by LC Champlin
“Oshiro? He’s one of those tech people, isn’t he? Well, it’s a good thing you’ve got somebody supporting you out there. You don’t have much clout otherwise.”
They crossed the main entry area to the doors. The Soldiers on guard snapped to attention at the lieutenant colonel’s approach.
“Speaking of clout,” Albin continued as they cut across the car park, “Mr. Serebus still believes he is chosen of God. Given time, he will likely form a religion with himself as supreme minister.”
“You find his teachings revolting and him obnoxious, right?”
Albin took a breath. “I . . . I do.”
“Because he’s talking about God?” No judgment in the tone, merely questioning.
“Everyone assumes I am an atheist or an agnostic.” Albin unlocked the Tacoma as they neared the vehicle. “But that is not the case.”
Opening the door, he produced a bottle of radiation-green soda from the back seat and handed it to Jim. The officer’s face lit; ten years of premature aging and two days of exhaustion slipped away. “Come on, I got a few minutes left. Let’s tailgate.” Not waiting for a response, Jim continued to the truck’s rear, where he let down the gate. As he took a seat, he patted a place beside him. “Go on.”
“It is not that I disbelieve in the holiness of God. On the contrary, I believe He is too holy to besmirch Himself with the endeavors of the human race. We are evil from birth; I see no reason for a holy God to have any dealings with us.”
“Mm. Do you know why you find Nathan’s religion, if you want to call it that, so revolting?” The Mountain Dew hissed as Jim broke the seal.
“I admit I had not considered it in that way.” Mr. Serebus and his beliefs had until now blended into one being.
“It’s because the only blood in his religion is from those weaker than himself.” Jim took a sip of the soda. “When that’s the case, you get just what I said, repulsive teachings and obnoxious followers.”
“Forgive me, but how does that information assist my efforts?”
“Show him that blood freely given is what makes him God’s chosen one. He’s got to be humbled.”
“I’m not certain I understand.”
“I’m saying, don’t give up.” The officer turned a surprisingly soft gaze on Albin. “Even if it seems like a lost cause, you can’t give up. What he’s doing, he’s doing because he wants the right thing. But the power is blinding him. When you take away the power, when you humble him, he will have no choice but to come to reality.”
“Or he will attempt to kill me.” Albin shrugged, sarcasm blatant.
“What if he did try? Would you kill him in self-defense?”
Sighing, Albin rested his elbows on his knees and considered the asphalt between his trainers.
“You thought you were going to kill him, didn’t you.” Looking into the distance, Jim nodded to himself. “That’s what you meant by being the hunter.”
“I spoke with his wife and son recently via satellite phone. She asked me to protect him. I did not tell her . . .” Guilt and mild panic grasped his chest with bony fingers, choking his breath.
“You didn’t tell her he went insane? That was probably a good idea.”
“I did tell Mr. Serebus that he had lost his senses. I attempted to talk him out of his God delusion.”
“Oh.” The officer’s brows came together as he tightened the Mountain Dew lid. “How did that work out for you?”
“Poorly, to put it mildly.”
“Yeah, people don’t like being told they’re crazy.”
“Then I will have to demonstrate to him that he is mad.”
“Just don’t kill him, all right?” With a chuckle, Jim added, “I worked hard to keep him alive.”
Albin smiled. “I shall endeavor to keep him out of your infirmary.”
Speaking with the surgeon lifted a weight from Albin’s shoulders. Death may come to Mr. Serebus, but it would come only after he had lost everything and exhausted every chance for salvation. Dishonor before death.
Chapter 62
This Dishonorable Peace
Walk Through Fire - Zayde Wolf
Sarge had departed like a ghost in the darkness. Now Nathan stared into the face of his satellite phone, or rather the phone that once belonged to a mercenary.
“It’s 20:30. I’ve waited long enough.” The phone beeped as he pressed the numbers.
Calling . . .
