Scrawl had brought two flashlights along. They each had one, and Josh used his to scan the tunnel ahead of them for anything he didn’t want to step in. Several times the beam of light shone on rats, which looked at Josh and Scrawl with wary eyes and scurried out of sight beneath the piles of trash that littered the floor.
“Where are we going?” Josh asked Scrawl for the tenth time since leaving the apartment.
“I told you, you don’t want to know,” said Scrawl.
“I have to find out sometime,” Josh objected.
Scrawl stopped. He turned and looked at Josh, his flashlight casting a ghostly shadow on his face. “Okay,” he said. “You’re right. I’m taking you to Clatter’s factory.”
“His factory?”
“Where he makes Z,” said Scrawl.
“That’s insane,” Josh said. “We should be getting help.”
Scrawl hesitated. “I think Firecracker is there,” he said. “Maybe Charlie too.”
Josh felt his heart skip a beat. “Why would he have them there?”
“That’s the part you don’t want to know about,” said Scrawl. “You’ll just have to see for yourself.”
He resumed the trek through the sewer. Soon the floor began to slope down, and Josh had to work hard to keep his balance. They descended at a steep angle before the tunnel leveled out again and continued on. Then they walked for another fifteen minutes, making several turns, until they came to a steel door marked with a sign that read CES CREWS ONLY.
“City Electrical System?” Josh said. “What is this, a power hub or something?”
“Or something,” said Scrawl. He was typing something into a keypad to the side of the door. A moment later it opened with a hiss. Scrawl stepped inside and motioned for Josh to follow.
They were in a small room. On the side opposite the first door was another door, exactly the same. The first door shut behind Josh as Scrawl went to the second. “This is an airlock,” Scrawl explained. The two doors can’t be open at the same time, and each one has a different code.” He looked up at the ceiling, where a several small nozzles protruded from the smooth metal surface. “If you enter the wrong code, those emit gas,” he said. “It will knock you out cold in under ten seconds.”
“That would certainly keep people out,” Josh said. “So why do you know the codes?”
Scrawl finished typing. “Let’s just say Clatter trusts me,” he said. “Well, as much as he trusts anyone.”
The room Josh entered next was huge. It was also as modern looking as the sewer entrance was dilapidated. The walls were covered in polished metal, and the lighting was low and soothing. Several fans were running, and the air smelled clean and fresh.
“It’s like a hospital,” Josh said.
Scrawl snorted. “You’re not far off,” he said.
Josh could see a row of five metal operating tables on the far side of the room. As they drew closer, he saw that a body lay on one of the tables. It was a zombie. Its wrists and ankles were constrained by metal cuffs attached to the table, and another metal cuff was around its neck, holding it down.
The zombie was a teenage girl. Her long blond hair was matted, some of it clotted with dried blood from a wound on her scalp. Her skinny body was dressed in dirty jeans and a pink Hello Kitty T-shirt. Her skin was mottled with ugly bruises, and one eye was sewn shut with thick black thread. The other eye looked up at the ceiling, unmoving.
On each cuff was a small circular opening, and into each opening was inserted a long, thin needle attached to a length of clear tubing. Yellowish fluid filled the tubes, which ran beneath the table and disappeared into the floor.
“He makes the zombies here too?” Josh asked.
Scrawl nodded.
Josh reached out to touch the zombie’s skin, but Scrawl grabbed his wrist. “Don’t,” he said.
“Relax,” Josh said, irritated. “I just wanted to feel her skin. It’s amazing how he makes them look so real.” He pointed to the tubes. “What’s that stuff, hydraulic fluid for the robotics?”
“It’s blood,” said Scrawl.
“Blood?” Josh repeated. “What are you talking about?”
“These are bleeding tables,” Scrawl told him. “He’s not pumping anything in, he’s draining it out.”
Josh recoiled, staring at the girl. “I don’t get it,” he said. “I thought you said that this is where he makes Z.”
“It is,” said Scrawl. “But to make Z he needs blood. Zombie blood. And this is how he gets it.”
