Catalyst (Book 1): Decay Chains (29 page)

CHAPTER FORTY

DAY ZERO

Mina sat down next to Purdy at the dinner table. Stormy tried to ignore the fact that Purdy had finished off another beer. She had never seen him drink anything but water and tea, but he just killed off a sixer on his own. Mina didn’t seem the type to let things like this go.

Purdy held his beer just above his lap and swished it from time to time. He hadn’t said a word since they left Aranchea and didn’t seem keen on saying anything now either. For hours on end, he stared at the space to the right of his feet. Like if he looked hard enough Killer would be there snoozing. Like enough concentration could bring friends back from the dead.

Mina looked gorgeous as usual. Her fingers closed the space between them and slapped the tabletop for effect. “Got something for you.”

Purdy’s eyes refocused on the source of the clapping sound. “Oh, yeah?”

“I sent it to your phone. Have a look.”

Purdy set his phone on the table and checked the message. No sooner had he enlarged the picture then the back of his hand wiped across his cheeks.

“Who took this?”

“I did. He loved training with you so much.” Mina laughed. “Look how happy you both were.”

Purdy locked the phone and tucked it in his pocket. He cleared his throat before downing his beer. “Thank you.”

“No problem. Listen, maybe when the time is right we could get another friend.”

“Sure.”

“You could show me how to train her.”

“That’d be nice . . . her?”

“I think a girl dog would be a great idea.”

“Stormy, hurry up,” Ian shouted from the empty room next door. “Guys make a hole. Clear the way for her.”

“We’ll talk about it later,” Purdy said.

Mina got up from the table and hugged him from behind before walking away. “I’ll hold you to it.”

“Their feed is jumping all around,” Ian said. “I can’t hang onto it for long. We might be your only audience, Stormy.”

“The show will be just as good,” she said.              

She fought to sit still as Mina invaded her personal space to fix her hair. The butcher paper crinkled under both of them. It was both a good background for her cameo and an excellent noisemaker. It could sub for an alarm system any day.

Roanoke was different than Aranchea in so many ways. The house was always warm and full of voices. But as inviting as it was, and as hospitable as Mina and Troy were, this situation was temporary. Everyone wanted to be back at Aranchea as soon as possible. It was home now, home for all of them. 

“Last chance to back out of being the poster girl for the rebellion,” Josh said.

Stan held a coke to his lips with his good arm. “No fucking way. She never backs out of anything.”

“She’s a good girl. And she’s right,” Troy said. “Warning the public is the only way to protect any of us now. This was never only our fight.”

Stormy tried to smile, but her nerves wouldn’t let her cheeks crack an inch of one. She had never been camera shy, but then again, she had never hacked a news feed to go on national broadcast before either.
There’s a first for everything.

“You okay, Stormy?” Stan asked. “You don’t look so hot.”

Ian hunkered down behind the camera. “It’s time.”

“Quiet everyone,” Troy said.

The chatter that horseshoed around the camera extinguished. Faces she knew alternated with faces she was getting to know. The faces of Phoenix, her brothers and sisters in the rebellion. Of them, her favorites stood out. Mina, the girliest killer imaginable. Her salt and pepper haired older brother, Troy, who was a grizzly to everyone, except those who stood with him. His grin revealed that he was really just an oversized teddy bear. And Noah, who had a toilet worthy mouth and equally repelling sense of humor, but seemed to fit right in with Ian and Josh. Like they were separated at nerd school.

“Stormy, I’m counting you down,” Ian said.

She flushed. “I have to pee.”

“Three, two—”

Ian waved a finger over the top of the camera. Stormy’s adrenaline spiked in response. The words she had prepared evaporated into thin air. New ones replaced them and spewed from her mouth at random.

“I never dreamed of ever having to prove I was a patriot, but always knew I was of tried and true American blood. Now I know they mean the same thing, being an American and proving you are a patriot. I am Stormy Theo and we are under attack. Cold World has an agenda and the biochemical agents to see it to completion. The recent attacks are only the beginning for them, but for us, for patriots, they are the bugle cries that send minutemen to the streets and into action. American blood shed on American soil is intolerable to the true patriot. Join me and fight back. Rise up against your enemies before they conquer you.”

Ian was completely out of his hunch before she moved a muscle. The crowd clapped for a moment before racing into the den and surrounding the flat screen. Only Stan straggled behind. He waited until Stormy was in reach to pat her across the back.

