The Redivivus Trilogy (Book 3): Miasma Read online

  Behind him, Reams pointed to two pairs of heavy leather gloves covered in thin chain mail hanging next to several lengths of thick, bloodstained rope in the far corner of the enclosure. “Something tells me this isn’t the work of the local neighborhood beautification committee,” he said.

  “Where’s Ann?” Plant asked, his voice suddenly alarmed and serious. He almost never called his companion by her proper name. Judging from the look on each of their faces, it was clear that neither of them knew the answer to that question either.

  The three men immediately split up and set out to find Animal. Out of fear they might inadvertently attract the infected to the area, they refrained from yelling for her. The absence of infected monsters trying to kill them was the only positive thing about their current situation, and they knew that was subject to change without a moment’s notice. When they met back in front of the enclosure and still hadn’t seen her, Reams began to worry.

  John sensed his unease and said, “Don’t worry. She can handle herself out here better than any of us.”

  Nodding, Plant said, “No argument here, but I’m pretty sure she went that way.” He pointed toward a derelict building that looked as nondescript as the next. Neither John nor Reams noticed the two slain revs that Plant thought identified her as well as a signature or a fingerprint.

  The three men approached the ramshackle building with caution. It was the kind of place that would have invoked trepidation even before the apocalypse. The lifeless bodies of the two dismembered sentries chained to the front stoop were just the beginning of the perils the building presented. At least a half-dozen other mangled revs had been positioned inside, making it a veritable deathtrap for an unsuspecting trespasser. Any one of the monstrous things would’ve sent the average person screaming into the night. Taken together, the group of revs was meant to provide an effective deterrent for even the most determined individuals that considered exploring the building. No one in his or her right mind would brave the unknown dangers lurking within the darkness of the house of horrors. Then again, no one ever argued that Animal was in her right mind.

  Plant inspected the wounds that had silenced the sentries and knew Animal was responsible. All of the other revs he came upon had met a similar fate. He followed the gore-stained trail of death to a room deep inside the darkened building where he found Animal staring into a large crate full of weapons, ammo, and other supplies.

  It was hard to say what was more disturbing: the fact that someone was sick enough to intentionally use revs to guard the weapon cache, or that Animal had waltzed right through them as if they were nothing more than annoying shoppers in a crowded mall. Both thoughts sent a shiver down Plant’s spine.

  “There is some seriously sick shit going on here,” she said, as if she’d known he was behind her all along. Plant switched on his headlight, and the beam cut a swath through the murky gloom, highlighting the treasure trove of gear. He sidled up next to Animal and stared slack-jawed at the cornucopia of weapons and ammunition lying before them. Without taking her eyes off her find, Animal said in a wistful tone, “Check out the other containers, but be careful. The top crate over here contained a nasty little surprise.”

  “Holy hell. I have a feeling we’re not in Kansas anymore,” Plant said, stifling a gag as the concentrated smell of decay wafted out of the crate she’d mentioned. That any odor was foul enough to be noticed above the room’s already impressive stench was remarkable. Plant chanced a look inside the container and immediately regretted it. The sight of the squirming adolescent rev with its arms missing and truncated legs was enough to send any sane person running for the hills. Its jaws snapped voraciously as it stared at him with blank eyes. Unable to stomach the horror any longer, he nudged the lid back onto the container before staggering back. He doubted he would ever sleep again without seeing that monstrous abomination craning its little neck at him. His soul felt as though it had been sullied in a way that could never be cleansed.

  Plant approached the other stack of containers and reached out with a tentative hand. Being a lifelong fan of horror movies, he envisioned the part in every one of them where some hapless victim puts himself in an incredibly stupid situation only to be mauled by whatever evil was lurking on the celluloid. The moment his hand came to rest on the top container, something banged against it from the inside, and his heart felt like it was going to explode. He let out a little shriek and hopped back as though the thing had shocked him. It did not take much imagination to guess was had caused the thud.

  Animal turned to scowl at him, and he flashed her a sheepish grin. “What? I thought I saw a spider,” he said.

  With a heave, he slid the closed top container off the stack, allowing it to fall to the ground with a heavy crash. The muffled growls that came from within the crate left little doubt as to its vile contents. He rapped the side of the next container and listened for the ominous reply. He heard nothing.

  The locking clasps fell away from the lid with a loud clunk, and Plant opened the container. What he saw inside scared him nearly as much as the monster he’d seen in the first crate Animal had opened. He froze, too unnerved to even breathe.

  Meanwhile, Animal had replaced the lid on the container she’d been admiring and was dragging it toward the door. The discordant sound of metal scraping against the dirty floor clawed through the air like a demon raking its fingernails down a chalkboard.

  Grunting, she called, “A little help here?”

  Plant’s mind refocused and he shook his head, hoping that like an Etch A Sketch it might somehow erase the last few minutes of his life from memory. It did not. Looking over his shoulder, he said, “Reams, can you give Ann a hand in here?”

