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Pestilence Rising

Page 20

by Lea Ryan


  Chapter 19

 

  We spent the first portion of our walk on high alert, checking around corners before continuing on, glancing over our shoulders. Like every room we passed, the security booths were empty, the gates left unlocked.

  “Where did everyone go? Did they abandon ship or what?” Jason asked.

  A common area sat unused with empty furniture and drawn shades. The next open door revealed a conference room with no conference inside. A lacquered table waited for a meeting.

  Caleb stuck his head inside, “Reminds me of the part of the horror movie right before the zombies swarm.”

  “It’s Gideon. He has that effect on people.” For the fifth time in ten minutes, I checked my gun to make sure it was loaded and the safety was off. “This is probably part of his plan. He’s trying to rattle us.”

  “Who's Gideon?” Jason signaled for us to wait to cross a hallway junction, then moved on.

  “My old boss. I used to work for the Center, sort of.”

  The lack of activity on the part of our enemies made me even more nervous. At least when they shot at us, I knew where they were. This anticipation was worse.

  Tina asked, “Doing what?”

  I felt Bree glaring at me. She was waiting for me to say the wrong thing so she could jump down my throat. Her participation in our rescue had nothing to do with any feelings she might have previously had for me. Whatever digs she could get in would be a bonus for her.

  “I would cruise the internet for people like us and get them to admit what they were.”

  “Like how?”

  “They would post on message boards or join groups they thought were secret. Sometimes I had to get to know them better before they would tell me.”

  “He means that he pretended to be their friend. Right, Hunter?” Bree interjected.

  “In a way, but I spent most of my time alone so, I guess part of me wanted to believe we were friends.” I looked over at her. She moved farther ahead of me in a huff.

  Jason changed the subject, “So what might Mr. Gideon have up his sleeve?”

  “Anything.” Celeste thumbed the hammer on the gun in her hands. “He is an evil man.”

  “He'll throw what he has left at us. He doesn't usually do much fighting himself. Doesn't like to be too involved with the dirty work. He used tear gas on me, recently. That was delightful.” My throat itched at the memory of the last time I encountered it, at the temple with everyone screaming and shooting through the smoke. I shook it off, “Getting anything yet, Tina?”

  “Nope. Just stillness. Maybe they're out rounding up the escapees.”

  “Not all of them. Gideon would keep some men for himself.”

  “I'd like to take a couple shots at him for Vic and the mother.” Bree muttered as she poked her gun into an office door. She must have become acquainted with him during my stint in isolation.

  “The mother?” Caleb asked.

  “Her name was Llewyn. She was a cult leader who collected people like us for sacrifice. Long story, trust me.” I cringed because I knew what was coming. I should've been more careful with my wording.

  Bree jabbed her gun into my face, “How dare you! We were not a cult. Do not deny him the truth.”

  “Whoa!” Jason lowered the gun and took it from her hand, “We're all friends here, remember?”

  I said, “Bree, she was crazy.”

  “I know you saw what I saw. They weren't hallucinations. Just because you disagreed with her methods doesn't automatically mean that she has a mental problem. You're the one with the problem. You can't handle what you are, so you hide from it.”

  “Give us a second, will you?” I asked Jason and Celeste.

  Jason complained, “Great, now we have to wait for these two. I'd like to see sunlight on my first day of freedom. We won’t get out of here until midnight at this rate.”

  “We can afford a minute or two.” Celeste countered.

  I pulled Bree into a room - a lounge with a kitchenette that smelled of burnt coffee and microwave dinners. She crossed her arms and sat against the edge of a table. I closed the door but not all the way.

  “Why did you come with us?”

  She shrugged, “To save the others.”

  “I don't buy that story. Did you want to make a point? Take revenge for your brother? What? Give me the real deal or I'm going to stash you in a closet.”

  Her mouth dropped open, “You'd better not if you know what's good for you.”

  “Or what?”

  Bree shrugged and stared at the floor. Somewhere under that bitterness, her sweet nature still existed.

  “Why did you have to kill him? I don't understand why he couldn't be taken prisoner like the others.” She wiped a tear from her cheek.

  “He stabbed me in the back.” I pointed to the spot where I still wore a bandage under my shirt. “Literally. It was either him or me. I chose me.”

  If we spoke in the future, I might go into more detail about what happened when he and his guardian friends beat the crap out of me and then took me to Llewyn for an under the cover of night murder. Right then, I needed everyone who had come with me on board, and I needed them to be armed, which meant trusting her with a gun.

  I also gave a crap about the way she felt. I shouldn't have, given our circumstances. We could easily be enemies.

  “I'm sorry.” I moved closer to her. “If I had a way to end it without killing him, I would have.”

