Catalyst (Book 1): Decay Chains (18 page)

“Morning, fearless leader.” His words were garbled because he was already chewing. “Ian’s right behind me. He ended up in the back of the bathroom line today.”

“No big deal.”             

“Yeah, Purdy said Killer’s bath comes first. Only hot water is acceptable for the pit bull.”

“I see.”

“Yeah, you know how he is.”

“Sounds like him.”

“Don’t know why you’d want to bathe that huge dog inside the house.”

“He’s too good to be bathed outdoors, didn’t you know?”

“Guess so.”

“Can I ask you a question? How’d you learn to hack?”

“What do you mean?”

“Did you learn in school?”

“Heck no. I learned from Ian and some other friends, and screwing around on my own.”

“Ian has just always been this good, huh?”

“Honestly, yeah. Once he went freelance he was unstoppable. God, he hated his old job.”

“So, that’s what you guys used to do for work, huh?

“Well, yeah, but not legit. You know what I mean? We don’t have like resumes or anything.”

“I probably don’t want to know.”

“You don’t.”

“But still, you do great work.”

“Thanks. And we really are good too, but we’re better when we’re not on a schedule, know what I mean?”

“I get it, but tread lightly.”

“Yeah, I mean it though.”

He set his bowl and cereal box down on her papers before sliding into the seat across from hers at the table. “Like Ian, he was recruited by the FBI and contacted by the CIA once, back when he wasn’t freelancing. He’s damn good at what he does, but he started his own thing and they left him alone. He makes more money, works when he wants, and doesn’t have to wear ties.”

Josh slurped up his cereal and poured another bowl when the first disappeared.

“Well, now we’ll get to see how you work under pressure.”

“Guess so. But it might not be as good.”

“So, you guys make money with the freelance stuff or make money appear?”

“I don’t want to talk about that.” Josh stirred his cereal into a pulp. “It’s best if you didn’t ask.”

Stormy had her answer. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to pry.”

“It’s okay.”

“Forget it before it gets weird.”

“Forgotten, if you change the subject fast.”

“Want to talk about work?”

“No, but I want to ask a question.”

“Okay, shoot.”

“You think you’re over Matt?”

Stormy’s eyes dropped to her work, but didn’t see a word on the page. Her mind raced in search of an answer that would work, but didn’t run into anything. Matt’s face burned through all her thoughts. Her heart broke and ricocheted around her body.

She wanted to say something that would take the edge off. Something that would assure Josh that she was capable of doing what she had to do. She had to make the words count, make them believable.

“Stormy, I didn’t—”

“Someday.” That wouldn’t be enough, but it had already fallen out of her mouth and into the air between them.

“Huh?”

“Someday, I will get over him. But not today . . . not today.”

She couldn’t make her words behave, but she would be damned if she wouldn’t stop the tears from reaching her eyes. Composure she didn’t possess, but self-control she had on reserve.

Josh’s hand shot across the table toward her. “Don’t get upset.”

“No, I’m fine. And I’m not stupid enough to confuse Matt now with the Matt I had before. I know the difference.”

“Good.”

His hand was warm overtop hers. Or maybe hers was freezing beneath his. She couldn’t be sure about anything but the contrast between them.

Ian was across the room before she had a chance to react. She didn’t pull her hand back. The touch wasn’t what concerned her. The conversation did. She could deal with Josh’s second hand version later. That would be easier to fix then Ian’s first hand interpretation. Everyone expected Josh to ruin whatever information he ingested. If Ian still had questions after talking to Josh, he would find her and straighten it out. She would have a better answer formulated by then. 

“You get everything up and running?” Ian asked.

“Bout to.” Josh’s hand left Stormy’s to put his breakfast away.

Ian grabbed a cup of coffee and a breakfast bar while darting around Josh. “Hey, schedule girl. You know what we need? A dog bath schedule, ‘cause this shit isn’t working for me.”             

She took in Ian’s still drenched state and tried not to laugh. “Working on it.”

“Freaking bathroom’s a wreck.”

Ian’s chair swiveled around to face his computer and then he was gone to the world, like usual. Josh was slower to make his way to his chair, but once it flipped around, Stormy was essentially alone with her thoughts. And all of them were about one person. A person that wasn’t a person anymore.

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

DAYS UNTIL THE SUPERVIRUS GOES GLOBAL: 09:16:11

The front door slammed hard.

Purdy blew threw the living room. “Nope. No way. I’ve been pinned down by Al Qaeda with only two and a half mags and I wasn’t as scared as when she’s behind the wheel.”

