“Mind if I join you?” It was Josie.
Zanzi moved over on the step and patted the space. “How are you?”
“Okay. I guess. Mentally I feel fine. My stomach is in twists. I don’t think I can cry anymore. Now I feel determined to make ReinCorp pay.”
They sat in silence for a few minutes. Zanzi was lost in thought. Like Josie, she wanted to go back and destroy the satellite installation called The Eyrie, but it was heavily guarded, and she had no means to do so.
“Can I ask you something?” Zanzi said.
“About?”
“These nanites. How do they work? Milo said we have billions of them in our bloodstream and in our brain, but how do they know who to trigger? To, you know, turn to ash?”
“It will be easier to show you.” Josie stood and moved back inside the trailer.
The scientist booted up her laptop and zipped open a black rucksack. From it she grabbed a flat baton, about the size of a 27-ounce water bottle. She clicked a red button on the side and swiped it over Zanzi’s neck. It emitted a sharp beep.
“Attached to the back of the brain is the alpha nanite. Actually, it’s thousands of them bonded together to form the CPU. It receives signals telling the worker nanites what to do. In my research, I was looking at ways to repair damaged cells in the spine.”
Josie turned her laptop around. On the screen were streams of green numbers, with one sequence in a larger font, also colored green.
“That large number is your alpha. It’s showing green, so it’s safe. If it was flashing red, then I’d be worried.”
“Can Offenheim make it flash red?”
“Not likely. I reprogrammed yours to act like theirs. Elite, having the same fail safes. Tilly too.”
“When did you do that?”
“While you were sleeping. Milo asked me to do it a couple of days ago.”
“I don’t understand.”
“Milo came to me asking if I knew who had taken Amelia off the list. Which I found strange, as he knows full well that only two people are capable of that. Killian and Daniel Kummerow.”
“That’s when you agreed to help us?”
“Yes. Milo offered me and Harriet a way out for good. All I had to do was update your alphas and assist you once you reached Portland.”
“But how did you update it?”
“Using the Wi-Fi. The alpha receives data packets like a cell phone.” Josie brushed a tear from her cheek and murmured, “Did Milo know about Harriet?”
“Only after I told him. Can we trust him?”
“He’s one of the better ones. After his wife Amelia died, his demeanor changed. Like he doesn’t want any part of it anymore and wants to leave.”
Zanzi bit the inside of her bottom lip, thinking of all the things she wanted to do to Offenheim. Getting to him was going to be the challenge. “Essentially, the nanites are a small computer?” she said.
“In a nutshell, yes. Extremely small. With only one specific task. Some are shaped like ticks to interact with blood cells, give them the proteins and enzymes needed for healing.”
“A tick?” Zanzi shook her head. “I knew I wasn’t seeing things.”
“You saw one?”
“Yeah, I was examining Harriet’s blood…” Zanzi paused, unsure how to continue. The last few days had been a whirlwind of adrenaline-inducing situations. Part of her wanted to sugar coat it all for Josie but she’d always favored honesty.
“I’m sorry. That’s how I became involved in all this. I saw one of the nanites in a blood sample of your daughter. I didn’t know what I saw, so I asked Doctor Kohli to look. Half an hour later the lab blew up and those commandos were attacking us.”
“It’s okay. It’s not your fault. ReinCorp, and only them, are to blame.”
Zanzi nodded. It all came back to Offenheim. During the flight to Portland she had run through a dozen ideas of how she could destroy the satellite installation. But she was just one desperate person, not a soldier. She thought of Devil’s Falls and the corpse of the elderly man they had seen, his spine licked clean as if it held the elixir of youth.
“There’s something that I’m curious about,” she said. “The rabid humans, with the cloudy eyes – any ideas as to why they suck the spine?”
Josie took a sip of her tea before answering. “I’m sure that in your studies you touched on cerebrospinal fluid. What is does, et cetera. At first I thought the suckers wanted it for the chloride or sodium, maybe the electrolytes, but those can be found in blood plasma. Different levels, of course.”
“And now, you’re not so sure?”
