by LC Champlin
“Mr. Serebus is not . . . acting sensibly.” Albin shifted his shoulders in discomfort at the words.
“That’s pretty vague.”
In the rear, Bridges glared out the window as they continued down the parkway. “If you only knew, Josephine.”
“What I am trying to convey,” Albin resumed, his heart rate increasing, “is that he lied to us.”
“What?” Behrmann stared at him as if he had suggested the Supreme Court made judicial rulings by casting dice.
“He attempted to kill Kenichi Oshiro and take over his fortress.”
“I’m sure he—”
“Allow me to finish. He ordered me to send the police to areas where he knew the Red Devil Goats would not be. This provided the mercenaries a clear escape route. He went so far as to inform them of it when they were evacuating the water-treatment facility and radio station. He was working with Sarge.”
“But that’s fine; Sarge was fighting Red Chief! Their civil war helped us.”
“He didn’t have to continue supporting the bastards.” Bridges punched the side of the door at the epithet. “Those human-trafficking pieces of shit.”
“He betrayed us, Ms. Josephine.” Be it the pain-control medication, the trauma, or the pressure of leadership, Mr. Serebus had allowed his lust for power to dominate him. “We fought to keep the Red Devil Goats from airing the broadcast they believed would control the cannibals. Yet after Jeremy Nelson disconnected the power to the radio transmitter, risking his life in the process, Mr. Serebus initiated the broadcast himself.” Hearing the words come from his own mouth made them doubly powerful.
The passengers fell silent. One could almost hear their imago of the man splinter like crystal under a hammer. Mr. Serebus had led them for what seemed like years but amounted to three days. He had saved their lives, but he also placed them in situations that had nearly cost them their lives.
“He must have had a good reason.” Behrmann shook her head as she spoke, and continued to shake it for a moment after.
“I thought the same.” Albin’s mind returned to their confrontation. “I presented Mr. Serebus with the opportunity to explain himself. He refused, declaring his way to be the proper one.”
“That sounds about right.” Brows furrowing, Bridges cracked his neck as if it could release his inner tension. “We trusted him. And he did this to us.”
“In God’s name,” Behrmann exclaimed, “what are you talking about? He did what to us? Brought us out of the city full of cannibals and away from Ken, who tried to make us into living players in his video game? Or do you mean that Nathan broke up a group of terrorist-paid, human-trafficking mercenaries?
“Marvin, I expect this from you. You don’t know him. But Albin!” She regarded him with shock and disappointment, eyes wide and lips parted as if she could not find the words to express the horror he caused her. “Albin, you are his friend. You’ve been together for years. How can you not take a moment to understand what happened? We have to go back and talk to him.” This came in the tone of finality as she gave a nod at her idea. “I’m sure he’ll be able to explain.”
“I do not believe he is in the mood to discuss matters. He attempted to shoot me.”
Behrmann stared. “Shoot you? With a gun?”
“I’m not surprised,” Bridges grunted. “And yes, with a gun, Josephine. What else would he shoot him with? A rubber band?”
“So where are we going if not to talk to him?”
“I am going to the authorities.” Albin gripped the steering wheel as if holding a rope while dangling over a chasm. “Perhaps with their resources I will be able to bring him to his senses.”
Sighing, Behrmann massaged her temples with both hands. “How? He just talked to the DHS a few hours ago; they don’t have a problem with him leading.”
“I will arrange a way.” In truth, the how remained hazy, like the smoke after a gunshot.
Then she straightened, looking at Albin in realization. “Where is he?”
“I assume he is still at the Musters’ residence, though he may have pursued me. But as I did not see either Ms. Amanda’s car or the late Ms. Carolyn’s SUV behind me, he may have thought better.” Or he may have thought his adviser had deserted him, and had accepted the fact with pleasure. However, given Mr. Serebus’s temper, that possibility seemed improbable.
“Albin, stop the truck!”
What had possessed her now? Albin slowed the vehicle to a halt at Marlin Drive. “What is—”
The door slammed on his sentence as she departed.
