Catalyst (Book 1): Decay Chains (17 page)

“We don’t need everyone for this,” Stan said.

“No,” Stormy said. “We just need me.”

Thirteen and a half hours later, Stormy stood next to a dinette table on the second floor of a coffee bistro across from Manger Business Centre. The weather was cool enough that she could’ve worn a turtleneck or wrapped a scarf around the bright red slashes on her neck, but she refused to. She didn’t avert her eyes from her reflection in the window either.

She watched personnel, dressed like camouflage space men, work behind the barricades. Reporters accosted them. Ice cold coffee in hand, she whispered into her earpiece. She pulled her hair over her mic as an employee joined her at the window.

“Ma’am, they’ve begun evacuating this side of the street. I’m locking up in a few. Can I get you anything else? All the bagels are half-price now since we’re closing.”

“I’ll take them all.”

“Huh?”

“Box them up and I’ll take them all.”

He took a long look out the window before walking back to the counter.

Stormy whispered into her mic. “Are you writing this down?”

“No,” Ian said.

“Why not?”

“Because I’m recording your voice into my dictator. It’s typing you out for me.”

“Oh, okay.”

“Should I note the large quantity of delicious bagels you’re bringing home?”

“No, but you got my play-by-play right?”

“Yes, of course.”

She watched law enforcement stretch the cordon in her direction until a news van obstructed her view. There wasn’t time for her to relocate now.

“Did you put the bomb on the east end?” Ian asked.

“I put it right where you told me to,” she said.

“That’s got to be where they hid the jammer.”

“I can’t move it now. I can’t even see it anymore. There’s a news van in my line of sight.”

“There’s no time. Any minute now they’re going to turn it on.”

“They haven’t yet. People are still using their cell phones here.”

“Your drop site is within feet of it from what I can tell. Go ahead, kill the jammer, Stormy.”

She closed her fingers around the detonator in her pocket. One brilliant flash later, all hell broke loose behind the news van. Droves of people trampled over each other, vying for the space farthest from the danger. Those in chem suits fought to go in the opposite direction, behind the cordon, toward the threat. Killing the jammer wouldn’t stop the agent, but it would loosen Cold World’s stranglehold on Manger.
Okay cops, do your thing.

Something brushed up against her arm and she felt like a fool when she bowed up on the clerk who was stacked from neck to navel with boxes of harmless bagels.

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

DAYS UNTIL THE SUPERVIRUS GOES GLOBAL: 16:10:41

Josh flipped the screwdriver over and used the rounded end to tap the battery into place before snapping the back of the meter shut. “Catalyst. It’s a girlie rebellion name. I hate it.”

“We voted on it,” Ian said.

“Yeah, when I was in the bathroom. Real democratic of you.”

“That’s what troubles you out of all this?”

“Catalyst, because we were pushed to this.” Josh used his highest octave to create a whiny, nasal impersonation of Stormy, which was so dead on Ian snorted a sip of his soda and choked.

“Seriously,” Josh said. “We’re going up against a huge corporation with half of nothing in equipment and against supers. They’re legitimate threats. I mean, T-2 would probably be easier to kill.”

“And less messy,” Ian said.

“So, you see my point?”

“No, not at all.”

“We should have a name that accurately describes the lethality of our mission. What she did is like renaming the Navy Seals, the Dark Blue Dolphins.”

“You just listed multiple, ever present threats to your life,” Ian said. “And that’s what you’re worried about? A name?”

Purdy walked in and set an oversized bag of dog food down against the kitchen island. “Where’s Stormy?”              

“She’s out running again,” Josh said. “I don’t know how she does it, running with that rifle. She’s going have to quit being so obvious when they start enforcing the statewide curfew.”

Purdy walked to the screen door and scanned the perimeter for her. “What curfew?”

“The one the governor announced at a press conference this morning,” Ian said. “To stop the spread of the Super-flu. Starts tonight.”

“Seriously though, Stormy’s got some kind of PTSD or victim’s syndrome or something,” Josh said.

“No. She wants some kind of victim’s syndrome,” Ian said. “That would be less dramatic than what she’s got going on.”

“I thought she was coming out of it until she went to Manger,” Josh said. “The news reports of the CDC going door-to-door in the subdivisions near the Business District didn’t help. She’s got full-blown shell shock like before.”

“Yeah, she’s having nightmares again,” Ian said. “One after another from the sound of it.”

“You don’t think one of you should be keeping an eye on her?” Purdy asked.

Josh pointed over his shoulder. “Killer is.”

Purdy shook his head and punched the screen door open. Before he made it down the porch steps, he had already insulted all their female ancestors, both living and dead.

