The Immortality Virus (36 page)

Grace clutched her hand as disruptor fire continued to slice through the air around her. Everywhere she looked, bodies writhed on the ground.

Suddenly, the gravestone that had been her shield disintegrated, and Grace snapped back to the present. She had no shield and no hope unless she–
Move!
She darted behind the next headstone, a much smaller one that wouldn’t survive one hit.

Focus.
Time to figure out where she was and what she needed to do next. At the moment, she was still surrounded by Sewer Rats, but they didn’t pay her any attention. They had all either died or hidden behind the larger headstones, which were disappearing around them.

Meanwhile, the combatants firing at them were entrenched in and around several large buildings. They had obviously had more time to prepare, but they weren’t just firing at the Rats–there were at least two groups firing at each other. How they could tell friend from foe escaped Grace, but it wasn’t her problem. They were all her foes right now.

One thing was certain–she needed better shelter than this pathetic headstone.

She scanned the area around her, looking for an out. Then she spotted it–just over the next rise–a mausoleum.

Briefly, she entertained the notion of heading for the exit, but a quick glance in that direction told her the fighting near the iron gate was more intense than anywhere else. Certain death awaited her there. She wondered how Sam and Matt were holding out.

Holding her breath, she counted
one…two…go!
She ran full-out to the next statue, already occupied by one of the Rats who gave her a startled look as she slid in behind him.

“You!” he said.

“Me.”

“You led us into a trap.”

“I led you to Jordan Lacklin. I assumed you knew there’d be other interested parties.”

“Won’t be anything alive in this place for long,” he muttered. “We’re all going to join the dead here.”

Privately, she agreed with him, but she was not yet ready to give up. She counted to three again and then took off for the next headstone, with was thankfully unoccupied.

All around her, there were disruptors blaring and pieces of statue flying. Grace had no idea how many soldiers the others had lost, but she spotted dozens of dead Rats all around her.

How many did that leave? How many had come on the train? They had squeezed on, body pressing against body, packed onto the trains so that she could taste the sweat of the putrid bodies pressed into her.

How many others had come to fight? How many had made it through the city walls? Or were some of these Kansas City locals?

Grace was about to dart to the next statue when she felt someone drop down beside her. Without thinking, she whirled around and grabbed him around the throat. She was moments away from snapping his neck when she recognized Sam wheezing beneath her grasp.

“It’s me!” he gasped.

“Sorry.” She let go, relief washing over her that Sam remained alive. She fought back the urge to kiss him. “Where’s Matt?”

“We got separated on the train,” Sam said. “Why the hell’d you bring us here?”

She did not offer an explanation. “I’m headed to the mausoleum over the hill. Follow closely behind me if you want to live.”

The next two statues in line had been destroyed by disruptor blasts. They would have to run quite a distance to get to the next bit of cover, but they had to move fast. Most of the big headstones in this area had already been destroyed, and the one they were hiding behind shattered around them just as they made a break for the cover of the next statue.

“Ahh!” Sam cried out when they were halfway to cover.

Grace ignored him and continued running. Only when she was safely seated behind the tall cross did she turn back to see Sam flailing around in the open, one arm missing from the elbow down.

Her mind tried to slip back in time again, but she yanked it back–hard.

“Get over here, you fool!” Grace hissed. Another disruptor blast barely missed his head, and he seemed to get the idea. He ran full-out and dove behind Grace just as the cross lost one of its limbs.

“My arm!” Sam moaned. It was a burnt, blackened stump, but it wasn’t their biggest problem.

“You’ll lose more than that if you don’t stay calm. We can fix the arm–if you live. Trust me, I know about this.”

Sam didn’t seem to be listening. He clutched the stump of his arm and continued moaning.

She was back in the sub-basement of Coopersfield Plantation again. The men advanced on her...

Shake it off. “Let’s go!” Grace said. She did not wait to see if he followed her as she ran behind a tall headstone and then immediately darted behind another, and another. She did not stop or look back. She could see the mausoleum clearly now, and the fighting near there seemed less intense. With luck, she would be the first one inside and barricade herself in–picking off soldiers one at a time if they dared approach.

When she had a clear view of the entrance, however, her heart skipped a beat. There, lit by the red fire of the disruptors’ lasers and the bright moon, she saw Meg, leaning flat against the wall of the stone tomb. Occasionally she thrust her weapon through the entrance and fired into the bowels of the tomb before flattening herself back against the wall.

Meg!
Grace’s heart leaped at the sight of the girl but a moment later deflated–the girl was in mortal danger and Grace had done that. She briefly wondered how the girl had even gotten here, but had no time to think about it and less time to ask.

“What...now?” Sam panted.

Grace hesitated. She had no idea, but as she sat there, caught up in indecision, their cover disintegrated around them by yet another blast of a disruptor. “Run!” she shouted.

She didn’t pause for breath or to consider whether Sam had listened–she had one goal in mind and she had to get there. Meg spotted her as she approached and aimed a disruptor at her, but then she lowered it in recognition. Instead, she aimed to Grace’s right and fired at someone else–someone who had almost gotten a clean shot at Grace.

Grace reached the relative shelter of the mausoleum’s stone wall and gasped for breath. She had never run so quickly. She could scarcely believe she had made it, and had to pat herself to make sure all her parts were still intact.

Alex came around the corner then, two disruptors in his hands. “I got us some charged disruptors…Grace!”

She didn’t have time for a reunion. Quickly, she whirled around, searching for Sam. She spotted him mere feet from the mausoleum, hopping towards her on one foot. The other had been blown off.