  “What about the mother? She wasn't strong like Vic. You killed her.”

  Llewyn had messed with my head in so many ways. She made me doubt my sanity, tried to kill me more than once. The world was better off without her, but Bree idolized her.

  “Her name was Llewyn, and she was no one's mother.”

  “How can you give up all our potential? We could've been part of something bigger than ourselves. What if we can't resurrect the Divine Ones without her?”

  I could only hope.

  “I want you to forget about that whole business with Maructe and Ekash. No good can come of their resurrection.”

  “Forget them? We are them. I can't just forget.”

  “What do you think would happen if Maructe did come to life? He could spread disease on a whim, probably on a grand scale. He's a danger to humanity.”

  More tears brimmed in her eyes, “What has humanity ever done for me?”

  I put my arms around her and held her close, “You don't need Maructe or Llewyn or Vic.”

  “They were the only family I had. What am I supposed to do without them?”

  “Stick with me. Maybe we can find some direction together.”

  Jason announced, “I am officially walking away in ten seconds. Nine, eight...”

  She let me lead her from the room by her hand.

  “Finally! Jesus. I thought we were going to grow old out here.”

  I took Bree's gun from Jason and handed it back to her, “You aren't going to shoot me, right?”

  “Probably not today.” She smiled.

  Confidence grew in us the farther we moved without being attacked. I started to wonder if maybe they really had abandoned ship. Having the place all to ourselves removed much of my fear of it.

  We came to a makeshift infirmary. Beds outfitted with medical equipment lined the walls. There were no curtains between them, no walls to block the view of patients from passersby in the hall.

  Breed commented, “So much for privacy.”

  Such was Center life. Nothing was really your own, not even your body. To them, we were animals they were tasked with corralling.

  A metal object clanged against the floor in the next hallway. We ran toward the sound. A terrified man in scrubs fumbled with a door and then disappeared behind it. He had dropped a medical tray of surgical instruments without bothering to pick it up.

  “The doctors are hiding.” Caleb said.

  “They're all hiding.” I envisioned doctors and nurses, office personnel, janitors, huddled befo
re security monitors displaying transmissions from cameras following our every move. The quiet was an illusion.

  “Should we go after him?” Jason looked almost longingly at the door. Our mission had grown too dull for him.

  “Just let him go. He wasn't armed.”

  The clink of glass hitting the floor came from behind us. I turned, looking past my group to a cracked hole in the pane.

  “Everybody get down!” I shouted as several more bullets pierced the glass. We dropped and crawled to a spot beneath the windows.

  “Are we okay? Did anyone get hit?”

  “I think my head hurts.” Caleb stared at a splotch of blood on his hand.

  Tina, who sat on the other side of him, gasped. Her face paled like she might faint.

  “Jason, take care of it.” I motioned for Bree and Celeste to cover them on one side. Tina and I would watch the other direction.

  “You’re lucky.” Jason said, “If that shot had flown in a hair to the left, your ass would be grass. I can't heal the dead. Must be an inexperienced gunman out there. Be thankful.”

  “I am,” Caleb’s face was slack with terror. The pistol rattled in his trembling hands.

  “Guards are coming. Ten seconds.” Tina warned.

  “Which way?”

  She pointed down the section of hall the two of us faced. We had nothing to hide behind. If we went back the way from which we'd come, we risked another round from the snipers. We could run back to the infirmary, but there were windows there, too. The only path that seemed acceptable was onward, closer to the high security area.

  “What's the plan?” Jason wiped Caleb's blood from his hand onto his pants.

  “A suggestion that doesn't open us up to snipers would be extremely helpful.” We wouldn't get that lucky a second time.

  “Maybe we could rush into them shooting.” Jason offered.

  Bree asked, “Ravaging?”

  “Tina isn't one of us. It will affect her.”

  “Do it. Don't worry about me.”

  Caleb said, “You've already been hit today, back in the basement. You'll be more susceptible if we hit you again. If Jason can't bring you back, you could die.”

  “Actually, she's been through three ravages so far today. Is there any way we can better protect her?”

  “Not that I know of. I've just seen that the effect gets worse. Let's just say the family dog didn't appreciate my practice when I was a kid.”

  “Five seconds.” She updated us. “We have Jason.”

  “No, Caleb's right. I don't want to risk it. Ravaging has to be our absolute last line of defense. Celeste, you and I will rush in shooting. Jason, stay with Tina and the others. If I don't make it out, go ahead with the rescue plan.”

  Everyone agreed. It wasn't a great strategy, but it was something.

  The two of us remained bent below the windows as we rushed into impending danger. Celeste told me to stay behind her. I was happy to do so, although trying to see around her wings was a challenge. We were approaching the back of the building, where the hall made a left. I could tell already that the lights around the corner were off.

