Contagious (31 page)

Brad knelt down to open a drawer of the cabinet next to Dustin’s cot.
Dustin grabbed the back of Doc Harper’s neck and head-butted him in the nose. Before Harper even slid off the stool, Dustin picked up his M4 with both hands.
Brad turned his head to see what was happening, just in time to catch an M4 stock right in the mouth. He sagged to his left butt cheek, mouth bleeding, staring out with eyes that didn’t really focus on anything. Dustin hit him again. Brad fell to his back, arm resting awkwardly against the open medicine drawer.
Dustin looked down at the two men. Doc Harper blinked like mad. Tears poured from his eyes, and blood gushed from the bridge of his broken nose. He tried to back away, a reverse crab-walk, but he couldn’t seem to send enough strength to his feet. The heels of his shoes pushed weakly at the floor.
Dustin pulled his zip-ties from his pants pocket.
“Does that hurt, Doc?” Dustin said. “Let me kiss it and make it all better.”
Chelsea let her
mind spread farther and farther. This was
so
cool. Better than all her best toys combined. She’d
felt
Dustin hit those men, like she had been there, like she had hit them herself.
She liked it. It was really fun.
Every time she spread her mind, the feeling got stronger, the connections got stronger. Each host, each dolly, each converted person—they all felt a little different. Kind of like how vanilla ice cream tastes one way and chocolate another way. That was it; each had its own
taste.
Dustin was a long ways away, but she could still connect with him. She could connect with Bernadette Smith, too, with each of the three dollies growing in her body.
Those three tasted like anger. Anger and fear.
Sending Bernadette to the highway worked, but Chelsea had thought the soldiers would shoot the woman. Chelsea even had Bernadette kill her daughters and bring the knife. But the devils captured Bernadette, and that was bad.
Bernadette’s dollies were growing so
fast
! Maybe soon they would come out to play, come out to build. Chelsea sensed needles poking into them, so many needles. Just like the doctor had always stuck needles into her. Poking, prodding, testing. Dollies didn’t feel pain like she did, though. The needles were really just kind of annoying to them.
So why were they so scared and angry? None of the other dollies tasted like that. Chelsea concentrated on those three dollies, listened to their thoughts, and she found the answer.
The sonofabitch.
The
boogeyman
.
They were staring
right at
the boogeyman! Of course they were angry, of course they were afraid. Chelsea felt a stab of that same fear, a stab of that same anger. Chauncey had told her not to connect to the boogeyman, but that was before. She was stronger now. The dollies were so close to the boogeyman, maybe only a few feet away. She could connect through them and
talk
to him.
The boogeyman made Chelsea afraid. That wasn’t fair.
Now it was
his
turn to be scared.
FACING HIS PAST
Perry Dawsey had never been claustrophobic. Then again, he’d never been crammed into a full-body suit obviously not made for someone his size, then walked into a friggin’ semi trailer so jam-packed with stuff he had to turn sideways to walk through these pitiful excuses for aisles.
But claustrophobia was the least of his concerns. The naked woman in the clear glass containment cell took up most of his attention.
Her, and what was on her.
In
her.
Tight restraints held her wrists, ankles and waist. She was crying. Perry felt shame wash over him, shame at how he’d treated Fatty Patty. He’d screamed at Patty. He’d hit her.
Cut
her. Watched her die, hoping that in the process he could learn something that might help him save himself. He hadn’t even been a man then.
Milner was right.
Perry was a monster.
The woman in the chamber pulled weakly against the leather straps.
“Those restraints tight?” Dew asked Margaret.
“Goddamn right they are,” Margaret said. “I put those on myself. Any tighter and she’d lose circulation.”
Margaret’s voice sounded colder than before. Colder and
harder
, as though maybe cutting off that woman’s circulation wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world after all. That wasn’t the voice she’d used when she was helping him recover, or sewing up the cuts Dew had given him. Then she’d sounded like she cared, like she really wanted to help. Now? Now she had a touch of disgust in her voice. Maybe even a slight helping of hate.
“Please,” the woman sobbed. “Please, let me go. I swear, I won’t tell anyone.”
“Try to relax, Bernadette,” Margaret said. “We want to help you.”
“
LIAR
!” the woman screamed. “You’re the
POLICE
!
You want to cut me up!
