Missing (36 page)

 
Christopher Shero looked up, but there was no smile on his face.

 
"We found this in a metal box in what was left of Storm's lab."

 
"So what was he doing?"

 
Shero shook his head, then let the notebook fall shut.

 
"Ordinarily, I might try being a smart-ass and say he was trying to play God. But that's not exactly the case here."

 
"What is?" Wes asked.

 
"I don't quite know what to say," Shero said, then shivered. "My grandmother's favorite saying was 'Playing with fire will get you burned.' I'm not sure whether Storm knew what he was doing or if he created a monster he couldn't control."

 
Wes was beginning to get a sick feeling that had nothing to do with PTSD.

 
"For God's sake, Doctor, I'm not big on guessing games."

 
"And I'm not in the habit of playing them," Shero said. "But the scope of this is almost beyond me.

 
However, the proof, I guess, is in the pudding, or in this case, his lab notes. From what I can tell, I think he started out trying to grow some kind of high-tech, addictive hybrid plant. Hurley tells me that Storm was a master geneticist, so I'm thinking he was playing around with DNA and it mutated on him. Initially, he writes about the drug as if once used, it would forever hook the user, thereby assuring him of a never-ending market for his crop. But the last dozen pages indicate that something happened he didn't expect. The notes are scattershot, and his writing's messy, like he was distracted or upset. He says that the drug never dissipates from the body. It does all kinds of nasty things before the user dies a rather horrible death."

 
Wes didn't want to ask, but he had to know. "So how dangerous are we talking?"

 
"Let's just say it's good that everything up here was burned, or I'd need to be updating my will."

 
"Christ," Wes said, thinking of Danny and Porter. "What about the crop itself... I mean, before it was dried, or whatever the hell Storm did to it to make it marketable? What about someone who was hired to harvest the crop?"

 
"That's why you're here," Hurley said.

 
"Ally's brothers...what can you tell me?" Wes asked.

 
"If they're not dead already, they will be soon," Shero said.

 
“Tell me why," Wes said.

 
"The monster Storm created was more powerful than even he expected. The worst of the drug was in the sap... the juice in the stalks."

 
Wes felt sick. "Ally's brothers were hired to harvest the crop."

 
"Did they wear protective clothing?" Shero asked.

 
"I don't think so," Wes said. "Remember Ally saying how crazy they acted about their clothing when they came home...not wanting her to touch it, before or after it was cleaned?"

 
"Then if Storm's notes are correct, there's no hope for them. Even if they survive the fire, which isn't likely, not only will they die, but they'll go mad in the process."

 
Wes thought of his own flashbacks and knew what it felt like to go mad.

 
"Mad...as in not knowing who they are...that kind of thing?"

 
"Well, according to Storm, the lab rats tried to kill one another, but since they were in separate cages, all they managed to do was chew off one another's paws."

 
Wes flinched, as if he'd just been punched in the gut.

 
"We've got to find them," Wes said.

 
"I have search teams out right now," Hurley said. "We should know—" Suddenly, his two-way crackled with static. "Agent Hurley...sir...this is Vernon. You need to come now."

 
Hurley keyed his two-way. "What's your location?"

 
"The edge of the field...south of the burned machinery."

 
"We're on our way."

 
"Sir...bring the doctor."

 
"Will do," Hurley said.

 
"Oh, and sir...hurry. For God's sake, hurry."

 
It had to be the brothers. Wes bolted past Hurley and started to run.

 
"Holden! Wait!"

 
"He isn't the waiting kind," Charlie said, and started after him.

 
Hurley waved some of his men forward as they hurried to Vernon's aid. Whatever was going on, it had sounded as if Vernon was rattled, and it took a lot to rattle the DEA.

 
The smell of the fire was still strong in the air. Wes knew it would take weeks, maybe months, and some good soaking rains before the land would even begin to heal. As he reached the field, he saw a group of men on the far side and headed for them at a lope.

 
He was less than thirty feet away when the group suddenly parted and Wes saw something on the ground between them. It took a few seconds for him to realize it was a man.

 
"Sweet Jesus," he muttered, and abruptly stopped.

 
Hurley and his men ran past more slowly, Wes followed. Upon his arrival, all the men in the circle began to talk at once. Wes wanted to look away but was transfixed by the horror.

 
Suddenly Charlie appeared and grabbed at Wes's arm.

 
"Son of a— Who is that, and what the hell happened to him?" Charlie asked.

 
Hurley turned toward Wes. "Is it one of them?"

 
"It can't be," Wes said.

 
"Damn it, man...we've got to know one way or the other."

 
Wes shuddered, then moved a step closer. As he did, the man looked straight up into the sun and then started to scream. When one of the agents reached for him, Shero grabbed his arm.

 
"Don't touch him," Shero ordered.

 
"There's so much blood on him, but I can't tell where it's coming from," Vernon said.

 
"I don't think it's his," Shero said.

 
"That's Porter Monroe," Wes said.

 
"Are you sure?" Hurley asked.

 
"Yes."

 
"Poor devil," Shero mumbled.

 
"Why isn't he dead?" Hurley asked.

 
"Basically, he is. His heart just hasn't stopped beating," Shero said.

 
Wes squatted down beside Porter's body.

 
"Don't touch him!" Shero yelled.

 
Wes flinched, then glared up at the doctor.

 
"You need to shut the hell up. You don't know what he's hearing or thinking."

 
"According to Storm's notes, he shouldn't even be alive," Shero said.

