Ejecta (29 page)

“Here we go,” the voice said. “Grab on Flo... We'll toss this one over the bank first. And let this be a lesson to you. This sonofabitch followed you home. You've got to be more careful, babe. There's all sorts of whackos out there.”

Palmer sat up, opened his eyes, and brought the knife around. The man with the piggy eyes, heavily veined nose, and bushy beard was bent over and facing Palmer. The blade sank into his neck. It came as a complete surprise judging from the wide-eyed expression that appeared on his face. Warm blood sprayed the area as Palmer jerked on the knife and cut the internal jugular as well. Just the way the marines had taught him to.

In that split second the man's hands went up to his throat and a shadow fell across both of them. Palmer rolled left. There was a crash as a rock fell on the metal tray.

Palmer found himself next to the dead body as Flo turned and went looking for another rock. After a quick pat down he found the chrome plated revolver in a the man's jacket pocket and attempted to remove it. The hammer caught in the fabric, and he had just managed to free it, when Flo returned. She was holding what looked like a two-hundred pound chunk of limestone over her head as she waddled forward.

“Stop!” Palmer instructed, as he brought the pistol up. “I know you can hear me Florence. I spoke with your mother. She loves you. And I know about the parasite. I can get help. Please... Listen to me.”

But Florence wouldn't listen. Or
couldn't
listen. Palmer back pedaled, tripped, and landed on his ass. He fired. Florence was forced to pause as the first bullet hit her chest. But she still managed to keep the rock aloft as she staggered towards him. Then, as the second and third slugs hit, her knees gave out and the weight of the stone drove her to the ground.

Palmer just sat there for a moment, the pain pounding in his head, as a truck roared past on the other side of the coach. It took an act of will to stand, climb up into the motor home, and make his way to the front. A cell phone was sitting on the center console with a map underneath it. Paper rattled as he opened the map all the way. An orange highlighter had been used to draw a snaking line from Portland to another major city. Nexus? The place where all of the parasites were headed? That was a distinct possibility.

Palmer flipped the cell phone open, entered Cooper's number and heard it ring. He half expected it to go to voice mail and was extremely pleased when it didn't. The response was understandably cautious since the agent had never seen the incoming number before. “Yeah?”

“This is Palmer. I'm somewhere in Oregon. That's what I assume anyway. Although it's hard to tell since I've been under lock and key since last night. And I've got three bodies to dispose of. One of them is, or was a host, and the other two were members of the gang that broke into the convention center in Portland.”

There was a moment of silence before Cooper responded. “Didn't I tell you not to play cop?”

“Yeah,” Palmer replied wearily. “I'm real sorry about that. Feel free to dock my pay. Have you got anything on Sara?”

“She's been hopping trains. But we don't know where she's going.”

Palmer felt a surge of hope. Devlin's infection was relatively recent compared to Kelty's. That was his theory anyway. So maybe the doctors could remove the parasite.
If
they got to her quickly enough. “I think I know where she's going,” Palmer said. “In fact I think I know where
all
of them are going. The dead host I told you about was headed for New Orleans.”

“That's interesting,” Cooper replied. “
Very,
interesting. Keep that cell phone on. We'll track the signal and be there as soon as we can.”

Palmer was about to reply when Cooper broke the connection.

***

Southeast of Los Angeles, California

They had made good progress. Or so it seemed to Nail, as he skidded down a steep embankment, into the train yard below. There was a town half a mile to the east. A nothing place centered around a big water tank where the residents looked at him suspiciously but were happy to take Sara’s money. The newly purchased items were safely stowed in his pack where they wouldn’t attract attention from the law or the other tramps who were camped in the area. His tail was clean, or that’s what the drifter assumed, as he followed the tracks north. Still, Nail knew how dangerous assumptions could be. So he went over to sit on some railroad ties and smoke a cigarette. If anyone was dogging his footsteps they would probably show themselves.

The smoke tasted good, the air was a lot warmer than it had been up north, and things were going as well as they ever did for the teenager. Sara was a good companion in most respects. She never drank. Never did drugs. And never ate more than her share of the food. Of course there were a few negatives too. Starting with a recent tendency to snore, steadily deteriorating hygiene, and the fact that she was weird. And getting weirder all the time.

