by Steven Booth
Right at that moment, the door opened halfway. Dr. Rubenstein poked his head inside. They stopped talking. Rubenstein took in the scene, expressionless. He looked around, nodded and then closed the door again without actually entering. Miller noticed that everyone tensed up after that, especially Sheppard, who shot the technician named Marquez a nasty look before turning back to Miller to resume their conversation.
“No, of course not,” said Sheppard. Miller couldn’t remember what she’d asked him. “Don’t worry about anything.”
Miller stared.
Sheppard came forward and smiled warmly. “I think visiting hours are over. Shall we go back up to your quarters?”
“Karl, what just happened?”
“Let’s discuss things outside, shall we?” Sheppard ushered her through the door and out into the cool hallway. The technicians remained in the room.
When they were outside in the hall, Sheppard again walked ahead of her. Everything seemed to ripple under the harsh fluorescent lighting. His shoes squeaked on the flooring tiles. Sheppard led Miller back to the elevators. Out of the corner of her eye, Miller caught a glimpse of Rubenstein going back into the observation room. She wondered why, but waited for Sheppard to feel safe enough to speak. They stood side by side. Faint classical music floated by, which seemed out of place. Miller watched Sheppard as he punched the button to summon the elevator. Sheppard was hiding something. He refused to catch her eye. The elevator arrived. The doors slid open. Miller lost patience.
“What just happened, Karl?”
Sheppard raised a finger to his lips. He waited until they were in the elevator with the doors closed, and then turned to face Miller. His eyes were dancing and his cheeks were red with excitement. He looked like her old friend again.
“Penny, I couldn’t discuss this in front of the technicians. The fact of the matter is, you are not cleared to know any of this. I’ve taken one hell of a risk just by bringing you here, but there are a couple of things you should know.”
“Go on.”
“Remember that blood sample we took? That one, along with a few others collected by Rubenstein just came back from the lab and the results are…” His voice tapered off as he searched for the perfect words.
The elevator rose slowly. Blood pounded in Miller’s ears. “The results are what?”
Sheppard whispered. “Astonishing. We think we have finally figured out how you managed to survive all this time without being killed by the zombie virus.”
“And that’s good, right? You can make your vaccine now, is that what you’re saying?”
“I hope so. It’s complicated and very hard to explain. Let me just say, there are reasons we should keep this just between us for now. Please trust me on that.”
The elevator doors opened. Miller walked out. Sheppard stayed inside.
“Go back to your quarters, Penny. I’ve got things under control.”
“Karl, tell me what’s going on.”
“Penny, I think it is very exciting news. But please don’t talk to anyone else about any of this until I say it’s okay. I’ll explain more later.”
Before she could respond, the elevator door closed and Sheppard was gone.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
CRYSTAL PALACE, BASE GROUNDS
“What the flying donut fuck do you mean, they’re still people?”
Miller avoided Scratch’s eyes. She whispered back. “Keep your voice down.”
“That’s bullshit, Penny.”
“Scratch, that’s what Sheppard said the tests show, and after what I felt up there I actually believe him.” As they strolled around the grounds of the base located outside their quarters, Miller wondered how sensitive the listening devices were. The ones Sheppard and his friends had no doubt set up to catch this very conversation or something like it. She led Scratch closer to a brick wall, hoping to better cover their tracks. She looked out through the giant metal gates facing the desert. In the distance, two sparrows soared above them in a silent mating dance. Someone called out orders to someone else. She looked back. Scratch had gone pale.
“You mean it is like they know they’re dead now, who they were before and what’s happening to them, but they can’t do anything about it? Holy damned Gandhi on a Moped! Can you imagine what that must be like?”
“Believe me, Scratch, I’ve been spending the last few hours trying not to imagine it, but I can’t get the horror out of my head.”
“Shit fire! Well, if I ever had any doubts about shooting those poor motherfuckers in the head before, I surely don’t anymore. That’s got to be the kindest thing you can do for them. It’s just pitiful. Well, apart from the other fact that, you know, they’re constantly trying to consume your living flesh and shit.”
