Death Squad (Book 3): Zombie Nation Page 9

  Hawk voiced no opinion. It wasn’t like it mattered.

  The pinching sensation returned with a vengeance. He flinched beneath its wrath.

  “You’re in pain?” Dr. Archer said. “I thought you couldn’t feel pain?”

  “I can’t. But I can still feel the effects of it.”

  “Is it the arms? I thought the process went smoothly. It’s often the simple operations that present the most difficulty.”

  “No. It’s not that. It’s. . . something else.”

  “What? Your legs? If you get pain, you should tell me. You don’t need to sit there in pain all day.”

  “It’s not my legs.”

  “Then what is it?”

  Hawk looked away. He still didn’t feel comfortable discussing it with her.

  “If you don’t tell me, there’s nothing I can do about it, is there?” she said.

  “There’s probably nothing you can do about it anyway. Or even if there is, you won’t do it.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “I wanted you to take Joe out of here.”

  “I can, but I’ll have to replace him.”

  “Fine. Then I won’t tell you about my problem.”

  Dr. Archer tugged her rubber gloves off and sighed. “Patients. My life would be a lot easier without them. Or their relatives.”

  “If the virus keeps spreading, you’ll get your wish.”

  The doctor sighed again and braced herself on the terminal. “What is the problem?”

  Hawk grunted, clenching his teeth hard. A pickaxe sliced through his skull like butter, pressing deeper and deeper.

  “It’s your head, isn’t it?” Dr. Archer said. “The pain is inside your brain somewhere.”

  He was surprised but lacked the wherewithal to confirm or deny her suspicions. With that much pain, childish arguments withered.

  “I have a. . . pinching sensation right behind. . . behind my eye. My right eye. It feels like. . . something is stabbing it.”

  “Stabbing?”

  Dr. Archer raised her pocket torch and shined it in his eyes. “I can’t see anything. It might be phantom pain.”

  Hawk clenched his teeth and shut his eyes. “There’s. . . nothing phantom about this. . . pain.”

  “It might have been caused by the device I implanted yesterday.”

  Of course, it is. “You think?”

  She looked hurt. “I swear, I never intended for you to have this pain.”

  Hawk wasn’t sure what he thought.

  “How about this,” Dr. Archer said. “If the pain continues, I’ll open up your braincase and check it for problems. Root around to see if there’s anything I can do about it.”

  “Sounds good.”

  The pain began to subside. Over the doctor’s shoulder, Joe ceased his squirming and returned to standing at the bars of his cage. Dr. Archer didn’t need to know about his connection with Joe. At least, not yet.

  14.

  TOMMY

  They stumbled across an undead creature every twenty minutes or so. They had reached the outer limits of the virus’s jurisdiction. The pioneers. Now they were in virgin territory.

  The virus has spread farther than Tommy had feared. It was as if the virus had a will of its own to profligate and cause mayhem. For all he knew, that was the case.

  Tommy eyed the dashboard gauges. “We’re running low on fuel. We’ll pull over at the next gas station.”

  It was another ten miles before they came to the next town. It was a small place called Seguin. Surely it had its own gas station?

  As Tommy approached the outskirts of town, he came to a barricade of derelict cars piled up on either side of the road. The locals were hard at work reinforcing it. They must have seen the undead army approaching on the TV, sweeping across the countryside in their direction.

  The locals eyed the team’s uniforms as they entered their town. None of them spat. That was a good sign.

  Within the town limits, women and children nailed boards up on the windows. What little good it would do them, Tommy thought. A zombie always found its way inside eventually. It was nothing more than a crude method at buying time.

  Some of the children clapped their hands at the sight of the Humvee and the soldiers inside it. Their parents turned them around and took another nail from their hands to bury in another board.

  Tommy felt bad for them. They expected the military to come in and save the day, but they weren’t there for them. He’d have been surprised if any military units had been dispatched to small towns like Seguin. They were more interested in cities with denser populations.

  No one cared about these small satellites.

  “Over there,” Guy said.

  A square barricade of vehicles was being built around the gas station. A single car at the front slid back and forth to allow vehicles to pass through. Tommy pulled up to it and waited.

  A man in a disheveled jacket and miscreant tufts of grey hair sprouting on either side of his head pulled up.

  Tommy wound down his window. “Afternoon.”

  “Hello there, partner. The name’s Angus. We were wondering when you boys would roll-up. Some were getting worried you’d forgotten about us.”

  Tommy smiled. “Of course not. It seems you’re doing a pretty good job protecting the town already.”

  Angus spat. “It’s the best civilians can do, under the circumstances. So, when are the rest of you turning up?”

  Tommy ran a finger over the steering wheel. “We’re concentrating our efforts on containing the virus, sir. That’s where we’re heading now. What we could do with is a little fuel. Just enough to tide us over to San Antonio.”

  Angus dug the dirt out from his fingernails. “San Antonio, huh?”

  “We’ve got an important mission.”

  Angus squinted. “It wouldn’t happen to have anything to do with these undead fellas, would it?”

  “I’m afraid that’s confidential.”

