Broken Angels (6 page)

Robert hadn’t been among those bitten eight years ago. But when the parasites began to use their new hosts to propagate themselves in manners other than biting, well…Robert eventually got caught up in the waves of victims that came after, all of them struck with something that started like malaria and rapidly evolved into something more like HIV. But what had the victims done—what had he
really
done—to deserve such a punishment?

Was it a sin, or a blessing? Or were both equally false words, having no relevance to real life?

Robert’s viral condition—at least when controlled through a combination of willpower, smart attire, and frequent medication— allowed him to do some good in the world. But who really gave a shit whether he lived or died? Who’d given a shit about that poor old man he’d seen literally falling to pieces? Known Virus-carriers were treated worse than the homeless. And if one had the misfortune of being homeless and infected, well…

After eight long years, the total number of the infected—both dead and living—remained relatively small, and mostly ignored. It was estimated that, at any given time, there were one hundred thousand to two hundred thousand living Virus-carriers on the planet. The vast majority of those who contracted the Virus died shortly thereafter or were quarantined; treatment of victims varied from country to country, locality to locality. In the United States, far too many of the country’s elected officials and opinion-makers abused the out-of-sight-out-of-mind philosophy. They felt only a few million Virus-carriers dead or on the verge of dying worldwide over the span of eight years was nothing for them or the populace to get too excited about. After all, the ordinary flu killed somewhere between a quarter of a million and half a million people worldwide each year, and very few people got too worked up about that. Besides, overpopulation and a tightening economy were far more dire problems.

Those who ran the Heartland Security Agency agreed with this assessment, but they were also smart enough to give the Virus some attention. Almost from day one, the Agency had been at the forefront of an educational campaign that tried to prevent its spread, while at the same time orchestrating a propaganda campaign to persuade the public that carriers of the Virus couldn’t really perform the amazing feats numerous witnesses had seen them perform.

Robert chuckled as he thought about some of the propagandistic acrobatics the HSA had performed over the years to explain away the actions and misdeeds of Virus-carriers. Their supernatural-seeming performances were, without fail, dismissed as mere illusions, sophisticated-but-still-amateurish magic tricks. Nothing to worry about. Professional stage magicians, circus freaks, and any halfway decent clown at a children’s party could perform tricks just as amazing. Whatever fantastic tricks anyone thought they saw or heard about could be illuminated by rational, common-sense explanations, courtesy of the HSA’s wordsmiths. The government’s expert debunkers could also easily disprove any of those fantastical tales told by bloggers and others on the Internet about isolated happenings in other countries.

No wonder no one gave a damn about the Virus and whatever catastrophes to which it might be a party. Lies, ignorance, and illusions—all of them were so blissfully sweet. Reality was much too pungent for the senses.

Robert opened his eyes. He’d heard someone shouting at him. He turned his head and saw a frazzled-looking middle-aged woman in a yellow bathrobe, half hidden behind the open front door. His Mustang was idling in her driveway, and she was none too pleased about it. Only some of her words were in English; all that Robert understood were a couple of racial slurs and something about getting a gun if he didn’t get out of there.

His drug-assisted rumination was over. The medication has steadied his hand. His nails were the proper color. Time for him to get on with his official duties.

Robert arrived at the hospital in ten minutes.

He passed through the security check on the first floor then went to the fifth floor, where he had to pass through a second check before getting to the right hall. When he saw Sam, he had many questions for her, but she was the first to speak.

“Where’s Darryl?”

“On his way, I guess.” He hoped. With Robert’s unexpected ten-minute detour, Darryl should’ve arrived already. He surely wasn’t all that caught up in that blonde; one really didn’t have to spend too much time sweet-talking her type in order to get a first date, or whatever else. “Adam’s message said the girl was awake. You speak to her yet?”

“Briefly,” Sam said. “I wanted to wait for you two.”

“What did she have to say to you?”

“First thing? ‘Where’s Marie-Lydia?’”

Robert sighed.

“I’m not well-versed in interrogations,” Sam said, “but I figure it wouldn’t be useful to ask her the same question she asked us.”

