Boston Under Siege (Book 1): Virus:

by Willson, Fisher

  “Great. Whatever. That's cool. The pizza needs a minute to rest if you want to go check on them. I’m going to grab a smoke,” Dewey said flatly as he crossed to the sliding glass door out to the patio.

  “You go,” Ami pointed at the patio, then tilted her head toward the stairs. “I’ll go.”

  * * *

  Dewey was closing the sliding glass door when Trips asked to join him. He shrugged and left the slider open then dropped his pack of cigarettes on the table and lit a smoke. He sat back in one of the wrought iron chairs and pointed at the pack. “Help yourself.”

  “Yeah, no, thanks.” Trips grinned placing two pints on the wrought iron table. “I'm from coal country. We get our lung cancer the way God intended.” He leaned against the spongy split rail fence and sipped his beer; Dewey sipped his smoke. “You okay, Dewmeister?”

  “Yeah. I don't know. Just tired. It’s the middle of the fucking night, you know?” Dewey took a long haul on his cigarette and leaned back.

  “Yeah.” Trips grimaced uncomfortably, stroking the back of his neck. “I’m sorry, cause it’s my fault. I —”

  “Don’t worry about it. It’s not you.” Dewey clomped a foot on the lower rail of the fence.

  They listened to the crickets and the swish of trucks heading up route 2 far in the distance. It was peaceful. Trips wanted to forget about zombies and vampires, about the break-in, and that he might have contracted a deadly virus. He swallowed a gulp of his beer, pushing down the worry.

  “I couldn’t sleep anyway.” Dewey glanced at Trips.

  “Yeah, I can imagine,” Trips nodded. He knew that Dewey’s family had left him. Alone, with a huge house, regardless of the virus killing Boston, he had to keep going into town to keep body and soul alive until his ex-wife and he settled. “So, she took the kids?”

  “Hell no. We're still in arbitration,” Dewey scoffed. “But yeah, for now they’re in Seattle.”

  Trips nodded and watched Dewey exhale a long stream of smoke. “I thought you quit.”

  Dewey shot him a glance that communicated the full force of his anger. “I didn't quit. She quit me, man.”

  Trips swallowed hard and blinked. “I meant cigarettes, Dew.”

  “Yeah, well,” Dewey held up his smoke, “I'm baack,” he said in a sing-song. “Don't have kids, man. That's all I can say. Don't have kids. It changes everything.”

  Trips shifted and pulled on his hair. “Yeah, well, I don't think Ami wants to, and I, well it's expected, of course,” he shrugged, “but when I thought she might be and then she wasn't... Phew, I was so relieved, I can't tell you.”

  Dewey exhaled, as Trips nodded, gazing out at the yard.

  Trips took a gulp of beer screwing up his courage. He gave Dewey a sidelong glance. “Seems to me, what we got to do is get you laid, but just maybe, leave Ichiro's girl alone.”

  Dewey cocked an eyebrow, sizing him up. “That's funny, coming from you.”

  Trips swallowed hard, and tried to laugh. It was not a barb he expected from Dewey. The reminder that he himself had swooped in on his roommate’s ex-girlfriend as soon as he thought it was decent. It had just about killed him watching Ami and Ichiro together. Now that Alexx was in the picture, everything was working out, and the last thing Trips wanted was for something to mess it up.

  Dewey stood up. He nodded and flicked his cigarette into the cement urn full of water and dead butts. “Point taken. When you're right, you're right.”

  Trips exhaled. “What?”

  “You’re right. C’mon let’s go eat.” Dewey opened the sliding glass door and ushered Trips inside.

  * * *

  After supper, Ami followed Trips up the cold dark stairs into his tiny bedroom over the kitchen. She noticed it was slightly warmer in the bedroom, but it was still a drafty old house. She shivered as they peeled out of their armor and hopped into the short double bed. Trips turned off the electric Colonial style oil lamp and turned to her. “You’ll love the bathroom up here.”

  Ami shivered under the cold sheets. “The one downstairs is pretty swank.”

  “There's a giant tub up here, with a view of the pond,” Trips said, nuzzling her ear.

  “There’s a pond?” Ami asked, enjoying the warmth of his skin against hers. “That will be nice if there’s enough hot water. It’s freezing in this house.”

  “Yeah, he plans on adding all sorts of – well he did. Might need to sell now.”