Miller nodded. She sped up a bit. “There’s that.”
Miller decided to come completely clean. She stood in front of Scratch, causing them both to a halt. Scratch stopped few inches away from her. “There’s more.” She dropped her voice even lower. She touched his arm for emphasis. “And it’s just as important.”
Scratch sighed. “Why do I get the feeling that I’m not going to like this?”
Miller looked around. A guard on duty to the south was looking their way, but that didn’t have to mean anything. Outside, well beyond the huge hangar doors, the sky was sunny and warm, and wisps of clouds floated by in the breeze. She wanted to be back in the desert again, driving ninety miles an hour away from this cursed place. Still wary of listeners, Miller hugged Scratch, pretending to embrace him, and whispered directly in his ear. “Scratch, I’m pretty well convinced that this whole shebang, this whacky as a cow on loco weed medical operation, which has got to be costing Uncle Sam a billion dollars a year to maintain, isn’t actually looking for a cure for the common danged cold, let alone the zombie virus.”
“Then what the hell are they up to?” Scratch caught on fast. “Oh.”
She nodded against his chest. “Uh huh.”
“Oh no.”
“Oh, yes.” Miller whispered. “The only explanation I can see for this place to exist is that they are still looking for the magic formula. It’s still a Defense project. They want to find a way to make a shitload of those super soldiers.”
“I was right, then. I don’t like that one damn bit.” Scratch bent down and picked up a rock dragged in by military tires, along with scraps of sagebrush and other debris. He squeezed it in his hand like a stress ball. The muscles in his forearm bulged in a sexy kind of way. “Okay, so say it’s all true. What the hell good does that do us?”
“Not one damned bit.” Miller kicked another small rock with the toe of her shoe. It bounced off the cement wall with a dull clack and rolled a few feet. “And that’s still not everything, cowboy. It’s not even the fun part.”
Scratch looked to his right, took aim, and hurled his rock away. It landed harmlessly out in the open, vanishing into the cactus and sand just beyond the big hangar doors of the underground base. He thought for a long moment and then stiffened his shoulders. The old Scratch was back. He turned to face Miller. “Okay, hit me.”
“I think I know why the super soldiers are so fucking important to them. You know how the zombies work in threes now, in triads? Well, they can do it without seeing each other. I saw them doing that. It’s got to be because of some kind of telepathic connection. I think they’re hoping that their super soldiers can eventually do the same thing, communicate that way without the need for a central command. They’d be unstoppable that way, impossible to defend against, always scheming and planning as one unit without breathing a word or sending a signal humans could trace and try to block.”
“We’d all be screwed.”
“Exactly, and that’s the only thing that can explain all this expense.”
“Sonofabitch.” Scratch remembered to whisper, but just barely.
Miller allowed herself a grim smile. “Jesus, Scratch. I tell you all that, and all you can come up with is ‘sonofabitch’?”
“Is it my turn?” he asked.
Miller blinked. “What do you mean, your turn? What could you possibly have to say that can top all of that?”
Scratch leaned into her and whispered in her ear. “I skipped a meal and drank bottled water from the mess. I’m pretty damned certain they’ve been drugging both of us, not just you with the zombie sauce. They give us something that makes us more cooperative.”
Of course.
Miller trembled at the truth. She hadn’t felt right since the very beginning of all this, especially since the rehab center in Malibu. “Makes sense, but are you sure?”
“You’ve seen me shoot, right? You know damned well I got me some steady hands.” He held out his right hand, palm down. It was shaking. “It’s been twitching around something awful. I’m still not myself. I feel scared a lot, and keep second guessing every damn thing. I keep wanting to trust them, let someone else decide. Something is wrong with us, Penny.”
Miller could feel her anger rise. “How long do you figure this has been going on?”
“Since the Serenity Center.”
Miller sagged into him. “Yes.”
