by JT Sawyer
Chapter 20
Aspen Pharmaceuticals
Ivins slipped the two stainless-steel picks into the lock on the side door of the immense warehouse while Murph stood beside him. The rest of the team was preparing for an explosive breach of the rear door, where there were supposed to be several people—or creatures. Pacelle had indicated that there were three fluctuating heat signatures coming from an interior room near the back office. What puzzled Ivins the most was that the thermal images kept shifting between that of a normal, healthy human and that of an alpha.
Ivins kept pressure on the L-shaped tool at the bottom of the lock while raking the upper tool back and forth through the keyhole. Twenty second later, the lock clicked and he opened the door. Skulking down the hallway, he and Murph stopped when they arrived at the entrance to the warehouse. He could see tipped-over crates to the right, along with piles of empty pharmaceutical containers strewn about the floor. On a nearby desk was an aquarium-type tank half-filled with clear fluid and strands of milky-white segments. Selene was right about this place being a fueling station for the paras.
Ivins clicked on his radio two times, giving the signal to the rest of his team to execute their entry through the rear door. A moment later, there was a small explosion in the distance, which was Murph and Ivins’ cue to dart into the main warehouse.
“The room is empty,” said Kendrick. “There’s a broken window at the back that opens into your location, and it looks like whatever was in here is coming your way.”
“What?” said Murph. “Then they are paras?”
Ivins saw three figures slip between the aisles ahead. “Or they could be scared humans—we’ve seen that before.”
Ivins headed down the first aisle with Murph following behind him, his muzzle trained on the boxes up top. Ivins paused when he heard a high-pitched gurgling sound to his right. He glanced over some crates into the next aisle and saw something staring back at him. The face appeared human but was covered in huge bleeding ulcers that oozed gray fluid. One of the milky blisters was hanging off the forehead, blocking the left eye.
What the hell is that? He swung his rifle at it, but the creature bounded up the boxes towards the ceiling. “Tangos in the building—these are not humans,” he said into his ear-mic.
Making it to the end of the aisle, he saw a slew of bloody footprints on the cement floor. Interspersed with the goopy fluid was some kind of white, flossy skin similar to what he had seen in the glass tank. Are these alphas or drones—or something else? He felt his heart race at the implications.
As he stepped out from the aisle, he saw a blur of movement to his right, then he caught something jumping from crate to crate three rows down. It moved like a gecko, clinging to the shelves, then it leapt up in an arc, landing on the ground twenty feet away. Strands of loose flesh hung off the neck, and a thick white parasite fluttered in the raw tissue to the side of the trachea. Ivins could see black tendrils rippling on the underside of the finger-thick parasite. Fist-sized ulcers covered the arms of the beast, and its jaw clattered as it moved forward, exposing its cracked yellow teeth.
Ivins fired three rounds into the center of its head, blowing out the back of the skull. “Contact, six o’clock,” Kendrick shouted into his earpiece. He heard a volley of gunfire followed by silence. Before he could respond, Ivins saw another deformed beast burst from the next aisle and bound at them. Murph unleashed a string of rounds, dropping the creature ten feet from them. It slid to a halt, glazing the cement with red and white sludge as the ulcers on its face and chest broke open.
He tapped on his ear-mic. “Kendrick—SITREP.”
“Clear here, but the creature got away—crashed through a window and disappeared into the woods. But we found another one with its head removed—dead for some time though.”
He waited for Kendrick to join them, then they all stepped closer to the dead creatures splayed on the floor.
“These aren’t alphas,” said Lemley. “The skin reminds me of bloated fish that have been baking on the beach for days.”
“And their heads were covered in blisters, or pustules, or whatever the fuck that was,” said Murph.
“But they sure moved like alphas. They weren’t sluggish like drones,” said Kendrick.
Ivins took photographs of the bodies and glass tank with his cellphone and sent the images to Selene. “Something new, maybe,” Ivins said, unsure if he was asking a question or not.
“They make drones seem a helluva lot more pleasant to look at,” said Murph.
Ivins studied the empty vials on the steel counter to the left then glanced back at the glass tank, wondering what would come of the creature that got away. God knows what the hell was going on here. Was Roland creating some new kind of monster? But then why leave them behind like this—or did he take things too far this time and nature bit him in the ass?
Ivins didn’t have the answers but was starting to believe, with what he witnessed in Biloxi and now here, that Roland was truly embarking on some kind of Frankenstein experiment. He felt like the ceiling of the warehouse was pressing down on him, and he motioned his team to follow him out of the building as he called in the Blackhawk for extraction, brushing his fingers along the crucifix he kept in his vest pocket as they hastily made their way to the LZ.
Chapter 21
Reisner and his team had taken an intersecting route through the forest to close the distance between them and the three people on foot. Reisner’s team arrived a few minutes before them, and he stood on the trail with his rifle lowered to one side while the rest of his group took up shooting positions in the terrain to either side. He wasn’t sure that the locals were going to be on friendly terms with outsiders, even apart from current events, given the previous reputation small towns in this area had for being fiercely independent and even occasionally anti-government. He hoped he was wrong, but it was better to play it safe, so he had his team’s sniper skills on standby. The last transmission from Pacelle indicated that the group was only a half-mile away, but the dense forest and surrounding swamps made scanning the terrain ahead a challenge.