Bridges threw his door open and leapt out after her. “Josephine, stop! He’ll probably shoot you too!”
Chapter 3
Nothing but the Half Truth
Call Me - Shinedown
“I need a moment,” Nathan warned as he stalked toward the house in which his best friend had attempted to murder him.
God had chosen Nathan to lead. Then why had He allowed Albin, Nathan’s most valuable asset, to desert?
“Nathan, I don’t know what happened, and I’m really sorry to tell you,” Amanda continued as she followed him, “but the neighborhood needs a strong hand right now. They’re starting to wonder what’s going on.”
Indeed, people had begun exiting their houses to mill on the sidewalks. Upon seeing one another, several of the neighbors formed a clot. If left to coagulate, they would eventually block the flow of peace and security, resulting in a heart attack for Redwood Shores. More civilizations fell from trouble within than from terror without.
Albin could—No, if Albin had remained loyal, he could have helped distribute and manage forces.
“Amanda, you were Carolyn’s second-in-command.”
“I was not in command, Nathan. I just helped.”
“You need to start thinking of yourself as second-in-command, then.” He took her by the shoulders gently and met her walnut-brown gaze. “I need you, Amanda. Your girls need you.” He looked behind her at the sisters. “I don’t know when Albin is coming back, or what he’s doing. Please don’t tell anyone else in the neighborhood what’s happened. If they ask after him, tell them he’s out of the neighborhood for a while. Tell them you don’t know why, but you think he’s talking to the government about getting us supplies.” This resembled the truth more than they knew.
“All right, Nathan.” Lifting her chin, Amanda straightened her posture.
“You work in Human Resources—”
“It’s more talent acquisition and employee evaluation.”
“Use your experience and your skills to find people who can be block captains for us. Use the information Carolyn collected about residents’ occupations and expertise.”
“I have a few people in mind.”
“Excellent.” He gave her a smile and nod. “We have to protect the neighborhood first and foremost. Food, water, and ammunition will come after.”
The ammunition for—Shit, the AR-15 lay in the back seat of the Tacoma! Now Albin claimed a pistol and a rifle. Perhaps Marvin had left his shotgun somewhere accessible. If nothing else, the fallen gangsters’ AK and pistols would offer a start to an armory.
Nathan stood back. “I need a minute to plan our next move.”
“Nathan!” Blue windbreaker flapping, Josephine pounded down the sidewalk toward them. “Albin said you’d be here.”
“You saw him?” Nathan stepped away from Amanda. “Where is he? I need to speak to him. Now.”
“Nathan, I need to talk to you. Now.”
“Josephine!” Marvin halted at the corner of the street a few houses away. When he spotted Nathan, he froze.
“Marvin.” As Nathan started toward him, the economist backed up. When Nathan stopped, he stopped. The hedgehog-haired man shifted his weight from foot to foot as his hand slid under his shirt to find his pistol.
“Marvin, what’s the matter? Did you see Albin?” Hard to keep the edge out of his voice when saying the name.<
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“Nathan, I can’t stay here anymore, not after what happened and what you did.” The words came in a rush, as if they would lacerate his tongue if he didn’t spit them out fast enough. Then he sprinted around the corner, out of sight.
“Nathan—” Josephine’s voice buzzed in the background.
“What the hell is wrong with everyone?” Nathan turned on her. “What did Albin tell you? Where is he?”
“Well—” Josephine caught herself when she saw Amanda and her daughters. “Can we talk privately?” She leaned away from him slightly and smiled as she addressed the women: “Sorry, it’s family business, so to speak.”
Amanda looked confused and somewhat irritated, but she and the girls kept silent.
“Come.” Nathan led the way to the house.
No sooner had the door closed than Jo launched into her opening statements. “Albin told me everything. He said you tried to kill Ken, you helped the Goats, and you even started the radio frequency broadcast. Can you explain this?” Reporter Mode, which permitted only accusation.
