Horton looked at the phone and placed it back. He didn’t mean to be upset, he just hated waiting, and Mueller’s past mistakes had cost them time. He poured another tall glass of whiskey and quickly drank it. He picked the phone back up and dialed out. After several clicks and several tones a voice answered.
“Hello?”
“This is Chancellor Horton. We are a go.”
“Are we sticking with the aerial assault?”
“Of course, if we move overland, it could give away the element of surprise. I don’t want them to know we’re coming until they hear the helicopters; then it will be too late. I want to see panic and fear, but whatever you do, I want him alive. Do I make myself clear?”
“Sir, everyone down to the lowest private has a picture of him. We’ll get him.”
“Then execute the raid first thing tomorrow morning and something else, I’ll be joining you. I won’t be in the initial assault but following just behind.”
“Yes, sir.”
Horton placed the phone down. He again looked at the dull gray walls. If all went according to plan, he wouldn’t be looking at them for too much longer. He then looked at an unopened bottle of Maker's Mark. He loved whiskey but his obsession lately for the brown liquor had become habitual. Not a day had gone since Lori's death that he didn't begin drinking minutes from waking. In the deep recesses of his mind he knew he was having a hard time coping, but admitting he might be developing a problem was worse than the alcohol could ever make him feel. He chalked up his time hidden in the bowels of Dulce as a bit of rest and relaxation. Soon he'd emerge to a new world where he would rule with a iron fist.
Mueller fell into his desk chair, not only exhausted from the endless hours of work but from the constant fear that his life hung in the balance. He had begun his work on this project years ago, and just when he thought he’d received the recognition he deserved, he was told once again that he was a failure. Like a dark cloud that followed him throughout his life, he couldn’t go far or get away from it. He had moments of happiness, but those always ended up in failure too. When Horton approached him years ago, he’d jumped at the chance to be a part of history and change the course of mankind. Horton had actually made him feel that he’d be a part of a team. What he had come to find out was he was nothing more than a tool, an expendable tool. He wasn’t a team member at all, but now it was too late, he was in too deep. The beliefs he’d held early on vaporized once he saw his creation destroy lives, but there wasn’t a thing he could do about it. Play along and hope that he’d be able to slip out one day unnoticed.
Loud laughter from his two lab assistants caught his attention. He exited the small windowless office and saw them prodding a test patient with a broomstick.
The makeshift laboratory had once been a commercial-sized kitchen. It was massive, over two thousand square feet of space. Though not ideal, it worked well enough.
The woman had been given the latest virus the day before and was fully symptomatic. Like the earlier virus, the woman was bleeding from her eyes, mouth, ears and anus. Delirium accompanied by a high fever made her act crazy. Slobbering and begging unintelligibly, she reached for the assistants through the thin bars of the small cage in the hopes they’d save her, but all she received was torment.
Normally, Mueller was able to separate humanity from his test subjects, but now he just couldn’t. “Stop that!”
The two lab assistants, both young men, craned their heads towards Mueller. Both had confused expressions on their faces. What they were doing wasn’t new; they often took liberties with the subjects and never a word was muttered from Mueller.
“Give me the broom!” Mueller ordered, his hand stretched out.
Hesitantly, the man holding the broom gave it to Mueller.
Mueller snatched it aggressively and barked, “Get out of here. We’re done; go and find something else to do!”
They both looked strangely at Mueller then at each other.
“Get out!” Mueller screamed.
Seeing Mueller’s reaction and unsure of what could happen next, they rushed off.
Two large metal doors separated the lab from a large concrete corridor. When the heavy door closed behind them, it echoed through the lab and hallway.
Mueller held the broomstick firmly, almost white-knuckling it. A range of emotions had come over him. He knew in his core that his life was hanging in a balance. When he was needed to create the virus he had leverage, he had purpose and was an asset. Now, the virus was complete and so was his necessity. He not only didn’t trust Horton, he had grown to hate him. He was aware that Horton had kept him alive, but it wasn’t out of kindness. Horton had needed something.
