I slip to my knees. They won’t carry me any longer. Leaning back against the seat feels so good. I’m tempted to just lie down and sleep.
Stephen watches me with amusement in his eyes. I couldn’t care less. I just want to sleep.
“We should be just about under the wall by now. Just about to the EM barrier. It won’t hurt for much longer. I promise.”
“Why?” I gasp.
“We don’t want our experiments getting out and infecting the rest of New York, now do we? Not yet, anyway.”
His laughter peals against my eardrums, pounds off the walls of my skull. He reaches into the medical bag and draws out a syringe filled with a shiny green substance.
“What are you going to do with that?” I say, my words slurring. They’re barely coherent, even to my own ears.
“Not everyone is who you think they are,” he says. “Not your friends. Not your family. Not even me.” He laughs and pushes me aside with his foot. He sneers like I’m nothing but dirty laundry. It doesn’t take him much effort to get past me.
“Take me, for example,” his voice says.
I watch his lips, fascinated by the way they don’t seem to sync with his words.
“You undoubtedly thought I was some weak-kneed intern or something. I’m the prep nurse, not Miss Novak. I’m the one who developed the alpha protocol. And once I get you back, I’ll be giving the injections to all of you.”
I slip to the floor once more and begin to melt into it. I just want so badly to sleep. I close my eyes, and darkness descends.
Suddenly, there’s a snap inside my head and a white hot flash of pain. I scream in agony while Stephen laughs.
Then it’s gone, blissfully gone. The pain flees from my head so completely that I’m left breathless. It leaves in its place an emptiness so immense that all I can do is plunge headlong into it.
Chapter 2
“Citizens are advised to remain indoors,” the recording blares from the government-required speaker on our wall. The same message for the past three hours, over and over again. “This is not a drill. Do not go outside. Do not answer your door unless you are instructed to do so by the military.”
Eric pulls me away from the window, snapping at me that I’m going to get us killed standing there like that.
“I thought the outbreak was in Washington?” I say. “That’s hundreds of miles away.”
“How do you know that? I didn’t see anything on Media.”
There’s been nothing about the outbreak on the official Media Stream, no announcements, no coverage. But it’s not hard to find the black streams. That’s where the real information can be found, unadulterated by Government.
“God,” I cry, rubbing my arm. “Why do you have to be so paranoid all the time?”
“Jessie, be quiet!”
“You be quiet, Mister Scaredy Cat-I’m-afraid-of-a-zombie-wombie.”
He holds his head in his hands and rocks, moaning like one of them.
“Is it because of Dad you’re such a freak?”
“You shut up about Dad!” he screams, his face bright red.
“Eric,” Mom says, “please. She’s only nine. She’s just a kid. She’s scared.”
“I’m not scared, Mom.”
“You should be,” Eric says. “Now get away from the window.”
“How long do we have to stay inside?”
“As long as the police say we have to, honey,” Mom says. She reaches for her glass. Condensation still drips down the outside, though the ice is long gone. She lifts it to her lips and grimaces. She doesn’t like the taste, and yet she still takes another drink. Sober for three months—the longest stretch yet. But rumors of a new outbreak have driven her back to the bottle.
“When is Grandpa coming home?” I ask. “Won’t he be arrested for being outside?”
“Grandpa is safe. Don’t worry. He’s helping the police. He knows what to do.”
“Damn well better know,” Eric mutters. “This is all his fault.”
“Watch your language, young man.”
“I’m twenty, Mom. I’m not a kid anymore.”
She gets up and leaves the room. We watch her slip away like a ghost through the walls.
“You shouldn’t say it’s Grandpa’s fault,” I tell Eric.
“And you shouldn’t always believe what you hear.”
“He’s family.”
“So was Dad.”
Chapter 3
The flash quickly fades, and along with it, the memory of the scare eight years ago.
Actually, fade isn’t the right word. The pain and memory don’t slip away like sunlight leaking from the day. Everything just blinks right off, like a switch being flipped. Just like that, my head is clear and I’m slammed back into the tram.