  When we were a couple of yards away, a metal canister rolled into view. My stomach dropped into my gut. Tear gas or something worse, and all I could think was not again. Anything but that.

  Celeste didn't even hesitate. She stuck her arm around the corner and started shooting past the growing fog.

  Gas swirled around me. Somehow, even though I was doing my best not to breathe, I could taste it. I stifled the urge to gag.

  Muzzles flashed in the dark. I couldn't tell how many men were in there. A bullet whizzed by. Kneeling, I plastered myself against the wall, covered my face with my arm and prayed they couldn’t see any better than I could, which was not really at all. I turned to see how Celeste was faring. She had vanished.

  There were a couple of hard thump sounds. A man with a cracked gas mask landed face-down in front of me. I aimed my gun into the darkness once more. I didn't want to shoot randomly for fear I might inadvertently hit Celeste.

  A gloved hand grabbed me by my shoulder to haul me up. I was face-to-face with a mask. His other hand raised a gun to hit me. I put my pistol where I estimated his jaw was and pulled the trigger. He jolted back, blood splattering. The gunfire paused. The hiss of tear gas fell silent.

  I managed to cough out her name, “Celeste?”

  The urge to hack the toxin from my lungs overwhelmed me, and I went to my hands and knees, dropping my weapon as I went. My body convulsed so violently with the effort to expel the toxins from my body that I was sure they had attacked with something more potent than tear gas.

  From the thinning fog, a shadow emerged to land a crushing blow to my face. Blackness. Shouting. I still couldn't breathe. Gunfire erupted above me, combat boots all around, people running. I reached for wakefulness only to tumble back into the void. I forced my eyes open to blazing pain and a warped version of a ceiling and the walls meeting it. I tried to say Celeste's name, but fell back, back onto the cool tile floor.

  Lights flickered on miles above my head.

  Jason loomed over me, “I don't know. I think he looked better the other way.”

  The pain dissipated. I sat up. The tear gas was gone. Bodies of guards lay all around. Blood puddled beneath them and splattered the walls.

  Celeste sat next to me, catching her breath. She cradled her arm.

  “What happened?”

  She replied, “The plan worked, sort of.”

  “How long was I out?”

  “Long enough for us to finish your job and for me to fix the place where that guy,” Jason pointed to the dead guard lying on the floor next to me, “smashed in part of your skull. I'm pretty sure he crushed the upper portion of your left eye socket. What did it feel like?”

  “Like he knocked my head off. Celeste, you good to move?”

  She nodded, “I may move a bit slower for a while. I can get through it.”

  Jason offered his hand to pull me to my feet, “She did most of the work, just so you know.”

  “She usually does.”

  Celeste smiled over her shoulder at me.

  No one else our side had suffered any injuries with that round of fighting. However, nearly fifteen men were killed.

  The aftermath of the violence nauseated me. The bloodshed, the body count was eating away at my conscience. I never had a killer instinct. I made the avoidance of conflict almost a mantra in my old life, not just because of the possibility I would inadvertently cause harm just by losing my temper. I was subjected to enough negativity when I was growing up. I wanted no part of a fight. Battling the Center went against my grain.

  Luckily, we encountered no more enforcers before we found the door to the high security area. We probably could've identified it without using the map to confirm we were in the right place. It was a thick, steel number outfitted with both a hand scanner and a retina scanner for the lock. Celeste moved forward to inspect the door. She brushed her hand on the metal surface.

  “I can't force this open. It's too big.”

  Jason threw up his hands in exasperation, “You got the boiler room door. How much more difficult could this be?”

  “What if we shoot this lock off?” I leveled the pistol at the retina scanner.

  “No!” Tina stopped me. “The lock is three cylinders that act as a deadbolt. If you destroy the scanners, there's no way to open the door.”

  “That’s right, scum. Your rampage ends here.” Gideon's voice came over the intercom.

  I addressed the security camera near the door, “We just want to get our people. Open the door.”

  His laughter echoed in the halls, “Do you have any idea how much damage you’ve done? How long replenishing our security forces will take? You're a menace, and as soon as Owen and the men we have left finish recapturing the fugitives outside, they're going to come in here and shoot to kill.”

  “You tried that. It didn't work. I should say t
he guys who took orders from you tried. Not in the mood to use the hands-on approach, princess?”

  “I've been watching you. I have enough sense to know when to keep a low profile.”

  I asked Tina, “Can you search for someone who can get us through this door?”

  She nodded, “I'll try.” After seconds of concentration, she opened her eyes. The expression she wore was one of uncertainty.

  I asked, “What is it?”

  She glanced at the security camera and then pulled me away. She whispered, “That man talking to you on the intercom...”

