Invasive Procedures (30 page)

But the door remained closed.

He wondered if the other transplantees had heard—and if so, would they misinterpret the commotion as his attempt at a distraction and make a run for it without him?

He jumped over the Healer nearest the guarded door and pulled on the handle. It didn’t open. A padlock hanging from a crude lock kept it shut tight. Moving quickly, Frank rummaged through Lichen’s clothing and found the key hanging from a chain around his neck. He yanked it free, stuck the key into the padlock, and twisted. The lock snapped free.

Pushing hard on the door, Frank fell into the room.

Wyatt was sitting on a bed in the corner, his legs tucked up against his chest and his eyes wide with terror. He was smaller than Frank had expected, a skinny kid with bright green eyes like his mother’s.

“I’m not going to hurt you, Wyatt. I’m a friend. I’ve come to help you.”

The kid said nothing, only stared.

“I’m here to take you to your mother. We’re going to try to leave this place.” He extended a hand.

Wyatt didn’t flinch. “I don’t know you. You’re a stranger. I’m not supposed to go with strangers.”

“That’s right, Wyatt. You never should. But today is the exception. Do you know what exception means?”

Wyatt raised an eyebrow. “I’m not stupid.”

“Of course you’re not. Listen, I know I’m a stranger, but you have to trust me.”

“Are you a policeman?”

“Something like that, yes.”

“Show me your badge, then.”

This was insane. Healers could be coming at any moment. “I don’t have a badge exactly.”

“Then how do I know you’re a policeman? You’re dressed like one of the bad guys.”

“This is a disguise,” Frank said, opening the cape and showing Wyatt his suit underneath. “See?”

“You’re wearing a suit. Policemen don’t wear suits.”

This had gone on far too long. “Kid, you’re either coming now or not at all. If you still don’t trust me, ask yourself, if I were one of the bad guys, would I have shot those guards in the hall?” He pointed toward the hallway, and Wyatt ran out. The Healers lay sprawled where they had fallen.

Wyatt looked up at Frank with wide eyes. “Whoa. Why didn’t you say so? Let’s go.” He trotted off toward the staircase and, once he reached it, took two steps at a time. Frank was right at his heels. They moved down the corridor and encountered no one.

When they reached the storage closet, Monica scooped up Wyatt and held him tightly.

“What took so long?” said Hal. “It sounded like a fight. We almost left.”

“If it had been up to Hal, we
would
have left,” said Nick.

Byron slung a small pack over his back. “We found water bottles and a few food items. Now what? It’s nearly light.”

Two minutes later they were all crouched in the hallway before the front room. The porch was visible through the nearest window, and the glow of dawn could be seen creeping over the horizon. Stone was still at his post on the porch, looking out over the valley and blocking the only exit.

Frank stood up and pulled his hood over his head. Dixon was several inches shorter than he was, so he slouched his shoulders to make himself seem smaller.

Then he took the strap off the dart gun and checked the cartridge. Only four darts left. Every dart would have to count.

“What are you waiting for?” said Hal. “Hurry.”

“I don’t see you rushing outside to stop them,” said Nick.

“It wasn’t my idea,” said Hal.

“Quiet,” said Frank. “Stay here and stay down.” He tucked the gun under his cape and, taking a deep breath, went to the front door.

A cool morning breeze hit him when the door opened. The burst of air nearly lifted the hood off his head and gave him a momentary panic. But the wind lessened once the door was opened further, and his head remained covered.

Stone was leaning against a post near the front steps. Frank couldn’t see his face with his hood pulled so low, but the feet were enormous.

“Morning, Dixon,” said Stone.

It was now or never. Frank raised and fired until it clicked empty. All four darts pierced Stone in the stomach, just as they had Lichen and the other.

But for Stone, a much larger, thicker, more massive target, four darts apparently weren’t enough.

Frank’s hood snapped back, and two massive hands shoved him hard. It felt like getting hit by a truck at high speed—all the air inside him left him at once. He flew backward, his feet completely off the ground, through the door and into the front room. Before landing against the sofa, his arm smashed through a lamp sitting on an end table. Frank felt a searing jolt of pain as something sharp cut deep into his arm, glass exploding in every direction.

Frank wanted to cry out, but he couldn’t find his breath.

