Z 2136 (Z 2134 Series Book 3) (26 page)

After breaching the station’s entrance, Keller and Kern stood frozen at the end of a large hallway staring at a holocaust of ripped bodies, corpses melted by blaster fire, blood and guts painting walls. Keller fought hard to control the vomit climbing his throat.

Infected men, women, and children, maimed but not yet dead, stared up at them, attempting to reach out for a meal or help.

“My God,” Kern said, a rare moment of shock registering through the hardened soldier’s shell.

Keller flashed back to carnage from the bombing that had killed his eight-year-old son, Joshua, along with 16 others at the parade, detonated by Underground cowards. Keller remembered staring down at his son’s dead, open eyes after shrapnel had ripped through his skull. No matter how hard Keller had stared and sworn that his son was alive, he hadn’t been able to change the truth that Joshua had not stared back.

Keller had done more than his fair share of despicable things in service to The State, but he’d never slaughtered innocents, or women and children.

Sutherland was the worst kind of coward and had to be stopped.

Keller considered putting these poor people out of their misery but couldn’t waste time or ammunition, not yet knowing what might be waiting in the station’s bowels.

A second hunter orb entered the hallway, and Keller instructed it to go forward and find Sutherland while the first held guard behind them. The machine floated further down the hallway and started to shoot. Keller had instructed it to open fire upon the infected, zombies, and any attackers. He hoped that any station survivors didn’t mistake orbs for enemies and mistakenly shoot at them.

Keller and Kern trailed the path of carnage behind the orb. They stepped into a brightly colored area and saw more half-disintegrated bodies but no sign of Sutherland or his men.

A voice crackled throughout the room from unseen speakers.

“Come out, come out, wherever you are.”

“This fucker is taunting us?” Kern looked at Keller incredulously. “Let’s go—”

An explosion rocked the hallway behind them.

Keller spun to see their guard orb fall to the ground, now a chunk of molten metal. A large man in stolen City Watch gear stood holding a hefty Spinner 1220, the massive gun’s coils spinning in bright red as it charged, readying 40 rapid-burst blasts to send their way.

The man’s eyes were wild behind his helmet’s clear glass, his grin manic. He was in kill mode, eager to add bodies to the count.

Both Kern and Keller fired their blaster rifles as the man unleashed his weapon’s fury.

Kern vanished in a cloud of ash as Sutherland’s man turned the Spinner toward Keller.

Keller kept firing. His first two shots had missed.

Another miss meant death.

His third and fourth hit, blasting the man in the chest and sending him back. As he fell, his Spinner fired wildly into walls, the ceiling, and very nearly Keller, who dove to the ground. The Spinner stopped and its red lights faded.

Keller looked over at Kern’s remainders scattered in ashes across the charred ground—a man reduced to nothing in a flare.

There was no time for mourning. Nor would a soldier like Kern care for the waste. He would be given a hero’s funeral even if Keller couldn’t tell the man’s family or anyone in City 1 how he died—or have a body to show for it. That’s what happened in an unsanctioned battle hunting a terrorist that The State refused to acknowledge.

Keller got up and grabbed the heavy gun. Seconds later, the remaining orb raced back into the hallway, eager to show him something. City Watcher Reynolds was on-screen back at City 6—one of the few people Keller trusted with this off-book mission.

“Sir, there’s something you need to know.”

“What is it?”

“The orb has picked up a reading nearby.”

“What?” Keller wished Reynolds would get to the point before another of Sutherland’s men sneaked up on him. If they were all packing Spinners, he wouldn’t be so lucky a second time.

“The orb is picking up signs of Ana Lovecraft.”

“Where?” Keller asked, heart racing.

The map showed her two halls over and one level down. It showed a thermal video of a girl lit red, pacing. Two shapes were on the floor, also red. Actually, three—one looked like a person torn in half.
Did she kill them?

Keller couldn’t be certain it was Ana pacing but couldn’t imagine the girl had found someone to remove her ID chip.

“Why is she here?” Keller asked, confused, as if Reynolds might have an answer.

“I have no idea, Sir. I thought she was dead.”

Reynolds wasn’t among the few who knew of The Network’s duplicity: faking Ana and Liam’s deaths on instruction of The State.

“No,” Keller said. “She’s very much alive. Are you getting a reading for Liam Harrow or anyone else from City 6?”

“No, Sir.”

Keller stared at the short video of Ana’s frame stalking back and forth.

“Is she infected?” Keller asked.

“It’s hard to tell. Her movements aren’t erratic. But she may not be showing signs yet.”

Or she’s immune?
Keller wondered.

