Extinction Agenda (11 page)

After tossing aside the tail he’d ripped from Kawosa’s body, the pursuit began in earnest.

Chapter Eight

Louisville, Kentucky

W
hen the sun went down on a war-torn country, nearly every city felt the same. After the Breaking Moon, dusk became a universal warning for all living things without claws to seek shelter before the monsters emerged from their holes. There was no shame in running anymore. No pride to be lost at jumping when an unexpected noise rang out. People still conducted their lives, trying not to think about the horrors that had engulfed their former lives. A trickle of humanity went out to eat or worked at jobs they could ill afford to quit. Some children went to school where drills were conducted to teach them where to run if Half Breeds charged toward the playground. The rest sat behind bolted doors, praying.

Rico had given up on anything as comforting as prayer. He sat inside the sloped building on the corner of Spring and Payne, hunched over the keyboard of one of many Vigilant computers, angling his head so the other nearby Skinners couldn’t easily hear him as he spoke into a hands-free phone receiver. Since the windows were all blacked out and barred, he watched the outside world through a small bank of monitors displaying feeds from cameras set up on posts, rooftops, and windowsills within three square blocks of his location. Every so often he would check the faces of the Skinners watching him, and then look back down to the work he was doing. “All right,” he whispered. “What do you want me to do?”

“Are you at the computer?” Cole asked through the headset.

“Yeah, but I ain’t no hacker. If anyone’s tryin’ to hide something about that prison in Colorado, I sure as hell won’t be able to find it.”

“Just type what I tell you and let me know what you find. Look for Hal Waylon. He was the guy who ran the place where I was locked up.”

Rico did as Cole instructed, but Hal Waylon’s name wasn’t easy to find. A little digging into e-mail histories, downloads, and user interface registrations was enough to pull up the name four times. Denver, Colorado, was mentioned, but mostly in connection to the two Full Bloods who’d leveled a supposedly abandoned packaging facility. It was the same bullshit that had been handed to the press, and mentioned nothing of Cole’s escape. The fragments he’d found where Hal Waylon was mentioned were too small to count for anything.

“We need more than that,” Rico grunted.

“Hal Waylon was a Skinner,” Cole insisted. “He mentioned the Vigilant by name and acted like someone who took his sensitivity training from a douche bag like Jonah Lancroft.”

“There are other Vigilant branches out there. I only got a few minutes before I’m noticed here, so make it snappy.”

The two closest to him were from the younger batch who’d been called in to help with Cecile. They were twitchy due to frayed nerves, pale after being out of the sunlight for the better part of a month, and never far away from a shotgun or assault rifle. A few more Skinners walked back and forth between other rooms. Most of the activity was centered on the basement now that there was a live Full Blood to cut and prod as they pleased. Rico didn’t even want to think about what sorts of experiments were being run on Cecile or what samples were being taken.

“Okay,” Cole sighed. “Let’s try a few other keywords. What about ‘tendrils, infected’ or ‘spore’?” He then told Rico how to run the search to look for instances where those words showed up in conjunction with his own name.

Leaning back in the squeaky old office chair he’d been given, Rico said, “Nada.”

“Hey,” one of the younger Skinners said. “You find anything yet?” She usually sat in the spot Rico was using, but wasn’t high enough on the totem pole to do much of anything when he waved her off.

He searched for
prison
and
cells
, only to find some notes related to building the holding area in the basement where Cecile was being held.

“Okay,” Cole said. “We need to search for something specifically related to that Colorado facility where I was locked up, but isn’t a high enough priority to be wiped out in an attempt for these guys to make themselves look innocent. Something not very important in the grand scheme of things but that’s still in the system. Maybe something mentioned in low-level messages or a document that wouldn’t have been wiped off the hard drive.”

“You got ten more seconds,” Rico said.

Cole only needed four. “Try ‘Lambert.’ ”

“That’s the other prisoner that broke out with you, ain’t it?”

“Yep.”

“Where’s he been?”

“Good question,” Cole replied. “Haven’t seen him since about a week after Atoka fell. He’s probably holed up someplace to stay out of the line of fire.”