***

Stormy held her breath as she hopped over a grass snake. She spent the next hundred yards trying to get her breathing rhythm back and the image of the serpent out of her head. It returned in full force every time she blinked. The animals, the serene evenings, it was all supposed to be peaceful. Sometimes it was. But lately, it all seemed wrong. Purdy cautioned that when the birds and animals left they should start worrying. Ever since that nature lesson, Stormy hated the birds. Now they seemed to be mocking her, their haunting songs forewarning that they would still be alive when all the humans were all dead and gone.

Everything was off. She tried not to admit that Manger had shaken her up, but deep down she knew. If this was Reamer reloaded, she expected to come out of it in a few days. All she wanted was to find a way to expedite the process of getting back on track. That meant doing more of the things that cleared her head: running and firing.

She loved running before Reamer, but not this much. Her times had never been better either. Even though this was the only real source of joy she had left, it was not apparent in her demeanor. A stone expression, chiseled anger lines across a scowl, nostrils flaring on every other step, that didn’t come off like unadulterated contentment. It wasn’t the picture of bliss on the outside, but inside it was an adrenaline-fueled fire of temporary relief.

It had become difficult to distinguish her intuition from her imagination, which resulted in confusion and a raging obsession with looking over her shoulder. She fought it all day long. Black circles burrowed under her eyes. Her neck hairs gave off false alerts. They stood on end, but no one was ever behind her. Ian thought she was losing it. Sometimes, she thought he was right.

Fueled in part by aggression, a measure by her insurmountable loss, and a good dose of fear, Stormy took on the path. There was no solace here. She had run this course enough times to know. Aside from drowning herself in the drink, she couldn’t figure out another way to make her nerves settle. Deep down, she knew her brain would never kick back out of overdrive.

The future haunted her. No matter where she was or what she was doing, she knew the clock was ticking. She ran from things she knew didn’t exist here at Aranchea, things she hadn’t extended an open invitation to yet. But her actions would call them forth soon enough. And on that day, a hive of tattered supers was going to rip this quiet house apart, pull her sanctuary down around her and stop at nothing to kill the people she loved. Then they would stalk and eagerly consume her.

Although the supers were whom she ran from, and who kept her from getting any sleep at night, they weren’t the ones she spent her waking hours plotting against. She knew how to take them down. The win she yearned for, the one she trained all hours for, was nearly out of reach. She wanted to annihilate Cold World. She wanted those sons of bitches dead and gone and she wanted to be the one that did them in. This pressing goal drove her feet forward when they begged for relief and sated her when she ran out of breath. To hell with her emotions, she didn’t need them anymore.

What wasn’t already dead inside her belonged to Matt. Her heart broke over him and then, like a phoenix, rebuilt itself and hurt all over again. That God forsaken day, when the angels turned their backs on the souls in Reamer Towers, never really ended for her. Every night since, she reached out for him in her sleep. Her grasp always met the edge of a cold mattress.

The guys didn’t think she had it in her to kill him. Most of the time she knew they were right. Matt’s face was trapped inside her every blink. Tears lined her cheeks. They were byproducts of her thoughts processing. Now only a hundred yards from the house, she needed to cut that shit out. She slowed her pace to give herself time to pull it together.

Purdy never told her why he met her on the porch or why he felt the need to give her a fierce hug. That didn’t stop her from holding onto him like he was carrying her out of a burning building.

Purdy let her go when Josh came looking for him. Questions burned in Josh’s eyes, but other than that, he was the picture of indifference. “Hey, I’ll help you unload the supplies before the curfew Nazis get here,” Josh said.

All the tension Stormy ran off came back tenfold when he mentioned the curfew. “I’m going to take a shower,” she said as she headed inside.

Killer missed the screen door by a second. He stared longingly at Purdy and pawed at the door. Stormy called to him, but he ignored her. She gave up and poured a glass of water.

Ian stood with his hands on his hips. “Check it out. I’ve been healed.”

It took a moment for Stormy to put it together and then she noticed his bandage free leg. “Awesome. Just in time for the statewide curfew.”

“Guns are here.” Purdy dropped the box marked “aircraft struts” inside the door and darted back outside. “And the curfew Nazis are out.”

The screen door slammed. Killer skirted out of the way and missed his window of opportunity again. His ears slumped.              

Purdy came right back. “Ya’ll come around front and get a load of this shit.”

They assembled in the front yard in time to watch a police cruiser crawl by with its loudspeaker screaming a looped recorded message:

“By order of the governor, a statewide curfew is in effect until further notice. Do not leave your dwellings. Should you require emergency medical attention, contact local authorities. If you or anyone in your residence shows signs of infectious disease, hang a white cloth across your window. Thank you for your cooperation.”

