The Serophim Breach (The Serophim Breach Series) (45 page)

“Wait!” he shouted. “Shit, just wait a second! What do you want to know?” He was nearly frantic, pulling hard against the restraints and wincing as dark blood pumped out of his wound, soaking the gurney.

“Why did you want Brandon?” Karen repeated her original question. Blood was trickling down her ankle with each step she took, but it was clear to Kai that she was beyond feeling. Awe and revulsion mingled inside of him as he watched her performance.

“He’s on the list,” Marks responded quickly, his eyes still glued to the bloody bandage.

Karen stopped, but did not lower the gauze.

“What list?” she pressed coldly.

Marks looked around the room, weighing his options and licking his lips again.

“I suppose there’s no harm in telling,” Marks finally responded. “It doesn’t matter much at this point either way. Unless you want to let me go.”

He made a show of looking around the room, searching each of their faces for some sign of pity. Finding none, he sighed loudly.

“Well, like I said, it doesn’t matter much either way,” he said. Then he looked up at Karen, who still waited at the foot of his bed, bloody bandage in hand.

“What do you mean?” Paul asked. Kai fought down his frustration; he had wanted to bite at Marks’s bait too, but he knew the man was stalling. His theory was confirmed by the satisfied look on Marks’s face as he shifted his glance to Paul.

“I mean the generators at this hospital are going to fail. Probably soon. And well before that time, your main concern will be trying to find a way out of here—not figure out my purpose for wanting your brother dead.”

Kai balked at the blatant admission of guilt. The words stoked a new kind of fury, different from the purely defensive reactions he had experienced when attacked by the maniacs outside. He felt his hands curl into fists as the first wave of real hatred rolled over him.

“The generators are designed to last for days,” he heard Karen retort.

Kai tried to mimic her calm to avoid chasing down the red herrings Marks was throwing out; they needed more information, and that knowledge was the last chain rooting him to the spot where he stood. But once they had what they needed, he knew he was going to kill the man where he lay.

Marks shrugged in response to Karen’s assertion.

“Then I must be bluffing,” he replied casually.

At that moment, they heard a warning shout from outside, followed by the
pop pop
of rounds being fired and the ugly sound of metal grating and twisting against metal. More voices began shouting, punctuated by a low
thud thud thud
.

“Oh shit,” Casey said. “That’s tear gas.”

By the time they made it to the window, the scene outside was erupting into chaos. A large black van had plowed into a section of the perimeter fence, which now tilted at a dangerous angle. The Marines were shouting orders, their weapons sighted in, as the van backed away from the impact point and into the deserted street, its windshield marred by circular, webbed cracks where the guards had fired at the driver.

“Bulletproof glass,” Casey muttered.

Suddenly, the van revved its engine and lurched forward again, plowing into the same section of the fence, which caved easily beneath its tires. The Marines fired a few more rounds before they were forced back by the onslaught; but as the fence crashed down, Kai saw one Marine fall beneath it, his left leg pinned down. He didn’t see the Marine call out, but immediately two others scrambled back toward him to help as the rest took up defensive positions, firing more tear gas into the street and pocking the side of the van with bullet holes.

“Why would they—”

Paul’s question was cut short by an eerie wail, dozens of voices lifted together, like a war cry or a siren.

The streets were choked with tear gas, but from their vantage point, Kai could make out a mob of people rushing toward the hospital, pouring out from alleys and adjoining streets, sluicing through the billowing yellow clouds of gas as if they were nothing more than smoke. The pinned Marine still struggled to free his leg as his friends pulled at his arms desperately, making little progress. The mob closed in.

“Any chance those are just smoke bombs?” Kai asked quietly.

Casey shook his head. “The color is different. That gas should put a grown man down in seconds, especially running through it like that.”

The people waiting in the parking lot were on their feet, watching spellbound as the Marines worked to pull the injured guard to safety, closing ranks around him and returning immediately to their defensive postures. The mob was less than twenty yards from the downed section of fence before the first wave of panic rippled through the civilian ranks, those nearest to the fence turning and making for the hospital. In seconds, the orderly crowd became a roiling mass of bodies stampeding for the ER and perceived safety.

