“Oh my God,” she whispered.
“What’s wrong?” Tyler asked, one of the silver containers tucked beneath his arm.
“These are all diseases, aren’t they?” She looked around the room.
“They certainly are,” he said. “Those things stored out there”—he hooked a thumb in the direction of the outside rooms—“they’re like sticks and stones compared to the killing power kept in here.”
She stared at the canister he was holding. “What are you going to do with that?”
Tyler plucked it from beneath his arm. “This one was discovered in Siberia—at a secret Russian biological research station. Death’s Kiss 75,” he said with a certain amount of awe. “Supposedly it killed every single person in the station as well as the village before going dormant in the cold. Can you imagine?” Madison didn’t respond. “What do you think I’m going to do with it?” he said finally, giving her a blood-freezing smile.
Madison blinked. This was it—he wasn’t hiding it anymore, the fact that he was Tyler, not Tom. And if he didn’t feel like he had to pretend, that was a very bad sign…
He strode toward the exit.
“No,” she said, following.
“No?” he repeated, glancing over his shoulder. “I wasn’t asking for permission, honey.”
Without hesitation Madison pulled Tyler’s shoulder back and grabbed at the canister.
“I won’t let you leave with that,” she said, her fingers glancing across the metal surface.
Tyler turned and slapped her across the face, sending her stumbling back onto the floor. She saw stars momentarily as her mouth filled with the coppery taste of blood.
Tyler was staring at his hand as if it wasn’t his own.
“If I can’t stop you,” she said, wiping away the blood dripping from her lip, “Tom will.”
Tyler gazed at her for a moment, his hand clutching the canister so tightly his knuckles were white. He quickly turned away from her, tucking the canister under his arm. He pushed a button on the wall, opening the door of the freezing room.
She was right behind him as he stormed up the incline toward the warehouse rooms. “He’s still in there, isn’t he?” she said. “Somehow he’s locked up inside, and I bet he’s fighting to get out.”
“I’d shut up if I were you,” Tyler snarled, not turning around.
It was clear to Madison that she was getting to him. “Do you think he can hear me? If I tried to talk to him, do you think he would hear and try to take over?”
Tyler spun around, a menacing glint in his eyes. “If I have my way, he ain’t never comin’ back, darlin’,” he growled, bearing down on her.
As he leaned in close, Madison lunged, snatching the canister away.
“You little bi—” Tyler began, but she was already running.
She was halfway through the storage room filled with crates when she saw movement from the corner of her eye. Thinking that somehow Tyler had managed to get ahead of her, Madison stopped, eyes searching the room, trying to find another way out. But it wasn’t Tyler.
Whatever it was, it moved incredibly fast, springing from box to box, disappearing in patches of shadow only to emerge again in a flurry of blurred movement. It finally stopped, perched on a nearby stack of crates, staring at her with glowing red eyes. Madison held her breath, terrified. At first glance it appeared to be some kind of machine—a robot, maybe—but as she watched it move, she came to the horrifying realization that there was something flesh and blood beneath the metal covering.
And then it sprang from its perch, landing in a clattering crouch, its metal claws clicking across the hard surface as it charged, an echoing roar issuing from its fanged mouth.
At one time, it might have been some kind of monkey, she thought as it leapt at her.
Tyler felt like an idiot.
His head was swimming as he chased her through the warehouse.
He was getting sloppy, and he blamed it on the gradual merger of his and Tom Lovett’s personalities. Mr. Kavanagh had said that he could make Tom Lovett go away forever. For that, Tyler would have destroyed the world, and who knew, maybe releasing the Kamchatka virus would do just that. But it didn’t matter as long as he didn’t have to return to that prison inside his head.
Ahead of him Madison stopped. It would take him only a minute to bring her down, and he struggled with the idea of what to do with her when he did. Killing her would solve many of his problems, but he knew it would be impossible. Since the merger had begun, it was as if a switch had been flicked somewhere inside his head, preventing him from being able to do what he did best.