“Help,” the woman moaned. Her blood-covered arm dangled from the cage.
Mueller looked at her and for once a tinge of regret and empathy struck him. He threw the broom across the room, smashing beakers, vials, and other lab equipment.
He squatted down just inches from the woman’s reach and said, “I’m sorry.”
With all her might she stretched her arm to touch Mueller, but he was just too far. “Puh, puh, please.”
Mueller bowed his head; the woman’s pleas were hitting him emotionally like never before.
She mumbled again and coughed.
Mueller looked up and stared into the intensely deep red eyes of the woman. Tears of blood streamed down her face and from the sides of her gaping mouth. “Help.”
A cough from behind Mueller startled him. He stood and looked to find two guards. Fear gripped him as he wondered if this was it. Were they sent here to kill him?
“Excuse me, sir,” one guard said.
Mueller nervously stepped away from them and closer to the cage.
The woman grabbed his leg and sobbed.
“What do you want?” Mueller asked, his voice cracking.
The guard who had spoken was large, nearly six foot five. He had broad shoulders and a massive barrel chest. He wore the standard black uniform, tactical vest with body armor, and hanging from a two-point sling was an M4 carbine. “The chancellor sent us here to get some vials.”
Mueller gulped. His temples were throbbing and several beads of sweat streamed down the sides of his face. “Oh, yes.”
The second guard cocked his head and asked, “Doctor, are you all right?”
Mueller was so frightened that he didn’t notice that the woman was clinging to his legs and sobbing.
“Yeah, I’m fine. Let me go get you the vials,” Mueller said and marched off towards a large commercial refrigerator at the far end of the room. When he came out, the two guards were staring at the woman and chuckling.
Not once but now twice two groups of men had proven they were nothing more than animals. He felt disgusted by it but stopped short of telling them to cease their teasing. “Here,” he said, handing them a small black case.
“This is it?” the first guard asked.
“Yes.”
“What the hell are you going to do with her?” the second guard asked.
Mueller looked at her. His regret had now reached a precipice. He was disgusted by his assistants and the guards, but this woman was in her condition because of him. How hypocritical was it for him to pass judgment when he had presided over so many deaths?
The woman sat in a large pool of thick blood and sobbed. Her naked body was covered in a layer of partially dry and fresh blood, making it seem as if she was wearing clothes.
“How about putting her out of her misery, Doc?” the first guard said.
“Is that it, gentlemen?” Mueller asked.
“Yes, sir,” the first guard said. He looked at his comrade and nodded. They both turned and left.
Mueller followed them to the exit, and when the door closed, he locked it. He rushed back to the cage and looked at the woman.
Barely able to lift her head, she cried out, “Help.”
“There’s nothing I can do for you,” Mueller said flatly.
She attempted t
o squeeze her lean body through the bars as she continued to retch.
Mueller raised his eyebrows and shifted his eyes. “There is something I can do. I’ll be right back.” He rushed off and entered the walk-in refrigerator. Seconds later he emerged with a small vial and syringe. He filled the syringe and ordered, “Hold still. This might work, but then again it may not.”
With her eyes begging, she was cognizant enough to understand and shifted her body so her shoulder was exposed.
Mueller jabbed the needle into her arm and pressed the plunger down slowly. “This is the vaccine; it might work, but no promises.”
When Mueller pulled the syringe from her arm, she sank into her cage and curled up on the floor.
He looked at her; the sorrow that had filled him was now replaced with hope. He pulled a set of keys from his pocket and unlocked the cage. Showing no concern for himself, he bent over and picked her slight and bloodied body off the floor and carried her to a set of bunk beds in the far corner of the laboratory, the beds he and his two lab assistants had been calling home since they arrived at Dulce. Unconcerned that her blood was getting everywhere, he gently placed her on the lower bed.
She groaned and twisted from the uncontrollable spasms, a symptom of the virus. Unable to control her bodily functions, she vomited on his arm. They hadn’t fed her in days, so all that came up was bile and blood.
