Three other rifles swung her way.
2
Jen froze. The hell?
Zeke aimed his pistol at the cop with the shotgun. "Anyone shoots and you get it first. In the face."
The other cops swung their rifles toward Zeke. Howell aimed at them.
"You're outnumbered," a young black cop said. "Might as well drop it."
Daniels and Rodriguez pulled their handguns. "Homeland Security," Daniels said. "The safety of these people is a national security priority."
One of the cops looked at the one with the shotgun. "What do we do, Sarge?"
The sergeant kept the shotgun pointed at Jen. "If you're Homeland Security, then you know the protocol and why we need to follow it."
Mark had his hands up and his mace in his belt. "What protocol is the one where you pull guns on us?"
"Anyone in contact with the reanimated dead has to be put down," the sergeant said. "Anyone who is terminally ill will be put down." He glanced at Mark. "A bullet to the head."
"I thought everything was supposed to be OK back here," Jen said. Mark flashed a frown. Now he's not so sure his family is safe.
"Things are under control," Daniels said. "But it comes at a price. That's why every ambulance has a police backup."
"But what if you're shooting uninfected people?" Zeke said. "Ever think about that?" He blinked, and for the first time Jen noticed the dark bags under his eyes. She'd slept on the plane and assumed the others had, too. Did Zeke stay awake to watch over me?
"Sorry, kid," the sergeant said. "Can't take the chance."
Jen slipped her axe into her belt, the movement causing the sergeant to stiffen. She put her arms up. "I'm not gonna do anything. But let me ask you something."
The sergeant nodded.
Jen gestured to Zeke and Howell. "Put your weapons down."
Howell lowered his pistol. Zeke hesitated, but dropped his arm to his side when Jen glared at him.
"That's better." She turned her attention to the sergeant. "How long is it taking for someone infected with a bite to turn?"
He shrugged. "Couple of minutes."
She looked at her watch. "You've been here for five minutes. She pulled her lower eyelids down. "No yellow. See?"
The sergeant pursed his lips and looked at his men. One of them shrugged. "She's right, Sarge."
"What if it's a new strain?" the sergeant asked. "Could be one that takes longer."
"Strain my ass." Jen walked toward the limo. "I'm out of here. You want to stop me, you'll have to shoot me from behind."
"Wait."
Jen halted and glanced back. The sergeant lowered the shotgun and gestured at the others to do the same. "Stand down."
Jen let out a breath she hadn't realized she'd been holding. Growling came from inside the minivan. "Looks like you have some cleaning up to do."
The sergeant nodded. "Let's go." The cops circled the minivan.
Jen puffed her cheeks and let out a breath. "Can we go now?"
Mark put an arm around her shoulder and led her to the limo. "How the hell do you keep getting away with calling a bluff?"
She gave him a quick hug. "Charmed, I guess."
Rodriguez started the limo and they all jumped in.
A cascade of gunfire came from the minivan as they pulled away.
Broken only by wisps of clouds, the blue sky looked gorgeous as long as Jen was in the air conditioning. I hope the CDC keeps it cool.
The limo pulled onto Interstate 85 and the amount of traffic picked up. Still, it wasn't anything like she'd heard about Atlanta's congestion.
Staring out the window at the vehicles passing by, she nudged Zeke.
"What's up?" he asked.
"Notice all these cars are full? You don't see any with just the driver."
The faux leather seat squeaked as Daniels turned around. "Not only has rationing been ordered, but it's against protocol to have fewer than half the capacity of a vehicle."
"Is it like this everywhere?" Mark asked. "How safe is it?"
Daniels shrugged. "These are national protocols. They're everywhere."
"How about safety?" Mark asked. "Heard anything about Birmingham?"
"Alabama?" Rodriguez asked. "Nothing specific there. There've been a few outbreaks, and only two of them became nasty. One was Dayton, Ohio. Lost a hundred and twenty people before it was brought under control."
"Another in Connecticut took a few dozen," Daniels said. "And you know what the common thread ran through both of these?"
"Let me guess," Jen said. "Protocols weren't followed."