  “Gideon. He's my old supervisor.”

  “I found him in a room with security monitors.”

  “Where?”

  She pointed around the corner to the right. Celeste and I looked. Down the hall was a green door.

  She asked, “He's in there?”

  “Yes.”

  “Can he unlock the door to the high security room?”

  “Probably.”

  She strode into the hallway with no fear of the snipers or any traps Gideon may have set. We went after her with more caution than she had demonstrated, keeping low and scanning our surroundings continuously as we moved. After a quick assessment, Celeste tried the knob. It was locked. She turned to the rest of us standing behind her.

  “He will shoot. Are you ready?”

  We aimed our guns. Celeste kicked twice, ripping the door from the frame. Gunshots erupted from within the room.

  “Don't kill them!” I shouted over the din. I figured Nigel was with Gideon because he was almost always with Gideon. I hadn't seen him among any of the crews we tangled with previously.

  Celeste ducked inside, and we heard a series of thuds as she disarmed them. Seconds later, she emerged holding a squirming Gideon by the back of his jacket. Nigel came out on his own. Caleb twisted Nigel's arm behind his back to restrain him.

  “Ow. Not necessary.”

  Celeste hauled Gideon back toward the door to the high security area, slamming him into the wall when he struggled. The sight of him getting manhandled brought joy to my spirit. She forced his face to the retina scanner and slapped his palm on the hand scanner. The light over the display turned red.

  “Do it right.” She pulled his head back and thrust it forward again.

  “Jesus, you're going to crush my freakin' eye.”

  “I will crush more than that if you do not cooperate. My patience with you ended days ago.”

  “You aren't very compassionate for an angel.”

  “Gouging out his eye and chopping his hand off would make this whole process easier.” Jason suggested.

  Gideon cast a horrified look at me, then went back to the scanner. The light over the display lit green, and the locking cylinders retracted. This was it. All we had to do was go in and release the prisoners from holding. Celeste shoved him aside where Jason caught him.

  Gideon grabbed my arm, “You need to think about what you're about to do. These anomalies are in high security containment for a reason. They've either committed crimes or proven themselves to be a threat to the general public in some other way. They're the bad ones.”

  I pulled away from him, “I have no reason to believe anything you say.”

  The high security area was a long room with glass-front cells on two sides. Row stacked upon row in a corridor reminiscent of prison movies, complete with iron catwalks. The place smelled weirdly antiseptic. I approached the nearest cells. Each had a cot, a toilet, a sink, and a shower stall that offered little in the way of privacy.

  My fellow anomalies watched us enter. They looked haunted, gaunt, depressed, like animals in a bad zoo. There were men and women, young and old. Most of our people were here. I could tell by the number of cells visible to us.

  Gideon would've put me there with the rest of them. Witnessing the conditions made the threat even more offensive. It wasn't much better than a death sentence.

  I had to admit that some of them looked a bit rough around the edges - a grizzled biker-type guy with thin gray hair and a flaming skull tattoo on his neck. A punk with a buzz haircut gnawed on what was left of his fingernails while eying Tina like he wanted to eat her for breakfast. He rocked back and forth on his cot eagerly.

  “Which ones have committed crimes?”

  “Against nature? All of them.” Gideon broke free of Jason's grasp, which didn't matter. We had the door open. He wasn't armed. There was really nothing he could do to stop us.

  “What you consider dangerous and what I consider dangerous are two different things. I guess I should just let all of them go, then.”

  At those words, every caged anomaly within earshot approached the fronts of their cells. The punk practically jumped out of his skin. A too-skinny girl in the cell closest to me put her fingers on the glass between us.

  “No, don't.” Nigel cut in, “Some of them are more dangerous than others. That ravager,” He pointed to the punk, “murdered his mother and his two sisters and burned their condo and the neighbor's condo to the ground.”

  “He stays. Bree, could you hop on that computer?” I pointed to a terminal on the section of wall right next to the first cell. Monitors displayed some of the prisoners, a game of solitaire, what looked like a calendar, and one offered a command line interface with a blinking cursor. “We'll do a case by case rescue.”

  “Are you kidding? We're dead lucky we made it this far. The rest of security will be here at any moment.” Jason peered into the hall.

  “Go if you want. You've done more than enough. That goes for all of you.”

  “We'll watch the door.” Caleb moved to stand with Jason. No one took me up on the offer of leaving.

  Nigel told Bree, “I'm familiar with the most dangerous people. I'll assist you.”

  “Traitor.” Gideon muttered like a spoiled child.

  “Better than us opening all the doors, Gid.” I looked over to Bree, “Unlock this one.” I motioned to the cell containing the skinny girl.

  The door gave a clank, and slid open.