He didn’t pay any attention to it as he rushed to the bathroom. He came back with a bucket and several washcloths. “Please just try to lay flat; I’m going to clean you off.”
She heard him, but the pain was intense. She rolled onto her side and brought her knees to her chest.
Gently he bathed her with the washcloth. The water in the bucket turned a deeper and darker red each time he rinsed it. With each swipe of the warm wet cloth, her skin began to appear.
Either the vaccine was working quickly, which he doubted, or his gentle touch was soothing her.
When he got to her feet, he noticed a small tattoo of a dove on her ankle. He hadn’t noticed it before and stopped when he discovered it. He looked up her youthful, lean and naked body. If he were to guess, he’d say she was in her mid twenties. Where she came from was unknown and he never took the time nor cared before about where his test patients had originated. He again wiped the tattoo and found himself curious as to why she had it. Each person had a story and he now wanted to know hers.
Reed, Illinois
Daryl was happy to be back at his house. It had taken weeks, but he had finally found Hudson. Getting him back wasn’t easy, but he accomplished what many would have said was impossible. Being home would give him the break he needed. He didn’t know if his legs and back were aching from sitting or from the fight with the cannibals days before.
Surviving the ordeal was a miracle, so when he had seen the sun that morning, he said a quick prayer. Each day he was above ground was a good one.
It felt good to be somewhere familiar, but the house also brought back many bad memories he wanted to forget.
He thought about the last time he’d been in the house. He had made a nice dinner for Devin, Tess and Brianna to distract them long enough until he managed to leave. He couldn’t in good conscience put their lives in danger for his son; it was a job he and he alone had to do.
He walked the rooms of the house like he was a buyer walking through an open house. In the kitchen he saw that all the dishes from that last night were cleaned and put away. A large grin graced his face when he imagined them taking the time and making the effort.
Passing through the dining room, he saw an envelope with his name on it on the dining table. He picked it up and tore it open. Inside was a handwritten note from Tess. She thanked him for his hospitality and finished with an invitation to come to North Carolina. At the bottom was her address. The letter made him feel good and something he hadn’t felt in a while—wanted. He folded it up, slid it back into the envelope and placed it back on the table.
Taking another trip was something he had zero desire to do, but to be around others did sound inviting and the old house wasn’t the same anymore. He liked having options, and if the need arose, he’d fly there instead of driving.
Pine Bluffs, Wyoming
“Hi, Travis, thanks for stopping by,” Cassidy said, fully opening the door to the small house she had called home since her arrival there.
He smiled and replied, “Hi, you look happier.”
“Please come in,” she said, motioning with her arm for him to come in.
He crossed the threshold and stood uncomfortably in the vestibule. He had thought long and hard about what he’d say and do during this meeting. He had resolved to do whatever she wanted without argument.
“A drink?” she offered.
“Sure.”
“I made some vodka martinis; thank God olives don’t spoil too easily. I made it a bit dirty; I remember you like it that way.”
“Good memory,” he said and happily took the drink from her.
Since Cassidy’s arrival in Pine Bluffs, she knew Travis more than anyone. He had made himself available and was present for anything she ever needed. She appreciated this and had come to trust him, so what she was about to tell him came hard, but she found it necessary for both of them.
“I also have some snacks, Betty the baker—I love that name—makes some of the best baguettes I’ve ever had. Maybe my memory’s gone bad, but I swear they’re the best. If you drizzle some raw honey on them, even better,” she said with a sweet but nervous smile.
Travis hadn’t seen her like this before. Yes, he had encountered a gentle and nice side of her, but this was different. She was going out of her way to make him feel special, almost as if this was a date of some kind.
“Thanks, looks good,” he said, taking a slice of bread with honey.
She settled into her chair and looked at Travis fondly.
He returned her pleasant gaze and said, “Um, I have to say this is very nice, but I sense something is up.”
“Before I tell you what’s on my mind, I wanted to tell you how grateful I am. I cannot thank you enough. You saved my life and ever since day one have been helping me. I wouldn’t be here without you, and for that I’m eternally grateful.”
“So here comes the but.”
