Returning, he took my hand and asked: “What do you remember about being in the room downstairs?”
I shuddered involuntarily, as I recanted what I remembered. “I think I saw Nikki - she told me she was leaving me in the room because of an emergency. Then I felt a terrible pain in my right leg, and maybe a fight. Then I felt really cold - painfully cold. I felt like I was dying, and then I guess I passed out. Next thing I remember is I somehow made it to the shower.”
The tears flowed freely again, I continue, “Just before getting in the shower, I saw myself in the mirror. I was so covered with blood and, and…. meat, tissue, gore, whatever the Hell you want to call it, I barely recognized myself.”
“The whole time I showered, I saw images of me gorging on raw meat; I could remember the sounds of bones breaking in my hands. I was terrified when I remembered how good I felt as I ate. I think I spent an hour in the shower, but I didn’t feel clean no matter how much I scrubbed, or how much soap I used. I left the shower and was trying to get out of that terrible room a few minutes before you arrived.”
Martin leans back, his right hand drifting to the grip of his Glock. His eyes look distant as if his body was here, but his mind is elsewhere.
I ask, “Who was in that room?”
Coming out of his contemplation, Martin said, “Hmm, Oh, Room 2107 held two of our terminal patients. Both were comatose and we were waiting for family notification so we could have them moved to our local hospice facility. The first was Mr. William Adachi; he was” –
I interrupted him, ” I, .. HE was… …95 years old, a former Tech Sergeant, U.S. Army.” I felt my body sit up straight - at attention, my voice changing in pitch and timber.
“I,… he was a mechanical engineer before the war and became a member of the Japanese-American 522nd Field Artillery Battalion, one of the fastest and most efficient FABs in WWII. I was there when they opened the gates at Dachau. The horrors inside that camp are something I will never forget.” I looked at Martin, thinking that his expression of shock and terror must mirror my own.
Nervously, and with an extreme effort, he said, “The other individual was Charles Myers”
My posture and voice changed again as I said, “52 years old, ex-Marine Recon and former Navy Seal. I did five tours in Iraq and three in Afghanistan. I’m an expert in Krav Maga, Judo, and hold a Tae Kwon Do black belt. I became a spook in 1998, and I can use almost any firearm ever made.” I knew I could fly a helicopter too, but didn’t say anything as I watched the color slowly return to Martin’s shocked face.
The river of tears from earlier burst into body racking sobs that come out in huge waves. Martin joins me on the edge of the bed, pulling me into a hug as the door opened.
“Is she okay?” asks Nikki from the doorway, but doesn’t move to join us. Martin extricates himself from my arms and lays me down on the bed.
Walking over to Nikki he said, “Our Ashleigh fine, just as healthy and normal as can be. She’s just a little overwhelmed.”
Nikki relaxes visibly and said, “Aren’t we all right now?” to both of us.
Martin joins her at the door, asking, “How are we doing here?” effectively changing the subject.
Nikki realized this and just rolled with it.
“Connor and Marcus raided the pantry stores in the basement for a second time. They got all the food they could move, then went to the security office to get all of the security gear they could find.
As long as the water keeps flowing we now have enough supplies for up to 25 to 30 people, which will last at least a week to 10 days. We can’t use the elevators too many more times; it stirs up the locals too much. Connor said it got ugly more than once. As we agreed on, I’ve quarantined them in separate bedrooms in Room 2201 for the next three hours. They have around two hours left.” she explained.
Martin nodded and smiled appreciatively “Tell the boys well done; they are our heroes. I’ll be by shortly to have a talk with them. I want to give Ashleigh a little more time to adjust. It’s not every day you wake up from brain surgery to find the world has fallen apart around you.” he explained.
Nikki nods and retreats from the room, closing the door behind her.
He returned to the foot of the bed and looked down at me.
Returning his gaze, the tears started flowing again. “I ate those men…”I whispered.