  “You aren't dangerous, right?” I asked her.

  Wide-eyed, she vigorously shook her head no.

  “Good deal. I need the space for someone who is.” I pushed Gideon toward the cell.

  He resisted, “Oh hell no, you don't.”

  “Hell yes, I do.” I pushed him inside. “It's about time you got a taste. Don't worry, your buddies will come along and let you out eventually.”

  At the computer, Bree manned the keyboard while Nigel explained the various high risk classifications.

  “Level 1s have the potential for violence because of their lack of control over their abilities, but they haven't necessarily displayed any violent tendencies.”

  Bree ran a report listing prisoners, sorted by their level classifications. The vast majority of them were part of that category, which meant that most of the anomalies being held weren't guilty of anything but being different. The list went on for several screens. My blood ran hotter with each screen she scrolled past.

  “I want them all out.”

  “I can unlock the doors from here. All they have to do is walk.”

  “Do it.”

  A click of the mouse sent forth a symphony of clanks accompanied by echoes. It was the sound of freedom, but no one moved. Catwalks remained empty. Had they become so docile? The thought sickened me.

  I spotted an intercom microphone nearby, picked it up and pressed the button, “Testing.” My voice boomed from overhead speakers. “If your door opened, you can come out. We're here to free you.”

  The delay between my announcement and movement on their part caused me to wonder whether the doors had malfunctioned. Maybe no one was willing to leave. Maybe they feared further punishment, a downgrade to Level 2 or 3. What would that entail?

  Then, one of them emerged and a second followed and soon, a bunch of them appeared from somewhere around a corner. They all wore jumpsuits similar to the ones I'd seen the low risk detainees wear, but thes
e were cobalt blue. A sea of blue. They filed down the catwalk stairs, out the door.

  “Maybe one of us should go with them.” Jason said as they walked by.

  As timid as they'd been moments prior, they didn't seem eager to await our direction. They passed us, talking, laughing, hugging. They weren't afraid.

  “They'll be okay.” I decided they didn't need us anymore.

  There were so many - ravagers, pushers, healers, psychics like Tina, whatever else - all the guns in the city couldn't have contained them, not if they stuck together like we had. We created an army by opening doors.

  I caught Bree smiling admiringly up at me from the desk chair. If anything made up for my transgressions against her loved ones, this liberation was it. We watched the migration for a couple of minutes before facing the computer once again.

  Nigel went on, “Level 2s are more questionable in terms of behavior. They've been caught committing petty crimes - stealing or other mischief. We have some addicts in the mix.”

  “Doesn't sound like too much danger there.”

  His brow furrowed, “Depends. Imagine a crack addict with the ability to ravage. He gets riled up; he can afflict an entire neighborhood.”

  “Good point.”

  Where do we draw the line? Everyone awaited my answer. I had never intended to make these kinds of decisions. Barking orders during combat came relatively easily compared to passing judgment on who should be allowed to go free.

  I put my hands on the desk and leaned forward to get a better view of the monitor, “Can we tell who's done what?”

  Bree replied, “I can open each file, but we have fifty all together. Reviewing them could take a while.”

  We were pushing our luck remaining there for so long.

  “Do you see any names you know from the compound?”

  More scrolling, “Yes, some.”

  “Let them go.”

  “Gladly.” The next keystrokes were made with gleeful flourish.

  “You said you knew which anomalies were the worst. Tell me who should stay.” I looked to Nigel again for answers. Trusting him was not an ideal course of action, but I could practically feel gunmen moving in on us. The rest of my team exhibited a similar level of anxiety over our delay. Jason and Caleb fidgeted at the entrance to the wing. Even Celeste seemed agitated.

  Nigel crossed his arms, “How about a deal? We keep the drug addicts, the mentally disturbed and the murderers and attempted murderers. You get everyone else.”

  “And you just happened to know who they are off the top of your head?”

  “Yes.”

  “How do the rest of you feel about that?” I asked the others, Celeste especially. She nodded.

  Jason piped up from his position at the door, “We feel like we need to get the hell out of here. In the next sixty seconds, I'm done. I won't be the schlub who got collared because he hung out longer than he should have.”

  “Do it.” I said.

  I backed off to give Nigel and Bree room to work, and they did so quite efficiently. Minutes later, we heard another round of opening doors. Unlike the first wave, these prisoners didn't give anyone a chance to think twice about their release. They of the yellow jumpsuits bolted, down the stairs from the catwalks, down the central corridor, some of them high-fiving Jason and Caleb as they exited. The group was less than half the size of the first.

  Nigel turned from the computer to address me, “None of the Level 3s are fit for release. They have all taken a life or caused irreparable harm.”

  I asked Bree, “How many Level 3s are there?”