Suddenly Stone was over him, picking him up and bringing Frank’s face to his.

“Do not make me hurt you,” said Stone. Then his eyes drooped a little, and Frank knew the tranquilizers were having some effect.

Frank jerked back, and as suspected, Stone’s grip was weak enough for Frank to break free. He fell to the floor and there, in a painful intake of air, got his full wind back.

Stone reached for his tranquilizer gun hanging over his back and brought it to bear on Frank. “You give me no choice.”

Frank closed his eyes and waited for the inevitable popping sound of the dart discharging but heard breaking glass instead. He opened his eyes and saw Stone tip to one side before falling unconscious to the floor. Byron stood beside him, holding the remnants of another glass lamp.

Byron dropped the lamp, extended a hand, and helped Frank to his feet. “You okay?”

“I think so, yeah,” Frank said, moving to dust the glass shards off himself but then wincing at the sudden pain in his arm.

“You’re hurt,” said Monica, coming to him.

“You can check it later,” he said. “Let’s get out first. It’s nearly light.”

“You’re bleeding.”

Frank looked down at the sleeve of the robe and saw that it was indeed wet with blood. “Outside,” he said. “The other Healers could arrive any minute.”

She didn’t argue and went outside onto the porch, Wyatt clinging tightly to her waist and staring at Frank with what could have been awe. Frank rolled Stone over and yanked the tranquilizer gun from his grip.

Nick squatted beside Stone and dug through his pockets.

“What are you doing?” said Frank.

“Old habit. Never leave a man down.” He smiled. “Or is it, never leave a downed man’s wallet?” His grin left him as his hand found something in Stone’s pocket. Nick pulled his hand out, holding a semiautomatic pistol.

“I’ll take that,” said Frank, reaching for it.

Nick gave a half turn, raising a shoulder to deflect Frank’s hand. “I’m looking at it.”

Frank reached again, cautiously now, and gently put a hand on Nick’s arm. “It’s not a toy, Nick. I should carry it.”

Nick relinquished the gun, and his cheeks flushed. “I wasn’t going to shoot anybody. I was curious, is all.”

Frank removed the clip and pocketed it, then tucked the gun in his belt behind his back.

Outside, the blinding rays of morning were inching over the mountain range, bathing the cabin in an amber hue and reflecting off the chilled dew across the lawn.

“It’s freezing out here,” said Dolores, pulling her suit coat around her.

Nick descended the steps of the porch and joined the others in the yard, staring out over the valley. “We’re going out in that?”

In answer, Frank walked past him and headed for the tree line south of the cabin, precisely in the direction Nick was pointing.

“But for how far?” said Nick. “I can’t see anything from here. No town. No road. Nothing.”

“Then I suggest we get moving,” Frank said, continuing toward the trees.

Monica and Wyatt were right behind him. Hal, Byron, and Dolores glanced at one another and then hustled after Frank as well.

Nick looked back at the cabin, hesitated a moment, then hurried with the others into the forest.

Agent Riggs drove north toward Agoura Hills, his mind racing. It had been two days since Carter and Frank disappeared—two days since those two had, according to the vehicle usage records at the BHA, taken a van and left the agency. Where they had gone to and why, Riggs could only guess. It didn’t make sense. Here they were, in the middle of critical investigation, gaining ground on the Healer crisis, and Carter and Frank had walked off the lot as if school were no longer in session.

“Maybe they got a call or something,” said Peeps, who was sitting in the passenger seat. “Maybe someone phoned in a lead or a clue or something.”

Riggs shook his head. “I checked the phone records. I didn’t see anything unusual.” Besides, they would have
told
me if they had found a lead.”

Riggs rubbed his hand through his five o’clock shadow. Every part of him felt tired, especially his mind. For two days he had tried to find answers and for two days he had come up empty. First there was Frank and Carter, two agents who had stepped off the face of the earth without so much as a goodbye. Then there were the Healers. Jonathan Fox, who Riggs had hoped would prove to be a break in the case, turned out to be a dead end. Agents had combed every inch of roadside near where the truck had hit the boy and found nothing. No virus. No blood. Nothing. It was as
if the kid had fallen out of the sky, a notion that Riggs gave more than a cursory consideration. And the deputy, the one and only witness they had in the whole ordeal, had apparently left town the morning after the accident to tend to a dying relative somewhere out of state. All attempts to contact the man had proved fruitless.

