KILLER T

by Robert Muchamore

  He viewed the image. It wasn’t great, but having a few shots on the memory card would help the photographer argument if he got busted. The ideal outcome was to not get busted at all, so Harry crossed the rest of the freeway, hurdled a low fence and found himself in an overgrown patch at the back of a souvenir store wrapped in bright yellow signage.

  Don’t pay crazy strip prices! Fridge magnets $3 for 4, smartphone cases $4, tees from $6 or 4 for $20.

  There were some makeshift shelters in the overgrown scrub between the freeway and the back of the store. The tangle of plants would easily hide a flaked-out zombie and while Harry’s virus mask filtered smells, hundreds of buzzing flies were a sure indicator of filth. It was a relief to reach the rear of the souvenir store without anything squelching underfoot.

  ‘Down on the ground,’ someone shouted.

  Harry jolted and glanced both ways, before realising it came from the front of the store and wasn’t meant for him. When he peeked round the side of the building, Harry saw the headlights of a Vegas Metro police car and a military truck with slatted sides, like the one he’d seen on the freeway.

  Harry could make out zombies sitting on benches in the back of the truck. Up front two female zombies stood in the truck’s headlamps, facing two large men armed with long cattle prods. Their bio-suits were made of extra-thick material and smeared with the body fluids of the zombies they’d thrown in the truck.

  ‘Kneel!’ one of the men ordered. ‘Hands on heads.’

  Harry still had his Nikon swinging in his right hand. He flipped to video mode, starting to shoot as a third rubber suit came round the side of the truck. This one was female and held a device that looked like a police speed gun, the screen at one end reflecting off her plastic visor.

  ‘Can’t you understand, zombie scum?’ one man roared.

  Harry had unconsciously edged along the side of the souvenir store to get closer to the action. He took a shot of the zombie’s agonised face as she got dragged to the back of the truck by her matted hair.

  He realised you couldn’t have an effective quarantine while hundreds of people roamed the streets crusted in bodily waste. But, since most zombies were happy being locked in a cell with regular meals, the brutality of the roundup seemed unnecessary.

  ‘Got one round the side,’ the rubber-suited female shouted. ‘Big heat signature. Gonna be a strong sucker!’

  Harry panned his camera back from the rear of the truck and realised two things. First, the weird detector thing the woman was holding was an infra-red body-heat detector and, second, it was being aimed down the side of the building, right at him.

  53 OLIVE PALM DRIVE

  The Nikon flailed from its strap as Harry spun and ran.

  ‘We’re not going to harm you,’ a loudspeaker on the cop car announced. ‘Step out with hands raised.’

  Harry had made four steps before there was a pop, like a giant champagne cork. The rubber-suited woman had fired an electric stun bolt. Harry felt it glance the back of his calf, but it was at the limit of its range and what remained of its momentum wasn’t enough for the barbed tip to hook his trousers and release its sting.

  Rather than go back to the freeway, where he’d be exposed, Harry charged along the embankment until he reached the back of a mini-mall. He sprinted past a dry cleaner’s, an attorney’s office, a yoga gym and a dollar store with a zombie sprawled in front of its main doors.

  Harry doubted the round-up crew could chase in their thick suits and rubber boots, but he was spooked so he kept running. After a left-right glance – seeing the cop car still parked a couple of hundred yards up the road – Harry sprinted across four lanes, then kept low as he cut down a suburban side street.

  It wasn’t the road he’d planned to use, but the streets were on a grid and having the casino towers at his back gave Harry confidence that he was moving west. A motorbike speared the silence, shooting down the empty road at more than a hundred miles per hour, closely followed by another.

  Harry wondered if they had some mission, or had decided to use the empty roads as a racetrack. A right took him into Olive Palm Drive, a short cul-de-sac with houses fanning off a turning circle at the far end.

  It seemed unusually bright, because everyone was home with the lights on. Harry spotted number eight and imagined Charlie inside, watching TV with her foster family. The front lawns didn’t offer cover and Harry felt exposed as he saw the alleyway leading to a kids’ play area.

  Two masked sisters played catch in their back yard as Harry jogged, wooden fences tight on either side. The little park was shabby, with two out of three swings broken. He recognised the wood and plastic climbing castle from Charlie’s photo. He ducked beneath a wooden ladder and reached into a gap, where a turret was bolted to a bright red tunnel.

