Catalyst (Book 1): Decay Chains (19 page)

“Whose?” Stormy asked.

“Phoenix,” Ian said. “I’ve got all of their stuff right here, I think.”

“We’re being hunted,” Purdy said.

“No, we’re being warned,” Stormy said.

“I’ve got a bad feeling about the server, Josh,” Ian said.

“Uh oh,” Josh said.

“Fuck!” Ian picked up the laptop and bashed it against the kitchen table. It snapped in two and those pieces became projectiles. He pushed past Josh and stormed outside. Killer whimpered at him through the screen door.

Josh didn’t attempt to follow him. “This is our fault. Ian and I hacked into Cold World’s server this morning.”

“Huh?” Purdy said.

“We almost wiped them out. We were so freaking close.”

“That explains a lot,” Stan said. “You must’ve left a trail back to us.”

“It looks that way, but I don’t see how. Ian wouldn’t be this pissed unless it was his fault though. I wish I could see what he was looking at before he blew up.”

“It’s okay, Josh,” Stormy said.

“We should’ve said something, but we wanted to wait until we destroyed those assholes.”

“It’s still okay.”

“Warn us next time,” Stan said. “You could have gotten us killed.”

“Got it,” Josh said.

“So what exactly did you do?” Purdy asked.

“Long story, but we were going to try again in the morning. First, Ian was going to see if he could move some of their money, and then—” 

Ian returned even angrier than before. The room grew quiet as he collected the laptop’s components and set them on the table. Josh switched gears and started arranging the parts for Ian while he fired up the soldering iron. The rest of the explanation would have to wait.

Exhaustion found Stormy first. An hour in bed sounded refreshing. She staggered to her bedroom around nine in the morning. She didn’t want to scream when she saw him, but she couldn’t stop the noise from erupting out of her chest.

Josh flicked on the light and he shouldn’t have. Now she could see him vividly. The dead guy, her first murder, lay across her bed with his hands politely folded over his chest.

That sight was what made her scream, but not what truly upset her.

The blood-soaked note is what made her turn to stone in the middle of her bedroom. The words, in Matt’s unmistakable scrawl, the one with the medieval looking loops, are what made her hyperventilate. Ian dragged her from the room, but she didn’t want to go. She wanted to stand in that spot until she disintegrated.
The paper is from my legal pad. How the hell did he get it?
The yellow paper, that she never saw him take, is why she rocked in the corner the rest of the day.

The paper that read,
Good shot, sweetness. Did you learn that from watching me?

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

DAYS UNTIL THE SUPERVIRUS GOES GLOBAL: 06:23:13

As long as she pretended the upstairs portion of the house didn’t exist, Stormy was fine. Ian and Stan begged her to switch rooms. Purdy offered up the master bedroom and Josh insisted that she take the couch. All offers were refused. She preferred sleeping on the living room floor. It was the furthest place from her blood-soaked bed. Other than her aversion for the second floor, it was business as usual.
After you’ve seen the dead reanimate, what’s one more corpse really?

She aligned the sticky notes on the edge of her legal pad. It was less imposing than tapping her fingernails on the kitchen table, which was what she really wanted to do. Or maybe drum them against the top of Purdy’s head while she re-emphasized the importance of not being late. Purdy couldn’t be on time to save his life. Of all the people in the group, one of the veterans having a knack for being chronically late boggled her.

Ian was irritable because he couldn’t get back into Cold World’s server. He conjured up method after method, but all of his re-attacks failed. Josh couldn’t nail down why Matt was in their front yard either. The trail had grown cold, but he wouldn’t let it go. The pair fought to read fine print through whiteout and it made them temperamental.

Stan reached out to Phoenix to see if they wanted their files back. All Troy wanted to know was if the operatives were dead. He wasn’t happy when he realized he couldn’t do the honors.

Stan pulled everything out of their backpacks and rearranged ropes and metal pieces that looked like gigantic earrings.

“Are we zip lining today?” Stormy asked.

“No. I found another way to get out of the building in case they kill the elevator again. Unless you want to take the stairs?”

Stormy was mid-eye roll when Purdy turned up. The three loaded up the car, and for the first time in weeks, the familiar dirt roads faded from her view. Her eyes had been glued to files spread out along a kitchen table for far too long. All the cornfields had been cut down. It made the world seem flatter than before. The landscape was richer and the colors deeper now that she was out in the open again.

The state park felt somewhere between lonely and peaceful. She had driven by mountains sprayed with rail thin trees and undergrowth before, but she had never done more than take a picture. The leaves crunched under her feet. The trees dwarfed her. This was one more reason to stop what was coming. Peaceful, lonely places like this.

