by Paul Seiple
"So far."
"Will they use the storm drain?" Q asked.
"I doubt they know it branches out to this side. Looks like the light is moving around the lake," Daria said.
"I say if it's only one, we take them out," Q said.
"Whoa there, Rambo. We're not exactly elite soldiers," Nick said.
"Q's right. We need weapons. I’ve seen what these assholes are capable of. They have weapons."
"If we're lucky and by some miracle we take him out, others will come looking for him," Nick said.
"Good. You can't have too many weapons," Daria said.
"When did you turn into Chuck Norris?" Nick asked.
"Who?" Daria asked.
"Are you serious?" Nick asked.
"That's enough," Q said, picking up a fallen tree limb. He tapped it against the ground. "Pretty solid. It should work."
The light grew closer. It followed a path around the lake.
"He won't venture off the trail. I’ll hide behind the oak. Daria, you wedge in that space in the brush. When he passes me, I'm going to hit him, hopefully hard enough he drops his gun. You jump out and grab it."
"And what about me?" Nick asked.
"You hide. If this doesn't work out, you're the only one with a line to James. Tell him what we know," Q said.
Strait scanned the path in front of him for any sign of footprints. Nothing. If they're not here, where can they be? he thought. He took a few more steps, stopped, and shined the light on the water. Stillness.
"Strait?"
The voice echoed through the night air.
"Yes, sir," Strait said.
"Have you found Warren yet?"
"No, sir, but we are very close."
"Good. I don't want him alive."
"Yes, sir,"
“And remember, the only kill shot is through the head,” Ashe said.
“Yes, sir.”
Strait clipped the radio to his belt. The crunching of leaves to his right startled him. He turned and was met by a tree limb in the side of the head. Strait stumbled but didn't fall. Daria jumped from the bushes.
"He's still up," Q said, hitting Strait in the shoulder with the limb.
Strait saw movement near his feet. He kicked, landing a size fourteen in Daria's side. She tumbled back into the bushes.
"You motherfuckers," Strait said, pointing the AK-9 at Q.
Q held his hands above his head.
"Come out of the bushes," Strait said.
Daria crawled out, clutching her side.
"Stand up," Strait said.
"I can…"
Before Daria could get the words out, Strait grabbed her forearm and jerked her to her feet.
"Watch it, she's just a kid," Q said.
"What's your name?" Strait asked, poking Q in the chest with the AK-9.
"Q Warren."
Strait laughed. "There's a huge price on your head. Today's your unlucky day."
"It's everyone's unlucky day, shithead," Daria said. "In case you didn't know, your boss is turning people into zombies."
Strait patted Daria's head. "Shut up, kid. Let the adults talk."
"Do you even know who you are fighting for?" Q asked.
"I know who signs my checks," Strait said. "And I'll get a fat bonus for shooting you between the eyes."
"What good is the money going to do? The world is ending," Daria said.
"I thought I told you to shut up." Strait slapped the back of Daria's head. Q moved toward him. In a blink, Strait flipped the rifle and hit Q in the temple with the butt. Q fell to his knees. Strait placed a boot on his shoulder and pushed him over.
"I'm going to make you watch me kill the kid. It'll be the last thought you take to hell," Strait said.
"Oh, big man. Kill the kid first. I bet you drive a Corvette, don't you?" Daria asked.
"What?" Strait asked.
"You’re obviously trying to compensate for a small…you know." Daria held her thumb and index finger about an inch apart.
"Maybe I should kill him first, and let you take that thought to hell."
"I don't care. I just met that dude a few hours ago," Daria said.
Strait laughed. "I like you, kid. Too bad we couldn't have met under different circumstances."
Q stirred. Strait placed his foot on the back of Q's neck, forcing him back to the ground.
"Hey," Daria said.
"Pretty little liar, are we? You do care about him," Strait said, grabbing the back of Q's shirt and bringing him to his knees.
"You don't have to kill her." Q's words were weak, barely above a whisper.