“I’m sorry I didn’t say this before. I thought I was just losing my touch. I think they’re putting it in our food. Like I said, I haven’t eaten for a while. I almost feel human again, but man, what I wouldn’t give for a good, old-fashioned burger right about now.”
Someone coughed down a walkway to their rear. Scratch and Miller both looked up and they pulled apart. Scratch said, “We’d best keep on walking around.”
Miller began walking again and Scratch trailed her by a foot or two. “That explains a lot, actually. I haven’t been myself for ages, and I somehow couldn’t believe that you would actually buy into this bullshit like you did.”
“I’m sorry, babe.”
“Are you on board for us getting the fuck out of here?”
“Fuck yeah!” Scratch said, loud enough for even a casual eavesdropper to hear.
“Shh!” Miller raised a finger. “We need a plan. We can’t just grab some guns, steal a truck and blast our way out. Not and expect to get very far. Not this time. This is not like the old days. We don’t know what’s out there, or if they’d just take us out with an RPG and be done with it.”
“Air?”
“Hell, even if we knew how to fly one, I don’t think we would get very far in a chopper. We got to find some another way.”
Scratch laughed like she’d said something hilarious. “What if there was a big-assed diversion?”
Miller smiled back, playing along. “Like what?”
“Like, I don’t buy their cover story, not after what you just said.”
“What do you mean?”
“Those noises we heard, where they said there was cattle pens?”
“Dang.”
“Yeah, so that ain’t cattle over there.” Scratch pointed south across the base. “If I’m not mistaken, Sheppard and his newfound friends have been collecting up used zombies like cereal box tops. That’s what’s milling around, not bovine meals on wheels. They’re kept right next door to where the motor pool used to be.”
“What are you thinking?”
“Just this. What if we were to, you know, liberate them zombies from captivity before we ran for it? If they’re really humans in there, then they are being falsely imprisoned. That ain’t right. We can’t have that, can we, Sheriff? Besides, if I’m hankering for a cheeseburger, after just one day off food, I reckon those zombies could use a little snack.”
They stopped. A jeep drove by. The two women in it were deep in an animated discussion, shouting over the noise of the engine, and didn’t even look up. Miller waited until the noise died down. She made kissy faces at Scratch again, back to the lover act. She patted him on the shoulder.
“So, what do you think, Penny?”
“I think that it’s nice to have you back, Scratch. You always did have a great sense of carnage.” Miller almost chuckled at the simplicity of the idea. Then she stopped and thought about it a bit longer. “A lot of people will die if we do that, Scratch, a lot of people who don’t even know what’s going on around here. I don’t know if I can go along with that.”
“Penny, I love you, but you’ve got a shitty memory.” He held up a finger as he counted. “One: Cannibals. Two: Crazy-assed survivalists. Maybe third time’s the charm. Most of these soldiers you’re so fucking concerned about now don’t seem to give a rat’s ass about humanity beyond their own butt cheeks. Sheriff Miller, I know you want to save the whales, the snowy owls, and the world, but this won’t be the first time you had to choose between them and us.”
Miller thought about all the death, all the misery that the advent of the zombies had wrought. Truth was, even if she had wanted to, she couldn’t have stopped even one percent of what had transpired. She could only handle what dropped in her lap day to day. She still had her duty, and that was to protect her own.
“We’re taking Alex with us, though, right?”
Scratch cleared his throat. He shrugged, his sour face revealing his lack of enthusiasm. “That Alex dude is okay, I guess, but he ain’t family. Not like T.L. and Karl are. Well, used to be. Are you sure you want to risk it?”
“We can’t leave him behind.” Miller made up her mind. “I don’t leave people behind, Scratch. You know that.” For the first time in as long as she could remember, Miller felt like the Sheriff again. She fist bumped her man, and spoke in a normal voice. “So, is it a plan?”
“Is what a plan?” came a woman’s voice, someone just around the corner from their quarters.
Miller and Scratch froze. They locked eyes and shifted apart, looking for balance, reacting instinctively to the threat.
“Who’s there?” Miller said, trying to sound cheerful.
