Orpheus (30 page)

Sam and Fish had already mowed down several zombies, with more coming. Holt released Mutt so he could unsling his own rifle; in those short seconds, Mutt collapsed to the ground, unable to support himself. Holt didn't have time to check on him, as he was needed in the fight. Mutt, to his neverending credit, refused to sit there and let his friends fight without him. He crawled to Holt's side and grabbed his pistol and magazines. He fired from his ass, but he held his own.

The moonlight only broke through the trees in spots. The battle area was dark, but the zombies' eyes provided suitable targets. Their eyes didn't glow a supernatural red or anything that theatrical, but the infection did
something
to them that made their eyes highly reflective, and the remaining members of the Scalpel team were grateful for it.

The symphony of crashing brush, impromptu battle cries, and gunfire was soon accompanied by the sounds of the approaching helicopter.

* * *

The pilot, Jameson, was annoyed. He'd argued with the tattooed chick for ten minutes about how there was no way in Hell that he was going up to rescue someone dumb enough to get surrounded by zombies, and that should have been the end of it. Somehow, their plight had become priority #1 for Trager, and here he was anyway.
But when Anders comes personally knocking at your door, the smart thing to do is go.

Anders scared him, he couldn't kid himself about that. It wasn't a physical fear, no; Jameson would bet any amount that he could take Anders in a fair fight, but he doubted that Anders and a fair fight had ever made each other's acquaintance. If they had, the fair fight probably end up with sore nuts and a shattered beer bottle stuck in its back. The other thing was that if Jameson thought that
he
was annoyed because he had to rescue Holt (and now, Holt didn't want to be rescued!), he'd underestimated Anders. Jameson had seen him literally shaking with anger on more than one occasion tonight.

Like he was doing now. If Holt wasn't careful, he was going to have an "accident" during the rescue.

Jameson cleared his throat and said, "Anyone see those dipshits?"

The other two men shook their heads, while Anders said nothing.

"All right, I'm going to expand the circle."

"Hold up," Anders said at a volume that indicated he didn't remember that they were in a helicopter. When Jameson failed to heed him, he slapped him on the helmet and yelled, "I said to hold up, asshole!"

"Okay! Okay!"

"Point the light down there...near those tallest pines." The high-powered light cast daylight on a large diameter of the forest, and several shapes in motion vindicated the decision.

"That them?"

"No!" Anders took over the searchlight controls and swept it sideways. More shapes, moving in the same direction. He took a guess at where they'd all intersect, and lit that next. Before the light illuminated that area, he knew: he'd seen the muzzle flashes. "That is! Get over there and let's take 'em out!"

"The zombies, right?"

Anders stopped him with a look that chilled him. "Yeah, the zombies. It's a rescue mission, isn't it? Now shut your cakehole and get over there!"

Jameson banked hard and the other three men prepared to fight from the air.
Sure. If you say so, nutjob.

* * *

At the Drive-In, five stunned people sat in a circle around an unconscious sixth. Ethan related what had gone down during his solo mission. He found it difficult to talk about the men he'd killed, but he thought that they deserved to know everything. Rachel took his hand in support, and, by way of mutual apology, Harold took hers for the same reason.

"So all of the radio stations are back." Sister Ann was making a statement, not a question.

"Across the dial."

"Dear God. Can we transmit somehow?"

"Seeing as I burned the only station on the island to the ground, I doubt it."

"What about cell phones?"

"If we can find a car charger, we can try, but I suspect that the towers are disabled. And burning those down won't help at all."

"What does this mean?" Jason said.

"It means we were lied to. Us. Everyone on the island. Probably everyone on the mainland, too."

"By who?"

The man in the center began to stir. "I know where to start." His eyes fluttered open, and he stared in confusion for a few seconds before gaining his bearings.

"Good morning," Ethan said, his voice flat and emotionless. "What's your name?"

The captive coughed a few times, then answered, "Tim Driscoll. You're Ethan Holt."

"You said that before. Rach, would you grab him a water? He's got some talking to do." Rachel grabbed two bottles from behind the counter. She put one in front of Ethan, then unscrewed the top off of the second and held it to Tim's lips. He took three large gulps and thanked her. Ethan thought the whole thing odd; it was identical to a lot of interrogation scenes that he'd seen on cop shows.

"Better? Ready to answer some questions?"

"Look-"

"How's the leg?"

"What?"

"Your leg...how is it? Last time I saw you, you were speeding away in the back of an armored car." He looked at Ann. "That was maybe a minute before you showed up, by the way."

Tim looked shocked. "That was...holy shit, that
was
you! You two," he nodded at Rachel, "saved my life. Now let me return the favor. I-"

"How many of you are there? What was the plan at the school?"

"What? Listen, Ethan..."

Ethan was getting visibly angrier. "How did you know my name?"

"That's what I'm trying to tell you..."

"Why did you block the radio signals?"

"Dude, listen to me for a sec...""

"Who's in charge?"

"OH MY GOD, CAN YOU SHUT UP FOR TWO SECONDS?"

The outburst took Ethan by surprise, and he didn't know how to respond.

"Look, we can talk over each other all night, or I can tell you that I know who you are because I was looking for you."

"Why? Who sent you?"

"Your father."

Rachel gasped, but Ethan just stared. "You're lying. He'd never be on the same side as people who'd do what yours did."

"What's that again?" Ethan related the story as if Tim already knew it. The captive was silent for a long time. "That's horrible, but I'm not with them."

