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Authors: Dana Fredsti

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BOOK: Plague Nation
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I nudged Nathan on the arm.

“Isn’t this near your place?”

“Other side of the summit,” Nathan replied. “This is the popular side. One of those microclimates perfect for growing Pinot or Cabernet or some other winey shit. Mine’s on the side that gets the worst of the wind. Keeps the amateur winemakers and the tourists out of my hair.”

I almost smiled at the thought of unsuspecting tourists, intent on wine-tasting, showing up at Nathan’s uninviting compound and demanding his best “winey shit.” The smile didn’t make it past a mental snapshot of Kai.

We got out of the truck and all four soldiers immediately saluted. Gabriel returned the salute.

“Where is he?”

“Inside, sir.” The private nodded. “He’s been subdued and contained.”

“Any other civilians?”

The soldier swallowed.

“Yes, sir. One still alive.”

“That’s good, right?” I asked, but got no answer.

We went inside.

I recoiled as the smell hit—an olfactory assault made up of blood, meat, and yet more rotting flesh. Whatever happened here had been beyond bad.

Unlike the trailers, this vacation getaway was decorated in what I thought of as Mountain Man chic, furniture made of logs, lots of dark plaid fabrics, and trophy heads on the wall. A giant flatscreen TV took up most of one wall, a pile of DVDs was scattered on the table and floor below. Someone had been having a
Lord of the Rings
marathon. What didn’t fit the decor were the smears and puddles of blood—dried, gelatinous, and fresh—on the walls, furniture, and hardwood floors. A man sat on the couch, hands cuffed behind his back, head hanging forward. Three soldiers surrounded him, two on either side and one holding a gun on him from behind the couch. All three looked as green in the gills as the two out front.

I couldn’t blame them. Even after the trailer park cleanup, the smell in the cabin was enough to make my stomach churn.

“Ashley, can you verify the identity of the prisoner?” Gabriel nodded toward the man on the couch.

I stepped forward, already certain I knew who he was.

“Jake?”

The man raised his head and smiled at me, bloodstained lips, gums, and teeth even more disturbing because the smile was genuine.

“Hi there,” he said. “Do I know you? I must if you know my name, right?”

I nodded, trying to hide my revulsion.

“Yeah. We met at Big Foot’s Revenge a few days or so ago.” I didn’t mention that he’d been sobbing over the remains of his wife and kid at the time, even as he’d been nibbling on them. It looked like he still had on the same pair of gore-encrusted jeans and blue flannel shirt he’d been wearing when we’d found him.

Recognition lit his face, a face that had no doubt been pleasantly handsome before he’d been bitten by a zombie and turned into a half-deader, thanks to another mutation of the zombie virus. He had to eat human flesh, preferably still living, in order to stop his own body from rotting. The plus side? His brain still functioned, memories intact.

Which wasn’t such a plus if you couldn’t stop yourself from eating your family and friends. Unlike Gabriel, Jake didn’t have a handy dandy antiserum keeping the contagion at bay, so he’d turned on his wife and son after they’d taken refuge in a cabin. I’d have felt sorry for the guy if he hadn’t been at least partially responsible for Kaitlyn’s death.

This is getting to be a nasty habit.

I shoved the morbid thought away.

“That’s right,” he said. “You were going to take my wife and son to a doctor, right?”

“Yeah, that’s right,” I said.

“But you left me there.” He looked confused. “Why did you leave me?”

“You hurt our friend, Jake.” I hunkered down in front of him. “Remember? You bit her.”

“Oh, that.” He shrugged. “I was hungry. Can’t blame a man for being hungry, can you?”

I saw the soldier behind him tighten his grip on his firearm, index finger itching to pull that trigger. I shook my head “no” and he glared at me.

“Begging your pardon, Ma’am,” he said, “but you haven’t seen what this crazy bastard did here. We have every cause to put him down like a mad dog.”

“He’s right, you know.” Nathan came back out of the kitchen. He looked ill, an expression totally out of place considering his normal unflappable—if cranky— personality.

“He kept them alive while he was eating them, one piece at a time,” the soldier continued. “Stopped them from bleeding out with tourniquets, but didn’t do anything about infection. Nothing to stop the pain. Just... sliced pieces off like they were shawarma on a spit.”

