The Serophim Breach (The Serophim Breach Series) (44 page)

“Lab,” he said curtly.

“Thad, it’s Karen,” she said. “We’re in trouble.”

Instantly, his voice was full of concern.

“What’s wrong?”

She told him as quickly as she could what had happened, about the men looking to claim Brandon, and finally the gunshot; as she finished, she was embarrassed to find herself choking back tears.

“Are they still there?” Thad asked in a low voice.

“I’m not sure,” she answered. “They hung up the phone.”

“Can you see them? Hear anything?” Thad pressed.

“Um . . . wait one second. I’ll go see,” she answered, fear knotting in her stomach. She crossed the room to the open door and gathered all her courage, then crouched down low and peeked her head out into the hallway.

The reinforced door that led back out into the main corridor of the hospital had a small window in the center of it that would allow doctors to identify nurses they called for if they did not have ID or the code had been recently changed. Through it, she saw only the empty hallway outside; the nurse’s station appeared to be unoccupied.

A shadow flitted across the corner of the wall she could see through the window, and instantly she knew they were at the door. She listened hard, stretching her neck out farther, and heard a nearly inaudible
wssht
, followed by two small beeps. They had the nurse’s ID and were trying to get into the hallway. She listened as they tried the handle, relief washing over her as she realized that they didn’t know the code and were likely unaware that one was needed. This would buy her some time—she hoped.

She moved back to the phone and told Thad what she had heard.

“They’re trying to get in?” he repeated.

“Yes, Thad. They’re here for Brandon; I’m sure that part was true,” she answered. “What should I do?”

He was silent for a long moment, and she fought the urge to shout at him to help her. She knew he was analyzing the situation, looking for a solution, the way he would do in a lab. Finally, he spoke up again.

“Someone called up about him too, right?” he said.

She told him that was correct, and he was quiet again.

“I have to hang up the phone for a minute, Karen,” he said. “The Marines are downstairs. I just have to get someone up here and figure out who was calling up. I don’t think there’s any line out to the tents, so whoever is downstairs might be our best bet.”

She nodded, the first heavy tears dropping onto her cheeks. She was frightened and completely alone. Worse, Thad couldn’t help her—the men outside were armed and would likely shoot him, as they had probably done the nurse. So she knew that waiting was her only option, but hanging up the phone felt like snipping her only lifeline.

“I’ll call you right back,” he continued. “You’re in Brandon’s room? If you haven’t already, try to bar the door. I’ll be fast.”

And then he was gone, the line dead, and she was all alone listening to the “beep beep” that came from the end of the hallway every few seconds. She stood, waiting, in the center of the room, her arms tucked around her torso. Minutes ticked by, and suddenly she realized that the beeping had stopped. She stopped breathing and listened desperately, sure that they had found their way into the hallway.

She crept forward silently, listening, and was nearly to the door when she heard the same small “beep beep” sound. This time, it was followed by six slow, deliberate beeps, and the sound of the handle being jiggled. So they had realized they needed a code, but they didn’t have the code in hand. She wondered how long it would take them to find it, where Thad was, and if there was anything that could be done to save her, to save Brandon, at this point.

She pulled the door to Brandon’s room closed quietly and locked it. There was a second empty bed in the room, which she maneuvered over to the door, where she locked the wheels. It would still slide, but she hoped it might catch against the opposite wall and buy her more time; really, she hoped the entire gesture would be unnecessary.

The beeping and jiggling continued at the end of the hallway, and she sank to the ground, covering her head with her hands, and allowed herself a few seconds to feel completely and utterly helpless. The tears ran freely, and soon she was shaking with sobs. Without warning, the detached doctor in her brain clamped down on the terrified woman, and she was wiping away the tears and reminding herself that Thad would be calling back any second now.

Still, when the phone rang, she was unprepared, and every muscle in her body contracted at the sound. Embarrassed, she scrambled to the phone and snatched it up.

“Thad?”