Daniels pointed a finger at her. "Bingo."
They exited onto Route 78, passing pedestrians and bicyclists crowding the sidewalks.
Jen lay back and closed her eyes. She pulled her bloodied shirt away from her chest to get air under it, and it stuck to one side. "Freaking zombie guts. I should do a detergent commercial. 'Just a cup in the wash gets the zombie goop off.'"
She leaned back and drifted off.
Jen woke with a start, her hand going to the axe on her hip. The limo slowed as it approached a gate with a guard shack. Iron bar fencing on a brick base stood ten feet high and separated several high-rise type buildings from the street. The tallest, a concave-shaped silver building covered in windows, glinted in the sunlight.
The limo stopped next to the guard shack and Rodriguez rolled down his window. "These people are here at Dr. Cartwright's request. They have no credentials, so I'm vouching for them."
The guard lifted a piece of paper on a clipboard and peered into the back of the limo. His gaze settled on Howell. "Name?"
"Sergeant Howell."
The guard peered at Mark. "And you?"
"Mark Colton."
The guard nodded as he consulted the clipboard. "You two. Names."
"Jen Reed."
"OK."
"Zeke."
The guard squinted. "Zeke what?"
"Zeke Tripp."
Jen laughed. "Your last name's Tripp?"
Zeke looked hurt. "Yeah. What's wrong with that?"
"Nothing," Jen said, stifling another laugh. "It's just not the name I'd come up with for someone who's so stealthy on their feet."
The guard wrote something on the clipboard. "Good to go. I'll notify Dr. Cartwright you're on your way." He stepped away from the limo and gestured to another guard, who rolled the gate open.
Rodriguez put the limo in gear and drove into the compound. He pulled up to the main doors of the concave building.
Jen followed the agents in and sighed when a blast of cold air brushed her face. "Heaven."
An older guard just inside the door waved them all by. "Dr. Cartwright is waiting for you in her office."
An elevator ride to the eighth floor took seconds, and they stepped out into a carpeted hallway with soft lighting. Jazzy instrumental music played through speakers in the ceiling.
Daniels led them twenty yards down the hallway and into a reception area. A receptionist with a headset looked up and pressed something on her desk. "They're here, Doctor." She nodded and looked at Agent Daniels. "She'll be just a minute."
Thirty seconds later a buzz and a click came from a set of double doors to the receptionist's side. "You can go in," she said.
Rodriguez held one of the doors open and ushered everyone in. A large, spacious room with floor-to-ceiling windows, Cartwright's office was filled with sunlight. Framed artwork hung on one of the walls, while another had pictures and plaques. One that caught Jen's eye showed Cartwright and the President next to each other in what looked like a serious conversation.
From what I've seen of Cartwright, everything's a serious conversation.
Cartwright sat at her desk facing them. She stood. "Jen, good to meet you." She made eye contact with each of the others in turn. "Good to meet you all."
She gestured to a comfy looking sofa and a set of chairs. "Please have a seat."
Jen took one of the chairs, while Howell took the
other. Mark and Zeke plopped down on the sofa.
Cartwright took her seat. "I received the message you passed along at Grand Forks. I have to say, it left me wondering if the message wasn't misunderstood by the airman who communicated it to me. Would you mind filling me in?"
Jen leaned forward, her elbows resting on her knees. "Butler died and came back a leader."
"But a super leader," Zeke said. "Kinda like a top-level Boss on one of my video games."
Cartwright's eyes stayed on Jen. "And so it's true that he controlled a horde that numbered in the millions?"
"It's a fact, Doctor," Howell said. "Threw his hands in the air and every damn one of those things froze in place."
Cartwright rubbed her chin. "That gives me a lot to think about."
Jen fidgeted in her seat. "I'd like you to take my blood so I can go back out there and find Butler."
Mark's eyebrows rose. "I don't think that's a good idea."
Cartwright frowned. "We don't know where he is. Besides, I need you here with me. There's much to be done." She tilted her head forward and peered at Jen over the top of her glasses. "And I need you for more than your blood."