“Good evening, is this Nathan Serebus?” A female voice.
“It is. Whom do I have the pleasure of addressing?” Falling into the habits of the business world and its etiquette brought a wave of calm.
“My name is Lexa Birk. I believe you know my brother.”
Lexa Birk, sister of the traitor Victor Anthony Birk. Nathan stared into the night sky, questions as plentiful as the stars and burning with equal intensity.
“I infer from your silence that you do. You may or may not have heard of me. I’m an administrator at the research firm LOGOS Biotherapeutics Institute. Your achievements have caught my attention.”
“I’m flattered.” She had watched the news broadcasts. Thankfully Josephine had presented him in a favorable light.
“You overthrew a terrorist leader while being held hostage. Now you’ve taken over leadership of a neighborhood. I’m aware you also have my brother’s files, or to put it more accurately, the files he took from Doorway Pharmaceuticals.”
How did she know this? Wait, Ken mentioned “the twisted sister” when he spoke of the Goats’ client. Birk’s sister. How else would they know exactly where to look for Vic’s safe if not for her inside intel? Birk either withheld the data from her, or his trip to the lockup locked down his chance to hand it over. But was she really Red’s buyer for the ReMOT? You couldn’t trust anything Ken said. “You seem to know the answers to your own questions. That saves me time, Ms. Birk.”
“Call me Lexa, please.”
“And please, call me Nathan.”
“Nathan, you have questions, I know. Foremost is why I asked you to call.”
“Again, you’re correct.” Nathan paced in the backyard, pulling a leaf from a bush here and there as he went.
“You are in possession of information and equipment that are rather difficult to acquire.” How did she know he hadn’t destroyed the ReMOT? Perhaps it relayed a signal to LOGOS’s satellite. “You have experience, knowledge, and skills that set you in a class of your own. I also understand you are seeking a way to control the cannibals.”
That settled it: she had contracted the Goats to install the ReMOT. And likely to abduct it and its owner, among other hostages, from the St. Regis. If she was the buyer, it also explained how she knew he possessed a satellite phone. All the pieces fit. But did LOGOS represent a piece of this puzzle, or did it belong to another?
“And if I was?”
“If you were, you would require assistance.”
“The right help for the right price is always appreciated, certainly.” No doubt she felt the same.
“I can supply it, but of course I will need your help as well. Research projects succeed only with cooperation from numerous parties.”
Bingo. Nathan nipped a leaf from a shrub. “Are you suggesting you have an idea of how to control the Dalits?”
“Don’t you?” No reaction to the word Dalit. “You know the radio frequencies have some effect on them.”
“I was told it was to control them, but instead it only heightened their aggression.” Because, according to the buyer, he broadcast the frequency out of sync with the other transmissions.
“Aggression, yes.” It may have come from the satellite transmission, or from his perception, but the reply held a note of amusement.
“What do you want in exchange for your assistance?”
“Unfortunately, I am not at liberty to provide the details at this time, but it will not be unpleasant.”
The devil went down to Re
dwood Shores, looking for a soul to steal. Make a deal with the devil and attempt to win—or steal—the gold fiddle? Or should he reach for holy water? Then again, perhaps he spoke with an angel that had yet to fall. She’d claimed her faction wanted to stop the cannibals. Yet they worked with the Red Devil Goats. . . . But so did I.
“And are you at liberty to provide the details of the assistance you can provide? You understand my hesitation in entering a deal where the terms are unknown.”
“Of course!” she laughed, easy and confident. “I’ll provide you with the missing data. You need only develop it. This should pose little difficulty, considering the resources in Redwood Shores. I can have the files delivered tomorrow afternoon.”
Nathan twisted a leaf between his fingers. “I see no reason to avoid making a verbal contract.” Other than that he dealt with someone who might have set in motion an extinction-level event. “I’m sure you’re recording this conversation. I know I am.” He tapped the back of his smartphone as he held it against the side of the sat phone.