“Join the damn club,” Rico grunted.

Some hits showed up right away. When Rico clicked on them, he got a few e-mails regarding a scrawny man claiming to be a psychic who was brought up on charges for assaulting two people at a bar in West Texas. A half-garbled link to a website brought his attention to a news story about a man arrested for robbing a woman outside a tattoo parlor and trying to escape into the Rocky Mountains.

Cole sifted through his memories of those days he’d spent behind bars. The next few searches were quick and easy.

Frank.

That one came up empty, which wasn’t a surprise. Cole doubted anyone running that prison gave a damn about what Frank’s name was.

Squamatosapien.

Squam.

Lizard man.

None of those words sparked much of anything either. Rico could feel his time at the computer dwindling. It wouldn’t be long before one of the others took it upon themselves to step closer and take a better look at what he was doing. When Cole gave him the next search item, the smile shone through in his voice.

“Try ‘Sweet Sarah Sunshine.’ ”

The computer chugged through its own memories before spitting up one note from a file that resided in a buffer where old documents sat after being placed in a bundle and then stored without being opened for an excessive amount of time. It was an e-mail marked,
Prioner description.
The simple misspelling in the title was probably the only thing that had saved it from being deleted with all of the other prisoner-related stuff.

“We have a winnah,” Rico declared. It read:

Subject in Holding Cell 4: Adult male, Hispanic, approx. 30-35 years old, 5’9’’ tall, 168 lbs. Tattoo on rib cage reads “Sweet Sarah Sunshine” adorned with lip marks and ladybugs. Low-level psychic ability at close range. Can read thoughts and short-term memories which make him particularly valuable in questioning and categorizing other prisoners. No known family. Recommend he be left in vicinity of cells and terminated when becomes too much trouble. Dissection of brain matter may be useful.

The victory Rico felt at finding something faded the moment he realized what it meant. “You were right,” he said under his breath.

“What is it?” Cole asked. “What did you find? Can you e-mail it to me?”

Once quick glance at the young woman who normally haunted that computer was enough to tell Rico that she would be sifting through that terminal the moment he got up. “No,” he said as he deleted everything he knew how to delete. “But it’s enough. Meet me outside. I got something you need to see.”

While going through the motions of shutting the computer down, he jabbed a beefy finger toward the young woman and barked, “Go check on the crow’s nest and secure the armory!”

She, along with half of the Skinners in the immediate area, jumped up and hurried upstairs to follow through on the orders. Once they were out of the way, Rico stomped over to the rune-encrusted panel in the floor and dropped to one knee so he could tap some of the runes on the square door that Jessup had opened earlier. When the trapdoor came open, Rico pressed his finger against the earpiece as if about to shove it into his brain. “It’s not here,” he said in a hushed voice.

Cole’s response was measured and calm. “I may know something about that.”

“You got a hold of that box?” Rico asked. An ugly smirk crawled across his face when he asked, “How the hell did you manage that one?”

“I don’t have it, but I know where it is.”

“I’m coming out there and you’re givin’ it back to me.”

“I can’t,” Cole said. “Paige and I need that thing.”

Rico shut the door, set the runes to remain locked no matter who touched them next, then nodded casually to the Skinner on guard duty carrying an AK-47. “You’re damn lucky that box is still in there. Were
you
the one that didn’t shut it right?”

“No!” The guard reflexively replied. “Wasn’t me!”

“Good. Don’t go warnin’ any of the other newbie twerps,” he snarled. “When I find out which it was that did that, I want it to be a surprise.”

The expression on the younger man’s face showed that he was relieved to be grateful he hadn’t touched the floor panel, and his quick turn on the balls of his feet showed how anxious he was to get the hell away from the big man.

Chapter Nine

C
ole sat in the car down the street, but still within sight of the Vigilant base. After being cut off so quickly by Rico, he perched on the edge of his seat waiting for him to storm out of the building. Paige had left a few moments ago, but the remains of the Chinese food she’d picked up for lunch was still scattered on the floor and backseat. Even after hell had spilled all over the world, General Tso Chicken still came in those little white boxes. On a very genuine level, that brought Cole some comfort.