  Harry’s gloved fingers touched a plastic food container and it took a hard tug to strip the plumber’s tape holding it in place. The tub was slippery with condensation, and Harry popped it open and got splashed with melted ice, which Charlie had packed around the glass vials to keep the vaccine cool.

  A scuttling sound came from Harry’s left, making him back out and bash his shoulder on a wooden prop. As he glanced around, shocked and with water from the open box trickling inside his shirtsleeve, Charlie stood up at the end of the slide.

  ‘You scared the tits off me!’ Harry gasped.

  She was dressed not to be seen, in dark purple leggings and a black hoodie.

  ‘I was hoping you’d show,’ Charlie said, grinning behind her mask. ‘But when this big muscle guy arrived, I scrambled up the slide.’

  ‘I started doing push-ups,’ Harry joked, pulling his mask away from his face for a moment to catch fresh air.

  Charlie stepped forward and held her arms out wide. ‘I’ve missed you.’

  ‘Me too,’ Harry said, masked face to masked face, each wrapping gloved hands round the other’s dark clothing.

  ‘Crazy times …’ Charlie said as she took a half step back. ‘Everything happening at once.’

  ‘For sure,’ Harry said, nodding.

  ‘Your mods look good. So many guys go overboard.’

  ‘I get told that a lot,’ Harry said, flattered. ‘I mainly got it because of my acne. I’d look in the mirror and hate myself.’

  Charlie nodded thoughtfully. ‘You should inject your vaccine now. Full immunity takes at least a day to build up, but it should improve your ability to fight a virus within hours. I take it you know how to inject yourself?’

  ‘I did four jabs every two hours when I started my mods,’ Harry said, resting the tub on the edge of the wooden turret and rolling his sleeve.

  Besides syringes and vials, Charlie had put five little alcohol wipes in the box. She tore one open, sterilised a patch of skin on Harry’s upper arm, then gave him a jab.

  ‘Nice one,’ Harry said, wishing his mask wasn’t blocking the expression on his face.

  ‘I phoned that attorney, like you suggested,’ Charlie said, as Harry buttoned his cuff. ‘She was helpful. She agreed with Mango’s assessment that I’m looking at three to five years, unless I can trade information on crimes they don’t already know about.’

  ‘Do you have any?’

  ‘Kinda,’ Charlie said. ‘But she’s my best friend, and the mother of my little godson.’

  ‘Awkward …’

  ‘The good news is, the attorney says there’s a decent chance law enforcement is too busy with quarantine to arrest me any time soon. But there’s a downside. Have you heard of SOPA?’

  Harry nodded. ‘The Synthetic Organism Protection Act. Basically, the destruction of all human rights during a quarantine period.’

  ‘That’s the one,’ Charlie said warily. ‘SOPA laws give law-enforcement powers to arrest and hold people in detention, even on the barest suspicion that a suspect is involved in unregistered genetic modification. While quarantine is running, they can charge me under SOPA laws and lock me in a quarantine centre for months, without having to char
ge me, question me, or allow me to see an attorney.’

  ‘That’s messed up,’ Harry said.

  ‘The attorney recommends I make myself difficult to find until the quarantine ends and the Feds lose their emergency powers.’

  ‘You could stay with Matt and me,’ Harry suggested. ‘I can clear the junk out of the spare bedroom.’

  ‘That’s sweet,’ Charlie said. ‘But you’d be risking a charge of harbouring a fugitive.’

  ‘Sounds like a story for Vegas Local,’ Harry noted.

  Charlie smiled behind her mask. ‘I haven’t laid eyes on Matt since he graduated junior high.’

  Harry had been doing the handsome rich-kid thing, sleeping around, acting cocky and having a couple of short-term girlfriends. But none of them felt right like Charlie had. He wanted to pull down his mask and go for a kiss, but somehow he’d morphed back into the anxious fourteen-year-old who’d first met her.

  ‘I’ve got our route home memorised,’ Harry mumbled. ‘It’s longer, but I’m not covering the same ground twice, and I can drop two doses of vaccine at Kirsten’s boyfriend’s place.’