  Angus nodded but didn’t make eye contact. “I thought it would be.”

  “We only need a little fuel. Then we’ll be on our way.”

  Angus pursed his lips. “I’m not sure we want you to be on your way. We could do with that gun you’ve bolted there to the back of your vehicle.”

  Tommy met his glare. “I’m afraid we’re going to need it. But I’ll tell you what. As soon as we get to San Antonio, I’ll tell the commander about your situation here. I’ll suggest for them to send units to help you lock the place down.”

  Angus licked his chapped lips. “We both know they’re not going to send help.”

  The last thing Tommy wanted was to confront these people about the truth. But he might have a way out.

  “You served?” Tommy said.

  “In Nam. It’s not a time I like to think about much these days.”

  “We grunts are used to having them shit on us, aren’t we?”

  “That we are.”

  Tommy lowered his voice. “By the look of you, you know what you’re up against. These things. . . They’re not like anything we’ve ever faced before. Imagine an enemy that no matter how many bullets you put into it, it keeps on coming. They form a flood, until there’s so many of them you can’t keep up. And if you make a single sound, they’re onto you.”

  Angus absorbed the information. “That’s more than they’ve shared on the old box. Anything else you can tell us about these things?”

  Tommy had to appreciate the old timer’s gumption. It wasn’t every day you had to stare down an unstoppable undead fighting force.

  “My best words of advice are to leave this place. Take your families to San Antonio. There, you’ll find all the military backup you need. You’ll have a much better chance of defending yourself against these things than if you stayed here by yourselves.”

  Angus squinted. “I appreciate your honesty, but you must know people like us don’t run. We stand and we fight. We don’t give up on things. We fight for them.”

>   Tommy assumed as much. “In that case, let me give you another piece of advice. Stow your guns. Don’t use grenades unless they’re to distract the beasts from you. Don’t use anything that makes a loud noise. Unplug everything and turn it off. Use knives, swords, bows, and arrows. Hell, use crossbows if you’ve got ‘em. But for the love of God, don’t use guns.”

  Angus scratched a wart on his chin. By the sound, you might have thought it was sandpaper. “That’s where we might be hitting upon a little snag. Trying to pry the weapons out of the locals’ hands is about as easy as prying the life out of these creatures you described. But I will mention it to the others. Not that I expect them to listen much.”

  Tommy remained quiet, waiting to see if Angus was going to move the car aside so they could enter the gas station. He was pleasantly surprised when Angus raised an arthritic hand. A young man pulled onto the road, tugging the car out of the way.

  “Thank you,” Tommy said. “We don’t need much.”

  “Take as much as you need,” Angus said. “I doubt we’ll have much need for it for long.”

  Tommy felt sorry for them. It was the Death Squad’s fault they were in this situation. They’d failed in their mission. If they’d stopped the Architect’s plans from taking root, they wouldn’t be in this mess.

  But they had failed.

  Tommy pulled onto the forecourt and refueled.

  15.

  SAM

  The man responsible for the virus seizing the city of Austin. The man responsible for spreading the virus to neighboring towns and cities. The man responsible for infecting her beloved Tommy and turning him into a stricken beast—neither man nor undead.

  The man responsible for taking Sam’s future from her.

  Lester shook the man by the hand. “A real honor to see you again, sir!”

  The Architect paid Lester little attention but allowed him to direct him around the room.

  “We were about to test the latest iteration of the cure,” Lester said. “Would you care to see it?”

  Sam gripped her syringe so tight her knuckles turned white. An implement designed to penetrate flesh. She took a step forward. She would end him right here and now for what he’d done, for what he intended on doing.

  With his back to her, it would be easy. Almost too easy.

  Someone moved in front of her. She shifted her weight to move around him. The man followed her.

  It was Greg. He shook his head. He might have screamed the command in her ear:

  “Don’t.”

  Sam glared her response. Why not?

  The Architect still had his back to her. A doctor was a healer by trade, but that contained a double edge. They were also able to inflict the most amount of damage with the least amount of effort.

  The look on Greg’s face made Sam think twice. She wasn’t the only one imprisoned in this place. The other researchers had been too. They were in the same predicament as her. So why hadn’t they attacked him?

  Every researcher stood with their hands in front of them, eyes lowered to the floor.

  Because they’ve seen what happens to those who make the attempt, she thought.

  She loosened her grip on the syringe and placed it on the countertop.

  In his element, Lester extolled the improvements in the latest iteration of the cure. “But words are cheap. It’s action that proves the truth.” Lester snapped his fingers. The researchers leaped into action.

  One researcher opened a miniature fridge and extracted a small piece of meat from a plastic bag. The three zombies turned in the meat’s direction and grew restless.

  A researcher injected the latest iteration of the cure into the ball of meat. She offered it to the first of the three test subjects. He took it and jammed it in the slim slit of his mouth. A tough job with a wired jaw and no teeth. It took him a while to swallow it. Blood ran down either side of his mouth. The other test subjects reached for it.

  The researchers observed a set of monitors as they watched the cure’s effect take place.