“I’m happy we could come to an arrangement. I know you won’t be disappointed. And don’t worry about your half of the bargain. When the time comes, you will not hesitate. In fact, you may even consider it a relief.”
“I’ll reserve judgment on that.”
++++++++++++
Josephine, Badal, and Amanda sat around the Musters’ dining room table while Nathan played the recording of the phone call.
“This is unbelievable.” Amanda shook her head as she leaned back in her chair when the audio finished. “The company I work for started this outbreak? I just can’t picture it.”
Drumming her fingers on the table, Josephine chewed her bottom lip. “She didn’t directly say it was LOGOS, but it’s even more difficult to believe that they’re not involved. She’s upper management, right?”
“She’s head of all the LOGOS research that’s located on the West Coast.”
Deserting his seat, Badal began pacing. “What kind of evil bastard is she? Creating cannibals . . . It takes a real sicko to do that—a real Hitler.”
“I’ve never gotten that vibe from her.” Pursing her lips, Amanda looked down. “Not at all. She demands a lot of our research teams, but that’s her job. She’s interested in supporting social justice causes like equal rights for minorities. She’s also a proponent of open borders, climate change action, Planned Parenthood, gun control legislation—”
“In short, population control, increased government authority, and decreased national identity,” Nathan cut in. “She’s not interested in social justice”—no leader truly was, no matter what they claimed—“she’s interested in power.”
Chronic leftists, Amanda and Jo exchanged looks of confusion. Badal meanwhile continued to wear a path in the carpet.
“Amanda.” Holding her gaze, Nathan eased into a chair across from her. “Can you tell us anything else about what LOGOS does?”
“What about its building here in Silicon Valley?” asked Josephine.
The HR minion spread her hands in surrender. “I’m not involved in research. The team leaders conduct the technical portion of employee evaluations. My colleagues and I evaluate the more human-related qualities, like communication skills, ability to work as a team—that sort of thing.” Typical HR nonsense.
“I see.” Elbows against his ribs, Nathan folded his hands over his sternum. “The information would be of limited use anyway.”
Halting, Badal turned to face his employer with set jaw and narrowed eyes. “Because we’re going to work with her and LOGOS anyway, right? They’d better watch their backs.”
“Precisely.”
++++++++++++
Nathan accompanied Badal and Josephine into the driveway. “I met someone else tonight,” he related, voice pitched so only they could hear.
Badal perked up like a dog with a treat. “Mikhail? He said he wanted to leave Albin, but he hasn’t been back—”
“No,” Josephine interrupted with an exasperated wave, “because it was all a ploy to get us out to the north side.”
“Sad but true,” Nathan sighed. “That’s not who I met, though. It was Sarge.”
“He’s alive?” Jo stared, horror dawning.
Badal looked about as if the Goat might charge from the bushes at any moment. “But the cannibals ate him and Red.”
“Obviously not,” Nathan responded, halting at the sidewalk. “He was unemployed when I spoke with him. Thus, he offered to give us a hand in exchange for sheltering him and his men here and giving them a third of what our supply runs”—his tongue turned from raids at the last minute—“find.”
“Do we need him?” Disgust oozed in Badal’s words.
“Besides that,” Jo added, “can we trust him?”
Cold smile. “That’s why we’re paying him.”
Chapter 63
Sow the Wind
Breath of Life - Florence + The Machine
“Nathan!” Pounding on his door.
Nathan jerked into full consciousness, then let out a groan and hugged his sides. The clock on the nightstand read 06:03 am. Shit, he’d slept in. Damn snooze button, bane of productivity.
“I’m coming.” He rolled out of bed.
He opened the door to find Josephine and Amanda waiting, worry on their faces. “What is it?” Not that he had to ask, but he did have to fight to keep the excitement from his voice.
“It’s the north side,” Josephine blurted a heartbeat ahead of Amanda.
