A Plague on All Houses (8 page)

“I'm sorry, sir,” said Tech Number One, “but you need to come with us.”

The expression on Heald's face as reality overtook denial would have been comical if the situation weren't so serious. I almost found it in myself to pity him. Almost.

As the techs manhandled him towards the door at the back of the room, he locked eyes with me, upper lip curling back from his teeth like a mad dog. “This is your fault, you bitch.” If he could have killed me at that moment, he totally would have. “I'll be back, and I'll take care of you once and for all.”

Wow. Talk about projecting. All sympathy I might have had for Heald vanished. “Yeah, you'll be back, all right,” I said coldly as a third tech punched in a code to open the back door. “On one of these tables.”

Heald lunged for me, breaking the grip of Tech Number Two. Gabriel immediately swung me around so he was between the frothing General and me. I'm not sure how he managed it so quickly, but one arm wrapped around my waist while his free hand now held a gun, pointed at General Heald. “That's far enough, sir.”

The second tech regained his grip and General Heald was dragged from the room, screaming curses at me even after the door shut behind them.

“I want a nap,” I said to no one in particular.

Simone gave a little shake of her head, as if clearing her mind. “I need to check on General Heald. Will you be all right, Ashley?”

I nodded. “I just want to sleep for a while.”

“Gabriel, would you take her back to her room? And get Doctor Albert to examine her again. I want to make sure the fever doesn't spike up.”

I felt rather than saw Gabriel nod. I tried not to feel guilty about liking the feeling of his arm around me while my boyfriend stood in front of us, literally rotting in a cage, holes punched in his body.

Simone turned to leave, then stopped and turned back to me. “Ashley, you don't need to make any decisions right now, no matter what the General—”

“I don't need any more time,” I cut her off decisively.

“You should sleep on it—”

I shook my head. “I'm in. It's what I want.”

Simone put a hand on my shoulder. “You're sure?”

I nodded and took a deep shuddering breath. “Yeah. I'm sure. I mean, what else am I gonna do with a liberal arts major?”

It took a few minutes for Gabriel's coughing fit to subside before he could escort me back to my room.

I slept for almost twenty-four hours after Gabriel took me to my room. He had stayed while Dr. Albert gave me a quick exam, leaving only after I'd crawled under the blankets to sleep. There could have been a full-scale zombie invasion in the building itself and I think I would have slept right through it.

When I finally woke up, I felt totally rested. I'd had the kind of delicious deep sleep I hadn't had since summer vacation in high school, when my parents had let me sleep in as long as I wanted.

I stretched like a cat. All the physical aches and pains were gone. I checked out the wound on my arm, now just a faint scar.

Sweet.

I was also voraciously hungry, the kind of ravenous I used to get after several weeks of banana-and-water dieting. I wanted food and I wanted it now.

As if on cue, the door opened and I smelled something savory and mouth-watering. Simone came in, immaculately dressed in a black trumpet skirt and hunter green blouse and bearing a tray loaded down with food. I briefly wondered if she used lacquer to keep her hair in that perfect upsweep or if it just didn't dare fall out of place.

I sat up expectantly as Simone set the tray on my lap, sat in the chair next to the bed, and poured herself a cup of coffee from the carafe on my tray. “How did you sleep?”

“Better than I have in ages,” I said, trying not to drool at the veritable buffet of food and beverage set before me. “How did you know…?” I nodded at the tray.

Simone smiled. “If my own experience is anything to go by, you'll be ravenous about now. Eat up.”

I did. It was one of the best meals I'd ever had. I paused from devouring strips of bacon and asked, “Why does this all taste so good?”

“You'll find that all of your senses are elevated. Food will taste and smell better.”

I thought about that. “So does it work the opposite way too? Like, if someone farts, does that mean I'll be the first to smell it?”

Simone gave a shout of laughter. “I'd never thought of that, but unfortunately, yes. You're quite right. On the bright side, you'll also be alerted to the presence of the living dead because you'll smell them long before they're in range to attack.”

“Okay, then.” I attacked a chocolate croissant. Buttery goodness melded with rich, dark chocolate in an almost orgasmic experience. If food tasted this good, the downside would be totally worth it. I'd just avoid chili cook-offs in the future.

When I finished decimating the food, I settled back with a cup of coffee laced with cream and honey. “So what's next?”

“Ah,” said Simone. “Training. You and the rest of your team have a lot of work to accomplish in very little time if we're going to contain this outbreak.”

“Couldn't we just do a montage?” I wondered if I could blame the Wild Card effect for heightened smartass tendencies. Probably not.

“Unfortunately it's not that easy.” Simone sipped her coffee. “But I'm sure you're more than up to the task even without endless replays of
Eye of the Tiger
. When you're done eating, you can have a quick shower and I'll take you over to meet the team.”

“Is the … is the outbreak still contained in this area? I mean … it hasn't gotten to Ukiah yet, right?”

“Your parents are still safe,” Simone assured me without actually answering the question.

