Omega Plague: Collapse (21 page)

“Still here, and still healthy!” responded Bruno.

Bruno heard the keys clinking and the click of a bolt.

“I’m opening the door,” said the voice. “Wait thirty
seconds, then come out and meet us.” Bruno heard footsteps, as whoever it was
retreated back down the hall.

Bruno paused, with his hand on the door handle. He
understood that since they had the key, they could have come in and killed him
any time in the last three days. Logic told Bruno that they were hardly likely
to kill him now. And yet he still hesitated.

“Well, are you fucking coming out or what?”

“Yes, yes, coming out now,” answered Bruno.

He pulled the handle down, opened the door, and stepped out
into the hallway.

Gentle sunlight from the lobby scattered down the hallway,
giving it a dull glow. Bruno saw several figures waiting for him at the end of
the hall and he walked, in no rush, in their direction.

As Bruno entered the bright open space of the lobby, he felt
many pairs of eyes staring at him. Bruno hadn’t seen this many people together
since before the Shakes. He felt cramped and crowded, feeling as claustrophobic
as he had during the press of people at a Napoli football match. But when he
counted, there were only six people in the lobby, and DeLuca was among them.

They stood in silence for a moment, then DeLuca spoke.

“Thanks for coming back, Bruno.” Emotion made DeLuca’s voice
quiver.

Bruno nodded. “You know I couldn’t leave you, old man.” He
sized up the others gathered in the lobby as he spoke.

“Your hands,” said Stefano.

Bruno held out his hands. “Steady as ever,” he said.

Each of them did the same. Bruno looked at each of them,
then nodded. All of them lowered their hands to their sides.

Paola and Stefano watched him, Stefano with a rifle in his
right hand. Bruno noticed his fingers clenching and unclenching as he held the
stock across his chest. Three others Bruno had never seen also stood in front
of him.

“I’m sure you’ve got a gun, yes?” said Paola. “So put it on
the ground, slowly, and kick it to me.”

Bruno complied. The pistol skidded to Paola’s feet.

“Thank you. You’ll get it back once we find the cache.”
Paola gestured around her. “This is Saverio, Mauro, and Aldo.”

Bruno nodded and looked them over. Saverio and Mauro
couldn’t have been more than eighteen or nineteen, their scruffy beards and
long-sleeve print t-shirts making them look like hash-smokers fresh from a
concert. Aldo, though, looked older, maybe in his late forties, brown hair
thinning. Bruno noticed the skin around Aldo’s neck hung loosely, like he had
once been paunchy. Aldo nodded, his watery blue eyes making him look like a sad
sack to Bruno.

Bruno spoke up. “So, how did all of you end up—”

“Cut the bullshit, cop!” interrupted Stefano. “Take us to
the weapons.”

Bruno threw his hands up. “Okay, okay, take it easy. I’m
ready when you are.”

Paola shot Stefano a look. “I’m going to go up to a
balcony,” he said. “To make sure no one is on the road before we leave.” Then
he stormed off.

The group made its way out of the lobby and started down the
stairs. All of them wore long-sleeve shirts of one sort or another, despite the
warming air. They hustled down the stairs, then waited near the door leading
out onto the street. They watched as Stefano peered down past the wall into the
street for a few moments before nodding and turning back inside the apartment.
They waited a moment in silence. Then Stefano came bounding down the stairs,
rifle in hand.

“All clear,” Stefano announced. Paola produced a key from
her pocket and unlocked the door in the flagstone wall to the street. She and
Bruno were the last ones out. She turned and locked the door. Bruno lingered
back with her, and they quickly caught up to the group as it began walking down
the street.

“No one around?” asked Bruno as they caught up.

“No, not for a long while.” Paola tossed her head back up
toward the balcony where Stefano had surveyed the street. “But still, we’re
very careful after that bunch from Naples came up.”

Bruno stiffened, and DeLuca’s eyes met his. Bruno noticed
Aldo, Paola, and Saverio look at him. This time Aldo spoke.

“What? What do you know?” Aldo asked.

“Wait,” Bruno said, not responding to the question. They had
arrived at the car where Bruno had stowed his gear. “I have some gear here.”

Stefano stepped forward. “I’ll get it.”

Bruno gestured to the back seat. Stefano stooped into the
vehicle and retrieved Bruno’s backpack. Stefano unzipped it and rummaged around
before handing it to Bruno. “I don’t want surprises; got it, Bruno?”

