The Serophim Breach (The Serophim Breach Series)

by Tracy Serpa

  “So, you said there’s a cure for this stuff, but it doesn’t work. Doesn’t that make it not a cure?” he asked. The question came out sounding slightly more snarky than he had intended.

  Josie started to answer several times before finally saying, “Okay. No, it’s not a cure if it doesn’t work. At the same time, yes, it is a cure because we know it does work. We just have to figure out a way for it to move faster.”

  “And you just need Brandon’s blood to do that?”

  She was silent for a second, searching for an answer. The adrenaline from their meeting and escape had worn off, and he could tell that she was beginning to feel the late hour. Finally, after taking a deep breath, she said, “Brandon’s blood might show us how the nanotech interacts with an individual human subject. We should be able to get some samples of more current particles as well. We’re thinking some of the design was altered before the trial began, in an attempt to ‘fix the issues’ they had with the animals.” She scoffed. “Problem is, the ‘issue’ is the nature of nanotechnology.”

  Before she could continue, Gary cut her off, saying, “But how do you know you can make a cure?” He was beginning to worry that he had gotten himself involved in something he could never understand and that might very well turn out to be fruitless.

  Josie glanced at him and said quietly, “I told you, we made a cure; it just needs to be refined.”

  “No, what you said was it works, but it doesn’t really work!” he burst out, his frustration mounting. “It seems to me if these particles are really as unpredictable as you say they are, you don’t have any way of knowing what you’re doing. No more than the people you used to work for.”

  “Well . . . that’s true,” she replied, forcing herself to keep calm. “But I know we can make a cure.”

  “How?” he demanded.

  Glancing at him, she said in a deliberate voice, “Because Argo has one.”

  Dumbstruck, Gary stared at her with his mouth hanging open. “What?” he choked out.

  She jerked the car angrily into the number three lane, heading for their off-ramp. A horn blared behind her as the driver of a sleek sports car swung around them and flipped Josie off, clearly shouting something at them. Returning the gesture, she slowed and pulled off the freeway.

  “Gary, try to understand. What happened to those animals . . . that’s what is, in all probability, going to happen to Brandon, and a lot of other people on Oahu, in a very short while. We believe that Argo has some sort of emergency safety measure prepared, but we don’t know what it is.”

  “Then what the hell am I doing here?” he shouted.

  He watched as she tried to keep her temper. In the same quiet voice, she finally answered, “When the nanotech goes rogue, it puts the host body into a deep state of shock. That’s how it breaches the nervous system. Its interactions with the brain change almost immediately; in some ways, it’s like a clot moving through the brain. Most subjects experience massive cardiac arrest. Then the particles take over the muscle system.” She fell silent as she maneuvered the car through ever-narrowing streets, heading away from the bright lights of downtown.

  Feeling like a complete fool, Gary replied, “I don’t understand.”

  The muscles in her jaw flexed before she said, “In almost every instance, the shock kills the subject. Then the nanites take over; they keep the blood moving, the lungs taking in oxygen, everything. But they don’t use the heart to pump the blood, and we think they shut down parts of the brain that we haven’t quite figured out how to . . . fire back up again. It’s massive, massive trauma to the brain. Right now if we kill off the particles, we kill off the host.”

  Horror ran through Gary’s body like an electric current. His mind conjured up the image of his son, dying horribly, then kept living but not alive. He found he could not speak, his lips moving silently as he searched for an answer, eyes staring straight ahead.

  He was snapped out of his stupor by Josie’s strange choked whisper. “Oh no!”

  Turning slowly to look at her, he saw that her eyes were glued to the mirror. He glanced out the back window and saw a black SUV pull up behind them. Before he could ask if it was the same vehicle, its engine revved loudly. Instantly, Josie slammed the pedal to the floor, sending their car squealing around a corner; Gary saw a small group of drunken teenagers hoot at them as they sped down a quiet side street, the black SUV close on their tail.

  Josie said nothing, but kept her eyes darting between the road and the mirror, her hands wrapped tight around the wheel.