“And Matt? Is he…”

Simone nodded. “Gabriel told me to tell you he took care of it himself.”

I absorbed that for a few seconds, trying to sort how I felt about Gabriel putting Matt down like a rabid dog. Gratitude warred with a grief I couldn't even put into perspective, so I gave up trying to work it out and moved on.

“What about General Heald?”

Simone shook her head. “All signs indicated typical progression of the Walking Death virus before he was Medivaced out of the red zone a few hours ago.”

“In other words, not our problem, one way or the other.”

Simone smiled. “You have a way of cutting to the quick of things, Ashley. I have a feeling it will serve you well in the days to come.” Setting her cup on the side table, she stood up and brushed some invisible lint off her skirt. “Are you ready to meet the rest of your team?”

“Only if I can get dressed first.”

* * * *

A half hour later, clad in yoga pants, red baby-doll T-shirt, and expensive running shoes (and oh, did it feel good to be wearing something other than hospital chic), I followed Simone into a large gymnasium-style room under the main floor of D.B. Patterson Hall, where five other people, including Gabriel, were seated on folding chairs in a semi-circle.

There were three males and two females: a tall, dark-haired punk-looking kid in his late teens, piercings in uncomfortable places and legs far too long for the chair he sat in; a Will Smith-type-of-cute black guy I recognized from my creative writing course; a man in his fifties with a face like a sweet yet mournful basset hound; a girl barely out of her teens, if that, face mostly covered with a long swath of thick, shiny light brown hair; and a skinny blond woman in her thirties, reminiscent of a Hollywood trophy wife, right down to her sunbed tan and brittle demeanor.

They all stared at me when I walked in and I immediately wondered if I had, like, a hole in my shirt or food between my teeth or something.

I hate being late to a party.

“This is Ashley,” said Simone like a good hostess. “Ashley, you already know Gabriel. And this is Tony—” The punk kid gave me a bored nod. Simone continued to call out names, a teacher taking roll call.

“Kai—” The cute black guy waved with a smile that said, “Yeah, I know I'm good-looking and I know you know it, so let's just both agree I'm the hottest thing since the iPad and move on.”

“Mack.” The mournful-looking man smiled sadly.

“Lily.” Bright green eyes peeked at me from behind the curtain of hair and a shy hand gave a quick finger wiggle.

“And Kaitlyn.” The blonde looked at me suspiciously, as though expecting me to try to sleep with her husband or something.

“That's Kaitlyn with a ‘k,’“ she informed me as if I was a secretary taking a message.

Stifling a retort and stiffening my spine, I gave what felt like a totally pasted-on smile and joined my fellow Wild Cards. Gabriel shifted his chair to make room for me between him and Kaitlyn, earning me an immediate death-glare from the latter.

Jeez, whatever, lady,
I thought. Like this was really
not
the time to go all green-eyed, especially over someone she probably just met in the last ten minutes. Although, granted, Gabriel's looks made an immediate impression. Or maybe she just didn't like me.

“Is this all of us?” I tried not to sound disappointed, but five of us—not counting Simone and Gabriel—against the zombified world seemed like crappy odds.

“We're still waiting to see if two other possible Wild Cards pull through. We should know within the next twenty-four hours.” Simone took a seat across from us. “And five Wild Cards found in a such a relatively small radius is actually rather remarkable.”

“What's the actual percentage of Wild Cards versus the normal population?” asked Kai.

“Point zero zero one percent. Basically one out every ten thousand. It's those who actually survive the initial attack who are rare. Most are either devoured outright or are so badly injured, they can't make it through the fever and infection that follow. Proper medical care ups the odds considerably, but during a zombie outbreak such care can be in short supply. We were ready this time.”

We all looked at each other, fellow mutants gathered together.

“So,” continued Simone, “I thought it would be good for you to get to know one another before you start your training.”

Tony raised a hand. Not the kind of courtesy I'd expect from someone with that many pieces of metal stuck through various extremities. “Like what?”

“Whatever you'd like,” said Simone. “Where you're from, what you do, how you came here.”

Wow, this was like the world's weirdest encounter group.

“Oh, please.” Kaitlyn scowled at all of us. “Why waste time with any of this? Who cares what any of us did before we found out we're mutant freaks? What does it matter?”

Simone studied Kaitlyn with dispassionate curiosity. Kaitlyn squirmed uncomfortably in her chair as the silence became almost sentient.

Finally Simone spoke, her tone carefully neutral. “The people in this room are now more important to you than your family and loved ones because you'll be trusting them, quite literally, with your life. Now I don't know about you all, but I would prefer to know a bit about the people who will be watching my back on a daily basis.”

Kaitlyn flushed, her expression more angry than embarrassed. I got the feeling Ms. Rodeo Drive wasn't used to opposition of any sort. I wondered if her ability to be a high-maintenance bitch was enhanced by the Wild Card gene. Hopefully the ‘tude would come in handy when slaying zombies.

