Black Melt

by Indy McDaniel

  With each passing moment, Andrea could feel weakness flowing into her. She wondered if the whole thing was a stress induced anxiety attack. A vividly terrible hallucination brought on by her fear of being trapped in a metal tube surrounded by people she didn’t know. She hoped that was the case, even as the infected man ripped her squirming, viscera-covered daughter from her body. As the life faded from her eyes, she watched as the man brought the mewling child up to his face and puked all over it. In the end, Andrea Carmichael outlived her daughter. But only by scant seconds.

  The baby melted away in the infected man’s hands and he let out a groan of relief as he absorbed the raw nutrients. With the meager snack finished, he turned his attention back to the mother now lying dead on the toilet before him. The internal voices creeping through his jumbled head whispered words of praise and condemnation at him. The mid-air meal hadn’t been part of the plan, one of the voices kept telling him. He was going to screw everything up. But the hunger had been boiling within him for nearly a day, shortly after leaving the hospital. He’d been in the room when that bitch had burst like a ripened zit. Five years as a nurse and he’d never seen anything like it. Now, he no doubt had whatever sickness she’d come in with. It was in his head, telling him to do things he didn’t want to do and couldn’t hope to understand.

  Like book a flight to Baltimore. He had no idea why he was going there. He didn’t have family or friends in the city. But the tickling in the back of his head had told him to go, so he had. It was impossible to resist. The dead woman he was currently puking all over and absorbing had been the same way. When he saw her get up from her seat and make her way to the bathroom, the hunger had spiked. Maybe it was because she reminded him of the bitch from the hospital. The satisfaction of killing her hadn’t just been from the infection, he knew that and it made him sick. But he wasn’t in complete control – or any control – of his actions. And she tasted so good. So had the kid, but she was different. More filling. He didn’t know if it was because there was so much more of her or something else and he realized he didn’t really care as he tore away a chunk of her hair and scalp and shoved it into his mouth to let it dissolve like cotton candy on his tongue.

  He could melt her away, consume every cell of her, and still have room for more. But he couldn’t clean up the mess left behind. That would have to stay and it would only be a matter of time before someone else found it. Once they did, he didn’t know what would happen. An emergency landing, an investigation, full body search. If that happened, he would be found out. The infection had spread too far through his system to go undetected even by a casual observer. Plus, there was the state of his clothes. They were covered in just about as much gunk as the rest of the bathroom and half burnt away from the digestive vomit he’d spewed all over the place.

  No worries, one of the many voices in his head told him with reassurance. Plenty of tasty morsels left on the plane. And it’s been too long since we’ve been to an all you can eat buffet. The man smirked with eager anticipation then went back to consuming what was left of the dead woman on the toilet.

  * * *

  After breakfast and a shower, Stark went about checking his own email while Zoey got ready for the day. He checked the incident reports from the previous day. The potential spread of the fungal infection seemed to be contained. O’Malley and Kurylenko’s apartment had been scrubbed of any contagions and the contents were being sorted and cataloged for further investigation. The same went for the Fallen Angels strip club and Moone’s apartment. All three had been cleared of any potential lingering contaminants. The hospital was a bit of a trickier situation. It had been cleaned and the majority of the staff and patients had been cleared of any signs of infection, but the problem was the delay between the time of the initial incident and the CDC’s arrival. The patients were all accounted for, but there were three staff members scheduled to be working that day who hadn’t turned up afterwards. Of the three, one had called in sick the morning of the incident, but that still left two unaccounted for.

  A nurse by the name of Benjamin Stone and an administrator by the name of Jasmine Willis. The local cops already had APB’s out for both of them. With a bit of luck, they’d both turn up sans infection.

