by JE Gurley
“So we’re watching the wrong person.”
Mace shrugged. “Could be. Mendoza helps out willingly enough, but who knows where he goes during his free time.”
“I think I jumped back into politics at the wrong time.”
Mace smiled. “You were never out of it. You just thought that you were. To most of these people, you’re a hero, whether they acknowledge it or not. They’ll listen to you.”
A frown crossed Jeb’s troubled face. “Yeah, that’s what I’m afraid of.”
Mace felt sympathy for Jeb’s dilemma. He reached out and patted him on the shoulder. “I’ll talk to Renda about young Billy Idol.”
Jeb nodded. “Thanks. I’ll get with Mikal and start asking a few questions so that we at least look like we’re doing something constructive.”
As Jeb walked away, his shoulders slumped and his pace slower than normal, Mace swore quietly to himself. “He’s a damn Jingo tower. If anyone pulls one more block out of the stack, he’s going to come crashing down.”
Jeb had barely disappeared from sight when one of the men accompanying Sikes to his detention rushed down the corridor out of breath with excitement. He took a deep breath and said, “Sikes is gone. He knocked Oliver down and pushed past me before I could stop him.”
“That tears it,” Mace growled. “That idiot!” Now everyone would assume he was guilty. Sikes didn’t stand a chance. “Is he armed?” The man shook his head. Thank God for small favors, Mace thought. He looked down the corridor in the direction Jeb had disappeared. “Tell Jeb. Round up four men with weapons and meet me at the entrance. We’ve got to find that son of a bitch before he does something stupid.”
The man nodded and took out after Jeb.
Mace leaned his back against the wall. “Disaster comes in buckets and good news in a thimble,” he whispered.
* * * *
Elliot escorted Harris, Billy Idol and Mendoza to the lab for the blood tests. The young kid seemed unconcerned, but both Harris and Mendoza looked frightened. Elliot wondered what could cause such a reaction. They were too old to be afraid of needles. He might expect them to be angry or even resentful, but fear. That was bewildering. When they reached the lab, Billy Idol went first. He offered up his arm with no protest, wincing just a little as the needle pierced his flesh. He watched in fascination as the blood filled the tube. When Kevin Houseman, who had drawn the blood, released the rubber tourniquet, Billy jumped up and raced for the door eager to be out of the lab. After Elliot carefully noted Harris’s eyes following Billy the entire time, he wondered that maybe it wasn’t the lab Billy was eager to be free of.
“Who’s next?” Houseman asked.
“My turn,” Harris snapped. “Let’s get it over with.”
As Houseman tightened the tourniquet around Harris’s biceps, Harris asked, “How long will the tests take?”
“We’ll wait and run all the samples together. By tomorrow we’ll have an idea if we’re dealing with a reaction form an individual.”
“Well, let me know how my iron’s doing. I’ve been feeling run down lately.”
It took Houseman a few seconds to realize that Harris was joking.
“Oh, right,” he replied with a chuckle.
Mendoza said nothing, but Elliot noted several gang tattoos on his biceps. With all three men phlebotomized, Elliot sought out Erin. He found her with Susan McNeil and Ang Lee poring over a computer graph.
“Harris and his friends have donated blood samples,” he said. “Collier is sending over another bunch.”
Erin was still visibly shaken by the ordeal in the meeting. Her voice was very subdued as she spoke. “They became a mob so quickly. I... I didn’t think people could turn vicious like that.”
Elliot wondered if she had shut the carnage of Atlanta out of her mind. “Those who need Blue Juice were frightened, and those that don’t are now frightened of their neighbors. Harris didn’t help things by stirring up the crowd. How the hell did he find out about the Blue Juice?”
“Not from me,” Ang volunteered. “I don’t like him.”
Elliot seconded Ang’s opinion of Harris.
“Don’t look at me,” Susan offered. “I never discuss what we’re doing here with anyone.”
Erin was puzzled. “He’s never been out here as far as I know. I’ll check with the others.”