I blink a couple times. Above my head, upside down from my perspective, Stephen strolls toward the engineer’s compartment. He’s going to stop the tram.
No. He’s not. He pauses in front of Kelly, who’s still on his seat, his head lolling to one side. Stephen raises his hands and I see that he’s holding a syringe. He brings up to his eyes, taps it, removes the needle cap. He smiles as he bends down and reaches for Kelly’s arm. Panic flairs up inside of me.
“No!” I scream. I lunge to my feet, amazed that my body actually responds as well as it does. The lightheadedness is completely gone. My head still feels strange, but it’s clear, my thoughts nimble, not heavy like before. Stephen’s head jerks around, surprise on his face. “Kelly!” I shout.
He jerks upright in his seat, his eyes flicking from me to Stephen to the syringe. He doesn’t hesitate. He kicks out and his foot catches Stephen’s wrist. The syringe flips through the air, then clatters to the floor. It comes to rest beneath a seat. Stephen turns and punches Kelly in the face, then dives for the syringe.
“Stop him!” I shout, stumbling against the rail as the car sways around a slight turn in the track. “Don’t let him get that syringe!”
Kelly jumps up, but Stephen’s too fast and too far ahead of him. He drops to his knees and reaches for the syringe as Kelly grabs his ankle to pull him away.
The car jerks again, throwing me to the floor. I land next to Tanya, who’s still writhing and making grunting sounds. Bloody spittle froths from her lips. I hope it’s nothing worse than a bit tongue. I pray it’s not transmissible.
Jake’s face rocks, his cheek smearing his vomit. He moans unconsciously. Ash is completely out. Her head jitters against the seat like a ragdoll’s, her skin deathly pale.
Stop this thing! Something’s wrong! Go back!
I propel myself forward, pushing past Jake’s sprawled legs. The train judders and rolls.
Kelly and Stephen are tangled up between a pair of seats. Stephen’s elbow rises and rockets down. I hear an impact and the explosion of Kelly’s breath leaving his lungs. His arm reaches up and he gets a hand on Stephen’s face and tries to push him off.
I hurry past them. I can’t help Kelly. Not yet. First, I need to stop the tram. I need to turn it around. I need to head us back to Long Island before we all die.
Reggie’s body blocks the door. He’s lying on his stomach and his head is twisted around in an unnatural position. His face is a mask of agony. His hand is extended, as if he was trying onto grab something as he fell. Had he seen something on the monitor? The door bumps against his arm.
I try not to step on him as I squeeze past, but he’s so big that I slip and fall on top.
Kelly shouts. I hear a loud smack, followed by a grunt.
“Stop!” he bellows. “No!”
There’s a cry, and then Stephen lets out an exultant shout.
I pull myself back to my feet and lean over and push up on the control lever, but it won’t budge. It’s locked into position.
Behind me is the emergency brake, a red handle inside a black recess and outlined with black and yellow stripes. Did Reggie realize something was wrong? Did he try to pull it? He must’ve lost consciousness before he coul
d.
I reach inside and wrap my fingers around the handle.
“Oh, no you don’t!”
The lever slips from my grip as Stephen yanks me backwards. The tram keeps moving.
Pain flares in my hip as it slams into the control panel. The hand on my collar raises me up and propels me forward again. The control lever jabs painfully into my stomach, sending a burst of fire through me, burning into my chest and down my leg.
“I can’t let you do that,” Stephen pants into my ear.
“Kelly!”
“Your boyfriend’s toast, sweetie!”
He pulls me up again, leaning his body into mine to trap me against the console. He pushes down, planting an elbow on my back. My hands are beneath me. I have no leverage. I can’t move.
Out of the corner of my eye I see the syringe, a pearly-white opalescent liquid inside. I could’ve sworn it was green before, but that was when my vision was seriously messed up.
