The Redivivus Trilogy (Book 3): Miasma

by Kirk Withrow

  Garza unslung the sniper rifle and laid it across a metal fan housing for support. He crouched down and peered through scope. When he found the vehicle, he saw two men sitting in the old car—the driver and another man in the front passenger seat. Both were fairly unkempt, with scruffy beards and dirty faces. The passenger wore dark sunglasses and sat motionless as he looked straight ahead. The driver, on the other hand, held a pair of binoculars to his eyes and was panning them along the length of the compound. Garza didn’t know if the man was merely doing reconnaissance or if he was looking for something specific. He had the unsettling feeling that it was the latter. Finally, the man paused his search and kept the binoculars trained on a single point. It wasn’t until the man raised a hand and pointed that Garza got the sense that he was staring directly at him.

  “Shit,” Garza said as he dropped back behind cover.

  Could he have seen me?

  Animal, who was crouched down beside him, asked, “What is it? What did you see?”

  “I’m not sure. There are two men in the car, and the driver is checking the place out with binoculars. I thought he might’ve seen me,” Garza said.

  He slid the rifle out along the side of the fan housing and once again found the car in his scope. The driver was still peering though the binoculars in his direction, though he seemed to have slumped lower in his seat. He was barely visible behind the car’s dash. The passenger, on the other hand, had stepped out of the car and was standing with his hands open and arms outstretched. The rough-looking man didn’t appear to be armed, but Garza had no doubt that he was. His eyes remained unreadable behind his dark sunglasses as he slowly turned his face toward the car. Garza got the sense that he was trying to draw attention to something. Taking the cue, Garza shifted his scope slightly and saw a white plastic bag sitting atop the sedan. After a moment, the man looked back in Garza’s direction before slowly reaching down and lifting the grocery sack with his left hand. He pinched it between his thumb and index finger as though it were something he really didn’t wish to be holding, like a bomb that might explode at any moment.

  From his right, Animal said, “Can’t you just shoot them?”

  The casual way in which she said it made it sound as though she were asking him to hit them with water balloons rather than take their lives. He shrugged off the suggestion, partly because he wanted to know who they were and what they were doing, and partly because something about the situation left a sinking feeling in his gut.

  For a long moment, the grizzly man stood motionless, dangling the mysterious bag with his arms outstretched. The thick veil of exhaust steadily spewing out of the junker swirled around him, making the scene all the more surreal. Finally, the man stepped around the door and moved forward cautiously. His movements were slow and deliberate, as if he knew he was in the crosshairs the entire time. He squatted down and placed the sack on the ground at his feet. Although the man’s eyes were still hidden behind his sunglasses, Garza could feel them locked on him as the man backed toward the idling car. With his hands raised above his head the entire time, he lowered himself into the passenger seat and used his elbow to pull the door closed.

  This guy is trying hard not to give me a reason to shoot. Who the hell is he, and what’s in that bag? Somehow I doubt it’s a housewarming gift…

  No sooner had the passenger door closed than the driver shifted the car into gear and floored the accelerator. The tires spun violently, spitting out rocks and dirt before they finally gained traction. Fishtailing, the car sped off in the direction from which it had come.

  Garza kept the car in the rifle’s scope until it disappeared behind some of the nearby buildings. Soon after, the loud noise of the car’s poorly tuned engine faded into the distance, leaving only an ominous silence that bristled with malice. The whole experience left Garza feeling flummoxed and uneasy. Although it made no sense, he felt as though the man had somehow been taunting him directly.

  “Why didn’t you just shoot them?” Animal asked with annoyance.

  “Rules of engagement. The guy had his hands up the whole time and obviously wasn’t a threat,” Garza responded defensively.

  Animal looked at him with her eyebrows raised in disbelief. “Rules of engagement? Maybe he wasn’t a threat right then, but everyone is a threat now. Besides, I doubt he was here to invite us to his gang’s next bridge club event,” she said.