And even if he could still kill, he doubted that he would be able to hurt Madison. It was Tom again, injecting his stupid feelings into Tyler’s head. It made him feel weak.
Tyler raced into the room just as the mechanical creature charged toward Madison. He slowed, mesmerized by the sight of this fascinating amalgam of biology and technology. He had learned about these biomechs during his training with the Janus Project, but he’d never dreamed he would see one in the flesh … and metal. Its body was covered in a lightweight metal armor, its sensory organs replaced with the best technology available at the time.
They were to be the ultimate in disposable soldiers, common animals, mostly primates—apes—turned into killing machines by the latest in cybernetic technology. No morals, feelings, or grieving families to deal with, the biomechs were going to be a solution to modern warfare.
But that was before the pencil pushers realized what their new soldiers were going to cost. It took close to eight million dollars to outfit one ape with the technology and armament needed to turn it into a soldier. The thing must have ended up here on guard duty. Well, that explained the biscuits and the water trough.
The cybernetic animal stopped its charge, and Tyler could hear the faint whirring sounds of servomotors and optical enhancements as it sized up this new threat.
Then, deeming him more of a threat than Madison, it attacked with a bone-chilling cry.
The creature moved with incredible speed and fluidity, and Tyler couldn’t help being impressed, but as the biomechanical animal charged, Tyler was moving as well, pulling the gun from his back pocket. He fired two shots in succession, aiming for the small unarmored sections on the animal’s chest. He missed; the creature was faster than any human target he’d ever fired on. But the gunfire did force it to reassess its attack strategy, and it darted for cover behind some of the storage crates. Tyler tensed, listening carefully.
The ground in front of him erupted in machine-gun fire, and he jumped backward to see the mechanical ape running along the tops of the crates, an automatic weapon having emerged from a housing attached to its arm.
Diving for cover, Tyler took aim, fired four more shots, and actually managed to hit the machine gun, disabling it. The biomech stopped, studying its damaged weaponry, and Tyler fired again at its face, using the last of the bullets in his gun. The animal squealed as the lenses that had replaced its eyes exploded in a shower of sparks and colored glass.
The creature tumbled from its perch, clattering to the ground. Tyler crossed the warehouse. He stood above the beast, removing the empty clip and preparing to insert another. He couldn’t help but feel a strange connection with the animal—created to be weapon and then locked away, just waiting for the day it would be called to action. He snapped the new clip into his gun and chambered a round. He took aim at the pathetic creature, preparing to put a bullet into its brain.
The biomech suddenly leapt up, its metal-sheathed teeth sinking into the flesh of his wrist. Tyler screamed, the gun dropping from his hand. He reacted instinctively—very much like an animal himself, digging the fingers of his other hand into the damaged mechanics surrounding the ape’s eye. Howling in pain, Tyler dug deep.
The biomech let go with a wail just as soon as Tyler’s fingers touched something moist—something all too fragile. He jumped back, clutching his injured arm to his chest. It was
painful to move his hand, but at least it was still relatively operational.
The animal was already on the move, its head moving oddly, searching for its enemy. The warehouse space had become deathly quiet except for the sound of nervous gasping breaths coming from the other end of the room. Tyler turned to look at a wide-eyed and terrified Madison just as the biomech did. It zeroed in on the sound, tensing metal-sheathed musculature to attack.
It would have been the answer to his current dilemma, a way to eliminate a problem that he couldn’t. But the messy emotions were screwing with his thought process again, and he started to stamp his feet and yell at the top of his lungs just as the killing machine was preparing to pounce.
The ape stopped mid-movement, swinging its head in the direction of the noise. Instinctively it raised its damaged arm weapon, wanting to strafe the area with gunfire, but was unable to. This seemed to frustrate the beast to no end. It tossed back its malformed head and roared.
Just before it charged.