“He told you that?” Keeping the tone casual proved difficult when his fist burned to punch a hole in the plasterboard.
“He and Marvin.”
“Marvin?” Nathan’s brows climbed as he leaned back against the kitchen counter, a foot from where he had almost lost his life to a .45. Marvin. Of course. That explained how Albin had learned of Nathan’s attempt to overthrow the lunatic Ken Oshiro. Marvin would regret running at the mouth. “What does he know about anything? He’s never even around when situations go south.”
“What made you feel you needed to do these things?”
Cold smile. “I did not kill Ken. He was playing god; I played back.” According to Ken’s call a few hours ago, the madman still played with the King of Fools, as he called Nathan. “As for the Goats, helping Sarge helped me. Didn’t I”—thumb jab at his own chest—“then kill both him and Red Chief?”
“Did you?”
“It’s hard to survive having your face two feet from a flash-bang canister. I didn’t look for the bodies, because I assumed the cannibal horde surrounding them would finish them off.”
“What about the radio broadcast? You thought it would give the terrorists control over the cannibals—”
“I was led to believe it would give me control.” He sighed and looked away. “But obviously that did not happen.” Yet. The resonance modulation output terminal—ReMOT for short—belonged to him. If only it would start working . . .
Hands on her hips, head cocked, she regarded him. “If anything, the affected seem to be getting worse. The government’s had reports of them using teamwork to accomplish their goals. They’re becoming cohesive units.”
The saliva in Nathan’s mouth evaporated. He swallowed, or tried to. “Cohesive units. You mean they’re starting to form fruiting bodies?”
“What?”
“Like the slime mold the contagion is based on, according to the research files. The pseudo-protozoa act together to form a fruiting body that produces more of their kind.”
“Why didn’t you just let the authorities take the ReMOT instead of using it yourself?”
“After all they’ve done to us, you still have faith in them?” Even considering her government-adoring mainstream-media bias, how could she still believe in them? “The terrorist group has people in the government. I didn’t want to risk handing it over to an employee who secretly works for Istiqaamah, the Islamic State, or whatever organization was behind the broadcast. I have a feeling this goes much deeper than simply terrorists.” And so did Ken.
“Is that the whole truth?” The longing of a believer hoping for a sign shone in her eyes despite the shade of skepticism.
“The truth and nothing but.” Nothing but a little watering down to make it more palatable. Allowing the pain in his soul into his expression, he settled a hand on her shoulder. “I don’t know why Albin acted the way he did. Josephine, he shot me. Did he happen to mention that?” He pulled his T-shirt flat against his left pectoral to display the bullet hole.
With a sharp intake of breath, she put a hand over her mouth. “But . . . he said you shot him.”
“I fired warning shots to stop him. I didn’t want him running into the cannibal- and enemy-infested streets while in that mindset. Emotional people make mistakes. I didn’t want him to get hurt, but he wasn’t listening when I told him to stop.”
“Oh, Nathan.” She sighed and shook her head, relief in the relaxing of her shoulders. “I think Albin is just overstressed right now. He’s been through a lot. I know you have too, but he had to . . .” She looked away, jaw muscles working.
“He had to what?”
“Jennifer. Zander’s mom.”
“You mean the cannibal that used to be Zander’s mom.” And whom Jeremy had harbored in his house like a stray animal. Not that Nathan could blame him too much. If Janine—no. None of those thoughts.
“Albin had to put her down.” Steel in her tone and glare.
“He shot her in the head.” The best way to kill a cannibal. If anyone could make that headshot, Albin could.
“I think it really took a toll on him. He’s not as emotionless as he seems.”
As if Nathan didn’t already know this. Eight years trumped four days of acquaintance. “That doesn’t excuse him shooting me. He could have killed me. In fact, I’m not sure he didn’t mean to do just that.” Ice filled Nathan’s heart as his extremities tingled.
“I find that hard to bel—”
“You didn’t see his face.” Cold and pale, channeling the ruthlessness of his British ancestors, who deposed monarchs by assassination. “Still, I need to talk to him. Where is he?”