  Garza’s face was serious as he shook his head. “The moment we cast aside the rules governing basic human decency, we become no different than the guys that attacked us,” he said.

  Without batting an eye, Animal replied, “Are we really that different now?”

  That was something that virtually every survivor had grappled with on many occasions since the collapse of society and civilized rule: when does one go from being the good guy to becoming the thing that one despises? It was an uncomfortable question dredged up by the extreme actions frequently demanded by survival. Rather than answer her, Garza responded with a question of his own.

  “Are you a threat, Animal?”

  Her intense eyes blazed, as her hands rested on the handles of her sheathed brush tools.

  “Does a bear shit in the woods?” she quipped.

  “You absolutely terrify me,” Garza said with a smirk, though he meant every word.

  Animal’s jocular remark provided a welcomed detour from the serious turn their conversation had taken. Garza’s thoughts returned to the two men and the package they’d left behind. He peered through the riflescope, panning it across the landscape until he located the plastic sack. As he steadied the scope, he saw the bag fluttering in the gentle breeze and could almost imagine the sound it made. Although he hadn’t noticed it before, there was a slip of paper attached to the bag. He saw something scrawled on it, but a gust of wind flipped the paper up before he could read it. When the wind died down and the paper settled a few moments later, Garza couldn’t believe his eyes. He felt like someone had punched him in the solar plexus when he read the lone word that looked as though it had been written with a brush using rust-colored paint.

  GARZA

  He blinked and read the word again to be sure that he’d seen it correctly. Only then did he realize that it wasn’t paint at all—it was blood. He must’ve looked like he’d seen a ghost, because Animal put a reassuring hand on his shoulder and asked, “Garza, are you okay? What is it?”

  He could barely hear her words over the thrum of his heartbeat. His vision narrowed, and he wondered if he was about to pass out. He tried to answer her, but his words got lost before they made it to his lips.

  Sensing his distress, Animal tugged on his shoulder until his face came away from the rifle’s cheek rest. His skin was as white as a ghost, making his hollow eyes stand out like a skeleton’s empty eye sockets. He offered no resistance when she took the rifle out of his hands. She peered through the scope and gasped when she saw what had him so spooked. Turning to face him, she asked, “Who were those guys, and how do they know your name?”

  * * *

  “I have to find out what’s in that bag,” Garza said.

  He pointed to the rifle and added, “Do you think you can cover me from up here? You should be able to see those guys if they decide to back.”

  Animal didn’t like the idea of Garza heading out alone, but it made sense for one of them to keep watch in case it turned out to be a trap. Reluctantly, she agreed. Several minutes later, she was staring through the rifle’s optics, watching Garza cautiously approach the plastic bag.

  The car’s engine noise had drawn a few revs to the area, and Garza put them down without issue. He was thankful for the light breeze, which carried away the infected’s stench. The bag fluttered, and this time he was close enough to really hear it. He knew there was something inside, as the bag hadn’t budged since the man had placed it on the ground. Beyond that, Garza had no clue as to its contents. That it bore his name—and that it appeared to have been written in blood—made him more than a lit
tle uneasy.

  Hoping to quell the anxiety caused by the situation, Garza didn’t hesitate to open the bag. The moment he looked inside, however, he regretted letting his curiosity get the best of him. He was immediately assaulted by a noxious odor that caused him to gag violently. His eyes watered, making it difficult to see what was responsible for the pungent stench. Although his first instinct had been to look away, his curiosity reared its head once again, and he took a tentative glance into the sack. This time, the odor hit him even harder, and he was unable to stifle the bile that rose up in his gorge at the sight of the severed head staring back at him.

