Orpheus (13 page)

“The other hand, too.” Sam grabbed his cuffs and attached Mutt's other arm to the backrest of the bench he was sitting on.

“Are you comfortable?” Sam asked.

Mutt shook his head like he was trying to rid himself of the last vestiges of sleepiness. “What?”

“Are you comfortable?”

“Comfortable enough. But I hurt like a sonofabitch on the insides. Did I just imagine it, or did I get bit by a guy with one leg?”

“We'll get you fixed up,” Fish said.

“Stop with that shit right now. The only fixing you'll be doing is a bullet to my skull. You guys have to figure a way out of here.”

“You were pretty out of it coming here, but I just don't see that happening.”

“Damn. We have to let him know what we found before...before. Make the call.”

On cue, they heard, “Scalpel 2, this is HQ.”

Chapter 11: Some Rescue

Orpheus was glad he grabbed a headset for the occasion. It would have been nearly impossible to run and talk on the radio at the same time, and he couldn't exactly stop to chat. “Sam, you guys are in the press box?”

“Yeah.”

“Describe your position.” Sam did.

While Orpheus was thinking, Sam said, “I can't begin to describe how bad an idea this is, boss.”

“Shut it. You guys have ammo?”

“Some.”

“Enough to clear a hole for me one time?”

“We can manage. Look, I have to tell you what we found.”

“When I get there.”

“But...”

“When I get there. Just get ready to make a goddamn hole.”

* * *

Sam relayed the plan.

“That guy is nucking futs,” Fish said. He sounded almost awestruck.

Mutt cleared his throat. “He-he doesn't want to lose anybody else. That's what drives him. That's why he's coming to the aid of guys he's only known for a few weeks, even though we're all probably gonna die anyway.”

He looked at Tim.

“And he especially wants to save you, although he probably doesn't know it..”

“Me? Why?”

“Shit, we all knew that from the get, bait. You remind him of his kid. He couldn't protect him, so he's compensating by rescuing you from deep shit. It's all psychology. I dated one of those, too.”

Tim felt a substantial pang of guilt. “That's stupid. He doesn't even know me.”

“It doesn't matter what you think of it, Tim. He sees us as his family for various reasons. And family almost never makes sense.”

“Make a hole! Make a hole!” Orpheus bellowed through the radio.

The three men who were able took up firing positions in the windowless opening. For the second time, Tim witnessed an army of zombies pursuing food to the press box. The only difference was that now there were two armies converging on him at once...and from opposite directions.

Each man, including the runner, had some variation of the same thought when they saw the other's circumstances:
You've got to be kidding me.

They began picking off the targets in Orpheus' way.

All Tim could think of was how the man down there was counting on him. The shots weren't difficult at this range, but nerves were the enemy. He just had to remember to aim, breathe, shoot, repeat. Bodies fell everywhere, but replacements were in long supply.

Orpheus pitched in with a pistol in each hand. He didn't fire them simultaneously; that only worked in action movies and video games. The one on his left hand would replace the one in his right when it was empty, because he wouldn't have the three seconds he'd need to reload. He emptied the first, threw it at a zombie, and started firing the second.

Almost there
, he kept repeating.
Almost there
.

Bullets flew all around him. Most of them were on target, and creatures were repeatedly knocked away from him just as he thought it was over. He felt the ground rise beneath his feet and then drop away quickly.

Pitcher's mound. Only about eighty feet to go.
He put everything he had into one final burst and emptied the magazine directly in front of him. He tried not to think that all it would take to bring him down within the next few seconds was a stray arm or leg. He leaped for the fence and scrambled up it as soon as he felt the cool metal on his fingers and palms. He climbed to the top and hung there for a moment, catching his breath. Zombie arms flailed at him but fell short by a comfortable margin.

He shimmied sideways until he reached the press box. Getting in it would be tricky. He reached for Tim's outstretched hand and grasped it firmly. Then, with one hand in Tim's and the other with a vice-like grip on the fence, he carefully allowed himself to be pulled in.

He fell onto the floor. He felt hands on him and heard a chorus of voices asking him if he was okay. All he said was, “Move!” Mutt looked worse than Orpheus had expected, but he was still alive. No one said anything as he pulled out the vial and the syringe. He pierced the cork with the needle and filled it halfway, mindful that he had no clue what the proper dosage was. He tried to visualize how much Vincent had given his former assistant, but came up blank.

Fuck it
, he thought, and drove it into Mutt's thigh. He depressed the plunger and administered every drop within the syringe.

Mutt's head snapped up and he yelled, “Owww! What the fuck was that for?!?”

Orpheus couldn't do anything but laugh. When he was done he said, “This will buy you time.”

Sam said, “Really? They developed a cure?”

“Not a cure. But it slows the infection down. I've seen it in action. It works.”

Mutt rubbed his thigh and winced. “Florence Nightengale you ain't, but I actually feel a little better. More like myself, anyway.”

“Wow,” was all Tim could say.

Orpheus called his dispatcher. “Lena!”

“Cameron! Thank God! What the hell were you thinking? Is everyone okay?”

“For now. But retreat isn't exactly an option. How about getting us an airlift?”

“On it.”

Everyone looked at Orpheus. “You guys have to understand something. We might be on our own. Trager has everything that was keeping us in business: a Jekyll and a workable serum. He doesn't need us anymore. My money says that he'll decide we're not worth the gas and he'll leave us here to die. We have to depend on his humanity, I guess.”

The unanimous opinion in the press box was that they were screwed.

“I didn't really have a plan beyond the first annual Zombie Dash. That was a seat-of-my-pants kinda thing.”