Still, what could someone like him expect? Within a week or two it would be time to part company with Sara. The question was whether to steal what remained of the money or let her keep it. Maybe some sort of compromise was in order. He could steal
half
the money and leave the rest. Yes, that was fair Nail decided. Especially in light of their friendship.

Being satisfied with his plan, and not having seen any signs of pursuit, Nail flipped the cigarette butt out onto the tracks. Then, having slipped his thumbs under the pack straps to take some of the pressure off his shoulders, the youngster followed a rusty siding back to where an old caboose sat surrounded by a cluster of trees. It had been set on fire at least once and put out. But the interior was still intact.

Nail whistled to let Sara know he was back, climbed up a set of weather beaten stairs, and entered the main compartment. The woman was there, just as he expected her to be, staring into space. “Hey, Sara,” the young man said cheerfully, as he shrugged the pack off his shoulders. “How’s it going? I’ve got some goodies for you! How does Spam sound for dinner? I know you like that…. And look! I bought two boxes of ammo. One for the .38—and one for the twenty-two. You shoulda seen the look the woman in the store gave me. But hey, this is America, so no problem.”

***

Devlin was used to the chatter and found it soothing as she plucked a rock out of an old coffee can and licked it. The odds of scoring a chemical hit, of finding a mate laying next to the tracks were millions to one, but doing so kept the parasite happy. And keeping it happy was very important. Each rock made a
clattering
noise as she tossed it back over her shoulder.

***

“And that ain’t all,” Nail continued. “I know how you like to read so I bought you a paper.”

Devlin eyed the newspaper as it was placed in front of her. It was a copy of
USA Today,
and while not as important as licking rock samples, still worth a moment of her time.

“I thought you’d like that,” Nail said, as his companion opened the paper and began to turn the pages. The story and the accompanying photo of a missing parasitologist named Sara Devlin was on page five above the fold. The first few paragraphs were focused on a corpse found in a river up in Oregon—and the possibility of a connection. It was clear confirmation that the government was looking for her and hoping to get some help from the public.

Nail heard the sound of paper being crumpled into a ball and turned to see Sara shove some of the newspaper into the stove. “That’s right,” he said approvingly, “You start the fire—and I’ll cook the Spam.”

Portland, Oregon

There was a pleasant early morning buzz of conversation in the Benson hotel's formal dining room as Cooper entered and looked around. Palmer spotted the agent and lifted a hand. Cooper made his way over, removed the newspaper he was carrying under his arm, and gave it to Palmer as he sat down. “Take a look at page two.”

Palmer put his coffee cup down, opened the paper, and saw the item in question. The headline read, “Motor home accident kills three.” According to the story a man named Ralph Murty had been behind the wheel of a motor home registered in his name when it left the highway, went over a steep embankment, and exploded just short of the river below. Murty plus passengers Tom Solly and Florence Kelty had been killed and their bodies burned beyond recognition. There was, according to the report, a strong possibility that alcohol had been involved. And police were running ballistics tests to determine if a handgun found in the vehicle had been used in the recent convention center robbery and homicide.

Palmer looked up. “It's all very tidy. And the Blue Moon apartments?”

“Murty's gang took care of that for us. They burned to the ground.”

“That leaves the question of Kelty. Was she infected?”

Cooper nodded. “Yes, she was.”

“So what now?”

“Here,” Cooper said, as he removed an envelope from an inside pocket of his jacket. “You'll find a temporary Arizona driver's license to replace the one you lost. Plus an ID card that identifies you as one of our agents.”

Palmer's eyebrows rose. “Do I get a decoder ring?”

“Nope. But the ID might keep you out of jail if things get nasty. By the way... After evaluating the movements of people believed to be hosts New Orleans looks like a fit. That's where Nexus is if it's anywhere.”

“So Sara is headed there?”

“Probably. We'll try and intercept her. Failing that we'll be waiting when she arrives.”

