War of the Undead (Day One): The Apocalypse Crusade (A Zombie Tale) (23 page)

“Why don’t you go call them while we take care of business here,” Deckard advised. His hard tone and his cold eyes left no room for misinterpretation: Milner would leave or Deck would throw him out. Having already been punched, Milner made a quick getaway.

“Her, too,” Thuy said, pointing at Anna. Thuy knew she may not have authority over the others but there was no way she was going to let that traitor bitch stay. Anna left without making a scene, which was wise, since the other scientists were glaring at her harshly. “Riggs?” Thuy asked. “Do you mind keeping an eye on her? I don’t want to even think about what sort of mischief she might get into if she were left alone.”

“Is there something going on with her?” Stephanie Glowitz asked. She could barely keep herself propped up on Chuck’s shoulder. It had been a long, disappointing day for her—first being late, then finding out that there wasn’t a cure after all, and, lastly, the hard work of helping to fill up the stairwells with anything she could carry. She was coughing again and the ache in her chest felt like she had swallowed a nine-volt battery that had gotten lodged behind her sternum.

"Anna did all this," one of the scientists declared.

"We should throw her down the stairs," another demanded.

“Everyone quiet down,” Thuy snapped. “We aren't going to throw anyone down the stairs. And if you wish to stay, you need to shut up. Now, so far, Mr. Burke you are the only one immune to the negative effects of the Com-cells and there has to be a reason why. I need to know everywhere you’ve been in the last two weeks, and everything you’ve eaten, everything you drank and everything you snorted or shot up or whatever.”

“Everthin’?”

“Start with yesterday,” Thuy said.

It lasted twenty-five minutes and not one of those minutes went by without someone asking a follow up question—
Did you have any sauce with that? What did you take your pills with? When did you go to bed?

Thuy charted everything from what motels he had stayed in, to what cars he had driven. Just then it felt like a waste of time, but there was no knowing what the information would mean when more facts were in. In the middle of Burke’s questioning there came the sound of more gunshots from lower in the building. It was Heines and Brown in the break room; the mumbly bangs went on for close to a minute.

Milner came running in. “They’re shooting downstairs!”

“No shit,” Chuck drawled.

John, who was happy not to have everyone staring at him for once said, “It’s prolly the police finally done showed up.”

“Maybe you should call the State troopers and see if they have any new information,” Thuy suggested to Milner. “And find out what’s going on with the CDC. Their agents should have been here ages ago.” When he left, Thuy ignored the whispering that had sprung up and went back to grilling Burke.

Eventually, no one could think of anything else to ask John. In the quiet that followed, Stephanie said to Thuy: “You never really answered me, what was with that lady? What did she do?”

Thuy gestured to Deckard who replied, “What we know is that she’s been slipping information concerning the Com-cells to one of R&K’s biggest competitors. We have email confirmation of this.”

“That’s what we know,” Thuy said. “What we’re very sure of but can’t prove just yet, is that she also sabotaged the trial somehow. What’s happening to those people isn’t anything found in nature. It couldn’t have just happened by itself.”

“And you’re just letting her go about free?” Stephanie asked. A small part of her was happy that she had dodged a bullet concerning the sabotaged trial, another part was furious that someone would do something like this. “She should be…someone should…I don’t know what, but I’m mad as hell. This was my only chance.” Tears sprang into her eyes and she put her hands out to Dr. Lee as if begging. “If you find out what went wrong, will there be another trial?”

“Maybe,” Thuy answered, not meeting her eyes. “But if there is, I won’t be heading it and it won’t be in time for you two.”

“Son of a bitch,” Chuck said. He had a very slow fuse, but when it was lit it stayed lit. “Someone should do something.”

Again Thuy and Deck traded looks and she again nodded to him to answer. “There’s nothing more we can do until the authorities get here and take over the situation. Everything will come out eventually, I’m sure.”

“Not in time for all those poor people in the stairs,” Stephanie said. “And not in time for us.”

