by Steven Booth
The weird racket had started out quietly at first, just background noise and static, but it caused a pressure deep inside of her brain, sort of like the beginnings of a sinus headache. After that sensation she felt those awful feelings of despair and heard a loud pulse of humanoid voices in her mind. And now, as the Hummer drove along the perimeter of the enclosure, the feeling of being trapped in a morbid cocktail party was overwhelming. Miller wondered if Rat and Alex were experiencing the same sensations. She doubted it. Lovell and the other guards didn’t notice a thing, of course. They hadn’t been juiced up.
Miller turned to Rat and Alex. She carefully studied their expressions. Rat looked professional, as always, laid back and ready to carry out her orders. Alex seemed confused and depressed, though if he’d heard the zombie horde, he certainly didn’t show any sign of it. He just obviously wasn’t enjoying being part of this experiment. Miller couldn’t blame him. Alex was a part of the triad for some reason, but Miller could only guess what kind of leverage they were using to force his cooperation. Still, whatever Miller was feeling, Rat and Alex didn’t seem to share the problem. It was clear that neither of them was particularly concerned about being this close to the zombie enclosure. They didn’t hear the lost souls. Was she the only one?
Miller couldn’t take not knowing for sure. The loneliness, coupled with having all these zombies moaning inside her head, became something she could no longer ignore.
“How can you stand it?” Miller said aloud.
“Stand what?” asked Rat.
“Them,” Miller said, waving a hand at the horde of zombies as they drove by. The front row seemed to be made up of the newest and freshest. They could almost recall being human. Miller’s mind told her they were still confused about what had happened, where they were, who they were. They were just disoriented and angry and… hungry.
“What’s to stand, Penny?” Rat said. “They’re dead.”
Lovell said, “We should go make sure of that, in my opinion.”
“Tell me about it,” Rat said. “I’d love to clean up. Rubenstein won’t let me go in there with some napalm and just burn ‘em all down. He says they have scientific value, though what that might be I couldn’t tell you.”
“Alex,” Miller said quietly. “Can’t you hear it?”
Alex snapped out of his own darkness. He looked at her, eyes searching hers, as if he were looking for a hidden message in the question. “Hear what?”
What’s going on? Rat’s voice was there, so loud inside her mind it almost drowned out the sound of the zombies. Show us.
“It’s nothing,” said Miller out loud. Miller could feel Rat’s confusion and concern, but Miller abruptly focused her thoughts on Scratch. To say she was worried about him was an understatement. So she concentrated on that feeling, and not the cacophony of voices and emotions she was feeling at that moment. If this was her little secret, perhaps it was better to keep things that way.
Rat and Lovell exchanged a worried glance, but Miller refused to acknowledge them. She thought of Scratch, only of Scratch. She blocked everything else out of her mind. Rat didn’t seem to find those thoughts worth tracking.
Lovell turned east and drove along just outside the fence. The three of them stared through the wire. The enclosure held hundreds of zombies, more than Miller had ever seen in one place in ages. The mental noise reached a shrill crescendo. The zombie horde wailed and complained and suffered. Miller heard the dread in their souls, and the pitch of their endless despair was deafening inside of her head. One thing had become perfectly clear.
No one else heard them.
Miller struggled to hide and control her own emotions. She found herself on the verge of tears. All that suffering in one place was almost more than she could tolerate. Miller knew she should continue to keep this gift a secret, that it might offer her some advantage down the line, but another part of her wanted comfort from the others. She needed the connection to a living thing, before the touch of death bore her away. She decided to tell Rat and Alex. But before she could say anything, Lovell turned north again, out into the desert. He was now racing toward the Ruby Mountains. The obscene muttering in her mind began to fade away. The tension dropped. Miller felt more relaxed, less panicked. She gained control of herself again. The creeping horror abated. Physical proximity definitely had something to do with it.
