The Redivivus Trilogy (Book 3): Miasma Page 13

  With his smoking gun still raised, Hawk stepped forward into the light. His focus was on the mess on the floor in front of him. He hooked his boot under the dead soldier’s arm and nudged him off the little girl pinned underneath. He was surprised when he noticed that the infected man was wearing military fatigues. What he saw when he switched his flashlight on caused him to inhale sharply.

  The little girl was a mess of sweat and gore. Her vacant eyes slowly regained focus and darted around frantically as though searching for the next attack. She moved her hands in front of her eyes to shield them from the light, and that’s when he saw it: a chunk of tissue was missing from the side of her left hand. The semi-circular pattern of crushed tissue and jagged puncture wounds bordering the injury left no doubt that she’d been bitten.

  “Dammit. Too late,” Hawk said, taking aim at the little girl’s head. Annalee let out a sorrowful whimper that softened his resolve to put her out of her misery.

  Perched in the window, Ava—and the shadow she cast on the unfamiliar man—shifted nervously. The movement drew Hawk’s attention, and he directed his piercing gaze toward Ava.

  “Well, hello there. What do you say you be a good little girl and come down from that window? I’m not going to hurt you.”

  Ava considered his words for a brief moment. She still didn’t recognize him, and although he’d gunned down the monster that had been attacking Annalee, something about him made her uneasy. His body language said something entirely different from his words. The bad feeling he gave her was solidified when she noticed the man cowering near the ground beside him. She couldn’t be sure who it was in the dim light, but he looked familiar. As much as she feared the unknown waiting for her on the other side of the window, she feared the wild look in the shooter’s eyes more. Without another thought, she turned and disappeared through the window.

  Before Hawk could go after her, he heard voices approaching in the hallway outside the restroom. He knew that the girl half-pinned under the dead infected man was done for, so he decided to cut his losses. Lowering his weapon, he turned and took hold of Sodecci’s collar before dragging him out of the room and deeper into the building’s shadowy recesses.

  When they had moved sufficiently far away, Hawk keyed his radio and rolled his eyes.

  “Puppet Master, this is Hawk. Come in.”

  “Copy, Hawk,” the voice replied.

  “I’ve captured one of the scientists. He tells me there are others here, but not many. The building is crawling with infected; they’ll likely take care of anyone else here. The doctor also tells me that there are about a half dozen men who are away right now,” Hawk said.

  “Ask him if he knows a man named Garza.”

  Sodecci fidgeted and cocked his head slightly upon hearing the soldier’s name. Had he been planning to lie about Garza, his body language would have given him away instantly. As it was, Sodecci was far too much of a coward to try to protect someone else if it meant that harm might come his way.

  “He knows something. Give me a minute with him, and I’ll call you back, boss,” Hawk said with a grin that showcased his crooked teeth.

  He’d hoped he would have to torture the scientist to get the information out of him, but he wasn’t so lucky. Dr. Sodecci whimpered as he told him everything he knew. Hawk gave the pathetic man a look of disdain as he listened to how readily he betrayed his friends.

  When Sodecci was finished, Hawk relayed the information to Connor, who was livid upon receiving the news that Garza had indeed left the building without his knowledge. Hawk had no idea who Garza was and why he was so important.

  “Two more things. I came across an infected soldier trying to make a snack out of two little girls. He’d already bitten one, but the other escaped through a window on the north side of the building,” Hawk added.

  “Bring me the doctor and find out who the little girl is. She may be of some value,” Connor said. His voice hissed with a menace that made the hair on Hawk’s neck stand up.

  16

  Dr. Sodecci found himself lying in a dark room that smelled of blood and piss. He had no idea where he was or what had happened. There had been a great deal of shooting and running, but things got rather hazy beyond that. He tried to sit up but fell on his face when he discovered his hands were bound behind his back. Even though the floor was covered by a thin film of who knows what, the cold tile felt good against his swollen eye. When the soothing cold dissipated, he pulled his knees under himself and sat up. His head throbbed with the sudden change in position, and he wondered if he was about to face plant a second time.