  Garza leapt back in surprise, nearly tripping over his own feet in the process. He breathed deeply, as though that might somehow lessen the nausea that was rapidly winning the war it was waging on him. Even as he tried to erase the image from his mind, he realized that there had been another piece of paper tacked to its forehead. He knew he had no choice but to retrieve the note. Before he could talk himself out of it, he reached down and grabbed the note. The severed head toppled over as the staple jerked free. He recognized the dead eyes staring up at him and wasn’t able to stifle his nausea any longer. He turned to the side and puked as he tried to wrap his brain around the fact that someone had beheaded Dr. Sodecci.

  Garza breathed deeply as he wiped his mouth on his sleeve. When he recovered, he unfolded the note and began to read. His knees went weak instantly.

  Sgt. Hector Garza,

  I’ve been hoping to find you for quite some time. Since we met in that field outside the abandoned gas station to be exact. You’ll be glad to know that my shoulder has healed nicely. It took over a month, and it still hurts like a son of a bitch on occasion, but I don’t want to bore you with those details. I have something you might be interested in. I believe you know a cute little girl named Ava Wild? I’d like to propose a trade. You, Dr. San, and the LNV cure in exchange for the girl. I realize that sounds lopsided, but children are the future, am I right? My terms are non-negotiable. I was only interested in you at first, but when Dr. Sodecci told me about Dr. San’s work, I realized I thinking too small. Now, I’m sure you’re wondering what will happen if you don’t comply. Simple—we will flatten your place and everyone in it. The last attack was just a warm-up. There is plenty more where that came from. I’ll give you twenty-four hours to discuss this with the others in your group. The details of the trade will be delivered at that time.

  P.S. I’m sure you’re wondering who I am. The name’s Connor, but you can call me the Puppet Master.

  Garza felt lightheaded as his lungs struggled to supply his brain with the oxygen it needed to survive. If the man had asked to trade for him alone, Garza would’ve done it in a heartbeat. Adding Lin into the deal was not an option in his mind, and he wasn’t about to let her hard work fall into the hands of someone so clearly deranged. He tried to think of how he could make this right without endangering Lin and perhaps the fate of the world. His thoughts drifted to the notes he’d found at the camp set up in the hardware store. He got goose bumps when he realized that the camp had likely belonged to the same person that wrote the letter in his hands.

  Garza’s mind raced and his eyes went out of focus as he stared at ominous note. If he was interpreting the note correctly, Connor, or the Puppet Master, was going to provide them with the specific time and location of the trade the following day. Not having that information ahead of time would limit their ability to come up with a plan, which he assumed was Connor’s intention. They would have considerably more options if only Garza could figure out a way to arrange for the exchange to take place on his turf. Sighing, he knew he was getting ahead of himself. Before he could come up with any sort of plan, he had to explain the situation to the others. He grimaced at the thought of having to tell John about his daughter.

  29

  Telling the others about Sodecci, Ava, and the Puppet Master went about as well as Garza had expected. He decided it would be best to tell John about his daughter before informing the rest of the group. Knowing that John and Reams were close friends, he enlisted the big man’s help with breaking the news to John. As it turned out, it was a good thing he did.

  John was understandably livid, and it took everything the two men had to keep him from charging out the door. They tried to reason with him. They reassured him that they would do everything possible to get her back, but he was hearing none of it. A curtain of red had descended over his eyes, and he was like a trapped animal forced into fight mode. All traces of rational thought vanished the instant he learned that someone calling himself the Puppet Master had kidnapped his daughter.

  John nearly got past them after slipping Reams’s grasp and blasting Garza with a slashing elbow. Blood poured from the half-inch gash just above Garza’s right eyebrow, but he kept his cool. He reminded himself that it wasn’t John who’d hit him—not really. He doubted that John would have much recollection of the well-placed blow. It had been thrown by a savage version of John that was running on emotional autopilot after being told his daughter’s life was hanging in the balance. The thought of that hurt far worse than his head.

  “JOHN! Be cool!” Reams bellowed as he wrapped him in a bear hug so tight that John had little chance of escaping.

  When Garza came to assist Reams, he was careful not to stand directly in front of the restrained man. He’d managed to slow the bleeding considerably by holding pressure on the cut, but his face was already a bloody mess.