His footsteps tortured the stairs the whole way up to his room. Josh and Ian ambled out of the War Room toward the gravel drive.

Stormy’s lips trembled. She stared holes through the steering wheel.
What the hell am I going to do? Why can’t I figure this out?
She threw her arms over the steering wheel and let it cradle her face.
I guess I’ll just have to never be in a situation where I need to drive offensively. I can’t lose my friends. They’re all I have now. I need them. I can’t be the reason they die.

The back door swung open. She didn’t look up. Her door opened and Ian’s long fingers found her shoulder. He had a firm grip for a stick figure.

“Come on.” His voice was a mix of matter-of-fact and instructional. “Get up.”

Stormy got up and walked past Josh toward the house. She realized halfway there that they hadn’t followed her. She turned around in time to see both of them fastening their seat belts. Ian waved her back. She didn’t move.

He leaned out the window of the Celica. “Get in the car.”

Ian didn’t wait for her to strap in before he peeled out of the drive like a madman. The engine was still revving high when he hit the road and dropped into first gear. He seemed to pay very little attention to his driving, but somehow made complicated maneuvers look effortless.

“Where did you learn to do this?” she asked.

Ian floored it to the remote back road she had been practicing on since eight that morning. “They don’t let you onto the cyber crimes team until you pass the academy.”

“Did you go to academy too?” Stormy asked Josh.

“He went to the same college, but he just helped me practice and played WOW all night,” Ian said.

Josh rolled his eyes and then reclined in his seat.

“How can you hate cops so much if you—”

Josh sank farther into his seat. “Oh God, don’t ask.”

Ian eyeballed him through the rearview mirror.

“Let’s just say that cops care more about procedures than victims. I didn’t like it and resigned.” Ian’s eyes never left Josh. “That succinct enough for you, buddy?”

“Yes. Let’s leave it at that, please.”

Ian e-braked at the turn. Iron rod fencing lined a half-mile of the road. The dilapidated barrier belonged to a sprawling cemetery that threatened to go on forever. Its entrance was her start line. Ian drove past the entrance. Stormy nudged his arm and pointed back to the start line.

“What’s back there?” Ian asked.

“The start line,” she said.

“Whatever.” Ian stopped the car, but didn’t back up. His hands remained on the gear shifter and the steering wheel, but his eyes moved to Stormy’s face. He dropped into reverse. “Pay attention.”

Ian accelerated the car at an incredibly unsafe speed. After gunning it a few hundred yards, he twisted the steering all the way to the right and then e-braked. This sent the car into a spin. The backend fishtailed for a moment before conceding to follow the rest of the car. He dropped into first gear and slammed on the gas again. His hands rolled over the steering wheel, feigning precision even though the car’s movements suggested otherwise. Before Stormy could even pull a deep breath, the Celica screeched, turned all the way around, and flew forward. She couldn’t help but close her eyes. Ian let the car finish out the road in neutral. They nearly finished out the road before Stormy caught her breath. Ian turned the radio down low enough that Josh’s snickering filled the car.

“Stormy, how can you pay attention when you’re not even looking?” Ian asked.             

“Your driving scares me. I can’t help it.”

“This isn’t even remotely as scary as your day-to-day driving,” Josh said.

“Oh, shut up. I’ve heard enough about my driving from Purdy already.”

“I’m going to do the J-turn one more time,” Ian said. “Watch closely.”

Stormy made a mental note of what the correct term for spinning a car nearly out of control was. Ian went back at it right away. She couldn’t help the urge to pull her hands over her eyes.

Ian yanked the wheel all the way to the right. “Open your eyes, Stormy.”

She slid her hand down over her gaping mouth. Ian released the steering wheel to uncoil at will. The car screeched as it spun around. Her eyes pinched shut again.

“It’s the same thing if you go left,” Ian said.

“Got it.”

“You weren’t looking again, were you?”

Stormy opened one eye halfway and shook her head.

“It’s really not that bad,” Josh said. “Don’t be so afraid.”

“I’m trying not to be.”

Ian dropped into neutral and turned to face her. “What angers you?”              

“Come again?”

“If you won’t quit being scared on your own, we’ll just change your mood for you.”

She wasn’t convinced, but at this point anything was worth a try.

“Get angry, Stormy.”

“I can’t just automatically—”

“You’re a bitch and your boyfriend turned because you can’t hold onto your own gun. Pathetic.”