Josh waited for Scrawl to say he was joking. When he didn’t, Josh pointed to the girl and said, “You’re telling me that’s a real zombie?”
“She’s real, all right,” Scrawl answered.
Josh stared at him. Scrawl had to be kidding. But the look on his face was deadly serious. Could he be telling the truth?
Josh laughed nervously. “You’re messing with me,” he said. “Right?”
Scrawl shook his head.
“There haven’t been any in years,” Josh said.
“There are now.” Said Scrawl.
Josh looked at the zombie on the table. He couldn’t believe he had almost touched it. “Where do they come from?”
Scrawl looked at him. “This is the part you really don’t want to see,” he said. “Don’t freak out on me, okay?”
“I’m already beyond freaked out,” Josh told him. “It can’t get any worse.”
“Yeah, it can,” Scrawl replied. He walked toward a door to the right of the tables. When he reached it, he paused, took a deep breath, and pushed it open.
The stench was enough to make Josh gag. At first he was so busy coughing that he didn’t have time to look for the source of the smell. When he could more or less breathe again, he looked up. They were in a room lined with cells, about twenty on each side. And inside each one was a zombie.
Josh felt like he’d been punched in the stomach. “They’re real?” he said. “All of them? But that’s impossible. All the z’s were wiped out. The virus was wiped out.”
Scrawl shook his head. “That’s just what the government wants people to think,” he said. “They never wiped out the virus, just the people who had it. Clatter’s father worked on the project. He found a way to infect people and make them zombies.”
Josh crept closer to the cell that Scrawl was looking into. Inside it was a man wearing a tattered suit. His skin bubbled with lesions, and his eyes were filmed over. He opened his mouth, revealing stumps of blackened teeth and a swollen purple tongue. Seeing Josh and Scrawl, he beat his hands against the glass, coating it with blood-flecked drool.
“He’s alive?” Josh asked, still unable to believe it.
“Alive as he can be,” said Scrawl.
“And Clatter made him like this?”
Scrawl nodded. “Yeah,” he said.
Josh looked into the next cell. There a woman with a rat’s nest of hair sat in the corner, pulling her own fingernails off. Half a dozen of them littered the floor. Josh felt his stomach rise.
“But why?” he sputtered. “Why would anyone want to make meatbags?”
“Money,” Scrawl said. “Like I said, Clatter’s dad studied the zombie virus. He was a chemist. He wanted to find a way to wipe it out. But the government wanted him to do just the opposite. They wanted him to make a weapon that would turn people into z’s. Something they could put into the water or the air or food to infect a lot of people at once.”
“Biological warfare,” Josh said. “That’s sick.”
“That’s what Clatter’s father thought too,” said Scrawl. “He refused to do it. So they decided to give him a little incentive to cooperate. They kidnapped Clatter. He was maybe five or six. They told Clatter’s father that if he did what they wanted, they would give him his kid back.”
“An offer he couldn’t refuse,” Josh said.
Scrawl nodded. “That’s right,” he said. “He just wanted to save his son. He did what they asked, but they killed him. They killed his
wife too. They would have gotten Clatter, but he got away. I don’t know who he was before, but since then he’s been Clatter.”
“And now he’s making zombies using his dad’s technology,” Josh said. “That’s messed up.”
“I think what happened to him made him a little crazy,” Scrawl replied. “He’s super smart, there’s no doubt about that. But he’s also twisted. He says making money off of z’s is payback for what the government did to him and his parents. The more zombies he makes, the more Z he makes.”
“Z is zombie blood,” Josh said, shuddering at the thought. Then he remembered that he had taken some himself, and panic filled him. “Z turns people into zombies?” he said.
“No,” Scrawl answered. “Don’t worry,” he assured Josh. “We’ve all tried it. It won’t turn you. Clatter has other ways of doing that. Z is made from z blood, but it’s a diluted form of it. Just enough to make you feel a little bit of what they feel, but not enough to turn you.”
