“How do we stop them?” He put the empty plate in the dishwasher. It was almost time to bundle up Tammy and put her in the SUV’s backseat, along with whatever other gizmos Jorie decided they’d need.
“We can’t stop the Tresh. Even with your friend Zeke Martinez…even with your full security force.” She let out a short breath, then raked one hand through her hair. “Our only choice is to stop the zombies. Destroy any chance the Tresh have of altering them for their use.”
“All of them?” Last he asked her, she said there were over three hundred. Theo didn’t know how many more parks he could close under the guise of a wandering rabid raccoon just so they could turn the zombies into fooshing green circles.
“That’s what the Tresh would expect a Guardian to do: terminate the herd, starting with the juveniles. It’s standard Guardian procedure. And that’s exactly why we won’t do that.”
“Then what—”
“We must locate and terminate the C-Prime—who will be heavily guarded by the juveniles and the mature drones.” Jorie shoved herself away from the counter. “If Lorik’s last summations are correct, we only have one replication cycle—roughly six of your days—in order to do so. Or else the mutation the Tresh have programmed will progress to the next generation. Six days after that, the next. Once the hatchlings are out, nothing short of a full Guardian attack force will be able to stop them. And that’s something we no longer have.”
He followed her back to his bedroom in silence, his mind working over the import of her words. Then, while she gently woke Tammy and prepped her for the ride to the clinic, he grabbed his tac vest, heavy-duty boots, sweatshirt, and his ankle-holstered backup gun, and ducked into his bathroom to change.
Theo waited for something to go radically wrong—in keeping with everything else that had happened so far—on the drive to Suzanne Martinez’s veterinary clinic, with Tammy lying on the backseat and Jorie talking softly to her in her own language. But other than his aunt Tootie calling on his cell phone, sounding forlorn that he was working and might not make Christmas dinner tomorrow, the twenty-minute drive was uneventful. No Tresh zoomed by in X-wing fighters, firing starburst lasers at them. No zombies materialized in the intersection, slashing at the overhead traffic lights.
Traffic was sparse. He didn’t have to hit his lights or siren once.
That gave him too much time to think and only made his nerves worse when he pulled around the back of the L-shaped white stucco clinic and saw Zeke’s unmarked Crown Vic in the parking spot marked DOCTOR S. MARTINEZ. Lights shining through the low palm trees shading the clinic’s rear windows told him his friends were inside and waiting.
Well, here we go.
He had no idea how Zeke would react to the news that outer-space aliens resided in Bahia Vista. No, he did. Every cop on patrol had had more than his or her share of Signal 20s who claimed to be the galactic emperor from Alpha Centauri or who believed that FBI agents lived in his refrigerator and Martians were camped out in his attic—which was the reason for lining his baseball cap and his underwear with aluminum foil.
And shooting BB pellets at the neighbors.
All Theo had were Jorie, her gizmos, and his Paroo cube. The latter of which, he realized as he put the SUV into park, wasn’t all that much unlike one of those high-tech toys found in a Sharper Image catalog. Or on eBay.
But helping Tammy was his main priority right now. Let Suzanne get that damned thing out of Tammy’s shoulder—he’d talk to her later about the one in his. Let Tammy be, if not overly mobile, at least able to work with Jorie on the zombie problem verbally.
Maybe that would take some of the pinched look out of Jorie’s golden-hued eyes. God knew she had enough to worry about.
So did he. Zeke was going to Baker-Act him for sure.
“How’s she doing?” he asked over his shoulder as he turned off the engine. Jorie had spent the entire trip on the floor wedged between the front and rear seats, her scanner gizmo doing whatever her scanner gizmo did to keep Tammy alive and as pain-free as possible.
“I be…okay.” Tammy’s voice was strained, weak.
He looked at Jorie. She was shaking her head. “No change.”
“Wait until I come around to help you with her.”
The back door of the clinic swung open when Theo’s boots hit the ground, the muffled sounds of dogs barking flowing out. The separate kennel wing—rebuilt to hurricane-proof specifications two years ago—was off to the right but attached to the main clinic a few feet from the back door. Zeke appeared in the doorway, silhouetted by the light behind him, rifle in one hand.