Jen stood. "All due respect, Doctor, but I was there at the beginning of this thing. I lost my Dad, Chris, Doc, and too many other people to count. I want to end it."
Cartwright sighed. "And you will. But as my assistant where you'll do more to end this catastrophe than you could by charging to your death."
Her face softened. "It may make you feel better to go after Butler, but your impact will help many more people if you stay and work with me."
Jen rubbed the heels of her palms into her eyes. Feel like I haven't slept in days.
She took a deep breath and let it out while puffing her cheeks. "OK, Doctor. I'll sleep on it."
Mark stood and stretched. "Come to think of it, I think we could all use a shower, some food, and a good sleep."
Cartwright pressed a button on her desk. "Amy, please send Agents Rodriguez and Daniels back in."
The two agents appeared immediately. "Take them to the hotel and get them settled," Cartwright said.
"Yes, ma'am," Rodriguez replied.
A young woman in a pant suit burst into the room like an eager intern. "Dr. Cartwright. News from the front."
"What is it?" Cartwright asked.
"There are multiple coordinated attacks against Boise, Las Vegas, and Malmstrom Air Force Base in Montana."
"How many?" Zeke asked.
"Tens of millions." The woman turned to Cartwright. "General Loomis said all three locations could fall within a day."
3
Cartwright pointed to the window-length blinds. "Close those. Let's get Colonel Rogers on video at once."
"Ma'am," the woman said, "I'm sure he's tied up with the attacks at the moment."
Cartwright stared at her. There was no anger in her face, but the woman hurried to close the blinds. Cartwright typed on her keyboard and a section of the wall behind her slid over and revealed a fifty-five-inch flat screen. The word "Connecting..." displayed on it.
An older soldier's face appeared on the screen. Silver eagles adorned the collar of a wrinkled uniform shirt. His lower eyelids drooped and his eyes had red blood vessels crossing the white sclera like a lightning strike.
"Dr. Cartwright," he said. "We're in emergency mode—"
"I want details," Cartwright snapped. "Some very important decisions may need to be made based on the situation."
The colonel's shoulders drooped. This guy looks like shit.
"Evacuation of Malmstrom AFB in Montana to Grand Forks AFB is in process. We estimate forty percent of the personnel and eighty percent of the equipment will make it out before the base is overrun."
"Shit," Mark breathed.
Cartwright's expression remained unchanged. "And Las Vegas?"
"It's going to fall." Rogers rubbed a knuckle in each eye. "And it'll be soon. There's a line of traffic heading east all the way to the Arizona border. Hordes have broken off and are flanking the city on the north and south. It's obvious they plan to attack the refugees and encircle the city."
Howell cleared his throat. "What about Nellis AFB?"
"Overrun an hour ago, but we evacuated all personnel and essential resources."
Zeke looked up from studying his fingernails. "What about Area 51? Did you fly the UFOs out of there?"
Jen clasped his forearm and shook her head. "Not the time."
Rogers ignored Zeke. "Boise is fifty-fifty. We've launched constant air strikes from Mountain Home AFB. It seems to have kept the horde at bay for now."
Cartwright sniffed. "Keep me updated, Colonel."
The screen went blank.
"Butler's behind it," Jen said. "I need to find him and finish what I started."
"Don't be foolish," Cartwright said.
"Excuse me?" Heat flooded Jen's face.
Mark turned toward her. "I wouldn't put it that way, but what are you going to do? Just walk through the horde looking for him?"
Zeke slapped the table. "I'm with you, Jen."
Jen sat back and let out a long breath. "I don't see me doing any good here."
"Why?" Cartwright asked. "Because you can't be out there acting like a hero?"
Jen frowned. "Wait a minute—"
"You are the only living person on Earth who received a fully concentrated inhalation of the spores," Cartwright said. "That makes you unique, and a superb test subject to find a cure."
"But we don't even know if that will help," Jen said.
"But if it does?" Cartwright asked. She raised a hand, the thumb and forefinger a half-inch apart. "We're this close to a cure. If you want to do something to stop this scourge, then help us with that."