  Sodecci blinked several times but only partially succeeded in clearing his vision. His left eye was somewhat obscured by a swollen upper eyelid. From what he saw, the room was spartan. A single door and a dark, greasy stain were the only things to differentiate one wall from the others. While he was most interested in the door, the dark-smeared tile caused him considerable worry. The image of an unsavory character sporting a sinister grin surfaced in his mind, and his worry quickly morphed into full-blown fear.

  Struggling against his restraints, he murmured, “I’ve got to get the hell out of here.” Even though his hoarse words were barely above a whisper, they echoed rather loudly in the empty room. The unintentional volume of his voice made him cringe.

  Before he had a chance to get too worked up about his situation, the door opened. At first, no one entered, and Sodecci wondered if the person was trying to build suspense. If that’s the goal, it’s certainly working. He pulled against his restraints in a futile attempt to satisfy his nervous habit of biting his fingernails. When he could no longer control his anxiety, Sodecci pleaded.

  “Hello? Who’s there? Please, anyone, help me!”

  Apparently satisfied with the tension in Sodecci’s voice, the man stepped into the room. Sodecci recoiled in fear, even though the man before him looked nothing like the monster conjured up in his mind. Instead, the man appeared young, well groomed, and confident. Aside from a large knife held in a sheath strapped to his thigh, he didn’t appear to be armed. He smiled at Sodecci as he might when meeting someone for the first time. Although Sodecci didn’t return the gesture, he found the man’s affable persona reassuring.

  “Doctor, my name is Connor. Connor Roan,” the man said as he extended his hand toward Sodecci.

  After allowing it to hang awkwardly in front of him for several moments, he said, “Ah, forgive me. Your hands are bound. They aren’t tied too tight are they?”

  Even though Connor was still smiling, Dr. Sodecci sensed something malevolent beneath the veneer. The wicked gleam in the man’s eyes triggered alarm bells in the doctor’s mind. Flummoxed by the question, Sodecci remained silent.

  This was apparently the wrong thing to do, as Connor lunged forward and grabbed him by the neck.

  “ANSWER ME WHEN I TALK TO YOU!”

  Connor shoved him back, causing his head to bounce off the wall behind him. Sodecci fell forward, whimpering as he lay coiled on the floor.

  “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have done that. Here, let me help you up,” Connor said, as he hoisted Sodecci back to a sitting position. His face had softened considerably—the mask of rage he’d worn moments ago no longer present.

  “Hawk tells me you’re a doctor, and that you and your team are working on a cure for this mess we’re in,” Connor said, gesturing toward the open door. “Wow. That’s great. The world’s lucky to have people like you who are willing to step up to the plate when necessary.”

  Sodecci opened his mouth to protest, but Connor raised his hand to silence him.

  “I’m not finished, doctor. Please don’t interrupt,” Connor said. His tone was once again icy and threatening.

  Sodecci couldn’t tell if his volatile temperament was an act, or if the man crouched in front of him was suffering from serious psychiatric issues. He suspected the latter; the guy was like a real life Jekyll and Hyde.

  Continuing, Connor said, “You see—Louis, ri
ght? May I call you Louie? Anyway, Louie, I have a proposition for you. I see you working so hard, and I say to myself, ‘I should help that guy out.’ That’s why I’d like to offer you a head position in my organization. I know, it sounds too good to be true, but I really think we can help one another out. What do you say?”

  Dr. Sodecci’s left eye was now completely swollen shut. His monocular vision gave Connor a two-dimensional appearance that made the subtleties of his facial expressions even more difficult to interpret. Sodecci was so worried that his response might send the unstable man into another tirade that he merely stared at him lamely. When Connor was satisfied with the fear he sensed in his captive, he broke the awkward silence.

  “Where are my manners?” he asked as he worked to untie the restraints binding Sodecci’s wrists. “I don’t think these will be necessary. You don’t seem like much of a threat to me.”