Lovell seemed to know exactly where he was going. The Hummer pulled up next to an open field, obviously cleared by the military. Packed down lumps of rocks and debris and dead tumbleweed surrounded the flattened area like opened petals on a dead flower. The field featured a metal and wood observation platform and a long firing stand. As soon as they came to a stop, Rat mentally ordered them out of the vehicle. Lovell remained behind. He made a big show out of planning to take a nap. Rat took over. She led them directly up to the firing stand, motioned Penny to one side, and put Alex in front of a mini-gun mounted to a railing. The sun glinted on gunmetal and lanced Miller’s eyes. She blinked away tears. Her head still hurt.
“Put these on.” Rat handed Miller and Alex each a helmet with a dark visor. Alex looked wan and tired. He put on his helmet. Miller still felt disoriented but she complied without thinking. The helmet would at least protect her eyes from the glare. The horde of zombies was out of sight behind the pile of plants and boulders and dirt. No matter. Despite being several hundred yards away, she could still feel them if she tried.
“The fuck?”
Miller squinted. Her visor was completely blacked out.
“Hey, what’s the idea?” asked Alex. “I can’t see a damn thing.”
“I know,” said Rat. “That’s the point. Dragan, you’re up first. I’m going to put your hands on the handles of the mini-gun.”
The chattering of the mini-gun was loud in Miller’s ears, but not deafening, thanks to the helmet. It had some kind of soundproofing. Miller waited in darkness. From what she could tell, Alex was using the weapon well. She waited to learn what was going on. Rat would tell her when they were ready. Miller knew she had to just go along with all of this. It was her only chance to save Scratch.
Miller heard Rat order Alex to cease firing. Rat’s voice was louder than the sound of the gun. It still had the effect of disorienting Miller because she heard it directly in her head. She wasn’t used to that. If this is what it was like being an enhanced bioweapon, she hoped her enlistment would be up soon. No one with a soul would enjoy being stitched to other people’s minds in this way. She wanted her privacy back.
Alex stepped away from the mini-gun. Miller heard him stumbling a bit as he walked, boots thudding on wooden planks. Miller listened passively. Even if she’d wanted to help him, she wasn’t certain she could have reached him in time. He already sounded several yards away. Alex apparently kept his balance.
Your turn, Penny.
Miller’s mind was invaded again. Her vision popped on, despite the darkness in the helmet. Her view swung to the right, and she could see herself standing there, perhaps ten feet from the mini-gun. She was now seeing herself through Rat’s mind. Rat stood on the observation platform about thirty feet behind them, and perhaps another ten feet above. The sun beat down on Miller’s shoulders. She needed a drink of water. Reality had been unimaginably distorted, yet she felt in control of herself. Her physical vision was still blocked by the helmet’s visor, which acted like a blindfold. She could see, but only through Rat’s eyes.
Miller held onto the railing of the shooting platform. She guessed at the correct distance, and guided herself to the waiting gun. She groped for the handles on the weapon and finally settled down in front of the stand. She had a brief fantasy. She wondered whether the mini-gun would turn sufficiently, allow her to aim at Rat, take her and Lovell out and end this ridiculous experiment. As soon as the thought crossed her mind, Rat’s voice was back in her head.
Don’t bother, Penny. I’m not that stupid. It would be suicide. Lovell would shoot you down and poor Scratch would pay the rea
l price.
As if to emphasize the point, Rat turned to look at the four, heavily-armed soldiers—the same four from Rubenstein’s office. They were all watching Miller carefully, weapons up, ready to take her out if she didn’t behave. Lovell had left the Hummer after all. He was standing near the guards, but a few feet away, with a cold sneer on his face. If anyone went for the men, he’d take them out. Rat appeared in Miller’s brain again, as if whispering in her ear. See what I mean? Look, Lovell and me, we kind of like you guys. This is nothing personal. Just be a good girl and we can all retire rich, okay?
Miller nodded. I’ll play nice with the other kids, Rat. What do you want me to do?
See those two targets in the distance? Unload on them.
And yes Miller could see, from Rat’s perspective, two cardboard cutouts of a light vehicle—something like a Hummer only beefier—and one small tank. Alex had already shot them up a bit. Miller calculated the angles between where Rat stood and where she was in Rat’s view, decided on a shooting solution, and opened up with a short burst of rounds.