Suddenly, Reisner saw a flash of black and white on the narrow trail, right where it curved towards his location. A low growl ensued, followed by barking, as a Border Collie came into view, standing in the center of the trail thirty yards away. A second later, two men and a gray-haired woman appeared, their hunting rifles swinging up in Reisner’s direction.
He was astounded at the sight of the dog; he realized it was the first one he’d seen up close since the start of the pandemic. He’d spotted others from the helicopter as they flew over ravaged cities, but those were mostly small packs of emaciated scavengers, more akin to coyotes than the robust animal staring him down now. As the people continued to move forward, the dog kept pace, its eyes never leaving Reisner.
“I’m not here for any trouble—only to talk,” he said, raising his left hand up from his AR.
The three kept inching closer, their weapons still fixed on his chest. The woman, however, was scanning the surrounding forest and darting scrutinizing glances at him. The dog was now ten feet away and stopped upon hearing a command from the woman. The closest man had a wispy beard and looked to be in his forties, while the other one appeared to be no more than twenty-one. By their looks, they seemed like they could be father and son.
“Name’s Will Reisner, and I’m with a search team. I’m hoping you can help me with information on some people who recently went missing from these parts—several teenagers were abducted a few miles away from this area, according to what we picked up on the airwaves.”
The woman’s face turned red, and she closed the distance quickly, thrusting her 30/30 rifle into his ribs. “You know something about my Abby? Where is she?”
“Easy, lady—that’s what I was hoping you could tell me.” The Border Collie had rushed up and was now sniffing his pant legs and hovering its muzzle uncomfortably between his legs.
“You wanna call off you
r pup,” Reisner said, giving the woman an irritated look.
“Or what, you gonna take us all on?” said the younger man, who was circling behind him. “He looks like a militia type to me—probably one of Vern Schrade’s guys from across the river.”
Reisner waved his outstretched hand in the air, causing Nash, Wexler, and Connelly to step out from their concealed positions, their weapons trained on the three farmers.
“We’re not militia—far from it. I’m part of a U.S. military reconnaissance team. We’re searching for one of the creatures—an alpha who is believed to be in these parts and is most likely connected with the missing teens.”
“Just cool it and lower your rifles,” said the older man. “They’ve probably got more people in the area, and they look like they could shoot the pecker off a chicken from a mile away.” He shifted to his right, giving a nod. “Name’s Tucker, and this is my boy, Leonard.” He motioned to the woman. “Lorraine here is the owner of the farm where we’re all staying—us and eight other folks who found refuge here after Jamestown was overrun during the first week of the virus.”
Lorraine bit her lower lip. “My brother was the owner, actually, but he…he, uhm, and his family, except for my dear niece Abby, they…” She blinked hard then cleared her throat. “They didn’t make it.”
The woman took a step back, using a hand signal to recall her dog. “Good boy, Mancos.”
She looked up at Reisner with desperation in her eyes. “Abby and Mancos are all that’s left of what family I had.” She knelt down, wrapping her arms around the dog’s neck. “What do you mean by abduction? Those things only drag people off to kill ’em and eat ’em.”
“There’s another type of creature—more advanced—kind of the pack leader for them all. We believe he was the mastermind behind the attack at MacDill Air Force Base last month.”
“We heard about that on the ham radio,” exclaimed the young man, his eyes widening. “Were you there? Was it as crazy as they say, with thousands of those creatures hurling themselves over the walls?”
Reisner’s mind raced over the harrowing events on the battlefield, then he quickly drove away the thought of how close they’d come to losing. “More like hundreds of thousands, but the new bioweapon stopped them before any significant breach occurred.”
“So, it is true—you’ve managed to find a way to kill them all.”
“Only the drones—the alphas are another story and not affected by the bioagent.” He lowered his hands, resting them on his rifle. “Look, we can catch up on recent developments another time. Right now, I need to know anything you can tell me about the creatures’ movements through these parts and any other abductions or killings.” He took a step closer to the woman. “And you said someone named Abby went missing—when did this happen and where?”
The woman turned her gaze down, her eyes tearing. “Two days ago.” She pointed to the right. “Abby and three of the adults from our group were venturing out south of here a few miles to trade some goods with another farm down the way. At first, we thought that crazy survivalist Schrade mighta done something to her, but then we found a bunch of tracks in the mud on this side of the river, two miles down—barefoot, like those creatures. They were headed southwest.”
Tucker moved closer to the woman, resting his hand on her shoulder. “We followed the group of ’em, probably about eight alphas, but we lost the trail after they headed into a swamp.”
“What direction is that swamp from here?” said Reisner.
“At that point, it’s west.”
Reisner thought back to the location of the pharmaceutical warehouse outside of Charleston. That would be in line with their direction of travel from here. We have to be closing in on them—on him.
“Why would they be taken alive?” said Tucker.