Samuels dismissed Harris for the moment to concentrate on the only thing he could offer the lab group – record keeping. “He’ll be gone in another day. Good riddance! I’ll set up a file on everyone to keep track of our results.” He sat down at his computer terminal and logged in. As he was working, a thought crossed his mind. He looked up from his screen and asked Erin. “Are the computers here connected to the computers in the dome?”
She glanced at him over the rim of her glasses. “I suppose so. This was a planning center. It would make sense. Why?”
Elliot swore. “Damn! I think I know how Harris found out.”
“How,” Erin asked.
“From me. My password is pretty simple. I wasn’t expecting a hacker. If Harris has any computer skills at all, he could slip into the system and find out everything he needs to know.”
“Why?”
Elliot mulled it over but could come up with no answer. “I don’t know – yet. He asked when we would have the results. Why would he care?” He pushed away from his desk and stood. “I want you to run the samples from Harris, Mendoza and Idol now.” He was glad that Erin didn’t protest or ask him why. He didn’t have an answer for her, just a hunch, and if he was right, they were all in trouble.
* * * *
Billy Idol sat on the edge of his bunk wishing he had stayed in New Mexico. Sure, he had been living hand to mouth, hiding from zombies, and scared half to death all the time, but at least he had been free. Since joining Nick Harris and Juan Mendoza, he had been sick to his stomach, as if he had sold his soul to the devil. Maybe he had.
He had thought he was one of the lucky ones, immune from the zombie plague. All he had to do was to stay alive until things returned to normal, but Nick convinced him things were never going to change. The old world was gone forever. On top of that, he discovered that he wasn’t immune, just lucky. In return for periodic shots of Blue Juice, he had helped Nick and Juan do some awful things, things for which his dead mother’s ghost would surely haunt him. His hands trembled as he thought about his mother. He had nursed her for six days before she died. He had been in the kitchen making a sandwich when she lumbered in, her once green eyes red and lifeless. When they came to rest on him, he saw no love, no memory of him, only a sick hunger. By instinct, he had plunged the mayonnaise-covered butcher knife hilt deep in her chest, but she had kept on coming, trying to bite him. Confused and frightened, he had finally shoved her away long enough to grab the first thing he found, the microwave, and slam it into her head until her skull was nothing but a bloody mess.
He hardly remembered the empty months that followed when he was still Cy Adler – leaving the house when food ran out, hiding in cars and basements from marauding zombies. He quickly realized that the world had changed and that he could be anyone he wanted. His favorite musician was Billy Idol. Why not become him? He glanced at the white scar on his wrist, rubbing it briefly, trying to soothe an invisible itch that reminded him of what he almost done in the depths of his dark depression. Nick had found him bleeding from a cut too shallow to be quickly fatal and had taken him under his wing. He owed Nick. He just didn’t know when his debt would be paid in full.
Nick had whispered to him at the meeting to be ready to move at a moment’s notice. He didn’t want to go. He liked the Biosphere2 people, but Nick had reminded him that once they learned that he was a Hunter things would change. They would probably kill him. Billy had no doubt that Juan had killed the Heath woman on Nick’s orders; he just didn’t know why. He also had no doubt that Nick would have no qualms about killing him too. He yanked the plastic bandage from his arm, grimacing as he pulled a few hairs
with it. He hated needles, but he had become used to them during the last few months. That was how he received his doses of Blue Juice.
The knock at the door startled him. He glanced toward the door expecting to see Nick or Juan. He was surprised to see Renda Kilmer standing there. He sat up straighter and sniffed back a tear that threatened to roll down his cheek.
“Hello, Billy,” she said.
Billy nodded.
“We need to talk.”
“I can’t,” Billy answered. He badly needed someone he could confide in, but if Nick found out... “I can’t.”
“Because of Nick?”
He nodded again.
“We can protect you from him.”
Billy’s heart wrenched at her naiveté. They didn’t understand the danger they faced. “Nick’s not the problem.”
Renda stared at him. “What do you mean?”
He had already said too much, but the words came spilling out like the tears he had so longed imprisoned inside him. “Don’t you get it? We’re Hunters. I’m a Hunter. We came here to spy on you.”