“Shawarma.” Jake nodded in agreement. “I’ve always wanted to try shawarma.” He giggled. “Guess I have to wait till the end of the movie.”

Two people in Hazmat suits came out, carrying a body bag that looked only partially filled. I swallowed, willing myself not to throw up.

“You say one of them is still alive?”

“Yeah. If you can call it that.” Nathan swallowed, hard. “The medics had to sedate her before she’d stop screaming.”

“He needs to die!” The soldier with the itchy trigger finger stepped forward, only to be straight-armed by Gabriel.

“We have to take him back to Big Red,” he said sternly. These were the first words Gabriel had spoken since he’d asked me to identify Jake. I almost didn’t recognize his voice, it sounded so. dead.

Nathan nodded, but he didn’t look happy.

“Agreed. They’ll want to run tests. Simone always wants to run tests.”

I looked down at Jake, who sat there giggling, rocking back and forth.

“If we’re lucky,” Nathan added, “they won’t use any anesthetic.”

The medics brought out the other victim on a stretcher, a woman in her early forties with short brown hair plastered to her skull by sweat and blood. The medics had draped a sheet over her body; it settled in unnatural divots and indentations already soaking through with blood and other fluids. Even in repose, her expression showed the nightmare she’d just survived. I wondered if there were enough sedatives in the world to give her a dream-free sleep.

“Did he do anything else to them?”

“No,” Nathan replied. “Our friend here isn’t interested in sex. Just food.”

“I’m hungry,” Jake chimed in. “Is it tea time? I already had elevenses.” He giggled again and the soldier standing in back of the chair suddenly reversed his firearm and slammed the butt into the back of his skull. Jake’s eyes rolled up in his head and he slumped forward, falling face first onto the floor.

No one moved to pick him up.

“I’m sorry, sir.” The soldier, who didn’t look old enough to order a beer in public, stared straight ahead, barely holding it together. I could see him starting to crack open at the seams. I didn’t blame him. No way any kind of training could prepare someone for this.

“If you hadn’t done it, I would have,” I said.

Nathan gave the soldier a sympathetic look.

“Just don’t do it again. We need him alive.”

A muscle twitched in Gabriel’s jaw as he stared at Jake’s prone body. I could only imagine what he was thinking. That—but for Dr. Albert’s antiserum—would be his fate.

I wanted to sit down, but couldn’t find a chair or section of couch that wasn’t liberally soaked in blood, so I settled for perching gingerly on the edge of the stone hearth. I almost instantly regretted my decision when I looked in the fireplace and saw charred bones mixed in with the ashes and half-burned chunks of wood.

“We’re done here,” Nathan said, sitting down next to me.

“What next?” I didn’t really want an answer.

“We take this son-of-a-bitch back to Big Red and find out what the common denominator is between him and Gabriel. Then we try and figure out what, if anything, they both share with the wild cards.” He slung an arm around my shoulder and gave me a rough hug. I didn’t know what to do with it.

“And if we’re lucky,” he continued, “maybe Dr. Albert and Simone can actually figure out a cure for this whole shitstorm.”

CHAPTER TWELVE

The sun was setting as we drove up the access road to Big Red. The last of the day’s light reflected off the windows of the outer buildings of the campus just beyond the defensive perimeter of Mount Gillette and the Slinky of Doom, nicknames I’d come up with during a more frivolous moment.

The former was a mini Great Wall of China made out of some military grade shaving cream that hardened to the consistency of Silly Putty when exposed to air. It could be employed quickly, and made for an effective barrier against the walking dead as long as their numbers weren’t too great.

The Slinky of Doom was my nickname for the accordion-style razor wire set in front of Mount Gillette, loops of the stuff meant to entangle rotting limbs long enough for the perimeter guards and snipers to dispatch them with clean shots to the head.

A gap had been made in the perimeter during the swarm attack, designed to funnel the zombies into a killing chute of flames and gunfire. That gap now provided access into and out of the campus, and was guarded 24/7, two trucks parked on either side of it. Guess we were safe unless a rogue biker gang came along and wanted to get into the mall.

Jake sat in the back of the Humvee, handcuffed and flanked on either side by two soldiers, neither of whom looked happy to be near him. He was still groggy from the blow to the head, and thankfully quiet as we drove through the gap. The setting sun cast eerie shadows on his bloodstained face.