”
She couldn’t move anything but her head, so move it she did, thrashing it around as if she were being electrocuted. Her sweaty brown hair flew in all directions. Her face carried an expression of wide-eyed terror one second, psychotic fury the next, then back again.
The triangles stared out. With their black eyes, they could have been looking anywhere, but Perry knew they were looking right at him.
Sonofabitch.
You will die. Your death will be worse than the rest.
Perry took a half step back. That sensation of grayness remained, but whatever was jamming him, it didn’t work this close to a triangle. He hadn’t expected that—he’d hoped to come in, not hear a thing, then get the fuck out.
Perry didn’t realize he was shaking until he felt a hand on his shoulder.
“Take it easy, Perry,” Dew said. “They can’t get to you.”
“I gotta get out of here, Dew. I gotta get out.”
Dew’s voice stayed low. Low and calm. “What you gotta do is focus. We need to talk to these things. We need the location of the next gate, and you’re the only one who can get it.”
“But Dew—”
“Listen to me,” Dew said. “Sometimes we have to do things we don’t want to. You can’t bring Bill back, but this is your chance to make it right. You
have
to take it.”
Dew was right. Dew had fought, had sacrificed. He wasn’t asking Perry to do anything he wouldn’t do himself.
“Can they hear me in there?” Perry asked.
Margaret nodded. “There are speakers in the cell. The microphone in your earpiece picks up your voice. They can hear you just fine.”
Perry nodded inside the helmet. Now he was grateful for the suit, because if he pissed himself no one would see. He cleared his throat. For some reason he remembered the punch line to an old joke:
It’s sure not gonna suck itself
.
No more waiting.
“I’m supposed to talk to you,” he said. “Figure out what you want.”
We want
kill you. You are the destroyer.
Full sentences. Punctuation. Soon they would tear free from the woman’s body.
“Where is the next gate?”
Nothing.
“You want to . . . open up the door, I know that. What’s going to come through?”
Ayyynnngellls.
Angels. Coming through the gate. Perry had never heard that from his own triangles, and there was something profoundly disturbing about it.
The angels
are coming. People build for them," just like we do. We’re going to make your life a living hell,"just like we do. We’re going to make your life a living hell, and that’s what you deserve, you cheating bastard.
They seemed different, different from his own triangles, the ones he had called the Magnificent Seven. Different from Fatty Patty’s triangles and hatchlings. These three sounded feminine, but caustic, angry. Perry wondered what Bernadette Smith’s personality had been like before the infections. Something told Perry there was one word for it—
bitch.
“What did they say?” Dew asked.
“Hard to tell,” Perry said. “I think whatever is coming through wants to make us build things.”
“Build things?” Dew said. He spoke louder, as if that would held him be heard inside the containment cell. “What are we going to build for you?”
You’ll do
what you’re told or you’ll get the paddle.
“They’re not going to say what it is,” Perry said. “I can tell. So much hate, derision coming off them . . . I think they want to make us slaves.”
“Oh fuck that,” Dew said. “The Jewells. Ask them where the Jewells are, see if you get any vibes.”
Kill him.
Get the gun, kill kill kill.
Perry stared at them, waiting to feel the rush of violent desire.
But he didn’t feel anything.
He’d beaten them. Dew was right, he
could
do this.
“Where is the Jewell family?” Perry said, his voice growing a little stronger with each word. “Bobby Jewell, Candice Jewell, Chelsea Jewell.
Where are they?”
Perry locked onto their jet-black eyes. Nothing.
And then he heard a voice. Not the triangles, something new.
Something cold.
I think you should leave the Jewell family alone.
A little girl’s voice. Clear,
human,
but in his head.
You’re scared, aren’t you? You should be scared.
“You’re scared, too,” Perry said. “I can feel it.”
Dew nudged Perry’s shoulder. “What are they saying, kid?”
Kill that man.
“Nothing,” Perry said. “They’re not saying anything.”
I can make you do it. I’m in charge. People have to do what I say.
An intense rage swept through Perry. Oh, God, there it was, that heated lust to
hurt
. The hatchlings couldn’t stir that up in him anymore, but this girl could, and far more powerfully than he’d ever felt before.
Only this time he felt it for Dew Phillips.
Kill him.
Kill him.
“I gotta get out of here,” Perry said. “I can’t be in here.”
