by JE Gurley
Vince felt a sliver of hope. Now he had to leverage it to full advantage. “You want us to warn them.”
The Gray Man shook his head sadly, disappointed that Vince had missed the point. “No, Sergeant. Any word of warning you could bring would be too late. Their fate is out of your or my hands. I want you to help me stop the Major.”
The pieces slowly began to fall into place in Vince’s mind. “You, your friends and I, all buddied up against the Major and his armed escort. Sounds all cozy. Why should I trust you?”
The Gray Man tossed Vince his pistol. It slid across the table noisily. Vince grabbed it with one hand, quickly checked to see if it was loaded, and aimed it at the Gray Man’s head. He forced a smile to his battered lips.
“Killing me will get you nowhere, Sergeant,” the Gray Man said. “You can’t escape without my help. The New Apostles will hunt you down even if the Major doesn’t. They would like nothing better than to feed you to their Children of God.”
He began pouring water from the jug into the glasses and pushed them one by one across the table. Amanda picked one up and drank from it, her eyes never leaving the Gray Man’s face. However, Roy and Mike kept their distance for which Vince was grateful. He was concerned that Roy might try something stupid.
“Will your friends go along?”
The Gray Man shrugged. “It matters very little. They will do as I say. If they should raise any objections, I don’t think you would hesitate to shoot them to save your companions.”
Vince lowered the gun but kept his finger on the trigger. “So what’s your plan?”
“I am urging Brother Malachi to leave this place.”
“Why would he do that?”
“Because tomorrow at dawn, three jets will drop twelve large canisters of Sarin gas less than four miles from here in an attempt to eliminate the zombies. The cloud will pass this way an hour later. Anyone still here will die.”
“It works against zombies?”
The Gray Man smiled. “Zombies are fast, vicious and difficult to kill, but I assure you, they are not invincible. The military has cleared two square miles of downtown San Diego of zombies and erected barriers to secure the area. Phoenix is next because of its proximity to a nuclear power plant and to the railway lines. It is easier to move men and materiel by rail than by truck over damaged and clogged highways. We will use the confusion of the bombing to our advantage.”
Vince whistled. “That’s cutting it close.”
“Brother Malachi and his flock must be gone before we make a move. Otherwise, we’ll be greatly outnumbered. They don’t kill zombies, but they won’t hesitate to kill you.” He grinned and added, “Or me for that matter. I’ll inform you of the time to make your move.” He rose and walked to the door. “Don’t try to strike out on your own. Right now, we have a mutual enemy – the Major. If you cross me, you’ll have two enemies.”
After the door shut, Dennis rushed over to him. “I don’t trust him.”
“We would be stupid to do so,” Vince agreed as he began ladling stew into bowls for everyone, “but we need his help for now. Later, we can see how things roll. If he presents a problem, I have no qualms about killing him.”
The look of hatred on Amanda’s face gave Vince the shivers. “If you don’t, I will.”
As he spooned warm vegetable stew into his mouth, Vince wondered what the history was between Amanda and the Gray Man, but refrained from asking. In the new world, everyone had a history.
* * * *
“We must make plans to leave.” Brother Ezekiel felt more at home at the New Apostle enclave than he had ever been in his pre-Redemption home in New Mexico, but he had the others’ safety to consider. Brother Malachi’s reluctance to leave mystified him.
“This is our home,” Brother Malachi countered. “God chose this place for us. I will not take our flock to San Diego.”
“Into the desert then as the Gray Man suggests. It would be but a short while. Until the Sarin gas dissipates.”
Brother Malachi’s fist slammed on the arm of his chair. “Bah! The two are in league. The Major wants us out so that he can commandeer this place for his headquarters. I can see it in his eyes. The Gray Man is his tool.”
“You can’t know that. The Major could have done so at any time. How do you propose we resist him?”
“With all our strength.”
Brother Malachi’s voice was thundering in his anger. Brother Ezekiel was afraid someone outside the closed door of Brother Malachi’s room might overhear. “Please speak more quietly,” he cautioned.