  “Where are you going?” Gary shouted over the engine.

  She whipped around another corner before she answered, “The freeway! There are cars on the freeway! Witnesses!”

  A cold shudder of dread swept through his body as he realized the implication of her words. His brain reeled as they screeched around another corner, the sound of the SUV’s tires squealing behind them. He tried to brace himself for what would come next, but he wasn’t sure what to prepare for. The shattering of glass as bullets ripped into the car? The awful crunch of metal against metal as they slammed their much larger vehicle into the sedan? His mind rebelled, shutting down, refusing to offer more possibilities, and he was left to simply brace himself against the floorboards and armrests.

  Josie was breathing hard, leaning forward in her seat, when the freeway finally came back into view. She checked her mirror once more as she ran the last red light before a series of green that stood between them and the on-ramp, accelerating hard. Behind them, the SUV bucked as the driver slammed it into a higher gear and swung out to the left, pulling up beside the Honda.

  “What the hell are they doing?” Gary gasped. The other vehicle’s windows were tinted almost black. It was impossible to see how many people were in the vehicle or who they were.

  “I don’t know,” she answered breathlessly, eyes on the ramp that was only a few blocks away. The SUV’s engine roared as the driver gunned it, shooting out in front of them.

  “Shit,” Josie hissed. There was nowhere to go but forward. “Listen to me, Gary. I want you to put this number in your phone and dial. Whoever answers, just tell them Lashbrook says ‘ambush.’” She rattled off the number as he fumbled with his phone and pressed “call.” Watching her face as the phone rang in his ear, Gary could see she was trying to calculate her chances of getting the Honda to the on-ramp before whatever the occupants of the SUV were planning could happen. When it was a few car lengths ahead of them, the passenger side window rolled halfway down; they caught a glimpse of movement in the SUV’s side-view mirror, and Josie suddenly shouted, “Oh God, Gary, hang on to something!”

  He tried to hold his phone and brace himself as a black-clad arm flung something out of the SUV’s window. A tiny bit of silver glinted in the streetlight, scattering across the ground less than half a block in front of them. Josie screamed through clenched teeth and slammed her foot on the brake just as Gary finished dialing. He looked up for a brief second and realized in horror that road spikes had been thrown down on the street in front of them. There was no time to check the speedometer, but he knew that the SUV driver’s ploy had worked perfectly. Josie had pushed the Honda up to freeway speeds; seeing the spikes had made her panic and slam on the brakes, causing the little car to fishtail wildly. She jerked the wheel back, overcorrecting, and an earsplitting explosion of sound rocked the car. Then they were airborne, grasping frantically for some kind of brace, crying out as their heads cracked together and against the windows.

  The Honda smashed into the asphalt and spun into the air again, then slammed into the foundation of the freeway overpass. Another blast of sound ripped through Gary’s ears, followed instantaneously by an excruciating impact that slammed his upper body back into the seat. The immediate stinging on his skin exploded into a burn so intense he thought he was on fire, and he tried to raise his arms to swat away the flames, but found he could not move.

  As his eyes rolled back, he dimly heard a tiny buzzing
from the backseat. And then everything went black.

  ~

  The strip malls and industrial buildings soon gave way to smaller gas stations and local shops as Mike, Heather, and Sarah made their way toward the Pearl City police station. Their eyes adjusted to the night quickly, and now they could discern the dark buildings huddled back off the sidewalk. Every so often a car would pass, its headlights scattering shadows down the sidewalk, or they would find a small cluster of cars stopped in the middle of the street with a few people standing together talking. They were nearing another when Sarah realized Mike was huffing and puffing.

  “I’m sorry, Mike,” she murmured, stopping him. “You can put me down. I’ll be okay.”

  He couldn’t catch his breath to speak, so he just smiled warmly at her and set her gently on the concrete. Heather stepped up beside her, and they continued on, flanking Sarah. As they approached the mass of cars, the sounds of static and complaining became clearer. A figure was bent over the driver’s seat of one car, fumbling with the radio. Several other people stood nearby, rubbing their arms to keep warm and conversing quietly with each other.

