by Ellis, Tara
“We’ve got company!” Eddy called out, and Tyler was instantly alerted by the hint of concern in the man’s voice. He figured anything that squeezed some sort of emotional response out of that rock had to be significant.
Peta had just finished pouring gas into the truck for the third time, and Jason and Devon were busy filling the other one. They all froze and watched as the same car they’d passed earlier slowly rolled back past them. This time, Tyler saw that the old sedan was full of four, possibly five men, instead of the original two. That had to be a bad sign.
Peta ran back with the empty can and tossed it to Devon before grabbing the full one from Jason. “Hurry!” she snapped, as the car turned the corner and disappeared.
“Get in the truck,” Eddy ordered Tyler, while loping back to stand at the open driver’s door.
Feeling inadequate, Tyler finished shoving the food and supplies in around Hernandez as best he could, before jumping up next to Marty. The dog was so busy licking up the last of the gravy that he failed to pick up on the mounting tension in the group.
Peta looked up and met Tyler’s gaze as she poured the gas in, and she did her best to smile encouragingly at him. “Good job on the food,” she offered, glancing down at Marty. “Especially the Alpo. Dog’s can’t live as long off the same crap as us.”
She ran back toward Jason and Devon before he could come up with some witty response. He didn’t know if it was his exponentially growing paranoia, or if the car really posed as much of a threat as he feared. But when he saw it again the third time, there was no more questioning it. He was right to be afraid.
They came from the other direction, so had turned around again. They stopped just before the parking lot, and made no effort to contact them in a normal way. Instead, all four doors opened at the same time and five men rapidly exited before running in their direction.
A gunshot rang out. Tyler shouted involuntarily and ducked while looking over at Eddy, where the shot had come from. He was in a wide stance and getting ready to fire again. Instead of shooting harmlessly into the air, he was taking aim at the nearest man.
As Tyler followed where the gun was pointed, he understood why. They weren’t the only ones with weapons, and it was only a matter of who fired first. Dropping to his stomach in the bed of the truck, Tyler reached for Marty and pulled the dog up against him as a volley of shots exploded.
Chapter 15
JASON
Guayana City, Venezuela
Jason was already on the move as the doors to the car flew open, and he wasn’t surprised to see the men jump out. He’d known they were on borrowed time. A group of healthy people with a running vehicle stood out, and they were a prime target for anyone looking to survive by taking what they wanted. There was also a strong possibility that a sort of territory was already being established by those left behind, and they’d feel they had the right to protect what they saw as their gas and supplies.
“Leave it!” he shouted at Peta, when he saw her trying to retrieve the gas cans as Devon dropped his and took off. “Get to the truck!”
Running with gun drawn, Jason quickly closed the distance between himself and Eddy. By the time Eddy was lining up a shot with the guy in front of the pack, Jason was already firing at the one other armed man in the group.
His target crumpled to the ground with an undramatic grunt.
Eddy’s aim was wide. Thankfully, so was his opponent’s.
Tink!
The bullet ricocheted harmlessly off the open driver’s-side door. Eddy ducked reflexively, but Jason never stopped moving. Before the lead attacker even realized there was another shooter, he was slammed center-mass by Jason’s second shot, and thrown backwards.
Three left.
Swinging the Glock rapidly to his left, and then his right, Jason promptly assessed the other threats.
One had a crowbar, but was in the process of backpedaling away from him. Another was already on the ground in what Jason assumed was a reaction to the gunfight, cowering. He looked pale and sickly, and was likely infected with The Kuru. The last man was still approaching, and based on his appearance, it was a suicide run. He had a large sickle-like farm tool clutched in his left hand, raised over his head.
He growled, spittle flying from his mouth as he loped forward, dragging his right leg behind him.
To an outside observer, Jason didn’t hesitate. To him, it was a tough decision, and not one he came to without considering the other options. But the man was a lethal threat, and clearly had nothing to lose.
Crack!
The report from the Glock bounced off the cement buildings, sounding more like a whip snapping. The blade fell first, clattering as it hit the cement. A grotesque smile twisted in pain was plastered on the man’s face as he dropped to his knees, and blood spilled over his lips as he fell forward, unmoving.
“Holy—” Devon muttered.
Jason turned his head enough to see that Devon had managed to duck inside the passenger seat of the truck, and was peeking up over the dashboard.
Eddy stepped out from behind the door, toward Jason, while gesturing to the remaining men. “What about them?”
Jason scowled as he watched the two in question scamper away. “What do you mean, Eddy? They’re running. We’re leaving. End of story. You think I want to start taking shots at the last few survivors on the planet, for sport?”
“I didn’t mean—”
A piercing scream cut into whatever lame retort he was going to make, and Jason spun around with weapon raised, to see that Peta was still with the gas cans. Except, she wasn’t alone.
Damnit!
He knew better than to forget about the rear. The car was meant to be a distraction while someone else grabbed the gas… and possibly a female hostage. There were two of them, and while they didn’t have guns, it didn’t matter.
Jason began edging closer as one of them picked up the two cans, while the second man pulled Peta back hard against his chest, a long knife already at her throat.