Brother Malachi stared at him. “Are you losing your faith, Brother?”
Brother Ezekiel knew that his faith was not as strong as the leader’s, but he resented the accusation. He had devoted himself body and soul to the New Apostles. “How dare you? I have stood beside you in all endeavors. I am steadfast in my faith and in God’s will, but the Major is not a believer. A two-day trek into the desert is a small price to pay to save everyone.”
Brother Malachi lowered his head and covered his eyes with his hands. His shoulders shuddered as silent sobs wracked his body. After a few moments while Brother Ezekiel looked on sympathetically, he raised his head and said, “You are right, of course. My pride blinds me. The Major is but another obstacle to our faith. We shall endure him as we have all such obstacles. Make the preparations.”
“It is possible they may try to prevent our leaving,” Brother Ezekiel warned.
Brother Malachi nodded twice. “Arm everyone with weapons. Tell them not to hesitate to kill. The Major and his men are unbelievers.”
“What about the Gray Man and his men and the munies?”
“Leave them to their fate. They are of no concern to us.”
Brother Ezekiel nodded politely and left Brother Malachi to his thoughts. Much troubled their leader, but his mind was still as sharp as ever. Leaving their Twin Buttes sanctuary, even if only for a day or two, seemed to be their only solution. Even if the heavier than air Sarin gas did not rise as high as the buttes, the Major would not allow them to remain. Safety lay in the desert. God would protect them from the Children of God, but no one would protect them from the major.
* * * *
The Gray Man knew he was taking a chance. The Major’s men were some of the best, while Leo Atkins and Jacob Ahiga had dealt only with hapless munies and zombies. They could shoot, but they could never match the coordinated moves by trained military. He would send them into the fracas as a distraction, while he and Holcomb sought out the Major. He did not trust Holcomb. Once they had eliminated the Major, he had no doubts that Holcomb would turn on him. He expected it, and in a way, welcomed it. He did not want to kill Holcomb in cold blood.
He had no concern for the four munies that he had been so determined to get back to San Diego. His plans had changed. If the military were beginning a campaign against the zombies, their attention would be distracted from him. With the Major gone, in the confusion he could finagle or steal enough Blue Juice to set him free. Being the Major’s attack dog had never appealed to him. As he had told Holcomb, circumstances had consequences. His circumstances were about to change.
18
Erin watched Elliot nervously pacing out of the corner of her eye as she completed the test on Harris’, Mendoza’s, and Idol’s blood. She was slightly puzzled that Elliot insisted upon immediate tests for the three instead of in a batch with all the others. It seemed like a waste of valuable time. When the timer buzzed and the centrifuge stopped spinning, she removed the test tubes and examined them. To her astonishment, small amounts of white precipitate had settled to the bottom of all three tubes. She pushed her glasses up the bridge of her nose and examined them more closely. Finally, she shook the tubes but the precipitate did not dissolve.
“This can’t be,” she exclaimed.
Elliot quickly crossed the room and loomed over her. “What?”
She did not answer as she added two drops of reagent to each tube. One remained
clear, but two of the samples turned pale yellow. She let out a long sigh through purse lips.
“What?” Elliot demanded.
“Neither Harris nor Mendoza is immune,” she explained, “but Idol is.”
Elliot’s face muscles relaxed. “That’s not surprising.”
“No, but the fact that all three have been taking Blue Juice is.”
“Are you sure?”
“Traces of the vaccine are present in all the samples, but why would Idol need it?”
Elliot swore under his breath. “Because Harris told him that he did.”
Erin looked up at Elliot. “I don’t understand.”
“Who uses Blue Juice?”
“Well, we do, of course, and the military and...” her face paled as she stared at Elliot open mouthed.
“Exactly – Hunters. Harris and his friends are spies. I have to tell Mace and Jeb. Lock the doors.” When Erin hesitated, he shouted, “Now!”
She watched Elliot rush from the room, concerned by his agitation. She didn’t blame him. A cold fear swept over her as she realized that if Harris and the others were Hunters, then everyone in Biosphere2 were in danger. She had to move fast. She jumped up from her chair, sending it spinning across the room.