“No surprises from me.” Bruno slung the backpack over his
shoulder and continued walking.

Aldo persisted, his voice rising, “I said: what do you know
about Naples?”

Bruno answered with his own questions. “These people from
Naples . . . when were they here?”

Stefano gave his opinion right away.

“Bastards!” he spat. “They came here plundering, looting,
raping. They came when things got really bad. Just about the time when you cops
had deserted us for good, right?”

Bruno refused to give him the satisfaction of a reaction,
choosing instead to repeat the question. “So, like I said, when were they
here?”

Stefano, giving up his taunting, shrugged. “Maybe eight
months ago. Bunch of wankers, twenty or twenty-five of them, maybe more.”

Now Mauro spoke up. “A few of us fought. That’s how we found
Aldo.”

Aldo didn’t even glance up as they talked, but continued
trudging along, shoulders hunched. Bruno could see that as soon as Mauro
mentioned how they found Aldo, he had treaded onto sensitive territory.

Paola spoke sotto voce. “Saverio and Mauro caught two of
them by surprise. But not before they savaged Aldo’s daughter and nearly beat
him to death.”

Stefano chimed in. “Oh, but we got a few of them good,
didn’t we? Those bastards got what they deserved, didn’t they?”

Stefano turned towards Bruno, making a scissor’s cutting
motion right at crotch-level, and laughed. “Better be nice to us, cop!”

Paola said nothing.

Now even people who used to be “the good guys” were as
barbarous as the bad, discussing mutilation and torture as if talking about the
funny parts in a movie. Not much more than a year ago, these boys’ only worry
was whether their mothers would catch them sexting on their phones. Now they
laughed about mutilating men. Their savagery is what passed for justice now.
But Bruno wondered whether, just maybe, deep down, that’s how it had always
been. Maybe it just took a disease to strip off the pretense of calculating
justice and lay bare what really lurked in its heart: passionate revenge.

Mauro spoke up. “That bald guy.” Mauro shook his head. “I
wish we could have gotten him, too! What a piece of—”

Bruno grabbed Mauro by the arm and Mauro pulled away,
yanking a revolver from somewhere on his body.

“Don’t touch me! I’ll blow your fucking head off!”

Stefano swung his rifle towards Bruno’s chest. Everyone else
stopped dead. Bruno threw up his hands, letting Mauro’s arm go.

“Sorry, I just need to know—” Bruno said.

“You just what?” answered Stefano. “What do you need to
know?”

Bruno breathed deeply. “The bald one. What did he look
like?”

Aldo spoke up for the first time. “He had a tattoo on his
head. Double-headed eagle. I’ll never forget it.”

DeLuca took Bruno’s arm, whispering, “It’s all right.”

Paola stepped forward. “You know who he is.”

Bruno swallowed. “I think . . .” Bruno grew quiet. Then he
spoke with confidence. “He’s a Camorrista. And a particularly nasty one.
Nickname is Il Serbo. He wants to kill me. Or worse.”

“What’s he got against you?” asked Stefano.

“We were on a raid back when Omega was spreading. I shot his
brother.” Bruno thought for a second about continuing his lie, but then
realized it didn’t matter anymore. “It was an accident, but when the
investigators asked me, I told them the brother made a grab for my weapon.”
Bruno shrugged. “But he didn’t.”

Paola’s eyes narrowed. “You’re just as bad as they are.”

Bruno laughed. “Oh I see, you’re a saint, right?”

Paola just looked at him.

Bruno’s smile faded and he turned to the group. “You’ve all
been perfect fucking angels since it all went to shit, is that it?” No one
responded. His eyes narrowed as he moved toward Paola.

“That guy was a rapist and a murderer. I shot him by
accident. I fucked up, yes. But he deserved what he got, and I don’t feel bad
at all. Not one damn bit.”

“Weren’t you supposed to uphold the law, not break it?”
Paola said. “And that was before the Blood Sweats really hit. What are you like
now?”

Bruno didn’t answer, then Mauro spoke up.

“Oh, Paola doesn’t get how things are.” Mauro pointed his
finger at Bruno and pulled a pretend trigger. “We get it. You finished him. He
deserved it.”

Stefano joined in the joking, too. “Sure, don’t worry. If
you’re lucky, maybe some other cop shot your Camorrista friend, too!”