  Sodecci didn’t know whether the comment was intended to be a compliment or an insult. As long as his wrists were free, he didn’t really care. He rolled his stiff shoulders forward and rubbed his sore wrists. Without looking up at the man who’d removed his restraints, he said, “Thank you.”

  The sardonic smile that appeared on Connor’s face went unnoticed. “Of course. After all, you’re my guest. But before we get too far ahead of ourselves, I need you to tell me a few things,” he said.

  Connor spent the next thirty minutes questioning Sodecci about the CDC compound and those who’d taken up residence there. Like Hawk, Connor found no resistance to his interrogation—Sodecci told him everything. He wasn’t sure if it was because Dr. Sodecci was a coward or simply naïve.

  In no time, Connor knew virtually everything there was to know about group at the CDC. He nearly lost his temper on more than one occasion when Sodecci blew off his questions about Sgt. Garza. It took everything he had not to smash the doctor’s face in when he said, “Garza? He’s just some soldier that showed up with Dr. San. Who cares about that guy? He’s not even at the CDC right now. He went out looking for some people that they think are using the infected as guards. Who would be stupid enough to do something like that?”

  Connor asked him about the young girl Hawk had seen fleeing the bathroom. Sodecci confirmed the account and volunteered some additional details.

  “There were two girls in the bathroom. The one that jumped out the window was Ava Wild. Her father, Dr. John Wild is a close friend of Dr. Lin San. He’s a medical doctor and isn’t much help in the lab. He and a few others went out to scavenge supplies that Dr. San needs for the next experiment.”

  “Interesting,” Connor replied.

  Without taking his reptilian eyes off Sodecci, Connor pulled his radio from his belt and brought it to his mouth. “Bayani, this is Puppet Master. Come in.”

  The radio crackled a second later. “Bayani, here.”

  “Hawk saw a little girl escape out a window on the north side of the CDC compound. Bring her to me, would you?” Connor hissed.

  “Roger that. Bayani out.”

  Connor saw the uncertainty on Sodecci’s face. The more he’d told Connor, the more relaxed he’d become. Now, the timid doctor’s face showed the slightest hint of unease. Maybe the good doctor is finally figuring out that there’s really only one way this is going to turn out. Good for him…

  Connor flashed a malevolent smile and asked, “Are you sure that’s everything? You haven’t left anything out?”

  Sodecci’s voice cracked as he said, “I don’t know shit, Mr. Roan. The people you really want are Dr. San and Dr. Wild—they’re the ones who can really help you with the cure.”

  That’s not true, little man. The only person I really want is Garza. I don’t give a shit about the doctors or any cure.

  Connor’s wicked smile never faltered as he drew the combat knife from its sheath with startling speed. Sodecci’s arms and legs flailed as he bucked wildly. Other than a sickening, gurgling noise, Sodecci didn’t make a sound as his entire blood volume spewed out of the gash in his throat in a matter of seconds. His lifeless body collapsed to the ground with a dull thud.

  Connor regarded the thing in his left hand like a macabre prize. He wiped his blade on the back of Sodecci’s shirt before sliding it back into its sheath. In an adjacent room, he found a blank sheet of paper on which he scrawled a single word.

  17

  Lydia ran into Lt. Weaver as she raced out of the keep. Her eyes were wide with fear, and she took in huge gulps of air.

  “They’re not there. They’re not in the keep. I have to find them,” she said as she pushed past him.

  L.T. called to her, but she didn’t stop. “Dammit!” he said before turning toward the keep. He didn’t like the idea of Lydia heading out on her own, but his primary responsibility was ensuring Dr. San’s safety.

  When the gunfire had broken out, Lydia had taken cover next to Lt. Weaver. He’d only mentioned seeing Dr. Sodecci run away, so she’d assumed that everyone else had fled into the keep. Nearly ten minutes passed before she realized that Ava and Annalee hadn’t followed the others to safety, and the status report Mother had given did little to assuage her concern for the missing girls. Where could they have gone? She felt her heart break a little more with each beat.

