The Dishonored Dead (36 page)
Even before Conrad
stepped into Philip’s new office he knew what he would find. Walking down the hallway, he somehow both sensed and heard it at the same time, so that when Philip opened the door and motioned him inside, Conrad stood still and shook his head.
“Move,” Philip growled.
Two young Hunters had followed them and now waited behind Conrad, stolid and silent, both holding assault rifles aimed at his back.
Conrad said, “What do you have to prove by doing this?”
“It doesn’t matter. Now move.”
He walked past Philip and into the room. He went directly to the desk, his eyes never leaving what sat upon it, the quartz-encrusted cube that Conrad, in a previous existence, had once held in his hands. He could hear the slow and steady pulse of the energy within it, a faint and distant sound like a tiny bug buzzing in his ear.
Philip stepped up beside him. “You want to touch, don’t you. Go ahead, I don’t mind.”
Conrad didn’t move.
“I read the reports of the Ripple Effect. I’ve seen the videos. I know that if you were to release the energy inside it right now, nothing would happen to me or to my men. Nothing, in fact, would happen to you. So if you want to touch it, hold it in your hand, fucking lick it, be my guest. I figured after nearly twenty years, you should finally have your chance.”
Ever since he’d sensed and heard what he knew was his Pandora, Conrad too had been thinking about the Ripple Effect, remembering the video Albert had repeatedly shown him of the rabbit, going from dead to living.
Philip moved around the desk and sat down in a large leather chair, leaned back and smiled at Conrad.
“I must say, the reports I read about you, the ones that were apparently sealed but somehow had been opened … they were amazing. Simply amazing. The world’s most renowned Hunter has a wife who also happens to be a living sympathizer. She did everything she could to brainwash you and almost had you turned.
So
very close to accomplishing her mission.”
“Her mission?”
“To sabotage your old man. To humiliate one of the greatest Hunters of all time. Shit, instant expiration was way too good for her. That cunt should have been torn limb by limb in front of the entire world.”
Conrad, his hands forming into fists, said, “Where is my son?”
Philip stared back at him for the longest time, rubbing his jaw, before he leaned forward and stood up and shook his head.
“You disappoint me, Conrad. I was expecting something more from you, a simple thank you maybe, because this thing right here”—gesturing at the Pandora on the desk—“this is your dirty little secret, the thing you have probably thought about for twenty years. It was taken away from you and kept from you and now here it is, provided by yours truly. But no, what do I get? ‘Where is my son? Where is my son? Where is my son?’ Fine, you want to know where your fucking son is, I’ll take you to him.”
Philip stormed around the desk and out of his office, smacking the door as he left. The two Hunters motioned for Conrad to follow him, Conrad glancing back just once as he stepped into the hallway at the Pandora on the desk, hearing that faint and distant beating that nobody else could hear.
Down the hallway then, around the corner, and there Philip waited now with four Hunters, the Hunter General with his arms crossed.
“Before I let you see your son,” he said, “I have another surprise for you.”
A Hunter—what looked like a rookie—stepped forward with a broadsword resting on his upturned palms.
“Recognize this?” Philip asked. “Of course you do. From what I understand it was hidden in your basement. Guess you were trying to keep it from your wife, huh?”
Conrad looked back up at Philip and Philip smiled, said, “Don’t worry, we haven’t captured her quite yet. But we will. I have Special Police looking everywhere for her. Even Michael has volunteered to stake out your house in case she decides to return.”
Philip took Conrad’s broadsword from the rookie, held it up to the light to inspect both sides of the blade. Then he walked to a door, opened it, and waved Conrad inside.
“After you.”
Conrad entered a narrow, poorly lit room. There were some folding chairs set up, facing a window that looked into a larger room. Whatever had been in that room before—tables, chairs, potted plants—had been cleared out, and all that waited there now was another Pandora, placed right in the middle of the floor.
“In case you’re wondering,” Philip said, entering the room along with the rest of his entourage, “it’s a two-way mirror. The Restaurant used it for businesses running special functions. They called it the Observation Room. Well, guess what we’re going to observe right now.”
