Dead Market

by Gary Starta

  Burnham kneeled down to pat the man on the back, to wake him quietly before Brinkhaus could act.

  But to his Burnham’s dismay, Brinkhaus had acted.

  The man on the floor shot to life, his copper wig falling to rest on his shoulder. With the element of surprise, Karl Brinkhaus nearly pulled the bar from Burnham’s loosening grip. Each tug compelled Burnham to tip forward. The struggle ceased when something landed square on Burnham’s shoulder. He howled in angst. Whatever the hell it was shrieked, cat like.

  Burnham had no peripheral vision to identify the assailant but its meowing betrayed its nature. Yet the cat already betrayed Burnham forcing him to lose his last grip upon the bar.

  He attempted to swat it off of him with his left hand, but a hand from behind gripped his right wrist. Locking onto him, it pushed his momentum still further forward. He landed directly onto the still squatting Brinkhaus and finally gravity necessitated Burnham to topple over the scientist and against the far side of the cage’s railings.

  When Burnham managed to right himself, he found Brinkhaus locking the cage with the bar, Stefan Nowak encouraging him from behind. And most bizarre, the pudgy orange cat had wended its way onto Nowak’s shoulder.

  The men proceeded to distance themselves from him, paying no attention to his pleas.

  “You’ve got to let me out Nowak. Brinkhaus betrayed you and he’ll betray the whole country.”

  The distance they had created between him and the cage might offer tactical advantage, Burnham surmised. When Lorelei and James entered, she might take clear aim upon them. He realized a chance at negotiation or even gleaning the slightest bit of Intel was beyond hopeless. Nowak had been either brainwashed or had tricked Sanchez about his captivity. Or still possible, Sanchez had betrayed him, playing along with Nowak’s lies. Either way, Brinkhaus had learned of his existence via Sanchez. The element of surprise had been eliminated. Or so, Burnham thought…

  What’s taking them? Burnham imagined the worst scenarios: James pulling Lorelei out of the window to her death, James taking Lorelei’s gun and killing her just a story below him and lastly, convincing Lorelei to flee the scene leaving him desperately alone.

  He willed the two lab rats to continue their conference, immerse themselves in casual banter while Lorelei surprised them. But as a long moment ticked painfully slow, Burnham had to wonder if they already knew about her. It stood to reason. If they knew he was coming. They knew she was coming…

  A door clacked softly shut. Shit, either way a surprise attack is out of the question…

  But the men continued conferring with one another until Nowak stepped away and headed for another room.

  Now’s the chance…Come on Lorelei. James, I could use your bad ass right about now…

  Burnham realized they were probably approaching with caution, possibly even crawling on their hands and knees if they already spotted Brinkhaus.

  But Burnham discovered the element of surprise was not to be wasted on the scientist.

  Lorelei strode right toward the center of the room, not even expending the effort to glance in his direction. She approached Brinkhaus with casual indifference, her gun in hand, but not even aimed to fire. Amado James was nowhere in sight.

  Now’s not the time to be the pacifist, Lorelei. Forget what I said. Just shoot the bastard…

  She came to a halt a few feet short of the scientist who nodded his head at her as if some agreement.

  She, in turn, tilted her head sideways locking eyes with the approaching Nowak, who carried a weapon in his right hand. He approached her, casual, nonchalant. Eventually, relinquishing the rifle shaped gun to her.

  Burnham attempted to shake the bar from its latches in final desperation. The hunger rose within. He growled in defiance. He could only hope his outburst might spark Lorelei to do the same.

  “Don’t waste your energy,” Brinkhaus called. The man didn’t even turn his eyes toward him. His focus remained on Lorelei and whatever weapon she had now acquired. It seemed she only had eyes for her new toy.

  ***

  A day earlier…

  “You’ve got to be an actor, Mr. Nowak. You can do that, can’t you – you’re American – I thought all you Americans could play.”

  Bronchus’s hands were on his hips. Frustrated but not defeated, he willed the patience to return so he could coach his apprentice.