The hike from the park entrance grew steep and giant rocks sprung out in their path. High-top boots or not, she stared at the ground ahead of her terrified of spraining an ankle when her ankles mattered most.

At first, the morning had been really cool, but not even fifteen minutes into the trek she started shedding clothes. First her hoodie ended up tied around her waist. A minute later, her hair was up in a ponytail and her sleeves were cinched at her elbows. She cared less and less about the scenery. Now she just wanted to get there. But they were a ways off. She had seen their destination on the drive in, a cliff as flat as notebook paper. Not a huge summit by any means, but if it had been turned over, she could’ve walked across it like a plank. They arrived a half-hour later and the realization hit that she really had to rappel down it.

Purdy was a pro. He looked like a leapfrog hopping down the cliffside. His legs made a perfect upside-down V the whole way, even when he ducked around branches.

Stan looked like he was just walking normally, not perpendicular to a cliff. His hops grew bigger the farther down he went, but he must’ve spent a solid three minutes just hanging off the ledge talking to Stormy before going. Another natural.

Stormy couldn’t hop and couldn’t get the rope/hop combo down to save her life. Every time she tried to hop, she slammed back into the rocks because she would forget to let out the rope. The instructions weren’t complicated. It was the application she struggled with.

It took all day for her to become proficient enough for the guys to believe that she wouldn’t kill herself attempting the feat unsupervised. By late afternoon, the weather had turned on them. Eager to get out of the elements and eat something, the group hustled back to the car.

Purdy quit walking. Stormy was just ahead of him when his muscle bound arm reached up, wrapped around her waist, and yanked her back to his side. Stan stopped dead in his tracks. Quizzical looks were directed at Purdy, who stared at the Celica fifteen feet ahead.

Stormy wrestled against Purdy’s arm until he glared at her, and then she quit. Stan’s mouth hung open. Questions filled his eyes.

“Ssshh,” Purdy said, although no one had said a word.

His pause was long and difficult to suffer through. Purdy didn’t move at all, but his eyes scanned the parking lot over and again, always refocusing on the Celica. When he backed up abruptly, they fell in behind him. It wasn’t a full-blown run, but more of a precise retreat. Stormy worked hard to avoid the litter of acorns, pine needles, and even the tiny slate colored rocks along the way, unsure which ones were offenders and what was creating the risk only Purdy sensed.

Purdy bristled. “Something ain’t right.”

They backed up to the Welcome Center. Splinters from the side of the building’s wooden exterior caught in her sweater. Hypersensitive to everything, the pulls on the fabric felt like a dozen threats at her back.

Purdy drew his handgun and racked the slide. “You feel it too?”

She nodded, but she didn’t sense a thing.

“Stan, gimme the keys,” Purdy said.

Stan unzipped his backpack and pulled his hand back to toss the keys.             

“No man. Hand them to me!”

It was too late. The keys were in midair. Purdy cupped his hands and jumped into position to catch them. He slipped on an acorn and fell to the ground in front of Stan, who looked like he wanted to evaporate into thin air. Purdy caught and held the keys out above him like they were radioactive. He pulled Stormy behind him and walked to the back of the overhang, the farthest he could possibly be from the car without being inside the log cabin or back up the mountain.

“Dipshit.” Purdy turned back to face the car. “No fucking sense, whatsoever.”

That was pretty light considering the things he calls Josh.

“If this thing goes, duck the fuck down,” Purdy said.

He clicked the unlock button on the key chain. The reaction wasn’t instantaneous. Ten seconds later, the car blew apart. The fireball was the brightest orange imaginable before it fanned out into a red so pure, it looked like computer animation. Purdy threw Stormy down and covered her with his body. This caused her to miss the rest of the show. Metal clinked against the ground and the distinctive odors of an electrical fire and gasoline wafted through the mountain air. That’s when it registered that the car was rigged to blow up with her in it. Now the fireball had a different meaning. When her mind ran back through the image, she was inside the car being blown apart in the glowing spectacle.             

The Welcome Center was closed, but it wasn’t long before the lock clinked and the door swung open. A man exited, took one look at the huddle on the ground, and then walked into the center of the entrance to see for himself.

His shadow ran long behind him, almost as long as the building itself. Giant tufts of ash flirted with the leaves, until the breeze swept the ash up the entranceway to brush against the huddled group and disintegrate.