“It can’t be that simple. It doesn’t make sense. What I need is a fresh sample. That’s today’s mission. Working will help take my mind off Harriet.”
“Occam’s razor?”
“Exactly. The simplest explanation is usually the right one, I know. Perhaps you’re right.”
Zanzi mulled it over. Josie’s theory, or her conclusion, at least, closely mirrored her own. The Rabids – suckers, berserkers, whatever you wanted to call them – must want the spinal fluid for another reason. In this case, there was no simple solution.
Her eyes widened as an idea popped in her head. “What about stem cells?” she said, her voice filled with excitement. “Doesn’t marrow contain hematopoietic? Maybe they want that, suck it right out of the vertebrae.” She made a sucking sound like a kid finishing the last drops of a soda.
“I don’t think so. Wouldn’t they just crack open a femur or a radius? There’s plenty of red marrow in those.”
The two scientists watched the sun creep above the horizon. It felt good to talk on an intellectual level with Josie. The past few days had been hell. Zanzi had barely escaped being blown sky high, then been chased by Black Skulls. Tortured by Alba. Made to witness the end of the world.
Now she had a chance to get back. To do what her parents did. Fight for the freedoms of the many.
“We need to figure out a plan,” Zanzi said, “to take down ReinCorp.”
Josie sat up a bit straighter. “I was thinking about that as I lay awake. About your idea of playing possum. It could work, but the helicopter ride in a body bag, I’m not so sure. And once we reach The Eyrie you’d be taken straight to the lab where an autopsy would be performed by other scientists. I’d be given samples and a report, but at no stage can I be present. It’s not my job. They’d know if I try. I can’t risk your life too.”
“Okay. But you can get back to The Eyrie?”
Josie nodded and drained her cup.
“Run me through what your orders are. See if we can figure out another way,” said Zanzi.
“Once the lab is ready at Legacy Emanuel Medical Center, I’m to take samples and run diagnostics, figure out why the victims behaved the way they did. There will be a team. We all have our specialties.” Josie looked at her watch. “I’m to meet a field team at zero-nine-hundred to go over the mission.”
“Can you get us on that team?”
“Possible, but risky.”
“Won’t you be wearing protective suits?” Zanzi said.
“Yes, but our hoods will be open.”
Zanzi took another sip of her green tea, swirling the gritty dregs in her mouth to savor the bitter taste. “What if Tilly and I come to the hospital? I know my way around a lab. I can help. It might take us a few weeks, but we could get back up there that way.”
“Not with Tilly. She’s too recognizable, even if you dye her hair.” Josie stood. “I need to head to the mess hall. I’ll bring you back something.”
“Any chance you can bring back a working radio or, better yet, a phone?”
“I’ll see what I can do.”
Josie Lahm left the trailer, closing the door with a click.
Zanzi made herself comfortable, envious of Tilly, who still slept. Back in The Eyrie, Zanzi’s only thoughts had been to destroy ReinCorp from the inside. But there was no way she could gain the level of trust she needed. Milo could be an option,
but he was a believer, only wanting revenge because of what they had done to his wife. He still believed, as far as she knew, in ReinCorp’s mission, their end game: to recreate the world the way they wanted.
Zanzi needed another way. Brute force? Sneak attack? She knew some of the layout. Maybe it was possible to blow some of the satellite dishes and radio equipment. She was desperate to find Lisa and any patriotic military left standing.
Tilly woke yawning then stretched. “Breakfast?”
“Josie is going to bring us something.”
“Breakfast is a funny word, don’t you think? I mean, why is it called that? Lunch and dinner too, those are weird enough. My mum used to call dinner tea, but I thought that was a drink. Like those fancy people do, you know – tea and cakes in the afternoon. She would call us, ‘Tea is ready.’ My sister and I would look at each other and laugh.”
Zanzi smiled. Tilly had a way of making her forget all her anxiety.
“Was your mum English?”
“Nah, she came from Jamaica when she was a little girl. Her and Dad worked together before they had us.”