The room was silent as the magnitude of their situation set in.

Fish was the first to speak. “It's not so bad, guys. If we die here, I can at least go knowing that I witnessed the craziest goddamn stunt that ever was.”

* * *

While they waited, Lena raised the pilot on the radio. She tried everything short of sex to get him to make an unauthorized run, and she was about to offer that when Orpheus called her.

"Lena? Any luck?"

"No. Jameson apparently has better things to do. What other options do you have?"

"I'm telling you, none."

"Okay. I'll screw that ogre if I have to-"

"Lena-"

"-I'll fly it myself, if I have to, but you're getting a ride!"

An angry Martin Trager burst into her room, towing a cowed Dr. Vincent in his wake. "Is that him? Gimme that radio!"

"Shit," Lena muttered, and handed the radio to him.

"Holt!"

A mock cheery voice responded. "Oh, heeeey, Marty. How've you been?"

"Cut the shit. Do you have any idea what you've done?"

"To you? Nothing. We could use a ride, though."

"Huh. After what you and your band of idiots just pulled?"

"Stop it, Trager. You still have the Jekyll. Dr. Frankenstein already told me how easy it was to make the serum, so there's no harm done. Right?"

Lena held her breath for Trager's answer, but he changed the subject for the moment. It was obvious that Orpheus was right, and that only made Trager angrier. "Why did you take the serum?"

"That's a very good question, and one I intend to answer...in detail...when we get back."

"I'm sure you will. Good luck with that." Trager handed the radio back to Lena and started to walk out of the room.

"Come on, Trager! You're just going to leave us to die?"

Trager stopped, but didn't turn around. "Martin," Lena said. "Please help them."

"They got into it, they can get out of it."

"Mutt's been bitten, for Christ's sake!" Orpheus yelled.

Dr. Vincent, who had been part of the scenery the entire time, perked up. The gleam in his eyes told Lena that was exactly what he prayed he would hear. It gave her the chills. He whispered to Trager, and Trager put his hand out for the radio again. She gave it to him, even more reluctantly than the first time. "Are you bullshitting me?"

"Nope."

"Shit." Trager actually sounded sincere. "The Dr. wants to know if you gave him the serum yet."

"About half of it. I didn't know the dosage."

Trager looked back at Dr. Vincent, who nodded. And smiled.

"I apologize for losing my temper, Holt. We wouldn't want to abandon an injured man, now would we?"

"You're coming?"

"Just hang tight. I'll send the chopper right away."

The two men said nothing else and left Lena's room. She poked her head into the hallway and watched them disappear into the stairwell. When she was sure they wouldn't return, she keyed the radio. "Cameron, you
cannot
come back here.

* * *

"What the hell is that supposed to mean?"

"Guys, listen to me. Dr. Vincent was positively gleeful when you told him about Mutt. It was totally creepy. The rest of you guys are now expendable, but Mutt is his Holy Grail, for whatever reasons make sense to him. I can't imagine what he has planned. Find a way out of there, Cameron. Whatever you're facing there, it'll be worse if you give Mutt up."

"Right, right. We'll...figure something out." He ended the call and tapped the antenna against his temple. "I just don't know, fellas."

"I do," Mutt said. "Put a bullet in me, throw me out that window, and run your asses off while they're distracted." His idea was met with a flurry of dismissive gestures from everyone, except for Tim, who was retying his sneakers. When that was done, he stared out the window, seemingly at nothing.

Fish noticed this. "Going somewhere, bait?"

"Just being prepared, like you taught me."

"How about you use that creative brain of yours to create us a way out of here?"

Tim shrugged his shoulders and resumed looking out the window.

"Man, this sucks," Sam said. "Orpheus, now's a good a time as any to tell you this, I guess. We got a lead on your kid. A good one."

Orpheus tensed. "Go on."

Sam told him. When he was done, Orpheus was stunned and speechless, but everyone pretended not to notice.

"We're going to get you out of here, sir," Tim said. "So you can find out for yourself."

"Oh, now you have an idea?" Fish mocked.

"Not my idea. His." He pointed to Mutt. Heads swiveled to look at Mutt.

"Not an option, Tim," Orpheus said as he patted Mutt's shoulder.

Tim hopped up on the window ledge. "Right plan...wrong bait." He swung himself out on the fence.

Fish tried to pull him back in, but Tim was well out of reach. Fish was left with nothing but angry, useless flailing. "Get the fuck back in here, Tim!"

Tim began to catwalk along the top of the fence. He swayed a bit, but one look at the hungry throng below him was enough to make his body right itself again.

* * *

During Tim's first year of college, his parents made him promise that he would take up some sort of physical activity to stay out of trouble and in shape. He was terrified of the "freshman fifteen" anyway, so he readily agreed. He wasn't sure what it would be, though. He hated running and the swimming pool hours were screwy. He probably could have walked on for the basketball team, but he didn't want to put all of that time in to just sit on the bench. He was good, but he didn't have the drive to be good enough to get serious minutes. And the hacktastic pickup games on the Quad were dangerous to his health.

A few weeks into the semester, he was walking back from the library when he saw two guys just kind of climbing up, jumping from, and vaulting over the manmade walls and railings. Some of the moves looked insane, but doable if you had the guts. He got a closer look and was intrigued. These guys were having a blast, like little kids at a playground. During a break in the action, he asked them what they were doing. The two guys (Ed and Terry) explained the concept of
parkour
to him, and he fell in love with it. He asked if they'd mind maybe showing him the ropes sometime, and one of them asked, "What are you doing right now?"