“What do you want to do, Sir?”

“Follow me,” Keller said to the orb as he headed down the hall holding the Spinner with both hands, eager to unleash its lethal blast on Sutherland.

Ana would have to wait.

Ana paced as she waited for Sutherland’s voice to come back and taunt her.

She looked down at Calla, still on the floor, motionless but breathing. She couldn’t allow that bastard to hurt her.

He’d killed Egan. He was responsible for Oswald’s death. And he’d been responsible for her father’s, even if it was Keller who had murdered him in front of the world. It was all she could do not to charge out the door, find the bastard, and take him out herself. But there was no one else left to protect Calla.

And there was no way Ana could leave the girl lying on the floor, even if the room was hidden. Someone would find her, either Sutherland’s thugs or one of the infected.

Or, if Ana died, nobody would find Calla, and she’d never wake up.

Don’t think like that.

She’s going to live!

Perhaps not so strangely, her almost maternal instincts toward Calla made her think of her other “family,” and Ana wondered how Liam and Katrina were doing. Had they found Adam? Or had they failed and were they already dead?

There had been so much death in the past two years. First her mother, then nearly everyone she came into contact with. It was so hard to believe that just two years ago, her greatest concern had been taking another aptitude test so she could stop sewing buttons. And while Ana had loved her family, she’d still taken them for granted, thinking they’d always be there.

She thought how she used to chase Adam around the house tickling him until he was screaming for help. Then Mom would come and tickle her, and Father would come and tickle Mom, until they were all in a pile, laughing, red-faced and out of breath on the floor.

That was all gone.

She couldn’t continue alone.

Ana was a fugitive from her State, no City would have her. She was enemies with Sutherland, and who knew how far that animosity stretched in The Barrens? How many camps would consider her an enemy?

She could maybe return to Paradise, but she’d been kicked out of there right after her bite.

She was a girl without a home, friends, or family.

Alone in hell.

Stop it! You don’t know that Adam’s dead. He, Liam, and Katrina could come back at any minute. Stop it!

Would Father do this?

Or would he suck it up and do what had to be done?

She sank to the ground, putting Calla’s head in her lap, running her hands through the girl’s hair to hopefully coax her awake and give Ana something to believe in.

Startled by a knock on the door, she reached for her blaster, slipping a finger through its trigger but still holding Calla’s head in her lap.

Go away! Nobody’s here!

A man’s voice spoke. “Ana, open up.”

She set Calla’s head gently on the ground and stood, gripping her blaster with two hands, aiming at the door, not saying a word.

It didn’t sound like Sutherland, but it also didn’t sound like anyone she knew. But she also couldn’t think of who knew she might be in here. She didn’t think it sounded like Oswald, even if he were somehow alive.
Maybe Father Truth?

“Ana, I’m here to help.” The voice returned, coming through a speaker, likely in a chem suit helmet, so altered a bit. It was familiar but not enough to place it—too deep to be Sutherland, though it could’ve been one of his men trying to coax her out.

She stood her ground, silent.

“Stand back, Ana, I’m going to open this door. Don’t shoot, or you will be killed. Along with your friend.”

That voice, so familiar . . .

Ana backed against the wall and crept toward the corner, standing at an angle from the entrance. She crouched low, assuming that whoever came in would be looking straight ahead and shooting high.

She might have the advantage.

She trained her gun on the door, hands shaking.

If she screwed this up, she and Calla would pay.

“I’m coming in, Ana. Three . . . two . . . one.”

The door clicked—
how did he unlock it from the outside?
—and slid open.

Ana aimed the blaster, ready, hoping she wasn’t about to fire on a friend.

A hunter orb hovered into the room, cannon glowing blue, a voice commanding from the speaker, “Put the gun down or you will die.”

A hunter orb?

City Watch?

Or maybe one of Egan’s?

She’d seen at least two orbs since her arrival, plus the one Elijah had taken when he and his crew saved her, Liam, and Katrina.

Its screen was dark as it hovered before her. She could fire and maybe even hit it but not before it killed her. Hunter orbs in close quarters were hard to take advantage of, and Ana didn’t know if it was friend or foe.

“Put the gun down!” the voice repeated.

The same voice, from outside the door at an angle she couldn’t see, said, “Listen to the orb, Ana.”

“OK.” Ana put her gun down.

The orb said, “The room is clear.”

The man who had murdered her father stepped into the room, and she immediately regretted lowering her weapon.

Sutherland couldn’t believe his people’s careless stupidity. The men at the front entrance weren’t responding. Nor were any others, except Michaels, who was searching for Ana and the girl, taking out infected as he went.