Jen stared at the floor. She's right. And so is Mark. How the hell would I find Butler without becoming a zombie snack? Still, I'd rather do something more than get poked with needles.
Jen sighed. "Where do I go to donate blood?"
Cartwright gestured to the young woman. "This is Cindy Hirt. Cindy, please escort Miss Reed to the phlebotomy office and bring her back to me when she's done."
"Yes, Doctor." Cindy turned to Jen. "Miss Reed?"
Jen stood. "Lead on."
"I'll go with you." Zeke stepped to her side.
I love this guy. The little brother I never had. "I think I'll be safe in the building. Why don't you stay here? I won't be gone long."
Zeke pursed his lips and nodded.
She followed Cindy into the hallway and onto the elevator, where the assistant put a key in the panel and turned it, then punched the lowest button. Lower Level Four.
The elevator dropped quickly and quietly, stopping at their destination in seconds. The doors slid open with a slight whoosh, revealing a set of double doors with the words "Authorized Personnel Only" stenciled on them.
Cindy took an access card that hung from her hip and swiped it through a reader on the wall. A blip and green light from the reader and Cindy pulled the door open.
The room was thirty feet wide and almost that long. A rack of stainless steel morgue refrigerators lined part of one wall, while two stainless steel autopsy tables sat in the middle of the room, under large operating room lights hanging from the ceiling. Jen squinted. All the refrigerator doors had keyholes. Keeping someone out or something in?
Cindy strode through the room, pushed open a door on the other side, and walked through. Jen gave a refrigerator door handle a tug as she passed it. It didn't move.
She hurried after Cindy and into a hallway with a dozen doors, six on either side. She went to the first door and peeked into the small eye-level window. An old lady lay in a hospital bed with her eyes closed. A respirator mask fitted on her face, her chest rose and fell rhythmically.
What the hell are they doing down here?
She hurried to keep up with the assistant and followed right on her heels as she pushed through a pair of swinging double doors and into a large cavernous room
. Buzzing lights hung from a high ceiling, casting a bright glow that reached into every corner of the room.
Jen stopped in her tracks. Lining both sides of the room were a dozen large cages, each with a snarling zombie inside. As if on cue, they strained at their chains as Jen and the assistant entered.
The assistant glanced over her shoulder and stopped. "They're very secure."
Jen blinked. "I'm not afraid, just surprised."
A door opened at the far end of the room. A balding middle-aged man with a blond handlebar mustache stepped out with a clipboard in his hand. "What do you have for me?" His gaze swung to Jen. "And who is this? Why is she in a restricted area?"
Jen followed Cindy to the man. His white lab coat had "O'Connor" embroidered over the pocket. "I'm Jen Reed. I'm guessing you're the vampire who's going to suck me dry."
The man looked at Cindy then back at Jen before he put his hand out. "Dr. O'Connor. I work with Dr. Cartwright."
Jen shook his hand. "Why don't we get on with this? These zombies are giving me a headache."
O'Connor looked at the zombies as if he'd just noticed they were there. "Of course. I'm so used to them, I've mentally blocked them out." He turned. "Follow me."
Jen followed him and Cindy into the room he'd appeared from. Two other people in lab coats sat at separate tables, one working on a computer and the other peering into a microscope. Shelves of vials and jars, as well as equipment like a centrifuge, lined the counters.
The door closed, cutting off the growls of the zombies.
"Please, have a seat." O'Connor gestured to a blood drawing chair. She sat as O'Connor rustled through drawers, pulling out a plastic open-ended tube with a nasty-looking needle at the end and several glass tubes with rubber at one end. Jen flipped the padded arm of the chair across her lap and rested her arm on it.
"Have you found out where the virus came from?" she asked.
O'Connor froze and glanced at her, then went back to rummaging in the drawer. "We're working on it."
He turned around and wiped down the crook of her arm with a swab. The sting of alcohol fumes made Jen crinkle her nose. "What have you found out so far?"
The Zombie Uprising Series: Books One Through Five Page 46
