Knight Awakening (The Scorpius Syndrome Book 6)

by Rebecca Zanetti

  Lynne sipped thoughtfully. “You know, we raided several pharmacies a while back, and many had medications for schizophrenia. Have you considered maybe trying some?”

  Vinnie pursed her lips. “Sure, but there’s always so much trial and error with those kind of drugs, and we’re bound to be out of stock at some point, so why take the risk? Lucinda is a pain in the butt, but she is also harmless.” Vinnie sighed and looked at the vacant spot again. “Yes, you are. Deal with it.”

  “If it gets any worse, you have to let me know,” Penelope said quietly. She might have to recommend medication at some point, anyway.

  Vinnie turned her gaze onto Lynne. “How’s the research going?”

  Lynne shrugged. “Not great. I’m still going through the latest data from Sami in the Bunker, but everything we’ve found proves that different Bunkers concentrated on different issues. We haven’t found the one that deals with the longevity of Scorpius, but we will.”

  “I’m more interested in the Bunker that deals with pregnancies after Scorpius,” Penelope said, sniffing her delicious cup.

  Lynne nodded. “Agreed.” She took a deep gulp.

  Penelope tried to sound casual. “Why did you say the guys are getting shot at tonight?”

  Lynne set her empty glass down and reached for the bottle. “Didn’t Marcus tell you?”

  “No,” Penelope said, tipping back the rest of her whiskey. Why hadn’t Marcus said anything? He wanted to know where she was at every moment, and he hadn’t even poked his head in to say goodbye earlier. What was up with that? “He didn’t say a word.”

  “Huh,” Vinnie said, holding her glass out for more. “Well, Jax put Marcus in charge of creating a plan to move everyone north in a few weeks, and Marcus wanted to do a test run for getting out of the city.”

  Penelope blinked. “They’re bait tonight?”

  Lynne’s eyebrows rose. “Well, yeah. That about sums it up.”

  Oh, it had to be his way, did it? Marcus Knight had a discussion coming his way when he returned, if he lived through the night. Penelope took another big gulp. Yeah. He’d better get back in one piece.

  Marcus drove the bus up the ramp of what used to be the 10, gently nudging a couple of burned-out carcasses of old cars as he went. He could still feel Jax’s irritation at the waste of gas, but they had to know what kind of resistance they’d face if they left the secured fenced area around Vanguard-Merc territory.

  They’d made it through the city to the Interstate much easier than he’d expected, only having been confronted twice by small patrols. The gunfights had been quick and merciless.

  There wasn’t room for mercy in this plan.

  Raze drove a motorcycle up ahead, while Jax drove a truck behind the bus, both trying to keep point. How in the hell was Marcus going to move six hundred people at one time without losing somebody? The responsibility was heavy, but his mind clicked facts into place. It was probably a good thing he didn’t feel pressure any longer. Besides obsession and what might’ve been anger the other day, feelings didn’t get in his way. Perhaps that was why Jax had put him in charge of this plan.

  The school bus didn’t take the debris from the useless road well, making each bump lift the rear end. The vehicle would work better with more weight inside it, but the ride wouldn’t be comfortable for anybody. He punched the gas, just to see what he could do if necessary. The tires protested, but the old girl shot into action soon enough.

  An exit flew by to his right, the sign no longer in place. Why had people stolen signs from the Interstate? What good was a huge and green metal sign? Anybody still living had plenty of access to homes for now. The danger was with the Rippers and the wildlife that had started reclaiming its land.

  A flash of purple caught his eye from the left, and then three motorcycles zipped out from behind an overturned snowplow shoved to the carpool lane.

  An explosion blew the nighttime peace to hell farther up the road, sending shrapnel and burning metal high in the air. He hit the brakes, but another flash of fire erupted beneath his rear back tire, and the bus flew up fast.

  Shit.

  He fought the wheel, trying to keep the tires beneath him, but the damn thing began to twist.

  The right front of the vehicle impacted a broken-down motorhome, and the bus turned, flying up and then landing on the passenger side to skid with an unholy screech as more sparks lit up the night. His head rocked to the side, and glass cut into his arm, but the seatbelt kept him mainly in place. The smell of burning rubber and gasoline filtered through the haze.

