Charlotte smiled. Well, a little. One of my sources did communicate some information that, at the time, I couldn’t divulge because it hadn’t been substantiated or corroborated, so today’s news that Doctor Samuel Tate was taken into custody is not surprising to me.
Alright, the anchorwoman said with mock amazement. So, what can we expect from here? Do you have any insight?
Sure, Charlotte replied, lifting her leg to cross it over the other. I think that we should start by focusing on what’s in the test subject use and recovery documents that were obtained by the justice department this morning.
Why’s that?
Well, they were specifically called out in the search warrant, so we can assume they’re the smoking gun in this case. My sources also believe that there may be inconsistencies in these numbers….
Hank pressed the mute button on the remote. “There you go, Charlotte,” he whispered. “Got yourself fifteen minutes of fame.” He eased back into the pillow and tried to adjust his immobilized arm. The pain still had its way with him if he moved wrong. Damned hospital beds were uncomfortable no matter how much he fiddled with them, too.
Hank wasn’t sure how long he lay there looking out the window at another new snowfall moving slowly across the parking lot, but eventually it felt like someone was staring at him. It was Penelope, leaning against the door frame, only her shoulder and head peeking in, a bandaged hand cupping the door frame. Her face was still covered in bruises and stitch-work that would have scared off Frankenstein’s monster, but she was standing. Resilient little thing.
“Is he awake?” Tom asked from the hall.
Penelope nodded slowly.
Tom appeared behind her and smiled as he held an arm out for Penelope to hold so she could hobble into the room. “She didn’t want to wake you up,” Tom said.
“Well, that’s surprisingly considerate.”
“She thinks you’re not sleeping enough and that’s why it’s taking you so long to heal.”
“Of course she does,” Hank glowered. “I told you, Kitty, it’s because I’m old.”
“I was going to wake you anyway,” Tom went on. “We’re out of here. Penny and I are going to head for that rehab clinic Wendy mentioned. She said they’ll be able to give us a roadmap, something more than me just fumbling through it all.”
Hank nodded, looking toward Penelope, who stood at the foot of his bed, holding the railing for support. She didn’t want to come any closer for some reason.
“How’s Wendy holding up?”
“Good. She quit.”
“Yeah, I heard,” Hank said, pointing at the television. “I’d quit, too, if I found out the company I worked for sent mercenaries to kill me.”
Hank couldn’t be sure of the timing of things he’d seen on television. The past few days had been a blur. Two surgeries and a lot of drugs had a tendency to do that to a man. What he did know was that they found Moby and he talked, said it was Frankie who orchestrated the drop, said Frankie was the mysterious Aladdin. Hank wasn’t so sure. He had a lot of reasons to believe it, but Breckenrock still refused to hand over any transcripts of the mission, stating they had no knowledge that the operation had been conducted, and no transcripts. That was too convenient.
“She’ll probably get a book deal,” Tom said.
“Probably.”
Tom nudged the magazines on the counter next to Hank’s bed to get a good look at all the covers. “Need anything else to read?”
“No, but if I do, I still have Sayad’s number.” Hank grinned.
Tom nodded, not looking at Hank. “Sorry. I mean, for all this.” He waved a hand around the room, still not looking at Hank. “I screwed up. I should have….” He took in a deep breath, sighing heavily. “I should have stood up to my father, you know?”
“Hey,” Hank said. “It’s not that easy. My old man….” He shook his head, remembering how much of a hard ass his own father could be, stubborn, set in his ways. They couldn’t talk politics, that’s for sure. They didn’t even like the same football teams.
Tom turned, finally looking Hank in the eye. “I still owe you, now. I owe you a lot.”
“Then you can pay me back by taking care of Kitty.”
Penelope’s head tilted as she raised her one good eye toward Hank.
Tom nodded. “She’s going to have to learn to take care of herself, you know.”
“That’s what I mean. Get her there.”
Penelope hobbled around the edge of the bed, using the bedframe for support to move alongside Hank’s good arm. Tom stepped aside, giving her room. She leaned close and stared into Hank’s eyes for a moment, then whispered in her raspy voice, “Get…well…soooon.”