Renda’s mouth worked silently as his words sank in. “Hunters?” she asked, as if she didn’t believe him, as if he would lie about something like that.
“He’s used the radio to report where you are. They’ll be coming for you soon.”
Renda collapsed on the bed beside him, her face ashen. Her hand sought his shoulder and grasped it tightly. “When are they coming?”
“I don’t know – a couple of days, maybe sooner.”
“I have to tell the others.”
“No!” he moaned, holding her back as she tried to rise from the bed. “If Nick finds out, he’ll kill me.”
Renda stared at him until he turned away, ashamed. “Is your life worth more than all ours?”
He had been asking himself the same question for two days. “I thought it was. I didn’t know you people. Now... I don’t know what to do.”
“Come with me and talk to Mace.”
Billy hesitated, but then nodded. He knew Mace. If anyone could handle Nick it was Mace, but could he handle Nick and Juan both? The people in Biosphere2 carried weapons and knew how to shoot, but Nick and Juan were ruthless, would not hesitate to kill. They were hardened killers.
Renda escorted him through the corridors of Biosphere2. He kept his head bowed to avoid looking into the eyes of anyone they met, praying that he did not encounter Nick. The air of the dome was abuzz with conversation. Most of it centered on the murder and the news about the Blue Juice. He tried not to pay attention, but snatches sifted through his mental filter –
“We should lock ourselves in.”
“I knew they were up to no good. I think they’re lying to us.” He assumed this was in reference to the medical people who made the Blue Juice for them.
“We should leave.”
Billy couldn’t blame them for their fear. He had been afraid for so long that it seemed like an integral part of his life. Right now, their fear was vague and undefined. When trouble came, they would be overwhelmed, easy pickings for the Hunters.
Mace glanced at him from the corner of his eye as he and Renda entered the small office used to store weapons. Four rifles lay on the desk. He held an AK47 with a well-worn stock in his arms, an unlit hand rolled cigarette dangling from his lips, seeming to defy gravity. Something in Renda’s stance caused him to pause and take a second, longer look, or maybe he recognized the combination of fear and shame on Billy’s face.
“Billy has something to tell you,” Renda announced.
Mace raised an eyebrow and stared at Billy. Billy winced under the intense scrutiny, wondering if he had made a mistake.
“Go on,” Mace urged.
Billy eyed the AK47, took a deep breath, and began, “I’m a Hunter.”
Mace’s eyes widened. His lips moved with a silent curse and the unlit cigarette dropped to the floor. He continued to stare, but did not speak, waiting on Billy to explain.
“Nick and Juan found me right after I tried to kill myself. I didn’t want to be the last person living. He patched me up and told me I wasn’t immune, which meant I could turn into one of... one of those creatures. He gave me a shot of Blue Juice and told me that if I wanted more, I had to help him.” Billy’s voice quavered but did not break. “That was a couple of months ago. He heard about this place from someone who came here but didn’t stay. We,” Billy cleared his throat. “We came to check you out.” He nodded to the radio. “Nick used your radio to call the Major. He’ll send someone soon to bring you in.”
Billy noticed Mace’s sharp intake of breath at the mention of the Major. Billy had never met the Major, but he had met the Gray Man, and if the Gray Man was afraid of the Major, then he was, too. He expected Mace to explode. Instead, his voice remained quiet and steady.
“Why didn’t you tell us this earlier?”
Billy glanced at Renda for support. She smiled. “I was afraid.” In a rush, he said, “I like it here. I don’t want anything to happen to you. You should run.”
Mace shook his head. “It’s too late for that. Without Blue Juice, half of the people here would die. Where’s Harris now?”
“I don’t know. He told me to be ready to leave at a moment’s notice.”
“Why did you change your mind?”
Again, Billy looked at Renda for support. “She was nice to me. I don’t want to see her hurt.”
Mace smiled and some of the tension left Billy’s body.
“I won’t let anyone hurt her.” To Billy’s surprise, Mace removed his pistol from his holster and handed it to him. “Will you help me protect her?”