  “Say it with intent,” Brinkhaus rambled on. Nowak nodded during each of his mentor’s pauses. The men practiced his lines within the iron confines of the cage. It made telepathic transmission all but impossible. On the flip side, it ensured safe haven for the men to talk in secrecy without tipping off Jose Sanchez. Nowak had to make the thug believe his S.O.S. was real if he was to stay in the good graces of Brinkhaus.

  A brief moment in time existed when Stefan Nowak wouldn’t have had to play act. He would have allowed anger rise to the surface and betray his dream to walk in Karl Bronchus’s shoes. But the damage had been done. He was turned into a reanimate. What good would anger do him now? It would be best to continue his quest, learn how to manipulate genetic coding via disease, then, one day transform himself from apprentice into master. Also, he needed to be injected with the L2.1 revision. He would most definitely need to shed his cannibalistic urges if he were to become the world’s second greatest human architect. He needed Karl Brinkhaus to think nicely – if not highly – of him.

  So, Stefan Nowak caved in and bowed to his master. But would he really become the master geneticist? He hadn’t even had the resolve to lie convincingly and for all he knew he had already betrayed their plans.

  But Stefan Nowak grew most valuable in his master’s eyes when he revealed another reanimate was hooked into his telepathic network.

  ***

  Lorelei Lindquist found she could hear thoughts of other telepathically gifted reanimates. Yet she couldn’t send her thoughts back. She surmised the pills had somehow inhibited or damaged this ability. But she was certain she had heard a man named Nowak in her thoughts. So certain she felt obligated to recruit for this man and his master. They held the keys to salvation, the promise of correcting her hunger so she could one day become reunited with her daughter.

  She heard the man recalling a conversation with his master. The master said it would most beneficial to procure a man and woman with a worthy genetic makeup for the cause, an Adam and Eve who could carry on their gift through child bearing. Lorelei realized Derek Burnham would never willingly submit to such suggestions. Hard core cop and stubborn control freak through and through, discussion with him would fall on deaf ears. So Lorelei attempted to recruit, finding a leering man at a bus station. She willed him closer to her with feminine charms and then showed her true colors of her reformation, hoping the man would find perverse enjoyment in the vile act. Believing men craved power and that giving her disease to him would be beneficial for everyone, Lorelei attempted to turn the man on the street without his consent. But Burnham interrupted allowing the man to escape into the grill of an oncoming car. Lorelei believed her plans to be dashed. She dismissed the idea of turning David Finch into a reanimate. It would be too messy, Burnham would retaliate and besides deep down, Lorelei had a soft spot for the bartender/comedian.

  With dart gun in hand, Lorelei would make good on providing Karl Brinkhaus with the Adam and Eve he only dreamt of…

  Brinkhaus held great hope. The female hooked into Nowak’s transmissions should be encouraged to trick the ex-cop Burnham into coming to Miami in the false belief that Stefan Nowak was a victim. He couldn’t hear Lorelei’s thoughts, but enough hope was generated via Jose Sanchez. His mind confirmed she and Burnham existed. Brinkhaus just needed to devise a way to breadcrumb a trail to his gingerbread house.

  Now she stood before Karl Brinkhaus, a statuette of genetic worthiness. He marveled at her, not sexually, but as a chess piece in his game to create an evolved humanity. Th
e fact he could test the L2.1 revision on existing reanimates was yet another bonus. He could not have conceived his extortion of Amado James to work out so rewardingly. But it had. Because of it, an Adam and Eve now graced the murky halls of his laboratory.

  Lorelei pointed the dart gun at Burnham.

  “I thought you would like the honors,” Brinkhaus said, hands clasped together, marveling at his fortune. And you in the cage, this is for your own good. It will correct your handicap.”

  Burnham wondered what the hell the man meant. Lorelei began to explain.