  ‘OK,’ Charlie said. ‘Just let me go in my house and pack a bag. And there’s a stop I have to make along the way.’

  54 IGNITION

  ‘Grab this,’ Charlie whispered, her arm dangling a backpack out of her bedroom window.

  Harry caught it and placed it in the back of the little VW, while Charlie straddled on to the roof. She crabbed over a few rows of roof tiles and Harry grabbed her legs as she dangled over the gutter.

  ‘Can you drive?’ Charlie asked, after he’d put her down. ‘I’ve only had my licence six months, so I’ve never driven after dark.’

  ‘I think we’re better on foot,’ Harry said. ‘With my mods I can run fast. If you tell me what you want from this storage unit, I can go get it on my own.’

  Charlie shook her head. ‘It’s too heavy and I drove all the way to Care4Kids in daylight. If we avoid main roads, things are fine.’

  ‘They might be better organised now,’ Harry suggested. ‘And, no offence, but your car wouldn’t outrun a shopping cart.’

  Charlie tutted. ‘I’m not forcing you to help me, Harry. You can take the vaccines to Kirsten. I’ll grab what I need from the storage unit and we’ll meet at your building later.’

  Harry shook his head. ‘I think we should stick together. So let’s drive.’

  ‘I don’t want a scene with my foster parents,’ Charlie said, glancing towards the house. ‘We need to shift before they see I’m gone.’

  Charlie looked back mournfully as her titchy Volkswagen rolled down the drive and on to the street.

  ‘What’s in this storage unit?’ Harry asked, ignoring a red light at a junction that would normally be clogged with cars.

  ‘Modding equipment,’ Charlie explained. ‘I trusted Mango with all my financial arrangements. I’ve got two grand in emergency cash, but the attorney said the Feds will seize every cent they can lay their hands on. Chances are, Mango has already given them my account details. So I’ll be broke when I need money for a lawyer.’

  ‘Don’t they need to prove you’re a criminal before they freeze your assets?’ Harry asked.

  Charlie shook her head. ‘The attorney said the Feds can freeze any assets they believe are the proceeds of criminal activity. The onus is then on me to show a judge how I earned the money legally. Which, seeing as I’m a seventeen-year-old schoolgirl with no legitimate income, means I can wave my savings goodbye.’

  ‘That blows,’ Harry noted.

  ‘Turn at the next left. I need the third storage unit, but stop by the main entrance so I can make sure nobody’s around.’

  As Harry pulled to the kerb, Charlie reached into the rear seats, unzipped her backpack and pulled out an automatic pistol.

  ‘Where’d you get that?’ Harry gasped as Charlie opened the clip to check that the gun was loaded, then clicked off the safety.

  ‘My foster dad’s dresser.’

  ‘I thought this was an empty storage unit.’

  ‘I doubt anyone will be here,’ Charlie said, ‘but better safe than sorry. When I give the all-clear, back the car in, so we can load up the lab equipment. I just hope Mango didn’t take it home …’

  ‘I don’t like this,’ Harry said, grabbing Charlie’s arm as she opened the passenger door. ‘Let’s get out of here. I can pay your lawyer.’

  ‘I’m not your charity project,’ Charlie said firmly. ‘The equipment gives me power. I could set up my own lab, sell the equipment, or surrender it in return for a lighter sentence. It’s not too late if you want to run to your auntie’s place.’

  ‘Never a dull moment with you,’ Harry joked.

  Harry was scared, but now realised that the combo of brains and danger was why he’d always found her so attractive.

  What’s that thing they say about guys wanting a girlfriend who’s just like their mum?

  Harry couldn’t take his eyes off Charlie’s ass as she strode purposefully towards the locked door of the storage unit. She buried the gun in the front of her hoodie and pulled a set of keys. After unlocking, she rolled a big door far enough to let her car in, then opened the RV and flipped the light inside.

  Charlie was relieved to see the three glowing touchscreens of the new modding machines. She leaned outside to signal Harry, and as he reversed the VW to the side of the RV Charlie unplugged the machines, then grabbed strong trash bags from under the sink and started filling them with glassware and lab equipment out of the kitchen cupboards.

  ‘So this is a modding lab,’ Harry said, poking his head in.

