Pestilence Rising

by Lea Ryan

Pestilence Rising

  Lea Ryan

  Copyright 2013 Lea Ryan

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  Acknowledgements:

  I would like to thank my editor, Dee Crabtree, and my beta readers: Josette Bender, Diane Moore, and Rowan Brigid McShane. I would also like to thank my technology sponsor, Dawn Fulgham. Also, everyone who has ever supported me, you rock!

 

  Chapter 1

   

  “Come on, Hunter. I promise I won't bite, unless you want me to.” The brunette on the monitor giggled with her hand over her mouth. “What are you afraid of? I promise I'm not an axe murderer.”

  Music played in the background, male vocals, piano. Bruno Mars?

  I smiled. Girls were almost always too easy.

  “I don't meet online dates in real life. It's a policy of mine.”

  Actually, the policy was my employer's but I couldn't tell Lizzy that because if I did, she would vanish, and I'd never find her. It was only one of several reasons why the Center for the Preservation of Natural Order didn't take kindly to their employees fraternizing with their targets beyond what was necessary to bring them in. As sexy as she was, I’d have to initiate her pickup.

  “Well, your policy sucks. What's the matter? I'm good enough to talk to online but not good enough for you to take out?”

  'Pickup' was Center lingo for illegal arrest and abduction. With a simple click, I would start a tracking program that would grab her IP address, along with her location, and transmit it to waiting goons. They would sweep into Lizzy's house and remove her from society and stick her in a place where no one would ever find her.

  “Trust me. You are plenty good enough.”

  Her crime? None, really. She has psychokinetic abilities. The Center calls us anomalies. We are people with extraordinary abilities. Mine is more affliction than asset, unfortunately, but the Center lets me roam semi-free because I play by their rules.

  Lizzy doesn't know the rules. She isn't even aware the game exists. All she sees is some guy on the other end of a webcam who seems interested in her.  

  “What if I took off my top? Would that be sufficient enticement?”

  “Hard to say.”

  Okay, maybe I could delay the initialization for a few more minutes. I leaned closer to the monitor, rested my chin in my hand only to be reminded by the stubble against my palm that I should probably shave at some point. When you only leave your apartment for food and supplies, grooming has a tendency to take a back seat. I guessed Lizzy was into the rugged look.

  Her full lips drew into a skeptical smirk, “Well, I'm not just going to show off the goods with no hope of payoff.”

  “I didn't indicate there would be no payoff.”

  Neither of us was destined to come out any happier than we were before we started talking. I’d benefit in the sense that I’d get to keep my apartment and my freedom for a while longer, but as far as our flirtation went, I’d end up equally unsatisfied.

  Soon, this two-week dance of ours would end. She’d hate me without really knowing who I was, and she’d blame me for taking her future from her. I’d be a villain in her mind. Winning never felt so awful.

  “I want a guarantee that if I take off my top for you, you'll at least give me a date, take me to a movie or dinner or, geez, just take a walk with me on the beach. This is a drastic measure.”

  “I would love to walk on the beach with you.”

  I swallowed the ache creeping up my throat. I really hated this part of the job. Getting the girls to talk to me and like me made me feel normal. I never had any qualms about our initial conversations because most of the time, I liked them. I enjoyed talking to them, figuring out what we had in common.

  I was having second thoughts about turning her in. Maybe it was the way she looked at me with hope in her eyes. She had made a significant connection to another human being; I knew that expression. I'd seen it more often than I’d want to admit. Like me, other anomalies didn't typically have an abundance of friends. That would make the betrayal all the worse for her. I repressed my disgust with myself, reached up and activated the icon that looked like a record button.

  Before I initiated pickup, I had to get her using her ability on video that would later be studied by her captors. They’d use it to determine her threat level and also to show her they already knew what she was, in case she denied it.

  “I have another idea.”

  “Oh, really? Does it involve you and me and a club, maybe?”

  The red blinking light on the screen told me it was recording.

  “No club,” I offered up a weak smile, “Do you remember when we first started talking a couple of weeks ago?”

  “Yes.” Her hopeful expression faltered. She couldn't quite tell where I was going but didn't really want to go there, just the same. We were venturing into uncomfortable territory. “On that message board.”

  “Right. You asked about psychokinesis, the physics of it.”

  “Yeah, so?”

  “You can do it, can't you? You can move objects by willing them to move.”

  She shot a glance around her room to make sure no one was listening.

  “I don't know what you're talking about. That's not really possible.”