Ignoring their derision, Bruno walked in silence near Aldo,
while Mauro and Stefano lingered in the back, laughing, talking about nothing.
Bruno eavesdropped as Paola and DeLuca discussed life after it all went to
hell, how their group had gotten together, and the future.

“I was friends with Mauro’s mother,” Paola said to DeLuca.
“She worked in my restaurant.”

Bruno slowed, matching pace with Paola and DeLuca and
interrupted their discussion with a question of his own. “How did you survive?”

Paola looked at Bruno. “How did
you
? Like any of us.
Hunkering down. Scavenging. Doing things we never thought we could.”

“What about Stefano and Saverio?” DeLuca asked.

“Saverio was one of Aldo’s students at school. And Stefano?
Just a kid, some hooligan, really, loved the Sorrento calcio team. But a real
scrapper. He took down three guys. Mauro and I found him unconscious, bleeding,
a real mess, and those guys—well, let’s just say, they got more than they
bargained for.”

“So why help him then?” asked Bruno. “He could have been
dangerous. Why not let him die?”

“Same reason I helped you, maybe. I’ve got a soft spot for
someone who’s a scrapper. That kind of person reminds me of my son. He never
gave up, not even after . . .” Paola’s gaze wandered for a moment. Then she
turned back to Bruno. “My son was a local, municipal police office here in
Sorrento. He always said the Carabinieri got paid double to do half.”

Bruno smiled at her joke. But it was what she said next that
infuriated him.

“But you’re not like him—I know he would never have done
what
you
did.”

Bruno’s anger at this woman, who judged him and found him
lacking, swelled.

“You judge me? They came after me—they raped my sister!
Don’t you fucking
dare
judge me!”

She held his gaze as she spoke. “Guess you gave them exactly
what they deserved, too, didn’t you?”

Bruno felt a hand on his arm.

“Bruno, please” said DeLuca. “Enough.”

Coming to his senses in a rush, Bruno backed away. Their
situation was already precarious, and he didn’t want to make it any worse.

Eyes still boring into Bruno, they began moving again.
Drifting back, Bruno turned his observations as best he could to the group as
they made their way towards Sorrento’s main square. Stefano kept his rifle out
and walked a few steps behind. Bruno knew Stefano wouldn’t hesitate to kill him
if he had another outburst. Bruno did his best to watch the others. He noticed
the boys were on the lookout for anything unusual. He also noticed the
confidence in their step, their causal ease as they walked. He could see they
knew this area well, but he wondered if their overconfidence would someday be
their undoing. Aldo, though, plodded along, mostly indifferent and quiet. Bruno
studied Aldo as they walked. Aldo kept his gaze focused on the pavement just in
front of him. His hunched shoulders and meek shuffle spoke of a broken man.
Bruno wondered if he had any useful skills.

As they came into Sorrento’s main square, Saverio and Mauro
led the group. The two produced revolvers. Paola, Bruno, and DeLuca walked just
behind them. Aldo brought up the rear along with Stefano, who readied his
rifle. Bruno could almost feel Stefano hoping for a reason to put a bullet in
his back.

“Where is it?” asked Paola.

Bruno nodded towards the light-pink building with the
stopped clock and glass enclosed patio.

“There?” said Saverio, glancing back at Bruno. “Fucking
hell! A restaurant? Are you joking?”

Bruno shook his head. “No joke, it’s down the service
entrance. Leads to what should be the basement. Who would ever think to put
weapons there?”

Saverio shook his head as they crossed the square and
stopped in front of the metal doors. “Well, now I know why the pizza here was
always shit.”

By now the sun rode high in the sky, beating down on the
group. Bruno could smell sweat and anxiety clinging to them as they stood
there. He pulled open the door. A puff of cool air hit him in the face. Though
the sun shone brightly, it only illuminated the top of the ramp. Beyond that,
the darkness was complete.

Bruno opened his backpack and took out his flashlight. “Down
here.”

Stefano gestured with his rifle. “You first.”

Bruno nodded. “Fair enough.”

“I’ll stand watch up here,” Mauro volunteered.

“I’ll stay with you,” said DeLuca.

“No,” said Stefano. “He comes with us!”

Paola nodded. “I agree. Mauro stays. The rest of us are
going down with you, Bruno.”

Bruno shrugged. “Fine.” It didn’t matter if DeLuca came or
stayed. If looters had gotten here first, if all that was down there was dust,
Bruno knew that the cache would probably become their tomb. He looked down into
the gloom, and his flashlight illuminated the area. He could see no sign of
disturbance.