  “About twenty. He's right, Hunter. I spot checked some of their files. They're very bad people.”

  “Good enough for me. I vote we bail.” Jason stepped outside the door. Caleb went with him.

  “Ok.” With that, without giving each person a chance like I would've liked to, I handed them what was probably a life sentence in confinement. I felt like a giant asshole. “Come on, Nigel. You have to get in the cell with Gideon.”

  “Fine bit of appreciation.” He crossed his arms.

  “I'm going to hazard a guess that the only people who know we're in here are you and Gideon. Otherwise, we would've had security breathing down our necks by now. I'm going to ask politely before I drop this civility we've developed. Pretty please, with a cherry on top, will you get into the cell with Gideon?”

  He clenched his fists at his side and stormed over. Bree unlocked the door. Celeste stood nearby to insure neither of them made a run for it.

  Gideon smacked the glass as he spoke to me, “Don't you dare think this is the end of our dance, Tomlinson. I won't stop until you're standing where I am now. I swear on my mother's grave.”

  I clucked at him disapprovingly, “Your mother's grave? That's not very nice at all.”

  Nigel flopped down on the bed to await his release. He lay back and laced his fingers behind his head, and I swore I detected a twitch of a grin.

  “Thanks, Nige. I appreciate your good sense.”

  He raised two fingers in a sort of wave.

  Across from us, the punk in the cell, one of the Level 3s who didn't get released leaned against the glass. Our eyes met. He made a throat cutting gesture with his thumb across his neck. He licked the inside of the door.

  “Yeah, that's exactly why you're staying.”

  I wanted to thank him for removing any doubt I may have had about my decision to leave them in Center custody.

  The six of us dashed down the hall, cheering and whooping all the way. Jason fired off a couple of victory rounds but was quickly discouraged from the reckless behavior by several members of our party. We talked about going out for drinks and shared ideas about what we would do with our newfound freedom. Caleb and Tina talked about leaving the country for some tropical destination, not a bad idea.

  We stuck to the stairwells, afraid that the elevator might somehow trap us inside. We would have to go through a maintenance garage to get to the west parking lot where, if our good fortune held out, a getaway driver and a van would be waiting. We had taken so long getting out that I had no idea what we might find out there.

  No one guarded the maintenance garage. Gleaming, black cars and SUVs in various states of repair sat in mechanic bays. I stopped at a pegboard on which hung key rings on hooks. They were marked with numbers.

  “Who wants a car?”

  The escapees each snatched a set of keys. I took one in case my escape plan was compromised.

  “We can use the key fobs to find which cars they go to.” Bree jingled the keys in her hand.

  I told them, “They all have GPS tracking. I recommend you exchange them for different transportation as soon as possible.”

  “Gladly!” Caleb said, “I do not have a fond memory of the truck they brought me here in. Handcuffs for days. A couple of beatings. Dicks.”

  “They're outside.” Tina stopped us, “Several enforcers. Snipers. In the parking lot.” While her ability was helpful, she was killing the freedom high.

  “No chance in hell they're stopping me now.” I bolted into bright sun that warmed my face. I had been inside far too long.

  People ran everywhere, our people in their jumpsuits, doctors, nurses, Center security. A man, a healer, I had seen at the compound lay in blood from a bullet hole in his head.

  A figure stood out in the crowd - a broad-shouldered professional wrestler-sized commander I recognized. Owen. He turned as if he sensed I was behind him. He brought up his gun - a chrome-plated magnum that glinted in the daylight. He spoke into a radio on his shoulder.

  “Snipers, hold fire.”

  My crew came to a halt behind me.

  “We just want to go.”

  “You could've worked with us. You murdered my friends today. Those men had families.” His voice strained with rage.

  “We didn't ask to be brought here. We were all abducted, every one of us. Tell me you wouldn't have done the same thing if our situations were reversed.”
r />   Muscles in his jaw flexed as he clenched his teeth. He was weighing his options. He didn't want to kill me; I could tell. We fought together to quell a threat that was greater than both of us. Guys like him didn't forget that. After what I'd done in our effort to escape, what the people I led had done, he needed a reason to let me go.

  The radio on his shoulder let a burst of static and then a voice said, “Sir, we have the primary targets in our sights. We are awaiting your order to execute.”

  Jason spoke to Owen from behind me, “If anyone shoots, I'll ravage this whole city block.” He couldn't really follow through on that threat because he was a healer. What he was doing was tossing out an idea.

  “Me, too. If anyone shoots, I'm ravaging everybody.” Caleb picked up on the plan.

  Bree added. “I'll do it, too.”

  “We all will.” Tina offered.

