Dead Hunger III: The Chatsworth Chronicles (27 page)

He
wasn’t
one of the men who’d grabbed me.  He wore khakis and a white, long-sleeved, button down shirt with the Carville International logo embroider
ed above the left breast pocket, and there had been no time to change.

He didn’t look the part anyway.  Too soft.

“My friends need me,” I said.  “We’re working on some projects that could help all of us.”

“I’m fairly certain Mr. Carville knows what you’re working on, which should explain why you’re here.”

A man came into the room through a pair of double doors.  He was dressed in a dark suit with a maroon tie, and he walked toward me with his hand extended.

“Ah, Mr. Chatsworth!” he exclaimed, as he drew to within five feet.  “It’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance.  I’ve heard so much about you.”

I was standing before I realized I had even done it.  British etiquette, I suppose.  Automatic.  I managed not to shake his hand, though.

“By doing what you’ve done, you’ve put my friends at risk,” I said.  “It’s inexcusable.”

Carville
stared at me, an interesting expression on his face.  I’d seen it before; when a reporter had asked him a pointed question about one of his business ventures, and he had the answer, but just wasn’t ready to divulge it yet.

Either that, or he was simply sizing me up
.  His reddish hair
was neatly combed from a side part to the opposite side of his head, and his eyes were sharp and inquisitive.  He didn’t exactly smile, but his expression was not inhospitable.

“Then you’ve got some work to do, Mr. Chatsworth,” he said.  “When that work is done, you may go back to
Concord
if you wish.”

“What work?” I asked.

“I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but we have
,
what many are calling
,
a zombie problem.  And more recently a rat problem.  The latter of which surprised a good number of my staff.”

“Your staff?” I asked.  “Mr. Carville, how could you have a staff?  Over ninety percent of them had to have died, and I can’t imagine the others would continue to blindly serve you though all of this.”

Now he did smile.  “I know, I know.  It seems crazy, when the officials hired to keep the people safe cut out to fend for themselves.”

He paced over to the fireplace, and looked up at the portrait of him.  “I wonder if he’s dead.”

I was confused.  The portrait was of him.  “Excuse me?”

“The artist. 
Murray
Finlayson.  He was wonderful.  I said I wonder if he’s dead, or if he’s one of them.”

“I need to know what you want with me.”

“Are you hungry?” he asked. 

I was hungry, but I didn’t answer. 

“Look, Mr. Chatsworth.  If you know me from the news or
practically anywhere
else, then you know I’m a business man.  I’m fair, and I’ve made a lot of money without creating a ton of enemies.  That’s
because
I’m fair.  I give to charities, and I support my community.
”

He turned to look at me.  “Can you agree to that?”

I considered it.  People tended to like Carville.  He was a billionaire, but he was a very well known
New York
real estate tycoon, and his name was emblazoned on many of the skyscrapers in the city.  He endeared himself to the public and the press with humor, going against the grain in politics, and basically acting invincible.

Which seemed to actually make him
more
invincible.

I nodded.  “I’ll agree that you’re a fairly popular businessman.  But that has no bearing on what you’ve done today, because as you might imagine, you’re not very popular with me at the moment.”

“Understood,” he said.  He sat in the chair across from me.  “And understandable.  But I have a problem, and I need you to help me solve it.  Obviously we have more than one problem, but I’ve prioritized.”

“I need to let them know I’m okay,” I said.  “My wife is back there.”

“You got married?  Well, congratulations, Mr. Chatsworth.  I really feel as though I could call you Hemp, I feel like I’ve known you so long.”

“How on earth would you feel as if you know me?” I asked.  “We’ve never met.”

“Your broadcast from the steel supply warehouse in
Alabama
,” he replied.  “I must have listened to it a hundred times.  Hearing your voice was like seeing an old friend.”

My anger surged.  I stood up, my muscles tensed.  I pointed down at him and said, “Look here, you pompous fuck.  You’ve put my wife and my family at risk by taking me away from them.  I am the type of man who, if asked, would have most likely helped you, but this is unacceptable. If you want anything from me, then you’ll do as I say and let me contact them immediately.”

He waved at Gary who stood by the far door.  He pulled the door open and two armed men entered.

“I appreciate your passion, Mr. Chatsworth, but a threatening demeanor will not gain you favor among my people.”

“Your people?”

“Sit down, please.”

I stared down at him, then glanced again at the armed men.  They looked military, but it could just be the clothing.  Something about the way they held their firearms looked awfully like soldiers I’d seen on the news, and guarding the CDC during crises.

I dropped back into the chair.

“Better, Mr. Chatsworth.  Would you like to see one of the reasons I’ve brought you here?”

I let out my breath in a heavy sigh, and realized it sounded like defeat, even to me.  I didn’t like the feeling.  I’d not conceded any sort of defeat for many, many years, and I wouldn’t allow this man to change that.

“I get the distinct feeling it doesn’t matter what my answer is, so just show me.”

“Very well,” he said.  “All pretense and mystery goes away now, Mr. Chatsworth.  I’m as serious about the reason you’re here, as you are about returning to your friends and family.  Remember that.”

I didn’t know what to say.  He hadn’t told me why I was there yet.  Time would tell if there was a way out of this.  I stood again when he did.

Gary
opened the door and the armed men led the way.  I was surprised to see the entire home lit up as though power were not an issue.  Everything appeared to be functional, and there was even soft, classical music drifting from unseen speakers throughout the home.

