Catalyst (Book 1): Decay Chains (21 page)

CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

DAY ONE—SUPERVIRUS UNLEASHED IN: 00:00:05

Josh’s earpiece dug into his cheek. He fumbled with it, but found no relief. “We should leave her.”

“No. She’d find us,” Ian said.

“Yeah, but the super version of her may die easier.”

“Doubt it. That may increase her won’t-freaking-die human gene. The virus apparently amplifies most characteristics and genetic predispositions. She’d be harder to take out.”

“Why won’t she freaking die?”

“No telling. But the next time we save a girl from supers, I’m asking her about her employment history first. No more project manager Nazis.”

“Seriously though, I guess you’re right. We can’t ditch her. We’re freaking awesome super hunters. Heroes forming a rebellion. Those types don’t leave women behind. Not even drill sergeant women.”

“Yeah, but her project manager crap is starting to get old. Don’t you miss your WOW time?”

“I got my WOW time back.”

“She let you play WOW at night, but she deducted that time from our slotted bathroom breaks,” Ian said.

Josh shrugged it off. “Yeah, but it’s only twenty minutes. I just drink less soda in the morning so I don’t have to go as often.”

“It was still a cheat move. She told you that you could have the time back, but didn’t say she was pulling it from somewhere else. Seriously, the whole stupid schedule has to go.”

“I thought the schedule was over. Our operation has started, why would we need the schedule anymore?”

“I guess if we live through this we’ll find out if the schedule’s being rescinded.”

“If we live through this, we’ll demand the schedule be destroyed.”

“This is a bad idea.”

“I know.”

“Tell her to abort.”

“She won’t listen to me.”

“She won’t listen to me either.”

“She doesn’t understand the words: no, it can’t be done, that’s impossible. None of that. It’s all meaningless to her.”

“I have to piss.”

Ian pointed to the empty Gatorade bottle in the passenger floorboard. “That’s what the bottle is for.”             

“I’m not pissing in that fucking bottle.”

“Oh, shit. Look at that.” Ian fumbled with his earpiece. He flipped a switch and set everyone to hot mic. “Stormy, your boyfriend’s back. You want us to take care of him?”

Stormy came up live on the other end. “You’ll give away your location. Cold World might not make a move.”

“You want me to at least make it to where he’s alone?” Ian asked.

Josh breathed into his mic like an obese phone stalker.

“Are you sure it’s him?”

“Looks like the Facebook pictures you showed us, with an undead makeover.”

“How many are with him?”

“A whole damn nest it looks like.”

“Let them head in.”

Josh shook his head. “She’s fucking crazy.”

“You’re still on hot mic,” Stormy said.

Josh covered his mic with his hand while he mumbled. From the cab of their cargo-van, Ian and Josh watched Matt walk past, followed by six ravenous supers.

“I wonder if he keeps them like that so they’ll fight harder,” Ian said.

“You think he can withhold feeding from them?” Josh asked.

“Well, you’re the one who’s supposed to be watching his movements. You tell me.”

“I’ve only been tracking his movements. I can’t see inside walls to know what he does.”

“Well, they’re definitely starving and Matt looks rather content. It doesn’t add up. He’s not stronger than them, only smarter.”

“Stormy, something’s up,” Josh said. We should call this off.”

“No way in hell. How close is he?”

“I’m sure you’ll know when he’s there. You shouldn’t be worried about us scaring Cold World off. It’s him and his Party Rock gang that will seal the deal.”

“That’s if they aren’t working together with Cold World,” Josh said.             

“I would’ve figured that out,” Ian said. “They’re not in on this together.”

“I hear them,” Stormy said.

Ian sat up straighter. His long arms wound around the steering wheel and his excessively long breaths fogged the windshield.

Stormy rested her upper body on her forearms and watched the entrance to Vallexor Industries from the small slots in the ceiling air vent. Everyone was in place. Purdy squatted in the back of a janitor’s closet three feet from the delivery door in the back of the building. His eyes and ears were Ian and Josh who remained relatively safe, per their request, in the cargo van parallel parked out front. Stan was bored stiff, but not as stiff as Stormy, given her tight confines in the air duct. He had been riding the elevator up and down for nearly two hours straight. He was getting impatient and customers had even started asking him directions. Ian saw the bright side, and suggested that after Catalyst, Stan pursue a career as a doorman. Stan was even more pissed when he realized that he was cut off from comms whenever he left the first floor. His position was critical, regardless of the comm outage. He was staked out in Vallexor’s only elevator.

They had been over the plan so much, it was tattooed to Stormy’s brain. Stop Cold World at the door and run interference on Matt. The latest intel suggested the attack would go the same way as last time, but the radius would be five and a half miles out due to advances in the biochemical agent, and the fact that Vallexor had ten less floors than Reamer. Vallexor was closer to the ground, which improved agent dispersal. The gods were on Catalyst’s side though. It had been drizzling since last night and that was bad for biochemical agents.

Stormy knew Matt couldn’t see her, but still wondered if he felt her there. He flashed through the revolving door and that familiar surge of emotion swarmed her bloodstream. She closed her eyes and felt his presence. Being near him transported her to a time only weeks prior, when that feeling held her whole world together. A time when it was comforting, enticing to know he was in the same room. A time before he made the hairs on her neck stand up and her finger itch for a trigger. When her adrenaline took over again, the hearts fluttered out of her head and she craved the smell of spent shells.

She opened her eyes and steadied her breathing. Matt’s every move was framed in her sights, especially the questionable ones. The air duct wasn’t her first choice, but it offered a superb aerial view. She pulled her headset off and set it aside in case she had to don her chem mask. Nothing was going to derail her today. Absolutely nothing.