Rico walked outside using a stride that seemed powerful enough to smash through any wall unfortunate enough to have been built in his path. After spotting the borrowed car, he motioned for Cole to follow him to the corner. He was headed for the Spring Street Bar and Grill, which had its windows boarded up like every other business in the area. Unlike the miniature fortress created by the Vigilant, the bar showed signs of life. Light filtered through the reinforced shutters, and voices made it outside past doors that were tightly closed in the event any four-legged visitors showed up. As Rico passed the bar, he nodded up toward the spots where Cole already knew the Vigilant cameras were posted.

A pair of figures huddled in the shadows across the street, where a house sat on a corner lot. Its yard was surrounded by a broken chain-link fence, and the grass had been torn up by so many claw marks that it looked as if it had been run over by a piece of farming equipment. A tall tree leaned toward the tiny house as if to offer the shelter that a pointed awning over the front door couldn’t provide. Judging by the broken windows and scratch marks along the walls, whoever owned that house needed a lot more than shade to protect them.

Slowing as he passed in front of a row of little, single-story houses, Rico stepped onto a lawn that was smaller than the house’s driveway to examine a satellite dish sporting a large ugly bite mark that had claimed almost a quarter of its radius. “You got that rock?”

“Not on me,” Cole replied as he closed in on him.

“Then where is it? I’m puttin’ my ass on the line here. Jessup ain’t a bad guy, but he’s not real big in the trust department.”

“So are you with him or us?” Cole asked. “After the hell we went through in New Mexico, the least that guy could do is stick with us.”

“He is,” Rico said. “Jessup’s sticking with all Skinners by ditching his own stomping ground and coming to work for the only core group that has been seriously organized. If you or Paige don’t like it, maybe you should have done some organizing yourselves before throwing in with the IRD.”

“We all jumped to the sides we thought would do the most damage to the Full Bloods. This fight’s just started, though, and we’re not far from losing it.”

Rico nodded. “You got that right. All we need to do is pull together when it counts. These Vigilant dudes may be drifting toward the whacko end of the spectrum, but they got heart and they got some heavy duty firepower from Jonah Lancroft’s personal collection. Somehow, they also got to the best stuff from Philadelphia. And since there ain’t hardly any other Skinners answering their phone anymore, the Vigilant are about all there is unless you wanna join the Army.”

“You can’t find any other Skinners?”

“We been in contact with the ones that survived the raids from the cops, but as of a few days ago, it’s been real quiet.” Rico drew a measured breath and stared at Cole intently when he asked, “Did you or Paige turn over a list of names to the military?”

At that moment Cole was certain of three things. If he’d betrayed any Skinners who were scooped up by the government, he was in for some serious bodily harm. If he tried to lie about doing such a thing, he would be found out and then subjected to even more serious harm. And finally, there was no doubt which side of the battle Rico was on. Philosophical differences aside, Rico was the same man he’d been the first time they met. “After all the shit we’ve been through, you can still ask me a question like that?”

Rico eased back just enough to let Cole know the storm had temporarily passed. “I’ve been level with you the whole time,” he rasped. “The problem with you and Paige is that you’re still thinkin’ in terms of us and them. The only ‘us’ here is humanity, and ‘them’ is them furry sons of bitches running wild through our cities. Now, I’m not sayin’ everyone under that roof back there shares my views on the matter, but that’s where I stand. When I was pissed with you guys in New Mexico, I told you so. Trust me, I’ve been telling Jessup the same things. All it boils down to is that these guys speak my language and Lancroft knew how to whip monster ass. Right now, though, I need to show you something and I need that rock to do it.”

The window of the house swung open to reveal an old man wrapped in a thick burgundy robe. His eyes may have been covered by thick lenses housed in cheap plastic frames, but he didn’t have any trouble finding a target for the pump-action shotgun in his hands. “Move it along, you two!”

“We ain’t messin’ up yer lawn, old man!” Rico barked.

The shotgun was raised to his shoulder and the home owner stared the Skinners down as if they were two Half Breeds pissing on his rosebushes. “I said move it along.”