  Plant slowly turned his head back toward the container before him, as if any sudden movement might somehow cause the thing to explode. In light of its contents, that didn’t seem too far-fetched a possibility. While he was no expert, he’d seen enough movies to know he was looking at all manner of things designed to go boom. His first inclination was to back away carefully, hoping that such a slight action wouldn’t be enough to trigger a detonation that would surely reduce the old building to splinters. He cursed under his breath when he considered the possibility of the destructive hardware falling into the hands of the wrong people.

  “Shit. Here goes nothing.”

  With his eyes clenched tightly, Plant gave the heavy container a firm tug and eased it to the ground. When nothing dramatic happened, he relaxed one eye as though wanting to make sure he hadn’t been obliterated so fast that he hadn’t even noticed it.

  Several minutes later, the group emerged from the building with a total of four containers in tow. Animal beamed, while the faces of Plant, John, and Reams each displayed varying shades of sickly green. Even though the chemical supply house had been completely destroyed, the discovery of the weapon cache meant they weren’t going home empty-handed. In addition to the invaluable contents, the crates also held many troubling questions. What sadistic group would mutilate revs and use them as deterrents to protect a supply cache? Why did such a group need that kind of firepower in the first place? Perhaps most importantly, what repercussions would they invite by taking the supplies? Despite all of the burning questions, they spoke very little as they loaded the containers into the rear of the Bearcat. Animal kept her keen eyes trained on the surrounding environment, like a cat looking for the slightest hint of trouble. Other than the usual apocalyptic scenery, she saw nothing awry. As soon as their bounty was stowed in the passenger compartment, they all piled in.

  “Everybody’s in, Garza. Let’s roll,” John said as he pulled the rear door closed.

  “Great. We need to get back to the compound and report this to Lt. Weaver ASAP. I’m not sure who’s responsible for this or what it means, but I get the feeling that there’s something much bigger than we know going on.”

  The Bearcat’s occupants were quiet as the vehicle lurched forward. Coupled with the massive adrenaline dump that followed
every mission outside the CDC’s walls, the sound of the enormous engine and the debris crunching under the tires was like a post-apocalyptic lullaby. Although they weren’t far from the CDC, it felt as though it took ages to navigate the wasteland that Atlanta had become. Midway through the return trip, Reams finally asked the question that was on everyone’s mind.

  “What the hell do you think that place was all about?”

  The others stared at the large crates as they pondered the question, each of them hoping to forget the horrors they’d found with the supply cache. Finally, Animal spoke.

  “The world’s always been a sadistic place. The plague just gave the degenerates some new toys to play with.”

  “And got rid of anyone who might’ve been keeping them in check,” Plant added.

  As sick as it was, they all knew it was true. Not wanting to delve any deeper into the current state of the world, they allowed an uncomfortable silence to settle over them once again. From the driver’s seat, Garza called into the radio.

  “Stack, come in. This is Bearcat, inbound. ETA five minutes. Fire up the distraction, over.”

  The radio crackled as Stack replied with an affirmative. A few minutes later, they pulled through the outer fence and onto the CDC grounds. Although they couldn’t hear the music, the flashing light and the infected horde’s movement assured them that the distraction had been activated. The system they’d rigged, which employed light and sound to draw the infected away from the gate anytime they came and went, had proven to be a lifesaver time and time again.

  Garza circled around the compound and approached the concrete barricade from the far side. When he pulled up to the heavy steel gate, Judge motioned to someone below, and the gate began to slide open. He panned his rifle around the area, ensuring that no stragglers made it through the barricade. Just inside the gate, Col. Doug Warren, who was affectionately called Mother by the other soldiers, took up a defensive position alongside Stack, one of the other soldiers. Everyone breathed a sigh of relief when they heard the clang of the heavy gate sliding back into position behind the truck.

  “Okay, kids. We’re home. Everybody out,” Garza said as he put the Bearcat in park.

  5

  Lurking in the shadows, Bayani Lumaban watched the group across the street as they loaded the metal trunks into the armored vehicle. The truck had sustained so much damage that it was difficult to determine whom it had belonged to. Bayani’s face twisted into a snarl of rage when he thought about all the weapons and equipment in the stockpile. It didn’t matter in the least that it had all been stolen in the first place. Truthfully, he considered what they had done to be more like scavenging than theft since those they’d liberated it from were no longer alive to use it. What these people were doing, on the other hand, was stealing. Who the hell are those guys, anyway?

  He saw four people, none who wore traditional military uniforms. Two of them were dressed in black from head to toe like a pair of Hollywood ninjas. The other two sported random outdoor and tactical gear that gave them the appearance of civilian hunters. Each was well armed and moved with the confidence and precision he associated with trained professionals. In truth, virtually everyone who didn’t exhibit the trademark broken shuffle of the infected moved like a trained soldier, which was likely the reason they were still alive in the first place. He knew there was at least one more person driving the armored truck, and it was possible that others were inside the vehicle. He didn’t care. He was prepared to kill them all. He wanted to kill them all.

  Bayani’s hand drifted to the hilt of the vicious sword, a Filipino ginunting. Unlike most blades, the ginunting’s razor sharp blade was concave—curving forward as though it lacked the patience to wait for its next victim. His hand reflexively tightened on the grip as a similar impatience flowed through his body. He did a quick survey of his weapons, ensuring that his other blades were in the appropriate positions and his firearms were locked and loaded. It was all he could do to restrain the fury burning inside him, pleading to be unleashed on the men he viewed as his enemies.

