Catalyst (Book 3): Ghost Country

by Franks, JK

  It wasn’t death…it was silence. No water dripping, no sounds of shackles rattling against chains. What is this? Someone was gently rubbing her wrist. The sudden change from torment to tender was too much for her. She sobbed to be released, all of her anger forgotten for the moment. The sound of monitors beeping began to fill the silence. Slowly, incrementally, she began to hear other sounds. A cart with a squeaky wheel traveling down a hall. Someone writing with a pencil, the scratching noises unmistakable.

  “She’s coming around,” a nearby voice said.

  She tried to open her eyes and was surprised to realize they already were. Am I blind? No, maybe…there was light, very muted light, but nothing else. Nothing differentiated between light and dark. She could move her head a tiny amount, but what she saw stayed the same. A milky opaque shroud of nothingness. She had put a plastic bag over her head once as a child, this was the same, yet she felt no bag, no covering of any kind.

  “How long before we know?” another voice asked, a…familiar voice.

  If he was answered, she didn’t hear it. She was too busy taking in sensations from the world around her. Although she couldn’t move and couldn’t see, her body seemed more alive than ever. Her hand felt the smooth metal table beneath the pad she lay on. Her fingertip traced part of the stitching on the webbed nylon restraints on her wrist. From the echoes, she knew the approximate size of the room with no idea how she knew. She picked up the scents of four people nearby, three were male, one female. The female was ovulating. Again, she had no idea how she knew, but she filed it away as a certainty. One of the males was scared, the fear wafted off of him like a curtain. He is scared of me, she thought wryly.

  In the distance, she heard someone dialing a phone. Outside a distant window, she heard a muted songbird. That particular bird mates in spring, it must be spring. What time of year was it when they took her? She couldn’t recall. Analyze everything, take every scrap of information you can. The scene may disappear again. They are toying with you. Make them pay. Beyond the heightened senses, her mind was firing at blazing speed, too fast, in fact. She felt herself overheating.

  “Pulse is rising, body temperature 99.4.”

  She instructed her body to calm; it did so instantly.

  “Back to normal,” the male voice said.

  She lay there, unmoving, unseeing but knowing more about everything. She had been conscious for thirteen and a half minutes. The air temperature in the room was between 69 and 71 degrees. The person with the pencil was left handed. The scared man had consumed alcohol earlier in the day, she could smell trace amounts emanating from the pores of his skin. Vodka, she thought. The man was sick, something inside him was wrong, she couldn’t be more specific, but she knew it was true.

  All of these facts and a hundred more passed through her mind every second. The most unusual thing was it all felt completely normal. Nothing felt off or unusual, it was simply the way she was. As if she had been asleep most of her life, and now she was awake.

  She felt the man leaning over her. She heard his laboring breaths, she knew he was examining her body. She did not need to see the man’s face, he was the one with the familiar voice. He neared her face, she could feel the heat from his body. This was the man from the window, this was the man she would focus all of her hatred on. This was her captor and tormentor.

  “Hello, Father,” her words dripping with hatred.

  Chapter Ninety

  Northern Mississippi

  The Marine general absently caressed one of the Colt 1911 Desert Eagles strapped to his waist. Of all the shit from the last two years, this one turned his stomach the most. The mechanized division he was riding with was made up of vehicles and units from all over. They had spent the greater part of forty-eight hours following the Navy’s instructions to integrate audio generators into the vehicles’ external speakers. They’d even cobbled together some handheld radios capable of generating the soundwave. Now, he watched amazed as the infected ahead began fleeing from the silent frequencies. “It’s working, General,” one of his men said.

  Yeah, it’s working, but it’s still grotesque. Using infected American citizens as a weapon made the general sick. It did beat the alternative, though. Growing up on a ranch in west Texas had taught him a lot about rounding up cattle. You had to stay even with the lead and to the side to keep a herd pointed the right way. In this case, that meant pointing them toward Memphis, yet avoiding rougher terrain. The infected struggled with large hills and avoided rivers. “Watch our corners, Captain. If any of them slip behind us…” The young man nodded, he knew how bad it could be.

  “What a shitty way to fight a war,” the general stated flatly. His great-grandfather had been a legend to the corp. How will I be remembered? he wondered. “In a few more miles begin channeling in the left side. Those idiots are giving the horde too much space.” Fuck with the cattle analogy, this was more like herding cats. Really fucking pissed off cats with the ability to tear you to pieces or just breathe on you or bite you to turn you into one of ‘em. “Gotta hand it to those Navy boys, though, never would have thought of this,” he yelled to the captain. He did inwardly wish they’d also been able to supply more of his soldiers with some of the anti-viral treatment. Like his men, he also knew this mission would likely not end well for any of them.