  “I can do something, too, Lizzy.”

  Her face paled. I couldn't say I blamed her. This conversation had gone from sexy to dangerous in ten seconds flat. Even though she wasn't aware of the Center, she knew well enough what could happen if she admitted to her ability. Anomalies have those nightmares - our family turning against us, the world turning us into sideshow freak attractions or worse - using us as weapons. Right that second, Lizzy looked like a deer in headlights.

  Her volume fell to just above a whisper, “What can you do?”

  “Same as you.”

  That was a lie, of course. I wish I could push. That ability seems so wonderfully normal when compared to mine. Instead, I’m a ravager, which is the opposite of a healer. A healer makes you better. A ravager causes sickness and possibly death, depending on the severity of the attack. Charming, right? I learned early on not to tell my marks the truth because it had a tendency to scare them off.

  I added, “I'll show you mine if you show me yours.”

  Lizzy found the offer acceptable, “Ok. My roommate is getting ready for her date. When she leaves, I'll come back, and we'll talk. Ten minutes?”

  I nodded, “I'll be here.”

  Lizzy clicked off her camera, and the chat window went dark.

  I pushed back my chair, feeling more apprehension than usual about the whole deal. This mark felt different. I couldn’t put my finger on why, exactly. I was getting too attached; I thought.

  I rose from my chair to stretch. The apartment was a mess, as usual. Fast food wrappers littered the table - a testament to my solitary lifestyle. My clothes were everywhere - conveniently located if I needed to grab something and throw it on to go out. I wasn't leaving just then, but I spotted my dad's old military jacket and put it on anyway. The thing was so beat up; I’d have to let it go soon.

  A half-smoked joint in the ashtray by the window beckoned me. I needed it that day, if I was going to go through with ruining Lizzy's life. I heaved the window open and sat in the sill, one leg inside, the other on the fire escape outside.

  Rain fell, but it wasn’t enough to bother me. The air was fresh, despite the pollution. Neon lights from the street just beyond the alley painted glowing reflections onto puddles below.

  The streets in my corner of Chicago were quiet, perhaps with dread. Meteorologists had predicted intense rain for days. The sky would descend on the Midwest in a series of storms and showers. That night, the initial front hit the cit
y. It didn't seem bad, then, pleasant even.  

  Smoke filled my lungs, and everything decelerated. I kept picturing Lizzy in my mind, the girl, the life beyond the webcam. What would happen if I just ditched the Center and took off with her? That was a ridiculous idea, but what if? No more targeting my own kind. No more reporting to that prick, Gideon.

  I sat in the window, trying to come up with ways of making an escape work until the joint burned the tip of my finger and my thumb, then I swung my head back into the apartment. Time to get back to reality, as grim as it was. I extinguished the roach and dropped it back into the ashtray. I decided to leave the window open for a while to let in the smell of the rain.

  When I turned, she was standing in the middle of my living room.

  “Lizzy?”

  She was there in the flesh, but that wasn't possible. She lived miles away, yet, there she was, in my crappy apartment. She calmly observed my confusion at this development.

  A stream of questions rushed through my head, but I was only able to give voice to the simplest and the most important, “How?”

  “Hunter?” Her voice emanated from the computer speakers on the desk. Lizzy's face appeared in the chat window. “Who is that?” She sucked in a breath, “Oh my God. She looks just like me! How are you doing that?”

  This girl before me wore the same bob haircut, the same black Misfits t-shirt, presumably the same weathered jeans, but this beautiful creature had not volunteered to take her top off for me moments prior. This was another being entirely, and when I looked closer, there were differences. The hazel eyes possessed iridescence, and she held herself differently. She stood as if poised to leap into action.

  Lookalike Lizzy said, “Please turn that off. I must speak with you alone.” Her voice was almost melodic.

  “What are you?” I stepped back.

  “We don't have time.”

  “Hunter?” Real Lizzy beckoned me again.

  With my eyes on the lookalike, I reached over and exited the chat. I ran through the various anomaly types I knew of. There were pushers like the real Lizzy, ravagers, healers, psychics, and other assorted rarer breeds. I hadn't seen anyone who could teleport or copy people.

  “Your brother needs your help. I was sent to bring you the message and aid you in his rescue. We must leave now.”

  “Why do you look like Lizzy?”

  “I saw her on the screen. I took her form so as not to startle you.”

  The squeal of tires echoed in the alley outside, then the voices of men arguing, Gideon shouting orders.