A door on the other side of the two-way mirror opened and two Hunters appeared, carrying Kyle. He had his hands and ankles bound by plastic ties, a cloth bag over his head. He was placed not very gently on the ground, about ten feet from the Pandora. One of the Hunters cut the ties on his hands, the other his ankles, and then they both turned and hurried out of the room, slamming the door shut behind them.
Conrad took a step forward, meaning to bang on the mirror to let his son know he was there, but two Hunters grabbed him and pulled him back, held him in place.
“Look at your boy right now,” Philip said. “He’s so confused. He doesn’t know what’s happening.”
Kyle had yanked the cloth bag from off his head, scrambled to his feet, raced to the door. He tried the knob which was locked, then started banging on the door.
“But you know something?” Philip had gone right up to the mirror, placed his face against the pane to stare into the room. “He can hear it. We can’t, but your boy can hear that Pandora right there behind him.”
Having come to the conclusion that the door would not open, Kyle turned away. It was clear that he had in fact heard the Pandora this entire time but had been focused on getting out of the room. Now as he turned he stared down at the cube on the floor, its quartz-coating shimmering in the light.
“From what I understand your boy tried turning just the other night. That’s why he was in Psyche. In fact, I’m told
you
put him there.” Philip glanced back at him. “What’s wrong—didn’t want your boy making the same mistake you almost did?”
Ignoring Philip, Conrad stared through the two-way mirror into the room, where right this moment Kyle was walking toward the Pandora.
“This should be interesting,” Philip said. “I’ve seen the videos already, but nothing like this.”
Kyle was ten feet away from the Pandora, now five, his pace increasing the closer he got.
“And when he opens that box there—because let’s face it, we both know it’s going to happen.”
Falling to his knees in front of the Pandora, hesitantly reaching out, touching it.
“When that happens, he’s going to turn into a zombie. That’s a fact. Now the question I present to you, Conrad, is what do you want to happen next?”
Picking up the Pandora, holding it close to him, turning the cube around and around in his hands. The energy inside the cube responding, fluctuating, causing it to glow.
“Because I’m offering you two options here, two very simple, straight-forward options.”
No longer turning the Pandora around and around but holding it still, just staring at it, no doubt listening to the pulse coming from within, watching the glow growing brighter.
“The first option is that you have me go into that room. Remember Eugene Moss and what I did to his zombie son? Same thing here, only worse. In fact, I might even use your broadsword to—”
Inside the room, Kyle’s body had begun to absorb the Pandora’s energy. The process was almost instantaneous. First his fingers, then his hands, then his arms, until the rest of the dead skin had changed to living skin, until the cube had dissolved and Kyle’s entire body had absorbed the life, turning him from dead into living.
Into a zombie.
The Hunter General turned away from the mirror, his expression all at once serious. “Or the second option is you go in the room. You finish your son off like he’s just another monstrosity.” Philip held the broadsword out to Conrad. “What do you say?”
Anthony Bruno asked,
“Are you sure everything’s okay?”
Denise stood in their room, her arms crossed. “Everything’s fine. I’d just like to speak to Jess alone for a minute.”
“Okay.” Anthony grabbed the plastic bucket and keycard off the table. “I’ll go get some ice and have a smoke.”
He left then and it was just the two of them, sister and sister, staring at each other. Finally Denise asked the question she realized she should have asked all along.
“Did you lie to me?”
“What?”
“Did Conrad really come on to you?”
Jessica wore a white silk robe, holding the front together. Some of her makeup was smeared.
“Denise, what’s this about?”
“Answer the question.”
“Yes, he did.”
Denise stared into her sister’s face, not sure what she was looking for but searching for something anyway. “Do you want me to tell him the truth?”
“What truth?”
“How you stalked him.”
“I did no such thing.”
Denise stepped forward, gripped her sister’s arm, squeezed it hard. “I’ll tell him. You know I will.”
Jessica sighed and rolled her eyes, like it was no big thing, but she refused to look Denise in the eye.
“The truth, Jess.”