She looked down and said, “But…I need to go and I don’t think it’s the best idea you come with me. I know you said you want to go find your fiancée and that’s great, but I have a long journey ahead of me, and I need to do it without distraction or diversion.”
“So you don’t want me to come along because I’m looking for my fiancée too?”
“Are you really going to look for your fiancée, or are you just trying to find something to do?”
“Can’t I do both?”
“I can’t help but think that you might think there’s something that might happen between us.”
“You mean romantically?”
“Travis, please don’t get upset. I am truly grateful to you, but the magistrate talked to me. He told me all about Lori.”
Hearing this, Travis hung his head and mumbled something unintelligible.
“I know you loved her. I don’t know what you think you’ll accomplish by coming with me. I can take care of myself and—”
“You need me. It’s a dangerous world out there and you haven’t seen it. I have.”
“I won’t be going alone; the magistrate has offered me a vehicle and several armed and capable men. He called it a thank you present.”
Shaking his head, Travis blurted out, “He backdoored me.”
“No, he didn’t. I had already made up my mind earlier. I need to go find Devin and, like I said, without distractions or diversions. If you want to go find Tess, then go; do what you need to do.”
A feeling like someone had dug out his heart hit him. He didn’t love her nor did he have romantic feelings for her. He just looked at her as someone fragile and alone. He had been trained to protect and that’s just what
he not only wanted to do but needed to.
“Travis, look at me,” she said.
He lifted his head and asked, “What?”
“I’ll be fine and so will you.”
His hand was shaking when he lifted the full glass, spilling some martini on his pants. “Damn.”
“Let me get you a napkin.”
“No, just stay seated.”
She did as he said and sadly looked at him.
Emotions rose in him and his lips trembled. “I loved Lori, but I couldn’t save her. I look at you and see someone I might be able to save. I lost Tess months ago, and then lost Lori. You came into my life the same day I lost her. I felt that God must have put you there so I could get it right.”
She walked over to him and took his hand.
“I understand, but I need to go find Devin and you need to go find Tess or whatever you need to do. I’m not your responsibility, and I don’t mean that in a way to make light of your commitment to me.”
“I know.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be, I’m just disappointed, but I’ll be okay. I’ll be honest, I just feel lost and alone.”
“So do I, but I just know your destiny is not with me. I have a long journey ahead and I hope at the end of it, I’ll find Devin. I won’t stop until I do. That could take years, you know that.”
“I know.”
They enjoyed a few more drinks and finished off the bread and honey. When the evening came to a close, Travis felt sad because he knew he’d never see her again and because he didn’t know what to do with himself.
She embraced him tightly and said, “Thank you, Travis, I’ll never forget you.”
“Goodbye, Cassidy.”
He exited into the darkness of the night. Cassidy had made up her mind; she was going it alone. Not the type of man who aimlessly wandered, he needed to find another purpose, and what that was still eluded him, but he’d find it.
Day 236
May 24, 2015
Charleston, South Carolina
“No, Tess!”
Devin woke suddenly, sweat glistening on his forehead and arms. A yellow glow from the fluorescent floodlights cut through slits in the tent flaps and hit his cot. Unable to fall back to sleep, he lay there listening to every noise with suspicion that one creak or footfall would be someone coming to slice his throat. To make matters worse for anyone who could sleep were the screams of pain and despair coming from the captives. He had survived the day; he just needed to continue that streak. More cries of pain echoed. He wondered who they were or what their lives were before the Death had come. Selfishly he was happy it wasn’t him crying out, begging for mercy. Their screams began to turn his stomach; he knew some came from children. Just a couple weeks ago he and Tess had first journeyed there to rescue the teenage siblings of the little kids. That mission had ended in utter failure. Now his second incursion into Renfield’s domain had resulted in another failure and this one was almost fatal. When his mind wasn’t listening to the countless sounds around him, he took advantage of the time to formulate an escape plan. Any idea of just making a run for it was dashed when Renfield ordered a man to accompany Devin at all times.
The Death: The Complete Trilogy Page 50