Rico spun around and threw an angry wave at the old man. “We killed a pack of Half Breeds before they could climb through his windows and this is the thanks we get.”

“Times are hard,” Cole said.

“I got sick of hearin’ that shit a long time ago.”

“Yeah. Me too.”

“What about your Army buddies?” Rico asked. “Can’t they check around to see who’s left besides us and the Vigilant?”

“They barely know which end is up,” Cole said. “The IRD is doing their best to stomp out the fires, but they can’t wrap their brains around what’s starting them. Soon as we realized they don’t have much more than big guns in their pockets, Paige and I got away to find some answers on our own.”

“What about that little toy you brought in the basement? Pretty high-tech stuff. Or is that something you whipped up?”

“It’s some good tech. We might’ve been able to put something like it together, though. Still, it’s . . .” Cole felt his stomach clench. The tendrils hurt like hell, but that was nothing new. He’d reached an understanding with them. Somehow, he just knew they weren’t about to kill him. Even if they weren’t connected to a spore, they still had a purpose, and choking out their only food source didn’t serve it. No, this clench came from realizing he might just be even dumber than he’d thought. “Shit, I can’t believe this.”

“Believe what?”

“Paige and I ditched the car the IRD gave us, checked everything we were carrying, just about tore apart the clothes we were issued, and even picked through our boots to make sure we weren’t being tracked or bugged by those guys. They gave us that device to field test and we kept it because it could be useful, even as a bargaining chip.” Cole shook his head, suddenly feeling every bit of the weight that the last few months had dumped onto his shoulders. “I bet that device has got something else in it. Maybe that was the whole reason Adderson gave it to us.”

Clapping him on the shoulder, Rico said, “Could be. I was the one watching the screens when you carried that thing past the sci-fi setup in the front of that house. Our expensive computer shit picked up on a signal right away. Since it was you, I squelched it without raising the alarms.”

“Funny. I guess from being out there stabbing werewolves, getting bitten by vampires, and dodging gargoyles, the more modern ways of being hunted don’t register as much. Should’ve seen that one coming.”

“Maybe, maybe not. I would’ve thought to look for some electronic shit inside the little electronic box, but that’s me. I’ve spent a few more years hanging around with criminals or other sorts who think about wiretaps and that kind of crap.”

“Jessup put you in charge of watching the computers?” Cole asked. “You really have them snowed.”

“Nah. Just told ’em I learned a few things from hanging out with you.”

Those words, coupled with the approving nod from Rico, told him that the big guy actually thought of him as something other than cannon fodder.

“Don’t be so surprised,” Rico said. “Word spreads. That’s how it’s always been with us. With you and Paige stepping up the way you have, the rest of us are bound to know who you are.”

“You were there for a lot of it too.”

“And don’t think I don’t remind them of that whenever they try to pressure me into signing on all the way with these Vigilant creeps.”

“So you don’t trust them?” Cole asked.

Rico glanced down the street toward the Vigilant’s building and then turned away as if he was certain they were looking straight back at him. “Since you told me about that bug, I know I can trust you. Speaking of trust, where’s that rock?”

Cole looked across the street, couldn’t find the figures that had been stalking him previously, then shifted his eyes toward another lot. Soon, the figures stepped out from around another house and stayed there to make sure they were seen. Cole waved at them, which was enough for the two figures to part ways. One came straight at Cole and Rico, while the other doubled back down the street. As soon as the second figure stepped out of the shadows, Paige waved at Cole and continued down the street toward the car.

Rico kept his hand on the butt of his holstered Sig Sauer while watching the first figure approach him. “That’s one of the new guys. Waggoner. He one of yours?”

“One of Paige’s, is more like it. She met him in Atoka.”

Waggoner was a tall man sporting a full beard. He hobbled across the street wearing several layers of jackets, thermal undershirts, and flannel to fight a winter chill that struck Cole as mildly bracing at the worst. Judging by the weight of his clothes, Waggoner seemed to be more concerned, anyway, about having the maximum amount of pockets rather than being warm.