 
Wes pointed at Porter. "But he is, isn't he? Which means Storm was wrong...at least in part. We're still missing a brother, and I'd like to know what happened to him, too, before I go back to Ally."

 
Shero glared.

 
Wes looked back at Porter and kept thinking about the rats in Storm's lab that had chewed off their paws. He'd never seen this much blood on a man who was still alive, and with Danny missing, the thought of where it might have come from was making him sick.

 
"Porter...can you hear me? It's Wes Holden."

 
Porter lifted his hand up in front of his face and began slowly moving his fingers, as if he didn't know what they were.

 
Wes gritted his teeth. "Porter! Where's Danny? We can't find Danny."

 
Porter blinked slowly. His fingers stopped moving, although his arm was still up in the air.

 
"Porter, I need to find Danny. Where's Danny?"

 
"The deer...got Daddy a deer. Venison...likes venison."

 
Wes wanted to weep with relief. The blood. It must have come from the deer.

 
"Did Danny go hunting?" Wes asked. "Tell me, Porter. Was Danny with you?"

 
"Lost," Porter whispered. "Little brother lost." Then his eyes rolled back in his head. Breath rattled at the back of his throat, and then he was gone.

 
Wes stood as Hurley fired a question at Vernon.

 
"Where did this man come from?" he asked.

 
Vernon was trying not to gag. "We just found him here," he said.

 
Wes was already searching the ground for blood splatters when Hurley realized what he was doing.

 
"I've got people for that," he said. "You're going to mess up the trail."

 
"You don't have any people better than Wes," Charlie said. "Or me, for that matter. Uncle Sam trained us well. Let us help."

 
"Fine, but I'm still in charge, and if I say stop, then somebody better be hitting the brakes."

 
Charlie strode off after Wes, leaving the rest of them to sort out who was boss and bring up the rear.

 
As Wes moved, it was easy to see where Porter had come from. There was blood all over the place. Unfortunately for Wes, Porter's trail was as confused as his mind. It appeared that he had stumbled often, fallen repeatedly and doubled back on himself countless times. But Wes didn't think it was to throw anyone off the track. It was nothing more than an echo of the random chaos in his mind.

 
Charlie caught up with Wes, and without speaking, they spread out and began backtracking along Porter's trail.

 
As they started down the hill into the woods opposite the path the fire had taken, Charlie suddenly stopped.

 
"Whoa," he muttered.

 
"What did you find?" Wes asked.

 
"Dead raccoon."

 
"Don't touch it," Wes said. "Remember what Shero told us."

 
Charlie gave it a wide berth and resumed the search.

 
A short distance away, Wes came upon a dead deer. Some of the points on the deer's antlers were broken off. He found them embedded in a tree.

 
As they continued to track, they could hear Hurley and his men coming down behind them. When the agents came upon the dead animals, Wes heard Hurley key up his two-way. The CDC was going to have their work cut out for them now.

 
"Here," Wes said, pointing toward a path through a thicket. "I've got blood on the brush, and broken branches."

 
Charlie nodded and shifted his path a bit to the right, as did Wes.

 
Minutes turned into a half hour and Wes was of the opinion that Porter would not have been physically able to go any farther, when he heard the sound.

 
He stopped, then held up his fist. Charlie saw the signal to stop and paused, then he heard it, too. He looked at Wes and frowned.

 
"Bees?"

 
"Some kind of insects," Wes said. "Sounds like they're swarming."

 
"We'd better wait," Charlie said. "Remember what you said about all those ants?"

 
Wes's stomach was already in knots as he turned around and waved Hurley down.

 
The agents came quickly.

 
"What?" Hurley asked.

 
Wes pointed toward the direction from which the sound was coming. "Listen," he said.

 
At first they heard nothing but the wind in the trees. They'd already noted the absence of birds and seen the dead animals. But it was Vernon who keyed in on it first.

 
"Bees. Sounds like bees swarming."

 
"Or flies," Wes added.

 
Hurley frowned. "Flies don't make a sound like that."

 
"They do if there are enough of them, and if they're on something dead," Charlie said.

 
The color faded from Vernon's face as he glanced nervously around.

 
"Maybe we should wait for CDC," he suggested.

 
But Charlie was already moving.

 
He stepped between two bushes that had overgrown a narrow path, then stopped.

 
"Oh, God," he mumbled, then turned around and threw up.

 
Wes was right behind him. Whatever he'd been about to say died on his lips. He stood for a moment, trying to take in what was draped over the rock in front of them, then he grabbed Charlie by the arm and dragged him out of the path as Hurley started past.

 
"Don't," Wes said.

 
Hurley frowned. "I'm sorry, Holden, but this is my case and I—" Hurley stopped, then slowly began to move backward. "Lord have mercy," he whispered.

 
"What is it?" Vernon asked. "What did you find?"

 
Wes wanted to cry, but he knew if he started, he might never stop.

 
"Porter's deer. I think we found Porter's deer."

 
He turned to Hurley and the men who were with him, and without raising his voice, gave them a promise they knew he would keep.

 
"You can put what you have to in your written report, but don't tell Ally. In fact, if any of you ever tell what you've seen here today, I will find you—each and every mother's son of you—and make you sorry for the day you were born."

 
Hurley wanted to argue. He could have had Wes arrested for what he'd just said, but he knew where it was coming from, and for once, he understood.

 
"We have no desire for any of this to get out," Hurley said. "Nor will the CDC. There's no way the bodies can be handled by a funeral home, anyway. They'll have to be burned."