by James Knapp
This isn’t right. None of this is right.
The countdown dropped to zero. The man in the chair had regained consciousness. He no longer looked afraid, and instead he looked confused. He stared at the empty space in front of him.
“I can’t read,” he whispered. “What does it mean?”
The yellow light over the doorway turned red, and all of them turned at once.
Someone’s here, Lev said. We’ve been found.
Outside, down the hall, there was a commotion. The other revivors began moving, packaging up equipment. Lev signaled that I should follow.
We have to go now, he said.
What about him? I asked, pointing at the chair.
Lev’s left forearm snapped apart down the middle, and the blade inside shot out. It punched through the man’s breastbone, and his eyes bugged open wide. He looked down at the thing that had impaled him, like he didn’t understand.
I heard the bone split as Lev twisted the blade. The warm mass in the man’s chest fluttered and stopped. The light went out of his eyes, and his chin lolled to his chest.
The others filed out toward the back exit. With a loud snap, the bayonet retracted. A map appeared in the air in front of me with a route traced across it. Two security feeds appeared next to it, showing police vehicles in the front lot, and armed men in the lobby.
We can’t risk him being taken into custody, Lev said. Come on.
All but three of the revivors left the room. They kept their backs to the walls, the glow in their eyes becoming more intense. Energy was building up inside their chests.
They’re going to blow, Lev said. This entire facility will be destroyed. We don’t have much time. Go with the others.
I nodded and left the room. As we followed the others, I glanced back for one last look at the dead man. When I did, I saw him move.
He lifted his head an inch, and his eyes stared up to meet mine.
5
Atropos
Zoe Ott—Pleasantview Apartments, Apartment #613
I’d been standing across the street, staring at the neon sign in the window of a convenience store for a long time. People passed by me on the sidewalk, leaning into the rain as I watched the water trickle down, blurring the brightly colored light. I counted the bottles that were lined up there behind the glass, all different shapes and sizes. All filled with different colors, warm colors.
This is stupid.
I told Nico he’d leave me there. I knew it would happen. He acted like I was wrong and he wouldn’t, and he meant it, but it didn’t matter what he said he’d do or even what he meant to do. I knew it would happen, and it did.
I was useless anyway. Nico was hoping I was going to get something out of them, but it was obvious the minute we walked in that there was no way that was going to happen. When I tried to concentrate on her, I couldn’t get anything. That halo was there, above her big head, but I couldn’t see anything past it. When I pushed a little harder, I got pushed back. She looked over at me then, and she wasn’t smiling. My head spun, and I got a cold feeling in the pit of my stomach. I didn’t try it again.
After the shot went off, when Nico ran out of the restaurant and left me with the others, I started feeling like I couldn’t breathe. It was too much. I had to get out of there. Ai offered to have Penny drive me home, but I didn’t want that. I looked around for Nico, but he hadn’t come back inside the restaurant. I said I had to use the bathroom, and ducked out.
I was still staring at the bottles through the window when a car turned onto the street in front of me, and when its headlights flashed on the brick wall, I saw two shadows there. They were in the shape of people, but there was no one there. The shadows were burned onto the bricks.
“Soon,” a voice whispered.
I turned, and a woman was standing next to me. Her long coat and her clothes were burned black, and when the rain landed on her body, it hissed, throwing up smoke and ash. Her face was covered in soot, and her hair was scorched. When the wind blew, a cherry red glow swelled under the ash of her clothes. Embers scattered and flew up into the air around her.
I looked back toward the burned shadows, but the building was gone, along with everything around it. A big expanse of wet soot and sand sprawled out in front of me, sheets of rain coming down to form gray rivers and pools. Big shadows stood at angles in the distance, and I thought they were the remains of buildings.
I’d seen this before. I’d started seeing it back when I first met Nico. This city, the whole city, was gone.
“How soon?” I asked the burned woman. She turned to me, ash flaking away from her face.
“It had to be done,” she said.
Lightning flashed behind the canopy of gray clouds overhead, and a few seconds later, thunder rolled across the empty field.
“How soon?” I asked again.
“Soon.”
The wind blew, and more ash streamed off of her body until she just disappeared. When I looked back to the empty field, it was gone. The buildings and the neon were back. The lit store window and the rows of bottles behind it were back just like before.
I turned away from the window and the bottles, and headed down the street. At the corner, I turned and began making my way toward the sign for Pleasantview. Up ahead, flashing blues from a police car were lighting up the outside of the building.
Perfect.
As I got closer to my apartment building, I saw there were actually a couple squad cars out there, and an ambulance too.
Passing by the police cars and heading up the main steps, I wondered if I shouldn’t have waited for Nico, but I had to get out of there. So far he hadn’t even called to find out where I’d gone.
Jerk.
I went inside. The elevator was still out, so I had to walk up seven flights of stairs. When I got up to the landing between the fifth and sixth floors, I saw blood on the floor.
“Gross.”
Drops of it were all over the place. In the corner of the stairwell, it was smeared around and I could see part of a bloody handprint. Did someone get stabbed or something?