Josh slumped to the ground with his back against the door of one of the cells. He heard the zombie inside start clawing at the metal. He tried not to listen. Scrawl came and sat beside him. “How long has he been doing this?” Josh asked him.
“A couple years,” said Scrawl. “It took him a long time to figure out how to do it efficiently. The first versions of Z really did turn users into meatbags. Then Clatter got it to where it only made them crazy. Now he’s got it pretty much figured out.”
“Pretty much,” Josh said. “Great. And how does the game come into this?”
“It’s another way to make money,” said Scrawl. “And it’s a way to get rid of z’s that are too far gone. That’s when he puts them into the game.”
Josh didn’t want to accept what he was hearing. “We’ve been killing … people?” he said. “I’ve been killing people?”
Scrawl took him by the shoulders. “You wanted to know,” he said as Josh took great gulps of air. “Now you do.”
“And you knew about it,” Josh said. “That makes you as bad as he is.”
“He helped me, Josh,” Scrawl said. “He’s helped all of us.”
“You mean he’s bought you,” said Josh, thinking about Scrawl’s nice apartment. Then he remembered how excited he’d been seeing his first paycheck, and he felt a little ashamed. “How many of the others know?” he asked.
“Only Seamus and Finnegan,” Scrawl answered. “I know they don’t look like it, but they’re science geeks. He’s teaching them how to make the Z and how to replicate the virus. I help him with business stuff. The others he just uses for the game.”
A thought occurred to Josh. “So if somebody gets bit in the game, they’re being bit by a real zombie?”
Scrawl didn’t say anything.
“What really happened to Stash and Freya?” Josh asked.
“Josh, it doesn’t—”
“What happened to them!” Josh yelled. “Tell me!”
Scrawl nodded toward the cells at the end of the row. “Over there,” he said.
Josh got up and walked slowly toward the cells. When he got there, he steadied himself and then looked through the window. Freya—or what had once been Freya—lunged at him, her teeth bared. She’d torn out her hair, which lay in bloody clumps on the floor, and her bald scalp was black with dried blood. Josh looked away.
He forced himself to look into the next cell. Stash was in it, standing motionless in the middle of the tiny space. The place on his shoulder where he’d been bitten was green and gangrenous, and his skin was mottled with dark purple lesions. One of his eyes was missing, the socket where it had been like raw hamburger.
“Who are the rest of them?” he asked Scrawl.
“Different people,” he answered. “People who didn’t pay their wagers. Street people. Runaway kids. People nobody will miss.”
“So first he infects them, then he milks them for their blood,” said Josh. “It’s a slaughterhouse. Like they have for animals. Only these aren’t animals, they’re people.”
“Yes, they’re people. What did you think zombies were?” said Scrawl.
“I thought those were cybers!” Josh said. “And the ones in the hologame aren’t real. It’s just pretend.”
“Still, I bet you never really thought about who they used to be,” Scrawl said softly. “I know I didn’t.”
Josh started to argue, but stopped. Scrawl was right. He knew about his aunt Lucy, and yet he had never thought of her—not even once—when he was torching the z’s in the game.
Freya pounded on the window of her cell and let out a strangled scream. Josh turned away. “Is this what happens to Torchers who ‘retire’ from the team?” he asked.
Scrawl didn’t answer, but he didn’t have to. Scrawl’s silence confirmed it.
“So we help him make his money, we kill his victims when he’s done with them, and if we try to get out, we end up like them.” He jerked his head toward Freya’s and Stash’s cells.
“We need to find your friend,” Scrawl said. “And Charlie, if she’s here. He hasn’t turned them yet, or they’d be in here. That means he’s probably holding them somewhere else while he decides what to do with them.”
“Well, I was doing exactly that,” said a voice. Clatter was standing in the doorway, peering at them through his gray glasses. He smiled and nodded at Scrawl, then Josh. “However, I think you gentlemen have just decided for me.”
20
“Where are they?”
Josh faced Clatter. The anger in him was growing quickly, particularly because Clatter just stood there grinning. Josh wanted to wipe the smirk off his face. He even started toward the man, but Scrawl grabbed him and pulled him back. “Don’t do it,” he told Josh. “You won’t win.”