  The bus smashed into a pile of ripped-up concrete and bumped to a stop.

  Marcus breathed out, his chest aching. No thought. Act. He released the belt and dropped onto what used to be the door, turning at the last second to land on his feet. Grabbing the metal rod by the door, he swung both feet and kicked out the smashed glass from the front window.

  Gunfire erupted all around him.

  “Slam!” Jax yelled.

  “All good,” Marcus yelled back, ignoring the burning pain in his arm. He swung out of the bus and rolled across glass-covered cement, ducking to avoid the still spinning front tire. His eyes quickly accustomed to the darkness, and he crouched, looking for the enemy.

  Jax peered around his truck, which he’d stopped several lanes over near the exit. He motioned wildly. “I’ll cover you,” he bellowed.

  Marcus paused and then took a good smell of the area. Gasoline. A lot of it. He nodded, ducked his head, and ran.

  Bullets pinged all around him, and then Jax provided cover, spraying fast toward the other side of the bus. Marcus reached his brother and dashed around the truck, his breath even. “You good?” he asked.

  “Yeah.” Blood slid down the side of Jax’s face.

  “Shot?” Marcus asked, pulling his gun free and flattening himself to look beneath the truck.

  Jax leaned around the back and fired again. “No. Caught some gravel, I think. No bullet.”

  “Saw three on cycles. How many on the ground?” Marcus focused, seeing much better through the smoke and darkness than he had before being infected.

  “At least three. I hit one for sure, and a second hasn’t lifted back up.” Jax turned and fired again.

  Black smoke from the burning tires choked the air. Jax coughed.

  “Hey.” Raze came up behind them.

  Marcus jumped.

  “Jesus,” Jax hissed, grabbing his neck. “Where the hell did you come from?”

  Raze pointed down the exit ramp. “Saw what happened, got off to take back roads, and here I am.”

  Oh yeah. The guy had been a sniper. No wonder he moved so quietly. Marcus eyed the soldier with renewed respect. “What are your thoughts?”

  Raze shrugged. “The bus is going to explode pretty soon, and we found out what we needed, right?”

  Marcus nodded. “Yeah. We’ll need—”

  Gunfire impacted the truck, shooting out at least two of the windows.

  Marcus waited until Jax had returned fire before finishing. “We’ll need to clear a path first, and there’s no way anybody watching won’t know we’re on the move. If the president is going to make a move, we have to have some sort of plan in place.” His arm was going numb. “Unless we move in small batches. It’s risky but maybe the best plan.”

  Raze nodded. “Okay. How about we get out of here now? We’re done, right?”

  “Yeah.” Jax quietly opened the door of the truck. “I’ll get in, slide over, and flip this thing around. Good?”

  Marcus nodded. “Yeah. I might need stitches.” Wouldn’t be the first time.

  “I’ll provide cover,” Raze said. “Got the bike parked right down the way. Don’t worry.”

  Jax crept into the truck, which was still running. “Let’s go. Now.”

  Marcus leaped into action.

  10

  When I get tipsy, I think of Marcus. Well, I think about him when I’m not tipsy, too.

  --Doctor Penelope Kim,
Journal

  Penny rushed into the infirmary with the room tilting wildly around her. “How bad?” she asked Jax, who’d fetched her from a nice sleep on her sofa, where she’d crashed after several hours with her friends. The bottle of bourbon was now, sadly, empty.

  “Not too bad,” Jax said, brushing glass off his shoulder.

  She turned into the second examination room, stopping at seeing Marcus sitting on the taller examination table, his legs extending to the door and his shirt already off. He was okay. Well, bleeding from the upper arm, but looking directly at her and breathing evenly. Her knees stopped shaking. He was alive. She pushed hair away from her face. “Bullet wound?”

  “Just a cut.” Jax patted her arm and turned away. “See you two tomorrow.”

  “Wait,” Penelope said. “I’m intoxicated.” In fact, her feet were numb. “I can’t stitch him up.”