Bile rising in my throat, I jump up from the bed and run to the bathroom. I grab the edge of the bowl as my stomach convulses, but nothing comes out. After few minutes I wash my hands and face again before returning to the bedroom.
Martin said, “I am trying to remain professional here, but I’m almost as scared as you are right now. I cannot begin to grasp what this must be like for you. But, from your reaction, I’d say you did not do this willingly. It sounds more like it was instinctive – part of a process that was completely out of your control.
Nikki told me one of these creatures entered Room 2107 briefly, but was subdued by one of our orderlies. Carl dispatched your attacker, but it cost him his life due to a bite to the hand.
It appears that you were infected by this crea-.. zombie. I still find it hard to say that word. I’ve seen these ZOMBIES in action, yet cannot wrap my mind around calling them as such.”
Martin took a moment to compose himself before continuing.
“You were bit, and infected, but became something completely different from the mindless automatons that seemed have stepped off the B- movie silver screen.” (Okay, okay, me calling them all “George” wasn’t completely my idea, so sue me!)
Martin slipped back into an academic mindset and said, “It seems you have the memories these two gentlemen; I’ve noticed changes in your demeanor, even your voice when you access their memories. How does it feel? Do you lose control? Is Ashleigh resigned to a back corner of your mind?”
I could hear the nervousness and fear in his voice, Hell, there was probably some disgust too, considering I just ate two friggin’ people. I’m sure I wasn’t high on his list of people he wanted to be alone with at the moment.
I shook my head in the negative, saying, “No, it’s nothing like that at all. These are not separate memories or experiences. No one takes over or assumes control of me.
I feel like I was in Normandy, or Germany, or Iraq, or Afghanistan, as well as other places. I remember sights, smells, sounds, the people, - everything. It’s very disconcerting, I know I grew up in Tucson, but I also know I grew up in Anaheim, and south of here in Weymouth.
The memories that I know can’t be mine, due to when they happened, seem to be easier to process. The ones that overlap stuff I’ve done are much more difficult to sort out. It feels like the overlapping memories are trying to assert themselves more forcefully than the older ones.
Since I know it would be impossible for me to have been born in Anaheim, CA on April 22, 1921, it’s easier to categorize this memory away as one of theirs.”
I continued my explanation, “When I access what have to be Adachi’s memories, I feel warmth, kindness, and peace – and I smell well cared for leather. I think he must have had a leather crafting hobby because I can see the tools, and I know how to use them.
Adachi was a huge patriot and loved the United States. He still had nightmares about what he experienced at Dachau. I can feel and smell it right now, it’s terrible. The whole area feels tainted, like a festering open wound.”
I pause but then smile, “I - He was so happy that he lived to see all the comic book movies of the last few years. His favorites were Captain America, Iron Man, and Wolverine. He knew his time was getting short and he was looking forward to letting go. He was sick for a very long time.”
I paused again; shivering and continued, “I feel like a cold presence is grabbing my brain and spine – almost as if it’s trying to possess me when I access memories associated with Myers. I don’t perceive a certain odor with Myers like I do with Adachi.
Myers worked for the CIA, and I’m a little afraid to push too hard
into his memories. He scares the hell out of me; he wasn’t a very nice guy. I think he was a borderline sociopath. He was very intelligent – brilliant even, but I feel very little empathy or compassion from his memories.
He was a predator, a killing machine; cold, ruthless, and very good at his job. He loved his work and remembered every person he killed. He even kept trophies from some of them.”
“As for their skills, even though I’ve never even seen a Garand rifle, I now know how to use it, clean it, and repair it. It’s the same for an M4 or M16, a Beretta 92, or an AK-47, along with other guns I’ve never even heard of before. I know I could strip and reassemble most of them in 5 minutes or less.”
I paused for a minute, before continuing. I really didn’t like accessing memories associated with Myers.
“Like I said, Myers scares the Hell out me, he killed at least three, maybe four women. His wives, or ex-wives. I remember killing them and disposing of their bodies. I can see him choking a fourth woman, but I’m not sure if she died from this. There’s a lot rage, hate, and emotion associated with these women. So much so, the memories feel damaged and distorted because of it.
