A clatter echoed through the hall, followed by the sound of a dart being fired. The marksman cursed his aim.
“Freeze! Hands where we can see them,” cried the lead soldier ahead.
Lucy trained her light on the entrance to the adjoining chamber. Three men stood huddled around a trolley, wearing soldiers’ uniforms.
“Don’t shoot – we’re unarmed, yo,” called the soldier in the middle, as all three raised their hands and looked away.
“Easy with the lights, man,” called another, beside him.
“Take your goggles off,” ordered the soldier ahead of Lucy.
“Bad idea – you guys should switch your lights off,” insisted the middle soldier, keeping his hands raised.
“On your knees, all of you – you’re in a restricted zone. Holy shit, I think we’ve got some deserters on our hands,” said the soldier by Lucy, pressing forwards.
Lucy, Ruth, Karys, and their respective military counterparts closed in on the men, who knelt with their hands in the air.
“Explain this,” said Lucy’s soldier, tapping the captive’s trolley with his boot.
“We gon’ burn them. We need fuel, like,” replied one of the soldiers. His voice was familiar.
“Take off the goggles already,” snapped Lucy’s soldier.
The captives peeled their night vision goggles off, letting them hang loosely around their necks. Lucy’s mouth dropped as she stared at the three soldiers. Hoffstein, Beckly, and Leckford; the very men who’d accused Lopez of being patient zero, and precipitated his incarceration. The same soldiers she knew to be infecteds themselves, and who she’d sent to the sanctuary days ago. The men looked thinner, but their lesions had gone. They weren’t visibly infected anymore. She’d helped them escape the Department of Health, which meant they owed her their freedom – if not their lives. But that didn’t mean they would honor the debt. If things went south, they might rat her out to save their own skins.
Lucy glanced at the marksmen around her. If they learned that she’d betrayed the department before, they could turn on her in an instant. That department had brought them the yellow-striped jackets. They were loyal to it. If they arrested her, it would be the end of the mission, and the start of a long enquiry that would lead the department to discover every infected Lucy had ever helped. She hung back in the shadows, not daring to reveal herself to Lopez’s men.
“You’re deserters, and you’re looting, and you’re trespassing in the Dead Zone. We’re taking you in,” fumed Ruth’s soldier.
“You’re lucky you idiots didn’t get shot, those darts are infected,” said Karys’s soldier.
A scuttling sound pricked Lucy’s attention. She trained her light on the source. A possum-like creature was making its way along the skirting boards, probing the dark cavities for food. The possum’s purple and white hairs stood on end as the light struck it. The creature hissed, bearing its teeth, then darted into the shadows, revealing a long, thick tail like a skunk’s, tipped with two barbs.
“Over here!” cried Lucy, grabbing her marksman and chasing after the creature.
“God dammit, watch these three,” ordered the second marksman, leaving Ruth to guard the prisoners as he and Karys hurried after the possum.
“There!” cried Lucy, catching the creature in her sights.
The possum darted upwards onto a shelf and raced along it. Lucy’s soldier fired twice, narrowly missing it. The possum dived into a row of books, bursting through the other side and disappeared into the lane beyond. Lucy leaped over a fallen branch from the rust tree as she ran. Karys was closing in from the other side, moving to flank the creature. A dart from the second marksman ricocheted off a light fitting, showering the wall with the powder-serum. The possum hissed as it sprang away from the exploding mist, running frenetically towards the termite mound.
“Before it hits the nest, quickly!” urged Lucy, struggling to keep the creature lit.
She sprinted to keep pace with it, dodging tables, chairs, and bookshelves as she ran. Her soldier fired a dart which struck the possum’s tail, throwing it off balance. The creature went into spasm, careering off-course and colliding with the bookshelf beside the mound.
“The net, now!” cried Lucy.
Karys fired the net gun precisely, ensnaring the infected creature. It hissed and twitched, trying to reach the dart with its mouth. As the sedative took effect, its motions became clumsy. Within a few seconds, it had slumped to the ground, drooling.
“Yes!” cried Karys, hi-fiving Lucy.