Without a word, Casey spun on his heel and was gone from the room, his heavy footsteps echoing down the hall as he made for the elevators. Kai knew immediately that the young man was running to the fight, not away.

“I would take the stairs,” Marks called after him, his voice callous and mocking.

Outside, the sound of the advancing maniacs mingled with the voices of the Marines and the frightened civilians, their shouts and screams a terrifying, animalistic counterpart to the sounds of the panicked mob surging toward the hospital walls. The crazed attackers were beginning to clamber over the van, which suddenly lurched backward, reversing back into the street. Kai watched in mute horror as some of the attackers fell beneath its tires as it reversed, and more as it moved forward again, pulling quickly down the street and disappearing around the corner.

The gaping hole that was left in the perimeter fence was indefensible. The Marines nearest the gate had set off more tear gas, and several continued firing at the van until it disappeared. Most were moving back toward the now panicked civilians in an organized line, their weapons trained on the predators flooding in through the gate at breathtaking speed. Even the ones who had been wounded by the van continued forward, their mouths gnashing, hands grasping, as they dragged themselves along the asphalt and were trampled by the other members of the pack.

“Why aren’t they firing?” Karen whispered.

And then the lights went out. Brandon’s heart monitor fell silent, and the buzzing of the fluorescents above them ceased. Seconds later, the first gunshot rang out from the parking lot. Kai had seen the muzzle flash come from inside the crowd of people trying to get to the hospital doors before the attackers got to them; another group of Marines, dressed in riot gear and wielding shields, had moved to the front line, taking the place of those with rifles, who now moved off to help try to get the crowd to safety. When the front lines of the attacking mob collided with the Marines, Kai sucked in a quick breath. The violence of the impact was astounding.

“There’s nowhere for them to go,” Karen murmured in stunned dismay as she watched the civilians. “Even if they can hold the ER doors open and get everyone inside . . . they won’t keep the rest out.”

The Marines continued trying to move everyone into the building, but Kai knew Karen was right. Dozens of the lunatics still flowed through the gate, and soon the number of civilians would be matched by the number of attackers. They would be overrun in no time. As he watched, a branch of the attacking mob headed off for the triage tents, and his stomach twisted at the thought of Jones, alone and virtually helpless on a cot.

“This is what they’re doing,” Paul said quietly. “They’re helping it spread.”

He turned to look at Marks, who lay quietly on his gurney, watching them like a cornered animal.

“You want us overrun,” Paul continued.

Kai watched the restrained man study Paul’s face before he responded.

“If it is contained, it can be traced,” he said finally, his strange accent breaking through. “Those responsible would prefer to keep their involvement from becoming public knowledge.”

“We have to get out of here,” Kai broke in, his mind reeling. “Our friend is heading to a marina, and we’re taking a boat to the next island,” he rambled, turning to Karen. “We have to take Brandon, and we have to get to them and get off the island.”

Karen shook her head, her eyes strangely glazed.

“I don’t know if he’ll survive,” she responded, looking at Brandon’s limp, sallow figure. “Without white blood cells, he can’t fight infection, and that might not be all we have working against us. We have to stay here, where I can treat him—”

Kai grabbed her roughly by the shoulders and forced her to look at him.

“Karen. They’ve tampered with the generators. The power isn’t coming back on, and soon everyone downstairs is going to be one of
them.
How long before they find the stairs?”

Her eyes cleared as he spoke. She met his gaze directly and said, “He’ll die if you move him, Kai. I can tell you that with one hundred percent certainty. He’ll need a constant supply of antibiotics, observation, and regular blood tests. And how are you going to transport him anywhere? I mean . . . just listen.” She gestured toward the window.

In the silence that followed, they listened to the screams of pain, of panic, the strange barking cries of the attackers and their shouts of glee as they burrowed deeper into the triage tents. Kai was still formulating his answer when Marks chimed in.

“He may not survive out there, but none of us will survive in here,” he said evenly.

