by M. Van
“I’m in Alabama, Doctor. How am I supposed to reach California in two days? It’s not as if I can hop on a charter flight,” Mags said mockingly, but I could hear the tiny hitch in her voice.
“Oh, I’m sure your friend Agent Marsden will be able to think of something,” Warren said. “I’ll be at the Salinas Sports Complex.”
The line fell silent again, and I realized I was holding my breath. My knuckles had gone white, holding on to the push rings of my chair.
“How do I …” Mags started to say, but fell silent again as if she needed it to build up enough courage to finish the sentence. “How do I know Ash is okay, and what guarantees do I have that you’ll let her go?”
“I assure you, Ms. Vissers, the girl is quite all right, and there is nothing left in her anatomy that can tell me what I don’t already know,” Warren replied. “Yours, on the other hand, is a different story entirely.”
He grinned at that and glanced my way. From the expression on his face, I could tell that he was already thinking of all the things he needed to do to finish his research, and there wasn’t an inch of him that considered what it might cost Mags.
“Prove it,” Mags replied. Her tone had shifted to anger. Warren sighed and gestured to me. I just raised my eyebrows and glared at him.
“Well, talk to your friend,” he said. Holding his gaze, I kept my mouth shut. It occurred to me that this wasn’t one of my brightest ideas, but then what choice did I have? If I could seed doubt in Mags’s mind that maybe I wasn’t all right and maybe even dead, then she might not come.
Mags had to know what Warren was up to. Even without the details, she would have figured out that Warren wanted her to finish his research, because that’s what he did. That’s what he’d always done, and nothing good had ever come from what that man had produced. He had created the Mortem virus in the first place, and to make it worse, he had tinkered with the results until it left the infected aware of what they had become. I couldn’t imagine a worse fate than to roam around the country feasting on the lives of others, unable to stop yourself.
And Warren wouldn’t stop at that. He would take it just that step further where he could control the zombies. We couldn’t let that happen—I couldn’t let that happen.
There was only one way I could think of that might have the slightest effect to prevent that from happening and that was to keep my mouth shut. It was a slim chance, but it was all I had, and so I stayed silent.
Warren frowned at my silence and then cleared his through. “I’m sorry, Ms. Vissers, but it seems your friend is being a bit stubborn,” he said. He snapped his fingers, and Chester looked up from where he hung in his chair.
“Ms. Reed,” Warren said questioningly, “do you not wish to talk to your friend? I’m sure you’ll have lots to say as per usual.”
I slowly shook my head. Warren closed his eyes as if he wanted to tone down the frustration that was obviously building inside him. As he opened them, he pressed a button on the speaker that sat on his desk.
“Do you really think this is going to work?” he said, apparently unable to keep the annoyance out of his voice. His gaze turned to find Chester still sitting in his spot. Warren’s shoulders dropped. “Why me?” he muttered to himself. Then he slammed a fist on the table. “Get your ass over here and make her talk.”
Chester jumped up from his seat and stepped closer. His shocked expression shifted between Warren and me.
“How am I supposed to do that?” he asked uncertainly.
“I do not care,” Warren said with a sigh. “Break her fingers for all I care.”
My eyes widened at his words and with a quick glance at my fingers, I balled them into fists. Nope, not a good idea at all, but I was determined. I wouldn’t give Mags the incentive she needed to get herself captured by this madman.
Chester stepped closer, and I looked up at him with pleading eyes. I had used that expression numerous times, and Mags had even teased me about it. Usually that look gave me what I wanted, but I had no expectations that it would work on Chester.
“What the hell is going on?” Mags called out over the line. Warren bent over the speaker and pressed a button.
“Just one moment please,” he said into the speaker and pressed the button again. He must have been using a mute button that kept Mags from hearing what was going on here.
“Talk to her,” Warren said in a demanding voice.