“I’d do sumptin’ but I has my baby girl to think on,” Burke said. Thuy nearly choked. She hadn’t yet told Burke about his daughter being infected.

“Then I’ll do it,” Chuck said. “All that shooting means the cops are here and everyone knows she’ll hide herself behind the law just as soon as she can. If y'all want real answers out of her, now's the only time you'll get 'em.”

“What are you going to do?” Thuy asked as Chuck stood up. With his boots on he was the tallest man in the room and very intimidating when he squinted down at her.

“I think you know.”

She couldn't comprehend what was on the verge of happening. Was Chuck Singleton suggesting torture?“You’ll get in trouble,” Thuy whispered.

“It not America way,” Eng declared. “This not right.” He didn’t care about America and clearly right or wrong didn’t mean all that much to him—he cared about himself. Anna hadn’t sabotaged anything, and wouldn’t be able to answer the simplest question. If she endured the torture, some would think she was telling the truth and their suspicions would go elsewhere. In Eng’s eyes, it was better for the American police to investigate. They were notoriously slow and inept; every good Chinese citizen knew that.

“Thanks for the civics lesson,” Chuck drawled. “You’ll make a great American when you can speak the fuckin’ language.” He clapped Eng on the back and headed for the door.

“Deck?” Thuy asked, flicking her dark eyes at Chuck. She was still the boss as far as Deckard was concerned. He stood and cleared his throat.

Chuck paused at the door. “You ain’t the law, boy. Don’t pretend otherwise.”

“I’m not pretending. I know I’m not the law. It’s you who seems not to have a grasp on the fact. We don’t know what happened here and you jumping in half-cocked isn’t going to make anything better.”

The Okie was flinty-eyed and though he gave up fifty pounds of muscle to Deckard he wasn’t one to back down. “Just to let you know, I don’t do anythin’ halfcocked. If that woman’s been up to no good I’m gonna to find out.”

“You people may want to give us some space,” Deck said to the scientists between him and Chuck. Deckard didn’t really want to fight. There was no real honor in beating up a man on the verge of dying. Sadly, it looked like Chuck wasn’t going to give him any choice.

As the scientists scrambled for safer seats, Chuck cracked his knuckles. “Law or no law, there’s a thing called justice, boy. If she been stealin’ for some big corporation it don’t take much of a leap to think she been-a sabotagin’ for it, too.”

“That’s what evidence is for,” Deck said coming forward. “And let’s say you are right. If you hurt her, you have to know her lawyer will turn that against the prosecution. She might end up going free.”

“And I might end up savin’ some lives.”

They were eye to eye, neither giving an inch, when the phone rang. Dr. Wilson, who didn’t know which side to come down on, picked it up, hoping it was the police with some news.

“R&K Industries,” he said. “Dr. Wilson speaking.” Wilson had a deep, soothing voice that he had cultivated over the years. Cancer patients seemed to find it calming. It was a distinctive voice.

“Oh, hey, it’s the nigger. You still thinking you can be a doctor just like white folk? Don’t you know they keep you around to amuse them? You're like a chimp that rides a tricycle.”

“Von Braun?” If it wasn’t for the racist crap, Wilson wouldn’t have recognized the prisoner’s voice—he sounded like he was speaking around a throat full of razor blades.

“Yes. Good job, chimpy. You earned your banana, now let me talk to the gook. She’s got something I need.”

The name Von Braun had caused the room to go still and quiet. Wilson held the phone out to Dr. Lee. “He wants to talk to you.”

“I can’t believe he can talk,” Thuy said, excitedly, hoping that this meant the negative effects of the Com-cells were temporary. “Hello, Mr. Von Braun! It’s so good to hear your voice. Where are you?”

At first there was nothing on the other end of the line except heavy breathing then Von Braun hissed, “Cunt! Whore! Bitch!” Shocked, she held the phone out and stared at it as he went on, “You have the cure and I want it.”

“I’m afraid there is no cure yet. How are you doing this? Talking I mean. Are there others like you who can talk?”