Where the fuck is everyone?

Then there was Horrance. The idiot had somehow lost Ana
and
killed the only person Sutherland could count on to finish the cure. Horrance was a special kind of stupid, the kind that came along only once in a generation, whose mom had been too stupid to drown him in the river once she saw what she’d given birth to.

He glared at the man as he paced, waiting for Ana.

Horrance said, “I don’t think she’s coming.”

“No, really? You don’t fucking say!” Sutherland shouted at the ogre, wanting to cleave his head from his shoulders.

As Horrance turned away, looking like he might cry, Sutherland reminded himself to breathe deep, in and out, and relax a little. He couldn’t afford to kill Horrance. Nor could he forget that Horrance, as useless and stupid as he was, had helped him escape from Hydrangea when all was lost.

He breathed in, counting to five, then out, again counting to five, wishing he had some Crash. Sweet chemical relief. It would be a while before he could indulge. Sutherland had to function at his peak level while he found Ana, then cleaned these corpses from the station.

Maybe give the place some fresh paint. Something whimsical, like yellow and pink.

He had an idea.

He turned to Horrance and smiled slow and wide.

“What is it, boss?”

“We’ll drive her out if she won’t come to us.”

Keller was in a full chemical suit, but Ana thought she would recognize the ugly bastard’s crow nose anywhere. He lifted the black glass on his helmet to reveal a clearer glass beneath it.

She reached for the blaster.

The orb fired and melted the weapon. Ana’s hand stopped inches from a gooey stew of metal and plastic.

She pulled back.

“Stay put or I will put you down.”

Keller aimed the largest gun at Ana that she had ever seen. A circular glass tube with swirling red lights spinning through it wound around the stock of the weapon.

“You bastard.” She scowled. “I’m going to kill you.”

“I’m trying to save you, child.”

“I don’t need your saving. Leave!”

“What about the girl?” Keller looked down at Calla. “I know you hate me right now, and I have plenty to explain, but we must get you and the girl out of here.”

Ana swallowed, looking down at Calla.

“How is it that neither of you are infected?”

Ana didn’t want to tell the truth—that Calla was infected, or that Ana herself had been—as both admissions could jeopardize their freedom.

“We tested immune,” she lied.

“Both of you?” Keller asked. “How is that?”

“I don’t know.” Ana turned it back on Keller. “What are you doing here? Why should I trust you?”

“I came to capture Sutherland. He was behind The City 1 attack.”

“So my father was innocent?” Ana spit out.

“Your father was hardly innocent. But I’m not here to argue your father’s guilt or innocence. As I said, we have much to discuss, but I’m not your enemy.”

Sutherland’s voice came over the intercom.

“Attention, residents of this godforsaken hellhole. I’ve decided that I don’t want your precious train station after all. Blood is so hard to scrub from the walls. So I’ll be leaving, but I should warn you that my men have set bombs around The Station’s perimeter, and they’ll be detonating in 10 minutes. If you want to live—I’m talking to you, Ana and Calla—if you want amnesty, all will be forgiven. You can come with me. But hurry, the clock
is
ticking. Quite literally. Meet me outside The Station and we’ll put all this nastiness behind us.”

A long pause, then: “Or you can stay here and die. Your choice, but I’m tired of playing nice. Good day, Ana.”

“Does he really have bombs?”

Keller’s voice sounded very nervous, not full of the bravado he’d had the last time she spoke with him. She wondered what he’d gone through in getting this far into The Station.

“I have no idea,” Ana answered. “Do you think he’s lying? Do you think it’s a trap?”

“It’s almost certainly a trap. But we can’t take the chance he’s lying about the bombs. He did have weaponized zombie virus, so clearly he’s got access to whatever he needs to bring this place down.”

“What are we going to do?” There was no
we
—and she hated herself for slipping it into the sentence. She was not on Keller’s side. But, at the same time, she had to figure the best play for the hand she had been dealt. Just as her father would advise.

He turned to the orb and its on-screen Watcher. “How long would it take for more orbs to back us up?”

“Twenty minutes, Sir. Maybe more. That would include the risk of someone at City Watch discovering the request. Would you like me to order more, Sir?”

Keller shook his head. “We don’t have time. We’ll play this by ear.”

Keller looked at Ana. “You two coming with me?”

“I’ll have to carry her,” Ana said. “She hit her head.”

“OK, then you stay behind me. The orb will take the lead. Here . . .” Keller reached down and stripped a blaster pistol from his belt.

As her hand closed around the gun’s handle, Keller pulled it back until she met his eyes. “Don’t shoot me in the back. The orb will kill you both. Understood?”