“La matare!” the thug shouted, his eyes wild and nostrils flaring. “La matare!” He jerked the knife for emphases, creating a thin trickle of blood and eliciting a moan from Peta.
“He said he’s going to kill her!” Devon shrieked. He sounded panicked, but Jason couldn’t afford to turn around and look at anyone else. He focused instead on the man lined up in his sights.
Twenty feet.
The guy with the gas was backing away, eyeing Jason nervously. He’d just seen him kill three other men, and he was understandably cautious. Jason kept moving, taking smooth, measured steps that seemed non-threatening.
Peta’s eyes were glued to Jason’s. She didn’t struggle. Instead, she held onto the arm of her attacker and didn’t give him a reason to react as he began dragging her backwards. Perfect. He needed her to be as still as possible.
Fifteen feet.
“Detener! Suelta el arma!”
“Stop!” Devon translated, yelling at Jason louder than the other man. “He said to stop and drop the gun. Do it, Jason, or he’s going to kill her!”
Jason didn’t lower his gun.
The gas man spun around and began to run. They had reached the corner of the building, and he saw Peta’s assailant’s eyes flicker to the side, looking for his point of egress.
Now!
Jason moved. Instead of stopping or dropping the gun, he took four rapid steps straight at them. Without flinching, he pulled the trigger.
The bullet bored into the man’s forehead. His head snapped back, and his dead weight pulled Peta down on top of him as he collapsed.
She didn’t scream. As Jason reached them, Peta was already rolling away. She barely made a sound as he yanked her to her feet and spun her around to examine the wound on her neck. The cut was low and to the side of her collarbone. A result of the fall, not a fatal swipe from her attacker. The rest of the blood splatter wasn’t her own.
“I’m okay,” she muttered, while pressing her fingers t
o the wound to stem the small flow of blood. “I’m okay.”
Jason gripped her by the shoulders and took a hard look at her. She was in shock and dazed, but other than the somewhat superficial cut, she was right. She’d be okay.
A hand on his arm caused Jason to refocus, and he turned to find Eddy standing next to him. “I think it’s well past our time to go.”
“Peta!” Devon called out as he ran up to them. Putting one of his own hands on top of her bloodied ones, he applied pressure while turning her toward the truck. Staring openly at Jason with a bewildered expression, he then glanced down at the body missing the top portion of its head. “Come on,” he said with a grimace, leading her away.
Jason was still on edge, and continued to sweep the visible roads as Eddy got behind the wheel. Devon was rummaging through their limited first aid supplies in the back while Peta sat stoically on the open tailgate.
Jason pointed at Tyler. “Get up front, and help spot for Eddy. Take Marty with you.”
The kid was smart enough not to ask questions. He just nodded in response and hopped down before calling to Marty.
Climbing up next to Peta, Jason pulled her back and then closed the tailgate, as the truck moved forward with a jerk. Sitting down in the limited space around Hernandez, he then reached a hand out to Devon for the first aid kit. When Devon eyed him questioningly, Jason scoffed. He didn’t have time to deal with whatever territorial feelings the other man was having about Peta. “I’m a trauma doctor, Devon. I think I’m more qualified.”
Unable to come up with a valid argument, Devon reluctantly gave him the bag. “How did you know you wouldn’t hit Peta?”
Jason wasn’t surprised by the question, but he was still irritated that he had to defend his actions. “Because I was close enough that I knew I wouldn’t miss.”
Peta raised a hand to ward off any further comment from Devon. “We don’t need to talk about this now. Please.”
Devon obviously bit back a reply, and instead turned to watch the road behind them. “Do you think there’s more?”
“Possibly,” Jason said, as he inspected Peta’s wound. As he suspected, her collarbone had prevented it from going very deep. In a perfect world he would have thrown a few stitches in it, but some butterfly Band-Aids and clean gauze would have to do. “But not from the same group. I think they got the message loud and clear that it’s best to leave us alone.”
“Um, I don’t think everyone got the memo,” Devon replied, pointing off to the right side of the road.
They were on a road that skirted the main part of the city until they reached the far side, so the buildings and streets were still spread out and more rural. They were approaching what looked like an elementary school, and there was a large, open field alongside it.
In the field, there were at least a dozen tents set up. They were spaced out in what appeared to be even distances, in a circular pattern. Several fires were burning, interspersed between them. The orderly fashion it all presented was curious enough, given the state of the rest of the city. But that wasn’t the oddest thing about it.
People were gathering in front of the tents, near the fence that lined the road. As they came abreast of them, Jason counted ten people, and several more were approaching. Eddy must have seen them too, because the truck slowed to a crawl.
They held no weapons, and there was no yelling or anything else that indicated any sort of threat. There also wasn’t any music, or loud conversations. No children laughing, or any of the other sounds you’d expect from a large group of people out in the open. They might be able to pass as any other refugee camp they might expect to come across, except…
“How come they’re so quiet,” Devon whispered. “And why are they staring at us like that?”
As a woman raised a hand in greeting. Her face was devoid of joy, or fear, or any emotion at seeing them. It was then that Jason understood.
“They’re the Cured,” Peta said, not bothering to whisper like Devon. “They’re finding each other.”