“Everyone, listen up!”
Susan peered at her from around the corner. “What’s up, Erin?”
“Lock the doors and find our weapons.”
Susan’s brow wrinkled in puzzlement. “Our weapons, but….”
“Not now, Susan. Lock the doors and arm yourself.”
She left Susan staring at her in frightened confusion and trotted to the Biohazard Level 4 lab where Lee and Brisbane were suited up working with a live virus sample. They were standing with their backs to her. She slapped the intercom button.
“Lee, Bemis, stop what you’re doing and get out here now.”
Lee turned to face her through the glass partition, holding his umbilical tube with one hand so that he would not become entangled and yank it loose. Lee saw the terror in Erin’s eyes, and without another word, began shambling to the airlock. However, Bemis resisted.
“I’m halfway through inoculating a culture. Give me ten minutes.”
“No, now. We’re under attack.”
He stared at her for a moment, judged she would not joke about something like that, and he followed Lee. It would take ten minutes for the two of them to secure the virus sample, complete the decontamination process and disrobe. She didn’t have time to wait for them or to explain.
“Find Susan when you’re out,” she told them.
She returned to the main lab, glad to see that Susan had gathered the others. Each carried a weapon, a couple of AR15’s and several hunting rifles – not much of an arsenal. The main weapons were stored in the habitat. Like everyone else at Biosphere2, they had attended the mandatory shooting classes, but she doubted any of them would make good soldiers. The careless manner in which Dale Cuthbert held his rifle, he looked as if he would be more dangerous to himself than to an intruder. All of them looked stunned and frightened.
“What’s going on, Erin?” Susan asked.
“Harris and the others are Hunters sent here to spy on us. Elliot thinks others may be coming.”
“Oh God,” Cuthbert moaned, wringing the barrel of his M16 with one hand.
“Buck up, Dale,” Erin scolded him. “Point and shoot, but wait until someone tells you to.”
“Are we safe in here?” he asked.
His eyes darted around the room and settled on the glass door. She had often admired the view outside the door. She had been amazed at how a small rectangle of glass could keep the lab from being too confining. The view of downtown Atlanta from her office window at the CDC was… She shook her head to clear it. She didn’t have time to dwell on the past. She tried to think of a way to reassure Cuthbert, but the truth was that they weren’t safe. If more Hunters came, she knew her group would be of special interest to them. “As safe as anywhere,” she replied.
“You don’t know how good that makes me feel,” Cuthbert replied.
She suppressed a smile. If Cuthbert’s biting sarcasm was still intact, he couldn’t be as frightened as she thought. “Maybe we should move a desk or something in front of the door.” It wouldn’t stop bullets but it might slow an intruder. She thought about the other ways into the Planning Center turned research lab – windows and side doors – and decided not to mention them. She hoped Elliot returned soon. Safe, she added.
* * * *
William Sikes knew he was a hunted man. He had not killed Janis Heath, but someone had gone to great lengths to implicate him in her murder. He knew he would find no sympathy among the frightened residents of Biosphere2. They all hated him and he hated most of them with their petty jealousies and their constant complaints. Given the opportunity, they would lynch him from the highest girder in the rain forest. No, he would not let that happen.
Instinct and fear had compelled him to attack his two escorts and run. He had no other plan but to escape. Maybe he could find out who killed Janis. If not, he had to flee the dome. That prospect disheartened him. In spite of the people, he liked Biosphere2. The glass structure provided shelter, safety, and food, and he didn’t mind the menial labor that much. He was good with his hands, always had been. It was certainly better than living outside with the zombies. He shuddered at that thought.
As a mechanic, he knew Biosphere2 inside and out, knew all the nooks and crannies, the cubbyholes, and the miles of tunnels by heart. He had helped Mace and Vince repair leaks, change wiring, adjust air conditioner units, and reroute effluent lines throughout the entire 135,000 square-feet structure. If he chose to hide, they would never find him, but hiding wasn’t on his agenda.
