The next morning Angela waited in the shadows until Bo left his house. Dawn had barely broken, but she knew he'd be out early. The air was crisp, but she didn't feel the cold. Dark clouds were building overhead, but she didn't seem to notice. She was focused on one thing only.
Once Bo was clear, she walked quickly to the front door, nervously glancing around before knocking a few times. After a long minute, Sarah answered, a bit surprised to see her.
"Angela. What brings you by so early? Is everything okay?" Sarah was wrapped in a plush terry cloth robe and her hair was still damp from a shower.
"I just wanted to talk. I'm having a little trouble adjusting to being back."
Sarah opened the door fully and gestured for her to come in. "C'mon on in. Let's talk. You want some coffee?"
"No, I'm fine." Once inside, Angela shut the door behind her. "Sarah? I really wanted to ask you about your visions. I wanted to know if you ever saw anything about me."
Sarah grabbed her cup off the kitchen counter and motioned towards the couch. Taking a sip before putting it on the coffee table, she said, "If you mean about your disappearance, then no. I never saw anything about it. I don't always know what I'm going to see. Some things don't even make sense."
Watching her carefully, Angela asked, "Did you see anything about me when I was gone? Or anything with me in the future?"
"No," Sarah said, curious about the line of questioning. "I actually took a spill shortly after you went missing. Its kept everything cloudy. I had a concussion and am just starting to feel normal again."
Angela's heart started beating faster, and she tried to contain her excitement. "You mean you haven't had any visions? You haven't seen anything? What exactly happened?"
Sarah felt a bit uneasy but continued with the explanation. "A vision hit me out of the blue and I lost my balance. Cracked my noggin' on the sidewalk," she said, knocking her head lightly with her knuckles, smiling sheepishly. "It's the last time I saw anything."
"That's horrible. Do you think you've lost the ability?"
"I don't think so. The concussion just knocked me out of commission for a little while."
Angela knew what needed to be done. "You know, I think I will take a cup of coffee. If you don't mind, of course," she said.
"Not at all. You didn't come over here just to ask me about that, did you?" Sarah asked as she got up and headed towards the kitchen.
Once Sarah's back was fully turned, Angela stood as well. "Actually, yes," she said, lifting Sarah's coffee cup and gulping down the remnants. The hot coffee felt good going down. She quickly followed Sarah into the kitchen, coming up behind her as Sarah poured a fresh cup from the pot for her. "Sorry," Angela whispered, lifting the cup over her head.
Startled, Sarah was about to turn around when the cup came crashing down. Stars appeared in her vision, but before she could react, Angela smacked her again, dropping her to the floor. Feeling woozy and confused, Sarah tried to get her bearings. Realizing she was on the floor, she tried to get to her feet, but her legs felt like jello.
Once Sarah hit the floor, Angela scanned the kitchen for a better weapon. Shaking her head in confusion, Sarah tried to clear it. Everything seemed foggy. Peering up, she saw the block-end of a kitchen mallet coming down on her. She tried to turn her face before everything went black.
Standing over Sarah, Angela's eyes looked wild as she swung the mallet with all her strength. She could hear Sarah's skull crack with the contact, her nerve-endings dancing at the beauty of the act. She felt more alive than she ever had before. With her excitement peaking, she swung two more times, caving in Sarah's skull.
Suffering her own concussion during her fight with Jeff, the toxin traveled swiftly through her cerebral cortex, misfiring neurons and disrupting brain synapses further. She was becoming more unstable.
Sarah was sprawled out on her back, facing up. Her eyes were closed, and she looked peaceful as blood began pooling around her head. A red halo slowly encircled her skull.
The longer Angela stared at Sarah's body, the more confused she became. The exhilaration she experienced at the act sent sparks jumping off her body, but now that the act was done, a part of her felt a deep sadness. She started to break down, slowly at first, before falling to her knees and sobbing over Sarah's corpse. "I'm sorry!" Angela cried out, her voice trembling with emotion. "I couldn't take any chances. You have to understand, Sarah. I'm so sorry." Angela dropped the mallet and stared at the matted pieces of hair that stuck in a bloody tangle to the wood. "What am I going to do?" she whispered in desperation, wringing her hands.