“You should listen to Arthur,” Clatter said. Then he addressed Scrawl. “I assume this means you’ve decided to end our partnership.”
Scrawl said nothing. After a moment Clatter sighed. “I am disappointed,” he said. “You showed such promise. Now, well …” He waved his hand around the room full of cells. “It’s unfortunate.”
“You’re not turning me into one of those things,” said Scrawl. “I’d rather die.”
“That could certainly be arranged,” Clatter replied. “But the alternative is so much more interesting. No, I’m afraid I can’t make an exception for you, Arthur.”
Scrawl stiffened but remained silent, staring at Clatter.
“What do you want?” Josh asked Clatter.
Clatter turned his attention to Josh. “Who says I want anything?” he asked. “Am I to understand that you think this is some kind of negotiation?” He laughed.
“I want Charlie and Firecracker,” Josh said firmly, though terror threatened to take control of him. Now that he knew what Clatter was doing, the possibility that he might not leave the underground lab alive seemed very real.
“You want?” Clatter said. “I don’t think you’re in any position to be wanting anything.”
“Well, maybe I have something you want,” Josh countered.
Clatter raised an eyebrow. “And that would be?” he asked.
“Money,” said Josh.
Clatter leaned against the doorway. “Are you offering me a bribe?”
Josh shook his head. “You know I don’t have that kind of money,” he said. “But I’m worth it.”
“A ransom,” said Clatter.
“No,” Josh said. “Not a ransom. I mean my game playing. And his,” he added, nodding toward Scrawl. “We’re the best gamers you have.”
Clatter shrugged. “You’re good,” he said.
“Really good,” Josh said. “We bring in more money than anyone else on the team.” He didn’t know if this was entirely true, but he figured it was worth a shot. When Clatter didn’t contradict him, he assumed he had guessed correctly.
“Let’s play a game,” he continued. “Me and Scrawl against your zombies. Call in your biggest wagerers. Make a big deal about it. A match to the death or whatever.”
Clatter thought for a moment. Josh held his breath, hoping his idea would work. “Go on,” Clatter said.
“If we win, you let us go,” said Josh. “All of us. We won’t say anything about what you’re doing down here.”
Clatter chuckled. “Or I could just kill you and not worry about that anyway,” he said.
“Except that before we came here I sent my parents a com message telling them where we were going,” said Josh. “It’s set to open at five o’clock tomorrow morning.”
Clatter shook his head. “You’re lying,” he said.
“No, he isn’t,” said Scrawl. “My sister will get the same message. It has maps and everything. The cops would be here by six, and there’s no way you could clear everything out of here by then. Even if you killed us, your entire business would be wiped out. Plus, I think there are some people who would love to get their hands on you.”
Clatter looked from one of them to the other. He’s trying to decide if we’re bluffing, Josh thought. He decided to beat Clatter to the punch. “No, you don’t know whether we really did it or not,” he said. “But you have more to lose by assuming we didn’t than you do by assuming we did.”
To his surprise, Clatter grinned. “That was very well put,” he said. “All right. We’ll play a game. But it won’t be just you and Arthur playing. Your friends will join you. All four of you must survive, and all the zombies will have to be killed. If you can manage that, I will let you all go.”
“How do we know you’ll hold up your end of the bargain?” Josh asked.
“You don’t,” said Clatter. “But you have more to gain by assuming I will than you do by assuming I won’t. So, do we have a deal?”
Josh looked at Scrawl, who nodded.
“Excellent,” Clatter said. “At this hour it will take a little while to gather together an audience. But I think that makes it even more exciting, don’t you? I’ll send the message out immediately. In the meantime, I imagine you’d like to see your friends. Come with me.”
He walked to one of the cells and typed a code into the keypad beside it. Josh and Scrawl stepped back as the door opened.
“Don’t worry,” Clatter said as he stepped inside the cell. “It’s unoccupied.”
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