"No survivors," Strait said. "She's probably infected."
"That means you're infected too, dumb ass," Daria said.
Strait placed the barrel of the rifle under Q's chin and lifted his head. A streak of blood flowed from Q's temple and pooled in the crease of his collarbone.
"Do it. I told you, I don't care," Daria said.
"Back to the tough girl routine," Strait said.
Q blinked fast, trying to scare away the tiny lines blurring his vision. His sight narrowed. He zeroed in on Strait's kneecap. Daria caught wind that Q was planning one last attack.
"If you're going to kill us, get on with it. It's getting dark. I don't want to be out here at night," Daria said. “It’s dangerous out here after dark.”
Strait moved away from Q and looked over his shoulder.
"The dead come out at night," Daria said.
"How many are there? This place got the all clear after I blew the head off that girl."
"Well, your boys didn't complete the job last time. There's still a few around," Daria said.
Strait turned away from Q. Daria nodded. Q lunged into Strait's knee. There's was a loud snap followed by a scream. Daria grabbed the rifle, but Strait’s grip was strong. He jerked, throwing Daria to the ground. He flipped the rifle and aimed for Daria’s head.
"Not today, motherfucker."
Strait turned his head. Nick flew over Q and smashed a rock against the side of Strait's face, knocking the big man down. Nick hit him again and again. The sickening thud of rock crushing bone meant Strait was no longer a problem.
"Holy shit," Daria said.
"You guys were failing miserably. I had to come back and save you," Nick said. He lifted Q to his feet. "You OK?"
"I'll live."
The conversation was interrupted by static on Strait's radio.
"Strait, did you find Warren? He is being helped by Nick Preston. I need Preston alive. It’s very important. Do you understand?"
"Shit, what do they want with me?" Nick asked. "I was their worst employee. On purpose, but still."
"You guys are going to get me killed," Daria said. "Let's get underground."
Seventeen
Emily Morgan finally dozed off after hours of steaming from being held captive. The jiggling of the door knob woke her.
"I just fell asleep. What the hell is this, some sort of torture?"
"Shhh."
"Don't try to silence me. You're keeping me here against my will. You fucking kidnapped me."
"Lower your voice."
"Marshall?"
"Yeah. I'm going to get you out of here unless you don't shut up."
"How did you get in?"
"I've spent years watching you sneak into places you shouldn't be. I guess it finally paid off."
Marshall reached out for Emily's hand in the dark. He guided her to the door before he opened it and checked the hall.
"Where are the men who were guarding the door?" Emily asked.
"I didn't see anyone."
"You mean I could have left?"
"Well, the door was locked, but yeah, if you picked it, I guess you could have walked out on your own."
"Son-of-a-bitch," Emily said.
"Sometimes our mind is our biggest enemy," Marshall said, stepping into the hall. He motioned for Emily to follow. She ran behind him to the stairwell.
"Sir, th
ey are on the move."
Mitchell Ashe watched Marshall and Emily hurry down the stairs. A smile stretched across his face.
"If Strait fails to find Preston, I'm sure his longtime friend Emily Morgan will lead us to him," Ashe said.
"I thought Warren was our target," Deputy Director of the FBI Alan Dawson said.
"Alan, my friend." Ashe extended his hand to shake. "Nice to see you again. Warren is with Nick Preston, so we will get them both. I need Preston alive."
“You could have told me about the plan to kidnap the reporter,” Dawson said.
Ashe smiled. “If I told you, your reaction wouldn’t have been genuine. I’m sure you were just as shocked as everyone else.”
“I’m part of this program, Mitch. “Don’t keep secrets from me,” Dawson said.
“I apologize, Alan. To bring you in the loop, plans have shifted a bit. Bringing Nick Preston in is the main objective,” Ashe said.
"Do you think he's been in contact with his brother?" Dawson asked.