“Does Suzanne have a stretcher, a gurney?” Theo called out.
Zeke ducked back inside and reappeared moments later, pushing a gurney.
Tammy tried to sit up. Jorie moved up on the seat behind her and held her upright until Theo could slip his arms under her legs and around her back. He placed her carefully on the gurney.
“Ay, madre mia, so young,” Zeke said as he secured the straps around Tammy’s body. She tried to smile, but then her eyes fluttered closed.
Theo had no idea how old Tammy was. He had no idea how old Jorie was. So he only nodded and stepped back, letting Jorie go ahead of him inside.
The barking became louder, a cat meowed, the sounds filtering through the metal crash-barred door that led to the kennel wing.
“Theo!” Suzanne Martinez, in powder-blue scrubs dotted with frolicking kittens and puppies, hurried to his side and brushed a quick kiss across his cheek. She was a stocky—pleasingly plump, Aunt Tootie often said—brunette with a heart-shaped face and upturned nose. Her long hair was pulled back into a ponytail and tied with a gold bow—incongruous with her outfit and obviously a remnant of their aborted evening plans. Theo again felt a pang of regret for taking them away from their party—and quite possibly risking their lives. But not only had he not known what else to do, he truly felt this was the best thing to do.
He heard Zeke lock the door behind them.
Suzanne was already stroking the hair out of Tammy’s face. “Hi. I’m Suzanne Martinez.” She looked back up at Theo. “Zeke said she has something in her shoulder? Shrapnel?”
“A small device. Like a microchip, I think. Jorie can—Jorie.” He touched Jorie’s arm, taking her attention from Tammy. She’d been hovering over her lieutenant like a nervous mother hen ever since they’d arrived. He’d probably be the same way if he was in a hospital with Zeke on the gurney. “You remember Zeke Martinez? This is Suzanne, his wife. Doctor Suzanne Martinez.”
Suzanne nodded. “I hope Theo told you—”
Theo held up one hand, halting Suzanne’s words and explanation, he believed, of her status as a veterinarian. “Suzanne, this is Commander Jorie Mikkalah.”
“Commander?” That from Zeke, now standing next to his wife.
“And this young lady?” Suzanne asked, looking back down at Tammy.
“Lieutenant Tamlynne Herryck,” Jorie supplied.
“I be…okay,” Tammy said softly.
Jorie patted her hand, said something Theo couldn’t understand. Tammy closed her eyes again.
“Is she in immediate danger?” Suzanne asked.
“She had a small seizure about an hour ago, but she’s stable right now,” Theo said.
Suzanne looked troubled. “I assume there’s a valid reason you brought her here instead of to a regular hospital. And requested that my kennel staff be kept out of this. After all my years being a cop’s wife, I’m used to not asking. Or rather, not getting answers when I ask. But I want you to very clearly understand the difference in my skills here.” She glanced at Jorie. “He did tell you that I’m a veterinarian?”
“No,” Theo said, before Jorie could answer. “English isn’t her native language.”
“Inuktitut,” Zeke told his wife.
“Eskimo?” Suzanne’s eyes widened.
“No!” Theo said again, forcefully enough that both Zeke and Suzanne turned abruptly to him. “Zek
e, I’ll…I’ll explain in a bit. But first let’s get that thing out of her, okay?”
A parrot—at least, Theo assumed it was a parrot—chose that moment to let out a raucous shriek. A cat meowed loudly in answer.
“You have companions here?” Jorie asked.
“Companions?” Theo and Suzanne said at the same time.
Jorie spread her hands, delineating something small, then something larger. “Creatures of feather and fur for emotional comfort and guidance. You use them to heal your patients?”
Suzanne eyed Jorie quizzically. “No—that is, yes. I’m a veterinarian. A…companion doctor.”
Jorie nodded solemnly and Theo saw relief spread over her face, her shoulders relaxing. “That’s the first blissful news I’ve had since—well, thank you.” She turned to Theo and laid her fingers on his hand. “Accept my regrets for doubting you.”
“Doubting me about what?”