Fifty-Three
Rebecca stood in the door. Hank noticed her immediately. A tall woman in military fatigues was hard to miss in a hospital. Her arm lay in a sling tight against her chest. She held a travel bag and her hat in the other.
“Is it Tuesday?” Hank asked, blinking at his drowsiness. Damned pain killers had him feeling loopy all the time.
Rebecca nodded, swallowing a lump in her throat.
“Is your mom going with you?”
“God, you make it sound like I’m twelve,” Rebecca breathed, stepping into the room and putting down her bag. She came to his bedside.
Hank smiled. “Look, no offense, but please take her with you.”
A look of mock injury stared down at him. “You don’t like my mother?”
“You’re good at that serious face.”
“I am serious. You don’t like her?”
“Come on,” Hank said, squirming a little under her scrutiny. “It was a joke.”
Rebecca smiled. “You’re right, I am good at it.”
Hank sighed with relief.
She leaned down and kissed his forehead. “Keeps my troops in line,” she whispered.
“I bet it does,” Hank said under his breath, watching her walk around his bed, watching her hips mostly. She was one hell of a shapely woman.
Rebecca dropped her bag and hat on one of the chairs and sat in the other, facing him. “Besides, she’s required to come with me, remember?”
Hank felt dumb. All the drugs made things disjointed. Now he remembered their conversation from days ago, or maybe just yesterday. Damn, he couldn’t square it in his head, but the doctors wouldn’t let Rebecca transfer to another facility without an escort. After her first skin graft, she needed time to heal before they started a second. It meant she had time to get to Brooke Army Medical Center in San Antonio, closer to her home station.
Hank turned off the television.
Rebecca flashed a weak smile. She still looked unsure, worried. He wondered if they had her on any drugs again. “Hank?” She looked him straight in the eye.
“Yeah?”
“I have to leave.”
“Already?”
“No, not this second, but….” She sighed heavily. “I’m leaving. I don’t want to….” Her eyes danced, focus darting from his left to his right eye, searching for words.
“I don’t want you going, either.” Hank swallowed. “It’s going to be boring as hell around here once you’re gone. And besides,” he added, cracking a slight smile. “Everyone else is gone.”
The left side of her mouth curled to a smile that faded a second later.
“As soon as I’m out of here, I’m going to come down to Texas,” Hank said. “Well, first I have to go to Boston. I need to get my life back. Then I’m going straight to Texas.”
Rebecca nodded.
“And you’ve got a phone, now,” Hank went on. “We can talk every day.”
“It’s not the same.”
“Message each other.”
“It’s called texting, Hank.”
“I know.” Hank grinned. He didn’t, really. Somewhere in his drug-addled mind he knew, but what he said was what he thought they called it. Damned technology was ruining everything, this moment included.
Rebecca let
out her breath. She looked down. “Hank?”
“Yeah?”
“I sure like being with you.”
She looked up. Her scrunched nose and short-cropped hair seemed a little more vibrant today. Her skin a little healthier, even where the bruising from her operation crept up her neck. Even her uniform seemed ready for the world.
“I like being with you, too,” Hank said and held out a hand for her. She rose and stepped beside his bed, taking his hand. Her skin was warm, soft. He squeezed it gently. “Maybe one of these days, you and I could go on a date.”
Rebecca laughed. “Deal.”
The End
Dear Reader,
Thank you for reading Plagued: The Angel Rise Zombie Retribution Experiment. I hope that you’ve enjoyed all the books that got us here. At present, there are no plans to continue the Plagued States of America series. Even though there are many things that have gone unanswered, and stories yet to tell, I will be taking a break from this series to pursue a few stand-alone book ideas that have been in the works for a while.
As always, I ask that you take the time to rate this, and other books of mine that you have read, to help others make informed decisions.
Thanks,
Evan
aka Better Hero Army
Plagued_The Angel Rise Zombie Retribution Experiment Page 19
