Apocalyptic Fears II: Select Bestsellers: A Multi-Author Box Set

by Greg Dragon

  From the elevated vantage point, the mangled cars and strewn freight painted a scene that lent itself to a single interpretation: the train had derailed at high speed. Both the directionality of the crash and its point of origin were starkly evident. The two men were still too far away to see the smaller details. The crumpled tracks themselves were hidden from view, but the ground bore a series of very convincing scars that could be seen for miles.

  A refrigerated truck resolved itself from the wreckage. Stored inside were five charred bodies, the remains of the phony train crew. In actuality, none of the men had ever held a job within China’s railway system. They had all been casualties pulled from a warehouse explosion in the port city of Qinhuangdao that had coincidentally taken place just days before. They were among the dozens of bodies that would never be recovered.

  Norstrom had wondered several times if Aston or his people had had anything to do with that particular incident. The port city was at the other end of the very same railway line that had serviced the factory.

  “Looks like our Mister Wang Jingping has already arrived,” Aston remarked, eyeing the half dozen official vehicles parked just short of the crash. Several people were standing about, and one man could be seen picking through the rubble. He turned and started to head back when Aston’s driver honked.

  “It’s a terrible tragedy,” the large man said, drawing Norstrom’s attention back to their conversation. “The people who died. But they signed up for this, all of them. They knew the risks. They signed legally-binding releases.”

  But how many of them knew exactly what they were signing away? Norstrom wanted to ask. None, I bet.

  “Great leaps forward always require great sacrifice,” Aston concluded.

  Yeah, Norstrom thought. Just not from you.

  Chapter Thirty Five

  They pulled to a stop beside the other official vehicles, and the driver got out. He circled the car and opened Aston’s door. For once, the large man accepted the assistance, allowing himself to be pulled out of the seat. The door shut, leaving Norstrom alone to gather his thoughts.

  He watched the man for a moment making his way over the uneven ground, then pulled his phone out of his pocket and checked the screen. It had started vibrating a few minutes before, and now there was a single text from his man at the factory instructing him to call ASAP. He thumbed to connect and waited.

  How soon can you get here?

  “We’ve only just now arrived at the staged site. The Chinese investigators are here early. Are you in the lab?”

  Yeah, but I’m not the only one. There’s a woman here, sounds European. Says she’s a reporter.

  Norstrom sat up in surprise. He’d been expecting him to call, but not about this. He was eager to learn if something had been found in the bone fragment the doctors had removed from the American’s leg.

  Keeping the gruesome relic had been a hunch. After days of destroying evidence of a completely unknown nature at the crash site, evidence he had initially thought would be chemical or technological in nature, proprietary, he had began to suspect something much more sinister, especially as there had been nothing at the crash site except bodies. Now, after Aston’s confession, he was eager to know if his hunch had been correct.

  It appeared he’d have to wait to know.

  “Reporter?” he said. “We’re supposed to meet a reporter here.”

  I believe it’s the same one. She says they’re expecting her. Claims that if she doesn’t show up, someone will come looking for her.

  “Sounds like bluster. Do you—“

  HEY! GET YOUR HANDS UP WHERE I CAN SEE THEM!

  A female voice rose in the background. Norstrom couldn’t make out the words, but it sounded like she was pleading.

  Okay, she’s handing me some kind of . . . looks like identification. THROW IT ON THE TABLE! STAY THERE! It’s, uh, it’s just a press badge. MOVE! OVER THERE! AGAINST THE WALL!”

  “What’s her na—?”

  DOWN! SIT DOWN ON THE FLOOR! I SAID SIT YOUR ASS DOWN!

  Norstrom pursed his lips. This was not what he needed right now, more people sticking their noses in where they didn’t belong. “Make sure she’s alone.”

  Checking now. There’s something else, something you should see for yourself.

  “What is it?”

  The bone they pulled out of the American woman. You wanted me to look at it.

  “Yes! You found something?”