“Stop your lying!” he screamed into the phone. “You have it. I know it. Now give it or I will kill all of you. Believe that, bitch. I want the goddamned cure and if you don't give it over in thirty minutes, I'll fucking kill all of you!” He slammed down the phone.

The good feeling drained out of her. She believed Von Braun. He would try to kill them and given the fact that he could talk it meant that he could also think, at least on some rudimentary level. It might be enough for him to get past the doors.

“Find Milner,” she snapped at Deck. “See if he knows when the police are coming.” As he hurried out of the room, she turned to the other scientists, the three patients and Wilson. “That was a man named Von Braun. He was a prisoner who was treated this morning along with all the rest. Somehow he can talk, which means he can still think. He says he going to kill us.”

“He’s probably taking barbiturates of some sort,” Dr. Wilson said. “Nurse Freeman was able to function better than her…I almost said colleagues. That’s funny. I should say, she was doing better than the others who were infected because she was popping mega-doses of valium.”

“Oh,” Thuy said, disappointed. “Well, that information should help us, I hope. But for now...” She faltered as Deck slipped back into the room. “What is it, Deck? Where are the police?”

“Milner’s been on hold with the CDC this entire time. He doesn’t know anything except that there should be CDC agents somewhere on the property, but they aren’t answering their cell phones. I'm starting to get the feeling no one knows what’s going on around here.”

The dispatcher, Courtney Shaw, had finally reached a stage where emotion seeped into her radio voice. “Say again Echo 2. What is your ETA?”

“Thirty five minutes.”

Courtney looked at her map and saw where Echo 2 was supposed to be—it was twenty minutes away with the siren hot. This meant Echo 2 had been
off route
, probably checking in with one of his mistresses. The man was notorious.

“You understand we have an officer down? One injured and one MIA?” Her anger rippled across hundreds of miles of airwaves and she didn’t care in the least. This was one call that had turned into a nightmare. She was simultaneously trying to talk to the CDC, half a dozen frightened hospital workers, and Sergeant Heines who had no clue where his partner had gone to, or where the rest of the CDC team was, or really what was happening at all.

She checked the board for the third time that minute. She had rerouted three cruisers to the Walton facility—it didn’t seem like enough, however she would need permission to send more. It was something she wasn’t looking forward to.

Courtney rang Lieutenant Pemberton. He made a tired noise when he heard her voice. “Is this about the ‘zombies’ again?” It had been a mistake mentioning the word, she knew that now.

“Yes, sir. The current situation is a bit convoluted. There are twenty three personnel trapped on the fourth floor and thirty one, including Sergeant Heines trapped in a room on the first floor.”

“And they’re trapped by zombies?” The disbelief in his voice was obvious and annoying.

“That’s the word some people are using," she answered.

He exhaled loudly into the phone. “I swear if this is some sort of prank, I will not be happy.”

“Yes, sir,” Courtney replied. “It’s not. The CDC in Atlanta is thinking that environmental exposure to some toxic is causing the odd behavior.”

She could hear him tapping his pen through the phone line. He asked, “And they’re on scene?”

“We don’t know. A team supposedly arrived about an hour ago. We confirmed one is dead, however the other two are MIA. The CDC is sending up another team, with an ETA of about midnight.”

“Taking their sweet time, aren’t they?” he growled as if it was her fault they were being so slow. “When do our own lab boys get there?”

She knew this was going to be sticky. “The Mid-Hudson team won’t arrive until around eight.” Before he could begin yelling, she added, “They were already on another run and their van broke down. I called Albany but they’re making excuses. They’re going to need someone with more authority than I have to send out a team.”

“Did you use the term zombie? Because if you did…”

“I didn’t, sir. I said we had a possible biological hazard with deaths involved. They’re moving as fast as they can.”

Pemberton was quiet for a moment before slamming his pen down in frustration. “Zombies…motherfucker! I don’t want to see that word in anything official. Man, I hate this. We have at least three KIAs, who knows how many MIAs, and it feels like we’re just sitting around. What about ambulance and emergency support?”