Plague Town (39 page)

“I think it’s Alamo time,” Mack said.

I looked at Gabriel.

“How much ammo do we have left?”

“Not enough, but it will keep us busy for a little longer.”

We divvied up the clips as the rain of pounding fists battered holes in the windshield, each punch spraying us with jigsaw shards of safety glass. The cold, clutching fingers wormed their way in through the jagged holes, and then we opened fire, blasting away zombies and the remains of the windshield.

The thunder of the M-4s was deafening in the cramped cabin that would be our tomb in a few minutes.

No, not a tomb—that was wishful thinking. It would be the zombies’ lunchbox.

A pair of explosions rocked the cabin, and then another. The anguished moaning of the swarm changed its pitch to a sickening wail as before our eyes flames erupted from the wound in Mount Gillette, engulfing the swarm and turning them from hungry monsters into extra crispy treats.

“Are we in hell?” I asked.

“If so, it’s beautiful,” Mack answered.

Another roar, this time from the ramparts of the barrier. The defenders were back, cheering on Gentry as
he emerged from the breach, incinerating any hapless zombies caught between him and us. They crackled and blackened, eventually falling to the ground.

“I’ll be damned,” Gabriel muttered. “It wasn’t a breach in the wall, it was a goddamn death trap. They purposely created a gap in the barrier...”

Mack gave a whistle.

“And then they barbequed ’em.”

“All clear!”

The shout rang out from the front door of the Albertson’s grocery store. One survivor, a cashier, had been found in the manager’s office, having lived on three liters of bottled water and a pound jar of raw almonds.

It’d been two days since we destroyed the swarm, but already things felt as if they were slowly going back to some semblance of normality... if you could ignore the pervading odor of burning corpses.

Mobile crematoriums had been brought in, and were working overtime as crews gathered up the bodies of the fallen zombies and disposed of them. Outside military personnel were entering the quarantine zone for the first time since the outbreak began, and limited outside communications were allowed. I was told that I might even be able to contact my parents in the next day or so.

The wild cards and a select number of the remaining Alpha team went on wide sweeps, starting with the outer perimeter of the quarantine zone, to gather up any zombies that had somehow missed the swarm party at Big Red. There were surprisingly few of them, which made Simone speculate further as to the possibility of a hive mind.

Nathan’s response to that had been a derisive snort.

“They’re just following the dinner bell,” he said.

The wild cards were now placing wagers as to how soon they’d fall into bed, just to work out their mutual frustrations. Bets ranged between an hour and a month. Mine was a week.

After Albertson’s we hit the stone church. The doors were still sealed shut, about twenty or so zombies clawing to get inside. We disposed of them quickly, dragging the corpses out of the way to clear a path for forty plus survivors as they made their way out of the building that had been their sanctuary. All were emaciated and dehydrated, having long ago drained the font of holy water.

Lil stood at the side of the wooden doors as the survivors stumbled out into the daylight. She stared at each one optimistically, her expression growing more desperately hopeful and then bleaker as the steady stream of people emerging from the building slowed to an end.

“I’m sorry, Lil.” I gave her a one-armed hug as one of the soldiers gave another “all clear” shout.

“She’s probably in another building.” Lil’s voice was eerily calm. Her physical wounds were healing nicely, thanks to her wild card powers. But psychologically? That was another story.

“Oh, Lil...”

“I’ll find her.” She shook my arm off and walked away.

I sighed, my heart aching for her.

“What’s wrong?” Gabriel came up behind me, brushing a hand over my hair.

“Lil still hasn’t found her mother.” I rubbed my head against his hand like a cat. “She’d really banked on her being here at the church.”

Gabriel shook his head.

“She may never know what happened to her mother. She could have been completely devoured, or blown up in the swarm. Lil can’t inspect every body part littering
the area. It sucks, I know. But those are the cold, hard facts.”

I nodded.

“At least Mack is back. That’s helped. And at least she has Binkey and Doodle.”

Gabriel surprised me with a hug.

“Thanks to you. You’re out of your mind, Ash, but you’ve got one of the most generous souls I’ve ever met.”

I looked up into those gorgeous eyes of his and pushed back a lock of hair that had fallen over his forehead.