“I’ll make a note of it,” Robert said. “What did you say to her?”

“Well, since I don’t know where Marie-Lydia is, I just told her where she was—in an Arlington, Virginia, hospital—and why— we found her beaten and unconscious in a house full of addicts and criminals. I told her the people who found her were on their way to talk to her.”

“She gave you a name, right?”

“Hers? It’s Ava Darden.”

“She’s not listed on any of our registers,” Robert said.

“No, but Adam’s running a full search, trying to locate any relatives in the area.”

Robert approached the door to Ava’s room.

“Aren’t you waiting for Darryl?” Sam asked.

“No. But you can.” He closed the door behind him.

Ava shifted her head when he entered the room. She was still weak, but she didn’t seem the least bit troubled.

Robert smiled. “Hi there.”

Her eyes narrowed.

It was impossible for him to know for sure, but from the expression on her face, the slight movement of her irises, and the slight contraction and dilation of her pupils, Robert figured she was studying him, from bottom to top, taking an extra amount of time to focus on the black patch over his right eye, shielding an injury, a loss.

Ava blinked before speaking. “Hello.”

“My name is Robert Goldner.” He moved a step closer to the bed. “I’m an agent with the IAI, the Isaac-Abraham Institution. It’s a nonprofit group that, among many other things, helps find missing kids. Yesterday, we found you.”

“Was I missing?” she asked.

“Well, we weren’t exactly looking for you,” he said. “But we found you.”

Her lips approached a smile. “You’re an honest one.”

“I was raised to be.”

“I’m Ava. Ava Darden.”

“And you’re not from around here,” Robert said.

“No. Spencer. Spencer, Virginia.”

“What were you doing in that house?”

“House?”

“The one we found you in. The woman who was in here earlier told you—” He hesitated. “Do you know where we found you?”

“Oh. Yeah. The den of drugs and thieves.”

“Why were you there?”

“I wish I knew,” Ava said.

The room’s door opened. Sam entered, followed by Darryl.

“Uh, Ava, you’ve already met Sam Goins. This is my partner, Darryl Ridley.”

The two exchanged greetings and Darryl said, “Sorry I’m late. But you know Saturday morning traffic. Everyone trying to get to the malls.”

Robert snorted as Sam said, “We don’t mean to crowd you, Ava. But all three of us are very interested in knowing your story.”

“I’d be interested to know it myself,” Ava said in a murmur.

“We can all leave if you need us to,” Sam said. “Should we get the nurse back in here?”

“No,” Ava replied, sounding even weaker.

Robert looked at Sam, who just shrugged and shook her head. He then turned to Ava and asked, “What’s the last thing you remember?”

“I was in the gym. The school gym. I was trying to stop Marie-Lydia from killing everyone.”

“Marie-Lydia McGillis?” Darryl asked.

Ava perked up and, in a foolish attempt to sit up, aggravated the wounds on her abdomen. She grunted and fell back as Darryl and Sam rushed to her side.

“Are you okay?”

“Do we need to call the doctor?”

Ava winced but said, “I’m fine.” She took a moment to catch her breath, and then she opened her eyes wide, looking at each of them in turn. “Where is she?”

“We don’t know,” Darryl said.

“We were looking for her when we found you,” Robert said.

“But you said something about a house,” Ava said. “Is she involved with—?” She grimaced as her body tensed.

“Okay, that’s enough for today,” Sam said. “Gentlemen, out in the hall. Ava, dear, I’m calling the nurse for you. We’re leaving you alone now, but we’d like to speak with you again later.”

The nurse rushed into the room after Robert and Darryl left. Both agents took their time walking toward the nearest lounge area.

“That wasn’t much use.”

“There’ll be another time,” Darryl said. “After her wounds heal and she starts to think clearer. Anyway, it’s a cold trail again. There’re other kids to find. Let’s concentrate on the warm ones.”

“Don’t you want to wait and see what Adam finds first?” Robert asked.

“What do you mean?”

“Didn’t Sam tell you that this girl wasn’t on any of our lists of missing kids?”

“Yeah, so what?”

