Orpheus (37 page)

She still heard shouts from Harold and Jason, God bless them, but they would soon be motivated to finish the job. She found wooden matches and lit the two oil-fed candles on the dining room table. She closed her eyes and said a prayer, then she was ready. She carried the candles to the hallway and placed them on the floor. She walked downstairs and made herself visible again. The zombies went crazier, the glass viewing window shattered and the wood began to crack under the assault. She hustled back upstairs and waited, knowing that it wouldn't be long now.

She noticed the wine that they'd never had a chance to toast with, so she did it now. She filled all three glasses and clinked one, then the other. She brought her glass to the hallway and took a long swig. It was delicious, and the thought of it being akin to her last earthly Communion with the Lord helped calm her. The door below was on its last legs; she heard more cracking, then splintering, then feet on the stairs. She grabbed one candle and threw it down the stairwell. As it pinwheeled, the cap which held the wick came loose, and it exploded instantly into a large fireball. She stepped well into the apartment and threw the second. The hallway disappeared behind the wall of flames.

Sister Ann took her glass of wine into the bathroom and closed and locked the door. She dropped to her knees and clasped her hands together in front of her. She giggled and grabbed the wine glass again. She drained it at a reasonable pace, just as she heard the creatures enter the apartment and smelled the smoke and burning flesh. She tried to ignore the pounding on the door while she enjoyed her final vice. When her glass was empty, she clasped her hands again and began to pray.

She didn't pray for her life or absolution for her sins; she knew the one was over and the other was out of her control. She merely prayed that this act would enough to protect what was left of her charges, and, in a selfish moment, she prayed that the smoke be what took her.

Then God could do with her as He wished.

Chapter 25: The End

Dr. Vincent knew that he'd had enough as soon as he heard Anders panicked transmission. Holt's friends were here...so what? The doctor wasn't a fighter, and he wasn't a hero. He had everything that he needed right in his hand. The small doses of the cure that were stored in unmarked vials in the labs were irrelevant; he could manufacture more of that in his sleep. This new serum was beautiful, and when, not if, it worked, Dr. Vincent would be spoken of alongside the likes of everyone from Curie and Pasteur to Colt and Oppenheimer. He didn't care for such things much, he really was only about the science, but recognition for one's accomplishments wasn't something to be shunned, either.

Let Scalpel have their silly little joyful reunion. Let Anders have his petty revenge, if he was man enough to exact it.

None of it would last long.

Dr. Vincent threw a few things in a backpack and initiated a call on his satellite phone. While it connected, he heard gunshots. At first, there were only a few. Soon, more and more joined the chorus, and it sounded less like a random exchange and more like a war.

The connection was made, and a flat voice from the other end said, "Luthier."

Dr. Vincent responded, "Stradivarius."

"Status?"

He swelled with pride as he said, "Green. The base is compromised."

"Clear path?"

"Yes."

"Prepare for extraction."

"Already arranged. One other thing. Thanatos."

There was a pause on the line. "Repeat last."

He spoke more clearly. "Thanatos."

"I copy Thanatos. Confirm."

Now Dr. Vincent was getting annoyed. "THANATOS."

"Hold."

There was a pause, then a deeper voice came on the line. There was nothing in the way of greetings. Instead, the voice recited an alphanumeric code. The doctor confirmed it, then typed it into his terminal.

He had sixty minutes.

He tucked the phone into his pocket and left the room. He would actually miss the hospital. It held a lot of good memories for him.

* * *

The lab tech, Jen, looked all over for Dr. Vincent. He wasn't in his office, his quarters, and he wouldn't answer her calls. In fact, she couldn't find anyone. Then the gunshots started, and she just wanted to get someplace safe. She had no idea where to go, so she went to the one person she knew would be there, the one person who still needed her.

"Hello, Mutt. How-"
...are you?
were going to be the next words, but she didn't need to ask them. He wasn't doing well. "He" was as close to "it" as she cared to see. Muscles popped out as he strained against the heavy straps that kept him tethered. His teeth gnashed and spittle flew from his mouth. "Oh, God. Just...hold on, Mutt." She hustled over to the cold storage unit and filled a syringe with the treatment. She didn't even know if this would work; it was becoming less effective each time. Still, she had a duty to him. More than that, she really liked him, and didn't want him to suffer. She stood off to the side, well clear of his jaws, and injected the treatment.

The results took longer than they had so far, but he was back with her, if barely. His memory lagged behind. He stared as he tried to remember her name. "Jen. Thanks. This shit's barely working anymore."

"I know. I'm sorry." She put her fingers on his restraints. "If I let you go, can you control yourself?"

"Why would you let me go? The Doc might disapprove."

"He's gone, Mutt." She released one strap, and Mutt rubbed the back of his neck while she did the other. "And some kind of war has broken out on one of the other floors."

"War?"

"Gunshots. Some people broke in, I saw those hooded guys running by with guns, it's scary."

Mutt could only think of a handful of people on the island who would have any motivation to break back in to the hospital. He started ransacking drawers.

“What are you looking for?”

"I need a radio! Where's a goddamn radio?!?"

She reached into her lab coat. "Here you go."

"Oh. I expected that to be harder. Thanks." He started at channel one and transmitted. He got no response, so he tried channel two. And so on. He wasn't even sure what channel he was on when he heard, "Mutt! It's Sam!"

"What the hell's going on? I hear the shots!"

"It's a rescue!"