Someone sucked all the oxygen out of the car.

Ian got right in her face. “Are you angry yet?”

Her hands fumbled around the car looking for the unlock button. “Damn you.”

“Use your words, sweetie.”

“Oh, I have some words for you, you skinny fucker.”

“That’s good,” Ian said. “We’ll go with that.”

Josh exhaled loudly. “Stormy, he’s trying to get under your skin.”

“Obviously,” Ian said. “Now channel this energy into your driving.”

“How do you get out of this damn car?”

“Stormy.”

“Fucking what?”

“Are you still scared?”

“No. I want to rip your damn head off and shove it up—”

“Good. Switch seats with me.”

She quit fidgeting, but couldn’t stop gritting her teeth.

“Stormy, let him help,” Josh said. “Switch seats.”

“Let me out of the damn car.”

Ian pressed a button in the center console. She flung her door open and gave a wide, icy berth to Ian as they crossed paths in front of the car.

He was all business and she had nothing but raw nerves now.

“Forget the techniques for now. This is all in your head I think. Let’s just get you acclimated to driving straight in your constant state of distraction. We’ll do high speeds for starters and work our way up to this.”

“Stormy, are you listening?” Josh asked.

“I can’t.”

“Yes, you can.”

“I don’t want to.”

Ian got in her space again. “Stormy, this is the hard part. If you can overcome this right now, and focus, nothing can ever defeat you again.”

He slid back into his seat and snapped his seatbelt into place. “Now drive.”

She threw the car into drive and rammed her foot down on the accelerator. And just like that, someone let all the oxygen back into the car.

Hours passed and with Ian’s help, she learned to control the car instead of reacting to its frightening movements with panicked, lousy urges. She would never drive the way she had back at Reamer again. That driver was dead and gone.

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

DAYS UNTIL THE SUPERVIRUS GOES GLOBAL: 07:04:10

Stormy awoke to the sound of a safety snapping off. Her eyes opened, her head tilted toward the sound, but she took care to not move even a fingernail off the bed. Shadows of feet cut through the light that seeped under her bedroom door. Josh and Purdy whispered back and forth, right outside her room. She could barely make out Josh’s hurried explanation, but Purdy’s response was predictable.

“Where?” His whisper wasn’t groggy at all. Even in his slumber, he was on high alert. A moment later, the light returned and their footsteps plodded down the stairs.

The silence that ensued told her plenty. Her pillow landed in the wicker chair by the window, revealing her Glock to the moonlit bedroom. Through worn curtains, she studied the perimeter while she pulled her jeans on. What she saw made her want to race downstairs and hide in the closet at the same time. Almost the identical color as the night surrounding it, the Mercedes could’ve easily been missed. If not for the way the perimeter light glinted off it, it would’ve been.

Killer’s growl was low, but intimidating just the same. It started off strong and then abruptly cut off. Whoever owned that car was in for a surprise and Purdy apparently wanted to keep it that way. Stormy pictured Purdy, waving at Killer to knock it off. She saw Killer too, on Purdy’s heels, fighting for his share of the space, which Josh most likely filled.

She recognized the crashing noise. It was the kitchen table falling over. Shouts and pounding followed. Ian’s bedroom door creaked open and then slammed shut. She took the hall next. Gun in hand, Ian raced out of view just as she made it to the stairs.

Killer railed at the cracked door. He pawed it open and ran out when she was midway through the living room. Eyes on all sides, and once down the hall, she knew she was alone when she reached the front door.

Darkness enveloped the gravel drive. That didn’t help. Neither did the way Stan and the intruder flipped about. She couldn’t figure out whom to aim at. One minute Stan had the advantage and was bashing the intruder’s head into the ground. The next, Stan was in a headlock, desperately trying to flip the intruder off of him.

On the intruder’s second impact, she heard a distinct snapping noise. Her body locked up in response. Somebody broke something that time, but she wasn’t sure which body was giving out. The intruder leaped up and pinned Stan against the sedan. Stan didn’t see the gut punch coming. It looked like he had his hand in the guy’s pocket. She had one shot off and was about to fire again when a hand closed over her bicep.

Ian yanked her away from the door. “Stay out of the light.”

He hopped off the porch and fired from a stationary position parallel to the Mercedes. His shots had no effect on the vehicle whatsoever.

“Purdy’s got the other guy,” Ian said. “Go to town on this asshole.”

“Where’s Josh?” she asked.

“Closing the gate,” Ian said. “These fuckers aren’t getting away.”