  The creature’s eyes changed first. They rolled back in his head in sheer ecstasy. Then the eyelids twitched. Most zombies lost the ability to blink their eyes. Recently turned zombies’ eyes were often bloodshot. With the passage of time, they turned yellow. The oldest zombies developed a white film over the lens before turning blind.

  This creature blinked. The moisture worked into his pupils. The irises came into focus. The pupils dilated and the color of his eyes became visible.

  It was the most remarkable thing Sam had ever seen.

  The creature shook his head and peered at his torn hands. The leather gloves creaked with the movement. He worked his fingers in turn, touching his fingers with his thumb. It was like watching a computer perform a diagnostics check. The creature did the same with his feet. He turned his ankles in a circle, marveling at their movement.

  The creature raised its chin and peered at its audience with awareness. It wasn’t with a human’s self-awareness, but it understood the people watching him were real living things and not merely a meal.

  Lester smacked his lips. “Check stimulus response.”

  Greg clapped his hands. The zombie’s head snapped in the direction of the noise. Another flashed a light. The creature once again turned its head in their direction. He clutched the bars, leaning as close to the researchers as possible. The female researcher prodded the creature with a stick. The creature swatted it away and rubbed at the spot the researcher had prodded.

  Sam’s heart was in her mouth. “That’s incredible.”

  Then the creature shook his head. The gentle movement turned aggressive. He ran his fingers through what remained of his hair and yanked on it, tearing it out by the roots and letting out a howl. He slammed his head into the bars. The creature’s skull splintered around the unflinching metal.

  Lester bolted forward. “No!”

  The other researchers weren’t surprised at the turn of events. No doubt it’d happened before. The other zombies reached for the fresh blood. Their fingers grazed the soles of his feet.

  The researchers turned as one to peer at the Architect. His opinion was the only one that mattered.

  Lester approached the Architect with his hands clasped together. “Sir, I sincerely apologies for today’s result. I promise that next time we will make dramatic progress.”

  “This is dramatic progress,” the Architect said.

  Lester’s shoulders collapsed with relief.

  The Architect placed a hand on the taller man’s shoulder. “Let’s continue our research. We’ll work on extending the effect. Ultimately, we want total restoration.”

  Lester wiped the sweat from his brow. “Thank you, sir. We shan’t let you down.”

  The Architect approached a set of steps that led to an open elevator. A researcher handed him a small case of medicine. The Architect stepped inside and reached inside his shirt to withdraw a key. He slipped the key into a lock and turned it. The doors slid shut.

  Just like that, the Architect was gone.

  * * *

  Lester stood over his research team. “Collect more samples. We have work to do.”

  The researchers worked in silence. They collected blood and hair samples from the fallen creature. One set to drilling into a bone. No doubt they would later extract his organs too.

  Sam felt sorry for the poor creature. He had once been a man. It wasn’t his fault he turned into a monster. It was the Architect’s.

  Greg glanced at her out the corner of his eye. His eyes shifted to the desk space beside him. Sam carried her samples over and stood beside him. Greg placed his hand flat on the tabletop. He tapped his index finger on the surface.

  Sam recognized it immediately. Tap code.

  “Nice to see you again, Dr. DeCoveney.”

  The same questions sprouted at the forefront of her mind once again. She placed her hand beside his and raised a finger to tap. She paused, taking a moment to calm herself. She had so many questions,
she didn’t know where to begin.

  Over her shoulder, Lester oversaw the sample collection process. He issued orders every ten seconds.

  They had a few minutes at most.

  She tapped. “Why did you stop me?”

  “Attacking him would be a terrible error.”

  “Not from my perspective. We’re captives because of him. We could have stopped him and made our escape.”

  “Others have tried. They never got close. He has weapons. Even if you made the attempt, the others would have stopped you. Yes, we are prisoners, but we are also relatively comfortable. They’ve seen what happens to those who do not follow the rules.”

  “He’ll kill us all.”

  “Eventually, yes. Hope can be a fickle ally at times.”

  Sam could never understand that line of reasoning. She pursued another road of inquiry. “Where are we?”

  “In an underground base. One of several dispersed throughout the country.”

  “Beneath Austin?”

  “The best secrets are those concealed right under our noses.”

  “Someone would have noticed a secret base.”

  “Hence the word secret. Besides, we never knew it existed.”

  “How can we escape?”

  “We can’t. It’s impossible.”

  Sam’s stomach shifted at the echoes of Felix’s warnings.

  “We can’t stay here,” Sam said.

  “Many have tried to escape. None have been successful.”

  Sam grew irritated. “You’re telling me we have no choice but to stay here and keep working?”

  “For now, yes.”

  “Until when?”

  A pair of researchers opened the vacated cage and removed the mutilated corpse.

  Greg turned his back on her and returned to his workstation.

  Sam watched as the unhurt zombies stretched for scraps.

  I know how you feel, Sam thought. Grasping for something just beyond your reach.

  * * *

  Sam led the way back to her room without looking up. She drowned in her thoughts and didn’t even bother to play games with Julius. She waited outside her cell door.