Z 2136 (Z 2134 Series Book 3) (15 page)

Sutherland opened his eyes as someone lightly slapped his face. Several thoughts erupted at once, then suddenly he remembered the worst—what had happened, where he was, and the sour truth that he was waiting for mercy or death at the hands of another.

Sutherland thought of the shard under his pillow and told himself it would be enough. All he needed was the right opportunity and the patience to wait for it. However, someone had cuffed his hands and legs to the iron bedposts.

He tried not to panic.

As soon as he opened his eyes all the way, he saw who was slapping him—Connor Vinson, the man who Sutherland had been torturing not too many hours before.

He thought again of the shiv and saw himself running it first along Connor’s throat, then across his former second’s. He would go slower with Gallus, taking his time to let him bleed out, just as the traitor had taken his own sweet time while crafting betrayal.

Connor leaned down and smiled, “Well, hello there. Glad to see you’re awake.”

Sutherland cleared his throat and spit, catching the traitor’s puffy red eye. He’d earlier pulled the lid back far enough to make Connor scream like a baby in a boiling bath.

Connor calmly wiped his eye then leaned forward, practically daring Sutherland to try it again. Sutherland held his saliva, licking his lips as he pictured tearing into the bastard’s throat with his teeth, then feasting on his face like a starved zombie. Connor whispered, “I knew this moment was coming. Anticipation was enough to pass the time, knowing that the next time we were alone in a room, things would be so much worse.” His voice dropped to a whisper as the door swung open on the other side of the room. “For you, of course.”

Gallus stepped into Sutherland’s cell and quietly closed the door behind him looking almost . . . sad.

Gallus walked straight to Connor, set his hand on the puffy-eyed traitor’s arm, and leaned toward his ear. Connor nodded as Gallus whispered, then stepped back to the door as Gallus took Connor’s place beside Sutherland’s bed.

Gallus looked down at Sutherland’s restraints, then up into his eyes. “Can you talk?”

“Of course I can talk,” Sutherland snarled back. “Do you think I’m an idiot?”

“I mean can you be reasonable? Are you able to have a conversation?”

Sutherland wanted to yell and scream, to ask Gallus how he dared to be so bold and stupid. But his hands were restrained and both Gallus and Connor were armed. He’d have to be patient.

“I’m always reasonable.”

Gallus continued to prove his new brazen nature as he sat at the edge of Sutherland’s bed. His voice was calm and collected, thick with authority in a way that Sutherland had not heard before.

“This is all rather unfortunate.” Gallus took a moment to breathe before continuing. Sutherland had time to wonder if he was supposed to agree. “Things didn’t have to be this way.”

“What way?” Sutherland had to try not to spit. “You were supposed to be my second in command. Yet you
tricked
me. How else was this supposed to go?”

Voice still cool, Gallus said, “Yes, you had to be tricked, and that’s why you’re here. But you had to be, Sir. This is all your fault and a long time coming. It’s your fault for being so selfish. It’s your fault for the throne room. It’s your fault because you’ve displayed reprehensible leadership when all of us needed you most.”

“You
still
need me. Everyone knows it. Without me, this place will fall to either zombies or bandits, mark my words.”

“No, we don’t need you,” Gallus said, as Connor nodded behind him. “The only one who thinks you’re an effective leader is you. It wasn’t hard to turn your most trusted people against you.”

Still clinging, Sutherland argued: “No. You’re lying. I
will
be missed. I’ve been gone since last night. If I’m not seen at dinner and am still missing tomorrow, people will ask. Word will get out. The people,
my people,
will demand my release.”

Gallus laughed, sad more than mocking. “Do you really believe that? Do you really believe the people still love you? Can you really not see that they think you’re a joke?”

The words cut him like the shiv under his pillow, but he wasn’t defeated yet.

“Weak minds are easily twisted,” Sutherland said. “It is clear to see what has happened. Fortunately, there are always those who can see the danger we’re facing and are sure to see how grossly you have misjudged this situation. I demand to speak with Jeffries.”

Connor laughed from behind Gallus, clearly louder than Gallus liked, judging by his face. He said, “Oh, now it’s
you
making legal demands. That’s rich.”

Sutherland again pictured his shiv and imagined somehow breaking free, sweeping it from beneath the pillow before launching from the bed to slice the traitor’s throat. But he was forced to stay still. He was, after all, restrained. But he refused to stay quiet.

“You think you’re better than me? You think that somehow your injustices shine with a brighter light than mine? You preach from up high, yet you’re no different, denying what’s rightfully mine, legally and otherwise. Clearly we’re more alike than you think.”

“We’re nothing alike,” Connor said.

Sutherland laughed.

Gallus held his hands up to Sutherland: an awkward plea for peace.

Sutherland continued. “And you’re an idiot who has dug his own grave and fashioned his coffin.”

“Say what you will, Sutherland,” Gallus said, still looking sad. “It changes nothing.”

“Too bad for you,” Sutherland dared to smile. “I knew you were stupid but had no idea that your reason had rotted like it has. You’ve chosen the wrong side.”