“That explains it. Sometimes the English call dinner tea. It’s just their word for it. Even though lots of countries speak English as a language, each country has its own lingo – words that are only used there. Breakfast literally means break your fast. Meaning, you are breaking your fast since you last ate.”
“Oh. Yeah. That makes sense,” Tilly said.
***
Time dragged on. Josie had been gone for over two hours. Zanzi hated being stuck inside. All she and Tilly could do was peer out the window and watch the camp. She had to give it to ReinCorp; it was well organized. Tents and supplies in neat rows. Personnel with clipboards and tablets, keeping track of everyone. Medical staff giving free consultations. The medication, like everything, would be laced with nanites.
Tilly yelped from the other side of the trailer and jumped away from the curtain.
“What is it?” Zanzi said.
“A man, like that old lady. Cloudy eyes.”
A Rabid was pressed against the chain link fence, the mesh digging into its pale flesh, adding to the red slashes. It still wore jeans, though they were torn and dirty. A white T-shirt clung to its bony frame, hanging on by threads. Zanzi craned her neck and looked farther out. Dozens more were advancing toward them, unhurried, slow and steady. Like they didn’t have a care in the world, other than the promise of fresh spinal fluid on display.
Shots rang out. Singles at first, followed by rapid gunfire as klaxons rang out through the camp. Boots thumped on the ground.
Trailer doors opened and slammed.
Engines revved.
Rifles barked.
Zanzi shrugged into her rucksack. “We need to go. Stay close to me, okay?”
They eased their way from the trailer. The Rabids had blocked off the best escape route, out over the back fence and into the trees. Louder gunfire erupted from the front of the camp as SUVs and smaller cars tore out. Soldiers ran to the perimeter, looking to a bearded man for directions. Zanzi ducked down between the accommodations and pulled Tilly behind her. Surely this camp would have an armory. Most likely in a plain tent, out of the way. Next to something else so it could be easily guarded, but far enough away that if it went boom no one would be injured or killed. She mapped out the small fraction of the camp she had seen. Next to where the crates had been unloaded had been an odd grouping of five tents, four at each compass point with one in the middle, like the tents themselves were keeping guard. It was worth a shot.
“Stay close to me,” she repeated to Tilly.
They zig-zagged their way past RVs. Past trailers and food trucks lined up in rows. Armed men and women ran to the perimeter, ignoring them. Even so, Zanzi dragged Tilly under a caravan and they crawled along on their stomachs, pausing and checking every few meters.
Louder, higher caliber guns rang out, controlled and precise. Then, as quick as the shooting and shouting started, it stopped.
Zanzi cursed. The armory was only a few meters away. Now the same armed men and women walked back down the rows. Some were laughing, others slapping their friends on the back. A couple walked past, bragging at the kill shots they’d executed.
“Did you see its head explode? Like a fucking watermelon. Dumb fuckers.”
“Now Juno’s going to up the defenses. I don’t fancy shivering my ass off on fucking guard duty. Who were those idiots anyhow?”
“Raiders. Lots of reports coming in from the stations. The cleanup crews aren’t doing a good enough job.”
Their voices faded out of earshot. Tilly sighed and rolled onto her back to stare at the underfloor of the caravan “Dad took us on this trip to Mexico in one of these. He and Mum wanted to look at the Aztec ruins and at the Temple of the Sun, or the moon or something. But all my sister and I wanted to do was eat tacos and try chilies. We camped on the side of the road at the beach, wherever. Dad got so angry at me for picking up stray dogs and smuggling them into the RV. So mad. The whole time I was on that holiday, I hated it. I wanted to spend the summer with my friends at camp, not stuck with my parents and my kid sister.” Tilly’s eyes glistened with tears. “Now I want nothing more than to be on that holiday again. Then I could warn them about the bad men. The ones that shot Mum and Dad.” She wrapped her arms around Zanzi, nestling her face into the nape of Zanzi’s neck.
Zanzi held her. Life could be so cruel. She knew all about it. Lives torn apart by greed. By lust and power. Maybe Offenheim was right. Maybe this was necessary. Maybe the planet needed a restart. She shuddered. No, not like this. Fighting fire with fire left the world a pile of ash, like ReinCorp’s attempt had. She couldn’t accept it as the answer. She had always believed in brilliant minds coming together to solve issues. Not death and destruction. Pain and war.