I know he was pissed when the FBI put his fifth wife in protective custody while he was on his last deployment in 2012. He tried to find her for months until his CIA Section Chief met him in a Boston parking garage and told him to drop it, or he’d end up on a slab. He kept looking for her; he just hid it better. He only stopped looking for her in mid-2014, because of his pancreatic cancer.”
I wrapped my arms around my body, signaling the end to this part of the conversation.
Martin nodded in understanding and explained, “I don’t know much about either man other than some of their medical information. Nikki might know more since they were both still conscious when they arrived here about a couple months ago.
Both men lapsed into deep comas this past week. So while what happened to them, and you, is terrible and traumatic, I truly don’t think they felt much of anything.”
Martin paced small circles, deep in his role as a scientist, “If you have their experiences, fears, skills, and habits, it would be truly amazing! I could make a separate career out of just studying what you have become.”
I looked at him while raising my right eyebrow, distinctly aware that I was unable to do that before this nightmare began, feeling the cold presence come roaring back like an ice storm. I stood up in a defensive posture.
“That’s great! I get to be your sexy little lab rat, is that it Doc? Bet you’ll have me in a cage, naked to amuse yourself with!” I snarled at him.
Martin stopped moving, his right hand immediately touching the gun on his hip.
With his left hand held up in acquiescence, he said, “I’m sorry Ashleigh, my academic background got the best of me. But we need to see what you’re capable of. Your blood alone could be liquid salvation for whatever remains of the human race.”
My surprise pushed the cold away.
Martin must have seen my expression and demeanor change as he continued, “Yes, my Dear, the vaccine for this scourge could be coursing through your veins right now.”
I shook and hung my head, both to push the remnants of Myers away and as a visual apology to Martin, “Sorry Doc, you just met Myers.”
“I see, charmed, I’m sure,” he replied sarcastically.
16
Martin removed the gun from its holster. “Let’s see how much you retain from these gentlemen.” The cold presence returned, but more subtle, like a whisper.
“Glock 17 9mm semiautomatic handgun with either a 10 or 17 round magazine. It weighs approximately 900 grams loaded.”
Martin smiled and said, “Correct on all accounts. I purchased the 17 round magazines in ’93; I guess magazine size laws are not in effect anymore.” Handing me the pistol he orders, “Safe that weapon soldier!” with authority I have never heard in his voice before.
In one fluid motion, I eject the magazine, catching it with my left hand, sliding into my pocket. I grabbed the slide and lock it back.
I announced, “The weapon is safe, Sir,” as I presented the open chamber to him for inspection.
Smiling, he said, “I never used to keep one in the chamber, with our current predicament, I think I’ll adjust this tactic.” Taking the gun and magazine from me he reloaded the weapon, “I’d say you have all of their skills. Your grip was astounding; my hand is still a tad bit sore. Do you feel stronger?”
Looking away introspectively I say, “I always thought I was in good shape, but I feel amazingly healthy right now. All my senses feel turbo-charged. If I concentrate, I can hear your heart beating - it just got faster.”
I point to the small writing desk in the corner of the room, and I ask, “Could you sit down in the desk chair please?”
As he sat down, I walked up behind him. With only my left hand, after a couple of test lifts for positioning, I lifted him off the floor with almost no effort. I’m sure I could have extended my arm all the way over my head if it weren't for the ceiling tiles.
Nervously he says, “Ground floor, please Ms. Ashleigh!”
Setting him down carefully, I return to the edge of bed and say, “I think that would equate to you picking up a can of soda or beer, maybe less.”
Martin shakes his head in silent astonishment.
I said to him, “You are taking all of this with a remarkable amount of understanding, and resolution. You’re in a room with a woman who just consumed two people, and is much stronger than you. I’m not sure I wouldn’t have used that gun on me by now if I was you.”