Matt panned around the room once and then looked back at his supers. One was poking around in the revolving door. The others crept from behind him in opposite directions down the halls. He reached for the one closest to him and head-butted her so hard their skulls cracked.

Stormy didn’t flinch, didn’t move, and didn’t breathe.              

In life, Matt’s biggest problem had been overestimating his control. That vice hadn’t been conquered in death either, but now it was a lethal issue. He couldn’t chase all of the supers down. He had to choose left or right. Stormy cringed as Matt headed right, nabbed the supers from that direction and pressed on to the elevator. She leveled her gun through the vent and aimed at him. All the proof she needed that Matt was gone was right before her eyes. He went right when he should’ve gone left. Left was the direction two of his supers had chosen and she knew he saw the woman and little boy in their path.

She released the safety and waited for Matt to walk into her sights. She could swing the AR-15 side to side along the vent all she wanted, but he had to come closer for her to make the shot. She couldn’t drop the weapon any lower or she would have to reposition along the grate. He moved fast, but Stormy was ready. She had made this right mentally. Her heart could work it out on the way home.

Matt was in the upper end of her sight when the woman screamed at horror-movie pitch. Stormy couldn’t stop her eyes from peeling off the sight.

Run, bitch. What’s wrong with you?

The woman didn’t grab her kid up and run. Instead, she froze against the wall and let the supers corner her. Hands up like shields over her son’s tiny body, she stood there and screamed at them.

Damn.

Stormy had a split second, but she didn’t need most of it. She slung the AR-15 to the left and let loose. The first shot was gone and the shell had already rolled down the duct when she heard Matt bark at his clueless followers. Five rounds and forty-five seconds later, both supers bled and twitched on the floor. The elevator dinged its arrival, signaling that Matt was now officially Stan’s problem.

Both woman and boy had peed themselves, but were otherwise unharmed. The emergency alarm sprang into action thirty seconds later and let Stormy in on a major oversight. The flasher hung off the ceiling a foot in front of her. With every rotation, red fluorescents blinded her.

Crowds converged on the revolving door. Silent time was over. She grabbed the mic first, and then slapped the rest of her gear into her pockets as she retreated down the duct. Purdy should’ve made her practice low crawling backward. Her legs would’ve been more prepared. Her headset buzzed with chatter the moment it hit her ear.

“I’m almost out,” she said.

“What was with the shots?” Josh asked.

“Missed Matt, but I stopped a super schmorgesborg.”

“Purdy’s in route. He’s around the corner.”

“I hear screaming. Either he’s there or he’s late.”

“He’s probably visible. You know how he looks when he runs with that gun.”

“Matt’s in the elevator. Purdy needs to get to Stan.”

“Purdy, what’s your status?” Ian asked.

The feed faded out for a second and came back gritty.

“Purdy?”

Out of nowhere, the feed returned at an eardrum-bursting decibel. It couldn’t have been at a worse time either. It filled everyone’s ears with the sounds of someone being taken out and the guy wasn’t being graceful about it.

Purdy was out of breath when he came on a minute later. Stormy kept moving and dropped out of the duct while he spoke.

“What, man?”

Purdy was annoyed but alive, and that was all she cared about.

“How close are you to the elevator?” Ian asked.

“I’m right in front of it, but I ain’t getting in.”

“Why not? The crowd?” Josh asked.

“No man,” Purdy said. “You seen Cold World yet?”

“Actually, no,” Josh said.

“That’s cause they’re already here. They hopped the elevator,” Purdy said. “We ain’t waiting for it to come back down.”

“Where’s Stan?” Stormy asked.

“He’s right here,” Purdy said.

“Stan?” Stormy said.

The vent flap lay open above her head. She stood atop an executive’s desk. Her footprints from the night prior were stamped on his daily agenda. She smeared them when she hopped off the desk.

“Yeah, he can’t hear you,” Purdy said. “His headset was damaged.”

“Is he okay?” she asked.

“He’ll be fine. He’s says his comms are going in and out.”

“I think Matt’s headed to the roof.”

“He’s already there,” Purdy said. “We’re on our way up. Taking those good old stairs you all love so much.”

“I’ll see you there.”

As soon as the office door clicked open, familiar sounds filled her ears. At first, she thought it was a flashback, another memory faking her out. She scanned her surroundings and all she saw was Reamer. The delay could cost her everything. She fought her unresponsive hands, and forced them to unfreeze and pull her chem mask over her head. Her fingers twitched and her side wrought with familiar pangs. The world contracted. Stretchers and wheelchairs replaced panicked people in lined suits. Heels clicked across terrazzo floors, but they sounded more like automatic gunfire devastating a skyscraper.

Lifetimes elapsed and she didn’t blink in-between. When she finally remembered to do so, her eyes corrected themselves. Chem mask in place, she yanked at the straps, checked her seal, and yanked her hoodie over her head. The mask’s view was grimmer than she anticipated. She had never seen the agent at work before.

The lined suits bloodied their fists against the elevator and collapsed feet from the stairs. Some faces were bright red, the rest were a bruised purple. Stormy dove at the elevator and banged the button with the butt of her weapon. She wanted to watch the numbers change, but her eyes went everywhere else, in search of a place the agent couldn’t find. As the numbers dropped, she pulled her gloves on. The elevator doors weren’t all the way open when she dove in. They slid closed while she dragged two female suits inside. She knew they wouldn’t make it. Their skin peeled in ribbons. Agony replaced their soprano voices, but she wasn’t about to close the elevator in their burned faces.

If they didn’t die well on their own she would help them along. Surely, the elevator would reach the roof before they changed. She set the timer on her watch. The next twenty minutes were the most crucial. She couldn’t let anything happen to the seal on her mask. Neither could the guys, no matter what.