We took an elevator down three floors. 
There were five buttons on the control panel. 
I’d come in on the roof apparently, and had no idea how many levels the home was.  We could be on the first floor or in a basement.

The doors slid open, and we stepped out.  The space was well-lit, but the lack of any windows told me we were indeed, in the basement of his mansion.
   The men led the way, and we reached a huge plexiglass wall.

Beyond it was a lab.  It must have been double the size of the main lab at the CDC, but there was good reason for it.  It contained every machine I’d ever seen, whether in a hospital or a lab.  There were no solid walls within; all were thick plexiglass or acrylic, and people in this room could be observed from anywhere, unless they were behind one of the machines, out of sight.

I looked at Carville.  “Did you put this together for me?”

“I did,” he answered.

“Why?”

“I could take no chances.  Every medical machine known to man is here,” he said.  “I made sure of it.”

“And are they functional?”

“What do you mean?” he asked.

“Mr. Carville, these machines require calibration, delicate relocation methods.  One errant bump into a wall can knock lenses out of position, rendering them useless.  One maladjustment could do the same for any one of these machines.”

“They have been moved with extreme care, and installed by technicians who know how to use them,” he said.  “But they don’t know what
you
know, so other than setting the equipment up, they’re useless to me.”

“And what the hell do you think I know, Carville?  What exactly do you want me to do with all of this?”

“I’ll give you the project, and you will
determine what to do with it.  Come.”

He walked on, and I looked behind me where the two men in fatigues followed us, carrying what appeared to be M4 Carbines.  The M4 was a powerful weapon that had essentially replaced the M16 used by most of the
US
military for many years.  It was a compact version, shorter and lighter than the M16, but still accommodated a grenade launcher, even with a barrel a full three inches shorter. 

Carville’s people seemed well-equipped.  Needless to say, I kept following the man in charge, eager to learn what I would have to do in order to be returned to my family.

****

We didn’t go far.  We turned right down the next hallway, and came to what appeared to be another plexiglass wall.  Thick. 

Carville turned on a light and I jumped back, involuntarily.

Zombies.  Two of them, behind the clear, thick wall.  One was a man, and the other was a woman or a girl.  I couldn’t tell.  They were both in clear cages with several air holes, and a slot that appeared to have been installed for feeding.  The inside of the glass was smudged with blood and smears of other things I couldn’t identify.

The moment the interior room lights went on, the lights in the hall where we stood went dark, but if Carville didn’t want his captives to be able to see observers, the point was moot.  The light from the room still shone through the glass and illuminated us, so the creatures within the boxes had a pretty clear view.

And they showed it, the vapor from their eyes puffing out, creating a coral-colored cloud around them, their mouths and teeth gnashing and chewing, their desperate, dead fingers clawing uselessly at the smooth surface of their cage walls.

“Why have you got these two caged here?” I asked.

“Because,” said Carville, “They’re not just any two.  If you’ve learned anything about me over the years, you know I have a twin brother.”

I looked at him.  “Then how . . . how did he catch it and not you?”

“Excellent question, and expected. 
Raymond
was bitten, Mr. Chatsworth. 
The very first day this began, he was bitten by my wife.”

“Where is she?  Is that her?”

Carville’s eyes flashed anger.  “That,” he said, his voice shaking, “Is my daughter,
Veronica.  I think you know Celina
wasn’t a child.  She was in her fifties.”

The name brought it back to me.  I had seen Celina Carville on the news many times, and she was older.  Carville himself was in his early sixties, so she was younger than him, but not much by celebrity standards.

“You said
w
asn’t
.  Is
your wife
dead?”

The moment I asked the question I wished I hadn’t.  Of course she was dead.  She was dead when she bit Carville’s brother.

Carville nodded anyway. 
“
Raymond
killed her when she bit him.  He reacted
out of fear, and I don’t blame him for what he did.  He told me she had gone insane, and she had bitten him several times on the face and neck.  I saw the wounds, and knew he was telling the truth.
  In fact they’re still there.
”

I looked through the glass at the male creature.  Indeed, his face and neck had several deep gouges that had never healed.  The girl, by comparison, looked as though she
had merely mutated into one of them
, as so many had at the onset.

We’d not seen anyone turn from being bitten.  Gem had been bitten and we were able to halt any infection by heavy submersion in urushiol oil at the bite location.  It was luck we’d done that, or we’d have lost  Gem.  I was still somewhat surprised it worked, and I’d still to work out in my mind exactly why it did.

“Mr. Carville, how long did it take for him to turn once he was bitten?”

“That is the curiosity I was hoping for when I got the idea to bring you here,” he said.  “It was roughly forty-eight hours. 
Two of my men were killed by him afterward.  He …. ate them, essentially.   A lot of them, anyway.”

“It’s what they do,” I said.  “But I can’t help you, sir.  If you’re looking for a cure, I can’t reverse this.”

“You’ll do it,” he said.  “You have to.”

“You can say it as often as you like,” I said.  “But I can tell you there’s no way to reverse this condition.”

“You’ll find a way, Mr. Chatsworth.  That’s my daughter and my brother in there.  I’m keeping them well fed.  I’m preventing them from harming anyone else or anything else from harming them.  I’m preserving them so you can cure them.”

I looked at him, incredulous.  “Sir, do you really believe that if I couldn’t cure Flex’s very
sister
, that I can do anything for these two?  We shot her in the h
e
ad, for Christ’s sake.  We put her out of her misery, which is what you should do for
your brother and daughter
.”