Orpheus: Homecoming (The Orpheus Trilogy Book 2) (28 page)

"Hold on!" he screamed to Thompson, who still had no idea that anything was out of the ordinary.

They were both thrown in their seats when the other vehicle slammed into their left rear side.

He's pitting us.
He thought back to his Air Force law enforcement training. He knew how to stop a fleeing vehicle by hitting it just right in one of its quarter panels and putting it into a spin. He'd done it enough times on the course to know that they were through, and their Jeep was at the mercy of physics now.

He felt a second impact as they crashed through the guardrail, then he and his passenger had only a second to scream before the third and final impact into the river.

O

This was not how the driver of the second Jeep had intended for Cameron Holt to die. It should've been personal. Intimate. More theatrical. Certainly much cleaner than it was now shaping up to be. So much work had gone into it, so much creativity, that it was a shame he had to throw it all away and resort to brute force.

That radio transmission had changed everything. As soon as he'd heard it, he knew that he'd been made. It wasn't what she said, but how she said it. It would've been easy to believe that Holt's radio was malfunctioning ... because it was, he'd made sure of that ... and they just wanted to speak to him. Where she'd messed up was not getting her panic completely under control before transmitting. It was subtle, but it was unmistakable.

So he was out of options.

He'd intended to use a bullet to end Holt.

Now the bullet weighed close to three thousand pounds and was moving at seventy miles an hour.

When the vehicle hit, he knew that his target had no chance. The bridge had a wooden barrier on each side, but it was meant to keep drunk pedestrians from falling into the drink. It was never engineered to stop a giant, out of control hunk of metal from crashing through it. It gave up with little resistance, and Holt's Jeep went over.

The driver was bounced around violently as his Jeep careened off and went into its own spin. The airbag exploded into his face and chest, then the Jeep came to a rest in the middle of the bridge.

For a few seconds, everything was silent. The driver was woozy, but not seriously injured. He exited and walked over to the hole in the railing. The Jeep was already pointing straight down and sinking fast. With any luck, the impacts alone had killed Holt and his unfortunate passenger, but he wouldn't make the mistake of assuming. He'd wait around and clean up if anyone surfaced.

O

Orpheus had never completely lost consciousness, but the bitterly cold water snapped him completely awake when it reached his crotch. The first thing he was aware of was that his frame was being pulled downward and the seatbelt was cutting into his chest and thighs.

They were nose down in the river.

The second thing was an agonizing pain in his left knee. His hands dropped into the water to quickly assess the damage, frightened that he would find nothing where his lower leg should be. His leg was intact, but he'd bet anything that he blew out some ligaments during the impacts. He tasted blood in the corner of his mouth and checked his head. Again, everything was mostly intact, although he had several deep cuts that would require stitches, if he lived long enough.

In the passenger seat, Iver Thompson was limp against his own seatbelt. Orpheus pushed his shoulder and said, "Hey. Hey." Thompson didn't respond, and his body, briefly displaced by Orpheus' shove, returned to its original position. Orpheus hit him harder and yelled. This time he was met with a fluttering of eyelids.

Thompson turned his head towards Orpheus, an act which seemed to require great effort. He slurred, "What the fuck hit us?"

"Don't worry about that now, we gotta get out of here." Orpheus used his right arm to brace himself against the dashboard and readied his legs to swing out from under him as soon as his seatbelt was released. His body weight put so much strain against the latching system that friction held it in place. He took a deep breath and pushed backwards with his arm while pressing the release button again. This time, the belt flew free and he fell until his chest was stopped by the steering wheel.

The blow caused him to cough several times. His chest hurt, but no blood. "Graceful," he muttered. "Can you move?"

"Fingers and toes are good. Everything else feels like it blew up. Can't get my seatbelt off."

Orpheus twisted to face him. "Quit your bitching. You wanted a story." Orpheus looked at the water level. It was coming in too fast. The engine was dead, but the battery power was still running. That meant that they still had power windows, but possibly only for a short time. He twisted again and put his back against Thompson's deflated airbag. The river water enveloped his whole torso. "I have to do this fast. It's going to hurt. On the count of ...” Before he even got to one, he shoved Thompson backward and pressed him into his seat so he could release his seatbelt. Thompson screamed in pain, and Orpheus knew he wasn't being dramatic. He was busted up pretty good.

The latch was stubborn, and mangled. Orpheus unsheathed the tomahawk and used it to saw at the seatbelt. It was meant for chopping, but the blade was incredibly sharp and made short work of the belt. Thompson pitched forward and landed on Orpheus, who took a moment to slide the tomahawk back in to avoid an accidental impalement.

Orpheus found the window button and said, "Take a deep breath."

Thompson's first attempt failed and he coughed violently. There was no doubt that he had several broken ribs.

Orpheus said, "Slower this time. And no matter what, you have to hold it. When this water rushes in, it's going to want to rip that breath from your lungs."

Thompson nodded while he slowly drew air in. He winced non-stop, but seemed to get a good lung full. Orpheus didn't wait any longer and hit the button. Water rushed in sideways as soon as the window was open just a crack, and Orpheus had to follow his own advice to hold his breath. The window went down with agonizing slowness, but it finally disappeared into the door.

If history was any indicator, Orpheus would have just enough room to get out. Just.

The water had already reached the back seats, and Thompson was completely under. Orpheus slid out from under him and wriggled through the window. Thompson had the presence of mind to put his arms through the window. Orpheus grabbed them by the wrists, braced his feet against the door, and pulled the other man free. Orpheus kicked and swam as hard as he could for the surface. In reality, they were only under by a few feet, but it felt like a hundred. When their heads broke the surface, they each took a big gulp of air, Orpheus's much less painful than his companion's. Orpheus got them oriented and swam/tugged them to shore, where they collapsed.