  “You, side door. The rest of you are with me.”

  She glanced toward the apartment door as Gideon and crew caused a ruckus in Mr. Suresh's kitchen downstairs. Pots clanging, more shouting, I had only seconds before they reached my door.

  “Where is Michael?”

  I hadn't seen my brother since he left home for fame and fortune a decade prior. We had never been close, so his absence wasn't a big deal. He was two years older and had a deep disdain for me. I probably would've felt the same way about someone who killed my mother. Hell, I did feel that way. She was my mother, too.

  The gravity of Gideon's storming of my apartment struck me. They were coming for her. If they took her, I might never find out where Michael was.

  “You have to hide.” I told her as I scanned my tiny living space. Nothing in the apartment offered any chance for concealment. “Can you teleport or something? You need to get out.”

  “What is teleport?”

  Gideon beat on the door so hard that it shook in the frame.

  “What do you have in there, Hunter? Open the goddamn door.” Then to someone else he said, “Bust it in.”

  I grabbed Lookalike Lizzy and crammed her through the open window onto the fire escape. It wasn't the best hiding place, but I wanted a chance to finish the conversation before Gideon hauled her off. I needed to know about Michael. She went along without argument.

  As I returned to the middle of the room where we'd just been standing, Gideon plus four of his cronies burst through my door.

  “What the eff? Mr. Suresh is going to be pissed about having to replace that.” I attempted to sound angry about the intrusion.

  Gideon was of Asian descent somewhere along the line. Every time I saw him, he wore a white suit that hugged his somewhat roundish body. He held one of his guns at his side. He always carried a pair of them; he told me once. He thought two guns made him twice the badass.

  His partner in crime was a guy named Nigel, a tall, skinny white guy with way too much gel in his blond hair. His suit was pine green. The EMF detector in his hand was going nuts, beeping, the lights on top flashing wildly.

  That fun little gadget detected a very specific type of electromagnetic frequency generated by anomalies and the supernatural friction caused by the use of their abilities. The Center called it “violet”.

  “What are you hiding? Whatever it is set off every instrument at the Center.”

  As always, armed Center enforcers accompanied him. Clad in all black, military-style cargo pants and combat boots, they were the meaty muscle of the organization. He motioned for them to search the place.

  They obliged him the best way they knew how, kicking furniture around just because they could, not because they thought someone could hide behind it. They threw open cabinets, checked the shower in the bathroom and then the closet.

  I inched toward the window, trying not to be too obvious about it. Gideon moved with me.

  “Is it you?” Nigel jammed the EMF detector into my face, then shook his head at Gideon.

  An enforcer shoved me from his path toward my television, putting me even closer to the window. Another step or two and I could be outside. Fresh air brushed the nape of my neck.

  “The instruments were probably wrong. Look, no one is here but me.”

  Gideon thumbed the hammer on the pistol in his hand, “You don't usually lie. The others do, but not you. I’d like to think that means you know better. You should make decisions that will be the least damaging to your way of life. We're up to a month of observation at the Center. How far do you want this to go?”

  “I'm not a kid anymore, Gideon, and I'm not afraid.”

  “You should be.” He pointed the gun at my head.

  “This is taking too long.” The strange girl poked her head in the window. She grabbed the shoulder of my jacket and dragged me outside with strength well beyond what she should have had. I almost fell down the ladder leading to the alley below us. We were already on the ground when Gideon hit the window.

  Mr. Suresh dropped a garbage bag of glass bottles at the sight of us.

  “Sorry about the door.” I said, “I'll pay for it later.”

  The enforcer who should have been posted at the side door emerged from the kitchen. He yelled for us to stop, trained a heavy black pistol on me, and fired, muzzle flashing in the night. They hadn't even taken the time to attach silencers.

  I ducked. Adrenaline roared through my veins. Fear of what would happen next crawled along my skin and seeped into the air. The harder I tried to stop it, the harder it pushed to get out.

  The disease, the invisible curse my body involuntarily generated, hit the thug and Mr. Suresh simultaneously. My landlord, one of the few people who genuinely liked me, fought for breath that wouldn't come. Veins of blackish rot sprouted from his sleeves and his shirt collar to choke the life from him. I was killing him.

  “No, no, no,” I dug in my pocket for the medication that kept my emotions in check. The weed should have helped, but the craziness had rendered my herbal remedy useless. Gideon and company descended on us and were quickly affected by my unintentional ravage. They hit the pavement on their knees.