  It’s . . . . Well, you know I don’t have a clue what I’m supposed to be looking at.

  Norstrom’s gaze sought Aston out. The man was greeting each of the crash investigation team members now, individually shaking their hands. He managed to look solemn enough, sweeping an arm over the area while wiping a tear from his eye. He reached into the leather portfolio beneath his arm and extracted a bundle of papers and handed it to a middle-aged man with graying sideburns and a weathered face. Norstrom guessed that he was the lead agent. He wore a hard hat, leather gloves, and a green windbreaker with bright orange lettering on the back. The man standing between them appeared to be the interpreter.

  Aston looked over at the car and gestured for Norstrom to join them.

  Boss? What were you expecting to find?

  “I’m not sure. Did you look under the microscope?”

  Yes. And I think maybe you should come up and take a look for yourself.

  “What do you mean?”

  It’s just . . . . I think the damn thing’s still growing. Or was. It’s changed since we picked it up.

  “How?”

  I don’t know. The edges. They look like they’re healing.

  “That’s not possible.”

  But the conversation with Aston replayed in Norstrom’s mind, especially the part about testing trauma. What sort of technology were these people dabbling in?

  Maybe you should have Aston take a look.

  “No! Not Aston. It’s probably nothing to bother him with.”

  Norstrom stared hard at the group outside and wondered what Aston was hiding from everyone. What was the connection between the bone and the factory workers? He needed to find that out without Aston running interference.

  Okay, you’re the boss.

  “Look, I’ll try and leave here as soon as I can,” he said at last. “But I’ll have to come up with an excuse. Aston’s not happy about you being there on your own, breaking into his precious lab. They’re being unusually protective about something, so keep an eye out. I’ll head straight out as soon as I can get away.”

  What do you want me to do with the woman?

  “Just sit tight. Restrain her. Whatever means possible, just make sure she doesn’t go anywhere. And see what you can get out of her. Nothing extreme. I’ll interrogate her myself when I arrive, but get started.”

  Got it. See you in a few.

  “I’ll call when I’m on my way.”

  Chapter Thirty Six

  ”Shut up,” the man snapped in reply to Angel’s demand to tell her who he was. “You don’t ask the questions.”

  He edged his way over to the door and cautiously stuck his head out. After quickly checking the hallway in either direction, he glanced back in at her seated on the floor. The look on his face told her that he didn’t see Jamie. She must have heard the man talking and realized what had happened and slipped away. But to where? Did she go back to the car? Did she leave? How far would she get in her condition?

  The man stepped back into the room, hesitated for a moment, then circled the bench toward the spot where he’d been sitting when Angel surprised him. Keeping his gun trained on her, he reached over the bench, snatched his phone up off the surface, and slipped it into his pocket.

  “Who were you talking to just now?” she asked.

  “Are you deaf or simply stupid? I said to shut the hell up.” He started rifling through the drawers, yanking them open and slamming them shut again.

  “He said not to hurt me.”

  “I swear, if you don’t
shut your damn mouth, I will! You’re in big trouble coming here, you know that?”

  He pulled a coil of thin, clear tubing from a drawer and shook it loose. IV tubing, Angel realized. She guessed what he was planning to do with it.

  “On your stomach,” he snapped at her. “Now! Hands behind your back.”

  “You don’t have to do this.”

  “Oh, that’s right! I could just let you walk right on out of here so you can go report to the world everything we’re doing.”

  “What are you doing here?”

  “Lie down!”

  Angel did as he ordered, but she kept her eyes on him as he put one end of the tubing in his mouth and tugged the other with his free hand to test its strength. The gun lost its bearing on her, as did his eyes. But she didn’t dare move. There was no way she’d reach the door before he shot at her. Plus, she couldn’t leave without knowing what had happened to Jamie. “Why are you interested in the bone?” she asked.