  In the meantime, Stark planned to head up to CyberWolfe Industries’ main corporate office in New York. The information they’d pulled off of Kurylenko’s computer was pretty damning, but it hadn’t given a location of whatever lab the infection had originated from. He doubted the two thieves had sealed the place up when they left, so it posed the greatest risk of the infection spreading. If it took playing a bit of hardball with some corporate executives, so be it. As important as they may have felt their research was, Stark didn’t care. It had cost the lives of at least three people so far and that didn’t even include the research team that had been in the lab. He didn’t know whether or not those people had gotten out alive, but if Zoey’s theory of an outbreak within the lab held up, he didn’t think it was likely. Not after what he’d seen the previous day.

  Hearing the door to the bathroom open, Stark turned to ask Zoey how much longer she needed to get ready. It would take them at least two hours to make the drive from Philly up to New York and that wasn’t factoring in traffic. But that question died on his lips as he saw Zoey’s outfit. He’d found her casual jeans and t-shirt attire from the previous day interesting, but he hadn’t expected her to surprise him yet again. “What are you wearing?” he asked.

  Zoey looked down at herself. “Sundress,” she replied. “Casual, comfortable, fitting for the spring season.”

  “Fair enough,” Stark conceded. “But why are you wearing it?”

  A hint of a blush formed on Zoey’s cheeks. “First time going to New York. Wanted to look…” She paused, searching for the right word. “Pretty.”

  Stark laughed. “Well, you nailed it. You look very pretty. Just don’t know how intimidating you’ll be to the higher ups at CyberWolfe.”

  “Brains far more intimidating than muscles,” Zoey said. “Besides, have you for muscles. Executives may be more at ease if they don’t think I’m a threat. More willing to give information. Not expecting me to give them any trouble.”

  “The whole looks can be deceiving trick, huh?”

  Zoey shrugged. “So far, a successful tactic. After all, you thought I was a real girl.”

  “Wearing a dress like that, I don’t think anyone could argue you’re not a real girl.”

  Zoey smiled. “A sweet sentiment. Let’s hope CyberWolfe shares it.”

  * * *

  Once in the car, Stark realized he didn’t know all that much about Zoey beyond the essentials. And yet, you’ve already had sex with her, he thought a bit guiltily. Way to go. You’re officially a man-whore. He wasn’t even sure what to tune the radio to, so he decided to leave it off for the moment and focus on getting to know her better. Idle chat, general curiosity, or laying the groundwork for something deeper, he wasn’t sure which, but they had more than enough time on their hands. After buckling in, Zoey had gone back to her tablet. She seemed glued to the thing. Or maybe she feels as awkward about last night as I do, he thought.

  “So what made you want to work for the CDC?” he asked. “Childhood dream?”

  “More like genetic destiny,” Zoey replied. “Highly intelligent, have been as long as I can remember. Gifted programs in grade school, early admission to college. Took a particular interest in medicine, partly due to my own condition. CDC offered me job. Not as well paying as private practice, but more interesting. More fun.”

  “Chasing down infectious diseases and diving headfirst into highly contagious outbreaks is your idea of fun?”

  “Could ask you the same,” Zoey shot back. “Substituting infectious disease and outbreak for violent criminals and hostage situations.”

  “Yea, but I can see the violent criminals,” Stark countered. “I can talk a hostage taker down. You deal with things that can’t be seen by the naked eye.”


  Zoey nodded. “You’re right. My job, much more thrilling.”

  “I was going to say dangerous.”

  “Only one life,” Zoey shrugged. “Better doing something that makes me happy. Safety boring.”

  A few beats of somewhat awkward silence filled the car. At least, it felt awkward to Stark. “You mind if I ask you why you… well, talk the way you do?”

  “Don’t mind,” Zoey immediately replied. Maybe she didn’t like the silence either. “Other condition of mine. Talked to doctors about it. Best guess, side effect of intelligence. Brain moves too fast for complete sentence at times.” She looked up from her tablet and over to Stark. “Bother you?”

  Stark shook his head. “Not as long as I can keep up with it. So far, I seem to be doing alright. Is that why you say whatever pops into your head?”