“You’re not so bad yourself, once you get over the whole self-righteous thing.”

“I really was an ass, wasn’t I?”

I nodded in agreement.

“You really were.”

I wondered if he would continue teaching at Big Red once things returned to normal, or if he and Simone would be off in search of another zombie outbreak. And if so, would the wild cards be called to go with them? But those were questions for another day. I didn’t want to harsh our mellow about now.

When we arrived back at Patterson Hall, it was the middle of a flurry of activity. People ran back and forth, soldiers shouting orders and loading things into trucks.

Gabriel and I looked at each other, then ran up the stairs and into room 217, where we saw Simone, Nathan, Colonel Paxton, and Dr. Albert, deep in conversation. Their expressions were grim. Dr. Albert looked ill, his skin a pasty white.

Simone looked up at us and Gabriel inhaled sharply. I saw why. Her eyes were sunk into the sockets, almost as if she’d caught Walker’s.

“Gabriel, Ashley...” She took a step toward us and swayed on her feet. Nathan reached out and caught her by one arm to steady her.

“Are you okay?” I hurried over to her, Gabriel right beside me. “Are you ill?”

“No.” Simone swallowed as if it hurt. “I wish that were the case. It’s... it’s much more serious than that.”

“This is my fault.” It was Dr. Albert, who stared straight ahead as if looking into the gates of hell. “I did this. It’s my fault.”

Colonel Paxton shook his head, but didn’t say anything.

“Did what?” Gabriel snapped. “What are you talking about?

“The Walker’s vaccine.” Dr. Albert looked at us. “It’s out. And it’s my fault.”

Simone shook with a shiver that looked as if it hurt, then gathered herself.

“It seems,” she said in a voice at least resembling her normal tone, “that the Walker’s vaccine Dr. Albert developed is the cause of the rapidly spreading pathogen within this region.”

“My fault...”

Simone shut her eyes, then opened them again.

“It seems that the vaccine wasn’t actually cleared for public distribution, either before or after it was sent to the labs in the U.K. Test results were falsified.”

We all looked at Dr Albert. I couldn’t believe it. I mean, this man had been my doctor for years. He had seen me in diapers.

Simone continued, each word sounding as if it hurt her throat.

“The vaccine reacts to a normally dormant variant of a retrovirus that’s present in about ten percent of the population.” Seeing the confusion on my face, she added, “It’s like the HIV retrovirus. It causes the host’s DNA to mutate Walker’s into the walking death.”

Slowly I began to understand, and it felt like I couldn’t breathe.

I looked at Dr. Albert and said the only word I could think of.

“Why?”

“I was sure it would work,” Dr. Albert said. “Walker’s was going to be bad, maybe as bad as the Spanish influenza. They told me I could be the one to stop it. I thought I was doing the right thing.” He shook his head as if clearing it, then looked at me with the eyes of someone about to slit his own wrists. “I thought I’d be famous.”

Colonel Paxton led him off into a corner, talking to him quietly.

Nathan joined us as Simone continued.

“This is why all of the military personnel outside of the infected zone remained disease free,” he said. “They hadn’t had flu shots.”

“So this is Dr. Albert’s fault?” I didn’t want to believe it.

Simone hesitated.

“He didn’t know this was going to happen.”

“Bullshit,” Nathan said. “Even if he didn’t know, sending out a vaccine without adequate testing is criminal on its own, especially without the express consent of the participants. Ignorance is no defense against something this monstrous.”

Talk about a lifetime’s worth of guilt
, I thought. “But we’ve contained it, right?”

Simone and Nathan’s expressions made my heart sink through the floor, a rapidly growing knot taking its place in my chest.

“It was a new vaccine,” she said. “Redwood Grove was one of the first communities to participate in a clinical trial to test its efficacy, based on the initial—and false—test results.”

“One of the
first
?”

Simone nodded, but Nathan answered this time.

“Clinical trials have been conducted in a number of other small communities worldwide—places that have been hard hit by Walker’s flu. All of them are relatively isolated, which in and of itself is suspicious.”

“You mean someone may have done this on purpose?” I asked, horrified.