  He’d have loved to take photographs, but Charlie was on a mission.

  ‘Put the machines in the trunk of my car,’ she ordered.

  As Harry made three round trips, Charlie went to the refrigerators in the back room, returning with another trash bag full of chemicals and supplies. Then she plugged the sink and unscrewed the lid on a two-gallon bottle of pure alcohol. Charlie poured two inches of the alcohol into the sink, then worked her way around the RV, splashing the flammable liquid over the dining table, dashboard and driver’s seat.

  ‘Why are you burning it?’ Harry asked.

  ‘The less physical evidence, the more the FBI’s case becomes Mango’s word against mine,’ Charlie said. ‘Plus, this RV cost Mango a hundred grand, and I’m not loving her right now.’

  Harry shook his head wryly. ‘Most girls want dinner and a movie. With you it’s dispose of my homemade explosives, help me burn out a modding lab …’

  Charlie laughed and flipped Harry off, before her next set of orders. ‘Drive the car out, then open the storage unit door fully, so that the oxygen doesn’t run out when this burns.’

  As Harry dealt with the car and the door, Charlie ditched the empty drum of alcohol and took a last walk around, opening the RV’s skylights, windows and the driver’s door. Finally, she reached into a cupboard and cut the rubber hose that ran from a propane cylinder to the hob.

  After jumping the steps, Charlie made sure Harry was behind the wheel of her car.

  ‘Open the passenger door for me,’ she shouted. ‘Ready?’

  Charlie was alarmed by a growing whiff of gas as she pulled the gun out of her hoodie and aimed inside the door where she’d sprinkled alcohol on a nylon cushion. The bang made her jump. The heat of the bullet caused static, igniting the cushion and sending streaks of burning alcohol through the RV’s interior.

  ‘Drive, drive, drive!’ Charlie screamed as she jumped in her car.

  But the car decided to be bossy. ‘Please ensure the passenger door is closed, and passenger seatbelt fastened before hitting the accelerator.’

  ‘Bastard!’ Harry yelled, smashing the steering wheel as Charlie reached for the seatbelt.

  Spreading the fuel through the cabin and opening doors and windows ensured that the RV burnt rather than exploded. But Harry was dazzled by the flames as Charlie’s belt clicked.

  ‘It
’s in!’ Charlie shouted. ‘Why aren’t we moving?’

  The accelerator was limp. Harry looked along the VW’s dashboard as the flames coming off the RV began licking the wooden beams of the storage unit’s roof.

  ‘The battery light is flashing.’

  ‘It was fully charged when we left!’ Charlie protested.

  ‘Must be the fire,’ Harry said, his neck catching the intense heat radiating through the car’s rear window. ‘The car thinks the battery pack is overheating.’

  ‘Are you kidding?’ Charlie gasped.

  ‘Get out and push,’ Harry said.

  But Charlie leaned over the centre console.

  ‘It did this once before on a hot day,’ Charlie said, scrolling through menus. ‘You can reset the sensor, by going into …’

  Charlie flipped on-screen menus as heat expansion blew one of the tires on the RV. The storage-unit roof was now ablaze, including a section directly above the Volkswagen.

  ‘Go now!’ Charlie shouted.

  Harry pressed the accelerator and felt a satisfying whirr from the motor. The battery overheating light started to flash again, but Harry had enough momentum to clear the storage units and turn on to an unlit side road.

  ‘If a police chopper spots these flames, we are so screwed,’ Harry said.

  ‘We’re away from the heat source,’ Charlie said as Harry turned the car off. ‘Just give it a few seconds and we should be OK.’

  A cop siren whooped in the distance while Harry gave the back of the car time to cool down. The flames behind had settled into a steady pattern, but a plume of smoke had erupted, suggesting a partial collapse of the storage unit’s roof.

  ‘Fingers crossed,’ Harry said. He pressed the start button and felt a whirr. ‘And off we go …’

  55 BUST

  Harry drove until the fire was just a plume in distant sky, sticking to side streets, passing the backs of industrial units and strip malls. Keeping slow meant Charlie spotted a checkpoint in time for Harry to avoid it, swinging across four empty lanes and down an alleyway between a motel and a Wells Fargo bank.