Her celebration was short-lived. A distinct beating of wings echoed across the arched ceiling.
“What was that?” said Lucy’s soldier, scanning the library.
The glass on his flashlight shattered as a long, dark needle struck it head-on. Oily black liquid seeped into the ruptured bulb.
“You’ve woken it, you assholes!” cried Leckford.
The group frantically scanned the ceiling. Another needle sped through the air, shattering Karys’s light.
“Kill your lights and don’t move!” urged Beckly.
Lucy obeyed and crouched low, cowering against a bookcase. She held her riot shield over her head, and peered up through it. Across the room, Ruth’s light flicked off. Only that of Karys’s marksman remained. He defiantly searched the upper balcony, chasing echoing wing beats, and illuminating glimpses of scruffy dark feathers. The soldier nearest Lucy fired his pistol, missing the nimble creature as it darted between crevices and shadows. Karys’s marksman cried out as his light shattered before him, snuffing the final light in the grand chamber.
A sinister clicking filled the air, followed by a swish, as the bird swooped across the chamber. Two shots fired out from the far end of the room, emitting ultra-quick bursts of light. Lucy glimpsed Ruth wearing the prisoners’ night vision goggles, with her pistol extended. The bird fell to the floor with a thud, and rasped, twitching from the carpet.
“Liar!” came a cry from beside Ruth.
A flashlight flicked on, blinding the older woman. Leckford seized her pistol, while Beckly wrestled the goggles from her eyes.
“You said y’all had special darts,” yelled Leckford.
“I said they do! Now get the hell off me, boy,” protested Ruth.
“Drop it!” cried Lucy, leaping up and training her rifle light on the group.
Leckford seized Ruth as a human shield. He pressed the pistol to her neck.
“She shouldn’t’a done that. Shooting that thing with regular ammo, you only makin’ it worse,” said Leckford.
“Let her go and you can tell me all about it,” said Lucy.
“Screw that. We gon’ leave now, and you ain’t followin’ us. Once we all clear, we’ll let grandma go,” said Hoffstein.
“No can do, fellas,” replied Karys’s marksman. “Just turn yourselves in. You’ll get a court-martial but it’ll be quick, and you’ll be back on duty in no time. The generals need boots on the ground. No point you three dying over this.”
“Back on duty? I ain’t never goin’ back. I loved my country, I served my country, and y’all betrayed us. Never again,” spat Leckford.
“What are you talking about? Nobody’s betrayed you, dipshit, you’re a deserter,” called Karys’s marksman.
“There’s more to it that than. They’re infecteds. Isn’t that right, Beckly?” said Lucy.
The use of Beckly’s name stirred concerned mutters among the rebel trio, and similar mutterings on Lucy’s side, which she ignored. As the groups hastily conferred among themselves, the marksman beside Karys quietly shifted into position, out of sight, hiding in the shadows behind Lucy. Out of the corner of her eye, Lucy watched him raise his rifle and take aim.
A needle shot through the darkness, shattering the flashlight Hoffstein was pointing at Ruth.
“Nobody move!” cried Leckford.
Lucy trained her light on the dead bird, but it was nowhere to be seen. All that remained were a few shaggy black feathers, and a sh
een of spilled Gen Water.
A fresh set of wingbeats echoed across the room. A second pair joined them. The glass on Lucy’s flashlight shattered.
“Stay still – they can’t hear us speak, but they sense movement. Go real slow, and do exactly what I say,” said Leckford.
With a flutter, one of the birds ascended to the balcony, then cast off with a swoosh. It soared over the chamber, clicking as it scanned for movement. Lucy’s blood froze as the second bird descended onto the bookcase beside her. The creature’s talons scratched against the wood as it clambered across the varnished surface, casting its clicks into the darkness in a sweeping motion.
“Why are we helping these fools? You know what they’re doing to people like us,” protested Beckly.
“We owe her,” hissed Hoffstein.
The possum beside Lucy shifted in its netting, waking drowsily. The soldier beside her sensed the movement and drew his tranquilizer gun as steadily as he could. He fired a dart into the creature, causing the possum to spasm once again.