"If Jones is alive, it's very likely. I don't care about Jones. He was a thorn in our side from the start. I told Hendricks not to bring him into this. Nick Preston is the closest thing we have to research and development now. Originally, I didn’t care about Q Warren, but recently, several of our brightest doctors have taken ill. So I guess I’ll have to put up with Warren too. Hendricks did one thing right. He proved the Judas Kiss works at eradicating the virus, but I don't want to kill it off. I want to control it."
"How so?" Dawson asked.
"In due time, my friend. I take it there was a smooth transition from President McClain to President Stephens," Ashe said.
"Well, there were some unforeseen hiccups. Turner's dead. Chuck O'Connell is dead."
"And McClain?" Mitchell asked.
"Dead, but not before taking a chunk out of Turner. McClain was a carrier."
"Well, at least the plan is moving forward. You're in charge now?"
"For the moment," Dawson said.
"I always thought you were better suited for this than Turner. He wasn't level-headed. He proved that by becoming a meal for McClain."
"It's definitely the strangest way I've ever earned a promotion. Stephens is onboard. We've scheduled a presser for 8am to break the news of McClain's death. O’Connell snapping and killing McClain is under investigation." Dawson smiled.
"Sir, the subjects have entered the van and turned onto Stewart."
"And the tracking system?" Ashe asked.
The guard swiped across the screen of a smart phone. After few beeps, a red line moved over a map.
"Working like a charm," the guard said.
"Follow them, but not too close. Stay within a mile."
"Yes, sir?"
"If you find Preston, he isn't going to want to work with us," Dawson said.
"I'll leave him no choice. Preston has a kind heart. He won't let anything happen to his old friend Emily Morgan."
"Don't you think it's strange? They just let me walk out of there," Emily said.
Marshall flashed a glance in the rearview mirror. The only car behind the van was a beat-up sedan with a pizza delivery sign affixed to the roof. The kid behind the wheel was bobbing his head to loud, distorted metal music. Marshall was confident they weren't being followed.
"I guess it is strange. Maybe we should get out of town." Marshall glanced in the mirror again. The sedan turned right. No one was behind the van.
"I need clothes first. And a Big Mac," Emily said, reaching toward the dash for Marshall's phone. "What's your passcode?"
"Where's your phone?" Marshall asked.
"Those bastards took it. Are you trying to hide something from me?"
"Don't be that girlfriend. It's 698512."
"What the hell kind of code is that?"
"It's tough to crack, just in case you turn out to be that girlfriend."
"Asshole." Emily typed the code. A green bubble popped onto the screen.
Nick Preston
Missed Call
"Why is Nick calling you?" Emily asked.
"I didn't know he did."
"He didn't leave a message. I'll call him back," Emily said.
Eighteen
Q stared into the black surrounding him. The thought of Carolyn being behind the Judas was worse than thinking she died in a plane crash. If she was alive, he could never look at her the same way again. Q would be haunted by the ghost of the person he thought Carolyn was. It didn't make sense. She was an environmentalist. He always jokingly called her "hippie." Carolyn would never do anything to harm the planet. She lectured Q for at least thirty minutes whenever he put something in the trash that could be recycled. This wasn't her, but it was. Q had seen it with his own eyes. Carolyn introduced H1N1 to the virus. She was the reason the virus evolved. The reason it became airborne. The reason it was destroying the world.
A loud snore startled Q, shaking him from his thoughts. At least Nick can sleep, he thought.
"Dude, I was just about asleep. Cut it out," Daria said.
Her words were met with another snore.
"Don't waste your breath. He's not going to stop," Q said.
"Great."
"I thought it would smell worse down here," Q said.
"You mean, like rotting zombies?" Daria asked.
"Or parasite-infected dirty water," Q said.
"It was bad for a week or so. It hasn't rained much.”
"That's good. I forgot to pack Febreze," Q said.
"Way to prepare for a vacation to the land of the dead, doc."
"I'm really sorry about your sister," Q said.
"Yeah, me too. She was a royal bitch at times, but I miss her. I miss that I'll never get to call her a bitch again."
