Orpheus: Homecoming (The Orpheus Trilogy Book 2) (14 page)

After the thing that used to be Falcone was undeniably dead and not ever coming back, Orpheus stood in the gory remains, nearly hyperventilating. He clenched and unclenched his fists, blinking rapidly the entire time. No one in the hall would have mistaken his actions for anything but what they were: a man who had drifted over the edge and was now fighting his way back. They were all afraid to get too close.

He thought he heard someone screaming his rank several times, but it came through as weakly as a radio station signal at the very limits of its range. Then he heard his last name, just as faint.

"DAD!" was the one that finally got through.

"Y-yeah, kid." He turned around to face them. Ethan was the closest. He'd apparently had to nearly scream in Orpheus' ear to be heard. Tim was helping a clearly shaken Lena to her feet. Rachel was multitasking. Her left hand was checking for a pulse in the fallen guard's wrist, while her right had a gun pressed firmly to his temple. She shook her head and only confirmed what was painfully obvious. Orpheus nodded and Rachel put a bullet in his head without hesitation, but with a great deal of remorse.

Orpheus was relieved to see no trace of horror on any of their faces. "Lieutenant." Then to Lena: "Are you okay?"

She nodded rapidly. "Yeah, he didn't get me."

"When we're done here, take her to the infirmary for a full examination. Once she's cleared, I want two guards with her at all times for the next twenty-four hours. Sorry, Lena."

Tim asked, "Is that really necessary, boss?"

Lena saved Orpheus from giving the obvious answer. "It's no big deal."

"We have another problem," Ethan said.

"What is it?"

"Torres. At least Lena thinks it's him. He's messed up."

"Where is he?"

Ethan motioned for his father to follow him into the room. Fish was already there, on his knee and looking under a cot. Orpheus saw the telltale signs of a struggle. An overturned table, broken glass, spatters of blood. But no Torres.

Ethan dropped to his knees and peered under the same cot. Orpheus followed him down and cautiously turned his head sideways, pressing it to the cold floor.

Fish said, "Good luck reaching him. He's somewhere in his happy place."

Torres was lying flat on his back and had a death grip on the underside of the metal frame. He was looking straight up at the mattress. If Orpheus had to guess, Torres had managed to get under the cot and used his own body weight to prevent Falcone from lifting it off and getting to his prey. It was a pretty smart move, because Falcone was a bit on the heavier side and couldn't have possibly squirmed under the cot as Torres had.

"Sergeant Torres." He got no response and tried again. No acknowledgment, and Orpheus struggled to remember his first name. "Kenneth, it's over. You can come out." Torres didn't give any acknowledgment at all. Just kept staring at that damned interesting mattress. Whatever happened in here had completely screwed with him.

Orpheus saw something that he really didn't want to. He unclipped his mini flashlight from his belt and shined it at Torres. There was blood. Not a fatal amount, but a steady drip coming from a bite wound on Torres' forearm. "You've been bitten. You have to come out from under there. I have the antidote right here, but I can't reach you." Still no response. Orpheus tried to keep his voice calm and soothing, because yelling would only make the man retreat further, he thought. "Son, listen to me. We can fix it, but you have to let us help you."

Shit, no one's home. No more time to play nice.

He jumped up and saw that he had an audience at the threshold, with that damned Iver Thompson and his cameraman right at the front. "Everybody stay in the goddamn hall," he ordered.

Then to the people in the room, "We're going to have to flip it. Rachel, have you ever administered a shot before?"

"Yeah, my mom used to need one for her diabetes."

He handed her the pouch. "These are ready to fire. Jam it in here, right in the meat of the thigh, plunge it, and get the fuck out of there. He's probably going to thrash, so I don't care if you break the needle off in him, just keep it clear of everyone."

"Got it."

"We'll hold him down." The four men each moved to a corner of the bed. Orpheus tried to remove the mattress, but it was strapped to the frame. "This is going to be awkward, but we need to flip it with him attached to it. I doubt he can let go by now. If he does, just drop the frame and hold him in place."

"Can I help?" Lena asked.

"Are you up to it?"

"I'm okay."

Orpheus didn't hesitate. "As soon as you can, straddle his chest. Don't be gentle. Pin him." She nodded. "Everybody ready? Now!"

The flipping was even more violent than Orpheus expected. Not only did Torres have a vicelike grip with his hands, but he'd hooked his boots in the heavy duty straps that secured the mattress to the frame, as well. Tim and Fish were on the side facing the room and their job was to act as a pivot and assist with the lift.

Orpheus and Ethan had to clean and jerk.

They all grunted with the exertion and the bed was moving. Once it had hit the point of no return, Tim and Fish bailed out and let it drop. It hit the floor with a tremendous crash. Torres still hadn't let go. Terror had absolutely frozen him in place. Orpheus wasn't even sure that he knew what was happening, and that theory was supported by the fact that Torres never moved to protect his face, which ended up slamming into the underside of the bed.

That crunch had to be his nose, and maybe some teeth.

The plan had been to put him on his back, but not only didn't he think they could get him off in a reasonable amount of time, but then they'd run the risk of him choking on his own blood. And Orpheus wasn't going through all of this effort to have a guy die in a manner that stupid. He'd already lost two in a heartbeat.

The four of them grabbed an arm or a leg. Orpheus put a knee across Torres' back for good measure just as Lena climbed on top and lent her weight to the effort. As Orpheus feared, the physical contact triggered the primal fighting instinct and Torres began to buck and heave. Nearly a thousand pounds of human holding him down, and he was making them work.