  “Puppet Master, come in,” Bayani said into the radio.

  He heard only the hiss of static as he waited for a response. Although it seemed like an eternity, the radio crackled to life a few seconds later.

  “Bayani, this is Puppet Master. What’s your status?”

  Taking a deep breath, Bayani replied, “We’ve got trouble at the depot. Looks like someone took an interest in the place, and the sentries weren’t enough to curb their curiosity. I’ve got eyes on four people loading the supply cache into the back of an armored transport. I’m not sure who they are. They look professional, though none are dressed in military uniforms. Moving to engage, over.”

  “Negative, Bayani. I repeat, negative. Hold your position. Don’t let them know you are there.”

  Bayani couldn’t believe what he was hearing. He fumed as the thieves hefted the last container into the truck. Seeing his chance to intervene slipping away, he squeezed the ginunting’s grip so hard he thought it might crack under the pressure.

  It wasn’t that the Puppet Master doubted Bayani’s ability to take on the group of men—far from it. He’d seen what the Filipino was capable of, and quite frankly, it was a frightening thing to behold. He merely saw the situation from a bird’s-eye view rather than the up-close-and-personal, on-the-ground perspective that Bayani had. Any intelligence about the men who were stealing their weapons could provide a tactical advantage that was far more valuable than the weapons and supplies themselves. After all, they had other supply depots and could always get more weapons. Determining the identities of these men was far more important to the Puppet Master than getting revenge for their petty theft. Besides, the Puppet Master reasoned, there would be time for revenge later.

  Slowly, Bayani’s logical brain emerged from behind his reptilian one, and while he did not like it, he understood the reasoning. In the time he’d known him, Bayani had learned never to doubt the Puppet Master’s tactical mindset. His leader’s ability to view any situation with calculating, emotionless detachment was one of the primary reasons Bayani had joined him in the first place.

  “We need to know who these guys are and where they came from. We need to know where they’re going and if there are others with them. If we truly want to mitigate any threat they might pose, we need information,” the Puppet Master said.

  “So what do you want me to do?” Bayani asked.

  “Follow them and stay out of sight. Find out everything you can about them. See what they’re up to. Don’t worry, Bayani, there will be time for revenge,” the Puppet Master said.

  “You’re right,” Bayani replied. “I will do this. You should send someone to check the building to see if they left anything behind.”

  With that, Bayani set out in pursuit of the Bearcat, creeping through the nooks and crannies of the decaying landscape. He moved with such fluidity that he looked like little more than the shadow of a passing cloud. Despite being limited by the poor road conditions that accompanied society’s collapse, the truck still moved faster than he could on foot. To overcome this, he used his superior maneuverability to take shortcuts through the urban wreckage whenever possible. With few competing sounds to mask that of the armored truck, he could do so without much risk of losing the vehicle. Whenever the truck wasn’t in view, he moved with considerable speed. Whenever the truck was in his line of sight, he moved like a snake in the grass. This went on for nearly five miles, until the Bearcat came to a tall chain link fence.

  Although Bayani wasn’t certain what the fence encircled, he sensed it was important based on the number of buildings sprawled out in the distance. Cautiously, he edged closer as the truck passed through a gate. When he reached the fence, he read the sign attached to the chain link. Having only seen the CDC campus once previously, and not from this side, he hadn’t recognized it. There was just enough space next to the gate for him to squeeze through with a little effort.

  Once insi
de, Bayani slunk along in a low crouch, wary of the potential dangers that could be lurking around the next turn. He wasn’t so naïve as to think that a fence conveyed any real safety. The carnage scattered across the grounds more than confirmed his worries. As the armored truck drove deeper into the compound, he sought out an elevated position from which he could observe the surrounding area. The bombed-out shell of a fire-ravaged building sat just ahead on the left side of the road.

  Like a faint breeze, Bayani moved across the grounds and into the burned-out husk of the building. The light filtering through gaping holes in the walls cut swaths through the darkened interior. Nothing stirred inside. Bayani ascended the stairs to the top floor and made his way to a corner room facing the direction the Bearcat had travelled. He scanned the horizon with his binoculars and saw the armored truck approaching a formidable concrete wall, which appeared to completely surround one of the only buildings that looked to be in decent condition. All of a sudden, a strange sound filled the air. Although he didn’t understand the words, the doleful melody delivered by the high-pitched voice matched the dismal landscape perfectly. He’d never heard such music and was unsure why he was hearing it then. That it had been completely silent just seconds before made it all the more haunting as the song reverberated between the abandoned buildings.

  Through the binoculars, Bayani saw the heavy metal gate slide open. The Bearcat pulled inside, and the four individuals he’d seen at the supply depot climbed out of the back. The driver and another person he hadn’t seen hopped out of the front. They both wore U.S. military uniforms, and he was surprised to see that one was female. Even so, it was the male soldier that caught his eye. He couldn’t be certain at first, but the more he watched the more convinced he became.