Bring it a little bit to the right, Penny.
What’s the point of this, Rat? I think we’ve proven that we can see what you do. What are we learning from Alex and me shredding some targets? Why do this?
Rubenstein wants you to, that’s why. Now, bring your aim to the right.
Miller went to the right and fired another burst. She was right on the money.
Now back to the left.
There were new targets standing there. They were targets that looked human.
Shoot, Penny.
No. She reached for the straps of the helmet and struggled with the latch.
Penny, your orders are to fire that weapon. Stop screwing around and do it.
Miller managed to get the helmet off. The sudden brightness blinded her momentarily. She looked up at Rat and the soldiers. She saw them again through her physical eyes. She squinted. Lovell wasn’t smiling any more. He had grown tense.
“If you don’t put that helmet back on and get back to work,” Rat said, “I’m radioing Rubenstein and tell him to turn the screws on Scratch.”
“Goddamn it, Rat. You too, Lovell. Scratch is a friend of yours. How can you just turn off your humanity for a damn paycheck?”
“That’s my business and not your problem. Follow orders or else.”
Inside her head, Miller thought as loudly as she could to Rat. I learned something a long time ago, Rat. The only correct response to an ultimatum is to say, “Fuck you!”
Don’t do it.
“Rat, I’m going to beat you like you owe me money.”
Miller swung the helmet as hard as she could. It sailed directly at Rat.
No one was there. The helmet kept flying.
Rat was already off the observation platform and standing next to Miller before the helmet reached a startled Lovell, who flinched and dropped his weapon as the floating helmet struck his forehead with enough force to shatter his skull. Lovell staggered away and dropped to his knees. He fell over with his face crushed and bleeding. One leg twitched. The other soldiers hadn’t yet had time to react. They were still standing frozen on the wooden platform. Miller hadn’t intended to kill anyone. It had just worked out that way.
Now that was fucking stupid, Lovell wasn’t your enemy.
Rat had drawn her side arm. She pointed it at Miller’s head.
I was aiming for you, Miller thought. You would have survived. Hitting Lovell was an accident, just like the rest of this whole damned mess.
Rat hesitated a second, then squeezed the trigger. Miller deflected Rat’s arm just as the pistol went off. Taking Rat by the wrist, she twisted hard, hoping the bone would break under her super strength. It didn’t.
Frustrated, Rat swung at Miller, threw a wicked left hook. Miller ducked just in time. She swept her foot to knock Rat off her feet. Rat went down, hard. The soldiers were finally coming out of their trance. They ran down the ramp intending to separate the women. They seemed ridiculously slow and clumsy in the desert heat. Miller started to kick Rat in the kidney. She was too late.
Rat was back up in a heartbeat. The soldiers were coming.
“Shoot her,” Rat ordered. Miller sensed reluctance in her voice.
One soldier was staring down at Lovell’s corpse, looking a bit sickened. He said, “But we might hit you, ma’am.”
Before she could say something else, Miller grabbed Rat by the lapels of her uniform. She head butted Rat in the face then backed off. Rat grunted, but she didn’t cry out or stop to inspect the damage. She just launched a roundhouse kick at Miller’s head. It grazed her face as she shifted away. The soldiers looked both confused and fascinated as the women danced around each other. Rat kicked again, wicked strong and blindingly fast. The sun beat down.
Miller ducked, but just barely. Damn, Rat was quick. They separated for a moment. Rat waved at the soldiers as if changing her mind. They didn’t seem to be following the action well. It occurred to Miller that the two of them were so accelerated that the soldiers may have only seen crisp blurs of motion. They were likely having trouble distinguishing between the two women as they fought. She tried to think of how to use that fact to her advantage.
I’m going to kick your ass, once and for all, Rat thought.
I’m right here, Miller replied. Hit me with your best shot.
They grappled for a long second. Then Rat caught Miller by the wrist and flipped her onto her back, right at Alex’s feet. Alex was looking down at them, confused and unwilling to take sides. Rat went to kick Miller in the face. Miller grabbed Rat’s boot and twisted it, tossing her away. Rat hit hard but rolled and got back up. Her nose was bleeding.
