and so did Wombat, Hawk and Wolf. Snake felt comfortable with the group, and he knew that the others would get the kids to the hospital safely.
“Give me a call on the radio once you get back,” Snake told Moose.
The next stop on the list was an apartment building, which was obviously overrun. It would have been risky for that reason alone, but the building was in an area where several fires were raging. The smoke was thick, making it hard to see much of anything.
“That’s the apartment, right?” Wolf asked, pointing to a window.
Snake looked at the paper in his hand. “That’s got to be it.”
“Let’s try this,” Wolf said, picking up a handful of pebbles. He began to toss them at the glass as the others kept the infected back. Within a minute, a dead woman appeared in the window, her long, dark hair matted with blood.
“That looks like the picture that Amelia gave us. It’s got to be her friend,” Snake said, looking at the photo. “Let’s move on.”
They had no better luck at the next two homes they visited, but Snake hoped that at least closure would be found for some of those who needed it. Almost half of those they had sought had been found dead or undead, while the rest were missing. It wasn’t the news he’d wanted to bring back, but at least they’d done everything they could.
“Let’s roll,” he said. “It’s getting dark.”
~*~
St. Mary’s Hospital, Lansing
After quarantine, Snake stopped by the cafeteria and joined Jack for dinner.
“I heard you found Marian’s niece and nephew,” Jack said. “She was thrilled.”
“We were pretty happy to see that someone on our list was still alive,” Snake said.
After eating, the two men walked over to the ER to look at the progress. Since the room was still in the remodeling phase, the sofas and chairs were lined up in the hallway, ready to be moved in when the work was done. The old wall between the ER and the waiting room was gone, and the debris had been cleaned up.
“If we can pick up some drywall and supplies, I can make this room look nice again,” Hawk said as Wolf walked over to join them.
“We’ll add that to the list,” Snake told him, jotting down the items as Hawk named them.
“Sounds like there’ll be a lot of painting to do upstairs when there’s time, too,” Jack added, holding up a small notepad. “We got requests from almost everybody.”
Snake squinted and looked it over before handing it to Hawk. “You know anything about mixing paint? I don’t even know what some of these colors are. Sage? Isn’t that something you put on a chicken before you cook it?”
“Believe it or not, that’s a popular color,” Hawk said with a grin. “I can try mixing the paint. I watched them do it at the DIY Depot enough to have an idea how it works, though it’s all computerized now.”
“Did you do this stuff for a living?” Jack asked.
“Sure did,” Hawk said. “I was a contractor. Did mostly small jobs, remodeling and stuff like that.”
“Great,” Jack said. “Those are the kind of skills we need.”
“Wombat worked for me, and he’s pretty handy, too,” Hawk said.
“Just think, Jack,” Snake said, “you could’ve ended up stuck here with a bunch of stockbrokers and lawyers.”
“I think I’d rather be out there with the zombies,” Jack said.
Hawk looked down at the notepad still in his hands. “I don’t recognize some of these colors. We may just have to mix up a bunch of paint the old-fashioned way and let everybody take what they like.”
“We might have to do that anyway,” Snake said. “We’ve been running on generator power for the last day or so, and I haven’t seen many lights around town lately. I’m guessing the grid is finally down. Probably nobody left to feed the furnace.”
Wolf shook his head. “I don’t get how people can be worried about what color to paint their rooms when we’re in the middle of a crisis. I mean, seriously, shouldn’t they be more concerned with how we’re going to survive?”
“They probably would be if we had the dead banging on our door right now,” Snake pointed out. “But now that we’ve reinforced this place, stocked up on supplies and have a plan to do some harvesting, I think they’re starting to feel a little more secure. They want to feel like life is normal again, even though one look outside would tell them it ain’t.”
“I guess I can’t say I blame them,” Hawk said. “They’re living in hospital rooms. If they can do some painting and fix their room up a bit, it’ll feel more like home.”
&n
bsp; “Right,” Snake said. “The more normal we can make things around here, the better it will be for everybody. Plus, it gives us stuff to do to stay busy.”
Debbie, one of the younger nurses, stopped by looking for Hawk. “I’m going up to the roof to get some air if you want to join me,” she told him.
Hawk patted the pocket where he kept his cigarettes and said, “I’m ready.”
He turned and grinned at Snake and Wolf before leaving with Debbie.
“Ah, to be young again,” Wolf said, watching Hawk walk away with the nurse. He yawned and turned back to Jack and Snake. “I think I’m heading to bed. I’m getting too old for these late nights.”
“I’ll be doing the same after I check on the progress upstairs,” Snake said. “See you tomorrow.”
“Goodnight, Wolf,” Jack said.
After the others had walked away, Snake lowered his voice and said to Jack, “I was just talking to Jackson, the computer guy, and he was telling me that he saw on the internet that suicides have skyrocketed all over the world. I can’t imagine living through something like this and then wanting to end it all. I’m worried that it might happen here.”
“It won’t surprise me if it does happen,” Jack said. “A lot of folks probably feel like there’s nothing left to live for. They’ve lost their families, their friends, their homes and their jobs. And I’m sure right now that a lot of them aren’t seeing much of a future for themselves or the world.”
Snake pulled on his long beard, deep in thought. “We’ve already got everybody working, so that’s a step in the right direction. There’s not much we can do about the grief they’re feeling, except to listen when they want to talk about it. Maybe they’ll make some new friends here, and that might help to ease the pain, just a bit.”
Dead, But Not For Long (Book 2): Pestilence and Promise Page 7