  “Don’t,” Zoey argued. “If I did, much smaller sentences.”

  “That’s not what I mean,” Stark said, trying to think of a better way to put it. “Like yesterday, at the strip club. What you said about that stripper’s fake tits.”

  “Only told her the truth,” Zoey said. “Well, comment about more than a handful being a waste comes from opinionated data, but other than that, everything I said factual. Despite advancements, breast enhancement surgery still butchery. Carving up flesh to attain social acceptance. Petty, pointless.”

  “Well, I happen to agree with you, but you didn’t have to tell her that.”

  “Didn’t have to not tell her that, either.”

  The conversation was taking a sudden shift towards potentially dangerous ground. But Stark did want to know more about her, and so far, it didn’t seem like Zoey had too many subjects that were out of bounds. “So what about you?” he asked. “I imagine that at some point, if you plan to fully transition to female, you’re going to have to undergo some butchery of your own.”

  “Different for me,” Zoey said. “Trying to change outer appearance to reflect inner feelings. Not for society, not to impress anyone. Still, though different motivation, the distaste for such things is a major reason why I’ve not undergone the final surgeries yet.”

  “Afraid you’ll have second thoughts?”

  Zoey shook her head. “Not at all. Certain of who I am. Less certain about methods required to become that person.” She waited a moment before firing back her own question. “Did killing O’Malley bother you?”

  Stark was struck by the question, mostly because O’Malley had been the furthest thing from his thoughts. He thought about it for a bit before answering. “In the moment, no.”

  “Now?”

  Stark let out a sigh. “There’s always regrets. I don’t care how often you have to do it, you’re going to wake up the next morning thinking about all the things you could have done differently. Maybe I could have subdued him. Maybe you could’ve cured him. Maybe he’d still be alive and we could question him about where this secret lab is instead of driving two hours to New York to maybe get stonewalled.”

  “Logical doubts, but unnecessary,” Zoey said. “You did the right thing. Any other course of action may have resulted in you becoming infected. Or me. Quick, decisive action required. Unfortunately, action also fatal for O’Malley.”

  “Yea, the logic of it isn’t something I have a problem with,” Stark said. “It’s why I did what I did. I saw a threat, I eliminated it. But it doesn’t stop the other stuff from rolling around in your head.” He glanced over at her. “Don’t you get that? Regrets?”

  “Try not to,” Zoey said.

  “Yea,” Stark muttered. “Me, too.”

  “Do you regret having sex?” she asked bluntly.

  Again, Stark didn’t have an easy answer at the ready. She is way better at this whole question game than I am, he thought. “I don’t know,” he answered honestly. “It was unprofessional of both of us to let it happen, but ultimately, it’s my fault. I made the first move. I still don’t know why I went through with it. I wasn’t that drunk. That said, it was fun. In a really damn bizarre way, it was a lot of fun.”

  “First move was yours,” Zoey agreed. “But my counter move hardly dissuasive.”

  “And why was that?” Stark asked. “You said at dinner, I wasn’t your type.”

  “Caught off guard,” Zoey explained. “Did first thing that came to mind. Besides, also said I’d make an exception at dinner. Didn’t expect you to do the same.”

  Stark laughed. “Neither did I.”

  “Why did you?” Zoey asked.

  “How about you toss me a few easier questions first,” Stark replied. “I’m still trying to sort the answer to that one out myself. But to go back to your original question, no, I don’t regret it. Whatever it was, for whatever reason, I think we had a good time. I know I did. Maybe we should just leave it at that for now. Revisit it when we’re not both working the same case.”

  “Makes sense,” Zoey agreed. “Was just making small talk.

  Stark chuckled. “As far as small talk is concerned, yours is fairly sizeable.”

  Zoey smirked. “Admittedly, not very good at it.”

  “I guess I was throwing you some pretty serious questions, too,” Stark admitted. “Been a while since I had to do the small talk thing. Just gotta keep it casual. What sort of music do you like?”