“Yes.” Ana yanked the pistol away. He smiled ruefully. “You can always try to kill me after we get out of here alive.”

“You better have a good plan,” she said, ignoring his efforts at . . . whatever he was trying to do. She knelt down and gathered Calla in both hands.

“I’m sure it’s better than hiding in here and waiting to die,” Keller said, ordering the orb into the hallway.

They followed one corridor after another. Their route didn’t feel familiar, but Ana felt too defeated to map it. She stepped over bodies, horrified. A small girl—Ana thought her name was Lora—had shared her mom’s homemade cookie with Ana yesterday. Now she was staring up at Ana with eyes that couldn’t blink. Her throat was gouged out, eaten or torn from the rest of her.

My fault.

Ana swallowed, longing for it all to be over, as she followed the orb and told herself with every step that soon enough she wouldn’t ever again be forced to make another horrible decision. She tried to think ahead, to what Keller would do with her and Calla once they got free, but she couldn’t fall into that trap of wishful thinking. There were undoubtedly enough actual traps ahead.

It was one step at a time, until they were clear of this terror.

After several turns through many halls, she finally realized where they were—just outside the exit tunnel. However, there was a fire at the entrance to the tunnel. Black smoke rolled toward them, stinging and clouding her eyes. Ana wondered if the fire had been set intentionally or was simply a result of the chaos.

She wanted to stop and turn around. She called out for Keller, but he kept moving forward into the smoke. She had no choice but to follow him into the darkness. There was sudden rain from the sprinklers, but it did little to smother the smoke.

She coughed as she struggled to hold Calla and navigate the darkness. The heat was intense, covering her face and body with a second skin of sweat that blended with the water. She blinked, struggling to peer through the thick haze.

Calla started coughing and slipped from Ana’s wet hands.

Ana stopped, grabbed the girl’s body in the dark, choking on smoke as she picked Calla up again.

She was lost in the inky darkness, blind, not sure which way to go. Ana tried to cry out for Keller but could only cough. She turned, trying to decipher direction, but everything was black.

Oh, God!

Then Keller stepped in front of Ana, shining his light on her and Calla.

“I have a thermal view in my helmet,” he said. Ana was struck by the ever-increasing softness in his voice. Almost kind. “Stay close and I’ll get us through.”

Keller charged deeper into the wall of smoke. Ana carried Calla, stumbling after him.

Calla began to choke again, the smoke probably burning her lungs just like it was burning Ana’s.

“It’s OK,” she whispered to Calla.

Ana looked up, blinking into the smoke. She saw daylight ahead, clean like a promise. The sight gave her strength. She tightened her grip around Calla and rushed forward, passing Keller, hope fueling her flight to fresh air.

“Come back!” Keller called behind her. “Be careful!”

Calla was heavy in her arms, but Ana couldn’t bring herself to care. Keller wasn’t shouting—or shooting—as he fell farther behind.

Ana fled the tunnel into the daylight and fell with Calla in the snow, both of them breathing in deep gasps of air and coughing the smoke from their lungs.

We’re alive!

The joy was short-lived. The hunter orb raced past them and fired into the woods.

Someone fired back, a blast of energy tearing through a tree to Ana’s left.

Keller sped from the tunnel and put himself between Ana and the gunmen in the woods, opening fire with the giant gun.

“Stay down!” he yelled.

Snow and rock kicked up around Ana as she lay on top of Calla, pressing the girl into the snow, hoping to make a low, barely there target.

Keller blasted the tree line, screaming as if it somehow helped scare the men away.

The gunfire was deafening, but Ana could still hear Calla bellowing in her ears. She was trying to push Ana off of her and crying loudly for her father. “Daddy! Where are you?”

Ana hugged Calla, glad that she seemed to be coming to but also afraid she would get scared and run straight into danger. Ana did her best to keep the girl beneath her and out of the line of fire.

Keller ceased fire long enough to investigate the perimeter. He called to her, “Wait here. I’m going to make sure it’s safe.”

Ana’s ears were ringing as she turned, still on the ground, and watched her father’s killer walk into the woods, the hunter orb just ahead of him firing off shots at either Sutherland’s troops or zombies.

The ringing began to fade in Ana’s ears. She was about to get up and off of Calla when she felt a blade at her throat.

Her hand tightened on her blaster, then the blade pressed into her skin and she softened her grip.

Someone pulled the blaster from her hands, then yanked her to standing, peeling her from Calla.

She turned to see Sutherland.

Calla cried out.

Sutherland yelled at the little girl, “Shut up or I’ll kill her!”