The truck sped up, leaving the band of survivors behind. Jason tried to distract himself with cleaning the blood off Peta’s shoulder and face, and then the careful application of the Steri-Strip’s. He didn’t know why the knowledge that the Cured were gathering together should be so troubling…except that it was.
“Okay, guys,” Devon said as he rearranged Hernandez’s head on a balled-up jacket for a pillow. “Anyone else find that Children-of-the-Corn kind of creepy?”
Peta chuckled, and Devon smiled at her appropriate response to his joke. But Jason wasn’t laughing. He was remembering the equally creepy conversation he’d had with Eddy four days prior, deep in the underground facility. “He said this would happen.”
Peta put her hand over his to take over the direct pressure on her fresh bandage, and met his troubled gaze. “Who said what would happen?”
Chastising himself for saying anything out loud, Jason grimaced and struggled to find the right words. Sighing, he decided to be blunt. They were way past the point of sugar-coating anything. “Eddy. He said the Cured would seek each other out.”
Peta and Devon exchanged a nervous look.
“Why?” Peta asked, squinting at him with what he was coming to understand was her expression for when she heard something she didn’t like.
Shifting, Jason stared for a moment at the unconscious man lying in the middle of them, blessedly oblivious to what had just happened. That he’d been forced to kill some of the limited survivors of The Kuru. Why? Because they were following the fallacy of human nature Eddy had so recently accused them of. He’d been right about that. What if Eddy was also right about The Cured?
“Jason?” Peta spoke softly, like she was afraid of how he’d react to a stronger prompting.
“Because they know we’re a threat.” Tossing the bloody bandages onto the floor of the truck, Jason rested his elbows on his knees, and leveled her with a steady, open gaze. “And eventually, after we’re done attacking each other, they’ll be ready to destroy what’s left.”
Chapter 16
MADELINE
Lassen National Forest
Northern California
Madeline reached out for the microphone, and then stared at the ham radio for a moment before keying up. She was experiencing what amounted to excitement for her, though she suspected there was no longer a dopamine or adrenaline release associated with the connections being made in her brain. While she was still able to recognize the relative emotions, such as fear or pleasure, it was muted to the point that it didn’t elicit a physiological change.
“Kilo six mike sierra. Listening.” Madeline replaced the handset and remained long enough to make sure there wasn’t an immediate response. She’d been repeating the call sign on the proper frequency every fifteen minutes for the past three hours. Ever since she’d gotten the long-awaited reply to her email.
Leaving the radio on, Madeline walked around the desk and sat down. Her knees creaked as she did so, and she issued a grunt in response to her complaining joints. Being immobile on the bed for several days took a toll on her body that she hadn’t yet fully recovered from. Doing her best to ignore the various pains, she opened the laptop and studied the message that had arrived shortly after noon.
“Dr. Madeline Schaeffer,” Madeline mumbled under her breath, as she read it for perhaps the tenth time. “I am responding to your solicitation to the Libi Nati and my input as the lead field scientist in its research. We seem to be at a disadvantage in regard to communication, and at the mercy of a failing infrastructure and computer systems. For this reason, I recommend we speak via radio, and I am attaching both the frequency and call sign under which the preserve is registered.”
Madeline paused to compare the scratchings on the notepad near her elbow, to ensure she’d copied the post-script information down properly. It would do her no good if she was transmitting out to the universe, and no one was listening. Satisfied, her eyes flitted back to the screen, her f
ace cast into unnatural hues by the glaring light.
“While your email was rather vague, I do believe I understand the implications adequately enough to be confident that your involvement with the Libi Nati would be well-served and of mutual benefit. For this reason, if you are alive and acquire this note, we will be monitoring for you. Regardless of your registered sign, please use your initials for the suffix, so we can correctly identify you. Best regard, Dr. Eric Davies.”
It was dated for that past Sunday, the same day she woke up from the coma. Which meant it was a reply to her original email, before she’d even gotten sick. It had taken three days to make it through the glitchy system and find its way to her. He was right to suggest the ham radio, and it was fortunate Madeline was already so well prepared for the current circumstances.
Two other emails came through at the same time. Both had also been sent earlier that week and were of moderate interest. The first was from her primary military contact for ICONS, and was six days old. The Admiral made the unusual request that she join him at some CDC lab in southern California. Madeline imagined it was in reaction to the email she’d sent Kabir Bakshi, which was the other email. They obviously must have spoken with each other about it, and her revelation to Bakshi that she had taken ill, as they all originated on the same date.
Mr. Bakshi wasn’t as friendly as the Admiral, and the one-line message telling her to rot in hell by herself was clearly nothing more than an emotional reaction to the harsh words she’d slung at him. Madeline understood now what a waste of time all of that was. A charade of pointless, power-play positioning that meant absolutely nothing in the end.
The Admiral, on the other hand, was more a man of action with fewer words. She presumed he had something to do with the Men in Black that were still cooling on her burn pile. While Madeline found the connection intriguing, she had no intention at that point in time to try and get back to him. She’d let him continue to think she was dead. Her playing lab rat at some undisclosed CDC lab was not a part of her new and expanding plans.