“Karen, it was Brandon’s brother. They’re coming now—”

Thad was still speaking, but she was no longer listening. At almost the exact moment she picked up the phone, the man who had identified himself as Marks had appeared at the window in Brandon’s door. He surveyed the room, his eyes moving first to Brandon passed out on the gurney, then finding her kneeling on the floor; a strange expression hardened on his face. She thought it almost looked like pity.

She had locked the door, but she could hear that he was working at the lock and was sure it would be free in a matter of moments.

“Thad, he’s at the door—”

“Hang on; they’re on their way. Just don’t let him get in—”

The lock clicked free, and Marks put his weight into the door. The gurney wheels screeched terribly against the floor, moving a few centimeters. She heard him growl with frustration, and somewhere far away, Thad’s voice shouting for her not to let them in.

Something inside her snapped, and she was on her feet and throwing her weight against the gurney, her teeth gritted with the exertion as she tried desperately to keep the door from moving any farther. The pain in her leg and ankle flared up ferociously, and she nearly buckled over, barely able to muster the strength to remain on her feet. But she could feel the door and the gurney shuddering as Marks pushed his full weight against hers, over and over, each time the door opening a little more. Instinctively, she threw her weight back against him, gaining back a fraction of the distance, but the panic that fueled her could not give her the strength to match his weight.

She thought he was calling out to her, telling her to stop, but then she realized that the door had slid closed again, and the voice calling out was directed at Marks, not at her. Then gunshots rang out, two short, staccato bursts, and then a few more-measured, steady bursts. Someone cried out, and something heavy fell to the floor. She heard more shouts from farther away, another struggle, and then footsteps heading for Brandon’s room. She braced herself against the gurney again.

The first face that appeared in the window was a young man with a military haircut. He caught her eyes and shouted, “Here!”

The next face that appeared belonged to Kai Kavida, and Karen collapsed onto the gurney in tears.

The young Marine had been happy to help Kai drag the unconscious man who called himself Marks into Brandon’s hospital room, where they secured him to the second gurney at the ankles, waist, and wrists. Karen had settled into a chair near Brandon’s bed and was attempting to gather her wits. Kai noticed that a wrapped wound on her lower calf had reopened in the struggle, soaking her bandages in short order. The doctor seemed not to notice.

In the brief moment of calm that followed, Kai introduced himself and Paul to the Marine, who shook Kai’s hand and smiled.

“Casey,” he offered, replacing his hand on his weapon. He couldn’t have been more than twenty, just a skinny kid with a good-natured face and a Texas accent.

Kai was grateful that their guide had the gun. When they had exited the elevator and made for the psychiatric ward, he had not expected to meet armed resistance. Despite the lab tech’s warnings that the men upstairs were likely armed, even Casey had been taken by surprise when the first shot was fired at them; he recovered quickly, and their assailant had been on the receiving end of a well-placed bullet. The man Karen called Strimmel had been sprawled on the floor in a pool of his own blood before he realized he’d been shot.

Kai still had the pistol that Casey had taken off the dead man, the weight of it in his hand both strange and comforting. The young Marine had been able to knock Marks off his feet with a bullet that exploded through his thigh, followed by a vicious blow from the butt of his weapon that knocked the larger man out cold. Marks’s pistol had gone to Paul, who set it gingerly aside as soon as the action was over.

Karen did her best to explain to them what had happened, briefly updating Kai and Paul on their brother’s condition and then launching into a quick retelling of the events of the past half hour. When she said that the two men had identified themselves as CDC agents, Casey’s ears perked up, and he shook his head.

“No, ma’am,” he said gruffly, embarrassed at his own interruption. “We haven’t had any word from the CDC or the mainland since 1600 yesterday. And believe me, we’ve been trying to raise them.”

He told the group he’d wait with them until Marks regained consciousness, and Kai thought the Marine must be just as curious as the rest of them for information. Casey moved to stand near the door casually, shoving a pinch of tobacco between his lower lip and gums as he settled in to wait. Except for that brief moment, Kai noticed that his hands never left his weapon.

“So, Brandon’s okay?” Paul asked.

Karen looked up at him, a look of uncertainty on her face.