  “No single genre,” Zoey said. “Like some of this, bits of that. Classical is, well, classic. But also enjoy things of a more electronic nature. Guitars, keyboards, synths. Really depends on mood, what I’m doing, that sort of thing. You?”

  “The Stones are good,” Stark replied. “You listen to them ever?

  “The Rolling Stones, English rock band from the 60’s. Part of the British Invasion. Enjoyable, but tend to be overplayed on radio. Lessens enjoyment. Personally, more a fan of the Kinks.”

  “They your favorite band?” Stark asked. “Do you even have one, or are you too busy jumping around to settle?”

  “Dream Theater,” Zoey answered. “Progressive metal band. Very complex composition. Find the complexity soothing. Listen to it often while working. Helps focus my mind.”

  “Never heard of them.”

  “Not surprised,” Zoey nodded. “Despite American origins, popular mostly in Europe. Have entire discography on tablet. Could play you some, if interested.”

  Stark shrugged. “Sure, always up for listening to some new tunes.”

  Zoey smiled and dug through her purse, coming out with an adapter cable to hook her tablet into the car’s stereo. “I’ll play you Train of Thought. Album from early 2000’s. Not best example of their progressive metal roots, but maybe a good introductory start. More accessible to new listeners.” She turned the volume up loud enough to be heard, but not loud enough that they would have to scream over it to keep talking.

  They continued the small talk as the album played, managing to avoid swerving back into deeper conversation. When it was over, Zoey played him another. He didn’t mind the music. He’d heard far worse, and by the time they got to the third album, he was actually starting to get into it. He could see what she’d meant about it being complex. Whether it was his type of music or not, he had to admit that the musicians were damned talented. The more they talked, the easier it got. After a while, he forgot all about the lingering awkwardness that had been left in the wake of their unexpected sexual encounter.

  Chapter Five

  Wolfe Tracks

  Stark and Zoey arrived in New York just after eleven. They didn’t get to the CyberWolfe Industries building until nearly one. Traffic into downtown during lunch hour was, at best, pure madness. “If I’d known it was gonna be this bad, I would’ve requested a chopper to fly us in,” Stark muttered as he finally pulled into the parking garage beside the main building. He took the parking slip from the machine out front and waited for the gate to raise high enough to drive under it. He pulled into the first vacant parking spot he saw and shut off the engine before turning to Zoey, who was packing up her tablet. “We need a game plan,” he told h
er.

  “We have information to use against them,” Zoey replied. “And government backing. Don’t think that’ll be enough?”

  Stark smirked. “You clearly have never dealt with any big wig executives before.”

  “You have?” she asked.

  “A few,” Stark nodded. “Not these ones in particular, but they don’t change much. They’ve got enough money and influence to feel untouchable, and enough lawyers to back up that feeling. If we’re gonna get through them at all, the trick is gonna be to convince them that they can, in fact, be touched. I think that’s where you could come in nicely.”

  “How so?”

  “Your chatterbox mentality and super smarts to back it up,” Stark explained. “You do your thing and the executives, the lawyers, they’ll be too busy trying to keep up that they might let something slip.”

  “I believe I’m up to the challenge,” Zoey said.

  “Then let’s go give these fancy bastards a nice, hard kick in the ass and see what shakes loose.”

  * * *

  A quick flash of Stark’s badge and a proclamation of FBI business was all it took for the secretary in the lobby to wave Stark and Zoey to the elevators. They rode up to the top floor, executive offices. Where the people in charge looked down on the city and pulled their strings. Stark doubted they had enough – or would get enough – to toss any serious charges their way. CyberWolfe Industries was powerful enough to keep whatever legal entanglements they couldn’t outright shrug off tied up in court for years. And while that didn’t sit well with Stark, he could deal with it. Mostly, he wanted information about the virulent fungus they’d allowed to get out into the world and a location on the lab it had come from so the CDC could ensure no further outbreaks occurred.