  Jax turned and looked at her, his eyes bloodshot and a purple bump above his right eye. “You’re the best we’ve got right now. I can barely see.”

  Marcus wiped blood off his arm with his other hand. “I only need a couple of stitches. I can do it.”

  Jax nodded. “You two figure it out. I want to see Lynne.” He took a step and then paused. “Let’s meet in the morning and come up with a plan, Slam.”

  “Okay,” Marcus said, and Jax took off at a fast clip.

  Penny pressed a hand to her throat as her heart continued to pound.

  Marcus looked around the room. “Could you get me a needle?”

  A needle? He’d been in a gunfight, and he was acting like everything was normal? “Are you sure you weren’t shot?” She stumbled for the drawer to take out supplies.

  “Yep. Just glass from when the bus flipped over from the bomb.”

  Her head jerked, and she whirled around. Heat climbed down her throat so fast her lungs burned. “There was a bomb?” Her voice rose.

  He turned away from examining his arm. “Yeah. It think it was maybe a grenade. What’s the matter?”

  Oh, wrong question. Way wrong question, and the bourbon flowing through her veins prevented her from finding any sort of filter for her words. “I can’t believe you just asked me that,” she muttered, setting the needle, thread, and bandages next to him on the table. “From the first second we arrived here, it has been you and me. All the time. But it’s one way, isn’t it?” Even though anger now focused her, she was gentle with wiping more blood from his wound. “You need about ten stitches, and my hands aren’t steady.” Not even close.

  “That’s okay. You’re still better than I am with one hand. What do you mean, one way?” He twisted his arm so she could get a better angle.

  This broke every rule she’d ever been taught in medical school, but the pandemic had pretty much broken the world, so what the hell. She took a deep breath and expertly threaded the already clean needle, wiping blood again. She forced her eyes open and then stitched him back up, rather surprised the stitches were even. It was a sad state of the world that she could stitch up a wound while mildly drunk. She’d been stitching up way too many wounds. She pressed a bandage into place and stepped back. “Yes. One way.”

  He sat there, bare to the waist, his chest an intriguing mix of raw muscle and healed scars. The fact that he’d survived such torture only made those ripped muscles even more intriguing. “I’m not following.”

  That just figured. It really figured. She put her hands on her hips. “You don’t tell me anything.”

  “I tell you everything.”

  Maybe she hadn’t asked enough. “What is wrong with you? You were just blown up in a bus, and you’re sitting there like you’ve had a day at the beach.”

  He frowned and rubbed dried blood off his hand. “A beach? I’m sunburned?”

  Oh, for hell’s sake. “Do you have to be so damn literal all the time?” And alluring? Marcus Knight without a shirt on should be illegal.

  “Yes.”

  The simple response nearly made her head spin around and blow steam. “Marcus? You must be frightened sometimes. It’s okay to share that.” It should scare her how badly she wanted in. How much she wanted him to really share with her.

  His face cleared. “Oh. That. I don’t feel anything, Penny.” At her silence, he shrugged. “Sorry. I’d love to tell you that I do feel a lot of things, but I just don’t. Not anymore.”

  Oh. That was certainly a defense mechanism against what they’d done to him in the labs, as well as a result of surviving Scorpius. The bourbon swirled around in her blood, and her head fuzzed, but her body flashed wide awake along with her instincts. She stepped toward him, standing between his legs. “Yes, you do.”

  He frowned, the sight more bewildered than upset. “No. I don’t.”

  She placed both hands on the sides of his rugged face, and his shadow of whiskers scratched her palms. “Do you feel this?”

  “Yes.” His voice deepened and his expression smoothed out.

  Caressing down one side of his face, she traced his sharp jawline. “Do you feel this?”

  “Yes.” His eyes darkened, going to the green instead of the brown. He held perfectly still, tension around him, his muscles tightened as if ready to spring.

  She blinked. This was a mistake, and it wasn’t fair to him. He was still sitting on her examination table after she’d stitched him up. Her hands started to drop.

  “No.” He snatched her wrist. “Don’t stop. Finish what you started.”

  Her gaze lowered to his firm mouth. “I can’t.”

  “Because you don’t want to?” His hold was light but his tone a low growl.