"No," she said, pulling herself together. "No! This is their fault! I need the kid. It's all different now."
Getting back to her feet, Angela avoided looking at Sarah as she thought about how to make her death look like an accident. Two knocks on the front door made her heart stop in her chest. Unsure of what to do, she moved quickly to the front door where she peeked out the eye hole. There was no one there. She silently moved to the living room window, where she gently pulled back on the blinds. She still couldn't see anyone.
She returned to the kitchen, a bit more uneasy, eager to move forward with her plan. As she entered the kitchen, she gasped out loud. Sarah's eyes were open. Staring at the ceiling with a far-distant gaze, the life had drained out of them, yet they had somehow opened. The peaceful countenance that had covered her face moments before was replaced with the twisted grimace of an infected.
Angela took a few steps back in shock. Sarah wasn't moving and she wasn't infected. It made no sense. As her head spun, two more knocks on the door caused her to jump. Any power she had felt was replaced with paranoia. A chill ran down the full length of her spine.
Once again, she rushed to the door and looked through the peephole. Adrenaline was coursing through her veins, and her heart was pounding against her chest. There was no one there. She turned and looked back towards the kitchen, fully expecting to see Sarah standing in the doorway. She wasn't.
She slowly crept towards the kitchen, this time crying out in horror once she entered. Sarah's eyes were no longer staring at the ceiling. Her face had dropped to the side, her dead eyes staring directly at her.
It was too much. "I know you're here!" she yelled out, turning in all directions for some sign that she was in the room. "You think you're going to haunt me? I'm going to fuck your husband before shoving a knife in his chest. What do you think about that?"
Silence filled the room. Angela's breathing had become fast and shallow. She waited for something to happen. Nothing did. After remaining frozen in place for a full minute, she wiped a drop of sweat off the side of her face. "I'm sorry I had to kill you, Sarah" she said softly. "I wish it could have been different. I really do."
There had never been any knocks on the door. Sarah's face had never changed. Angela's mind was disintegrating further.
CHAPTER TWENTY FOUR
Shawn radioed in that he wouldn't make guard duty. Feeling nauseous and weak, he barely made it to the bathroom before chucking up in the toilet. His face was covered with sweat. It was 9am and he couldn't get Angela out of his mind. Something had changed with her. She just wasn't the same. He tried to drag himself back to bed but collapsed on the dining room floor. The plush rug felt soft enough. It would do.
On his way to check on him, Bo was a bit concerned. Shawn had never missed guard duty before. A flu outbreak could devastate their compound, leaving them vulnerable to attack.
As he walked along the street to Shawn's house, Bo could feel the moisture in the air. The cloud cover overhead had grown darker, and it felt like it could start raining at any moment. He spotted the guard in Tower One looking in his direction and waved at him, confident at the notion that they'd been able to make it a safe place. Jim waved back before returning to scan the front perimeter of the compound.
A large blue butterfly slowly fluttered around Bo's head, and he stopped to admire it. He smiled as it danced around his face, its wings glimme
ring. It seemed to play with him, and he laughed softly as it circled his head several more times before gliding down and landing gently on his shirt. The act surprised him, and he watched the insect closely. "What do you want, little fella," he said quietly, looking down on it, his smile growing as the wings flapped a few times as it held tight to his shirt. As he stared at it, the delight he felt at its presence gradually twisted, turning his stomach into a tight knot. He instinctively knew something was wrong. He wasn't sure why, but he suddenly feared for Sarah's safety.
"Sarah," he said to himself, no longer staring at the butterfly but back in the direction of his house. He moved towards his residence and the butterfly let go. As he picked up speed, the butterfly slowly drifted away.
By the time he reached the house he was covered in a layer of sweat. "Sarah!" he yelled as he opened the front door. He heard Angela's voice from the kitchen. "In here! She's in here! Oh my God, she's hurt bad."
