The Lethal Agent (The Extraction Files Book 2) (39 page)

LRF CORRIDOR

SEPTEMBER 16, 2232

“Her name is Holtz?” Projected in mini from his wristlet, Theo skimmed the LRF directory looking for her residence quarters.

“Yeah. Dr. Audra Holtz. Planetary Colonies. PQ-609. You know where that’s at?” Dasia had to half-jog to keep pace with Theo’s longer legs.

“Planetary Colonies?”

“Yeah. She’s the only one left in the whole department. That’s why she made the short list.”

Theo directed her down the corridor toward the personal-quarters sector. She had worked with Sal. She could have his access code, though surely Filmore had already interviewed her.

“So, you and Mable huh?” Dasia asked from behind him.

Theo didn’t turn around. “She told you?”

“No, but you just did.”

“Shit, sorry. I’m not sure if I’m supposed to say anything. It’s—” Theo didn’t know how to describe his relationship with Mable.

“New?” Dasia filled in.

“Yeah. And a lot has happened. It’s been kind of busy and crazy lately. I’m glad you’re here for her. I know she’s missed you.” Theo turned down the corridor to the left as he followed the map displayed from his wristlet.

“I missed her, too. I think Osip’s tired of hearing about her, actually.” Dasia laughed.

“Here it is.” Theo stopped short at PQ-609 and knocked. They both fell quiet to listen, but there was nothing—not so much as a sound from Dr. Holtz’s apartment.

Theo pressed his hand to the scanner. Dr. Filmore said they would be granted access, but still the screen flashed red.

“See if you can get Filmore on comms,” Theo instructed. He knelt before the panel and felt around the edge, looking for the clip. His fingertip found the edge and popped the panel from the wall so that it hung by the multicolored wires.

The comm notification buzzed behind him, so long it sounded like an echo in his head. Theo pulled at the wires to see where they went, and in what order, before pulling a black one and an orange one. He swapped their locations and held them in place long enough to see a green glow on the floor. A metallic latch clanged from somewhere in the wall as the door swung open.

“What can I help you with, Ms. Daugherty?” Director Filmore asked.

“Uh, never mind.” Dasia hung up on him and pushed into Dr. Holtz’s apartment.

The room was identical to every other single quarters in the LRF. The bed was made, the floor was clear of clutter. Dr. Holtz’s desk was folded up against the wall. The only sign of life was the running water in the bathroom.

Theo called, “Dr. Holtz?” into the bathroom, but no one answered. When he peeked around the door, he saw a pool of blood haloed around the late planetary colonies researcher. Her eyes were rolled back in her head, and her skin had the stark paleness of a cadaver.

It was a look Theo recognized.

“Dammit,” Dasia said under her breath. She knelt down and pressed two fingers to the carotid artery. “Think she had a bug?”

“Had to be. Check her.”

Dasia pulled a flashlight from her bag and shone it in the mouth, eye, and ear of the woman. She looked up at Theo and shook her head.

“Come on. Help me get her up.” Theo pulled a towel from the rack and pressed it to the wound at the back of her head.

“What? Where are we taking her?”

“To FIC. If she’s got a Slight, then Mable can get it out.” Dr. Holtz was a small woman, no more than 130 pounds, but she was the definition of dead weight. Theo had no choice but to throw her over his shoulder like a kidnapping victim. Hanging upside down, blood poured out of the wound.

It took a little finagling, but they finally worked it out. Theo carried the woman’s body down the corridor while Dasia walked behind with a towel pressed to the opening, both hoping the bug was still alive.

LRF-AQ

SEPTEMBER 16, 2232

“You’re still leaving?” Michael asked, though deep in his heart, he had already known the answer.

“I don’t have a reason to stay.” Abigail stood with arms crossed. She barely looked like herself. Her hair was loose and messed; her clothes were casual and comfortable. He wondered which was the real Abigail.

“There’s plenty of work to be done. Thousands of lives we can save.” The list of attacked cities hovered over his desk. Every hour or two, another was added, sometimes more. Intermixed were the names of colonies and colony ships, including the one that had been sent to Perkins-196, and the one that was programmed to take its place. Now, a third ship sailed through space to the strange planet, though Michael had his doubts it would ever arrive.

Dozens of cities. Dozens of colonies.

They were only names, but each represented millions of people who were killed. Maybe tens of millions.

“You don’t trust my judgement.”

“In all fairness, you did lie to me. You lied to me about everything.”

“I didn’t have a choice.”

“Just as I didn’t have a choice in the Ares Colony.” Michael reached out and put a hand on her arm, the only bit of contact they’d had in days.

Abigail looked at the ground, refusing to acknowledge him.

“Was it all a cover?” he asked.

“Not all of it.”

“Your name is Abigail?” Michael felt like an idiot for even having to ask. He’d known her—or thought he had—for nearly a year. He’d known her professionally as well as intimately, and here he was, asking her name.

“Everyone’s called me Abby since I was little.”

“And you’re not a Scholar?”

“I was a Craftsman. I worked in a genetics lab until I was fired. Silas picked me up, and I’ve been with CPI since.”

“Anything else?”

At last, she looked up at him. “I’m a brunette.”

“I think I can handle that.” Michael smiled. At least, down in the depths of it, their relationship had been real. “I really would like you to stay.”

“Because you need help?” she asked.

“Well, yes. I’m afraid you’re too good. You did your job so well I became reliant. I depend on you.”