“Well, it’s hard to say. In some ways, he’s better than he was when he arrived. His blood samples aren’t showing the same . . . behaviors as they were originally. But his white blood cells were decimated by whatever infected him. We haven’t had a chance to take more blood to check the count again, but you see how yellow his skin is? That’s not what we want to see.” She hated to give the brothers bad news but knew that coddling them would be pointless.

“But, he’s himself again,” Paul continued. Kai heard the same concern and hope in his brother’s voice that he felt welling up in his chest.

“Yes, he’s coherent and acting relatively normal,” she answered. “I think he’s out so heavily because of the morphine. He had some pretty serious injuries. But again, I’m just . . . not sure.”

Their conversation was cut short by a low moan from Marks, who shifted tentatively on his gurney. He opened his eyes, blinking slowly, and let out an expletive. Immediately, Kai felt unprepared for an interrogation; he had no idea where to start with the man. Still, he was doing his best to appear calm and collected, when Karen Lau suddenly stood up and limped over toward the man’s bed.

“Why did you want Brandon Kavida?” she demanded, her voice edged with flint.

Marks squinted at her, his eyes searching her expression. Karen’s face was emotionless except for the hard set of her lips. Marks shifted his weight again, the shackles clattering as he moved; he licked his lips and tried to prop himself up, wincing as the flesh of his ruined leg moved and bled freshly.

“Fucking prick,” he spat, glaring at Casey, who merely shrugged, returning the vitriol with a small, self-satisfied smile.

“You’re luckier than your friend,” he answered and gave another shrug. “My aim was a little off with you.”

Marks scoffed, gritting his teeth against the obvious pain. His gaze moved back to Karen, who stood near the foot of his gurney.

“Well, I will be as much help to you as he,” was his only response. As he spoke, Kai heard the same strange kind of accent that he had detected in Nordec, which he pointed out quietly to his brother. When he mentioned Nordec’s name, he saw Marks react briefly before he was able to feign disinterest; it was obvious they knew one another.

“We ran into another two-man unit like this,” Kai continued louder. “They were at the Pearl City Police station.”

“That’s a secondary evacuation center,” Casey said, his eyebrows raised.

“They were armed too,” Paul chimed in. “And dressed pretty similar, although the guys at the station had war paint on their faces.”

At that, Marks chuckled, and Karen Lau whipped around to face him again.

“Start talking,” she said, her voice low and dangerous.

Marks tilted his face up to gaze at her defiantly; if he felt threatened, he didn’t look it. Karen watched him for a moment longer, and then stepped away from the bed. Once she had put some distance between herself and the gurney, she stopped and looked back over her shoulder. Kai frowned; the pose was vaguely reminiscent of a pinup model. Was she hoping to woo the information from the man? His confusion was cut short when Karen stuck out her injured calf and pointed to the bloodied bandage.

“You see that, Agent Marks?” she asked. “Not long ago, I was bitten by a crazed patient.”

For the first time, Kai thought the man’s hardened façade looked less stable. Casey reacted as well, his hand shifting slightly on his gun. Kai caught his eye and tried to communicate patience to him, although he knew the Marine did not intend to fire on Dr. Lau. Even when their fence had been attacked, the Marines had not fired a single shot at the assailants, and Kai thought it was unlikely that the killing of civilians would start now.

“From what I’ve seen today, I’d say I’ve got”—she glanced at the clock—“fifteen minutes or so before I’m a violent lunatic, like him. Like the people out on the streets. I’ve been feeling the effects already.”

To emphasize her point, she lifted a hand to her forehead, shielding her eyes momentarily from the light. With a light but menacing step, she moved back toward him slowly.

“I’m willing to bet you know what this shit is. And I’m willing to bet you know how it spreads,” she continued. “Well, guess what? I do too. So, what do you say I bandage that wound for you, and then we’ll see if you feel like talking?”

With that, she reached down and peeled the wrapping from her calf and lifted the soaked material up into Marks’s line of sight. Instantly, his expression dissolved into a look of naked fear, and he struggled to pull his leg away from Karen as she approached. His eyes were glued to the bandage as he thrashed against the restraints, and soon he began to call out for her to wait. Unmoved, she continued forward with the confident intensity of a predator.