“He was in the Tacoma at the corner of Marlin and Redwood, but he’s probably gone by now.” She held her arms away from her sides in a shrug of defeat. “He said he was going to the authorities. He doesn’t have many options, really.”
“No, he doesn’t.” Then again, she didn’t know Albin Conrad.
Chapter 4
Federal Assistance
I’ll Be Gone - Linkin Park
Two police cars passed the parked Tacoma on their way south, leaving to assist their brothers in arms in fighting the cannibals and mobs that engulfed San Francisco.
As Albin waited, he checked each mirror in turn. One minute remained for Bridges to return, after which he must secure his own transportation to the government base. As for Behrmann, if she wished to side with a man possessed of fractured judgment, let her exercise her right to make foolish decisions.
A figure emerged from the intersection of Davit Lane and Marlin Drive and broke into a jog. Bridges.
On the east side of the street, to the economist’s right, a two-meter-high wooden fence common to most California neighborhoods protected the houses. A head appeared atop the barrier. The owner struggled to bring an arm over. White as an exsanguinated corpse, the face contorted in a snarl. Distance prevented a clear view of the eyes or complexion, but one needn’t have a perfect image to recognize a cannibal.
With a last jerk, it flew over the wall as if launched from a trebuchet. It landed on all fours like a frog. Rearing, it threw back its head. If Albin lowered the windows, the cannibal hiss would reach him and rake his sanity. He kept them sealed.
Spotting the monsters, Bridges broke into a run. While conventional wisdom instructed one never to run from an animal, all convention vanished in the face of these abominations.
Two more cannibals sprang over the fence. Then another pair writhed across to land on Marlin Drive’s sidewalk.
The two lead cannibals broke into their ground-eating lope: two to three bipedal steps, their torsos falling farther forward at each, then their hands came down as if preparing to perform a push-up. Their legs launched off to land in front of their arms. They resembled lions on the hunt.
Albin placed the vehicle in drive and sped down Marlin, aiming between Bridges
and the predators. He could run them down, but colliding with a human would damage the vehicle, possibly rendering it less effective for escape. If any of the windows broke, the cannibals or their oily sputum would find a way inside.
The lead cannibals dashed forward, trying to cut off Bridges. The other three spread single file and moved diagonally like a fishing net to close the distance to their prey.
The tires screeched as Albin braked beside Bridges. “Get in the back,” Albin ordered through the semi-open window.
The economist swung himself over the edge of the truck to land in a crouch near the cab. His feet had barely touched the bed liner when Albin accelerated down Marlin Drive.
He rumbled across the median in a U-turn. The cannibals fell away as the vehicle sped out to Redwood Shores Parkway. There he banked right, southwest, and proceeded toward Marlin Park.
Due to the park’s proximity to the heart of the neighborhood, the government had used the football—ah, soccer—field as a staging area while they prepared to dispatch the cannibals at the Heron Court Apartments on the western end of Redwood Shores.
Only a skeleton crew of law enforcement officers remained, likely planning to act as rear guard when the government forces completed their withdrawal. Two police cruisers guarded the car park beside the tennis court.
Hopefully he would find—Aha. A Hispanic DHS officer with the air of a Tasmanian devil prepared to slide into the passenger seat of a patrol car. Officer Rodriguez. She barked an order at her driver, a police officer.
Albin guided the Tacoma into the car park, stopping five meters from the cruiser. Officer Rodriguez stared at the interlopers, her eyes narrowed in suspicion.
As Albin stepped out, Bridges vaulted over the side. “Officer Rodriguez,” Albin addressed her as he approached. “We require your assistance.”
“What is it now, Conrad? More cannibals? Did the Devil Goats get back into the neighborhood?” Her tone made it clear the ideas caused her annoyance, not concern. “You people wanted to be on your own. What’s the matter, isn’t Serebus stepping up to the plate?” She smirked.