  Instead of answering, he stuck the gun into the back of his waistband, then stepped over and drove a knee into her back, knocking the breath out of her lungs. “Move and I will slam your goddamn head into the floor.”

  “Look, I’m a medical doctor. If there’s something about that bone—“

  “Shut up! Shut the hell up, for god’s sake.”

  The tubing bit into her flesh as he wrapped it around her wrist, and she cried out that he was cutting off the circulation. He grabbed her other wrist, brought it to the first, and viciously wrapped it even tighter than before. When he was finished, he gave the works a few tugs, wrenching her shoulders painfully in their sockets. Angel bit back a cry.

  “You think that hurts? I was being gentle.” He started to pat her down, jamming his hand up into her armpits, underneath her belly, between her legs, searching for any weapons.

  Angel didn’t care about the physical and emotional discomfort. She was too focused on figuring out a way to escape.

  He found her cell phone and removed it. There was a pause, then he flung it onto the benchtop. “Dead as a doornail. Who else knows you’re here? Tell me now!” He pulled her head back by her hair, twisting it until she cried out in pain.

  “No one! I mean everyone!”

  Finally, the weight on her back lifted away. “Don’t move!” he warned, and he resumed his search through the drawers.

  “I won’t run. I promise. I can help. I’m a—“

  “You’re a liar is what you are!” He looked down at her, his eyes narrowing for a fraction of a moment. “First you’re a reporter, but now you’re a doctor? You really should get your story straight.”

  “I’m b-both.”

  He barked out a laugh. “And I’m Santa Claus and the Easter Bunny.”

  “It’s the truth,” she said, panting. It was hard to breathe. “I’m a medical investigative reporter. I came here because there was some kind of infectious disease on the train that crashed.” She had to strain her neck far enough around to see his face, but even at that awkward angle she saw his look of surprise. “If those people were sick—“

  “Shut up!”

  He hurried away from her and out of sight, but she could hear him shuffling around on the opposite side of the room. Water ran into the sink. She realized she’d gotten under his skin with mention of the infection.

  “You were at the crash site, weren’t you?” she asked. She knew she was pushing her luck again, but she doubted he’d do much worse than kick her. He might get angry enough to break a rib, but he wouldn’t kill her just for talking.

  You hope.

  “Those hazard suits you were wearing wouldn’t have protected you against a biological agent.”

  “Quiet,” he growled.

  “Which one were you, the flamethrower? Crane operator? I hope for your sake you weren’t one of the men walking around on the ground, searching through the dirt. All that exposure, at such proximity—“

  He suddenly appeared around the bench, though he didn’t look as upset as she expected. “You would’ve been exposed, too.” He studied her face, and a smile began to crease his lips. “I knew it! How stupid could you be to leave your coat where someone might find it? It’s like you were begging to be found.”

  She met his gaze with as much defiance as she could muster, but she didn’t reply.

  “I’m only going to ask you this once more,” he told her, the smile evaporating just as quickly as it had appeared. “Who else knows you’re here?”

  “Everyone. I sent a video of what you people were doing onto the internet. You should check. I’m sure it’s trending right now on Twitter.”

  His face blanched for a moment, but that was the extent of his physical reaction. “And your partner?” he asked. “Where is she? The other woman?”

  Angel couldn’t help it. She jolted in surprise, and the smile returned. He stood up again, nodding. “We know where she’s heading. My partner went after them. Yeah, we know she took that American woman from the hospital and are heading south. Where are they going? Chifeng? Our guys will catch up with them there, if not sooner.”

  Angel swallowed her surprise, trying not to show her relief. He thought Jamie was on her way to safety with someone else. He didn’t even suspect that she was here or that Angel was the one who had rescued her from the hospital. “What do you want with her?” she demanded. “The American. Why the bone?”

  “That’s none of your business.”

  “She doesn’t know anything. She’s just a scared little girl who happened to survive a train wreck.”