Though damaged, it was still incredibly fast, slashing at him with razor-sharp fingers. Tyler grunted with exertion, rolling across the floor to escape the enraged beast.
The biomech stood perfectly still, listening. Slowly it raised its clawed hand to its face, sniffing at the blood that covered it. Tyler glanced down at his chest to see four gashes across the front of his shirt, dark stains seeping up from beneath.
He searched the room for anything he could defend himself with. Pretty ironic, to be in a room loaded with dangerous, high-tech weaponry and unable to gain access to any of it. He looked through the doorway, back toward where he had entered, and the germ of an idea began to take shape. It was risky, but at the moment it was the best he could come up with.
The biomech attacked again, fangs bared, razor claws ready to rend. Tyler fell backward to the floor, the mechanical animal passing over to land behind him. As Tyler scrambled to his feet, the biomech barked aggressively, striking at the ground in frustration, then spun around, preparing to charge again.
Tyler darted toward the doorway at top speed. He was running through the vehicle storage room, the sound of metal claws clattering across the concrete floor dangerously close behind him, when he suddenly changed course and headed toward the futuristic tank in the room’s corner. He leapt atop the war machine and sprang at the submarine hanging from the ceiling above it, grabbing hold of its chains with his good hand.
Looking down from where he dangled on the swaying submarine, Tyler saw that the biomech had lunged, sinking its metal teeth into the front armament of the tank. The animal recoiled, growling angrily. Tyler kicked off one of his sneakers and sent it across the room, where it landed with a thud. The biomech responded to the sound, bounding from atop the tank to investigate.
Tyler angled his body, increasing the swing of the submarine, and let go at the precise moment he needed to, sailing through the air and coming down in a roll in front of the short hallway. He kicked off his other sneaker and ran in his stocking feet down the incline to the security door.
The sound of metal claws clattering on concrete grew louder as he pressed the combination into the numbered keypad. The door started to open, the red light flashing. Tyler slipped through and raced toward the virus storage chamber. He punched the number code into that door as well and heard a snakelike hiss as the room was unsealed.
Tyler entered, the blast of cold air invigorating on his sweat-dampened flesh. He grabbed a fire extinguisher from the wall, wedging it in the doorway, preventing the hermetically sealed door from closing behind him. An alarm bell began to sound as he ducked between the rows, his eyes searching for something he had seen earlier—something that could help him stop this seemingly unbeatable enemy.
Tyler had read about it during his training on alternate forms of warfare.
In its normal state—if one could call it that—the disease was called necrotizing fasciitis. It was a nasty bacteria that attacked fatty tissue and muscle, rotting it away, completely treatable with the right antibiotics when caught in time.
But that had been before a biological research team started to play with it, mutating it into something far more dangerous. In fact, that same team had literally been consumed in minutes when the voracious super-bug was accidentally released in the lab. All that had remained were bloody bones.
Tyler held the canister of flesh-eating bacteria carefully in his hand for a moment. He imagined he could feel the hungry organisms moving inside—eager to escape, to consume. Then the sounds of the approaching killer interrupted his thoughts and he wedged the canister into the waistline of his jeans and scaled the side of one of the storage racks.
It wasn’t long before the biomech came around the corner, its metal-sheathed neck extended as it sniffed the cold air, searching for his scent. The technologically enhanced animal stiffened, lowering its head to the spot where he had been standing.
Tyler screamed, pulling the canister of death from the waistline of his pants as he dropped. He landed on the biomech’s back and held on, wedging his good arm—his strongest arm—beneath the animal’s reinforced throat. It howled, throwing its body up against the heavy racks, trying to dislodge him, but he held fast.
The biomech thrashed, its actions becoming more frantic as its frustration raged. The beast hurled itself to the floor. Explosions of color suddenly erupted before Tyler’s eyes as the oxygen exploded from his lungs. He wasn’t sure how much more punishment his body could take and decided that it was time to act. This was kill or be killed, and while Tom’s presence inside him was holding Tyler back from certain actions, the drive for self-preservation at least was something the two of them shared.