  The only way to save the people around me was to take off and hope that I got myself under control before I encountered anyone else.

  “Follow me.” I commanded Lookalike Lizzy, and we headed for the end of the alley to make a left onto a street. Traffic was
light, probably due to the flood predictions. Meteorologists had advised people to remain indoors for their own safety.  

  I knew I had left the alley behind in time to save everyone when Gideon bellowed my name in rage. Under a different circumstance, his anger wouldn't have sounded so sweet. Assuming Gideon didn't decide to misdirect his anger at my landlord, Mr. Suresh would live to sling chicken and kiss his wife and his daughter another day.

  As for us, the danger wouldn’t conclude so neatly. I did, however, have a plan.

  Working with the enemy gives a person enough time and paranoia to come up with a backup plan. I always told myself if I needed to run from Gideon and company, I would head for the park. I could hide in the woods, where no traffic cameras or other surveillance equipment would reveal my location. That's what I hoped, anyway, as I led the girl from the street onto a path into a wooded area. A dirt trail dipped and twisted into darkness.

  I had traversed it many times during the daytime, on my way to or home from the grocery store, as a kind of escape drill. Still, in the dark, with the rain drizzling through the leaves, the path was precarious. I tripped a couple of times over vines and sticks. We slid as we went, catching ourselves on each other or branches reaching for us from the sides of the trail. The girl behind me said nothing until we hit an area just off the paved greenway in the main section of the park.

  “Where is your car? Perhaps we can elude them more effectively if you drive away.”

  “Sorry to disappoint you, sweetheart, but I don't have a car.”

  We steered clear of the patches of illumination given by lamp posts as I led her alongside the greenway, to a more rugged area of the park where the ground became swampy. I kept to the thin patches of grass, so my boots wouldn't get bogged down in the sludge.

  “I thought all humans had cars.”

  Humans? She had differentiated herself from me. Anomalies were a slightly different breed from regular people, but we were still human. What did that mean she was?

  “If it makes you feel better, I wish I had a car now.”

  We descended the riverbank and looped back south toward the greenway bridge over the water to hide in the shadow beneath it. Men jogged across the bridge over our heads. Gideon wasn’t with them, but I could tell by their urgency and dark clothes that they were enforcers. I waited until they were gone.

  “Talk fast.” I said to her, “Who are you and what do you know about Michael?”

  She spoke in that melodic voice again, “I’m Celeste. Your brother was taken, and he's in danger. We are all in danger.”

  That’s when I saw them. Spikes protruded up and out from her back. They were blackish things, gnarled and sharp at the tips.

  “What are you?”

  “You would call me an angel.”

  Anomalies can be crazy, sometimes. They come up with explanations for what they are, not always identifying with the correct species. I once helped apprehend a guy who thought he was an extraterrestrial.

  I would save any debate on the subject for later. Whatever the spikes happened to be, they were obviously related to some sort of injury. The stench of blood and decay hung around her in a noxious cloud.

  “What happened to you?”

  She looked at the ground, “I was unable to fulfill my purpose due to some…improper sentiments toward human beings.”

  “How improper?”

  “I shouldn’t say. I'm here to redeem myself.”

  “How improper?” I repeated. “Did you kill someone or what?”

  She hesitated.

  I added, “I’m not leaving with you until you spill it.”

  “I refused my training because I see no purpose in risking my life to protect such ungrateful, violent children. If I had my way, I would leave you all to the darkness.”

  There was a crunching noise from behind her, and she cried out. I caught her to hold her up.

  “Okay, that’s enough. I’m sorry.”

  “I was cast out for my lack of compassion. The further I stray, the more broken my wings become.”

  She flinched as I touched the tip of one of the spikes. A silvery blue liquid clung to my finger.

  “These are bones.”

  She nodded.

  “And this?” I brought my hand around to show her.

  “My blood isn't like yours.”

  “The punishment seems extreme. You must really not like people.”

  “I have failed to see their merits. Please let me help you. If my wings degrade completely, I won't survive.”

  Gideon stopped at the middle of the greenway bridge, “How about the river? Have any of you halfwits gone down there?”

  Visible through wooden slats over our heads, the EMF reader in Nigel’s hand flashed and beeped frantically, casting fragments of light down on us.

  He said, “They’re nearby.”

  “Get your asses down to the river. I want both of them alive, but feel free to maim them.” Then Gideon called out from the rail, “Olly olly oxen free!”

  We ran up the river. I didn’t know the way, but I would figure it out. I had to.