  He was searching through the drawers again. “Oh, I’m sure she knows plenty, being an employee of the company and all. But that’s none of my business. My job is to make sure there are no survivors, no witnesses.”

  He appeared again, this time with a small piece of laboratory equipment in his hand called a vortex mixer. From Angel’s college research experience, she knew that it was quite heavy, being nearly solid cast iron. Nestled inside was a powerful motor that drove a rubber head, causing it to vibrate. The device was used to mix solutions in test tubes. “No survivors,” he repeated, and raised it up over her. “No witnesses.”

  Angel tried to pull away, expecting the blow, but it never came. Instead, when she opened her eyes again, she saw that he had pulled out a pocketknife and was cutting through the power cord. It fell to the floor next to her face, coiling like an angry snake.

  With a snap, he shut the knife and put it back into his pocket. Then he set the ruined vortex mixer onto the benchtop again. “Feet up!” he ordered. But he knelt down beside her without waiting for her to comply and began to wind the cord around her ankles. Then he wrenched them up and bound them to her wrists. She realized in that moment that escaping out of the bindings would be next to impossible. The power cord wouldn’t stretch like the IV tubing would.

  “Please,” she begged, “at least remove the other one. It’s cutting off my circulation.”

  He stood beside her for a moment, then pulled the knife out again. He placed a foot on her back and yanked at her wrists. Pain sliced through Angel’s shoulders. Her thighs began to cramp. She felt him cutting through the plastic, grunting as he did. After a moment, a few pieces of the tubing fell to the floor.

  “Now,” he said, bending to one knee, “that should hold you while I go check the rest of the building.”

  Angel mumbled something into the floor.

  “What’s that?” he snarled, bending down closer. “Speak louder!”

  She turned her head toward him. “I said, you should have done that first.”

  He frowned at her. But the look was gone a moment later, when the mixer slammed into the back of his head and drove him unconscious to the floor.

  Chapter Thirty Seven

  Jamie screamed in pain as she dropped the vortex mixer and clutched at her belly. Even through the loose shirt, Angel could see how distended her stomach had become. She couldn’t imagine the willpower it must have taken for her not to cry out in pain
while hiding, waiting for the perfect opportunity to attack.

  She collapsed to the floor beside the unconscious man and screamed again. Eventually, the cries turned to sobs. Then those, too, faded.

  “Jamie, can you untie me?”

  “You have to get them out,” Jamie whispered. “Please, just get them out.”

  Angel struggled with the bindings, but it was no good. The cord simply had no give to it, and her struggling only seemed to be making them tighter. “You’ve got to untie me, Jamie. I can’t get them out myself.”

  The man had landed face-first, hitting the tiled floor hard enough to break the skin on his brow. Blood had begun to puddle beneath his cheek. She watched it expand toward his nose, then touch and merge with it. A bubble formed beneath one nostril, popped, formed again.

  All at once, the tension left Jamie’s body.

  “Jamie?”

  “I’m . . . here.”

  “I can’t help you unless you untie me. We need to get out of here before he wakes up. And more men are coming. Jamie?”

  Slowly, painfully, the girl raised herself up off the cold floor. She sat for a moment, swaying, her eyes unfocused. Finally, she nodded. Her lips were badly chapped and tinged gray with severe dehydration and, in that moment, Angel remembered the boys on Huangxia Island, how sickly they had appeared. The breath coming out of Jamie’s mouth smelled just as bad as theirs had been.

  Angel urged her on, reminding her that they didn’t have much time. And so Jamie tried, taking the most direct route, which was over the man’s body. The effort quickly drained her, and she had to rest before resuming.

  At last, the bindings loosened. And then Angel’s wrists were free. She straightened her legs, wincing as her thighs cramped up.

  She went straight to the man. A large bump had formed on the back of his head where Jamie had hit him. The skin was broken there, too, though the wound had already begun to clot. He’ll live, she thought, but he’s going to wake up with a terrible headache and probably a concussion. She didn’t intend to be around when that happened.