Orpheus knew how vulnerable they were and struggled to his feet. His left knee threatened to give out under his weight, but held. He reached down for Thompson and asked, "Can you walk?"

Thompson was on his hands and knees, breathing shallowly. "Christ, everything hurts, but I think so." He allowed himself to be helped to his feet, then yelled, "Look out!"

Instinct compelled Orpheus to draw his weapon as he spun. He released Thompson, and the reporter collapsed to the ground again, on the edge of unconsciousness.

The warning had been just in time. Two zombies, both female, had found them. They were emaciated to the point of absurdity, but still lethal. They ran at their prey. It took Orpheus five rounds to get off two head shots, but the zombies dropped. More movement came from his right, and he spun to face that, too.

"Whoa! Hold your fire, Cap!" Hedley held his hands out in front of him as he descended the embankment. "Holy shit, are you guys okay? What's with the other vehicle up there?"

Orpheus didn't say anything and didn't lower his weapon. He stood unsteadily on what amounted to one good leg.

Hedley said, "Hey, I know you're shaken up, but it's me. I'm glad I found you."

Orpheus felt a tug on his pant leg. He wanted to look down at Thompson, but the young man was just using Orpheus's uniform to steady him while he got to his feet. No matter what happened, Orpheus would never, ever question the kid's heart again. Thompson stood as straight as he could and said two words. They were barely more than a whisper.

"The video."

Orpheus made the connection. "You doctored the video." Orpheus's tone was surprisingly casual given the weight of the accusation.

Hedley kept his hands in front of him, but a smile crawled across his face. "Took you long enough to figure it out."

"What the ...? You douchebag!" Thompson asked.

"Shut up. If you'd bothered to look at the video closely enough, you would've seen that I took the doctor zombie from one of those stupid cable movies you love so much. You were just so eager to see what he wanted to see. Double Pulitzer and all that shit."

"Why?" Orpheus asked. The only reason he hadn't fired yet was due to him not wanting to attract any more unwanted attention. He was afraid that the zombies may already be coming, and he didn't want to waste his ammo. Yet. He caught a brief flash of movement through the trees, but he couldn't be certain that it wasn't just a function of his injuries.

"Because you killed my stepfather. He texted me that he was getting on a chopper, but never made it home. I did the math, and it's something to take personally"

Orpheus thought about clarifying that Trager had been the one, but it didn't matter. "He fucking deserved way worse than that. Look around you. He did this."

Hedley's demeanor immediately changed. He dropped his hands, and by the time they made it to his sides they were fists. "That's a goddamn lie. He tried to stop it."

Orpheus actually laughed. "This was his show, you dummy. The outbreak. The coverup. Everything."

"Bullshit! He was working on a cure!" He unballed his hands and calmed himself. "And I came here to get it. I deserve that much."

Orpheus could have continued to argue, told him that they had a cure almost immediately and everything that had happened on the island was an effort to study and weaponize the virus, but the guy wasn't listening. He instead opted for a simple truth. "Then you've wasted your time. The cure died with him."

"No."

That one-word denial said everything to Orpheus. "We're getting out of here. You do what you want to do."

"Look at you two, you can barely stand. You'll never get up that embankment without help. And I'm not helping."

"Then we all die."

"All I have to do is wait. You have to actually commit murder, and then you're still fucked."

The movement that Orpheus had seen earlier caught his eye again. This time there was no mistaking it. There were three zombies picking their way through the brush. They'd break through in a few more seconds. Hedley didn't see it, as he was completely focused on taunting the man with the gun. Orpheus was gambling that the zombies would go for Hedley first.

He lost that bet.

The zombies came at the two injured men, undoubtedly attracted by their bleeding injuries. Orpheus had no choice but to forget about Hedley and turn his attention to them. He brought them down efficiently, but had left himself vulnerable. He heard another gunshot and felt a searing pain in his right shoulder and dropped his weapon. The impact knocked him off balance and he dropped to his uninjured knee, which was a small mercy. He made an effort to not land on his injured compatriot, but Thompson was no longer with him.

He watched the reporter put everything he had into one burst as he streaked for his cameraman. Hedley changed his aim from a kill shot for Orpheus to the new threat, but Thompson came in just low enough. Hedley's first round sailed over his head, and the next flew skyward as Thompson crashed into his waist.

Thompson had bought them a few seconds, but it wouldn't mean anything in a few more if Orpheus couldn't get up.

Move, you old fuck, move.

He pushed through the wounds and covered the thirty feet of dirt between him and the two tangled bodies as fast as he could. The gunshot wound was barely noticeable, but his knee was howling in protest. It gave out on him a few yards shy, but he managed to use his momentum to cover the rest in a stumble. Thompson received as much of the impact that Hedley did, but Orpheus didn't have time to concern himself with him at the moment. He couldn't let Hedley get to his feet. The last time he was in a fight for his life like this, he'd been in one piece and able to go toe-to-toe. But now, in his current state, that would mean the end.

Hedley threw an elbow that connected with Orpheus' chin. Orpheus saw stars, but he rolled with it and managed to flip Hedley onto his stomach. Orpheus fell on top of him and wrapped his good arm around the man's throat.

"There always a cure, you dumb shit! But your father was a fucking lunatic!" He applied more pressure and began to choke Hedley out. Whether or not he'd kill him was up in the air.

He's damaged,
Orpheus thought.
God knows what his old man may have done to him.

He relieved a little bit of the pressure and allowed Hedley to draw in a few sputtering breaths. Orpheus didn't relinquish the advantage, though. He wrestled Hedley backwards and to his knees, then to his feet.