Vampire's Day (Book 2): Zero Model (7 page)

28. Night

Walt looked nervous and tired; it was unlikely that she looked any better.

“What's the news?”

“No news. We’ve just finished the first stage of the analysis. Of course, we will recheck the results, but I'm pretty sure that the cargo was completely destroyed. I can’t guarantee that it was an organic compound; we failed to get a sample. No matter what was inside the capsule, it couldn’t withstand repeated temperature changes - we scraped the hardware compartment inside and found no trace of biological activity, no trace of anything that has an extraterrestrial origin, except for the wreckage.”

“I understand you, Francis. Now we have nothing but these fragments. But this doesn’t negate the possibility of leakage in the atmosphere and ocean.”

“Yes, there is such a possibility, even though the aerodynamic heated to two thousand degrees during the passage through the atmosphere. We just can’t predict the possible consequences.”

“I am concerned about the events in the city. There has been no explanation for what happened there.”

“I’m also concerned about the incident. A few hours after the lander was brought into the city, there was shooting and large-scale fires. Offered a version that local bandits simply not shared our reward for the Prometheus, but there is another possibility.”

“There is a possibility that event was caused one way or another by the leaks. Prometheus was there almost half a day without being quarantined. We could try to find someone who worked in that warehouse, who saw Prometheus, and knows exactly what happened, but there is no one left. Bronson had orders not to leave any witnesses.”

“What is your opinion, Francis?”

“I don’t have an opinion yet, there is insufficient data to draw conclusions. I’m waiting for instructions now. What should I do next? At the moment I have nothing here to study, and searching for the possible leaks is beyond my ability – I need more equipment and crew.”

“Repeat the test and prepare the lander and wreckage to send over, the aircraft will be there at noon. We will decide what to do next at that point.”

The screen went dark, leaving Palmer in her tiny office alone with newly awakened pain. She managed to resist the pain for a minute or so, then opened a drawer and pulled out a jar of orange pills. Next to a jar gleamed a tiny derringer, which had accompanied her throughout the last twenty years. The time for her trusty gun hadn’t yet come, but she definitely needed the strong analgesics of her own making. However, the dose would have to increase again.

“Miss Palmer, you have to look at this. It’s from the hospital.”

She ran her eyes quickly over the paper, and then read it again, this time very carefully.

“We don’t know how to explain it; we don’t usually deal with cases like this.”

“I see. Right, listen to me carefully. We are going to take the hospital and its staff under our control, in a full quarantine regime. I will tell the Colonel.”

29. Awakening

He was in a heavy sleep in which he saw burning people, burning cars, and a burning white ball. The dream ended with a hideous nightmare where someone was nearby killing a woman. He didn’t know which woman or why she was being killed – it was hard to tell anything, in his daze, except for her cries for help. It was time for him to get up.

Waking up didn’t change the situation – the sound of killing stubbornly refused to go away along with sleep. The screaming continued, and the mist clouding his thoughts began to dissipate, so that Bronson was able to distinguish a large green spot - this was the door to the hallway, he realized at the moment that the nurse broke through it with her body.

The woman hit her back and head against the steel cabinet, but didn’t fall, because she was picked up by the man wearing gray hospital clothes, the same as Bronson. A patient. The scalpel that flashed over Bronson’s head pierced the nurse in the neck - one, two, three times, hot blood splattering on his face.

He made another swing, but this time the bloody blade didn’t reach the target. Bronson blocked it with his left hand, his right hand grasping the murderer by belt, and pulling him over. He headbutted the man, hearing a crunch of breaking nose, and completed the attack with two crushing blows to the solar plexus and groin.

“HANDS UP! HANDS UP!”

Bronson released the man with the scalpel and slowly raised his hands, the killer settling on the floor, scalpel tinkling on the rough tile. In the doorway were two soldiers, both in green overalls and masks, MP5s with long black cylinders in their hands.

It was hard for Bronson to speak, his mouth dry like a desert, his thoughts still a little confused, but he knew he must immediately make the situation clear.