  Suddenly the static on the radio gave way to an obnoxious, blaring alarm, and a heavy male voice broke in to say, “This is the emergency broadcast system. This is Sheriff Stan Akebono of Pearl City, and this is not a test. We are experiencing blackouts throughout the island, making driving hazardous. Some isolated incidents of violence have been reported in Honolulu and its outlying areas.” The hushed conversation at the side of the road went silent. “We are requesting that citizens return to their homes, if possible, and proceed to the nearest police station or public school building if not. Again, this is not a test. This message will repeat in thirty seconds.” The alarm picked up again, and the man controlling the radio switched it off.

  “Guess it’s serious,” he said as Sarah, Mike, and Heather continued past.

  Another man in the small crowd looked up at them and said, “Hey, where you guys coming from?”

  Sarah put her head down and wrapped her arms around her body. The night air was tinged with cold from the light rain earlier, and she felt the moisture prickling her skin. Mike tersely told the man they were heading for the police station.

  “Everyone all right?” called the radio controller.

  Mike nodded and replied, “Yeah, thanks.”

  Sarah wasn’t sure why, but she felt that his tone and posture had become immediately defensive when the crowd turned their attention toward them.

  They walked on in silence, the sound of their footfalls thudding in the heavy air. Sarah’s teeth began to chatter, and Heather absentmindedly put a hand to her back. As they left the car lights behind them, their eyes adjusted to the dark again, but Sarah kept hers on her feet moving over the sidewalk. Every once in a while, tears would well up, but she swallowed them back and turned her thoughts to her brothers. She imagined them already on the freeway, speeding in her direction. I’ll even be glad to see Brandon, she thought, and smiled. It took her a moment to remember Kai’s harried answer to her call; he had said something about Brandon being in the hospital. Everything had been so rushed, and she had been so desperately relieved to hear him answer that she had not given the first words out of his mouth a second thought. Watching the pavement pass by underfoot, she wondered what had happened and shivered as the cool night air sent goose bumps rippling down her back and arms.

  “Dad, what’s going on?” she heard Heather whisper. There was no response from Mike. Looking up at him, Sarah saw that his eyebrows were furrowed, and he scanned the streets with narrowed eyes. Clearing her throat, she asked in a coarse voice, “What are you looking for?”

  He glanced down at her and forced a smile. “I just don’t want to miss the station,” he replied.

  They walked quietly for another ten minutes. Suddenly Mike put a hand out in front of them and stopped; standing tensely at the edge of the sidewalk, he craned his head forward, his chin jutting out. In a tiny voice, Heather asked her father what he’d heard. He listened for a while longer before answering, “Probably an animal or something. We’re almost to the station, so let’s just hurry and be as quiet as we can, okay?”

  Just then the faraway sound of several pounding feet on pavement became audible, slowly growing closer. Mike herded them back to stand against the outside wall of a local grocer’s market, positioning himself in front of the girls. Biting her lip, Sarah told herself not to cry over and over again as the drumming footsteps grew louder. A sudden shout lifted into the air, and Sarah whimpered involuntarily, clapping a hand over her mouth. In one swift motion, Heather put an arm around her and gathered her up against a stucco storefront, watching her father. He stood still as a stone.

  Three teenage boys burst around the corner, one letting out a whoop as they charged an electronics store across the street. The biggest of the pack was carrying a large stone. Winding up, he pitched it through the plate glass window at the front of the shop, the other two howling in crazed victory as they scooped debris off the ground and hurled it at the broken glass, creating an ever-widening hole.

  Mike turned his head back to the girls and whispered, “Let’s go. Quietly.” He took Sarah’s hand and led her away. As they went, they heard the sound of a shotgun being cocked, and a loud voice echoed out from the store, “Clear out!” The footsteps took off running down the streets; only seconds later, the boys were hooting again and shattering another plate glass window.