Without thinking, Lucy threw her arm out, casting her shield over the captured creature. A needle flew into the thick plastic. Fault lines spread across the shield with a crackle. They quickly filled with black oil.
The soaring bird swooped down and landed on the bookcase, where the other greeted it with a hiss. The pair clicked through the darkness, scratching their way along the wood. The hairs on Lucy’s neck prickled as the creatures leaned over the top of the ledge, clicking down at the unconscious possum. The shield was growing heavy. She could feel her muscles burning as she tried to stay rigid, but her arm was beginning to tremble. The birds’ clicks grew in intensity as they leaned closer, stooping down to map every contour of her group’s position.
A high-pitched clang echoed from the aisles beyond Lucy; the sound of metal striking a shelf. The birds, detecting the movement, shot off from their perches towards the source.
“This way, while they’re distracted. Follow my voice – hurry,” called Leckford.
Lucy redoubled her grip on the possum’s net and dragged it towards his voice. She felt her way through the darkness, flinching as her fingers touched on algae and discarded webs, praying none of it was toxic.
“They comin’ back. Freeze!” called Hoffstein.
Lucy stopped rigid, her foot hovering above the ground as the clicking birds circled the chamber, searching for the source of the disturbances.
“We’re going to turn this flashlight on, and throw it across the ground. When they go for it, you people gotta run for my voice,” said Leckford.
Lucy braced herself. A jet of light shone out from the archway and hurtled across the carpet. The birds swept after it in a flurry of clicks. The flashlight came to a halt against a far bookcase, close to a corner. Its light bounced upward, bathing the alcove in a warm glow, which was scattered further by the ice-white webbing covering the upper shelves. The birds’ needles ricocheted off the tough metal casing, struggling to reach the lens in its nestled position.
Lucy and her marksman sped towards Leckford’s voice. She could just make out the others running beside her in the reflected light. One of the birds doubled back, sensing the group’s motion. It dived towards Lucy. With a cry, she flung the plastic shield away, sending it shattering against the wall. As she neared the infected soldiers, the ambient light vanished.
Lucy gasped as a hand closed around her wrist.
“Hold onto my shoulder and follow me,” said Beckly.
Lucy struggled to keep up. Several times his shoulder escaped her grasp, and she lurched forwards, clumsily grabbing him again as he charged through the darkness using his goggles. Lucy’s marksman followed close on her heels, dragging the other half of the possum’s net.
Suddenly he fell to the ground, cursing. Lucy froze. She felt a brush of air beside her. Someone was moving through the darkness between them. She felt the pistol disappear from her holster. A strong arm grabbed her in a headlock, while another pair of hands wrestled her rifle away.
“Leave it!” ordered Beckly, several yards away, as he disarmed Karys in the darkness.
“Get away from the door!” cried Hoffstein, as a clicking rang out across the hallway.
Lucy dived forwards, blindly. She landed hard on polished wood. Somewhere behind her, a set of doors slammed shut.
Someone’s marksman cried out beside her. A light flicked on. Lucy couldn’t see who was holding it, but it must’ve been one of the infected soldiers. The light was trained on Karys’s marksman. A needle protruded from the top of the man’s back, between his shoulder blades. He writhed in panic, wrestling his flak jacket off and flinging it to the side.
He sat, panting, reaching over his shoulder and feeling around the patch where the needle had struck.
Hoffstein’s voice sounded from the shadows. “You was lucky. Jacket there done saved your life. But, oopsie, looks like it’s leakin’ now. Strange thing for a vest to do. Gets me wonderin’, what might it be?”
He stepped towards the marksman and picked up the dripping jacket. He examined it at arm’s length then tossed it down beside the soldier. Blood seeped out of the vest, where it mingled with black poison from the needle.
“That your blood?” said Hoffstein.
The marksman squinted up at him.
“It’s from an infected,” he stammered.
“An infected what?” said Hoffstein, stepping closer.
“Ah, uh, prisoner?” said the marksman.
“Someone’s blood was spilled to save your life. Let’s see how you fare when it’s your blood being spilled,” said Hoffstein, kicking the marksman in the chest.