Rat stepped from the shadow of the building. She wore jeans and a tight camo tee shirt. Her hair was tied up in a ponytail. She came forward. Miller checked. Her hands were empty, though she likely had a 9mm tucked into the back of her wide leather belt.
“Is what a plan?” Rat repeated as she closed the distance, jump boots crunching on gravel and dirt. “You two usually have some pretty good plans. Maybe I want to get in on this one.”
“We were chatting,” said Miller. “Just boyfriend and girlfriend stuff.”
“Yes, I figured,” Rat said cheerfully, too enthusiastically. “But what were you chatting about?”
Scratch smiled broadly. “Penny and me were just discussing a threesome with you, Rat. Damn, but I have good ideas!”
Miller considered punching Scratch in the mouth, but he was covering for them both, so she held back. She looked over at Rat and tried to gauge her response. She didn’t seem much amused by Scratch’s remark.
“You wish.” She shook her head. “Besides, I’m here to take you to your appointment.”
Miller frowned. “What appointment?”
“You have one with Rubenstein. He’s waiting for you over in his office.”
“No more meetings,” said Miller. “I’ve had enough for one day.”
Scratch shifted to his right, measuring the distance, physically communicating his intention. Miller locked eyes and silently told him to stand down. She knew a setup when she saw one. She searched the shadows behind the building. Sure enough, Rat hadn’t come alone.
“Gentlemen?” Rat motioned with one hand. Four soldiers, all armed with rifles, stepped forward to bracket them. One of them was Lovell. His face was as impassive as a Greek statue. Not a trace of warmth or concern. He was just earning a paycheck.
“Sorry, guys,” Rat said, “but I’m going to have to insist this time. Shall we go?”
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
CRYSTAL PALACE
They moved through the corridors at a forced march pace. Lovell and Rat kept a close eye on them. Miller and Scratch did not try to speak to each other. It wasn’t necessary. They both just remained alert for any opportunity to escape. Unfortunately, Lovell,
Rat, and the guards didn’t offer one, so they just kept walking down the long corridors, stairwells and in and out of elevators. Eventually they reached the other side of the facility, and Scratch shot Miller a stoic look as it became clear where they were headed. They were going to the big office that overlooked the entire hangar, the one that had first belonged to Colonel Sanchez, the psychopath who’d created the zombie virus. Not for the first time, Miller was glad she had killed him with her own bare hands. It had been one hell of a fight because they’d both been shot up with an early version of the accelerant.
They walked up the staircase to get to the office. Lovell kept them covered while Rat stopped at the door and knocked sharply. No one answered the knock, so the sound was probably just to alert those awaiting their arrival. After a few seconds, Rat opened the door herself and led the way. Miller and Scratch followed, with Lovell guarding them and the other guards bracketing them from behind. Miller could tell that Scratch was fuming inside, though outwardly he just looked bored. When the door closed behind them, Lovell and the other guards remained in the hall.
Alex was there and already seated. Rat silently ushered Penny and Scratch to stand before a large, uncluttered and highly polished wooden desk. Alex looked as frightened as she’d ever seen the ex-Marine. Miller looked around. Rubenstein was there. He stood looking out at the activity in the hangar, ignoring them imperiously, hands clenched behind his back. He had four soldiers flanking him, all at attention and staring straight ahead. Miller thought he looked like a statue of a two-bit Napoleon. Rubenstein turned and took a seat behind the desk. He stared at Miller with ice in his eyes. He cleared his throat but said nothing. Rat stepped away to stand in a corner.
Miller didn’t care for the vibe. Rat had left them standing in front of the desk like two truants sent to the principal’s office. No one offered them a seat. Rubenstein continued to ignore them long after it was socially appropriate to do so. So this is an interrogation, is it? Miller thought. Rubenstein was trying to make them feel insignificant, uncomfortable and defensive. Miller learned the same technique for questioning suspects back in her days as a police officer. Or maybe she was wrong this time. Maybe Rubenstein just needed to suck up enough courage to speak. All things considered, she suspected that it was a little bit of both.