“What does it matter anyway? You’re better off. In case you haven’t realized it yet, Conrad is a
traitor
.”
“Tell me.”
Shaking her head, Jess pulled her arm away. “I don’t have to put up with this,” she said and turned, started toward the bathroom.
“You lying bitch.”
Jessica stopped but did not turn back around.
“You really did it, didn’t you? You … you … you whore.”
Her back still to Denise, Jessica said, “Trust me, you’re better off,” and walked into the bathroom, closed the door behind her.
Denise stood there motionless for a long time, trembling. She heard the puppy yapping in the next room and glanced that way. Then, somehow, her gaze traveled over to the nightstand where Tony had left his wallet and keys.
Moments later, back in her room, she hooked the leash on the puppy’s collar and went to the door. She waited until Tony passed by, carrying his bucket full of ice, and let himself into his room. Then she stepped outside, pulling the puppy along, heading straight for Tony’s car. Next thing she knew she was in the driver’s seat, had the engine started, and was driving toward the hotel exit. She didn’t know where she was going yet, or even why she was going there, and it wasn’t until she had already pulled out and was driving east that she realized she was headed home.
Olympus had become
empty. Only police cars cruised the streets. There were some people who had chosen to ignore the curfew and were pulled over and arrested, taken to jail. Everyone else hid in their apartments and homes and offices, waiting out the night.
The city was the quietest it had ever been, so when the explosion occurred over by the docks, it could be heard a mile away. At once a call was dispatched to half of the available cars. These took off immediately, their lights flashing and their sirens sounding.
The other half continued their sweep of the city streets until, five minutes later, another explosion occurred, this time uptown in the catacombs of the Kipling Zoo. A second call was dispatched, requesting cars that respond at once, leaving only a handful to sweep the streets surrounding the Herculean.
A minute later a tractor-trailer emerged from an abandoned warehouse downtown. Behind it emerged another, then another, then another, until there were ten tractor-trailers in all, spreading out and speeding down the deserted city streets.
In the first tractor-trailer, Harper used his radio to communicate with the other drivers:
“On my signal.”
Outside the Herculean,
a few Hunters waited around the building, broadswords sheathed at their sides, assault rifles strapped over their shoulders. They had heard both explosions and were speculating about what was happening, all of them smoking cigarettes they could not really taste.
Inside the Herculean, down in the basement, three Hunters sat quietly in the Communications Room and watched the computer monitors. They were in the midst of a discussion when there was a knock at the door and a voice said, “Come on, guys, open up. This food is getting cold.”
One of the men asked, “Who ordered food?”
Another shook his head. “Not me.”
“Probably from Philip,” said the third. “Let him in.”
The first got up, went to the door and opened it.
A young Hunter came in, carrying a large paper bag with both hands. He took the bag to one of the desks, sighed as he set it down. “There you go.”
“What is it?”
“I don’t know.” The rookie looked inside, nodded, and said, “But it looks pretty good.”
As the three men approached, the rookie reached into the bag, pulled out a silenced pistol, and shot each man in the head. Before any of them even hit the ground, the rookie hurried to the door to lock and secure it.
Then he headed to the computer monitors, stepping over their expired bodies, and sat down in a chair. He typed a command into the keyboard, brought up the Herculean’s mainframe. He pulled a radio from his pocket, flicked it on, and fingered the toggle switch.
“Harper?” he said. “We’re good to go.”
A floor below,
in the subbasement, James stood with his arms crossed watching the few Hunters work. Finding the room where all the Pandoras were hidden hadn’t been difficult at all. It was actually getting into that room, using a blowtorch to melt the lock, that was the problem. But eventually they got it off and had the door open, and there were the Pandoras, over a thousand of them, stacked up around the room. For a half hour now James had worn headphones to protect his ears from the intense combined beating, making it impossible for any of the Hunters to communicate with him verbally. It didn’t matter. None of the Hunters even wanted to look at him. They didn’t like taking orders from a living, but he didn’t care. As long as he got this room vacated, those Pandoras put on a truck and taken away, as long as he did everything Philip asked of him, he would have his wish and be the last zombie alive on earth.