I shook my head. At that, Chester grabbed the back of my neck and rolled me forward. I hadn’t tested it, but at least I now knew my chair wasn’t tied up, and I could move freely, that is, if I didn’t count the two men forceful enough to keep me rooted to the spot.
Chester rolled me closer to the speaker, and I clamped my jaw shut but couldn’t keep the oomph from exiting my throat as he slammed me against the tabletop. Pain ripped through my head, starting at the freshly sutured cut. Tears sprang into my eyes, and I was gasping for air. God, this was a stupid plan.
Warren grinned and tilted his head to level with mine. He moved the speaker closer to me and pressed the button.
“We should be ready now,” he said into the device.
“Warren, what are you doing?” Mags said.
“Well, I’m only trying to comply with your request,” Warren said in an overfriendly voice. As Warren had his attention directed at the speaker, I tried to push myself up from the table, but Chester’s grip was too firm, and his strength too much for me to counter.
“Ash,” Mags said in a trembling voice. She must have heard my ragged breathing, and I tried to hold my breath, but it didn’t work. I grabbed my push ring and tried to maneuver my chair, but something blocked it. Had to be Chester’s foot.
Warren stepped closer, and my eyes widened as he reached out a hand. It clamped over my head, and I felt the finger on the bandage that covered the sutures on my forehead. I groaned as he pressed it, and pain shot along my scalp; I couldn’t help it.
“Goddammit, Ash, don’t let them hurt you,” Mags said in a voice fused with pleading and anger. “Don’t you hurt her, you fucking bastard.”
Warren seemed to enjoy himself, and he pressed harder. I couldn’t stop the scream that tore from my throat.
I jerked up one side of my chair, tilted it, and then brought it down hard. Luck had it that it landed on Chester’s foot. He cried out, probably more out of instinct than pain, but it did the trick. Chester released his grip, and I pulled at my wheels and bumped the chair into him. Losing his balance, he stepped backward and stumbled. In his fall Chester reached out and grabbed my chair, which wasn’t something I had planned for. Not that any of this had been planned.
I careened over sideways and landed with a crash on the floor. With a groan, I grabbed my head and held it tight as if that would let the pain subside. Somewhere above me I heard Mags’s frantic voice but couldn’t make out the words. Warren replied, sounding calm before the space fell silent.
| 27
Mags
“Ash,” I called out at the sound of a loud crash on the other side of the line.
“Salinas Sports Complex. You have two days,” Warren said, and his voice was followed by a click.
“Warren, you son of a bitch, if you touch her, I swear to God.” My fist struck the table, and I cursed some more.
“What the hell happened?” I shouted at the young man sitting at my side as only static reached me through the speaker. A hand on my upper arm pulled me away from the table and from the young man operating the radio.
“He broke the connection,” Angie said in a soft voice. “C’mon, you’re scaring the kid.” She gestured at the radio operator who gave us a weak smile. Angie led me from the room through the hallway and took me outside.
“Take a breath,” she said as she sat me down on a bench and took a seat next to me.
“What the hell just happened?” I asked, still rattled from the conversation.
“I think Ash was trying to make a point that we shouldn’t come after her,” she
said.
“God, he was hurting her,” I said and my blood ran cold at the thought. “She’s just a kid.” Angie threw her arm around me and squeezed my shoulder.
“Ash is a tough kid, and that last cry wasn’t her,” she said. “So I’d say she’s holding her own.” Angie didn’t sound very convinced, and from the look that I got from her, I’d say she was as worried as I was. I hoped that last cry wouldn’t create any repercussions for Ash. “Warren needs her to get to you, so he’ll keep her safe until he gets what he wants, and till then, we still have a chance to get her back.”
I jumped off the bench and turned to face Angie. “We have to go get her,” I said. I heard the desperation coming from my own voice.
“And we will,” Angie said as she stood. Preston exited the building, his expression grim. Angie and I both turned to face him.
“We might have a problem,” he said, “Eaves is adamant that we travel back to Alaska.”