“Zanzi?” a low voice called out. Legs appeared, slowly walking between the trailers.
“Here,” she answered, recognizing Josie’s voice. She crawled out, pulling Tilly after her.
Twelve
Tomari Nuclear Power Plant
Hokkaido, Japan
Bulbs still flickered on and off. Ryan kept his back pressed against the concrete wall, all his senses on high alert. Sliding along, he strained his eyes to peer into the strobing light. Other than that, it was dark and quiet. Not ideal. Not the conditions he wanted. Not when he had to guess what was waiting for him. The Nameless were successful for a lot of reasons, one being that they planned everything. But the old saying held true: no plan survives first contact with the enemy. Coming here should have been easy. In and out, silent and silky. Disappear into the night while Offenheim’s and Yamada’s soldiers battled it out above.
Someone, or something, had left a trail of destruction. Lights smashed. Doors torn off hinges. Smears of blood leading to Japanese guards who had their heads crushed, brains oozing out onto the floor. Ryan grabbed any spare magazines he could. Cal mirrored his actions on the opposite side of the passageway, with Sam the dog padding silently beside them.
They stopped when the passageway ended in a T-intersection with Sam standing silently next to them.
“Left or right?” Ryan said.
“Left.”
The plan – that word again – had been that Ando and Takeshi would be waiting at the blast doors. The air was heavy with moisture and the stench of cleaning alcohol. Deeper they walked, coming level with a row of blue doors made from thick metal, like those in a maximum-security prison. Ryan slid the viewing panel of the first door across and peered in. Like the other cells, these held captives, victims of experiments. Failed, if he had to speculate. Since they were behind the blast doors, these victims must be more dangerous. This cell contained a man with sharp, bony protrusions covering his back and arms. His eyes were staring but vacant, his skin sallow.
The next cell held a woman, her epidermis flaky like she had bad eczema. She hung upside down from the light fixture, clutching it with elongated toes. She laughed m
aniacally as Ryan and Cal walked past.
Cal whistled softly to get Ryan’s attention. In the next cell, a tall, skinny man smiled at Ryan. He was pale, ivory-colored, and covered in scars. Some small, some long, and others angry and raised. Exactly like the other prisoner, Bruno.
Skinny smiled again. “English?”
“Yes,” Ryan whispered.
“It’s all right, mate. She’s got them trapped down in the back. You’re safe.”
“She?”
“Ebony. The teacher’s bloody pet. The queen herself.” The man tilted his head back and cackled.
“Who’s the queen?”
“You don’t work for him, do you?”
“Not permanently, no.”
“Good. Good.” The man smiled, showing dark-stained teeth. “Name’s Gaz, from what I can remember.” His accent was twangy. Australian.
“I’m Ryan. This is Cal. How long have you been down here?”
“I don’t know mate. Been here so long I’ve lost track of time. I don’t even know what year it is.”
“It’s 2021.”
Gaz’s eyes flared and his mouth dropped open. “You’re bloody pulling my leg, ain’t ya?”
“I’m afraid not. Why?”
Faint screams and shouts filtered down the long corridor, followed by booms and cracks from above. Cal glanced at Gaz but kept her Glock pointed at the doorway. Gaz sat back down on his bed. The cell was grimy but pleasantly furnished. He had a chair, a TV, a writing desk, and a shelf filled with books. A second smaller room was partly partitioned off. The bowl of a toilet peeked around the wall. Nothing like the other cells.
“Sofia. Targets are not at the rendezvous point. Proceeding with caution. Over,” Ryan said, nudging his throat mic. He kept his voice low, not knowing what was down here. What exactly had caused all this damage.
“Copy. Yamada is losing ground fast. Get a move on.”
“Wilco.”
Ryan looked around for a door-release button like in the previous cell block. He spied a board next to a destroyed guard station.
Shadows of Ash (The Nameless Book 2) Page 9