“I don’t know.” Simone massaged her forehead. “If so... it wouldn’t be the first time. We won’t know until the dead start to walk. But I think we need to assume the worst.”

I shivered and wrapped my arms around myself.

“So it’s not over.”

Simone shook her head.

“No. I don’t think it is.”

Lucy slowly pushed herself up from her rocking chair, wincing as pain shot through her head and limbs as if transported on pieces of broken glass.

The kitchen, with its promise of cold water to soothe her throat and aspirin to help with the aches, was only a few yards away. But the distance felt impossible as she grasped at furniture along the way to keep herself from falling to the floor in an exhausted, nauseous heap.

She lived alone. All of her relatives had long since died or moved out of Belleville, which her nephew frequently referred to as “a perfect craphole.” Even if they hadn’t, Lucy would rather suffer the pain on her own than call any of them, or her neighbors.

Only two thousand people in Belleville, and Lucy hated every single one of them. The sentiment was probably returned, and Lucy gave a skinny rat’s ass.

Dr. Perkins, for instance. The incompetent quack who’d insisted on sticking her with a needle full of god-knows-what, just because she had a bit of a fever and chills. Lucy had felt better before the vaccination, proving her theory that Dr. Perkins was an idiot.

Lucy stopped and shut her eyes, resting her head against the wall as drums played inside her skull and a furnace rush of heat blasted through her body. Cold water... She imagined the soothing ice-cold water running down her throat, and made herself take a few more steps before having to stop again,
hands braced on a short bookcase as another wave of dizziness washed over her.

Damned quack.

Opening her eyes, she caught sight of herself in the antique mirror she’d inherited from her grandmother, one of the old-fashioned ones with tin mercury amalgam that flattered a woman instead of reflecting every flaw. What she saw in the mirror, however, horrified her. Eyes the color of bloody egg yolks, skin the color of a jaundiced lime.

Lucy gasped, the sound turning into a liquid cough that reverberated throughout her body. It hurt, oh lord, how it hurt... but even more horrifying was the black fluid brought up by the coughing.

I think I’m dying,
Lucy thought as she slowly collapsed to the floor.

She was right. But it didn’t last very long.

There are so many people who have given me so much encouragement, praise, and great lolcats pictures, that if I try to list them all, I will inadvertently leave someone out. So I’m giving a blanket thank you to all of my fellow authors, Sisters in Crime cohorts, and wonderful family members, friends, and coworkers who have enriched my life and cheered me up on a daily basis.

Thank you, Lori Perkins, for trusting me with your idea of Buffy with zombies, and for all your hard work getting me the contract with Titan Books! And thanks, Holly (and the rest of the RR crew) for all your support and understanding!

A huge thank you to all the authors who took the time to read and blurb the book; I know how precious spare time is when you’re on deadlines! Ray Garton, Jonathan Maberry, Stacey Graham, Roger Ma, Lois Gresh, Heather Graham, and Gina McQueen, you all rock!

Mom and Willy P. for their never-ending support and willingness to read whatever I write. And special thanks, Mom, for knowing when NOT to ask how the writing is going.

Thank you, Allie May Kiputh, my “Lil”, and Ernie Sloman, who totally inspired Tony. Love you both. And how could I forget Mike, our mailman and fellow George’s Zoo “gang” member? Told you you’d be
featured in my next book.

Thank you, Phillip McSorley, for giving up some of your precious downtime while deployed in Iraq, to fact check and advise on military protocol and language.

Hugs and appreciation to everyone at Vin Debut, all of whom listen to my whining when the writing’s been hard and always pour me a glass of wine to ease my pain. Thank you, Matt Burns, for the near daily pep talks and the wonderful and inspiring artwork! Huge thanks to Aldyth Beltane for the zombie music compilations, and to Aldyth, Brad, and Maureen for all the help with our felines.

Thanks to everyone at Titan Books—including Nick Landau, Vivian Cheung, Katy Wild, Cath Trechman, Martin Stiff, Tim Whale, and Lizzie Bennett—for taking a chance on Ashley. I love the cover!

Ocho, who supplied me with some awesome ideas (déjà vus!) for this book. His imagination never ceases to amaze me and I know the Ocho always has my back. Sun, moon AND stars.