“When you said this female was a med-tech. I was afraid the skill level…Regrets.” Jorie nodded to Suzanne again. “I was afraid she’d not have the skills because of the low level of technology on your world. But a med-tech who heals companions is the most skilled of all. Thank you.”
The blatantly puzzled expressions on Suzanne’s and Zeke’s faces would have been funny if the situation weren’t so serious.
Suzanne was the first, however, to catch on. “On our world?”
Theo was saved from answering by a soft whimper of pain from Tammy. Jorie immediately had her scanner out. Suzanne stared over Jorie’s shoulder, eyes wide.
“The implant.” Jorie pointed to an image on the screen.
“Is that a…handheld MRI?”
“It does a lot of things,” Theo told her. “Jorie will explain as much as she can later. But right now can you remove that thing?”
Suzanne reached for the scanner. “May I?”
Jorie handed it to her, and for the next few moments, the blue-walled back room of the clinic was filled with the soft sounds of the two women’s voices, the staccato barking of a dog, and the occasional shriek of a feathered companion.
Theo leaned against a grooming table, feeling useless.
“Theophilus.” Zeke flanked Theo’s right side. “What in hell is going on?”
“I could tell you, Ezequiel, but you won’t believe me.”
Suzanne raised one hand, catching Theo’s attention. “I’m going to take her into surgery. We’ll call you boys if we need anything.”
“How long?” Theo asked.
Suzanne exchanged glances with Jorie. “I want to run some tests first. That shouldn’t be more than fifteen minutes. Then, if we don’t encounter any complications, half an hour to forty-five minutes. That…thing is fairly close to the surface. But I’ll want to monitor her in recovery for at least two hours after that. I suggest you two find the coffeemaker in the staff room and get it brewing.”
With that she turned and, with Jorie on one side, wheeled Tammy down the short hall.
Theo watched them go. He could feel Zeke staring at him the entire time.
“You won’t believe me,” he said before Zeke could repeat the question.
Zeke rocked back on his heels. “Try me.”
“Make some coffee. I refuse to be Baker-Acted without sufficient caffeine in my veins.”
17
It took Theo over half an hour to explain—or try to explain—about Jorie and the zombies and the Tresh. Then he sat in silence, sipping a cup of Zeke’s wonderful black-as-mud coffee, as his friend and former partner examined the Guardian laser pistol, Hazer micro-rifle, and, lastly, the cube showing holographs of Paroo.
“Looks like Tahiti,” Zeke said.
Theo leaned forward and pressed an icon on the side of the top screen. He’d figured out the zoom feature yesterday after returning from the confrontation with the zombies in the park.
“Tahiti with the cast from Star Wars,” Zeke amended. “Means nothing.” He handed the cube back to Theo, who pressed two sides to flatten it, then shoved it back in his pocket.
“I know. But that and the weapons are all I have right now.”
“If it was anyone but you—”
“I know.”
Zeke picked up the rifle again, hefting it. Theo glanced at his watch. Almost nine o’clock. And this wasn’t a residential neighborhood. “Okay,” he said, knowing what Zeke wanted and might finally take as proof. “One shot. Outside in the parking lot. But I’m going to turn on my strobe so we don’t get any funny calls from any passersby or Suzanne’s kennel staff reporting a strange blue flash.”
“I’ll call Nina on the kennel intercom and tell her not to worry about the strobe.” Zeke was grinning, clearly excited about seeing the rifle in action.
The air outside was still warm, muggy. Zeke propped open the clinic’s rear door with a folding chair while Theo unlocked the SUV and hit the switch for the blue strobe behind his rearview.
“Two settings,” he said, angling the Hazer so that Zeke could see the small buttons. “Stun.” A yellow light pulsed down the side of the rifle. “And dead.” The light turned blue. “You got something you don’t need?”
“Suzanne remodeled the nurses’ station last week. There are two old metal desks behind the Dumpster. They’re heavy bastards. I’ll give you a hand.”
Theo looped the rifle’s strap over his shoulder, then pushed while Zeke pulled. Theo turned the desk so the file drawers faced Zeke and were in line with the Dumpster. If the charge kept going, the Dumpster should stop it.
Then he trotted to the far end of the parking lot, Zeke by his side. “Ready?”