The man fell backwards with a grunt, cursing the infecteds. The other marksmen twitched, unable to intervene, as Beckly and Leckford kept them at gunpoint.
“God damned hypocrites,” said Lucy, stooping down beside the fallen marksman as Hoffstein raised his boot again.
“What you call me?” said Hoffstein.
“You heard,” fumed Lucy. “These soldiers are just doing their jobs. If you weren’t infected, you’d still be serving, and you’d be wearing these jackets same as them. Don’t pretend otherwise. You had no issue reporting your own Major when you thought he was the cause of the outbreak, so don’t try and claim the moral high ground now that it’s you on the receiving end.”
Lucy helped the marksman to his feet.
“This is different. These assholes know they’re betraying their own people. Now they’re wearing those crimes like a badge of honor,” spat Hoffstein.
“Listen to me. This creature we’ve captured, it will change things. I’ve got a solution to the blood jackets – you have to trust me. But if we lose three soldiers on this mission, they won’t let us do another, and the chance to change things will be gone,” insisted Lucy.
A crackling sound emanated from the chamber behind. An orange glow ebbed through the crack in the door.
“Holy crap, did you idiots do that?” said Lucy’s marksman.
“Us? Y’all were the ones who fired steel core rounds in a room full of paper!” cried Hoffstein.
“This whole place is gonna go up. We need to tell the fire department,” said Karys.
“No way they’ll send fire trucks to a dead zone,” said Leckford.
The crackling beyond the door grew louder, as rows of dusty books ignited. Smoke wafted through the cracks.
“Beckly, let us go,” urged Lucy.
He glared at her.
“If any of you try to follow us, we will shoot you. Understood?” said Beckly.
He, Hoffstein, and Leckford backed away to the far side of the room. The light disappeared with a click. Cold air rushed in as a fire door was kicked open, only for it to immediately slam shut again. Lucy blinked, trying to adjust to the faint orange glow slipping in from the main chamber.
“Which way did they go?” called Karys, through the darkness.
“I don’t know. Everyone feel the walls for an exit!” cried Ruth’s
marksman.
The crackling had given way to a roar from the chamber. Lucy coughed as the smoke grew thicker.
“This way!” cried Ruth.
Lucy grabbed the net and ran towards the cold dark air.
***
“Hold it still,” insisted Karys.
“What do you think I’m trying to do?” grunted Lucy.
She jumped back again, narrowly avoiding the creature’s barbed tail, while trying to hold the ropes firm. The possum had awoken en route, and was fighting the tangled net fiercely. Its purple and blue hair bristled as it hissed through its teeth in warning.
“Got it!” cried Ruth, latching a lasso-tipped pole around the creature’s neck.
They cut the rest of the net away, and secured the possum’s other limbs with similar poles. With the rabid creature pinned down, and its sharp tail secured, Lucy wheeled the surgical trolley beside it. Karys and Ruth held the creature still, protected by their thick hazmat suits.
Lucy shaved a strip of the possum’s fur off its hind leg, revealing sweaty purple skin beneath. She recoiled in disgust.
“You good?” asked Karys.
“Fine,” said Lucy, lying. Her hand lingered on her abdomen for a moment as she regained her composure.
Lucy sponged the purple skin down to disinfect the site. A meandering vein ran close to the surface. She picked up a large needle and pressed it through the possum’s tough skin. The creature jerked in shock. Lucy cursed as the syringe jolted, tearing the perforated skin further apart. Gen Water and blood trickled out from the wound. Ruth and Karys pressed harder on the restraints, stretching the possum like it was on a medieval rack. Lucy held the limb firm with one hand, and straightened the needle. She could feel the creature quivering with fear.
She connected the intravenous drip and stepped back, staring nervously at her patient. A bag of infected human blood hung from the medical stand. It flowed smoothly down into the twitching, shackled creature. They’d exhausted their supply of white powder on the darts, and though the possum had been twice hit in the library, Lucy needed to accelerate the creature’s disease as quickly as possible. To her shame, that meant using more blood from Harvey’s supplies.
Convulsive Box Set Page 72