Q laughed.
"I'm sorry your girlfriend turned out to be the bitch who ends the world," Daria said.
"Ouch," Q said.
"Hey, I'm just keeping it real. No Dr. Phil shit here," Daria.
"Deviated septum," Q said.
"What?"
"That's why he's snoring," Q said.
"Nice deflection," Daria said.
"For so long, I held on to hope that she was still alive," Q said.
"Maybe she still is," Daria said.
"No. The Carolyn I thought I knew is dead."
A ringing phone echoed through the drain.
"Shit. That scared the hell out of me," Daria said.
The chirping tone didn't faze Nick.
"Get his phone," Q said.
Daria reached into Nick's jacket pocket. He sucked in a deep breath and grabbed her wrist before lurching forward.
"Whoa. Chill out. Your phone's ringing," Daria said.
It took Nick's eyes a moment to adjust to light from the phone screen piercing the dark. He blinked. Silence. When his focus came back, a green bubble was on the screen.
Marshall Kent
Missed Call
"James?" Q said.
"No. Marshall Kent. He's Emily's boyfriend. I called him when I couldn't get her."
Nick unlocked his phone to call Marshall back. It barely rang before Emily answered. Nick put the call on speaker.
"Nick, do you know what the hell is going on?" Emily asked.
"I hoped you would since you were kidnapped by the government on live TV," Nick said.
"About that, yeah, it's not the government. It was some dick named Mitchell."
"Mitchell Ashe?" Q asked.
"Who's that?" Emily asked.
"He invests in pharmaceutical companies," Q said.
"No. Who are you?" Emily asked.
"Q Warren."
"Oh. They're looking for you too," Emily said.
"And here I thought the bullets were a welcoming party," Q said.
"They're looking for me too," Nick said.
"Why you?" Emily asked.
"Gee, I don't know. Maybe it's my charming personality," Nick said.
"That's why they let us leave," Marshall said.
&
nbsp; "Oh, hey, Marshall," Nick said.
"They wanted you to escape. They're hoping you lead them to Nick," Marshall said.
"Those bastards," Emily said.
"They're tracking the van," Marshall said. "It could be bugged."
"Has your phone left your sight?" Nick asked.
"No," Marshall said.
After a few seconds of silence, a text message popped up on Marshall's phone.
Don't say anything. Just accept the invite.
A black box appeared.
You've been invited to join Nick's Not So Common Sense. To accept press YES and your download will begin.
Emily pressed YES. A "thumbs up" emoji with stick legs and black Chuck Taylors raced from the left side of the screen to the right. A chatbox appeared.
You're going to have to ditch your vehicle. Go to Idlewild. Park the van in the shopping center parking lot next to the greenway. Cross the softball field. There's a '77 Pinto parked in front of the house with the For Sale sign. Keys are under the driver's side front fender. It's not much to look at, but it runs. I just changed the oil.
Emily showed the phone to Marshall without speaking. He nodded. Another chatbox appeared.
Drive to Sample Road in Huntersville. There's a plot of land with a Willow Farm sign. Take the dirt road to the small barn. We will meet there.
Emily typed back.
Is it safe? These assholes have done everything short of implanting a tracker in me.
She waited for a reply.
It's safe. But don’t use your phone after you ditch the van. We'll be there in the morning.
Emily started to type. The chatbox grayed out.
"That's rude, Nick," Emily said.
"OK, we're going to meet them in Huntersville in the morning," Nick said.
"We can't risk going back to the car," Q said.
"Chris's jeep isn't too far from here," Daria said.
"Chris?" Q asked.
"My sister's boyfriend. We rode up in his jeep. It's just through the woods. Those assholes never crossed the lake until today. It still should be there."
"Keys?" Nick asked.
Daria dug into her jeans' pocket for a key. She dangled it on her index finger.
"Why didn't you leave?" Q asked.
"I told you. I thought it was safer here. And…I don't really know how to drive a stick," Daria said.