  “Mm. So, the separation isn’t temporary? She’s left him for good?”

  “Yeah, I guess, but I told him to stay away from Alexx.”

  “Think he will?”

  “Yeah. Sure, he will. Oh, jeez, I’ve got to call my dad. Keep reminding me, please. I’ve got to get in touch with him.”

  Ami sighed.

  “What?”

  Ami darted a glance at him. Her eyes were large and liquid. “Trips, please don't go tomorrow. If you go in, they'll arrest you.”

  Trips rolled over onto his back crooking his elbows on the pillow. “A wee bit loaded, don't you think?”

  Ami rolled into him and put her head on his chest. “Trips. Don't be pissed. I just...”

  He sighed and stroked her hair. “Let's get some shut-eye. I’ll find a way out of this mess once I call my father.”

  Chapter 11: We Have Them

  The marine sergeant lifted the telephone receiver of Special Operations Command in Boston and dialed a number. After a moment, he pressed a code on the keypad and listened, then punched the red button. He held out the phone to Colonel Dan Campbell. “They found something, sir.”

  “Well, what is it, Sergeant? Briefly, before I get on the line.” Colonel Dan Campbell barked. It was five in the morning. He'd been waiting for information for nearly an hour, and he was cold.

  “They know who broke into Black Hall Labs, and they escaped with some valuable intel, sir,” The sergeant handed the receiver to the colonel.

  Campbell rubbed his hands together and paced, listening to the report. Civilian jeans, golf shirt, boat shoes and a wool-lined windbreaker that his wife had insisted he pack were not cutting it for autumn in Boston. He'd have to remember to thank her for the jacket. He blew warm breath into his hands. It was almost sunrise; hopefully, it would warm up soon. He nodded and spoke into the receiver just as a clerk arrived.

  The clerk placed a manila folder and an iPad on the desk and saluted. “Your eyes only, sir.”

  Campbell hung up the phone and dismissed the men with a nod. The messenger and the sergeant cleared the room as Campbell read through the report. The new material he’d study in the car on the way there. He shuffled the materials into his briefcase and exited the conference room.

  The sergeant led the colonel through the tent maze of Government Center to an unmarked SUV. As the colonel slipped into the back of the car, he smiled, “Turn up the heat please. The damn damp gets in your bones.”

  The car passed the checkpoints through Boston and Cambridge without stopping as Campbell watched the sunrise over the Charles River. It’s a pretty little town, but cleaning it up is going to be a nightmare.

  He opened his briefcase and studied the map on the iPad. The most dangerous parts of the city were congested cobblestone paths with buildings that weren’t up to code. We’ll have to be careful sending men into blind alleys and through narrow, steep, and unregulated channels, not to mention the steam tunnels, subway, and waterworks under the city.

  It’s a dark labyrinth of wet connecting conduits where the creatures gather, yes, sir, it’s a damned mess. Intelligence coming through spoke of clubs where the enemies made more of their kind. He stared out the window at the sunrise. He hoped he was right about the bike messengers. The break-in at Black Hall is the least of my worries.

  Campbell exited the car outside Black Hall, into the chill of early morning mist. A security chief escorted him past clusters of people in Tyvek suits on the lawn into the building through a translucent snaking tunnel. Everything was white on white. Administ
rative Dean, Katelyn Weiland greeted Colonel Dan Campbell at the mouth of the vaulted laboratory building. She was dressed in a camel hair trench coat that Campbell envied. “You look warm.”

  She smiled. “I hope this didn't disturb your sleep, too much.”

  “Sleep is a luxury I can't afford, Dr. Weiland,” Campbell said as they shook hands. “So I understand that they've identified the culprits as your lab staff? Specifically, those two postdoctoral researchers I met the other day?”

  “Yes, Amelia Alpert and Alexandra Spiros.” Katelyn nodded as they moved into an unoccupied conference room. The lights flickered as the room turned on automatically. “Seems they were in the process of analyzing tissue samples which have been identified as someone of our mutual acquaintance.” She handed the colonel a sheaf of papers.

  “I see,” he said, glancing at it. “May I keep this?” he asked as a formality.

  “Of course,” Katelyn said. “You’ll inform his father?”

  “They're still analyzing the data? Correct?”

  “Yes, and he's off the charts.”