“Easy, guys, easy. I'm not the enemy. Take this bastard – he just stabbed a nurse.”

The soldiers set weapons to stun, and hit the killer in the back, then quickly put handcuffs on him and plugged his mouth with a gag. One checked the pulse of the nurse, making sure she was dead. The bloodstained scalpel was secured in a plastic bag. Bronson lay motionless on the bed, waiting for further developments.

“Take him away.”

It was a familiar female voice. The soldiers dragged away the murderer, quickly returning with a foldable stretcher for the nurse, and then a third person came into the room. That was why the voice seemed familiar, thought Bronson, staring at the pale face in a transparent protective helmet.

“Hello, Chief.”

“Hello, Francis. So, they sent you?”

“Who else could they throw at this, with Walt staying in the States? As I understand it, you have questions for me?”

“Yes, questions appeared this morning. What was it now? And why the hell you wearing a protection suit?”

30
.
Conflict of interest

“Good morning, Colonel.”

“I demand an explanation! What happened at the hospital, and why aren’t you letting my men in there?”

Francis Palmer lit another cigarette, and only then gave Richardson an answer.

“The hospital has suffered an emergency with serious consequences. Your man, the driver Mike Vitelli, who entered yesterday with minor injuries - he attacked the doctor and nurses on the duty shift. He killed the doctor, stabbed her with a scalpel, then seriously wounded one of the nurses and brutally beat the second one. Bronson’s men, who are guarding the hospital, neutralized him, but, unfortunately, they couldn’t help the mortally wounded nurse. The second victim is being treated now, and her life isn’t danger. The assailant was in a condition of violent insanity.”

“I'll take care of this. You must immediately pass me this psychopath; the killer must be in my isolation ward, before we send him to be court-martialed!”

“Sorry, Colonel, but I can’t authorize it. For the safety of you and your men, Vitelli will remain under my supervision.”

“What the fuck? The driver obeys me, not you!”

“This is true, but he’s sick, dangerously sick. This temporary insanity and the flash of aggression had been caused by an infectious disease, and we suspect rabies. He isn’t a criminal, and it’s wrong to judge him as such – the driver wasn’t aware of what he was doing. You can’t interrogate him in any case; after the attack, he fell into a coma, and I can’t guarantee that we will be able to wake him up. In the meantime, we have put the hospital under strict quarantine, and can’t remove the driver; otherwise we’ll risk infecting the entire staff with this deadly disease. For the same reason we can’t transfer the wounded nurse toyou
.
First, we need to carry out a full range of laboratory tests; it’s necessary to eliminate any risk of further infection spreading. The hospital will be closed until I say so, and I recommend that you provide a plausible explanation for your men, without disclosing all the information – we don’t need panic here.”

Richardson felt a keen desire to snatch his favorite Colt Python from the holster and shoot it into the brazen fox-like face sitting in front of him, but he stilled this impulse, and left without saying goodbye. As much as he wanted to shoot Palmer, he couldn’t forget that she was still the boss, and he had to submit to her.

“Where did you come from, sons of bitches?”

Submission didn’t mean that it was forbidden to think. Those damn mercenaries were very strong, they didn’t only command here but also controlled the generals at the headquarters. They clearly didn’t want get out of here, and it seemed to confirm his worst suspicions.

“Sir, here is what you requested – the driver’s personal data.”

He quickly pulled out a folder, opening it to the last page. The medical card, yeah, that was what he needed. Mike Vitelli had undergone a routine medical examination twelve days ago and was deemed completely healthy. Less than two weeks ago, the driver was healthy, and now he’d suddenly picked up rabies and killed his doctor and nurses? The same driver that was in the warehouse next to the damn ball just when it had all started, the only one who managed to get out alive. And Palmer wanted to catch him on that old trick?

“Send the unit commanders to me!”