He hadn’t mentioned it at the meeting, hoping to use the information to his advantage later, but in her anger in the rain forest, Janis had confided to him that she and Harris had a thing going. He had suspected at much, the reason for his fury. She had also hinted that she knew something about Harris that would ensure that Harris took her with him when he left. Was that information secret enough for Harris to kill?
Sikes ducked into a lab and hid behind a cabinet as two men came down the corridor, peeked into the lab, and seeing that it was empty, he moved on. He checked the corridor and made a dash for the agriculture habitat. From it, access to the basement was simple. Just as he opened the hatch located near the aquarium that led to the service corridors beneath the building, an alarm sounded. He smiled. They would never find him now.
* * * *
Above William Sikes’s head, Biosphere2 resembled a disturbed child’s glass ant colony. Armed frightened people poured from the glass structure and raced across the grounds in twos and threes toward pre-assigned positions atop the berm surrounding the complex. Elliot wondered if they were preparing for the same emergency that he was. If so, how had they known about Harris? Of all the eventualities for which they had planned, Hunters were one of the worst. Zombies were mindless killers and posed a problem, only in large numbers. The military was well trained, but stolidly predictable and unimaginative. Hunters, however, had a different agenda. They would be after munies. Anyone else would die at their hands, which included almost half the population of Biosphere2. They would come heavily armed and determined. Elliot wished Vince Holcomb were present. They would need his advice.
The sandbag wall was incomplete, not that it would make much difference against a determined armed assault. Glass houses do not make forts. 175,000 square feet of ½-inch thick glass panels would not stop bullets. He looked up toward the roof of the habitat at the machine guns, wondering why they were still unmanned. The .30 caliber and 50 mm machine guns mounted on the roof of the habitat might give the defenders a slight edge, but only if the battle was brief. A prolonged siege would quickly fray already taut nerves to the breaking point, and nervous, frightened people made mistakes. There were just too many ways to get inside the habitat.
Elliot had been
pleased to see Jeb finally climb out of his melancholy shell at the last meeting. His innate commanding presence had been too long absent. Jeb did not yet realize how much the people around him looked up to him. He, Mace, Renda and Vince were legends in most of their eyes. His troubles with his wife had consumed his time and talents. Now, maybe he and Mace could get some action out of the grossly misnamed action committee.
Activity inside the dome was no less frenetic than outside. People rushed down corridors scarcely wider than those found in WWII submarines. Cases of ammunition stood stacked against the white girder wall of the habitat further congesting traffic. Extra rifles lay in a disordered pile on the floor. Arms and ammunition was not their problem – resolve was. Elliot, at six feet, two inches tall, tried to avoid the narrow, low-ceiling corridors as much as possible, but he needed to locate Mace or Jeb.
He chose the desert habitat dormitory, hoping that mace was there questioning Sikes, though Sikes was not their main concern now. They had converted the desert habitat into additional housing to help alleviate overcrowding by adding an air conditioner ducts and by removing the desert flora. Surrounded by a desert as they were, they saw no need for a desert habitat. Living space was at a premium, the reason so many of the inhabitants wanted to move to the outlying casitas. Two army bivouac tents provided sleeping quarters for sixteen people. Elliot threw back one of the tent flaps and almost collided with Mace as Mace was exiting. He quickly raised his AK47, but lowered it when he recognized Elliot.
“Harris is a Hunter,” Elliot announced, expecting Mace to show surprise.
Mace simply glanced at him and kept moving. “Yeah, I know. Billy told us. Have you seen Harris?”
Elliot shook his head. “No. Did you sound the alarm?”
Mace growled. “No, damn it. Jeb did. I wanted to find Harris and Mendoza quietly, but word got out that Sikes had escaped.”
Elliot shook his head. “Jesus, Sikes is on the loose?”
“Yes, as if we didn’t have enough problems. It won’t take Harris long to find out that Billy Idol has switched sides. He’ll use this commotion to his advantage. In all this confusion, he and Mendoza will be difficult to find.”