  “I'm going to wait for a full report before I say anything to the Senator. He's not in any danger, right?”

  Katelyn nodded. “As I understand it, and that holds for our researchers Ami Alpert and Alexx Spyros, as well. The other staff members did not fare as well, however.”

  “They died from infection.” He looked up from the report. “My understanding is your husband was running the lab at the time.”

  “Ex-husband, but, yes,” she nodded, “that’s true, and we’ve linked his advanced research project for the defense department with residue found in this facility.” Dr. Weiland sighed, “You know, it looked promising at first.”

  “I’ve read about his work - brilliant. A serum that could create a super solider for hours at a time.”

  “Yes. I know it looks bad, but he’s a good man.” Her eyes glistened as she blinked. “He just became obsessed.”

  “I understand. We’ll have tabs on everything soon,” Campbell checked his watch, “Kentigern is supposed to report in at oh-eight-hundred. So, we wait.” He smiled. “Maybe we'll call his father together.”

  “Thanks for coming yourself.”

  “Of course, glad to.”

  “There is one other issue.” Katelyn sighed. “What do we do about the stolen data? I don't want any more of a scandal than I already have.”

  “I'll make sure we look into it quietly. Did they identify the other man?” Katelyn shook her head. The colonel nodded. “Dr. Weiland, get some shuteye and check in with me later. Let us take it from here.”

  Chapter 12: Morning In Lexington

  Ami didn’t remember she was at Dewey’s house in Lexington until she reached across the bed and found Trips wasn’t there. Morning had arrived too soon. She bolted to her feet, her heart thumping. Seeing the red Kevlar and messenger bag on the floor, she sighed. He hasn't left yet; there’s still time to convince him not to go.

  She ripped the Velcro open on the messenger bag seeking a wad of soft material inside. He always has an extra tee. “Calm down, it’s okay, girl.”

  The gray tee she found in Trips’ bag sported a picture of Snoopy and Woodstock on a chopper. The words ‘Chicks Ride Free’ emblazoned on the top in sixties script, and ‘Myrtle Beach SC’ on the bottom. It was just big enough to cover everything. “Or at least he won’t leave without this fabulous tee-shirt.”

  Ami slipped her cold toes into her boots, and headed toward the bathroom. She felt better hearing cartoons and inhaling the scent of freshly brewed coffee in the hallway. “Morning,” she called down over the banister. She got no response, but she knew that ‘wascally wabbit’ and a few cups of java would keep Trips busy for a while, so she allowed herself to swoon over the opulent bathroom.

  It was warm in the bathroom and the tub was a spectacular double-slipper claw foot with centered faucets; an irresistible soaking tub big enough for two people, with a view of the pond in the back yard. Ami slipped off her boots and marveled at the warm tile.

  She filled the tub, found a basket of tub toys and Mr. Bubble under the sink and added just enough soap to make a skim of soft bubbles over the surface of the water. She pulled off Trips’ shirt and set it on the counter and then slipped into the delicious hot bath. Closing her eyes, she let the hot water unwind all her tensed muscles, relaxing for the first time in ages.

  She was almost asleep when she heard a soft rap on the door. “Ami? You in there?” Trips asked.

  “Come in,” Ami said, flipping around in the warm silky water.

  “Well, aren't you the happy little seal?” Trips said, swooping in for a morning kiss.

  “Mm, you taste like coffee.” Ami giggled as she flicked him with water and rearranged the tub toys. The blue boat was lopsided and kept sinking. Trips wiggled out of his clothes and placed one hand on either side of the tub, hoisting himself up with his toes on the rim. Showing off, in a feat of strength, he began doing push-ups. Ami splashed and teased him. “Focus...focus...”

  He laughed. “Losing Kung-Fu grip. Splashdown eminent.” He fell into the water gently. “Isn’t this freaking fantastic?”

  Ami nodded. “Was that a GI Joe reference I just caught?”

  “Yeah, well you know. The Army calling.” He grabbed the soap from Ami and lathered her up.

  Eventually, she slipped on top of him and soon after he let out a loud groan, lolling his head back on the rim of the tub. Ami admonished, “Shh, you'll wake everybody.”

  “Oh, you are so...Mm,” he groaned and smiled closing his eyes. They kissed sleepily, until Trips held up his calloused hands, and kissed her nose. “I'm pruning up. What we need is more coffee.”