“Only to you,” Gallus said in a whisper.

“History will prove me right. You’ll beg me not to kill you. But I won’t listen. When I’m freed, you will all hang like the cowards you are.”

Gallus sighed, stood, then turned from Sutherland. He went to the door where Connor was standing. Connor opened the door and held it for Gallus. Sutherland’s former second stepped through. Before he followed, Conner turned to Sutherland and whispered.

“Good luck making it to trial.”

The door closed and Sutherland made a vow: Connor would either be the first or last to die.

Ana paced, fuming as she stared at the locked lab door—pissed that Oswald had told her a zombie was on the loose, then stuffed her away like some sort of precious child rather than letting her fight like she’d done since her ejection from City 6. Ana was probably as good—if not better—with a gun than most of The Station’s residents. She could be out there, contributing, doing
something
.

But no, she was babysitting Calla instead.

The room was 20 feet long by 10 feet wide with giant metal refrigerated coolers on either side. The lab also had a desk and a chair where Calla had been sitting for the 10 minutes since they had been shoved into the chamber.

“Don’t worry, we’re going to be OK,” Calla finally said.

Ana stopped pacing, not wanting to make the little girl any more nervous or frightened than she might already be. If Calla could somehow remain calm, then Ana had to try and do the same.

“You’re right. I just don’t like being stuck in here.”

Calla looked up. “It’s OK, I understand.”

“What?” Ana asked, confused.

“I understand you not wanting to be stuck in here with me, when I could—well, you know.”

Turn into a zombie. I hadn’t thought of that, actually . . . and now it’s
all
I can think about.

“Shit,” Ana said. “No, I didn’t mean that at all. No, I want to be out there,
helping
. I don’t like being told to sit out while others are fighting, like I’m a helpless—”

She wanted to say
child
, but here in The Station, many children, Calla included, were already expected to fight.

“I know. Father has been doing the same thing with me ever since I got bitten. He almost never lets me go on hunts or anything. Not anymore. I had to fight hard to get him to let me go rescue you when we did.”

“He’s just trying to protect you,” Ana said. “Liam’s like that with me sometimes. My father was the same. Maybe it’s a man thing. Or maybe it’s just how you are with the ones that you love—you want to protect them.”

“Your father was very nice.”

For a long moment, it seemed like Calla was going to say something more, as if she had a specific story to tell. Instead, she looked down at the floor.

When Calla opened her mouth, she said, “I like your tunic.”

“Thanks. Rosemary gave it to me.”

“She’s nice. She’s been kind of like a mom. She’s not with Father or anything, but she’s always been there for me.”

“What happened to your mom?”

“She died a long time ago, back in City 6. But I don’t want to talk about that.”

Ana looked down. “Sorry.”

“It’s OK,” Calla still stared at the floor.

Ana suddenly felt an internal gnawing, that feeling that a zombie was near. She’d felt the sensation earlier but had lost it once she was locked in the room with Calla. Here it was again.

She looked down at the blaster, made sure it was charged, and looked at the door as if expecting it to slide open at any second. She could hear nothing on the other side, only the whir of warm air pressing through the vents, blending with the steady hum of the wall’s bank of refrigerated units.

Her heartbeat quickened as she resumed her pacing.

“What’s wrong?” Calla asked.

Something’s coming. Can you feel it?

Ana didn’t want to frighten the girl, especially if there was no way a zombie could enter their room.

“Nothing,” Ana said.

She heard a loud popping sound and looked up to see the metal air duct vent 15 feet above her swing open. Seconds later, a man dropped down from above.

Ana screamed, barely managing to dodge out of his way as the man fell to the ground. Ana tripped, landed hard beside him, and lost her blaster. It slipped from her hand and skidded across the floor.

She reached out to grab it but was too slow.

The man yanked it from the floor, turned it on Ana, and barked, “Get over there!”

The man was wearing nothing but a thin white shirt and only slightly thicker white cotton pants. He looked maybe 30, thin, gaunt even, with medium-dark, curly brown hair and a short beard. His eyes were brown, but the whites were red, like his swollen lids.

“Get over there!” he yelled again aiming the blaster between them, and moving it ever so slightly side to side so she’d stand next to Calla, making them easier to keep an eye on.

Ana stood up slowly, putting herself between Calla and the gunman. “It’s OK,” she said. “We’re not going to do anything.”

The man looked back at the door and pressed the green button on the wall beside it.

“Why won’t it open?” he shouted, turning back to them, gun shaking.

“We’re locked in,” Ana said, “to protect us from the zombie.”

The man laughed, shaking his head without explanation. He seemed crazed, as if on drugs. On TV, she’d seen people in The Dark Quarters acting weird like this guy. They’d been described as extremely dangerous and to be avoided at all costs.
Vermin, just as likely to slit your throat as rape you. Beware and report.

The man asked, “Is there a way out of here?”

“Not that I know of. Like I said, we’re locked in.”