“What do you think?” he says, breathing into my ear. He holds the needle right in front of my eye. “Maybe I should stick this in your ear. The pain alone will drive you crazy. I told them this was going to happen. I warned them right after I saw that your neurosynthetic synapses were beginning to disconnect. I knew you were on the verge of rejecting. But, hey, that’s okay. It’s not the end of the world. For you, maybe, it is, but not for me. I’ve still got this. I can go home.”
The syringe slips behind me and out of view.
I don’t know what comes over me then—panic, maybe, or terror—but all those years of hapkido training finally kick in. I raise my right foot off the ground and kick back. My heel connects with Stephen’s shin. He howls, just as a sharp pain flares in the side of my neck. It burns for a moment like hot oil dripping down my back, then it’s gone, leaving only a dull pain.
I pull my arms out from under me and pinwheel, spinning until I’ve got Stephen’s arms wrapped in mine. He tries to pull back, which is exactly what I’m expecting, so I push. He bounces off the back wall of the compartment, his head slamming against it and rocking forward. He crumples as my own feet slip out from under me.
But he’s still conscious, still upright. He manages to free one of his arms. I yank, drawing my knee up at the same time that he lunges into me. I catch him just below the ribcage, knocking the breath from his lungs.
He’s much stronger than I had expected. He gasps and somehow spins me around again, grabbing a handful of my loose overalls. He shoves me up against the console again and lands a fist on the back of my head. My forehead ricochets off the panel. White light and pain blinds me for a moment.
I kick out again, landing my heel just above his knee. I hear a crack and his grip loosens as he stumbles back, screaming. He crumples to the floor, rolling off Reggie’s body and hitting his head in the door frame. His hands go to his injured leg. Out of the corner of my eye, I see the syringe roll into the corner.
It’s empty.
“You bastard!”
I spin around and locate the emergency brake and yank it out. The tram lurches, slamming me face first into the wall, bending my wrist back until it feels like it’s going to snap. The wheels squeal as they fight the tram’s momentum.
I push myself away and spin around. I find the control lever and push to get the tram to move the other way. I just hope it’s not too late to save the others.
But the lever doesn’t move.
Chapter 4
“What did you inject into me?” I scream. I reach up to my neck with my good hand and feel around for the puncture wound. The tips of my fingers are smeared with blood.
Stephen just stares at me, not answering. Kelly wrenches the asshole’s arms even higher up his back until he winces in pain and grunts in pain, but he doesn’t cry out.
“You’re going to tell me what the fuck that was,” I say, leaning in close to him. “Was it that alpha crap? Is it some kind of virus? Is it like the Zulu virus?” I grab his shirt and shake him. “Am I infected?”
He grunts. “It’s too late. You can’t do anything about it now. Neither of you. Knowing won’t stop it. The infection is already spreading. It’s incurable. And when it’s finished, we’ll all be dead.” He grins. “Or should I say, Undead.”
I curse and spit at him.
Kelly finishes binding him, using the IV tubing I had used to cinch up the loose coveralls. Stephen doesn’t even try to struggle. He just sits there with this stupid, knowing smirk on his face, taunting Kelly and me. I’m surprised at how much restraint Kelly shows. If it was me and I had a knife, I’d gut him right here and let him bleed out onto the floor.
When Kelly’s finished and convinced Stephen’s not going to be any more trouble, he comes back to me. He draws me close to him and for a moment I think he’s going to kiss me. I pull back in anger, but he resists, leaning in with a look of concern on his face. He gently pushes my head to the side and moves my hair so he can look at my neck.
“Are you sure he injected you?” he asks. “I don’t see a hole here, just the scrapes you had before. Old blood. Mostly. It’s stopped bleeding, though. I don’t see anything new.”
I reach up again, wincing because this time it’s my injured hand, and I gently run my fingertips over my skin. I can feel myself shaking. Shock is beginning to set in. I need to know before it gets any worse.
And yet I don’t want to know.
“I felt it go in, Kel.” I nod at the empty syringe on the floor. Neither of us wants to pick it up. It’s radioactive. It’s deadly. Contaminated. Viral. Whatever it held is now inside of me.