“Kid, come on,” Dew said. “Don’t chicken out now. We have to find the Jewells, or at least see if the triangle-whatever will negotiate or something.”
What’s the matter, scaredy-cat? Are you afraid?
Perry shook his head. “No. I got to go. Margaret, whatever you’re going to do, you need to do it quick. They’re going to hatch soon.”
“How do you know?” Margaret asked.
“They’re using complete sentences,” Perry said. “Pauses, like they’re talking with punctuation. They didn’t do that with me until near the end.
You’ve got a day, maybe half a day before they hatch.”
Kill him.
Margaret looked at Bernadette, then back to Perry. “You’re sure about that?”
“Perry, talk to them,” Dew said.
I feel your fear. I’m going to get you . . .
Perry put his hands to his ears, a subconscious effort to block out the voices. His gloved hands hit his helmeted head before he remembered he couldn’t actually
hear
the voices with his ears at all.
“Leave me alone!”
“Okay, kid,” Dew said. “Just take it easy.”
“Don’t worry, Perry,” Margaret said. “We’re going to operate on her right now. We’ll get rid of them.”
Perry had to turn his whole body so he could look at Margaret. She seemed so small, a tiny face swimming inside that big helmet, like a guppy in a fishbowl. Was she really that naive?
“You know what?” Perry said. “I never thanked you for saving my life.”
He turned and opened the airlock door. The light changed from green to red. He walked out. Dew followed, shutting the door behind them both.
Margaret stared at
the red/green light above the airlock door for a few seconds, irrationally worried it wouldn’t change from red back to green, that she wouldn’t be able to open the door again and that Bernadette might tear free from the trolley at any moment. When it finally turned back to green, Margaret realized she’d been holding her breath.
“Margo, you okay?” Clarence asked.
“Fine,” she said.
“Man,” Clarence said. “That guy is soooo messed up.”
“Yes, he is,” Margaret said. “It’s got to be hard to see triangles again. So disturbing to see them for anyone . . . I can’t imagine what’s it’s like for Perry. Despite that, aside from what he just had to endure, I think he’s making progress. It was nice of him to finally thank me for saving him.”
“That’s not what he said. He said he
never
thanked you. I don’t think he wanted to live.”
She started to correct Clarence but stopped herself. Maybe he was right. Perry Dawsey’s life wasn’t exactly a bed of roses.
“It doesn’t matter, because I
did
save him.” She jerked her thumb toward Bernadette. “And I’m going to save her, too. Now, please help me prep this woman for surgery. If Perry’s right, we don’t have much time.”
“We need to go back to the control room first,” Clarence said. “We need to talk to Murray.”
“Why the hell do we need to talk to Murray? We need to get moving, hon. Every second counts.”
“Please, Margaret,” Clarence said. “This is already complicated enough.
We have to make sure the president is informed. Doctor Dan needs to suit up, anyway. He can prep the patient while we tell Murray what’s going on. Okay?”
She didn’t have time for this. But then again, keeping the wheels greased was part of the program. Gutierrez wanted to pretend he was in control? She could play that game, but only for so long.
“I’ll talk to him,” she said. “But you’ve got fifteen minutes, hon. Then I’m operating no matter what. We’re going to need all hands for this. We might have to work as two separate teams simultaneously, Dan and Marcus on the heart, Gitsh and I on the hip.”
“Sure,” Clarence said quietly. “I’ll get everyone ready. You get back to the control room, okay?”
Margaret nodded. She squeezed his gloved hand, then opened the airlock door and walked out.
“Perry, wait up.”
Dew tried to run after him, but the biohazard suit combined with his aching hip and popping knees made that practically impossible.
Perry kept walking. Even though he had a limp of his own, his long strides quickly carried him into the darkness of the Jewell family’s expansive property.
Dew stopped and put his hand on his hips. He was too old for this crap.
“Perry!
Come on
.”
Perry stopped and turned.
“Stay there for a second,” Dew said. “Better yet, come back here.”
Perry glared at Dew, then walked, big steps bringing him back just as fast as they’d taken him away.
“What was that all about?” Dew asked. “Those things are behind glass, and they haven’t even hatched yet. I know they’re freaky, but come on, you have to be stronger than that.”
“It’s not them,” Perry said. “It’s . . . something else.”