In line with Purdy, Killer chased after a man Stormy could barely separate from the darkness. The porch elevated her, but not enough to improve a distance shot into a pitch-black field. Puffs of dirt rose from where shells hit, but they were tiny in comparison to the dust clouds stirred up by the bodies rolling in the gravel. Shouts coming from the drive pulled her attention in that direction at an opportune time. Stan had the guy pinned against the hood.

Ian got his shot off first, but Stormy’s wasn’t delayed by much. Both impacted in the guy’s chest, the only question was which one killed him.

Purdy chased the other man through the field and back to the Mercedes. Killer got in the way when Purdy took aim. He had no choice but to let the guy slip into his car. Then Purdy fired a couple rounds off. One nicked the hood, where the other impacted was anyone’s guess. The driver plowed across the yard jerking the vehicle back and forth until the dead man on the hood fell to the wayside.

Killer’s claws grated against the Mercedes until the driver rammed the gate full force. The gate erupted and scrap wood flew in all directions. Killer didn’t give up barking the Mercedes into submission until it was completely out of view. Under Purdy’s breathless commands, he padded back to the dead man in the yard.

Stan didn’t look hurt when he got up off the ground. He didn’t bother to dust himself off. As soon as he heard the sedan’s engine crank, he took off toward the Celica. His headlights bore into the back of the sedan as it whipped out of the drive. Stormy couldn’t breathe as she watched the chase drop out of view. Seconds later, the screeching tires fell out of earshot.

“Keep Killer away from the body,” Purdy said.

“Stormy, open the shed,” Ian said.

She rubbed her forehead as she sprinted around back.
All I want is for this body to disappear. Right friggin’ now.

They fired the van up while she fumbled with the shed’s lock. Headlights found her as she thrust the doors open. Purdy and Ian carried the dead body inside and set it on Stan’s workbench. Killer sniffed at the guy’s dangling arm until Purdy swatted his nose.

“I’ll make this go away in the morning,” Ian said. “I got to take care of this other thing, it’s more important.”

“Just come get me when you’re ready,” Purdy said. “I’ll help.”

Stormy shut the doors and checked the padlock twice. “Just make it vanish, please.”

Murder felt anticlimactic. Stale minutes passed, but the sensation she braced for never came. She wanted to feel the weight of some unseen burden. Her indifference angered her. It meant that all she had been through had rendered her cruel. Cruel enough to only see the hassle murder created and nothing more. It had been ten minutes and losing her virginity still held more significance. That just wasn’t right. People didn’t go to hell for having lousy sex. 

Ian led her back to the drive. “Trust me, that guy isn’t what you want to worry about.”

Josh combed the gravel. Stormy was afraid to ask why. Ian handed him a flashlight and together they worked their way from the road back.

“What’d they get?” Stormy called out.

Neither nerd looked up.              

Purdy hunkered down on the porch, his gun dangled from his fingers. He scratched in-between Killer’s ears. “Good boy.”

Killer was the only one having any fun. He wanted to be everywhere at once. At some point, Purdy was going to have to make this less of a game for Killer. He had it all wrong.

“What’d they get?” Stormy didn’t hide her annoyance this time.

“I think you got it wrong,” Purdy said.

“Huh?”

Josh’s hand closed over something tiny and lifted it to the light. “I got it.”

“Shit yeah.” Ian switched his flashlight off. “For a second there, I thought we were fucked.”

Josh beamed as he held out part of a red flash drive. “Look at this baby.”

Stormy peered up at Purdy. “They weren’t here to hurt us?”

“You think we would’ve let them get you girl?” Purdy said.

“They’re lousy thieves,” Ian said.

“And we’re damn good at jumping people.” Josh’s eyes were bright when they looked in Purdy’s direction, hopeful. When Purdy nodded back, Josh looked like he might burst. Purdy couldn’t let it last though. He broke the stare and refocused on the strokes he lay thick on Killer’s neck.

“Somebody needs to get you some bacon,” Purdy said to Killer. “You can have some too, Josh. You done good.”

Ian held the flash drive out to Stormy. “He was trying to wipe us out.”

“Can you retrieve anything off that?” she asked. “Or did you lose it all?”

“There might be something else on it,” Josh said.

“So you can fix it, even though you only have part of it?” she asked.

Ian’s hand dropped into the pocket of his hoodie and produced the other half. “I have all of it.”

The other piece looked more mangled than the first. Stormy was glad that wasn’t her project.