  “We’ll get her back, John. Please, calm down so that we can come up with a plan,” Garza pleaded.

  John’s wild eyes regained some of their focus as his ragged breathing, which hissed loudly between his clenched teeth, slowed ever so slightly. Whether because he was getting tired or because his senses were finally returning to him, John’s struggles lessened considerably. With one final burst of energy, he shrugged the two men off.

  “Let me go! I’m fine,” he said.

  John paced to the opposite side of the room, where he stood fuming for a long moment. When he returned, he fixed the two men with the determined, intelligent eyes they’d come to expect from him.

  “How are we going to get Ava back, and how are we going to kill that bastard?”

  * * *

  With the exception of Kate, who stayed with Annalee in the medical bay, everyone gathered to listen to what Garza had to say. He fingered the butterfly bandage over his eyebrow as he nervously eyed the small but anxious group. He noticed John clenching his teeth as he stood next to Reams in the back of the room. Mother and L.T. were the last to arrive. This can’t be any worse than having to tell John that his daughter is being held by a madman. Seeing no reason to beat around the bush, Garza dove right in.

  “Earlier today, Animal and I went out to assess the damage done to the barricade. While we were out there, a car with two men in it approached and stopped about one hundred yards from the wall. One man got out and placed a plastic bag on the ground before they drove off. When I looked inside the bag, I found Dr. Sodecci’s severed head with a note attached to his forehead.”

  Gasps and other sounds of disgust arose from those in the room. Garza raised a hand to silence the group’s quiet murmurs.

  “There’s more. The note was from a man who calls himself the Puppet Master. He claims to be responsible for the recent attack, and he claims to have Ava Wild in his custody.”

  As horrible as that was, it elicited no gasps from the crowd. Instead, the room fell deathly quiet. Every pair of eyes glanced side to side in search of John, but no one dared to turn and look directly at him.

  Continuing, Garza said, “Based on the rest of the note, I believe this is the same guy that General Montes, Dr. San, and I encountered on our way here. I fought with him and shot him outside an abandoned gas station. He clearly holds a grudge against me for that. Sodecci must have told him about Dr. San and her work toward a cure for LNV. He wants to make a trade—Ava for Lin, the cure, and me. If we don’t comply, he promises to mount a
n even larger attack than the last.”

  The silence that had descended over the room’s occupants stretched on for what seemed like an eternity. Finally, General Montes spoke.

  “No.”

  That one word carried so many potential meanings that it was hard to know exactly how each person interpreted it. What Montes meant was there would be no trade. Although he didn’t know if his military or even his country existed anymore, he was still a soldier and he still had his orders. Those orders were to protect Dr. San. His thoughts drifted to Corporal Rocha and what Connor had done to him. Montes balled his fists in anger at the notion that the same person was behind their current misery.

  “We’ll get Ava back, but we cannot comply with his request. Dr. San is too important, and her work cannot be allowed to fall into the hands of a thug like this guy,” Montes added through gritted teeth.

  One by one, everyone in the room nodded in agreement. Seeing the consensus, Garza said, “Then we’re going to need a plan.”

  * * *

  “This guy’s smart. There probably won’t be much time between when he contacts us and the actual trade. I doubt we’ll have time to scout the location. So unless it’s someplace we’re already familiar with, we’ll be going in blind,” Garza said.

  “What do we know about this guy and the strength of his forces?” L.T. asked.

  Mother blew out the breath he’d been holding. “Very little. Our best estimate is that maybe ten men accompanied the horde during the attack. They’ve obviously learned to use the infected to their advantage. Beyond that, we know nothing about their background and training aside from what Garza and Montes told us about their encounter with this Puppet Master guy prior to their arrival here. If we assume that his men are similarly trained, then we’re dealing with a dangerous bunch of guys. Based on the explosions that rocked the barricade and the weapons we confiscated, we know they have access to some serious firepower.”