  Several hours later, numerous problems with the plan had become evident. One was that their progress toward Memphis was slowing to a crawl. While the infected horde moved fast for humans, it was slow for a mechanized division. Second, it was exhausting keeping them together and away from the lines. They couldn’t stop, just like with cattle, they began to disperse when you stopped moving, so no breaks, no meals, no fucking stopping for any reason. Lastly, any gaps in the line proved to be fatal. They had already lost men when a Humvee broke down and the speaker stopped. The horde

  overran them in seconds. The next vehicle had to fire indiscriminately into the mass to keep the rest of the infected from swarming to the kill. Having Marines fire on fellow soldiers was going to haunt these guys the rest of their lives. Chances were, though, that might only be a few more days.

  The rains started the second night; the herding vehicles began getting stuck and breaking ranks. “Shit.” The general stared out with disgust as smaller jeeps and UTVs filled in the gaps. The horde he was handling was estimated at over twenty-thousand individuals now. His rag-tag battalion had also grown as other units joined in. Memphis was less than thirty miles away, and somewhere beyond was the cause of much of this nation’s misery.

  Chapter Ninety-One

  Near Memphis, Tennessee

  He touched her naked back, his fingers gently tracing the perfect lines of her body. Gia, his Gia, lying here, loving him, wanting him. She was saying something, something he only half heard. The Suburban hitting a rut along the rain soaked, unpaved road jolted him awake. The dream again, his subconscious torturing him by reliving their last perfect night together. As the memory faded, something nagged at him, something he needed to remember, but it was gone. A painful cramp gripped his stomach, and he gasped as it spasmed, then relaxed. When had they eaten…he couldn’t recall, so he pulled a protein bar from a trouser pocket and began breaking off pieces and popping them in his mouth.

  It was crowded in the big Chevy, Nez was beside him asleep as most of the others seemed to be. These guys could sleep on command he’d decided. Krychek was driving. Getting away from the hotel had been less dramatic than they feared. While the number of infected had grown significantly, they had all been in front and on the road. As the Spec Op group exited the back and ran to the car, they’d seen no one. On the highway, it had been a different story passing many who ran after the truck and some who stood directly in its path. As they neared the area where the facility should be, the number had thinned noticeably.

  “This is as far as we can go by car,” Krychek announced pulling over to an abandoned gas station. “Unload the gear, and I’ll hide the car.” All of them were wi
de awake and grabbing gear and weapons as they piled out and swept the area for threats.

  Owens tossed out two packs from the rack above his passenger’s seat. “Haven’t seen any of the beasties in about ten miles but need to stay sharp.”

  Scott thought of the irony that in a world full of creatures like the infected, they were a mere nuisance compared to the human threats. Nez used a tool to unlock the gas station’s side door. They all piled in and stowed gear in the darkened interior. Skybox had given them a relatively good idea as to the site’s entrance, but they needed to find the back door. Being this close was risky, no doubt the protectorate facility had sensors everywhere.

  “Solo, patrol.” He watched as the dog sped off. “I’m heading up top, need to radio the AG.”

  “Make it fast,” Rollins said. “Use the rolling freqs like I showed you.”

  “Yes, dear.” Radio discipline had been drummed into him so much it was now automatic. Broadcasting in the clear, anyone looking for them nearby could triangulate a location within minutes. The military spec radios got around this by skipping channels on a predetermined basis, so a signal should only pick up on a scanner for an instant before disappearing.

  His brother was apparently the one on duty in the comms room. His voice echoed the opposing emotions of both relief and concern. “Got a lot for you, Bro. You ready?”

  Scott keyed back affirmative. “First, you are about to have a shit load of company, good and bad.” Bobby filled him in on the growing military presence heading toward them. “Dude, you have to find her and get the fuck out pronto. You are going to be ground zero for a major fucking battle otherwise.”

  “That sounds kinda great, though, we can use the help―what’s the bad?” Scott asked. Once his brother told him what was coming in front of the troops, his blood ran cold. “They are herding the infected? How in the fuck did Tahir figure that shit out?”

  “Kid’s a genius, a lot smarter than you, obviously.”

  “Smartass,” Scott retorted.

  “I have the information, you can get Rollins to rig something up for your team, should help give you a bit of protection. The damn thing works great, only problem is, the migration west seems to be speeding up all the others moving south as well. We have begun to encounter them out at the farms.”

  “Does the skipper have everything ready to go?” Scott asked.

  “Yeah, we’re ready, just waiting on our guests, some are showing up already, but looks like it might be close.” Scott had to think a moment before he realized he meant the people on the Patriot Network. So, they had made the call.

  “One other thing, BikerBoi,” Bobby paused a long moment before continuing. “They found Diana’s body.” The sound of shuffling came over the headset, “Here the, umm…inspector wants to tell you.”

  Trish’s voice came over the radio, “Hey Sco…Oh, damn, sorry. I mean BikerBoi. Yeah, hey, your friend Ta…shit,” she paused, “AlphaCat?” she said questioningly. “Anyway, he actually found her. She was in the cold storage locker on the… fuck, out at the lab. I don’t know how you guys talk without actually saying anything. Anyway, the girl looked like she had been, worked on, like maybe tortured. We are holding the lab staff for questioning but, anyway, just thought you should know.”