The cruiser did one painfully slow pass. Once it was out of sight, a silver vehicle crept up the gravel drive. Purdy’s eyes said it all as he watched Stan pull himself out of the bucket seat. The Celica sat on fifteens, barely inches off the ground. The tachometer reported over 200k, but Stormy knew those cars welcomed the miles.              

“This is the one Phoenix set up?” she asked.

“It is,” Stan said.

“I told you to buy something fast,” Purdy said. “Not another POS.”

“You said no more cargo vans.”

“For Christ’s sake.”

“I know, I know. Look, it may be a Celica, but it’s got a turbo and we’re on a budget, okay?”

Purdy’s fingers drifted on and off his chin. “I’m going to cry every time I drive that dyke car.”

“Well, you can start weeping tomorrow. It’s your turn to get groceries.” Stan tossed the keys to Purdy. “And pick a new county this time. We can’t get into any habits.”

“I don’t want to be seen anywhere in that car, definitely not twice.” Purdy grumbled as he leaned in the Celica’s window. “He’s got no damn sense.”

Stormy had more important things to do. She had to get back inside. But intrigue overtook her. She watched Purdy lean farther and farther inside the Celica. He was nearly on the other side before he gave in and opened the door. She giggled as she watched him inspect, complain, and then inspect again.

“Man, I don’t even fit, Stan,” Purdy shouted out the window as his hands smacked against the steering wheel. “Come get me out of this thing. Damn it.”

He didn’t fit. The car looked like a child’s sweater bulging around his enormous frame. Purdy wrenched himself back out of the car, but left it unlocked with the windows down.

“Please, Lord, let this damn car get stolen tonight,” Purdy said. “Stan, if you ever bring another mouse car home, I’m going to run you over with it, then bury your body in a dress and stripper heels.”

That was the breaking point. Stan crossed his arms over his chest. His boots dug into the drive and his mouth curled into a crooked smile as he went in for a low blow. “Mina asked about you again today.”

“Ya’ll leave me alone about my personal life. Worry about your own love life . . . or how to get one.”

Stan tried to hide his smile, but he sucked at it.

Josh snickered until Ian elbowed him. “What? I can’t help it. It’s funny.”

“Mina doesn’t think it’s funny,” Stan said. “She’s serious.”

“What are you talking about?” Stormy asked.

“Don’t worry about it,” Purdy said.

“Her, don’t worry about her,” Ian corrected.

“Troy’s sister is—”

“None of your business. I’m serious. Damn it, Stan.”

Stan grinned and shook his head at Purdy. “I guess it’s complicated.”

“What?” Stormy asked. “Tell me.”

Josh smacked his palms together. “Sorry, this is too good. You know how Purdy doesn’t like anyone but Killer? Well that was true, but not now.”

“I don’t like her like that,” Purdy said.

“Whatever Purdy. Everybody can see it,” Stan said.

“So anyways, the other day, Troy and Mina brought some supplies. You were out running,” Josh said. “I don’t think she was helping. She just wanted to get off the compound. So Purdy walked by, saw Mina, and tried to talk to her. It was so funny.”

“She shut him down,” Ian said.

“How do you know, punk? You weren’t there.”

“Didn’t have to be,” Josh said. “We have eyes in the sky.”

“It was truly hysterical, Purdy,” Ian said. “Sorry.”

“I don’t like ya’ll knowing everything and seeing everything like that.”

Ian laughed hard. “You’re the one who put in the cameras, dip shit.”

Purdy’s eyes narrowed the minute the words left Ian’s mouth.

“I didn’t mean that the way it sounded,” Ian said.

“Yeah.” Stan laughed. “He meant the nicer version of dip shit.”

“You know she wants me.”

“Coming from years of experience,” Josh said. “When a girl walks away while you’re still talking, it doesn’t mean she’s interested.”

Stan’s smile grew. “You all saw that too?”

Purdy crossed his arms. It was the first time he had been rendered speechless in an argument with the guys. What was bizarre was that he was happy. Stormy could tell, even though he was doing his damnedest to hide it.

The showdown ended in a cordial impasse and everything was back to normal by the following morning, normal except the festering questions Stormy had about the replacement car. When the M-RAP died, they purchased a cargo van and now they owned a Celica. Massive sums of money kept appearing out of thin air. She wanted to know how.

Josh cruised into the kitchen fifteen minutes behind his scheduled show time. She seized the moment. “Morning, Josh.”