Her eyes dropped and she turned away.

“And because I want you here,” he told her. He had to. If he didn’t tell her now, he’d regret it forever. “I need you here with me. I need
you
, Abby.”

She spun at the sound of her name, her real name. Michael saw the tears in her eyes from where he stood several feet away.

“Are you going to make me beg?”

Her resolve finally collapsed. She giggled and shook her head as she rushed him. He buried his face in a mound of messy blonde hair. Her arms wrapped around his neck and squeezed him tight.

Michael was a successful Scholar. He held one of the most prestigious positions in his class. In the face of so much death, in the catastrophes that would mar his name for centuries to come, he could only think of the woman he now held in his arms. He wasn’t accustomed to the intensity of the pounding in his chest. He was supposed to be reasonable, measured, unemotional. He was supposed to be able to resist her all along.

Logically, it was wrong in every way possible. But here, in the privacy of his office apartment with Abby hugged tight to his chest, Michael couldn’t bring himself to be guilty. He was only thrilled to have her stay, to have an opportunity to get to know her again.

When Abby touched back to the floor, her smile faded as he eyes locked on something behind him. Michael turned and saw the latest name appear on his screen: New York. In parentheses,
Total Loss
.

LRF-FIC

SEPTEMBER 16, 2232

Mable screamed as she threw the clamps across the room. Her hands flew to the body suit of the dead Scholar between her legs. She picked him up with great effort and slammed him into the table, as if that would wake him from death.

Four.

Four deaths in a row.

They were getting smarter. They were figuring out their plan. The bugs were in this to destroy humanity, and they were succeeding in admirable fashion.

Mable was on the losing end of the war.

Arrenstein grabbed her shoulders and pulled her down. “Maggie, you need to calm down. I’ll do the next one, just go take a break.” He all but pushed her toward the door.

“Let go of me,” she screamed at him. “People are dying. What am I supposed to do? Go take a nap? Fuck you.”

Vince stepped between them. “I’ll take over for a while. Go sit with Aida.”

“I’m not—”

“
Go. Sit. With. Aida
.” He walked to the far side of the room and retrieved her clamp. He slid them into a jar of antiseptic before the two men pulled the body from the table and heaped it with the others by the door.

Mable swallowed her angry frustrations and skulked over to Aida. She was the vision of cool and collected. Her hands lay clasped across her stomach, and her eyes were closed. She looked to be concentrating on her breathing, ignoring the deteriorating scene around her.

Reminded of what she was about to go through, Mable felt a twang of guilt. She had no right to be upset. No one had asked to infect her with a lethal parasite.

For every moment they wasted, thousands were dying. Another family would lose their Alex. Another worried mother lost their Kellan. Deep in the trenches of her own grief, Mable couldn’t stand to think of how many lives were destroyed because she was failing.

Mable couldn’t help but feel responsible.

Aida’s eyes flitted open as Mable settled at her side. “Still nothing?”

Mable stood between Aida and the growing pile of bodies by the door. She would have to figure out a better solution before Aida caught on to just how badly they were failing.

“Everything’s fine. The bugs are pretty temperamental outside the body. We’re just not fast enough.” Mable adopted Arrenstein’s plastic smile and hoped it did the job.

“You’re a terrible liar,” Aida replied.

“So I’ve been told.”

The next Scholar was a tall, slender man with a jaw that could cut ice. Vince stepped forward and said, “Open your mouth.”

“Why?” the man asked in protest.

Silas appeared and gassed him. The man collapsed into Vince’s arms and the two shuffled him to the table.

Then Theo burst through the door, Dasia tight on his heels. “Get that one down,” he commanded as he shuffled in with a body over his shoulder.

“What the hell, Kaufman?” Silas groaned.

“This is Holtz,” Dasia explained.

Mable lurched across the room and tugged at the man’s hip hard enough to get him half on the table and half on the floor. Vince took the weight of his shoulders and lowered him the rest of the way down.

“She had a Slight?” Mable asked.

“We don’t know. She was lying dead in her bathroom, but she doesn’t have the other three. Can you check her?” Theo asked as he heaved the woman onto the table.

“Flip her.” Mable snatched the clamps from the antiseptic jar and settled into her straddled position over the woman’s back. “Can you hand me that scalpel?” She held her hand out.

As soon as she felt the cool metal in her hand, Mable plunged it into the woman’s flesh. She had no intention of going lightly. The woman was already dead. Her only focus was the bug, the Slight that hid between two vertebrae.

Mable peeled back a huge portion of skin and muscle, a four inch square that flapped back when she pulled on it. There, between the bones, sat the Slight. It was wound tight around the brainstem, its tail extending down the spinal cord.

“Christ, Maggie,” Arrenstein said with a gasp.

Mable ignored him and adjusted the clamp in her hand. “Pull her over here. I want her right next to me, on her back.”

Vince pushed Aida’s table over so that the two hit with a loud metallic clank. From the corner of her eye, Mable could see Aida’s features change dramatically. Her coolness faded as she stared at Mable, her mouth half open with fear.

But Mable didn’t have time to worry about that.

As she’d done a dozen times already, Mable plunged the clamp between the vertebrae and pulled the Slight free. This time, with Aida close and with no concern over the host, Mable leaned over and set the bug on Aida’s cheek.

After a brief moment of screech, it scurried into her nose and disappeared.