Billy took the pistol. “Sure.”
“Good. You stay with her.” To Renda, he said, “Sikes has run.”
“Then he’s guilty?”
Billy withered under Mace’s gaze. “I don’t think so, but he’s scared and that makes him dangerous.” He removed the clip from the AK47, checked it and slammed it back in.
“Where are you going?” Renda demanded.
Mace’s eyes went suddenly deadly cold, and Billy was glad the look of hatred burning on Mace’s face wasn't aimed at him. “I’m going to find Harris.”
Renda gently squeezed Billy’s shoulder as Mace rushed from the room. Billy shoved the pistol inside his belt hoping he didn’t have to use it against Nick. Nick was wrong, but he still owed him.
17
Things did not go as Vince had hoped. Three people had delivered their food. One was a young girl, bearing a large bucket of water. While the armed one stood outside the door watching, she silently cleaned and dressed Vince’s wounds. Her innocence prevented him from using her as a shield to attack the armed man. They would have to bide their time.
He slept in fits, waking up, drenched in sweat, with visions of Dan Mateo’s sacrifice to allow him to get away from the zombies at the garage. They ate and drank until the food was gone and then they rested. Hours passed until noises outside the door caught his attention. This time, he would have to act, regardless of the consequences. When the door opened, instead of New Apostle acolytes bringing their meal, the Gray Man stood there, his pistol out and pointed through the open doorway. He smiled at Vince, who stood just inside the door, drawing the scar dominating his cheek into a furrow.
“Sergeant, I have too much respect for your abilities to allow you to jump me.” He moved the barrel of the pistol slightly until it pointed at Amanda. Vince heard her indrawn breath. “If you move, I’ll shoot her.”
Vince sighed, backed away from the door, and sat down, keeping the table between him and the door. The Gray Man stepped inside the room and waved two acolytes inside with a tray of food and a jug of water. Dennis rushed to the water, grabbed a glass, poured it full, and downed it in one long gulp. He looked at the others sheepishly.
“I was thirsty,” he said and backed away from the table, keeping a wary eye on the Gray Man.
The two acolytes left, but to Vince’s surprise, the Gray Man rem
ained. He closed the door behind him. While he did have the only weapon in the room, facing five people with nothing to lose took a certain amount of balls.
“I do not enjoy what I do, Sergeant, but each of us makes a choice and we must live with the consequences. If not, there can be no certainty. Without certainty, the world spins endlessly through space and goes nowhere.”
Vince looked over the tray of freshly baked bread and a pot of vegetable stew. He broke off a chunk of bread and chewed it gingerly because of his sore jaw. “So you chose to herd people to their deaths like cattle just to add a few more measly months to your miserable life,” Vince shot at him.
The Gray Man did not acknowledge the insult by any change of expression. “Amid so much death and destruction, a few more deaths mean nothing.” He waved the pistol at the others in the room. “Their blood can help produce a real vaccine, a permanent vaccine. Is that not worth the sacrifice?”
“Ask them,” Vince snorted derisively.
The Gray Man tilted his head slightly and nodded. “I concede your point. Nevertheless, I offer you and your companions a way out.”
Vince’s heart stilled for a moment. A trap? “A way out? Why?”
“The Major has learned of your friends’ presence at Biosphere2. He very badly wants his munies back. Moreover, he wants the CDC team back. He, as do I, feels they are the most qualified to produce a permanent vaccine.”
Vince tried not to let the Gray Man see his body stiffen at the mention of Biosphere2. How did they know? “How do I, do we,” he added to include the others in the room, “fit into this?”
“The Major’s spy has informed him that Biosphere2 is heavily armed.” He smiled at Vince. “I’m sure that you had something to do with that. It is likely his…ah…heavy-handed methods would produce more casualties than prisoners. In spite of my profession, I want a cure, for myself as well as everyone else. I’ve seen these zoms in action. I know what they are capable of. They are much more than animals. They are a new species. Unchecked, they will rule the earth. In his zeal for revenge, I’m afraid the Major has forgotten who the true enemy is.”