  Ami watched Trips dry off, her stomach in knots. You are just too good looking, blondie. Your dreadlocks look spongy. She smiled. “Your hair is funny.”

  “Yeah,” he said, tugging a lock, “like wool socks.” He slid into his jeans. “Back in a jiff.”

  Ami dried-off, used her finger to brush her teeth, and dressed in the Snoopy tee. “You’re okay,” she told herself in the mirror, “It’s like a dress.”

  She headed downstairs and heard voices coming from the formal living room; as she got closer, the chill had her tugging down on the tee-shirt. It was like being outdoors. It was freezing.

  Trips ice-blue eyes widened spotting Ami descending the staircase. “Oi! Dewey, can I borrow your robe. Right now!” Dewey began to turn around, and Trips wagged a finger. “Do not turn around.”

  Dewey glanced at Ami over his shoulder as he shrugged out of his robe. He smiled. “I'm not looking.”

  Trips enfolded Ami in the warm flannel. “Jeesh, Ami, you can see everything,” He turned back toward Dewey. “Thanks.”

  Dewey turned around. He was dressed for the conditions, wearing an olive commando sweater and a pair of gray sweatpants. “Morning. Let's go back where it's warm, well, warmer, anyway.” He laughed and led the way into the kitchen.

  Ami noticed Trips had borrowed Dewey's off-white fisherman's sweater, and it was tucked into his cargo shorts. He was dressed for the conditions, too. She shivered and wrapped the robe around herself as she followed them into the kitchen.

  “Seriously, I could totally help you,” Trips said, pouring coffee. “Milk, sweetie?”

  Ami nodded, sitting down at the bar. “Yes, please. It feels like such a luxury these days, thank you.”

  Trips placed a fresh cup of coffee on the curve of the heartwood and perched his leg on her stool. She leaned back into his warm chest, feeling to the reverberation of his voice. “We could plan it over the winter and knock it out in the spring. But I think you're right; first thing is to winterize the barn for the beer, and as a practice space, it would be sweet! Trips took a sip of coffee, running his fingers down Ami's arm. “Dewey, we could pay you rent! Ichiro will come around. We could do a video out there! It'd be awesome!”

  “Mm,” Dewey said, picking up his cigarettes and heading toward the patio
. “I think you've had a bit too much coffee.”

  “He'll come 'round,” Trips said, his leg bouncing at a ferocious rate.

  “There's cereal, eggs, help yourselves.” Dewey stepped outside to smoke.

  “Hi,” Ami said, twisting around nuzzling Trips' neck.

  “Hey. What do you think about living out here?” Trips asked, taking a sip of coffee. “I mean it's nice. The tub, you love the tub.”

  “I've got my own tub. Thank you very much.” Ami slipped off her stool and crossed the kitchen to the fridge.

  “Well, but... We'd be in this charming place, outside the city. No zombies, and we'd be helping him out.”

  “What's gotten into you? Hippy!” Ami arched an eyebrow at him. “You're just a little speed demon, aren't you? You ever think anything through?”

  “I think fast,” he said, a crooked smile forming. “Bet you're a tenant-at-will.”

  “Stop it. I like Cambridge, 'cept when it's full of zombies.” She unhooked the frying pan from its hanger and put it on the stove. “Trips, seriously, we need to talk about the break-in. Maybe I should call —”

  The slider opened. “Want to use the fixie?” Dewey asked, poking his head through the door.

  “Yeah, that'd be awesome, Dewmeister,” Trips said running over, his hands shoved into the pockets of his cargo shorts. He stepped out onto the freezing slate patio in bare feet and slid the door closed behind him. Ami dropped a lump of bacon into the pan with a loud sizzle. Trips needs to say no to the Colonel. Being a zombie roustabout and looking for vampire lairs seems very dangerous.

  Dewey doesn’t want us out here. As lovely as it is, it feels isolating, even with the aromas of bacon and coffee warming the kitchen.

  I’ll call the Dean when I got home and figure it out from there. Getting help from Trips on this is hopeless. The patio door opened, breaking Ami from her thoughts.

  “Hey, sweetie. That smells awesome!” Trips exhaled a white plume of breath as he ambled over to where she stood at the stove. Ami hovered over slices of bacon in the frying pan.

  Dewey exhaled his cigarette outside and poked his head through the slider, smiling. “Smells like bacon.”