Martin stepped back, his face looking sad and angry. “You are quite mistaken, Ashleigh. I’m quite terrified and aghast at what has befallen you. I’m here now to keep you away from the others until I can figure out if you can be trusted.
But I’m also a doctor and a scientist. If what has happened to you can be duplicated, minus the killing and consuming, it might be the salvation we need right now. It’s clear you were an unwilling participant in this, and you seem just as upset and disgusted as I, so I’m giving you the benefit of the doubt.
Your mother is one of my best friends and confidants, and I gave her my word I would watch over you. But make no mistake, if I feel you becoming a threat to me, or anyone else, I will respond accordingly.”
I felt myself getting very angry with Martin. A rush of icy fire threatened to consume me, but it melted away as a warm heat took its place. My sense of smell was again permeated by the scent of leather, like that of a treasured baseball glove or the upholstery in a well-cared-for antique car.
After taking a couple deep cleansing breaths and bowing slightly, I reply, “I understand, I will do my best to prove to you that I’m not a threat. I want to figure this out as much as you do. Please don’t give up on me just yet.”
“Do you feel a need or desire to eat me right now?” Martin asked with an apprehensive smile.
My face crinkled up, and I said mockingly “No! You are too old and tough! Though it might be nice to pick up a proper British accent..”
We both laugh, and he says, “There’s the Ashleigh I’ve come to know.” opening his arms wide, which I readily accept.
With his face buried in my shoulder, he continued. “I promised your mother I would watch over you as I would my own, and I keep my promises.”
I could hear his voice breaking, and the quickness of his breathing, I knew he was crying. It was my turn to give support; I held him until he got control of his emotions. I knew from my flight out with Mom that Martin and Martha had lost a child, a girl, at birth. Due to complications, Martha could not have any more children.
They had numerous foster kids and even adopted four over the years, but Mom said the loss was a pivotal moment in Martin’s life. She said it was most likely the reason he accepted the position with the Davron Group so quickly. They both needed a change, a way to start over. Mom told me that Martha had passed away in early 2015, after a short battle with a very a
ggressive breast cancer.
Pulling away, Martin was just about to speak when Nikki burst through the door, exclaiming, “You need to come see this!” to both of us.
17
Exiting the bedroom, we join Nikki in the living area, where the flat screen TV is all snow. Following her over to Room 2201, I begin to worry about Connor or Marcus.
I relaxed a bit as I heard Connor say, “Nikki? Did you bring them to see this? Is that what I think it is? Oh God, are we in danger?”
Responding, “They’re here Connor, give us a minute, Darling.” slipping back into the nurse/patient routine she’s practiced for over 17 years.
She leads us to the living room window, one that looks almost directly south across the city. I hear Martin say, “Oh My!” as he approaches.
It takes me a moment to realize I need to look at the skyline, not the city itself. Looking up, I see a mushroom cloud near the edge of the horizon. By the clouds location on the horizon, and my acquired knowledge of the local geography, I’m pretty sure I know where the device was detonated, New York City.
Nikki says, “Well, isn’t that great! Now we need to worry about fallout too! Weren’t zombies enough for one lifetime? That has to be Manhattan, or New York City, right?”
The cold presence splashes over me like a bucket of ice water. I reply loud enough for all to hear.
“We should be fine, it was most likely a single warhead W76 SLBM – Sub Launched Ballistic Missile or a Cruise Missile with a W80 warhead. Both are around 100 to 150 Kilotons in yield, but it could have been something bigger. New York City is about a 190 miles from us, so it’s hard to be certain of the size from this distance.
Since the cloud is so white, I’m fairly certain it was an airburst. Meaning most of the fallout will stay in the general area. So unless we get a giant storm within the next 24 hours that is on a direct line from New York to Boston, it will take years of wind and weather to move any radioactive materials like dust or ash to this area. By then it will be so diluted to be almost harmless. Although it looks like visiting parts of New York City is out of the question for our lifetimes.”
Dark Rhodes: Book 1 of the Ashleigh Rhodes Chronicles Page 5