“But … how,” I started to say. “He just heard what was said in there.” My temper flared, though I knew that there wasn’t much Preston could do about the situation. He raised his hands in an attempt to calm me.
“Listen, we leave in a couple of hours,” he said, “and it’s like an eleven-hour trip to Alaska. From there we can still make it to Salinas in time.”
I shook my head. “No, you don’t understand, I can’t take that chance. Not with Ash,” I said and felt my voice break. Angie placed a hand on my back as if she knew that I needed the support.
“Hey,” Preston said in a soft voice, pulling my gaze to his. “I’m aware of your history, and I think I know what the kid means to you.” His eyes shifted to Angie. “To both of you. And we’ll find a way to get her back.”
“We can’t waste time flying to Alaska,” I said. “This is Ash’s life were talking about, and I’m not going to cut it close.”
“Besides,” Angie added, “we need to come up with a plan that doesn’t include trading Ash for Mags.”
“I don’t care about that,” I said.
“Well, I do,” Angie said in a sharp tone and with a look that made me feel about two inches tall. “Furthermore, Ash will kill me if I let anything happen to you, and I’m not even talking about Mars. So shut up about it.”
I opened my mouth to reply, but then closed it shut as she held my gaze.
“Okay then, first things first,” Preston said. “How are we going to get ourselves to Salinas?”
The doors to the small building swung open, and Colonel Eaves stepped out followed by a small entourage. Among them were Gibs and Tom.
“We just received a call from that Agent Marsden you spoke with earlier,” Gibs said to Preston as he came up to us.
“What did he say?” I asked anxiously. All I knew was that Warren had taken Ash and that Mars had lost his parents. I had no idea what had happened or if Rowdy was even all right. The thought of anything happening to the little guy made my stomach churn.
“He and some of the brass have come up with a plan to stop the spread of the virus and they’ve been working on setting it in motion,” Gibs said.
“What kind of plan?” Preston asked.
“He wouldn’t say,” Tom said. “He’s talking to a General Whitfield about it, but apparently, he needs our cargo and not just the lovely Ms. Vissers over here.”
Tom meant the hard-shelled case that still held a significant amount of serum, but I couldn’t help feel annoyed by his remark, and he flinched a little at the look that I gave him. From the corner of my eye, I could see Angie shake her head at him. It led to Tom clearing his throat and turning his gaze to the ground.
“Well, then we have to go,” I said firmly as I turned to meet Colonel Eaves. The colonel had his back to me and was still in a vivid conversation with one of his men, but at the sound of my voice he tilted his head back and his broad shoulders slumped.
“Isn’t anyone listening to what I’m saying?” he said in a loud voice. “As I just explained to your staff sergeant—who I’m sure has relayed the message—you have orders to return to Alaska, and as long as I do not receive orders that dictate otherwise, they stay that way.”
A couple of airmen who passed us a second earlier froze at the sound Eaves’s thundering voice. I caught their anxious gazes, but I was way past heeding warning signs. I balled my fists and stepped into the man’s personal space. Having a couple of inches in height on a person often gave me the illusion of having the advantage, but that didn’t seem to work at all with the colonel.
| 28
Mags
“I can’t believe Whitfield sold us out like that,” I said, still reeling from my confrontation with Eaves. The airplane’s engines rumbled all around me, and I couldn’t believe I was heading back to Alaska instead of flying to California while Warren had taken Ash.
My body felt wired as if I’d just had an adrenaline fix, and it came accompanied by so many emotions that I didn’t know what to feel or how to act. All I knew, while pacing the aisle between seats, was that I was heading in the wrong direction and I couldn’t do a damn thing about it.
“I don’t think he would do that,” Angie said.
“Oh, come on,” I said. “Gibs said Mars was trying to convince Whitfield, and we’re still flying in the wrong direction.”
“I still can’t believe you’ve gotten Eaves so far as to check the story at all,” Tom muttered. “Did you hold him at gunpoint?”
“Shut up, Tom,” Gibs and Angie said in unison.