“Fire at will.”
“Poor Will.” Theo shouldered the rifle and took aim. “He’s always getting shot at.” He punched the trigger button.
Blue light bored through one side of the desk with nothing more than a low hum, then flared brightly against the front of the Dumpster.
“Damn!” Zeke broke into a trot, heavy-duty flashlight in one hand, and stopped to kneel in front of the smoldering three-inch hole in the desk. “It went completely through both file pedestals. Hot damn.”
Theo shut off the strobe, then walked over to the blistered, buckled section of the Dumpster. “If Suzanne catches any shit about this, let me know. I’ll kick in some bucks for a new one.” He looked at Zeke.
His friend sighed and shut off the flashlight. “Okay, so you’ve got some really sweet weapons there. But we’ve got lasers. That doesn’t prove she’s an outer-space alien.”
“I told you.” Theo grabbed the edge of the battered desk and pulled it toward the Dumpster. “I’ve been on their ship.”
“Beamed up, yeah.” Zeke pushed, grunting. “You’ve seen The Wizard of Oz. Little girl gets smacked by a tornado and dreams all kinds of things. You say you were out in the yard when the tornado hit—”
“Zombie,” Theo corrected.
“Tornado. Microburst,” Zeke countered. Together they shoved the desk back up against the Dumpster. “The whole thing is just a hallucination.”
“Jorie’s real. This rifle’s real.”
“She could be some kind of terrorist. Or superspy.”
“Who just happened to be in my backyard at the exact moment this supposed microburst clocked me?” Theo kicked at a stone and sent it skittering across the asphalt as he walked back toward the clinic’s open door. “And who then set up an elaborate video display of fifteen-foot-tall monsters, not only in my backyard but in the park by the mall? And, oh, the ones in my house where people beam in and out like a scene from Star Trek? Why, Zeke, why?” They’d reached the doorway. Theo crossed his arms over his chest. “If these are high-tech terrorists from some third-world country—who couldn’t afford this kind of technology to begin with—why me? Why a Homicide cop in a small Florida city? Why not a police chief in Miami? Or an FDLE lieutenant who would have access to far-more-sensitive information than I do? Why go to all this trouble for me?”
“Did you run NCIC on her?”
“I didn’t think NCIC included starship pilots’ licenses.”
Zeke stepped inside. “Fingerprints.”
Theo followed and closed the door. “You’re not going to find Jorie or Tammy in our databases.”
“Outer-space aliens don’t have names like Tammy.”
“Tamlynne,” Jorie’s voice said behind him. “Her name’s Tamlynne.”
Theo turned, quickly reading her face. No tears. No sadness. Hope rose that Jorie would at least be spared this heartache.
“She’s in recovery.” Suzanne was walking toward them, surgical mask loose around her neck. “She’s doing very well.”
Theo reached for Jorie. “You got it out? She’s okay?”
She took his hand. “Yes and yes. And it’s fully disabled. The Tresh have no way of tracking it.” Finally, a small smile. “Dr. Suzanne is excellently skilled. Companion med-techs always are.”
He stood staring at her, aware of the warmth of her hand in his, aware that Zeke had come to stand beside him. He didn’t care. He gave her hand a small squeeze.
“Contact lenses,” Zeke said.
“Zeke, what are you babbling about?” Suzanne sounded annoyed.
“Her.” Zeke gestured at Jorie. “She has Theo believing she’s from some other planet. The hair, the gold eyes. Has to be contacts.”
Jorie glanced at Theo. “Nils,” she said quietly, pulling her hand out of his. “I warned you.”
“Zeke,” Suzanne said, but Zeke had flicked on his flashlight and aimed it at Jorie’s face.
“But you can always see the lenses in an oblique light.”
“Zeke.” Suzanne, again.
Jorie blinked.
“Look that way.” Zeke pointed to the wall.
Jorie shrugged and turned in profile to him.
“Zeke!” Suzanne had lost patience. Theo heard that clearly. He wondered what had happened in surgery, what Jorie had told or shown her. Something, obviously. Because Suzanne didn’t seem the least bit disturbed by Zeke’s mention of “another planet.”
The Down Home Zombie Blues Page 24