31. At the first glimpse of dawn

An hour before sunrise, the tops of the mountains in the east showed the first rays of the dawn, and she had already raised Butterfly in the air. Sarah did a couple of laps over the base, focusing on the scientists’ campus that had grown like mushrooms after rain. Since the rain had poured all night, and the wind was very strong, the order to raise the Bumblebee to monitor what was happening in the city had to be canceled
.
The co-pilot, thus freed from the watch, had gone to get some sleep. He had a few hours to rest, and then he and his drone would replace her at noon. Until then, she would cut circles in the sky, looking at what was going on in the city over which the Butterfly had flown so many times. It was said that there had been shooting all night, as the drug lords struggled for power, and now it was necessary to view them from the air.

Sarah took a few sips of the hated grapefruit juice, and then bit off a big chunk of a tuna sandwich, with her left hand holding the drone on course. Butterfly was a little skittish today; the ultra-light reconnaissance drone was sensitive to the wind, which was stronger than usual, and after the rain the increased humidity required some adjustments in piloting. But it was bearable; she liked to fly in wet weather, almost clinging to the bottom edge of the gray clouds.

The city below had changed dramatically since yesterday. Where once there had been port warehouses, now there was a giant blackened area of approximately two and a half square kilometers. For a moment it was almost as though she could smell a burning odor coming from the twisted wreckage. Interestingly, that is the smell of the hundreds millions dollars turned into ashes in these warehouses, along with dozens tons of marijuana, cocaine and methamphetamines?

Sarah took a while to sort out where familiar objects were, so great was the destruction. A separate hangar with an antenna had stood there, so it meant that the piles of scrap metal were all that remained of a small refinery. There were skeletons of burned cars in the parking lot, a seared and rickety water tower and a lot more that was unrecognizable.

She couldn’t see people down there and it seemed strange - she thought she’d see the local poor, who would go through the wreckage in an attempt to find something of value. But through the whole conflagration site she couldn’t detect any movement, and Sarah turned Butterfly, directing it over the city center.

“No way.”

Before the departure she had been told that the city had descended into shooting battles, with the surviving bandits working out who would take place on the empty throne of the drug empire. But the officers were convinced that the battle would end by the morning, and now she sees tha
t
the war was still in full swing.

What was going on down there didn’t seem like gang violence; instead it reminded her of footage of urban fighting in Iraq filmed by drones. A full-scale war, which involved the whole city. Neighborhoods and entire streets were burning, and she heard the clatter of machine guns and mortars bursting through the drone’s microphones.

People had come out of their homes to fight to the death with their neighbors; she saw a shootout between neighborhoods and massive slaughter wall to wall. It wasn’t possible to understand who was fighting, with whom or for what. There was no sign of leadership or coherence of units; it was complete chaos and every man for himself. And the same chaos reigned on the civilian radio that Sarah was listening to non-stop, trying to understand something in the jumble of cries for help, threats and attempts to call someone.

There was particularly strong fighting in the central part of the city, near the villas of the rich drug lords, surrounded by favela. Most of the villas had already been destroyed by fire, but one of them, surrounded on all sides by high concrete fences, still held, and Sarah saw there some signs of an organized defense. She spotted snipers and machine gunners on the flat roofs, and battalion mortars set up in the courtyard – the villa had been turned into a fortress, besieged on all sides. Faced with a decisive rebuff, the attackers had dispersed into destroyed buildings, firing on the villa with light weapons. There were a lot of attackers and their numbers continued to grow; she saw crowds drawn to the battlefield, people walking or riding on cars, trucks, bulldozers and heavy tractors.

As the reinforcements arrived, the shooting in other parts of the burning city begin to down; apparently, one of the parties had started to win in the street skirmish, and was now ready for the final, decisive battle for the drug lord’s fortress.

“Sergeant, continue monitoring the central quarter. We have other observers watching for people leaving the city!”

The Colonel personally directed the actions of those who were flying. Sarah continued to cut circles over the besieged fortress, while meantime on the airfield the engineers completely recharged Bumblebee with missiles and bombs - the attack squadron prepared for takeoff.