“Yeah, and Eaves got a no from Cheyenne,” I said, ignoring the three of them.
“Eaves said he had gotten the no from Cornwell,” Preston said.
“That’s the same thing, isn’t it?” I replied. I was practically yelling now. Angie grabbed my arm in passing and pulled me to a stop. She gave me a look that loosely translated to calm the fuck down. I took a breath and closed my eyes.
“Not necessarily,” Gibs said. The plane hit an air pocket, and I grabbed two seats as I turned to face him. “It’s possible Cornwell kept the request from Whitfield.”
“No way,” Tom piped up as he stood, dropping to a knee in his seat and leaning over the backrest. “Colonels don’t go against generals.”
“This one might,” Gibs said. “It’s not a secret that Cornwell is a big fan of the president.”
“And so he would be inclined to defy orders,” Tom said. “I don’t wanna be the one to break it to ya, but pretty much everyone who joins the military is likely to be a fan of the president.”
A sad smile spread across Gibs’s face as Angie said, “But times have changed.”
“Exactly,” Gibs said, “the virus outbreak caused a chasm between different parts of the government, and it’s been growing wider ever since.”
It had been Colonel Cornwell back at Cheyenne Mountain who had been asked by General Whitfield to explain the then-current situation in the government. I never had an aptitude for politics or, more accurately, had absolutely no interest in it whatsoever. From what I remember of what Cornwell explained, the cause for these tears within the government had something to do with a pharmaceutical company that may or may not have been to blame for the spread of the virus. The fact that a Dr. David Warren had been on this company’s payroll kind of tipped the balance, but that hadn’t kept the president from choosing the side of the multibillion-dollar company.
“I thought the military had opted against the president’s choices,” I said.
Gibs inclined his head before he said, “For the most part.”
“What do you mean, opting against the president?” Tom said appalled. Gibs shot him a look and then shook his head as he let out a deep sigh.
“I know for sure Cornwell is on the president’s side on this,” he continued without answering Tom.
“What makes you so sure?” Angie asked.
“I make it a priority to know these things,” he replied.
Despite the vagueness of his answer, I decided to go with it and asked, “
So you’re saying Cornwell sidestepped Whitfield.”
“I think it’s possible,” he said.
From experience, I knew Cornwell to be, well, basically a jerk. Although I hadn’t pegged him as someone who’d go against his commander, maybe in his mind he wasn’t doing that at all. It could be that from his point of view Whitfield and all the others disagreeing with the president were at fault. It sounded plausible, but that wouldn’t help me. If only I could contact Whitfield directly, he might grant us permission to find Ash and stop Warren once and for all.
I tightened my grip on the backs of the seats on either side of me and squeezed until my fingers started to hurt. There had to be something I could do. Closing my eyes, I lowered my head and clenched my jaw to keep the frustration from rising inside me. Upon opening my eyes, they fell on the holster strapped to my thigh and the gun neatly tucked inside it. My head snapped up, and I caught Angie and the men studying me.
“Mags,” Angie said in an urgent voice as I turned on my heels. By the time I reached the front of the airplane, I had released the gun from the confines of the holster and slammed a fist on the cockpit door. Behind me, I heard muffled voices and a distinct, “Oh shit,” from Tom.
The door opened, and a clean-shaven face with headphones around his neck stuck his head out the opening. His mouth opened to say something, but he clamped it shut after I placed the nozzle of the weapon under his chin.
“I would like to suggest a course correction,” I said.
The young man with the headphones stared at me wide-eyed and the Adam’s apple in his throat bobbed up and down as he swallowed hard.
“Captain,” he said in a squeaky voice. Up close, I had barely heard him. He must have realized, because he cleared his throat and tried again. The captain glanced over his shoulder, and with one glimpse of what was going on, he jumped up and pulled his own weapon. I hadn’t thought of the possibility that a pilot might be carrying a gun, but as he aimed it at my face, I heard Preston step closer as he called for calm.