Before he knew it, Kai was straddling the man on the bed, raining down vicious blows to his face and torso, strange choking sounds issuing from his chest as he pounded Marks’s features into a bloody mess. He felt arms trying to restrain him, but he yanked himself free and landed another powerful blow before he was thrown to the floor.

When his vision cleared and the thudding pulse in his ears lessened, he realized that Casey had returned to the room.

“Just calm down,” the Marine was saying, his hands still restraining Kai’s arms.

“I’m good,” Kai snapped, and he felt the pressure lift slightly. He allowed himself a quick glance at Marks and found with satisfaction that someone had shoved a wad of gauze in the man’s mouth. To the left of the gurney, Karen Lau gave him a tiny, conspiratorial nod before she stepped away to check on Brandon.

“Why are you back here?” Kai asked Casey, trying to shift the focus away from his violent outburst.

“The door at the end of the hall is locked. I can’t get out. I thought maybe the doc would be able to get it open.”

But Karen was already shaking her head.

“I didn’t even think—the minute we lost power, we got locked in. That door is built to remain locked from the outside if the power goes out, containing patients in this ward.”

Casey’s face fell as she spoke, and Kai felt a strange kind of camaraderie with the young man who wanted so badly to run to the front lines and help his friends. Instead, they were stuck together in a hospital room, unable to get to the people who needed them the most.

“Well, I suppose that makes this the safest place we can be at the moment,” Paul muttered. Once again, Karen shook her head.

“It can still be opened from the outside. Doctors have to be able to get in, even if the patients can’t get out.”

They sat in silence, the minutes stretching out. Kai felt like a caged animal, his mind turning over and over as he considered the reality of their situation. After a moment, he looked up and watched Karen, who stood next to Brandon, one hand on his chest and two fingers on his neck. She wrote something down and then began prepping a needle, presumably for a blood sample. Kai wished desperately he had something productive to do.

Finally, he turned to face Paul, who had sunk to the floor against the opposite wall, his head lowered, eyes glued to the floor.

“Paul,” Kai said, his voice husky. When his brother looked up, Kai saw his eyes were rimmed with red.

“I need the walkie-talkie.”

~

As they drove toward the coast, the sun began to rise over the island, and it became evident just how extensive the damage really was. Entire streets were lined with buildings that still burned; others were smoldering, thick with smoke, the shops and stores crumbling to their foundations. Small groups of people roamed freely, some moving furtively from alley to alley, others sprinting after Mike’s SUV as they passed, the strangeness of their movement indicating they were no longer fully themselves. In the distance, plumes of smoke billowed up from the direction of Honolulu, darkening the sky, turning the predawn light a hazy ochre.

“Are we close?” Heather asked, turning to look behind them as they rounded another corner. For blocks now, they had been picking up more and more followers, dozens of people running, stumbling, even crawling down the streets after them, like minnows trailing a piece of bait.

Mike nodded.

“Just a few more miles.”

They passed a sign that said “Pearl Marina,” and Mike told them that was where they were headed. A few minutes passed before Sarah heard the ever-present radio static cut out, and Kai’s voice filled the cab.

“Mike? If you can, please respond. Over.”

Mike kept his hands on the wheel, jutting his chin at the radio and saying to Heather, “Can you get that?”

“Kai? It’s Heather. My dad is driving, but we’re almost to the marina. Where are you?”

Static sizzled for a few seconds before Kai responded.

“We’re still at the hospital. Can I—”

Hearing her brother’s voice break sent a shiver of dread down into Sarah’s gut. Something was wrong, she knew instantly.

“Can I talk to Sarah?” Kai continued.

Heather handed over the radio, and Sarah swallowed hard before she pressed down the button and spoke.

“Hey, Kai.” She did her best to sound strong. “Did you get Brandon?”

“We’re with him, kiddo. And Dr. Lau is here too. How are you?”

“Um, I’m okay. A little scared, but okay. Mike gave me a gun, but I lost it.”

Kai didn’t respond for a long moment, and Sarah realized suddenly that was probably a stupid detail to blurt out. Of course her older brother would panic at the thought of her wielding a gun.