  Hurrying away from the noise, the trio followed street signs that pointed toward the station. Finally it loomed up from the shadows, a long, dark shape against the heavier night behind. Sarah’s pace quickened automatically as relief surged through her; a desperate urge to be indoors nearly overwhelmed her self-control. “Thank God,” she heard Heather whisper.

  As suddenly as she had felt the relief, it was just as quickly replaced by complete, mind-numbing terror. They were two hundred yards from the building, with a large stretch of grass-lined sidewalk between them and the front door. And less than half the distance away, a figure lay on the grass, jerking erratically.

  Sarah’s mouth formed Mike’s name, but she had no voice. She tried to speak, to call out to him, but he dragged her on toward the station. When they were a short distance away from the figure, it let out a choking cough and a tiny wail of pain. Instinctively, Mike jerked Sarah behind him, reaching out to pull his daughter to him as well.

  They stopped, and Sarah saw that the figure was a woman with a bloodied face, writhing on the ground and moaning. Her clothes were soaked through from the dewy grass, and a giant welt stood out angrily on her cheekbone. Long scratches ran down her arms in dark red streaks. She was barefoot, and her teeth chattered in the cold.

  The look on Mike’s face was a mix of hesitant concern and uncertainty as he put an arm out and shepherded the girls to stand behind him. Taking a small step forward, he called out quietly, “Ma’am? Can you hear me?” There was no way to tell if she could or not; her body moved strangely, like a dog running in its sleep, legs twitching frantically in movements that seemed cut short. Faltering cries punctuated her breath, which came in short, hissing gasps.

  “Mike,” Sarah whispered, pulling her hand away from his. There was something in the woman’s movements that frightened her.

  Heather peeked over her father’s shoulder and asked, “You think those guys did this?”

  He shrugged and spoke again gently. “Ma’am? I’m going to get someone from the police station. We’re not just going to leave you—”

  Before he finished, the woman emitted a jabbering stream of nonsense.

  Sarah’s voice came back to her, along with the image of the jogger out in front of her house. “Mike!” she called out frantically. He looked back at her, surprise evident in his expression. She could feel the huge tear droplets as they hung on her eyelashes, quivering, and she cried, “That’s what the jogger was doing, before . . .” Her voice left her again as she stumbled back, eyes locked on t
he woman, who was beginning to pant, her breath thick with the sounds of liquid.

  Without a second thought, Mike grabbed Sarah’s arm and took off running for the station, pulling Heather along as well. Looking back over her shoulder, Sarah saw the woman lurch painfully to her feet. Her horrible scream rent the air, joined almost immediately by Sarah’s. Mike winced and yelled for them to run as his own pace quickened. The crazed woman caught sight of them and sprang forward, sprinting awkwardly along the grass. Unable to peel her eyes away, Sarah realized that the woman’s ankle bent out at a sickening angle; it was clearly broken.

  Dragged along by Mike’s momentum, all she could do was wail in terror as the woman charged toward them, gnashing her teeth and snarling like a rabid animal. She was still a good distance behind them, but she swiped at the air as though they were only a few feet in front of her. Suddenly, another scream of rage came from somewhere in the darkness, and the woman called back to it without slowing her pace.

  “Daddy?” Heather cried in a terrified voice.

  “Go, Heather! Run!” Mike answered breathlessly, shoving her forward. And then they were clambering up the cement steps to the police station, yanking at the door handle, only to find it locked. Mike dropped Sarah’s arm and pounded on the glass, shouting for someone to open the door. Inside, they could see a small group of people huddled in the reception area, watching them struggle to get in.

  A muffled voice called out, “It’s too dangerous! You have to go somewhere else!”

  “There is nowhere else!” Mike shouted. “Let us in!”

  Heather shook the door handle frantically and let out a low wail. The crazed woman had reached the edge of the parking lot and was hobbling toward them, jabbering loudly, thick saliva slobbering down her chin. Sarah heard the sickening sound of bones cracking each time the woman set her damaged foot on the pavement.