Calla looked up at Sutherland, terrified, then toward the tree line, searching for a Keller who was no longer there, gone along with the orb.

Ana wondered if Sutherland was fast enough to have ended both the orb and Keller before she could notice.

“Now, now, little Calla,” he said in a syrupy, sick voice. “There’s nothing to be afraid of. If I wanted you dead, you’d already be dead. But look, you’re both still alive! Now, I’m going to remove this knife from Ana’s neck and you are both going to follow me. Do you understand? Nod if you do, Ana.”

Ana nodded, the knife still sharp and cold against her throat.

“Calla? Do you understand?”

Calla was clearly frightened and could barely look back at Ana. Ana gave the girl a small nod, and she nodded in return.

“Good,” Sutherland said, removing the knife, then training his blaster on Ana. “Now let’s go. You lead the way, Ana, so I can keep an eye on you.”

“Where are we going?” Ana asked as they marched forward, in the opposite direction that Keller had gone.

Still pleasant, Sutherland said, “To find my truck, so we can get the hell out of here.”

They walked for a few minutes, the cold wind picking up and bringing snow. Ana shivered in her soaking clothes. If Sutherland didn’t kill her, hypothermia might.

“What happened to my father?” Calla asked, stopping to face her captor. Ana stopped as well.

Sutherland stopped clomping. He looked at the girls, brushed snow from his jacket, then focused on Calla. “I’m very sorry, dear, but your father won’t be coming with us. Unfortunately, he’s dead. Now, this wasn’t my fault. Your father was an enemy and made the silly mistake of standing in my way. Honestly, it’s not personal.”

Calla clearly disagreed.

Something broke inside her. She rushed Sutherland, blindly flailing on her way to attack. Ana watched in slow motion as the girl lurched toward him. He made a fist, reeled back, and punched Calla hard in the face.

Calla cried out. Ana wasn’t sure if she imagined the sound of something snapping before she saw the very real fountain of blood spraying from the girl’s broken nose.

Calla dropped to the ground. Sutherland arrogantly turned his back to Ana, kneeling over the girl. Ana was through with hesitating today.

She charged at Sutherland.

Sutherland, as if waiting for Ana’s stupidity, turned toward her before she could reach him, sword drawn.

He swung his blade in a wide arc that cut the air in front of Ana, forcing her to stop and hurl herself backward.

Instead, she slipped and fell on her ass, barely missing the blade the first time. Then Sutherland took another swipe.

He stabbed through her leg. She screamed, soaking wet and freezing, blood spilling from a leg on fire. Sutherland stood over her, holding his sword as if deciding whether to end Ana now.

Ana heard something like a dog growling and looked over to see Calla gritting her teeth, shaking her head, and rushing Sutherland a second time. Calla landed on his back, grabbed on, and used her weight to knock him down to the ground.

His sword fell just a couple of feet from Ana.

Calla punched Sutherland in the back of the head furiously, getting in several blows before he screamed out loudly enough to shake Ana’s core.

Then he shook Calla off, grabbed her, and threw her nearly four feet ahead of him where she landed in a gasp.

Sutherland walked over to her, balling his fists, as she tried to crawl away. He dropped on top of her, straddling her, and punched her twice in the stomach.

Ana cried as she tried to stand, but her leg betrayed her and she fell to the ground.

Sutherland turned back, just to make sure she wasn’t a threat. He laughed at her helplessness, then put his hands around Calla’s throat, choking her.

“Look what you did, Ana! Just
look
what you’ve made me do!”

Ana slithered toward his sword, but the pain was intense, and moving her leg made it feel like the limb was exploding.

Ana’s heart hammered in her frozen chest as she pulled herself forward, knowing she’d never reach Calla before Sutherland killed her.

She called out, “You coward!”

Sutherland kept choking the girl, ignoring her taunts.

“You fucking coward, you’re gonna kill a child?”

Sutherland ignored her, laughing as he leaned closer to Calla, perhaps to better look into her eyes and whisper some horrible thing while snuffing out her life.

The monster!

Ana reached out despite the pain, fingers clawing at the cold, wet snow, searching for purchase to pull herself forward.

But the sword, like Calla, felt a million miles away.

Ana could do nothing to save her.

Calla was going to die.

And so was she.

Ana heard the footfalls of someone running up from behind.

Oh, God, zombies!

But when she looked back, it wasn’t the shuffling undead. Instead, it was a tiny shape racing toward them. It took a moment before Ana registered the figure as Father Truth.

The dwarf grabbed the blade—almost as tall as he was—and yelled out an incoherent scream of syllables, still racing forward.