Still holding fast to the hard, armored body, Tyler brought his other arm, the one holding the canister, around to the front of the beast’s face. He could feel it stiffen as it sensed an opportunity to sink its metal teeth into its prey. Tyler teased it a bit more, bringing the hand holding the container closer and then pulling it away. The creature bit blindly at the air, its metal jaws snapping like a bear trap. And finally Tyler brought the canister within its reach.
The biomech bit down on the metal object, releasing the dangerous contents in an explosion of hissing coolant as the seals on the canister were broken.
Tyler was already diving across the room, holding his breath, imagining the flesh-eating bacteria slowly awakening, becoming active, and attacking their closest source of sustenance.
The creature roared behind him, a stranger sound than he had heard before from the animal, and he suspected that his plan had worked. Now all he had to do was contain the beast and everything would be—
The blow from behind sent him hurtling into a nearby wall. Tyler fought to stay conscious, flipping onto his back to see the mechanical ape dragging itself across the floor toward him, leaving a dark, moist trail in its wake. Blood oozed from its armored plating as the bacteria began to dissolve its flesh. He scrambled away from the animal, not wanting any contact with its newly infected blood, but the blow had addled his brain.
He was dizzy, unable to recover enough speed to avoid contact with the enraged animal. It crawled toward him quickly, a thick viscous blood mixed with mucus leaking from its open mouth as the flesh of its internal workings began to liquefy.
Tyler had pulled back his foot, ready to kick the beast square in the face as it tried to crawl on him, when the sound of a single gunshot suddenly filled the air. He watched as part of the biomech’s face dissolved into pieces of broken metal, rotting skin, and bone. The creature squealed with a mixture of rage and pain as it continued to die, flipping onto its back, its body jerking in spasms as it fought to stay alive.
Tyler flipped onto his belly and looked up at the most unexpected of sights. Madison Fitzgerald stood there, pistol in hand. He wasn’t sure if she had ever fired a weapon before: judging by the vacant expression on her face, he doubted it. It had been a relatively good shot, he thought as she helped him to stand. Perhaps with some proper training,
there was room for her in the business of covert operations and assassination.
She helped him from the room, and he paused momentarily to kick the fire extinguisher away, allowing the door to seal behind them. “We don’t want anything in there getting out,” he said, finding that he needed to lean on her.
They moved farther out into the hallway outside the storage room, watching through the large glass window as the biomech succumbed to the virulent necrotizing fasciitis. The flesh and muscle beneath the armored exterior were melting like candle wax, a thick puddle of gore spreading beneath the thrashing beast as it continued to die. It seemed to look at them momentarily, its head lolling on its weakening neck, and Tyler felt an uncommon pang of sympathy for the experimental instrument of war.
He took a deep breath. He was feeling better now, able to stand on his own again, the pain in his arm and his back not so bad.
“Thanks,” he said turning to Madison with a smile, reaching out to take the gun that she was still holding. It was time to get back to business.
“Now, where did you put my canister?”
Chapter 16
TOM WASN’T SURE how long he had been falling, only that it seemed like a very long time. At some point he thought he’d lost consciousness and dreamed that he was being chased by a freaky mechanical ape.
He was actually happy when he hit ground, the sudden impact shocking him back to an awakened state—or at least as much as a person could be considered awake when trapped inside their own psyche. The darkness was firm beneath him, and he was completely blind—not an ounce of light to be found. Maneuvering into a sitting position, Tom sat in the inky black and contemplated what he should do next.
And then he felt that pull again. Careful to maintain his balance, he stood and slowly turned his body around, searching for the source of his attraction. It was like wading into the flow of a stream, and he let himself be drawn forward, breathing a sigh of relief each time his footfalls actually landed on solid surface.
Sleeper Agenda Page 13