One lava hot soldering iron and twenty minutes later, the guys combed through the mounds of electronics in the War Room for a spare computer they dared to test the flash drive in. Fear lay thick as they shoved it into a USB port. Josh was still unconvinced as they searched the drive’s contents. It was the only time Purdy had ever agreed with him, but nobody listened to their warnings.

Stormy drank hot tea and reclined as she watched the guys go to work. Purdy hovered over Ian’s computer chair and Killer huddled underneath his feet. Every few minutes, Killer would shift or Purdy would forget he was there and they would collide. It was comical dance that never got old. About forty-five minutes later, Stormy gave up on them and went back to bed.

Her jeans hit the floor before she noticed him, feet from the fence, standing just off the dirt road. The window’s view didn’t change, no matter how many times she blinked. She wanted to cry out to him, alert the guys, do anything but gawk in devastated silence. Breathless, she watched Matt step into the middle of the road, in that familiar way he did. Hands in pockets, the picture of confidence. The biggest threat in her world stood fearless and free a hundred yards from her bedroom, flanked by darkness. Matt dared her to make a move and all she could think was that Aranchea wasn’t really safe. It was just a quiet, out of the way place to die horribly. 

Matt’s presence was the only thing that could’ve pulled the guys away from that flash drive. Stormy burst into the War Room and tried to make words out of the mush she spewed. She resorted to pointing and banging on the door like a lunatic.
Message received.
             

Purdy and Killer wouldn’t come back after that. They made two perimeter sweeps in a hurry and then paced the gravel drive. Killer growled at all the shadows, begging them to make a move.

Tired or not, she couldn’t close her eyes now. Everything ached from spending the night in a kitchen chair, but she couldn’t even flirt with sleep. Ian and Josh alternated patrols and posts at the upstairs window with Purdy. Ian flipped the flash drive over between his fingers. All he wanted right now was someone to admit that Matt was long gone so he could get back to his digital detective work.

It was seven in the morning before Purdy gave up. Stan drove up in time to walk in with him. Something about having Stan back in the house made Stormy breath easier. Lately, his absence had that effect. She was safe with Purdy home, but something else felt off whenever Stan wasn’t around. There was no reason for her world to feel incomplete when they weren’t all together, but it did. Incomplete was only what it felt like, it wasn’t exactly it. Regardless, it was the closest she could come to making sense of how she felt. And for some equally unknown reason, she never noticed it when the others were gone.

Stan didn’t look happy so she didn’t bother asking how he fared. Josh didn’t seem to get why Stan’s mouth was twisted and his words were clipped. There were many things Josh didn’t quite comprehend.

Stan slammed the refrigerator door shut and glared at Josh. “No, I didn’t get the guy.”

“Does he look like he brought company home?” Purdy kicked Josh’s leg under the table.

Purdy couldn’t let it go. Stan tried to use a mouse to chase down a car twice its size with horsepower to spare and failed miserably. It didn’t matter to Purdy that the Mercedes sideswiped the Celica, darted around a sixteen wheeler, jumped on an exit ramp, and then blazed off the highway. What mattered to him was that Stan had actually tried it in the first place. Purdy found that hysterical.

He reclined in his chair. “How’d the car drive?” Purdy already knew the answer, but needed to hear the words anyhow.

“Fine.”

“Didn’t look fine.”

“It’s body damage. The car drove great. Still does.”

“You tried to ram an armored Mercedes with that POS?”

“He rammed me.”

“That sounds more like it.”

“I can fix it.”

“I ain’t worried about that,” Purdy said. “Just wanted to make sure you understand that car’s . . . limitations.”

“I get it. You don’t like the car. Can we not talk about this right now?”

“What happened anyhow?” Josh asked.

“He got away.”

“How?”

“In a two-hundred thousand dollar Mercedes with bulletproof glass, armored plating, and a V12.” Purdy smirked at Stan, but this time Stan didn’t avert his eyes.

“You’re really enjoying this aren’t you?” Stan said.

“I got to get my kicks somehow.”

“Come on Purdy,” Stormy said.

“So after he rammed you, what—”

“Guys, I hate to be the one to tell you this, but this thing’s no good,” Ian said.

Stormy hadn’t even noticed that Ian was tinkering with the flash drive again.

“What do you mean, it ain’t no good?” Purdy asked.

“He means it’s broken.” Stan said.

“No, that’s not what I said.”

“Pray tell,” Stormy said.

“It’s got stuff on it, but not ours.”