  “Because I’m your doctor.” She took a deep breath and filled her lungs, trying to clear her mind.

  He released her wrist, and she started to back up, shocked when he slid his hand through her hair to cup her nape. “I’m not your doctor.”

  What was happening? His hand was warm and so strong, flexing against her skin. She swallowed. The energy ticked between them, enhanced by the silence throughout Vanguard headquarters at the midnight hour. Her gaze flew up to his eyes, and he was studying her like nobody ever had. Completely and with a focus that uncoiled live wires in her abdomen.

  The next moment was inevitable.

  He drew her near, and his mouth touched hers. Gentle and seeking.

  Heat flowed through her faster than the bourbon had, and she leaned closer, putting her hands on his chest and sighing softly.

  Then he ignited. He grabbed her hip, yanked her into him, and kissed her so hard he bent her back. Fierce and deep, he took over, taking everything. She closed her eyes, overcome, her nails curling into his bare skin as he plundered. All of her.

  Need burst into her, shocking in the intensity. She kissed him back, nothing existing in the entire world but his fierce mouth and hard body. In one smooth motion, he stood and lifted her, turning and depositing her on the table. Then he backed away, releasing her. “No.”

  She gaped, her eyelids opening, her breath panting out.

  His eyes were a hungry green and his hands were clenched. He took a step back. “No. Definitely, no.” Without another word, he turned around and strode out of the room and down the hall.

  The rarely used front door shut with a loud bang behind him.

  Marcus barreled right into his brother as he ran out the front door of the clinic to what used to be a parking lot.

  Jax caught his arm, quickly released him, and stepped back. “What’s happening?”

  “I need to run,” Marcus said, the words coming out in a thick gasp. “Now. Just run full-out.”

  “Okay.” Jax pointed along the fence line. “When I need to run, I inspect the perimeter as I go. We can make it around the entire territory, burn off some energy, and make sure there are no weak points.”

  Marcus didn’t give a shit about weak points. “Okay.” He loped into a jog that quickly turned into a full-out run, not surprised to see Jax at his side, keeping pace. He’d kissed Penny. What in the fuck had he been thin
king? The woman was an angel, and he was a guard dog. Angels and scarred guard dogs didn’t belong together. Ever.

  They ran for a while, and the oppressive September heat bore down, not hard enough. Marcus needed rain and punishment. Something that would make the run difficult. Instead, he pushed himself, going faster.

  Jax kept pace.

  After about an hour, Jax spoke. “Want to talk about it?”

  “Why are you up? Thought you were looking for Lynne.” His calves didn’t even hurt yet.

  “She was asleep, smelling nicely of bourbon. Thought I’d check on you.” Jax’s breathing remained calm. Apparently his older brother was in excellent shape after surviving the Scorpius bacterium. Of course, Jax had probably always been a badass.

  “I’m not the brother you had,” Marcus said, letting his words flow freely, like usual. He wouldn’t know which ones to hold back, anyway.

  Jax jumped over a pile of bricks near the chain link fence with barbed wire above it that secured all of Vanguard. “None of us are the same. We survived the Apocalypse. How could we be?”

  “I’m a dog that will need to be put down at some point. You get that, right?” It probably sucked that Jax would have to be the one to do it.

  “No.” The moon shone down, highlighting the light brown of Jax’s eyes. “You’re not a dog, and you won’t be put down. Maybe you should get rid of that kind of thinking and just grow a pair. Decide to stay in this life and fight.”

  All Marcus did was fight. Other people, Rippers, and what he wanted from Penny. “I’m bad for Penny, but I can’t stay away from her.” The obsession was going to get her hurt, and he had to stop. But how?

  “Does she want you to stay away?” Jax asked, his gaze now on the fence as they sped past.

  “She’s too kind to know I should. She’s innocent.” Marcus never should’ve touched her. He should be shot for that alone.

  Jax ran silently at his side for another mile before speaking again. “I think you might have her on a pedestal, brother. Yeah, Doc Penelope is kind and soft spoken, but nobody kept innocent after the pandemic. We’ve all seen too much. That woman has definitely seen too much.”