So here they were, going up to Agoura Hills yet again, this time to speak to the deputy’s supervisor in person. They pulled into the parking lot of the Sheriff’s Station and made their way inside. A heavyset woman in a deputy’s uniform greeted them at the front desk.

“Help you, gentlemen?”

Riggs showed her his badge. “Agent Riggs of the Biohazard Agency. This is Agent Waters. We’d like to speak to Lieutenant Yontz, please.”

She pointed them to an office across the room and picked up the phone. “I’ll tell him you’re coming.”

Riggs thanked her, and they crossed to Yontz’s office.

Leroy Yontz hung up his phone and welcomed them inside, inviting them to have a seat opposite his desk and offering them coffee, the latter of which they politely refused. Yontz was a slender man in his forties with a receding hairline and a gold-rimmed pair of bifocals.

“You boys have had a hard time with this one,” Yontz said. “Some cases you got to give up on. That’s my policy. Chase the tough ones too long, and you burn yourself out.”

“I’m afraid that’s not an option at this point,” said Riggs.

Yontz shrugged. “Well, I told you everything I know over the phone, which isn’t much. This was Deputy Dixon’s thing. I don’t know that I can be of much more help to you.”

“Any word from Dixon?”

Yontz shook his head. “I left messages on his cell phone, but I haven’t heard back from him. Some relative dying or something. I hope he knows this counts against his vacation time.”

“What about the truck driver?”

“I put in a call with the trucking company. Nasty-ass lawyer called me back, said if I wanted to talk to his client, I’d have to arrange a hearing. Said no charges were made against the man; it was an accident pure and simple. Anybody could see that.” Yontz put his feet up on his desk and picked at his teeth with a toothpick. “The world would be a happier place
if they let us take a shot at lawyers every now and then. Nothing fatal, of course, just wing ’em.”

“Could you take us to the scene of the accident?” said Riggs. “We’d like to have a look around.”

Yontz put his feet down and tried not to look annoyed. “I already took your boys out there. They poked in the grass for a few hours and didn’t find anything. Don’t see how our going out there again is going to change that.”

Riggs stood up and Peeps followed.

“Just a few minutes of your time, Lieutenant,” said Riggs. “We’ll be most grateful.”

Yontz mumbled something under his breath and grabbed his hat.

Ten minutes later they arrived at the accident scene. Yontz parked his cruiser on the side of the road, and Riggs pulled his sedan in behind him. They got out and looked around. In the daylight, this stretch of road looked like all the miles of rural highway in this area. Had Yontz not escorted them, Riggs wasn’t sure he could have found the spot.

He looked down at the clearing and the forest beyond.

“What’s beyond those trees?” Riggs asked.

“More trees,” said Yontz. “Not many residences or commercial properties up here anymore.”

Anymore? “Were there
ever
any commercial facilities up here, any that have been abandoned?”

Yontz rubbed his chin and thought a moment. “Well, there’s the old Happy Mountain Rest Home.” He pointed northeast. “About two miles up that way. That place has been empty for years.”

Riggs snapped his fingers at Peeps. “Notify Hernandez. I want the assault team in a helicopter flying in this direction in two minutes.”

Frank found a narrow trail not far below the tree line and decided to take it. It would lead them to civilization much faster than an aimless hike through the woods. Plus, a trail would be safer; they wouldn’t have to worry about unexpected holes or gullies or invading an unfriendly animal’s den. And, with fewer obstacles to watch out for, they could move faster. The morning air was cold, but the quick pace Frank had adopted
was warming them. Hal had decided to wear his suit coat after all, and everyone moved with surprising ease.

Frank stepped over a log in the path and marveled. He had had surgery a little over forty-eight hours ago, and now he felt as nimble and light as ever. Wyatt was the only one who seemed to being having a bit of a struggle. He was having to take two steps for every one of Frank’s. And although he was keeping up for the time being, Frank knew it wouldn’t last. The kid would tire. He couldn’t keep this pace up forever.

“I should look at your arm,” Monica said, coming in step beside Frank.