I took a quick peek at Gabriel. His expression was as neutral as Simone's voice. I wondered when he'd learn to hide his feelings ‘cause he sure hadn't bothered a few weeks earlier. He glanced in my direction, catching me looking at him. My gaze flickered away almost as quickly as his this time, heat rising in my cheeks.

“Ashley, why don't you go first?”

Well, crap. Okay, I know Simone didn't
mean
to put me on the spot, but I really hate this type of thing. I wasn't about to let her down, though, so I took a deep breath and dove right in.

“Um … well, I'm Ashley and”—I couldn't resist it—”and I'm a Wild Card.”

Blank stares from all the Wild Cards except Kai, who let out a little guffaw. “They say the first step is admitting it,” he said with a grin.

Damn, he was cute even if he
was
too aware of it.

Gabriel frowned. Guess he thought I wasn't being serious enough. “I, uh, go to school here at Big Red, including”—I nodded at Simone—”Professor Fraser's course on Pandemics in History. Guess this is a field trip, huh?” That got a laugh from everyone but Kaitlyn (guess that stick up her butt blocked a sense of humor) and Lily (although it was hard to tell what was going on behind all that hair). “Anyway, I'm here because my boyfriend and I were attacked in the woods behind Big Red. We ran for it. I was bit, but I survived.” I swallowed hard and stared straight ahead. “Matt didn't.”

Kai reached across and patted me sympathetically on my knee. “That's rough.”

Tears stung my eyes for a brief second. I forced them back and managed a quick smile.

“How about I go next?” he said. “I'm Kai King, also a student at Big Red. Double major, English and drama.” He grinned at me. “Guess I can soliloquy those deadheads to death.”

“How'd you get … how did you find out you were a Wild Card?” A soft voice emerged from the veil of Lily's hair. Good to know the girl could talk.

Kai winced and rubbed his forearm. “Roommate was down with Walker's and he … well, he'd changed into one of those things between the time I'd left that morning and the time I came back to our dorm after classes. Bit me on the arm before I knew what the hell was happening. About that time, this guy”—he gestured towards Gabriel—”came through our dorm with a bunch of dudes with guns, brought me here, and I … I guess I was one of the lucky ones.”

Kaitlyn made a rude noise. “You think this is lucky?”

“Did you see any of the people dying from this?” Kai held up his arm where the indents of human teeth were still visible. “It's a nasty way to go. So yeah, I'd say I'm damn lucky, just like the rest of you.”

Kaitlyn shook her head. “I watched my sister and niece ripped to pieces at a rest stop a few miles down the road when we were on our way home to Arcata.”

Okay, that surprised me. Arcata is the home of politically correct uber-liberals, not Hollywood Barbie wives. Guess I'd misjudged her.

“They had to use the bathroom. I didn't.” Kaitlyn wrapped both arms protectively around herself as she talked. “So I stayed by the car while they went inside Big Foot's Roadside Emporium. Total tourist trap, with redwood statues of bears and pigs carved with a chainsaw. They'd just reached the doors when a bunch of those things burst out of the building and around the sides of the porch. One of them bit me, but I got in the car. My friend and her daughter … they didn't stand a chance.” She shot Kai a hostile look. “I'd rather be dead than remember the sound of their screams.” She glared at all of us as if daring us to offer her any sympathy.

Stupid me, I tried anyway. “I'm sorry,” I said quietly.

“Oh, are you?” I'd never heard three words infused with quite so much venomous sarcasm. I would have been impressed if I hadn't been the target. “Funny, because you don't see capable of anything beyond shallow, juvenile humor. I wonder how your boyfriend would feel if he knew how seriously you're mourning his death.”

Oh no, you
di-nt
.

I stared at her, not quite believing I'd heard her correctly. The rest of the group looked equally stunned.

It took a few seconds for my brain to process the fact that, yes, she really did just say what I thought she said. It took my brains a few seconds
after
that to convince my hands not to strangle the bitch.

Taking a few deep, yoga-type breaths, I sat up very straight in my chair. Both Gabriel and Simone tensed, no doubt expecting the worst after the way I went after General Brasshole. If so, I disappointed them.

“I don't think you're in any position to judge me or decide how my boyfriend would feel about me.” I was proud at the levelness of my voice, considering the seething, boiling rage inside me.

Simone nodded. “Everyone deals with trauma differently. Some people use humor to help them cope.”

“It doesn't mean it's right or appropriate!” Kaitlyn's voice trembled with misplaced rage.

Simone started to reply, but I'd had enough.

“You're right.” I said. Everyone looked at me. “It's
not
always appropriate. For instance, Kaitlyn, you're obviously dealing with your own grief and fear by finding an easy focus for it, which just happens to me. I'm not sure why, but it doesn't really matter. Because I'm not your whipping girl and it's
not
okay for you to be a total bitch”—okay, another word actually sprung to mind instead of “bitch,” but there are some lines even a zombie plague can't make me cross—”because you're not the only one here who's lost someone.”