Primeval (Werewolf Apocalypse Book 2) (29 page)

“I think most of the city’s probably infected by now.”

“What about the people inside the buildings? They should be safe.”

“If this was like what happened in Cincinnati, then I’d say you’re right. But this is a lot worse. With this stuff infecting rats, dogs, cats, anything mammalian, then those things can get into houses and apartment buildings.”

“I saw a pack of mutated rats right before getting on the subway. There were a lot of them together, dozens, and they were chasing a woman, as if herding her to a corner so they could get at her easier.”

“New York has always had a rat problem. Now there’ll be millions of the little bastards out there with a single thought in their infected skulls – eat and kill.”

Sandy shivered, leaned in closer to Nicole. The soldier put her arm around her and sniffed her hair, which, despite the day’s horrific events, still smelled like strawberry shampoo.

“Don’t get too cozy over there,” Burns said. “We’ll need to be moving soon. Who knows what the Army’s got planned for this burg. I wouldn’t put it past them to take a stand and get rid of this virus once and for all.”

“Shit, Burns,” Nicole said. “You talking nuclear?”

“It would wipe the disease away before it got loose. Probably be very popular with the American voters if it stopped the spread. I can think of a dozen politicians who’d want to bomb New York on principle alone, but now they’ve got a valid reason.”

“They can’t do that, can they?” asked Sandy. “They’d kill millions of people.”

“And save hundreds of millions more. I don’t like it either, but given the choice of the infection getting out of the Manhattan Zone and destroying the city, well, I’d have to choose saving the rest of the world.”

Sandy said, “Surely someone out there can find a cure.”

“You’ve seen how fast this thing has spread. Crazy fast. One minute, the news is talking about a few rat attacks, and the next the Army’s blowing up the bridges.”

“Which makes me wonder how much we knew beforehand,” Nicole said. “Those jets got to New York awfully fast.”

“Don’t look at me,” Burns protested. “If the government knew this was gonna break loose, they didn’t inform me. Makes me wonder, though, why they approved a vacation for both me and you, Nicole. They didn’t say diddly-squat when we said we wanted to go to New York City for a week.”

“I said I wanted to go. You just followed me like some demented stalker.”

“Still, it doesn’t seem a little far-fetched to you? Here we are, two of the leaders of the Lycan Sniper Squad, and we’re right across the river when all hell breaks loose. We always wondered about the speed in which we found out about the Cincinnati outbreak, but there wasn’t much proof.”

John sauntered over and leaned into the conversation. “There’s all kind of proof that the military was behind the Cincinnati incident. None of it’s substantial in itself, but there were plenty of stories regarding the way the military could have unleashed the whole Lycan Virus as biological warfare gone wrong. I’ve written plenty of those stories myself.”

Burns scoffed. “Rumors and hearsay.”

“Yeah, most of it was, but added together it looked less like a natural extension of what that one German scientist was working on and more like a gigantic Strangelove ‘whoops’ situation. It got loose somehow, right? We never determined how, exactly. Then, you guys were called in and were set up before the first full moon expired. That rings of a cover-your-ass strategy, and we all know that the military machine’s known for its CYA abilities. They were awfully prepared for that outbreak, as shown by the uncanny promptness of the Army’s arrival. Now we have a new situation and a new outbreak. I’m not saying this was intentionally started by the government as some whacko biological experiment. I’m not one of those crazy conspiracy theorists who think the government controls everything. But I am a realist. I saw a couple of those packs of rats on the streets. Michael had seen a few as well. But we never envisioned so many people getting infected so fast.

“It’s terrifying if you think of it. I had a glimpse of what Manhattan has become, through a manhole, and that happened within a few hours. By now, the last families left uninfected are barricaded inside their buildings, probably trying to stave off any more attacks. And before the first big rat attacks had been talked about on the news, before anyone figured out that this was some mutated version of the Lycan Virus, we have bridges and tunnels blown and the whole city is isolated as only an island can be. Isolated. Like a control group.”

“That’s pretty far out there, even for a journalist,” Nicole said, although the words all seemed chillingly kosher to her.

“I’m not saying the Army or the Pentagon is behind this. I’ve interviewed dozens of whack jobs out there over the past year or so – people who like being werewolves, people leading churches based upon being animals, people who think the bestial state is the way God intended us to be.”

“God wouldn’t do anything like that,” Beth said. “He’s a caring God. We’re his children.”

“You looked at the Middle East lately?” John asked. “Everyone, no matter how nutty, thinks God is on his side and against his enemies.”

“There is no God,” Michael said. “And if there is, then He’s a sick bastard.”

Howard said, “He’s there. We just can’t understand the man.”

“This isn’t the time for a theological discussion,” Sandy said.

“In any case,” John Creed continued, “I believe this could’ve been caused by one of those religious nut-burgers that thinks we should all go back to Eden, return to some animalistic, savage state of being. They believe God is supporting them, and they’ve been scheming something for some time. Wouldn’t surprise me if this New York debacle was what they were planning. They believe in their own—”

“God isn’t an animal,” Howard shot back, getting darker in the face. “He’s a caring father, our protector, and He’ll get us through this.”

“Doing a bang-up job so far, isn’t He?” John said. “How about all those poor souls up there on the streets? What did they do to piss the big man off?”

“I believe in God,” Alice said, her voice small and clear as a bell piercing through the darkness. Everyone turned toward her, and she lowered her eyes. “I think He’s watching over us, helping us, and putting things in our way so we can prove ourselves. He’s just someone who wants to be loved, and if you can do that, unflinchingly, I believe you’ll end up with Him. It could be a rough road getting there, and I have seen the roughest, let me tell you. Still, when it’s at its worst, like now, my belief in Him will get me through.”