  Mother had just slipped into one of the darkened halls that led away from the keep when he sensed someone behind him. He spun to find a frightened but determined Lydia quietly approaching him. He opened his mouth to speak but was cut off.

  “Ava and Annalee are out here somewhere. They’re not with the others,” Lydia said with a grim look on her face.

  Mother started to protest her accompanying him, but the look on her face told him it would be a waste of his breath. He tried to appear reassuring and said, “Don’t worry. We’ll find them. Just stay close and keep quiet.”

  The halls were eerily silent as they crept deeper into the building’s sinuous corridors. Mother came upon an overturned cart blocking the hall and signaled for Lydia to halt. Smears of blood and some other dark fluid sullied the floor and wall around the upended cart. A smudged boot print piqued Mother’s interest, but it offered little insight into which direction the responsible party had gone. His head shot up when a high-pitched keening sound like that of an injured cat shattered the silence.

  “Oh no! The girls…” Lydia said urgently. The strain in her voice made it sound as though her vocal cords were on the verge of snapping in two.

  “On me. Let’s go,” Mother said, already moving in the direction of the sound.

  He switched on his weapon-mounted light and panned its beam across the darkened hallway ahead of him. All thoughts of stealth went out the window the moment he heard the terrified scream; they needed to move fast. Dust floated around in the otherwise stagnant air, making it seem as though everything was moving. The absence of all light and sound made the place creepy at baseline. Add the fact that they were in the middle of the apocalypse, and it was downright terrifying.

  A dull thud followed by a raspy growl like that of a bobcat echoed from somewhere in the distance. Although he couldn’t say with certainty, it seemed safe to assume that the sound had come from one of the infected. Hearing no further screams, Mother feared the worst and quickened his pace. He followed the scant trail of dark fluid spattered on the ground until he came to an intersection in the hall where the trail became less distinct. He paused, hoping to find some clue as to which way he should go. As he scanned the dark passageways, his answer came in the form of a faint murmur followed by the unmistakable sound of a gunshot. Despite the echoing report, Mother got a clear fix on the sound’s origin.

  “Come on!” he barked.

  Lydia raced to keep up with the light bouncing in front of her. She rounded a corner and found Mother with his back pressed against a wall.

  Mother raised a finger to his lips and motioned for her to get behind him. All of his attention was focused on a door to his left as he listened for any indication of who or what might be inside the room. Hearing nothi
ng, he gave Lydia a nod before turning and kicking the door wide open. The scant light coming in through the small window on the far wall dimly illuminated the room. He swept the beam of his light over the bathroom’s darkened corners. It was empty.

  Just as Mother’s adrenaline began to ebb, a muted whimper sounded from somewhere close by. He spun and moved back into the hall. The door to the adjacent men’s bathroom was closed. A bloody handprint smeared its surface, and the floor beneath was spotted with smudges of dark fluid. His eyes narrowed as he brought his rifle up from the low ready position. With a deep breath, he kicked the door in. He took a step forward and froze as he took in the carnage within the room. Coagulated blood and gore peppered the room beyond the place where a man laid motionless. Half-pinned, Annalee squirmed under the weight of the large man dressed in military fatigues.

  There was a gaping hole where the front of the soldier’s skull used to be. Even though his swollen and distorted face was barely visible below the mask of blood, Mother still recognized the man immediately. Dammit, no! Judge… Given that he appeared to have been attacking Annalee, it was clear to Mother that Judge had been infected. Keeping his rifle trained on the dead soldier, he watched for any hint of movement. He tried not to think about who the man had been. Mother couldn’t help but wonder who’d fired the shot that put Judge down…and where that person was now. His eyes flitted from side to side in search of the shooter.

  Lydia pushed past him and raced to Annalee’s side. She crouched next to the girl who was on the verge of losing consciousness. Tears streamed down Lydia’s face as she stared at what had become of the little girl who’d been with her from the start of the outbreak.