The fear and pain in his eyes were intense and for a moment Grace considered going to him and trying to help him, but only for a moment. The fighting still raged all around them and aiding Sam was more likely to kill them both than save him.

“Sam!” she cried. For a moment, she had a picture of her life without Sam–really without him. He had been absent for decades and yet she’d always known he was out there. She could always have found him, and recently he had alluded to the possibility they could have had more. Now, after days of trying not to think of him at all, she suddenly felt frightened by the prospect of a world without him.

To Grace’s surprise, Alex was the one to act. Setting aside the mutual enmity the two men felt for one another, Alex risked his life to run to Sam’s side, pick him up off the ground, and carry him back to the mausoleum.

Sam seemed to be having trouble talking as he slid down the stone wall to the ground. “Why?” he managed.

Alex did not have time to answer because at that moment, a disruptor blast came from the heart of the mausoleum.

“It’s occupied,” Meg explained unnecessarily. “We think only one guy’s in there–the caretaker–but we can’t convince him to let us join him there.”

Another disruptor blast nearly missed Meg. Grace whirled, spotted a Sewer Rat, and shot him before he had a chance to get off another blast.

“We have to get inside,” Grace said. “We can’t defend ourselves out here.”

“He’s hiding behind a sarcophagus,” Alex said. He threw himself around the corner and fired another shot inside. An instant later, an echoing blast came from within.

“I’ll do it,” Sam gasped.

“You stay there,” Grace said, “you’re in no shape to—”

“Shoot me,” Sam managed. It was clear what he meant–she would have to shoot him to stop him. Already, he was using his one leg and one arm to crawl into the open mouth of the tomb.

“What are you waiting for?” Grace asked. “Give him some cover fire!”

They took it in turns to fire into the entrance, aiming high so they would not hit Sam. The echoing disruptor blasts told them whoever was inside was still looking too high, expecting someone to walk in.

Finally, Grace heard a strangled cry from inside and the sound of disruptors discharging. She fired another shot into the interior of the tomb but there was no answering shot. She took that as her cue and rushed inside, her weapon ready before her.

Two figures struggled inside the tomb–Sam, missing an arm and a leg, and the caretaker, who was wheezing and out of breath. Grace spotted two disruptors lying on the floor a few feet from the fight and she scooped them up.

“Break it up!” Grace told them.

The caretaker faltered as he glanced at her. Sam gave him one last shove in the chest and then pulled away, clenching a small metal object in his fist.

Suddenly, the caretaker not only looked out of shape, but also incredibly old. Grace stared from the metal object to the caretaker, but comprehension was slow in coming. It couldn’t be Jordan. What would he be doing in a graveyard? She couldn’t have led all those soldiers right to him.

It was a while before anyone broke the silence, and when Alex finally did, his single, whispered word sounded like a cannon. “Granddad.”

Jordan Lacklin backed into a corner while Sam collapsed into a heap on the floor. “We found him,” he breathed. “Now we just need to find Matt.” But he didn’t lift his wrist to make the call. Instead, he closed his eyes.

For a terrifying moment, Grace thought he was dead, but when she grabbed his wrist to check his pulse, she breathed a sigh of relief. He was unconscious, which was probably for the best at the moment.

“Is this the guy you were looking for?” Meg asked. “I looked in that cabin but he wasn’t there; only some guy wearing black that I think was waiting for him in case he showed. I convinced him I was just lost so he didn’t think I knew anything.”

“Ethan must think I’m pretty stupid,” Jordan said.

“You talked to Uncle Ethan?” Alex asked.

Jordan shrugged. “He did most of the talking. He never did know how to listen. Thinks he knows everything.”

Grace smiled. That seemed like an apt description of the man she’d met.

“I wish you’d called me,” Alex said. “I would have helped you. I’d have found you a better place to live.”

“Better than with my Margaret?” Jordan shook his head. He stooped over Sam’s unconscious form and took back the holographic suit. He placed it on his chest, but it fell to the floor with a clatter. “Damn, he broke it.”

Suddenly, a disruptor blast came in through the entrance. Everyone ducked, and Grace yelled at Meg, “Cover the entrance!”

Meg and Alex sprinted for opposite sides of the entranceway and took turns firing into the twilit graveyard.

“Have you come to take me back to prison?” Jordan asked.

As distracted as she was by the fighting, it was a moment before Grace realized that Jordan was addressing her. “What?”

“Matt Stanton hired you to look for me. I know you didn’t come here the other day looking for family history.”

Grace remembered her cover story and her face turned slightly pink. “Matt wants to save the world. What do you want to do?”

“Matt’s a liar. He doesn’t want to save the world; he wants everyone to die again.” Jordan studied the metal object and after a while, he smiled. “I can fix it. I just need some tools.”

“The fighting has moved away,” Alex said, though he did not holster his weapon.

“Doesn’t matter,” Jordan said. “I might have had a chance before that idiot broke my suit, but somebody’ll take me now.”

“Don’t talk like that,” Alex said. “You used to say there was always hope until you’re d–” Alex broke off and looked out into the graveyard.

“Finish it,” Jordan ordered.

“Dead.” Alex didn’t look at him.

“That’s right.” Jordan glanced down at Sam’s prone form. “He doesn’t look good.”

“He’ll be fine when we get him back to Medicorp.” She wasn’t as certain as she wished she were. Sam was missing his right arm below the elbow and his left leg below the knee. The leg wound was bleeding–not badly; it was partially cauterized, but bad enough that they couldn’t sit here in the middle of a war zone for hours on end and pretend he’d be okay.

Grace unfastened her thermal coat and tore some material from the bottom of her shirt, which she fastened in a hasty field dressing around Sam’s leg.

“That won’t keep long,” Jordan told her.