Reisner wasn’t ready to reveal the other bizarre cases involving children and the findings at Roland’s estate in Savannah. He wasn’t sure himself what kind of horrific undertaking was unfolding right now with the missing teenagers, but he was certain it was going to involve an unpleasant ending, regardless of Roland’s objective. “Not sure, but with your help and your knowledge of the countryside, maybe we can get some answers.”
He raised his left hand and whirled his index finger, indicating that the rest of his team should join him. Reisner felt like they were finally on the right trail and the search grid for Roland was narrowing, but he had to curb his optimism, given the past three weeks of futile missions to locate the creature. Maybe this time.
Chapter 22
“How did you manage to keep all the creatures from finding this place?” said Connelly as they followed Lorraine and the others along the dirt road leading up to their farmhouse, which overlooked a small grazing pasture. Along the way, Lorraine pointed out their sentries nestled on old deer stands in the trees and introduced the newcomers to the others, who were busy working in the barn or the garden.
“We insulated the part of the barn where the livestock are kept with straw bales to reduce their noise.” She lifted a furrowed finger towards the treeline to the south. “The river forms a natural barrier on one side, and there’s only one road coming in. All the swamps in the area make this place pretty hard to reach. Next to Schrade’s place and a couple of others, there are only a few families in the area that survived, and that’s probably because Jamestown was never on the way to anywhere. Plus, we’ve got some motorboats spread along the river, so we can easily escape if this place ever gets overrun.”
“You may want to rethink some of your defenses,” said Porter. “We’ve seen those things swim across rivers and even stay submerged in swamps.
Lorraine and Tucker both gave alarmed looks at each other. “This I didn’t know,” said Tucker.
“We’ve also got a lot of bears in the area,” said Leonard. “And when we don’t see them or their tracks down by the river for more than one day, we know there are creatures coming in to the area. The bears will go after them, since they got habituated to their meat from all the bodies we dumped into the ravine east of here.”
“Smart thinkin’, kid,” said Gomez.
Lorraine opened the front door and invited them inside, then showed them into the kitchen.
Reisner could understand how they had held out here without much need for outside assistance. The stocked pantries in the house and stacks of smoked venison in the rafters were enough to see the small group through the winter. Coupled with a half-dozen pigs penned in the barn and the nearby trout stream, Reisner could see that it was possible to live and not merely survive outside the confines of a militarized zone. It gave him a sense of hope that he, Selene, and Jody would not be consigned to a life at sea.
Reisner sat down at the table across from Lorraine. “One thing I am curious about is this guy Schrade who you’ve alluded to. So, he lives across the property, yet your two groups don’t interact or help each other out after all that’s gone on in the world.”
“We have tried,” said Tucker, resting his boot on a crate. “He’s some kinda paranoid prepper.”
“Aren’t they all,” said Nash.
“He’s like no one I’ve ever met,” said Lorraine. “Even before the pandemic, he was living like the North Koreans were going to be invading, like in that movie Red Dawn.” She raised an eyebrow. “He’s got boobytraps in the ground, security cameras in his trees, and God knows what inside his house—probably a machinegun at each window.”
“And his poor son has to live like a prisoner,” said Leonard. “Nice kid, though a little off.”
“Who wouldn’t be, being raised by a nutjob,” said Lorraine.
“And he didn’t offer to help with the search for Abby?” said Porter.
Tucker shook his head. “We mostly communicate by radio or when we run into each other down by the river to check the fish traps—that is, when he’s not passed out somewhere. His son Nick told us that’s often the case—that boy seems more put together than his old man.”
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p; “Surprised Nick has even made it this long,” said Lorraine, running her weathered hand along the dog’s neck.
“Kids can be remarkably resilient,” said Reisner. “They can bounce back from a lot of trauma.”
“It’s not that so much. He’s sickly—got some kind of unusual cancer,” said Lorraine. “My Abby told me he takes pills for it and that his dad bribed some doctor in Columbia last summer to provide him with plenty of what he needs.”
Reisner felt his neck muscles tense as he glanced over at Nash then back at the woman. “What kind of cancer exactly—do you remember?”
Lorraine looked up at the ceiling, her eyes darting around the old planks. “Vera something or other. I don’t recall the exact name.”
“Polycythemia Vera?” said Reisner.
She shrugged her shoulders. “Could be—not sure.”
Reisner gave her a gracious nod then motioned for Nash to join him on the front porch. They walked outside, habitually scanning the edge of the forest for any movement, but they only saw Gomez and Connelly at their assigned points along the perimeter.
“This is what he’s been looking for—Roland is searching for others like him. If he can’t create more with his abilities by using women or children, then he needs to locate others afflicted by the blood cancer.”
“How would he even know to look out this far? And how would he know to look for other survivors with PV?”
“Because he already knows that the other alphas around the world became what they are because of their cancer. What he doesn’t know and what he desperately needs is someone who is still human.”
“That’s why he’s been having his alphas test out their blood on so many victims. The medical experiment he began at his estate by transfusing his blood into the woman we found at the greenhouse didn’t work. That would have been the surest route to creating more like him, only he tried to bend nature too far. Now, he’s going back to the root—find others still alive with PV and transform them like he was transformed.”