“Yeah, but he—”
“I know what I felt. And I know what I saw.”
“Maybe it’s not what you think.”
“Yeah, you’re right, Kel, “ I snap. “Maybe it’s just a vitamin B shot.”
I stare at him. He tries to hold my gaze, but can’t. He can’t mask the look in his eyes, the fear. The knowing. I’m a dead girl. He knows it. A curtain rises over his face, covers his eyes. Concern. Suspicion. Already he’s giving up on me, writing me off.
“Kelly… please.”
“Hold still,” he tells me, irritation creeping into his voice.
I brush his hands aside. “Forget it. It doesn’t matter. We need to think about the others. We need to get the stupid tram moving again before the rest of the group dies.”
I don’t even know if they’ll recover.
I’m on the verge of crumbling. I need to move. I need to keep moving or else I’ll fall down and never get back up again.
Reluctantly, Kelly turns away from me and studies the control panel.
“I tried moving the lever back up,” I say. “That’s supposed to tell the tram to go back in the direction we’d just come, but I can’t.”
Kelly tries a couple switches and dials. He only manages to flip off the blinking emergency lights, which is a relief, and get the main lights back on.
“Button,” he says, showing me the side of the lever. He pushes it and the lever moves, but the trams doesn’t.
“Shit,” he says.
I turn away to go check on the others, leaving Kelly to figure out how to get the tram moving again. I want to make sure everyone’s still breathing.
Stephen’s eyes follow me as I slip past him in the passenger compartment and make my way toward the others in the back. I have to fight my desire to plant a front kick straight into his face. Only my training and the memory of Nurse Mabel keep me from doing it.
“You can leave, you know,” he tells me, taunting. “Think about it. No implant anymore. No one to control you, now or ever. The failsafe won’t work on you. Just power this thing up again and drive yourself right on out of here. You and your boyfriend. He can go, too.”
I don’t know why my body has rejected the new implant. Apparently I’m unique. All the others’ implants seem to be functioning.
“I’d never leave my friends.”
“They’ll only hold you back, Miss Daniels.”
�
�Shut up. Just shut the fuck up.”
I reach Reggie first, sprawled out where Kelly dragged him after tying Stephen up. There’s a knot forming on his forehead, and it’s already bruising. He breathes in agonizing wheezes.
Jake appears to be worse off. His body is twitching, like he’s being electrocuted. His tongue protrudes from his mouth and he’s making a wet, gagging sound. I turn him onto his side to keep him from choking. It’s about the only thing I know about seizures and such. That, and to move the person away from furniture so they won’t hurt themselves. Not much I can do about that in here where space is tight. At least he’s still breathing.
Ash is on the floor now, having slipped off her seat when the tram stopped. I check to see that she’s breathing too, rolling her onto her side like I did with Jake. Then I turn to Tanya. She’d slid all the way back against the door separating the second and third compartments.
Finally, there’s Micah, who’s still strapped into the wheelchair. I’m glad I’d thought to lock the wheels earlier. The chair had spun a little, but otherwise stayed in place. His head lolls to one side. His breathing is shallow and regular. He seems to have been the least affected of anyone.
“Everyone okay?” Kelly asks, when I rejoin him in the engineer’s compartment.
I shrug. “As okay as can be expected. We need to move them, and the sooner the better. Whatever the EM signal’s doing to their implants, it can’t be very good. It may already be too late.”
“Don’t think that.”
“Am I just supposed to go on believing they’ll be fine?” I snap.
Kelly takes in a long, deep breath, then slowly lets it out.
I start checking the drawers and cabinets in the driver’s compartment.
“Already checked,” Kelly says.
I don’t stop. I can’t stop moving or else I’ll never be able to start again.
“What are you looking for?”
“I don’t know. This,” I say, when I find a flashlight. I flick it on and my heart sinks when it doesn’t work. “Batteries are dead.”
Deadman's Switch & Sunder the Hollow Ones Page 2