As we rolled through the quad toward Patterson Hall, I thought of the first time the wild cards had faced the zombies as separate teams. It had been Gabriel, Lil, Kai, and me on our team. and we had kicked zombie ass.

I shut my eyes, forcibly willing the tears to stay back a little while longer, taking comfort in the warmth of Gabriel and Nathan on either side of me. No way I wanted to cry with Psycho Jake there.

We pulled up outside of Patterson Hall, next to the military ambulance that was already parked in front. The soldiers quickly dragged Jake out of the back, none too gently, supporting most of his weight between them.

“Where are we going?” he asked.

“Disneyland,” I said without a hint of humor.

“Good. I like Disneyland. Shanna and I took Tyce there last year. Good times.” He smiled at me, a genuinely sweet smile even more disturbing than the psycho cannibal he’d become. “I’m going to see them now, right?”

God, this is so fucked up.
Chalk up another war crime to lay at Dr. Albert’s doorstep.

“Right,” I said, forcing myself not to choke on the word as the two soldiers led Jake up the stairs, and from there to the lab facilities below.

Gabriel put a hand on my shoulder.

“You okay?” he asked yet again. I started to nod, but then lurched away from his hand, making it as far as the bushes before losing the contents of my stomach.

Tears streamed down my face as my stomach heaved again and again, until there was nothing left. I fell onto my knees, light-headed, dry-heaving and sobbing until I thought I’d pass out.

“Just breathe, Ash.” Gentle hands pulled my hair back from my face, and rubbed my back until the spasms passed. A water bottle appeared in front of me. I gratefully took a swallow, then another. I wanted to brush my teeth. I focused on breathing some more, had another sip of water and looked up.

“Thanks.”

Gabriel helped me to my feet, keeping an arm around me when I staggered, still dizzy from all the vomiting.

“They’ll be waiting for us, after we clean up,” he said. By “they” I knew he meant Simone and Colonel Paxton.

“Is... are... will the other wild cards be there?” My voice rasped. It hurt to talk.

“Yes.” Gabriel handed me the water bottle. This time I drank deeply, pretty sure it would stay down. “They’ll need to be debriefed.”

I sighed, a great shuddering sigh. That was something I was
not
looking forward to.

“What’s going to happen to Jake?” I asked.

“Quarantine, and tests. Maybe his blood will give us another key to figuring out how to stop this thing.”

“What about that poor woman he... the one that’s still alive?” I shuddered again, this time from the sheer horror of what Jake’s victims must have suffered.

Nathan spoke up from nearby. I hadn’t realized that he was there.

“Simone will take care of her,” he said.

“They won’t take her to the labs, though, will they?” The last thing that poor woman needed was to wake up in the midst of Eli Roth’s vision of a mad doctor’s laboratory. If she weren’t already totally crazy, that would drive her over the edge for sure. As far as Jake went, I didn’t think he could go any further on the road to Crazy Town. Clearly, he was already there.

“No,” Gabriel said. “I’m sure Professor Fraser will see to it that she has a private room, as soon as it’s certain she’s not infected.”

Whether or not she would ever be completely sane again was another question.

I swallowed some more water, rolled my shoulders a couple of times to get the kinks out, nodded, and headed inside. I wanted to get the debriefing over with so I could go find a quiet corner and grieve for Kai in private. Then maybe I’d have the emotional fortitude to go find Lil and be strong for her. But first I’d need some time to be weak, all by myself.

* * *

The rest of the wild cards were already seated at the front of the auditorium. They seemed diminished, sunken into themselves with grief. Mack sat next to Lil, a comforting arm around her shoulders, while Tony huddled by himself in a seat by the wall halfway to the back of the room. Gentry sat a few seats away from him, close enough to be there if needed, but leaving enough room to give him his own space.

I’d liked Gentry from day one, and his emotional intelligence continually impressed me. He burst any preconceived stereotypes I’d ever had of your average military grunt.

Nathan and Gabriel went up to sit at the “command central” table with Simone and Colonel Paxton. I sat on the other side of Lil, giving her hand a brief squeeze to let her know I was there. She didn’t respond. Mack’s resemblance to a mournful hound dog was more marked than ever, his eyes red with unashamed tears, everything sagging with grief.

BOOK: Plague Nation
7.75Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
ads

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