They watched the car burn. A woman with a phone stuck to her ear poked her head out of the door. “Charles, they’re on their way. Do we need an ambulance?” She locked in on Stormy. “You aren’t hurt are you, dear?”

“No, Ma’am.” Stormy knew her answer came out too quick.

Purdy tucked his gun into the back of his jeans. He pulled Stormy to her feet and then gave Stan the look. In response, Stan dropped his backpack to the ground and rifled through it. Back up a minute later, he stood uneasy with a cell phone against his ear.

“Kids, is that your car there?” Charles asked.

Stan shook his head and shrugged his shoulders. A minute later, he was behind the building talking on his cell phone.

“That ain’t our car,” Purdy said.

“Where’s your car then?”

“We took the bus.”

“You know whose car it is?” the woman asked. “Was anyone in it?”

“No Ma’am, I don’t,” Stormy said.

“You all should git inside in case something else blows,” Charles said. “The police are on their way. They’ll want to talk to you witnesses and see if you’re hurt.”

All the hairs on the back of Stormy’s neck stood on end when she heard the sirens. She dragged Purdy around the building and steered him toward a trail. They ignored Charles’ demands that they return and talk to the cops. Purdy signaled Stan and the three climbed up a hill littered with bristles. The wind came at them in full force and a freezing rain pelted them the entire way.

When the hill evened out, they were in an area that seemed to be one dense bush fanned out forever on either end. Thin layers of underbrush met Stormy’s waist and snapped as she hopped over them, creating a path and a steady stream of noise as she moved. She ran to keep up as they raced to get as far back as possible.
Don’t send the dogs in after us.

Stan held the phone with one hand and unfolded a map with the other. “Ian, I’m going to lose my signal. I’m not sure if we can get across the street or not, but you gotta get us out of here.”

Purdy held his weapon out before him. “Tell him we can wait until tomorrow. The cops aren’t leaving any time soon.”

“He says if we get to the other side of the road, we’re only a mile from the highway. He can get to us easier.”

“So can the cops,” Stormy said. “And whoever set the car to blow.”

Purdy was out of breath, but kept talking. “We’re easy targets here too.”

She followed damn near on Purdy’s heels, till he kicked into full speed.

“I’m going to have to let you go, Ian. I’m losing you,” Stan said. “We’ll call from the other side.” He ran to catch up, with the crumpled and rain-soaked map in hand.

They were losing sunlight. It seemed darker inside the forest, but the sun was almost gone from its edge too. She poked her head out of the thick brush just in time to see a series of cop cars follow a fire truck into the Welcome Center parking lot. The news vans would be here soon. The one thing Josh insisted on was that they always avoid the media. Any form of contact with them would give him nightmares for days on end.

She couldn’t worry about that now. Crossing the street and trampling through the brush in the dark were her immediate goals. Not getting lost or injured were close seconds. The media and Josh’s fears could kiss her ass for the time being, but they would have to keep up with her to do it.

Purdy waited until the street was clear of authorities before making a move. He and Stan crossed the street and cleared the ditch before Stormy was even up out of her hunch. She was halfway across the ditch when she heard the siren.

Shit.

She ducked down, but couldn’t stop from turning her head. Her eyes met the cop’s as he zoomed past. Impending doom consumed her. She had screwed up royally. Eventually, she would have to explain that grievous error to Ian and Josh and then listen to them rant as they covered it up. On the other side of the ditch, the group ran the first quarter mile in dense silence and ever threatening darkness.

“Do we have flashlights?” Purdy asked as they slowed to a hurried walk.

Stan was about to toss the flashlight to Purdy, but thought it over and handed it to him instead. “Here.”

He handed a flashlight to Stormy next. A minute later, three bouncing yellow orbs pierced the darkness. “If Ian and the map are right, the highway is less than a mile away in this direction.”             

It was slow moving. Stormy caught in every bush she encountered. Her sweater was shredded, the skin beneath scratched all to hell. There was no avoiding it because there were no clear spaces to stick to. It was a constant assault and effort to wriggle free. The idea was to stay in line behind Purdy and avoid some of the underbrush, but after he stepped over a bush, it would spring right back up and attack her. There was no relief in sight.

“Does Matt know anything about explosives?” Stan asked.

“Not anything he couldn’t learn from a video game,” she said. “You think he did this?”

“Didn’t say that, but I know what you think. Cold World, right?”

“Who else wants us dead?”

“Lots of people. Lots of government types by now I’m sure.”

“Ya’ll can keep yammering all you want, but pay attention,” Purdy said. “Those pricks you’re talking about are probably still here trying to kill you. Don’t make it easy for them.”