"You're wearing the same uniform."

"So are you."

Ethan looked down at his clothes. It was true, of course; he'd forgotten that he'd taken it off of the dead man.

"It's what the hospital maintenance workers wear. There were a lot of them." Tim gave a brief history of Scalpel and Scythe, and ended with the search for Ethan.

"H-he's alive?"

"As of a few hours ago, yes."

"Why should I believe you?"

"Check my left breast pocket." Rachel slid her hand into his pocket, and Tim mock-flirted, "Hi, there. Hey, just breaking the ice." She smirked as she pulled the picture out and handed it to Ethan.

Ethan held it lightly. His eyes glistened a bit. "That was a good day." He put the picture on the table in front of him. "Do you know anything about my mother?"

"I'm sorry, no."

"Where is he now?"

"I can tell you where he was." Tim told of the night's mission, beginning with the time in the sewers, to the events at the school ("Yup, that was us."), and he ended with the run for his life. "Everything after the fight with the zombies is kind of hazy, because I got punched in the face."

"Does he have a radio?"

"One of them probably does, but I dropped mine."

"What channel?

"Six, but-"

Ethan unclipped the radio that he'd taken from the man in the woods and turned it to channel six. Tim realized what he intended to do and yelled, "Stop him!" as Ethan put the radio to his mouth and keyed the mic. "Stop him!"

Rachel reacted to Tim's words and knocked the radio away from Ethan's face. He didn't drop it, but he fumbled it long enough for her to get a good grip on his wrist. "What the hell, Rachel?"

"I don't know! Tim, why did I do that?"

"Because he'll probably get him and his dad killed. The people from the school; they don't know about you. No one even knows you're alive. If you give that advantage up and call your father, they'll leverage each of you against the other, and they'll probably wipe out everyone they can't use."

"I just want to talk to my dad."

"I know, but we have to find a different way. He'll be fine for a little while longer. Trust me. And for God's sake, untie me."

Ethan considered the request for a moment, then looked around the room for any objections. "All right, but if you do anything stupid, I'll shoot you." Rachel cut the duct tape off, and Tim massaged his wrists, then his jaw.

"I just want something to eat." Tim walked to the snack bar and grabbed several boxes of chocolate. He started jamming handfuls into his mouth.

"If we're going to trust you, we might as well tell you everything."

Tim stopped in mid-chew. "What?"

Ethan told him how he came to be in the woods outside the radio station in the first place.

"What? Show me."

Ethan walked him outside (after checking to make sure they were still alone, naturally) and turned on the car radio. Green Day.

Tim took a moment to compose himself, then they went back in inside. "The radio station's toast?"

"Uh-huh."

"I doubt cells would work, even if we had a charged one."

"Yeah, that's what we think. Any ideas? Anybody?"

"What about shortwave?" Jason asked.

"Say that again?"

"Shortwave. Ham radios. If you knocked out whatever was jamming the radio signals, then shortwave might be up and running, right? And you don't need a tower or anything. There's got to be a couple of operators on this island somewhere."

"Jason, you continue to amaze me. Any clue how we find one?"

Tim said, "I think I can help with that one. I need your radio." Ethan handed it over. "No one say a word." He transmitted. "Lena, it's Tim."

Less than two seconds passed before a stressed voice responded, "You're alive! Oh my God, are you okay?"

"I'm fine, Lena. It's good to hear you. You sound busy." That was code for,
Are you alone?

"Yeah, but a change is as good as a rest, anyway."
Go to the encrypted channel.

"So's a nice, quiet room." This wasn't code of any sort, but Tim hoped Lena would understand it.

After a long pause, Lena said, "Good idea. I think I'll lock the door, because I don't want to be interrupted, do I?"

"Definitely not."

"We're good."

"Lena, I'm worried about your health. I don't want to, you know, cause you any grief."

"We can drop the act, Tim. I just barricaded myself in here. In for a penny, in for a pound. Now what do you need from me?"

"I need you to get a message out. A new rendezvous point."

"Where?"

Tim realized that he hadn't thought this far ahead. If he gave too much information, this safe house would become useless to Orpheus as Scythe swarmed all over it. "Uh, let me think for a second."

"Well, hurry up, because I hear knocking. No, wait, it's pounding."

Ethan said, "Tell her to tell him, 'Eleven o'clock special'."

Tim relayed the message.

"This is on good authority?"

"Doesn't get any better."

"Oh. Oh!"

"Yup. One last thing, Lena." He told her, and waited for a response. He waited long enough that he thought they might have been disconnected. "Lena, did you hear me?"

"Yeah, and I just confirmed it. Goddamn. It's just...hold on. I tried to transmit on the shortwave, but by the time I got it up and running, I think Trager and his goons had smashed the antenna." She trailed off, then came back on with a new strength in her voice. "Do you remember where I told you I live?"

"The building, anyway."

"6C. Bedroom closet." She began to speak again, but was interrupted by shouts and ramming noises, then what sounded like gunshots. "Holy shit, they just shot the lock." She spoke the next sentence in a slow, controlled tone, in an attempt, Tim thought, to mask her sadness and fear. "I don't expect I'll get to talk to you again anytime soon. Be safe, hon. And pass that on, would you?"

"It'll be sooner than you think." He swallowed several times. "I promise."

"Out."

Tim sighed and handed the radio back. "What does 'Eleven o'clock special' mean?"

"He'll know."

"Okay, I think she was telling me where we can get a radio. Anyone know how we can power it?"