There were drops on the stairs leading up, and when I looked up the stairwell, I saw the door to the sixth floor was propped open.
What the hell?
I passed by on my way up to my floor when I heard a bunch of people talking down the hall on six. Through the doorway I could see shadows from around the corner, and someone was talking on a radio.
“We’re bringing him down now,” a voice said. Footsteps were coming down the hall. Something was wrong.
“…for the EMT?” a man said over the radio.
“The elevator’s out. They’re coming down via the stairs.”
“It’s six flights,” the voice on the radio said.
“You got a better idea?”
I was still standing there listening when three men came around the corner and almost ran into me. Two of them were cops in uniform. In between them was Ted, his hands behind his back.
“Coming through, ma’am,” one cop said.
Ted had been beaten up bad—real bad. His whole face was covered in bruises, and there was a big cut over one eye. He was missing a tooth, and there was a bandage over his nose that had blood seeping through it. There was dried blood all down the front of his shirt.
When he saw me, I felt a big surge of anger from him.
“There she is, fucking bitch!” he snapped. The cops grabbed his arms.
“Keep moving, asshole!”
“You send that crazy bitch over to fuck with me?”
He got free from one of them and kicked at me. I fell back as his big foot stomped into the wall right next to me.
“This how you planned it, bi—”
He was cut off when one of the cops stuck a stun gun in his side and zapped him. He went down and flopped onto the floor.
“Piece of shit,” the cop said. Ted looked out of it, but he managed to get back up on his hands and knees, glaring at me through his sweaty
hair. I’d seen him mad before, but never like that. When I looked, the colors around him were all red, like a fire, a fire that was raging. He wanted to kill me. His eyes were so crazy. I just stood there. I didn’t even try to push him.
“Get up, asshole,” the clean-cut cop said. “You can add that to your list of charges.”
Ted just stared at me from his hands and knees, panting.
“He said, get up!” the other cop yelled. “Now do it, or I swear I’ll use this thing again and ride your sorry ass down to the ground fucking floor! Move it!”
“Happy now, bitch?” Ted muttered. He started to get up, and one of them grabbed him and hauled him up the rest of the way. The big guy shoved him through the door and followed him while the other one checked on me.
“You okay, ma’am?”
I nodded. My legs felt weak.
“What happened here?” I asked.
“Domestic dispute, ma’am. Do you live on this floor?”
“No, but—”
“If you don’t live on this floor, then please move along while we—”
The room got bright as I pushed him, easing him back.
“What happened?” I asked again. This time his eyelids drooped a little and he answered.
“Best we can tell,” he said, “someone beat the shit out of the perp. When his girlfriend came home, it looks like he took it out on her.”
“Let me by,” I said. He didn’t move when I scooted around him.
Down the hall there were more people. They were all in uniform. One was a cop, but the others looked like medics. I started running toward them. They were all standing outside Karen’s apartment.
“Ma’am!” one of them said, holding up one hand. “Ma’am you can’t come down here!”
The medics were moving a stretcher through the door. The person lying on it had a face covered in bandages and blood.
“Karen?”
“Ma’am, step back please. We need to get through now!”
They were all around her. One pushed and one pulled while two stood on each side. One had a mask over her mouth and nose while the other started prep-ping a syringe. Her face was beaten to a pulp. Her body was totally limp. She looked dead. All the strength went out of my legs and I had to lean against the wall as they passed by.
“Try to keep her steady!” one of them yelled.
“Ma’am, do you know Karen Goncalves?” someone asked me. I watched them wheel her away. There was a light above her head, but it was faint.
“Ma’am, do you know her? Are you family, or do you know anyone we should contact?”
I stopped hearing him. I just stood there, frozen, and watched them wheel her away.
Nico Wachalowski—The Rescue Mission Clinic
The Rescue Mission Clinic sat on a small urban strip, just outside Bullrich. To the left of the place was an Indian grocery and a laundry. The small parking area was empty, and the storefronts were dark. I cruised to a stop in front of the main entrance, then cut the engine and waited, listening to the rain drum on the roof. A rusted chain-link fence ran along its right side, a coil of razor wire running along the top. The wall facing the narrow gap had been spray painted. The blacktop was littered with wet trash.
According to the records, it was a nonprofit provider for the homeless, run by the local Second Chance chapter. According to the records, they dispensed everything from flu shots to methadone. They did blood work, and provided cheap contraception. Everything was legitimate on paper.
Nico. This is Sean. I’m here. Help me. The message appeared in the dark in front of my eyes. It had repeated every thirty seconds since I came in range.
I pushed the car door open and stepped outside into the cold. Through the glass doors ahead I could see the alarm system was armed. I approached, aware of the security camera mounted on the wall.
I put in a call to Noakes, but got rerouted to ID Hsieh, A. It was picked up immediately.
Who is this? I asked.
Agent Alice Hsieh, she said. I’ll be filling Agent Pu’s position. Can I help you, Agent Wachalowski?
Yes. I need the alarm system deactivated at this address.