“You okay, honey?” Beth asked, shocked at the girl’s little speech. It was the most she had said since they’d arrived in the city the night before.

Alice nodded, giving her a hug. “I’m glad you’re here,” she said.

“God is not an animal,” Howard mumbled.

“Listen,” Burns interrupted. “Believe whatever you wanna believe. I could give a crap. I believe in this.” He lifted the Colt. “And right now, that’s enough. Now, are we gonna keep flapping our jaws or are we gonna get the hell out of this dungeon?”

Nicole said, “I can give an ‘amen’ to that.”

“Me too,” Sandy added.

They turned to Michael, as if looking for guidance. He shrugged his narrow shoulders, said, “Okay. This way, then.”

5:05 p.m.

They walked to the south, following the B subway line that led to Brooklyn. As they moved, Nicole noticed the emergency lights starting to dim into a futile, murky glow, barely illuminating a foot around them.
The batteries must be wearing down
, she thought. They still had enough light to dispel all the darkness with the flashlights obtained from the engineer’s car and the hardhats with miner lights on them, but the farther they went, the more the darkness and dampness seemed to creep up on them. Everything was dry at first in the tunnel, but soon Nicole felt the incessant sensation that the air was growing moist. When she reached out and touched one of the brick walls, her hand felt slightly wet, grimy instead of dusty. In the distance, she heard water dripping. Otherwise the tunnel was unnervingly quiet.

The group seemed to have come to an unspoken agreement about remaining silent as they traversed the tunnels. Nicole led, holding her Colt out in front of herself, fully loaded, her left arm supporting the weapon-heavy right hand. Sandy kept close behind her, followed by Michael, who whispered that they should stay on the track lines, and that this would lead them to the sewer system that served to sweep the shit out of New York. Beth and Alice walked side by side, awkwardly carrying their metal poles, their eyes darting around the cavern. Sometimes, Alice’s brass knuckles would clink against the pole. John was directly on their heels, and Taylor Burns walked at the rear of the group with Howard by his side. The two of them took turns walking backwards to make certain nothing would take the group by surprise from the rear.

They had been walking for almost five minutes when they passed a group of cell-like areas embedded in the brickwork of the tunnel, little rooms no more than five feet by four feet wide. Some contained tools, brooms, mops, and such for the janitors to maintain the tunnels, and others were empty.

Michael said, “These are handy in case trains come. You can hop inside as they go by.”

Burns nodded, but said, “Let’s keep a close eye on those. Who knows what’s hiding in the dark.”

As they moved past the little rooms, their flashlights slowly filled the black interiors with a sweeping illumination, first exposing one side, then the middle as they walked past, then the other, like a dark wave of living shadows slipping by. Sometimes the light exposed a startled rat, which usually darted away through a hole in the back of the room, but one huge rodent rushed toward the group as they stepped past it. Burns strode forward and kicked the beast to Howard, like a perfect soccer pass. The dancer then slammed the creature with his pole until it was little more than a bloody, smashed stain on the concrete.

Nicole was finding it difficult discerning distances, and she felt as if they’d traveled a mile or so before she asked Michael.

“Not that far,” he said. “Of course, miles and stuff don’t mean very much when you’re living on the zigzag.” In response to her questioning look, he said, “You don’t really follow the straight and narrow paths down here. Not when you’re homeless and looking for a warm place or just a space to lie down for a while. You have to avoid the guards and the cops and sanitation crews. Sometimes, you really want to avoid the other homeless people. Been some real crazies down here since the Reagan era when they cut off all that funding to the mental hospitals. Then again, I’d rather deal with a crazy person than one of those werewolf things. Now those are some scary nightmares.”

Nicole thought over the phrase – living on the zigzag, and she smiled, liking it. She figured herself for a zigzagger, someone who avoided bumping into other people. She had been very withdrawn as a child, and she’d become even more isolated as a teenage girl traveling from army base to army base, barely getting acquainted with a new batch of kids before moving on to the next base. When she’d realized she was a lesbian, she didn’t dare tell anyone, wrapping herself up in a cocoon of self-delusion and lies. That’s why the few interpersonal relationships she suffered were so important to her. Burns was a steady figure in her life for a couple of years now, almost a father figure, but also a kind of buddy. And Sandy was the light of her life. She literally became sunnier when they were together, smiling more, interacting with other people more often. Otherwise, she was a clam, shut tight and silent and patient, always living on the fringe. Behind those crosshairs, within the camouflage, she was still that lonely teenager, hoping she might get to stay in one place long enough to become close with someone.

Now she envisioned herself in this diverse group of people – people who were looking up to her as a hero, har har – and the thought scared the living daylights out of her. These people respected her, maybe even admired her, and she barely knew them. As she walked, she found herself in conversation often with Michael, who seemed like the kind of man who could be her friend, or at least a good drinking buddy.

And if she ever needed a good shot of Nob Creek, this was the time.

A shot of courage, a burst of warm liquid steadfastness.

That hotel room she’d left that afternoon (had it really only been that afternoon?) was calling her name. She had found it so stifling being alone there while Sandy went to the city, even when Burns visited her. It had been difficult for her to relax.

When exactly was the last time I let myself relax?
she wondered.
Been a long, long time.

The group moved with the slight curve of the tunnel, marching into the darkness. Nicole craned her neck to see around the bend of the gentle curve, but Michael continued walking, seemingly not cognizant of his surroundings and the dangers that could lurk there. They were approaching another set of small rooms to the right, three in a row, safe havens for the track workers.

Nicole checked the first one and found it empty except for a small table with a deck of cards scattered across the top. She motioned everyone forward while checking out the second empty room.