  Chapter Ninety-Two

  Thunder Ridge Protectorate

  She pulled back away from the mirror with a start, the anger etched on her face slowly beginning to recede like a beast guarding a great secret. She deserved a normal life; it was all she had ever wanted. Not this. No, not this at all. The opulent décor in the luxury suite wouldn’t have been out of place at the Mandarin, or Four Seasons, not even at her favorite, the Park Hyatt-Vendome in Paris. Here, buried deep in a Tennessee hillside, it didn’t feel like any of those other places. If she was honest, it didn’t feel like anything, really.

  Her life had been ordained from the moment of conception. She would grow up to be a Levy, a leader. Instead, she wanted to be something else, someone else. Her father had decided for her. She’d been a child, and to him, incapable of making smart decisions. She’d been nine or ten the first time she’d run away from the family estate. Her father had been furious when security found her and brought her back. He’d sent her off to boarding school then, a snobbish place that pulled the very soul from her body. She was drilled on history, politics, finance, yet she craved the romance languages, science and literature.

  Again, she ran away, over and over, the consequences of rebellion growing worse each time, until he’d had enough until…they did the horrible, horrible things to her. When she closed her eyes, those were the memories that flooded the space. No happy thoughts, those were but fleeting sparks among a conflagration of evil. The hospitals, retreats and then the chamber. The evil place where her darkness first took root. What kind of man could do that to his child? If he wanted to raise a tyrant, he couldn’t have planned it any better.

  She dropped solidly onto the intricately embroidered settee thinking again that she was still imprisoned, while others might see the accouterment and think how lucky she was. All she had to do was think back, and all of the silk, cashmere, leather and lace were swept away to be replaced by dark, water-soaked rock walls where her wrist was chained and the image of a man, her father, looking through the one small window on the cell door.

  He made me. She was the one who’d eventually learned to say the things he wanted to hear. It had nearly killed her to do so. The priceless look of relief he gave that he’d finally broken his strong-willed daughter. Over the years, she had perfected the art of being his perfect daughter, being a Levy. She wondered if he ever suspected her plan to destroy his legacy or the fact she never stopped running away. She simply learned to hide it better. Much better.

  He ran his hand along the smooth metal. Skybox knew there was a release mechanism built into the frame. He’d seen it being used earlier in the day. No matter how secure you made something, you rarely could overcome human nature. You make a person change their password every month, they get where they can’t remember it without writing it down and hiding it somewhere close by. If you lock smart people up in a high-security environment long enough, some joker will figure out how to shunt the security to go out for an illicit smoke break. The human-side of operating systems was always the weak link, but in this case, he was thankful.

  The latch popped up with a snick. The wall panel clicked outward revealing the maintenance passage behind. While he was heeding Angel’s warnings of eyes everywhere, he knew if the lab tech he’d watched do it could get by with it, so could he. The truth was, he just didn’t care, he had to take some risk. It had been nearly a week, and he had yet to spot Gia, get word to Scott or hear anyone even mention the infamous Levy. What he had learned, though, was the infected topside were increasing and driving the security systems nuts. The microwave panel array and other station deterrents were constantly going off and cooking off one of the infected. His friend, Tommy, was somewhere up there as well. Watching, waiting for a way in. He felt comfortable his friend would be fine but, as usual, had no idea why.

  The technology and devices these guys were using for security were beyond cutting-edge. Active perimeter systems, sensory light and sound systems that could induce seizures which could incapacitate an intruder. The thermal microwave system, armed mini-drones as well as precise-fire AI controlled defensive weaponry that essentially took the gun out of the guard’s hand and let the computer system handle targeting and threat elimination. There was a weakness in all these systems, though, and that was from directly above. Anyone dropping straight into the facility might have an advantage. That was his thought until he watched a supply chopper coming in. The pilots were vectored into a very tight flight space along a narrow valley. The ridge guns tracked the incoming aircraft automatically. One gun was always trained at the pilot’s head, the camera feed so sharp you could literally see beads of sweat on his forehead as he navigated the tight flight corridor.

  As the
supply craft got to the landing station, a platform emerged from the ground, the edges bristling with compact missiles housed in sleek SAM arrays on each corner. The automated turrets worked independently, one always trained on the craft, the other four looking for other targets.

  He slipped into the courtyard and looked for the cameras. High overhead, the rock ceiling would block any radio signals. Shit. He would have to find another way to contact the team. Much of the camp was exposed, not underground. There were paddocks for livestock, meadows for grazing and even what appeared to be small recreation area about the size of a kid’s baseball field, all surrounded by high, angry-looking fencing. The open-air areas were not connected; instead, they were accessed from cavern tunnels below ground. As far as he could tell, there was no exit from these areas to the forest beyond, but…this was where Scott needed to come in. He just needed a way to let him know when.

  Chapter Ninety-Three

  “Sorry, sir, science personnel only.” The black-uniformed guard was eyeing him cautiously. Fear was etched all over his face. The one thing the grey camo shirt and trousers did most effectively was command respect. No one wanted to piss off a Praetor commander.

  Sky walked briskly at the man and pulled his lanyard close to inspect the rank and name. “Pittman.”

  “Sir!” the man said as he executed a sloppy salute.