“Okay, good. But you said things could get nasty. How so?”

“We believe that Chinese agents are already on the ground in New Orleans,” Cooper answered. “With more on the way. They want samples.”

“And you're going to stop them?”

“No,
we're
going to stop them,” Cooper answered as he appropriated a piece of toast from Palmer's plate. “Based on what you were able to accomplish here Dr. Wilson thinks you're an asset. I disagree but he's in charge. Welcome to the team.”

***

San Antonio, Texas

The bulls were out in force as the train pulled into San Antonio, which meant that from the moment Nail and Devlin jumped onto the ground, they were forced to run. And, unlike the security types encountered earlier, these bulls were in good shape. And it seemed as if they were determined to catch the people they were after rather than simply go through the motions. But thanks to Nail’s savvy the fugitives were able to reach a potential exit point, toss their packs over the top of a six-foot high cyclone fence, and scale it before the bulls could catch up.

Nail couldn’t resist flipping his pursuers off, before leading Devlin to the area around Commerce street and an inexpensive motel where they hoped to spend the night. Having ordered Devlin to guard the gear in an alley out back, Nail went about the business of making himself presentable.

A side door allowed Nail to enter the hotel without passing through the lobby. Once inside he went looking for the first floor men’s room where he spent the next fifteen minutes removing as much accumulated grime as he could prior to presenting himself at the front desk.

There were all of the usual questions of course. To which Nail responded with all of the usual lies and a soothing cash deposit. Then it was time to collect Sara and move into what felt like a palace after so many days spent riding the rails and camping out. Then came an orgy of showers, baths, and frenetic channel changing followed by a visit to the local Burger King.

After eating their fill, it was back to the room for a relaxing evening. Nail was looking forward to watching some television while Devlin continued to lick the mineral samples she had accumulated during the last day or so. Each rock made a clattering sound as it fell into a metal trash bucket.

And it was then, while Nail was watching the Simpsons, that Devlin found the piece of rock she’d been looking for. Within moments of sampling the object certain chemicals were detected, analyzed, and approved. The resulting rush was so intense that Devlin uttered a loud and somewhat revelatory groan.

The noise caused Nail to turn and look at her. “Jeez, Sara, what’s going on over there?”

Devlin, who was still enjoying the orgasm's rich afterglow got up out of her chair and crossed the room. “Here,” she said urgently. “Lick.”

“No, thanks,” the teenager replied dismissively, as he wrinkled his nose. “That’s gross!”

“You lick!” Devlin insisted stridently. “You lick
now!”

“No freak’in way,” Nail responded, as he retreated to the far side of the queen sized bed. “Now stop that—you’re scaring me.”

“Lick it! Lick it! Lick it!” Devlin chanted, as she lurched forward.

“Hold it right there,” Nail said, as he brought the .22 up out of her pack. “I don’t want to shoot you, but I sure as hell will, if you don’t back-off.”

The woman kept coming with both hands extended. Kind of like a priest about to grant holy communion. Her eyes were wild, her lips were pulled back from her teeth and, and as she approached Nail pulled the trigger. The .22 went off with a loud
bang
. The bullet hit Devlin high on the left shoulder. That caused her to pause but the impact wasn’t sufficient to stop her.

So he brought the little gun barrel down onto the top of Sara’s head. But whatever it was that granted the woman super-human strength couldn't be overcome so easily. She was forced to drop the mineral sample in order to grab hold of Nail’s wrist and battle him for the pistol. After bashing Nail’s hand into the headboard until he was forced to drop the weapon Devlin threw a leg across his waist and sat on top of him. The fingers of her left hand fastened themselves around the boy’s throat as she fumbled for the rock.

That was when an amazing transformation took place. Nail saw determination and anger flicker through his friend's eyes followed by something softer. “
Run!
” the new entity ordered hoarsely. “Run while you can!”

Nail felt the steely fingers release their grip on his throat, and that was all the youngster needed as he bucked Devlin off, and rolled to the right. Then, having made a successful grab for his pack, Nail dashed across the room. The door opened and slammed loudly behind him.