“He’s been with us for a few months,” Rico said as his eyes narrowed suspiciously. “He’s been a spy that whole time?”

“Nope. He just got a little freaked out by some of the stuff he heard in that big clubhouse of yours. When he called Paige a few weeks ago, I was just as surprised as you are.”

By now Waggoner had made it across the street. After throwing a quick nod at Rico, he hobbled over to stand out of the big man’s reach. “Hey, Cole. Good to see you. I would’ve said hello earlier, but . . . you know.”

“Yeah,” Rico said while eyeing the little box in the other man’s hands. “I know. You’ve been busy stealing from us.”

“You don’t even know me, mister. I’ve seen you around plenty of times, but you ain’t even seen fit to shake my hand.”

“You’re still wet behind the ears, boy,” the big man replied. “Just carved your own weapon, right?”

The man nodded meekly at first, but quickly straightened up and lifted his chin.

“I don’t care what anyone else said about him,” Cole said evenly, “I can tell you he’s a stand-up guy. Even after he got injured in Atoka, he still wanted to ride with Paige to face off against those Full Bloods.”

Rico grunted. “Bein’ stupid should never be mixed up with bein’ brave. I already heard about you saving a bunch of people stuck in a panic room during the Breaking Moon, so I guess you do have some redeeming qualities.” Looking down from Waggoner’s eyes, he said, “Tell me how you got that.”

Waggoner shifted his weight off his left side while pressing a hand against one leg. “Half Breed tore into me in Atoka. Nearly crippled me, but some friends patched me up before steering me toward this place.”

“Not that, numb nuts! The fucking box in your hands!”

Waggoner tightened his grip on the metal container. “I was coming down to see if anyone needed help when that Full Blood in the basement broke loose. As soon as I got to the bottom of the stairs, Jessup handed it to me and told me to put it away.”

“So instead you sneak out with it? Didn’t anyone stop you?”

“They were all too busy trying to get a look at the Full Blood or get to a weapon in case it tried to get upstairs.”

Before Rico could get close enough to grab hold of the other man, Cole stepped between them and said, “I told him to try and get ahold of the Jekhibar when we called to let him know we were headed out here. We need that thing.”

“And I agree with him,” Waggoner said. “I’m a grown man. I don’t take orders from much of anyone and I don’t need someone else to fight my battles.” Looking Rico dead in the eyes, he added, “I’ve heard plenty of things about you. Why the hell would you pick sides with these crazies?”

“Because there’s a fight that needs to be won. We can worry about settling up with each other after that’s finished.” Rico’s gaze didn’t lose any of its fire when he shifted it toward Cole. “Why didn’t you just come to me with this?”

“Why didn’t you answer any of the calls we made when we needed help clearing out St. Louis and Topeka?”

“I left you all the Snappers I had.”

“And they work great. We need more than bullets, though. That’s why—”

“Yeah, yeah,” Rico sighed. “That’s why you broke off from the IRD. You gonna give me that box or are you gonna make me take it from you?”

Waggoner didn’t look like he was cowed in the slightest by Rico, and he didn’t look to Cole for affirmation before handing over the metal box. Rico took it, opened it, and snatched the bent metal wedge from it. Tucking the box under an arm, he reached into one of the pockets of his heavy leather biker jacket. When Cole first met the big man, that jacket had patches of canvas to fill in the spaces that still needed to be covered with tanned Half Breed hide. Now the entire jacket was solid leather, stitched together from several pieces that fit like a puzzle wrapped around his entire upper body. From his pocket, Rico took a small plastic bottle of eye drops. Recognizing the color and oily texture of the fluid inside the bottle, Cole knew it did a lot more than moisturize and rejuvenate.

“Put these in,” Rico said. “Both of you.”

“What is it?” Waggoner asked.

Taking the bottle and sniffing the top, Cole tipped his head back so he could put a couple drops in each eye. “It lets you see scents,” he said. “You can also see certain kinds of energy patterns like whatever flows through the Skinner runes.” Handing the bottle over to Waggoner, he asked, “What does flow through those runes, Rico?”