Rachel swooped in and put her knee in the back of his thigh, a maneuver that would normally hurt like a son of a bitch and encourage compliance. She did exactly as Orpheus had instructed. Stab, plunge, remove. She held the now-contaminated needle well away from her body and made sure that no one else was in danger. She stabbed it into a pillow on the other cot.

Fish shook his head like a dog to clear some sweat from his brow, as he didn't dare let go. "So now what do we do?"

"I hate doing it, but we tie him down like this and keep an eye on him. He should be okay. We got to him quicker than I ever got to Mutt."

Torres stopped trying to throw them off, and his whole body relaxed at once. He groaned and, in a voice muffled by the pillow, asked, "Do you think you can sit me up first?"

O

They moved Torres to the infirmary so they could be closer to decent medical equipment. He allowed himself to be tied to the bed, but he had enough slack to do normal things like eat and, if he was ever up to it, read a book. Orpheus thought he'd be fine. He'd seen the antidote work before, but he didn't have the medical knowledge to confirm it at the internal level. He posted a medic and three guards and told them to notify him as soon as there was anything to report.

Then he made the call to Martin Trager.

"Holy shit, how did the first guy get infected?"

"Not a clue. That's one of a million reasons I need Jen. And bring a coroner, too. I need to autopsy the fuck out of Falcone."

"Jen can do that, too. I've had her studying with a retired M.E. Leave no stone unturned and all that."

"When does she sleep?"

"Why would she want to do that when she can learn so much cool stuff at my behest? It's not like her boyfriend is on the island with you, or anything. By the way, she says you should check everyone for bites or any type of infection. Like naked check." He paused for a moment, then switched gears. "I'm no shrink, Holt, but how are you?"

"I don't know. I lost two fucking guys in the blink of an eye, and I have no idea how. This bothers me on every level. We're going to do a postmortem as soon as you and I are done."

"I can handle the calls to the families and all of that shit."

"Thanks, but no. They have to hear from me. They were my responsibility."

"Understood."

"How's Jackie? I talk to her every day, but ...”

"She misses you. She worries like you wouldn't believe. And, let me tell you, this isn't going to help things. Do you know that I talk to her at least five times more than I have to any woman I've been trying to sleep with? Being platonic is more work than I thought."

"Yeah, that sounds rough."

"Anyway, the three of us will be there in the morning."

The three of us. That means Ralston.

"Copy that."

Orpheus hung up and walked to the teacher's lounge where his team was waiting for him, all seated at a round table. Each one of them had a beer in front of them, and he didn't think it was their first of the night, either. It didn't much matter, as Orpheus had ordered that the next two days be non-duty days. People, himself included, needed time to process this. And grieve. And get drunk, maybe. If Ralston had a problem with that, Orpheus would point him to the appropriate clause in the contract.

"How much booze is on this island, anyway?"

Fish reached under the table and said, "Oh, my God, I found another one!" He popped the top and slid it across the table into Orpheus' waiting hand.

Orpheus put it to his lips and drained half of it before he sat down. He let out a long breath and took another swig. He burped and said, "That was fucked up." Then to Lena. "How are you?"

"I, uh, I was pretty shaken up for a few minutes, but I'll be fine. This really wasn't much different from the time a guy tried to mug me in college," she said matter-of-factly. "Hand me another beer, sweetheart?"

Tim just stared at her. "Wait, what?"

"Oh, it was nothing. He tried to grab my purse, so I punched him in the eye twice and kicked his nuts." Her smile brought a devilish glint to her eye. "I kept my purse."

"My girlfriend, ladies and gentlemen."

Everyone at the table laughed. A genuine laugh was exactly what they needed. They traded funny stories for fifteen minutes or so.

"Okay, back to business. We know what happened after Falcone got infected, but how did it happen in the first place? Whose team was he on?"

Rachel raised her hand. "Everything went smoothly. He was never within six feet of a zombie. Nobody was."

"I don't doubt it. I personally checked the obvious bite sites. No wounds. I want Jen to do a more extensive exam when she gets here."

That perked Fish up. "Wait, Jen's coming here?"

Orpheus nodded.

"Then there's finally a decent chance I'll be having sex on the island. With a partner this time!"

"Can we focus? No contact, no wounds." Ethan tapped his bottle on the table. "What if it's airborne?"

"Then we're already screwed," Tim answered.

"No one else is showing any symptoms. We'll know more once the autopsy is done, I hope. And there is the other thing to think about."

"Which is?"

"I spoke to Thompson. It turns out that I beat Falcone to death on camera."

Several of them groaned.

"But he was a zombie," Lena said. "Everyone knows they're actually a thing now."

"He was as freshly turned as they come, and he still looked human. I haven't seen the tape, but I can imagine that it looks pretty gruesome."

"But you did it to save her," Tim said.

"I pulled Falcone off to save her, yes. But I could've just put one in his head and been done. Instead, I lost it."

Rachel asked, "What'd Thompson say?"

"He actually talked me down. He said that it only looks as bad as the narrative that goes along with it, and he has no reason to tear me down."

"And you believe him?" Ethan was skeptical.

"In spite of myself, yes."

"So what's next?" Fish asked.

"Everyone stays confined to their rooms until the others get here. Anyone so much as sneezes they get isolated. So get to it, and then get some rest."

O

Orpheus took his own advice and hit the sack early. After he'd brushed his teeth, he saw that he had a text waiting for him. It was from Jackie.
Marty told me what happened. Call if you want to talk. Love you.

For the first time since coming back, he found that he just didn't have it in himself to talk tonight. The day had been that bad. He texted her back and let her know that he'd call first thing in the morning.