Bo rushed into the kitchen, his breath catching in his throat as he came upon the scene, with Sarah sprawled out on the ground and blood spread in an arc around her.
"What happened!" he yelled, rushing to her side.
Angela stood near the coffee maker, trying to look exasperated. "We were just talking. She went to get the coffee and then said she was getting a vision, and then she just fell. She hit her head on the edge of the counter. Right there." She pointed to the counter edge where she had smeared a small bit of blood.
"Oh my God." Bo said, "Get some help! Go get Gene!"
Angela rushed out of the room as Bo knelt over his wife, stroking her hair, which was damp with blood, his chest now heaving with sorrow. The side of her head was caved in. She was gone.
He touched her cheek, then knelt over and kissed her. When he straightened back up, a bloody smear remained on her cheek. His wail echoed through the kitchen as he cried out in anguish.
All of a sudden he remembered the butterfly. His jaw went slack and he slowly caught his breath. She'd been there with him.
"I'm going to miss you," he said, looking up at the ceiling. They had discussed death before and had done their best to prepare for it. "You are the love of my life, Sarah," he whispered quietly, now staring at her face. "You are everything to me, and I am going to miss you." Bo took a few more deep breaths and tried to gather himself together. "My God, I don't know how to live without you."
~~~
Lying on the dining room floor, Shawn felt a weird sensation flow through his veins. It was distinct. It was different. It was dark.
Rolling onto his back, he stared up in shock as the realization hit him. Burning up with fever, he felt like throwing up again. "You infected me. You're infected! Why would you do that?" The horror was immediately replaced with anger, and it surged through him as Shawn clenched his teeth with a growing sense of rage. "You bitch! Why would you do that!"
Filled with nausea, he chucked violently again, rolling onto his side and soaking the carpet.
~~~
Bursting into the medical center, Angela yelled out to Melissa, who was grabbing another child from the waiting room for inoculation. "Where's Gene? Where is he? Something's happened to Sarah. He needs to go, now!" She ran towards his office. "Gene!"
Gene suddenly appeared, looking frightened. "What? What is it?"
"It's Sarah. Come now. You have to help her!" Angela grabbed his arm and pulled him towards the front door. She tried not to laugh as she exited back onto the street. She was deserving of an Oscar. They'd never suspect a thing.
Entering Bo's house, they found him sitting quietly in the living room, hunched over and staring at the floor. At the sound of them, he lifted his tear-stained face, and Gene knew it was bad.
"She's gone," Bo said quietly. "There's nothing you can do."
"I'll be the judge of that," said Gene swiftly. "Where is she?"
Bo gestured towards the kitchen, and Angela rushed him into the room.
"She cracked her head against the counter and then just collapsed on the floor," Angela said excitedly.
Gene rushed to her side and checked her pulse. Bo had turned her head, hiding the worst of the head wound. Feeling no pulse, he lifted her eyelids to stare at her pupils, then checked to see if she was breathing. He started CPR, pumping rhythmically on her chest.
"Is she dead?" Angela asked, trying to squeeze out a tear.
Gene didn't answer, focused on the task at hand. Bo walked slowly into the living room. "She's gone. I told you."
Gene shot him a quick look, then went back to working on Sarah. "You give up too easy," he said. "There's always a chance."
"No," Bo said, staring at her body. "She passed over. There is no bringing her back. Trust me, I know."
Stopping the process, Bo could see the sadness on Gene's face. "I can't believe it," Gene said, holding back tears. As he moved her head, he got a full picture of the damage. He looked from the wound to the counter, a look of confusion spreading across his face. Angela noticed and started backing away slowly.
"That's strange," Gene said out loud, more to himself than anything.
"What's that?" asked Bo.
"Nothing," he said, looking up at Bo and shaking his head. He didn't want to upset him further.
"Bullshit. Something got your attention. Tell me what you're seeing."
Angela had backed away without them noticing and silently slipped out the front door. She immediately started to run.
"Well, this head wound. If she hit her head on the corner of the counter, it should be more of a puncture wound. This looks more like major blunt force trauma."