“Cannibals.” Amanda’s expression hardened at the word.
“Come on.” Josephine waved for him to follow as she trotted down the hall.
With the growl, he pursued. “How many?”
“Just come.”
They hurried down the street, then crossed the yards to get a clear view of the north side of the channel. Josephine pulled a pair of compact binoculars from her windbreaker pocket and handed them to Nathan as he stopped beside her.
He raised them. A horde of cannibals advanced on the traitorous apartment complex. They swarmed over the area like maggots over a carcass.
His mouth went dry, while acid burned in his stomach. Cannibals should come, yes, but the sheer number and force of their horde shattered all expectations. He swallowed down bile. “Why are they—”
“There you three are!”
They turned to find Stacy jogging toward them.
“The frequency machine is gone. I went to get it so we could continue research on it, but it’s—” She stopped, eyes bulging and mouth open as she saw the other coast. “Are those cannibals? My God!”
Nathan gritted his teeth against the nausea. “Now we know where the frequency generator went. Someone stole it and installed it there. I don’t know why, though. The people there were considering allying with us.”
“Maybe that was the problem,” Amanda commented. “But how would they know about the machine? Wait, we were discussing it when we were walking, and I’m sure the scientists have mentioned it to their friends.”
Stacy didn’t deny the accusation.
“But who would go to that extreme?”
“Someone who hates the north side.” They didn’t need Holmesian deduction skills to deduce whom.
“God, that helicopter’s loud,” Josephine snarled, glaring into the distance over the northern shore.
The group shaded their eyes. A flight of three AH-64 Apache attack helicopters thumped toward them.
“That’s not good,” Stacy breathed.
When the hell did the military decide to get involved? They would let them all die of starvation or at the hands of raiders, but they chose now to step in?
Nathan’s ribs ached. A part of his mind cringed at the sight of the aircraft. Run, hide, get out before they blow you up again.
Eyes squeezed closed, he pressed his hand against the incision on his left side. No, God would not allow his pack and him to die like this. He reached
for his HT. “Security team, get people away from the waterside. There are military helicopters inbound, and I don’t want them to accidentally fire on us.”
Confirmations followed.
“Oh no,” Josephine gasped. “The people! They’re in the windows. There are some on the roofs.”
He snatched the binoculars back. The North Redwood Shores residents had fled to the roofs in hope that the cannibals couldn’t climb. A good try, but a failure: the monsters crawled up one another, bracing themselves against the wall and standing on each other’s shoulders. Their pyramid would have been the envy of any water skiing team from the 1960s.
Their hisses carried over the channel, blending with the thrum of the chopper rotors. The cannibals on the ground began to hurl themselves against the windows. Most of the windows bore boards across them, but the residents had left gaps. The creatures wrapped their arms around the boards and threw their weight backward. Over and over, tireless.
The nails loosened, wrenched free.
“We have to help them.” But even as she spoke, Josephine shook her head in the hopeless manner of a doctor pronouncing the diagnosis of terminal cancer.
“Well,” Amanda began, hesitant, “if there are helicopters, maybe there are soldiers on the ground. They can take them out. I know the helicopters have guns, and I’ve seen on the news that they can be pretty accurate.”
“Mm.” Nathan grunted. “They’re perfectly accurate when they want to be. But if you’re not important enough, you may as well be an enemy.”
As if in reply, fire erupted from the rear of the crafts’ missile pods. The swarm of Hornets roared toward the biggest clot of monsters. The ensuing fireball consumed the Dalits, but it also punched a hole in the building nearest them.
“It’s like the video of the massacre on the highway,” Nathan murmured. Shit, shit, shit! He hadn’t meant for it to go like this. A few herds of cannibals to frighten the people, and maybe a few deaths of those too stupid to get inside or heed the warnings of the guards. But not this. And certainly not with the government getting involved. With a horde this large, cannibals would soon spill over into his territory.