She didn’t answer, but a few seconds later, I saw the display on the alarm system go dark.
Okay, you’re clear, she said.
I put my badge to the scanner, and it overrode the security code. I pushed open the door and went inside.
The main entry opened into a small waiting area. Wooden chairs were arranged there, facing a wall with a sliding window and next to that, a door. Old magazines with curled edges were stacked on a wall-mounted shelf.
I pulled up a blueprint of the facility. The sliding window opened into a small office or reception area, and the door next to it led to a hallway that gave access to it, along with three small examination rooms. The hallway formed an L and led to a restroom, two large storage rooms, then continued to a fire exit that opened into the back alley.
The door was unlocked. I went through, then took a left into the office behind the sliding window. A desk faced out into the waiting area. I turned on the computer and set up a ’bot to break through security.
I gave the desk drawer a tug, but it was locked. Touching the phone’s screen, I pulled up the address book and recorded the contacts there. One name jumped out at me.
BUCKSTER, LEON.
I knew that name. Calliope had mentioned him. He was her Second Chance contact. There was no other information except his contact number and work address.
Alice, pull the phone records, please. I need all calls placed to and from this location, starting at the date of the Concrete Falls attack.
She was fast. After a short pause, the data began streaming in. I filtered out anyone on the patient list or the employee directory. Only a handful of the numbers were unaccounted for. One in particular was tied to an organization called CCO: Charitable Contribution Organization. The number was leased under its name, maybe to hide the owner’s identity. I saved it aside.
The ’bot continued to work on opening a connection to the computer, but something was blocking it. The security there was a lot tougher than it should have been.
Something’s not right.
I backed out of the office and continued down the hallway. The examination rooms were open, and they were all empty. I continued on to the storage rooms. At the bend in the hall, I saw the storage room door in front of me. Down at the end of the corridor to my right was the metal fire door.
Nico. This is Sean. I’m here. Help me. I switched off the connection, cutting off the message.
The storage room was crowded with stacks of cardboard boxes containing medical equipment. To my right, a wooden door led to a closet. Inside there were shelves of sample drugs, along with a locked metal cabinet that covered the far wall. Peering through the side, I saw what looked like pill bottles and other pharmaceuticals.
Sweeping the main storage area with the backscatter, I noticed a metal door behind one of the stacks of boxes. There was a scanner mounted next to it.
Closing the door to the storage closet, I approached the metal door and pushed the boxes aside. Unlike the rest of the place, the door looked modern and new. The scanner next to it was fitted with a lens for performing retinal scans. A retinal scan wasn’t even required to get into the FBI building.
Putting my forehead to the surface of the door, I turned the backscatter up to full intensity. The metal was thick, but I could make out images on the other side. The edges of the room were lined with what looked like computer equipment. The middle of the room was dominated by what I guessed was a large reclining chair, like you might see at a dentist’s office. Several IV racks stood next to it.
Scanning along the edges of the door, I could see it was secured with magnetic bolts. I was trying to decide the best way to tap into it when the red light shining above the mechanism’s lens flickered and turned green. The bolts retracted with a dull thump.
I stepped back into the shadows as the heavy door
opened, revealing a dark room behind it. A revivor stepped through the doorway, and the faint smell of sweat and decomposition drifted out behind it. Inside, I saw several sets of glowing eyes.
Before it could spot me, I slipped toward the wall next to the doorway and took the EMP wand from my belt. The revivor was male, with a heavy frame. Its head turned as it scanned the dark in front of it, trying to pinpoint my heartbeat.
I touched the wand to the back of its neck and the metal filament slipped through the skin and up its spinal column. Its body went rigid, and I caught it under one arm as it fell back. Quietly, I eased it onto the floor.
Before it could send out an alarm, I recorded its signature, then triggered the EMP. The light faded from its eyes. Using an old war trick, I looped the recorded signature through a custom transponder I’d installed back in Bontang. Revivors didn’t rely on signatures for identification purposes, and they would still detect my heartbeat, but it would keep them from attacking as long as I didn’t attack first.
I stepped through the doorway and looked around. Three revivors stood inside, each with their backs to one wall. Their eyes shifted ceaselessly, moving rapidly, almost like they were dreaming. They didn’t seem to see me or hear me as I moved into the room.
The light was low enough that even with the enhancements, it was hard to pick out details inside. I shined a flashlight beam, and swept it across the room. Shelving had been set up, stocked with towels. I saw several rolling trays that held surgical instruments, and empty vials for taking blood samples.
There was a faint thermal trace on the chair. There was no other indication that anyone else—anyone living, at any rate—had been inside.
A tent of plastic sheeting hung from the ceiling in the center of the room. I could see dark shapes inside, and a series of flashing red lights. There was a gap in the curtain near the middle, and I pushed through.
On the other side of the curtain were five gurneys, and each one had a nude male corpse on it. From behind each of their heads, a thick wire trailed across the floor. I followed them behind a bank of electronics where the red lights flashed. The skin on each body was rigid. Dark veins were visible underneath the surface from head to toe.