Clearly the man was either messed up or stupid.

“Not this room,” he hissed, glaring at her. “Of this
place
. Wherever the hell we are.”

“Wait,” Ana said. “You’re not from here?”

He laughed that bitter laugh again, “No! They brought me here!”

Calla asked, “What are you talking about, mister?”

Ana looked back at Calla, trying to give her a look that said:
Do not attract attention to yourself. Let me deal with this.

“They fucking kidnapped me. They’ve been doing experiments or something.”

Ana’s heart pounded faster as she realized that the man must be the infected subject that Oswald said they found in The Barrens—the zombie she’d been sensing nearby, the one that had made the siren start to scream.

Only he didn’t seem to know he was infected.

As she looked closer at the man, Ana tried to see how near he was to turning. His eyes were red and reminded her of Duncan’s. He was shaking and sweating, but she couldn’t tell if he was about to turn now, with her and Calla in a locked room, or if he was merely frightened.

She had to calm him before his frazzled nerves caused him to change—or shoot them.

“I can help you get out of here,” Ana said.

“How?” the man asked.

“If you go back up into the air vent, you can crawl a bit farther, 20 feet or so that way, and drop down into the room next to this one. Then you can open the door and I can sneak you out of here.”

The man looked at Ana as if considering her offer. He seemed like he was about to accept but instead shook his head. “No. The girl goes up.”

“What?”

“Send her up. She can unlock the door from the other side.”

Ana was about to argue but realized she liked the idea. Get Calla out of the room, away from danger.

“OK,” Ana said. “Calla, can you go up there, crawl into the next room, and open the door?”

“Yes,” Calla almost whispered, her chin trembling, looking more afraid than Ana had seen her before.

“OK,” Ana said, explaining every move to the man so as not to startle him into shooting them both. “I’m going to move the desk under the air duct, then climb up with Calla and lift her to the vent, OK?”

“Yeah, yeah,” the guy said irritated, running a hand through his sweaty hair and squeezing it tight as if doing so would allow him to regain control of the situation.

Ana pushed the desk over, climbed up, then waited for Calla to scramble up onto the desk. As she did, Ana noticed how much the small girl was sweating and shaking.

“It’s going to be OK.” Ana turned to the man, “After she lets us out, you let her go, OK? I’ll take you to the exit. Nobody needs to get hurt.”

The man chewed his lip, hand still shaking, and tugged at his hair in thought.

“All right?” Ana repeated forcefully.

“Yeah,” he snapped.

Ana lifted Calla and, as she did, whispered, “Don’t open the door. Go get help.”

The girl nodded but said nothing as Ana lifted her up. She watched as Calla crawled into the duct, listening as the sound of banging metal faded away from their room.

The banging stopped a moment later, when Ana assumed Calla had dropped into the other room on her way to find help. Ana had to stall and keep the guy from what Calla was up to.

“So, what do you mean they took you and experimented on you? What happened?”

“Don’t act like you don’t know.”

“I’m not from here. I only arrived a couple of days ago. They took me in after I got sick.” Ana lied, trying to make it seem like the people holding him weren’t as bad as he thought—that they weren’t experimenting on him but rather were trying to cure him. “They helped me get better. Are you sick, too?”

“I wasn’t!” he said, still glaring at Ana as if she’d personally taken him. “They grabbed me in the middle of the night, stole me and another two from our camp. We didn’t do anything to deserve this.”

“Two others?”

“Yes, I was with Johan and Filner, two longtime mates. We have, or had, a camp near Yath River. Not a big place, but we managed. They came in the middle of the night and grabbed us all. I’m the only one left.”

“What happened to the others?”

“They turned them into zombies,” the man said, “and killed them.”

Ana shook her head. “No, they’re trying to help. Are you sure you weren’t infected before?”

“Hell no,” the man said, moving closer, spittle flying from his mouth through his anguished, angry cry. “They injected us with something! They turned my friends into monsters!”

Ana stared at his gun, now only aimed in her general direction. If she could inch closer, she might be able to snag the weapon from him. Ana was about to say something calming as she moved in, when the door suddenly opened behind the man.

Calla stood there, alone.

Ana stared in disbelief. Why hadn’t she run off and gotten someone?

Ana was shocked enough that she missed her chance to disarm the man. He aimed the gun at her again. “OK, girl, now you get me out of here.”

He waved his blaster, instructing Ana to move ahead.

She did as instructed, feeling him behind her, then looked down at Calla leaning against the exam table, holding her stomach.

Calla groaned, “I don’t feel good. I’m so cold.”

The color had completely left her face. She was sweating, her body shivering uncontrollably.

“What’s wrong?” Ana asked, reaching out to touch the girl. Calla was burning up, even though she said she was cold.

“I don’t know,” Calla said, swallowing and looking up at Ana, scared.

Ana realized that the infected man, by either proximity or by filling them with fear, might be causing Calla to change.

Oh no, no, no, no.

“I think it’s happening,” Calla said, voicing Ana’s fears aloud.