The room started spinning as Bo tried to comprehend what Gene was saying. He forced himself to look as Gene probed the damage with his finger. Bo could see the look of doubt turn to surprise. "I don't believe Sarah hit her head there," he said with a bit of drama. As he stood and surveyed the scene, he said, "No, this doesn't look right at all."
Moving forward, he glimpsed in the sink out of curiosity and spotted the mallet. There was still blood on the head. Bo had surprised Angela before she'd had a chance to completely cover her tracks. "What is this?"
Everything clicked in place for Bo before Gene said another word. He turned to address Angela, who was nowhere to be seen. "Angela?" he said loudly, feeling his anguish turn to a rage so absolute he started to shake. "Angela!"
CHAPTER TWENTY FIVE
The zombie horde Angela had escaped from were on the move. Like a slow moving plague, they shuffled and plodded onward, a dark twisted force of nature driven by lust for warm human flesh.
Angela had left the compound hours earlier, grabbing as many weapons as she could, including the sniper rifle. Hopping on an ATV, she quietly maneuvered it until reaching the back of the compound by the jail. Quickly removing the battery cables to disable a section of the electric fence, she cut a large flap through the chain-link before covering up her escape route with some loose wire.
Darkness was settling in as she found the legion of walking infected. They were closer to the camp but still far enough out to be missed by any patrols. She'd fit the exhaust with a silencer to keep her presence quiet.
She had a plan. It was time for the end game. It hadn't gone the way she had planned, but there was still a chance. She could still be fixed. All she knew is that either way, she wouldn't go quietly.
~~~
The camp was on high alert. Within minutes of her departure the search for Angela had begun. Inside the compound, Mace was trying to calm down Bo to no avail as he tried to keep his own anger in check. "We'll find her, Bo. We've got a net over the compound. She hasn't got out, at least as far as we know." Bo looked ten years older and had a crazy look in his eyes.
"I want her alive. I don't care if she's riddled with fucking holes, I want to be the one to end her fucking life." His voice was hoarse from sobbing and repeated shots of Mannie's hooch.
"I know. We'll try. She's infected. We found out from Shawn. It's the side-effects."
"What do you
mean she's infected?"
"It could have happened at the hangar, or it could have happened when she disappeared. We don't know for sure."
"How can she be infected? I thought you brought the antidote? She doesn't look infected!" Bo was getting worked up.
"There are some complications. It never happened like this before. It's all I can think of."
Bo erupted. "What good is a fucking antidote if this is what happens!" Glaring at Mace through glossy eyes, Bo continued. "You brought that shit into my camp. This is your fault!"
Bo poured himself another shot as Mace tried to ignore the accusation. He knew Bo was right but also understood the alternative. It was a Catch-22. There was no easy answer. He'd been on the other end of the same argument with Father McCann in San Francisco.
"How does Shawn know, anyway?"
"It appears she infected him as well."
"What? Well then, we know what needs to be done!" Bo said as he reached for the M-16 resting against the wall of the living room.
"Whoa," said Mace, as he moved in front of Bo, blocking his path. "Let's just give this a second, Bo. You've been drinking for one thing. I've always known you to be a rational man. We'll keep an eye on Shawn. He's not going anywhere. He's sick as a dog. Like I said, I've never seen this type of reaction this fast. We don't know exactly what's going on."
Mace ducked as the shot glass came flying in his direction, then gave Bo a hard stare. He ran his fingers through his hair, trying to keep himself calm. It had been a long time since he'd lost his cool.
"Get out and get that bitch!" Bo bellowed. The alcohol was too strong for him to continue drinking at this pace. Bo dropped his head, knowing he was out of control. He added quietly, "I'll stay right here. Just tell me if you find her."
"We'll get her. I'm sorry, man. Really." As Mace left, he could hear Bo inside his home, smashing something. Needing to keep his wits about him, Mace took a deep breath. "Not again," he said quietly, picturing the bloodshed at the hospital. "Not again." He could feel his own anger building.
Children of the Apocalypse (Mace of the Apocalypse #3) Page 13