"How's it going? Where's Orpheus?"

"We're pinned down outside the conference rooms! Orpheus went to go help his kid!"

"You found him?"

"Mutt, I'd love to chat, but we're in trouble here!"

"Just hold on, I got an idea!" He faced Jen. "Vincent said there's a cure. Do you know where it might be?"

"It would have to be handy in case of an accident, but I, uh, there can't be a cure. We...we're just trying to perfect the treatment."

"That's what he told you. Can you identify the cure, if there is one?"

She was clearly distressed by the conversation. "Yeah, I guess so. It should respond to a simple test. Mutt, what's going on?"

"We'll talk about it when this is over, I promise. Identify the cure, and give me that." He took the syringe and vial containing the treatment and headed to the lecture center.

He stood outside the double doors muttered, "Wow, this is stupid." He forced himself to calm down and breathe evenly, then opened the doors and was immediately noticed by just shy of a hundred zombies. They came at him, but he held his ground and remained calm as he let the doors shut behind him.
Fuck it. If this is the end, this is the end.

The zombies surrounded him and stopped within inches. They were close enough that he couldn't spin in place without touching several of them. He could feel their hot breath on his neck even though, consciously, he knew they didn't breathe.

All in all, it wasn't a very comfortable experience.

But he wasn't dead yet.

"Goddamn," he said. If Vincent had succeeded in synthesizing this trait, and Mutt had no reason to believe he hadn't, the only difference would be that the synthetic infection wouldn't kill the carrier. Mutt was still dying, but now he was certain that Vincent told the truth about the cure, too. As long as Jen did her job, he might actually be okay.

He opened the doors slowly and walked out. The zombies fell in behind him. It was creepy as Hell having them all at his back, but they were, for the moment, under control. He checked the directory on the wall and jammed his finger where it said "Conference Rooms."

* * *

Jen wanted to cry. Tears of joy that there was, in fact, a cure. Tears of despair because she'd been lied to, and she suspected that she had no idea the true extent of the deception. She focused on the former, because that meant that Mutt would, hopefully, be okay. The latter would come. Hopefully with booze in hand.

She loaded a syringe with the cure, capped it, and put it in her pocket. She reconsidered and wrapped thick gauze dressing around the syringe. By her estimation, there was only one dose, and she had to be careful with it until it was in Mutt.

She heard a rapping on the glass and gasped.

Mutt.

With a zillion zombies crowded around him in the hallway.

Her jaw dropped when he smiled at her. He opened the door slowly and just wide enough for him to sneak through. She was physically unable to speak.

"It's okay. you know what you were working on, right?"

Her mouth moved for a few seconds before words were able to find their way out. "Yeah. Seeing it, though...wow."

"Okay, come on."

She cocked her head as if she hadn't heard him correctly. When it sank in, she shook her head vehemently. "No way."

"Jen, you'll be okay with me. But I'm about to set these things loose. Once that happens, you won't be safe anywhere." He touched her lightly on her forearm. "Please trust me."

She sighed. "I meet the craziest men. You might be interested in what's in my pocket."

"You found it?"

"Pretty sure."

"Hold on to it. I can't take the cure yet, for obvious reasons."

"It's just as well. With the amount of stimulants in both the treatment and the cure, taking them concurrently would probably make your heart explode." She took his hand. "Please don't let go of me."

"No way, kid."

She stayed close as he opened the door and pulled her into a mass of zombies. She knew from research that they weren't capable of emotions or other brain functions, but their body language suggested curiosity. She had to consciously remember to breathe.

"Sam," he said into the radio. "You still there?"

"Standoff so far. We have the territory, they have the numbers."

"I'm about to even them up. Get behind some heavy doors."

"Why?"

"Because I'm bringing some friends. And they're hungry."

"Who? Oh, dear."

"Out." He squeezed Jen's hand. "Let's walk. I'll get you someplace safe, then it's on. Just try and keep me calm."

She pulled his arm around her shoulder and nestled into his side as they walked. Mutt thought that she'd misunderstood his point, not that it wasn't flattering, but she said, "I feel safe with you. You remind me of my dad."

"I said calm, not depressed."

* * *

Ethan pounded blindly up the stairs and literally ran into a zombie. It, as well as its extended family, turned to look at him and he froze. He was completely immobile, as if he were already dead. He made a nonsensical sound and just waited for it to pounce.

The pounce never came. A tall, slightly-balding man in eyeglasses and a black jumpsuit with an exceedingly pretty woman in a lab coat under his arm, however, did. The zombies parted as they passed and then closed the path behind them. They were like the zombie prom king and queen.

"Relax, Ethan. Just don't freak."

"Relax? Are you shitting me?" He whispered, and subconsciously backed down a few stairs. He switched gears to avoid succumbing to panic. "Why does everyone know my name?"

The woman raised her hand and volunteered cheerily, "I didn't know your name, cutie."

"Because we've been looking for you for weeks."

It made sense. "Scalpel. You must be Mutt."

"Where's Orph-your dad?"

Ethan felt a pang of guilt for letting his father send him away. "He's discussing things with that Anders prick. He sent me to help you. You apparently don't need it. What is all this? I've never seen anything like it." A memory of their escape from the school flashed through his mind. The Count. "Wait, I have. You're...controlling...these things?"

"More like setting an example. Look, kid, it's nice to meet you, but our friends need help."

"I'm coming with you."

"Absolutely not."

"Hey, my girlfriend's up there!"