“Aren’t you curious why?”

“I know why. She wasn’t missing.”

“If you’re right, that should make you even more curious.”

“Curious about what? What are you talking about?”

“What’s with you?” Robert asked. “Where’s your head these days?” They weren’t meant as rhetorical questions, but he wasn’t about to wait for answers. “Ava said the last thing she remembers is fighting with the redhead—Marie-Lydia McGillis—which is the entire plot of all those videos we’ve reviewed. It’s the last thing Ava remembers, and it’s the last time anyone saw the McGillis girl awake and conscious. Ava was the last one to see her. We get a tip that the McGillis girl may be in a house, but Ava is there instead.”

“Yes,” Darryl said. “And?”

“You’re the senior in the partnership,” Robert said. “Can’t you put all of that together to reach some sort of conclusion?”

“No, I can’t. Because it doesn’t mean anything.”

“At the very least, it means the trail isn’t cold.”

“It means we’re back where we started,” Darryl said, “and there’s nothing warm or encouraging about that.”

Neither, Robert thought, was Darryl’s lack of commitment to the Watcher program he’d signed up for.

“Well, I’m heading back to The Burrow to check on the sources of our information,” Robert said. “Maybe you’d like to work with me, unless you have another appointment for tongue-wrapping and spit-swapping?”

“Listen, Goldner—”

“She’s not in as terrible shape as she seems.” Sam entered the lounge area. “I spoke to the doctor again. She said Ava’s more fatigued than anything. Another good night’s rest will do wonders.” Robert and Darryl followed Sam toward the elevator bank. “I left her our contact information for when she’s ready to speak to us, if she wants to, but the police and feds get the next crack at her. We only got dibs as a favor from the HSA.”

“They owe us more than one,” Darryl said.

“Funny,” Sam said as they got onto an elevator cab. “They’ve been claiming it’s the other way around. We have another briefing meeting with them on Monday, bright and early.”

“Maybe they’ll brief you on the status of my application,” Darryl said.

Robert felt like laughing himself to tears; Darryl had to be joking. He’d been slacking as a Watcher agent, noticeably and dangerously. Did he really think he could be effective as a federal agent?

“I’ve been waiting to hear something for three months now,” Darryl said.

“Maybe you should clean out your ears and realize silence means they don’t want you.”

“Don’t be so sure,” Sam said as Darryl glared at Robert. “The HSA is searching for some new Peacemakers, and I believe Darryl would make a good fit.”

“Then what’s the holdup?” Darryl asked. “I thought I did well during my first round of interviews. But since then, nothing. No yay or nay.”

“I’ll be sure to ask for an update on Monday,” Sam said.

Darryl sighed as the elevator’s door opened. Robert also sighed. Picturing Darryl with a gun was a sad sight. Armed and mentally preoccupied with getting on to the next charity case, he could cause all kinds of collateral damage.

“I’d like to know the Agency’s decision one way or another,” Darryl said, following Sam toward the building exit. “Soon. Before I turn twenty-two and Adam kicks me out of the IAI for being too old, too much of an adult.”

“I assure you,” Sam said, “that’s not going to happen.”

“Yeah,” Robert said. “I’m sure Adam’s definition of ‘adult’ includes the phrases ‘acts responsibly’ and ‘exercises mature judgment.’”

“Well, your position’s secure,” Darryl responded. “Keep making those stupid babyish remarks and your place in the orphanage of Watchers will be assured for the rest of your wise-alecky life.”

Robert grinned. As if either of them was destined to reach old age, or even middle age. “This baby is wise enough to know that neither of us is going to get much older before we’re through. We’re just crawlin’ till we fall.”

“Cutely phrased,” Darryl said. “Every nursery needs a rhymer.”

“And every government agency, a self-righteous prick who—”

“Will you two cool it?” Sam unlocked her car. “Who’s coming back to The Burrow?”

“I am,” Robert said.

“I have some business to take care of.” Darryl turned and walked toward his car.

“Yeah,” Robert said, “the HSA will just love to hire a Peacemaker who insists on moonlighting.”

Darryl just kept walking.

FOUR