  “I did what I had to do to get my…a…life back. You were right about my daughter. I couldn’t live without her. I’m her mother. That bond was too strong to ignore. And yes, I tricked you. I’m sorry but I had to. I used reverse psychology on you, pretending I doubted Sanchez, opposing you just enough so your iron will - your fucking control freak nature - would kick into overdrive. Then you would be willing to do just the opposite of what I suggested. It worked on my daughter, shit who knew it would work on adults?” She laughed softly as if she were daydreaming.

  “Listen to yourself, Lorelei. You’re sounding maniacal. There’s got to be another way. You don’t know you can trust what Brinkhaus promises. I know you believe whatever is in that gun will take away our hunger. I want to as well. But what if it doesn’t? What if things get worse?”

  “That’s cop talk, Burnham. Always freaking scared of any deviation. I’m not hooked into your guilt trip. You can ride solo on this one. I’m going to correct us. You’ll see this is for the best.”

  Brinkhaus turned to Burnham. “You will need to die – again. But when you restart, genetic coding will be corrected. Your pituitary gland will no longer send out impulses to crave flesh and blood. And as a bonus - you’re going to love this - I have altered more genetic coding.” He paused to clap his hands together. “I will have made you immortal.”

  “How can you know that,” Burnham challenged. “Have you tested this?”

  “I will test it now. You will become Adam and Eve, the original versions of man and woman, before God took away immortality. And in any event, your hunger will have subsided. You won’t need those damn blue pills anymore.”

  Burnham squinted and his world tipped upside down. The promises from Brinkhaus coupled with the fact that his deepest suspicions about Lorelei were coming true nearly made him faint. But he became immediately alert when Lorelei stood no more than two yards from his prison, a dart gun poised and aimed to kill him – for the second time.

  He awoke unaware of how much time had passed. Only minutes yet the damage had been done.

  He immersed from his cage – the door now swung wide open – to find Lorelei lying on her back.

  He came to quick conclusion. Either she or the scientists had injected her.

  He attempted to stand, slowly. As he did, he scanned the room. Shit, they’re long gone by now. But the angry thought didn’t compel him to turn cannibalistic. The raw hunger…no longer existed.

  So, they had told the truth? He couldn’t be sure. He couldn’t be sure if Lorelei would reanimate again. She lay there stone cold. He wondered if this window of opportunity might allow him to make sure she never conspired with the likes of Karl Brinkhaus again. He knelt down beside her, hands reached to clamp down on either side of her neck. Reanimation would be doubtful with a broken neck. His fingers began to tighten around her neck. Just remember she’s already dead…you’re not really killing her…

  Tears welled in Derek Burnham’s eyes. No. He couldn’t do it.

  In an instant, the window of opportunity had passed.

  Her eyes fluttered open. But her eyes were no longer an icy shade of blue. They were more of a calming blue, cerulean. And she wasn’t angry. Her facial expression belied the placidity of a born-again believer. Not the angry, vengeance filled hatred of a mother scorned.

  “I…I’ll be able to see my daughter again…”

  The sentence forced Burnham to stow his rage, her betrayal, the fact that the men most capable of spreading what Brinkhaus referred to as the L2.1 revision would be free to unleash it nationwide.

  He wanted to say, how could you? Instead he whispered monosyllabically: how could you not?

  Chapter 31

  A cat’s cry led Burnham and Lorelei down a hallway. Lorelei ambled along, holding Burnham’s hand as they made their way.

  The anger of her betrayal, that Karl Brinkhaus had escaped them, the strong possibility that she had murdered Amado James, burned in the pit of his stomach. Yet the tears still welling up in Lorelei’s eyes, the emotion she held for her daughter, forced Burnham to mask it the best he could. He converted that anger to energy, keeping them both moving along toward the mewling.

  “It’s an entryway, possibly for the roof,” Burnham said, eyeing a stairwell.

  Lorelei held her hand over her nose and mouth.

  “What is it?”

  “Can’t you smell that? Something’s burning, horribly.”

  “I don’t...” Burnham’s mind raced. Did Brinkhaus torch the building before his departure?

  “I think my sense of smell has been amplified.” She murmured it to herself as if it explained something.

  “When you awoke?” Burnham asked.