Miller was standing an instant later.
Someone fired a tentative shot. It clipped the railing next to Miller’s hand. Miller caught fresh movement out of the corner of her eye. It was Alex. He was finally getting into the game. He was on her side. He went for the soldiers.
Miller threw a series of haymakers at Rat, who expertly blocked each one. Then Rat jabbed at Miller’s head, catching her in the chin with a wicked blow. Bright lights flickered and the summer day grew cold for a second.
“Stop,” Alex called.
Miller was knocked backwards. She checked her jaw, which was miraculously intact. She rolled away, and a bullet missed her leg. Rat was already standing and waiting to resume their match. Two more shots were fired, and splintered the wood near Miller’s feet. The firing stopped. When Miller looked up at the solders, only one was standing, and he had his hands in the air. Alex had taken down the others. Miller waved and smiled.
Then Miller saw that Rat was looking up as well. She took advantage of the moment and launched herself at Rat. She hit Rat and tackled her down to the ground. Then Miller punched Rat in the throat.
Rat caught her hand, held it and twisted. Miller resisted.
You’re going to have to do better than that.
All right, I will. Miller brought her knee up into Rat’s groin. She did it three times, with everything she had, then kneed her in the thigh muscle. Rat grunted, but still didn’t let go of Miller’s hand. Miller twisted her body around in an attempt it to free it, but no matter what she did, Rat held on.
A series of shots went off on the observation platform. This time the bullets struck next to Rat’s head. She flinched and jerked away. Miller used that distraction to punch her opponent in the face, stunning Rat, who let go of her hand. The shots stopped at that point and Miller was glad. She liked Rat. Rat had saved her life more than once. But Miller also knew that if she didn’t finish this now, she would have a pissed-off enemy to contend with forever, one who up until then had been winning the dispute pretty handily. So she punched Rat in the face. She slammed her head into the wood. She slammed it down again, and again, and again. She didn’t want to do it, but she did.
Rat went limp, with her pretty face bloody but otherwise intact. Miller looked down at Rat, her hand poised for another
punch, but the woman had had enough. Rat was out cold. Thankfully, murder was not necessary. Miller coughed. Her chest hurt. She stood up and leaned on the railing for support. She felt incredibly thirsty and hot and was panting for air. She caught movement out of the corner of her eye and flinched.
Suddenly Alex was standing next to her, with a rifle in his hand. She looked up at him, and realized that without Rat, the telepathic link between the three of them was broken. They were no longer a triad. Miller was relieved. That whole telepathy thing was really starting to piss her off.
“We don’t have much time,” Miller said. “One of them must have radioed in.”
Alex shrugged. “They didn’t. It all happened too fast. They were standing there looking at Lovell and trying to figure out what was going on. If they had radioed for help, we would have heard it. I would have, anyway. But it won’t take them long to come looking.”
“No. It won’t.”
“Okay, Sheriff, so what now?”
“I say we go back, rescue Scratch and see if we can put an end to this project.”
“I’m in, but how do you propose we accomplish that? I don’t care how fast and strong we are now. There’s still only the two of us.”
And Miller said, “I have an idea.”
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
THE ZOMBIE CORRAL
Unhhh hunhh hunhh…
An old woman in a torn hospital gown stared dully back at Alex through the thick, patterned wire. One of her eyes was gone and the other looked dead as last week’s oyster. Her white hair was all bunched down like flattened cotton and her two front teeth were missing. She tried to bite Alex anyway. He stepped back from reflex and then giggled like a schoolboy at his own panic. He was not doing so well. This close to the horde, the poor guy seemed inches from madness at times, and Miller didn’t blame him one damned bit. At least he didn’t seem to have Talk Radio K-ZOM in his brain. For her part, Miller was being tortured. It was full-on chaos. Despite her best efforts to turn them off the eerie voices in her mind kept right on shrieking and babbling. She stared straight ahead. The corral was full of rotting bodies and the stench was overwhelming.