  I stared into my double reflection in Owen's aviator sunglasses. I needed to give him more. The threats weren't enough. How many snipers did he have? Two? Three? More? Maybe he had enough to take us all down at once. I needed to appeal to him in a different way.

  “Whether or not you kill me, there are more people like us out in the world. I knew well enough to take care of Llewyn before she gained too much power. Would you sleep easier at night with me watching for people like her? Or would you rather kill me here and have no one who knows what to do or how to handle a similar situation? In some ways that you probably can't see right now, I'm your ally.” It was probably the most ludicrous thing I could have said. Never mind all the guards we just killed. I'm your friend!

  “Sir?” The sniper's voice over the radio practically snapped with tension.

  Owen kept his eyes on me as he pressed the button to respond, “Stand down.”

  “But, sir.”

  “Stand down.” He repeated the order in a firmer tone of voice. Then to me, he said, “Go. You screw up; I’ll make hunting you down my personal responsibility.”

  I saluted, and we were off once again. Celeste led the way to the white van outside the fence surrounding the parking lot. I threw open the passenger side door to find Teag in the driver's seat. I could barely believe what I was seeing.

  “Teag?”

  “Took you long enough. I've been sitting here forever.”

  “Not that I'm complaining, but why? Management is going to be pissed.”

  He shrugged, “What else am I doin'? I never liked them anyway. This feels better, somehow, with the misfits. Besides, if the last week is any indication, you need me.”

  The side door slid open, and Celeste hopped in, so did the rest of the team, including Bree. They took seats wherever they could fit among Teag's surveillance equipment.

  “Ooh, there's my sexy angel.” Teag said, “My heart ached in your absence.”

  A hint of amusement played across her lips.

  I asked, “What are you guys doing?”

  “I decided I want to come with you.” Bree offered the response cheerily and tossed the keys she'd grabbed onto the sidewalk.

  “Did you see the lunacy in that parking lot? I'm not risking my life to look for the specific car that goes with these keys when you have a perfectly good van.” Jason scratched the back of his head with the barrel of his gun. “I don't really know where I'd go, anyway.”

  Tina eased it from his hand, “I'm not sure this is a great toy for you.”

  “All of you feel that way?”

  They nodded, looking almost pitiful. The worst part was that I didn't even know where I was going. I would make a quick trip to my apartment to see if any of my personal belongings remained. After that, who knew? I was getting ready to inform them of that information when Michael jumped into the van.

  “What's up, guys?” He yanked the door closed behind him.

  “Hey, bro. Good to see they didn't round you up.”

  “Not today. There's a news crew out front. They're filming people leaving. I told them everything, about us, about the Center. Everyone is going to know.”

  Caleb said, “That could be bad. The world is filled with narrow-minded people.”

  “No worries. I have an idea for anybody who wants in.” Michael clapped me on my shoulder.

  Teag pulled the van away from the curb. We rolled slowly through the crowd and accelerated when we hit a section of road that was clear of pedestrian traffic. I relaxed back in the seat for a moment to let the feeling settle in. We were free. I put down the window to feel the fresh air against my face.

  My breath caught when I spotted the Center SUV in the rear view mirror. I swallowed the knot in my throat.

  “Still got those guns?”

  “What's up? Teag checked his mirror. He squinted, “Dude, those aren't guards.”

  I looked again. People wearing jumpsuits occupied the cab.

  Jason, who had risen to look out the back window, said, “There's a couple of them. They're following us.”

  I told Michael, “I hope when you said 'anybody who wants in', you really meant anybody. We've hooked some tagalongs.”

  “Yeah, I did mean anybody. We'll be just fine.”

 

  Epilogue, Two Weeks Later

 

  I knew the day of Celeste's departure had arrived when I found her watching the sunrise from the edge of the field behind the house. I observed her for a while, from the window of the second floor of the farmhouse. Every so often a breeze from the southwest would catch the feathers in her wings. She was ready to fly.

  She ended up staying longer than I thought she would. After all, she'd accomplished her mission. My life as it stood then would not have been possible without her.

  We went to Michael's farm after leaving the Center behind. Many of our fellow anomalies followed. Some of them had quit their jobs and donated all their resources to Llewyn's cult. Others were in Center custody so long, they had no way to support themselves, nowhere to go.

  Using money he'd saved from his days as a faith healer, Michael bought the house and the property across the street, the one in which the girls I'd seen playing in the yard lived. That left no one around for a couple of miles. No one bothered us. No one cared what we did out there in the middle of nowhere.

  The combined properties consisted of several acres of farmland and some woods. We had plenty of room to roam and build additional housing. About twenty people had opted to come with us. The land wouldn't go to waste.