  “No. The other day… I smelled Finch – the pomegranate. It’s why I felt so compelled to…” Her voice trailed off. Her eyes fell to the floor.

  Burnham understood. “It’s okay. Whatever is going on between you is okay. And it also means we have retained our abilities – less the hunger.”

  She dared to face him. “Even after all this? You’re okay with me and Finch?”

  “I’m trying my damn best to rationalize this, Lorelei. You did this for your daughter; you may have even corrected us – whatever that means. But Brinkhaus is still free to unleash the disease. And we don’t have a fucking clue as to who else is working with him.”

  “When are you going to stop believing you can save everyone? What just happened was the best-case scenario. We can’t shed the disease. But now we can try to live with it.” The cat continued its crying.

  “Are you strong enough to make it up the stairs? I just have to see if…”

  “Shit, Burnham. You think he’s still here. Don’t you?”

  “I’ll go by myself if you want to wait here.”

  She shook her head. “I’m coming. We need to satisfy your curiosity and then get the hell out of here.”

  “Agreed,” Burnham said.

  Lorelei’s heightened olfactory senses were correct. Thick black smoke plumed across the building’s roof, the blaze of a fire providing illumination. They both started to cough.

  “Maybe he didn’t get away after all,” Burnham said between gasps.

  They both raised their shirts as a makeshift breathing mask. Burnham recognized the stench. Fuel was burning, possibly from an explosion.

  A voice called from behind. It was Finch.

  “Mates, I am so bleeding happy to see you. I thought we were too late.”

  Finch and Sanchez were standing in a front of a helicopter, diagonally across from the one now aflame. A large, long gun dangled from Sanchez’s hand. Lorelei and Burnham were the middle pieces in a deadly board game.

  “He tried to get away. But our friend put a bullet in his copter’s tank,” Finch yelled.

  Burnham urged Lorelei to walk after realizing Sanchez wasn’t going to turn the gun on them. “We can talk about this in the air. We’ve got to get out of here. Someone is going to report the smoke.”

  Burnham winced. Whatever might be left in the lab, the L2 formula, pills – possibly even a cure – would have to be abandoned. Not to mention the calling card they had left behind: James’s dead body – probably riddled with a bullet – but Burnham would never be quite sure as Brinkhaus had most likely confiscated the weapon used to kill him. Everything i
nside the burning copter must surely be incinerated by now. And then there was Finch’s automobile. He wanted to scream but he hugged Lorelei closer to his chest. “It’s going to be all right, Lorelei. You’re going to see your daughter again.” Burnham kept a slight grip on his sanity by reason. They had at least saved Lorelei’s daughter from becoming an orphan. The life of one being had supplanted the many. It would have to do.

  A cat mewled from behind Burnham.

  Finch called out to it. “Here, kitty, kitty.”

  A cat – identical to the one he was calling – suddenly landed on Finch’s shoulder as the one scurrying across the roof melted into thin air.

  “It’s a reanimate Finch,” Burnham called out. “But I don’t see any harm in taking him with us.”

  Lorelei grumbled. “Just don’t let him name it. Remember he called his last cat, Plump-kin.”

  “James didn’t make it, did he?” Sanchez asked.

  Burnham shook his head.

  ***

  Finch explained he just couldn’t sit on his hands waiting for their return. He had to trust Sanchez and – by the looks of it – that trust had paid off. As they gathered in the copter, Sanchez asked if anyone else could pilot it. “I’m spent.”

  “I can,” Burnham answered. “It’s not that I don’t trust you Sanchez – after what you’ve done – but maybe I can bone up on my piloting skills.”

  Finch looked at Burnham incredulously. “Mate, you never told me you could fly.”

  “Just copters, Finch; I took some lessons while in the academy.”

  “But would anyone mind explaining to me how you scored this bird?”

  Sanchez ambled into a backseat with Finch and the cat. Lorelei took shotgun.

  “Well, I’m waiting,” Burnham said, his eyes roving over levers. He maneuvered the control stick and they lifted off the roof. He turned his head, eyes peering into Sanchez’s.