  Talk of Llewyn was almost nonexistent. With the help of some distance and an opportunity to belong to a family without having to sacrifice one's life, people all but forgot about her and Maructe and Ekash. They became the nightmarish memory no one wanted to bring up.

  Days after our escape, Michael, Jason, a couple others and I made a trip to what was left of the compound. The doors were left off the hinges, so getting in was easy. I wanted to burn the building, but Michael talked me out of it for fear the nature preserve would catch fire. Instead, we made a bonfire in the back to destroy every book, every piece of paper we could find, every computer. As far as written records went, the place never existed.

  We also discovered Llewyn's living quarters connected to the indoor nature room. She had lived in luxury, bamboo floors, posh king-sized bed surrounded by once meticulously kept plants like orchids and bonsai trees. The stone walls were marked by a pair of waterfalls on either side of the bed.

  We burned her clothes in the fireplace and carried larger items out to the bonfire on the back lawn. My goal was to purge as much of her from the Earth as I could.

  The morning of Celeste's departure, I found Bree at the kitchen table discussing a plan for crops with Max and Greg. She still got up before me every morning. I kissed her on the cheek. I was happy to have them all there. They were some of the good ones.

  Bree and I were moving past our experiences. She let go of Llewyn and even Vic, the fact they weren't good people helping her to go in the right direction. We weren't exactly together, but we would be, when the dust settled. I woul
d be patient for her.

  “Coffee's up. We got some donuts.” She informed me without missing a beat in their lively debate about irrigation.

  I poured a cup of coffee, grabbed a glazed donut and headed out to the back porch. Teag stood at the top of a ladder, bolting a security camera near the door. I almost knocked the ladder over as I exited.

  “Watch it.”

  “Sorry!” I squeezed by him to descend the steps.

  Not long after we started really moving in, I asked him why he would he leave his life behind. He wasn't an anomaly. He couldn't work at the Center anymore, obviously, but now that their secret was out, he wasn't in any danger. Management had far larger problems than a rogue techie. He would just shrug and go on about his business. I never really got a straight answer.

  I put him in charge of our security system. Thanks to him, we had monitors everywhere. He had also hacked into the same satellite the Center used for long-distance surveillance. We would know if someone was coming before they got anywhere near our homestead.

  The Center itself wouldn't be a problem unless we got out of hand. I had spoken to Owen, and we agreed to some terms. Management approved of our rural sanctuary idea. They would probably monitor us when they really felt the need. But they also knew we would defend ourselves. I gave them my word that we would work with them to subdue any situation that might turn into another Llewyn problem. No one wanted that to happen again.

  I walked up next to Celeste, “Today is the day, huh?”

  She nodded, tears in her eyes, “I want some waffles before I go.”

  “No waffles in Heaven?”

  She laughed, “Not yet.”

  “I'll take you.”

  We sat at a booth for two in the town diner and talked about all that we'd been through together since that bizarre moment she landed in my living room. We laughed about her learning to drive, a skill she would probably never use, given that she could fly again. She said she was proud of me. I was proud of her, too. We'd come so far.

  I had gotten used to having her around. I wasn't sure if I could even function in this new life without her. A world without the Center but also without Celeste. How could that place exist?

  “The others will expect you to lead them.” She told me.

  I shook my head, “I'm not sure I'm fit to lead myself.”

  “Yes, you are. You should have seen yourself at the Center. You're very good in a crisis. You'd make a very effective guardian angel.”

  “If you say so.”

  Later, we stood together in the gravel road in front of the farm house. She had already said goodbyes to Michael and the others. There were hugs all around. Bree cried, despite the fact that she didn't like her at first.

  I started to get choked up as I said, “I don't even know how to adequately thank you. No matter what I said or did, it would never be enough.”

  “You saved my life.”

  “You saved mine more.”

  She relented, “Maybe we saved each other.”

  I wanted to tell her that she couldn't leave, but doing so would've been useless. She had no choice. I had no choice but to let her go. She threw her arms around me in a hug.

  “Stay out of trouble.” She said.

  “I’ll do my best. Stop by if you're in the neighborhood.”

  She grinned, “I will do that.”

  Celeste stepped away from me and waved. Then she crouched, spread her wings, and launched into the air. In a matter of seconds, she was gone.

  I turned back to the house and toward the future.

 

 

  End Pestilence Rising

  * * * * *

  Note from the author:

  Thank you for reading Pestilence Rising! I hope you enjoyed reading my book. If you did, I have a second hope that you will consider posting a review.

  Remain awesome, my friends.

  - Lea Ryan

  www.LeaRyan.com

  Other titles by Lea Ryan

  What the Dead Fear

  Babylon Dragon

  Destined for Darkness

  Devil in the Branch

  Lair of the White Wyrm

  Like Clockwork and a Tangled Mind

 


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