“Great job, minuteman. You earned yourself a nickname, I think.”

“Thanks, but I’m not so sure about your opinion. It’s biased.”

Stan wound his good arm around Stormy as they followed the sounds of the group into the den. He kissed her forehead. “See for yourself.”

Stan had been doing that a lot since the shock wore off and their wounds had receded enough that they could stand the pain of getting upright. It had only been twelve hours since their van pulled into Roanoke and died in the driveway, but on a rebellion’s schedule, that was like a week of R&R. Stormy didn’t have the heart to tell him that the feeling of his skin against hers made her queasy.

There were too many mixed signals. Hatred, because she couldn’t trust him. He shot Matt when he was still on their side. She could never be with someone who could do that. Stan may have spared Purdy and Ian, but that wasn’t enough to convince her that he could be the rock she needed. Lightheadedness, because his touch felt good and made the darkness go away. The temperature drop she had felt since the moment she lost Matt seemed to level out when Stan was nearby.

And just like it had always been, Matt’s magnetic power pulled her to him. Just like it pulled everything to him that wasn’t bolted down. Ever since that virus laced kiss at the production center, the pull was exponentially stronger. Her thoughts circled around him constantly, like a plane that wanted to land. The connection was unbreakable now, and Stormy feared it was unending.

The chatter wound up to a party level before Troy chastised everyone. The room fell quiet, except for the occasional snap of a soda opening and the news streaming live from the television.

“They’ll put it in their loop for sure,” Josh said. “Just give them a minute to get their shit together.”

“Might need more than a minute,” Noah said. “The guys on this channel have their heads shoved permanently up their asses.”

“Don’t get Josh started, please,” Ian said.

An emergency signal blared in the background. The reporter strained her voice to talk over it. Stormy listened, but her attention focused on the pair of photos that flashed onscreen. The voiceover droned on about the persons shown being armed and dangerous.

Stormy stared at the photos of her and Matt, set side by side on the television screen. That life was an echo from a former time. She could feel it, but barely remembered it anymore. They were so happy and normal. It didn’t sit well with her.

That girl had no scars along her neck. She didn’t walk on crutches. Her biggest worry was the style of flooring she would put down in the living room. A smile faded from her lips because of a bad joke her boyfriend just let loose. Stormy didn’t recognize that girl anymore. The one that replaced her had murdered memories in her eyes and a chill in her heart. The more she looked at the pictures, the more they deteriorated. She wondered if anyone else noticed.

All she could think was that those photos didn’t want to be next to each other. Their hatred wouldn’t allow it. If they could peel themselves up and take positions, the photos would have a death match right there in the middle of the screen. Stormy knew whom she would root for.

But tonight belonged to the media. It was up to them to get the message out. She tuned into the reporter again and prayed that she got the spin right this time:

“To our knowledge, we are the only fully functional news team still providing updates from the D.C. attack zone. We will continue to run live coverage of the events and provide updates from the Capitol, and all other effected regions, real time. Again, here are photos taken from outside Vallexor Industries while the attack was in progress there, three states over from the Capitol, simultaneously. Homeland Defense and the FBI have declared the individuals in these photos persons of interest, but will not disclose at this time if they were directly involved with the attacks in five American and three European cities yesterday morning. Nor will they tell us, Robin, if they are wanted for further questioning at this time.

“We were the first to confirm, early this morning, that the female on the right is Stormy Kathleen Theo. After several anonymous tips, the FBI opened an investigation as to her whereabouts. Theo disappeared a month ago, but is believed to have survived the mysterious epidemic that crippled Reamer Medical Towers. We have repeatedly reached out to Theo’s family. They declined to provide comments. Anyone with information on Theo’s whereabouts or information about the other individuals in these photographs is asked to contact the Department of Homeland Security directly.”

“Look at you making a name for yourself,” Purdy said. “And your first rap sheet.”

“As you know, Robin, Reamer Medical Towers is still quarantined, and the entire surrounding district remains under joint martial and local law enforcement control. Amidst serious media scrutiny, the NSA scheduled an emergency hearing with several members of Congress and DOD officials to request air strikes on the district surrounding Reamer be reconsidered. The hearing adjourned abruptly when the Capitol was placed on lockdown.”

Right when pictures of the rest of Catalyst started to flash across the screen, Stormy’s cell phone rang. Her mother’s name flashed on the caller ID. Even though it hurt like hell, she ignored the call.

“Oh my God, that’s me.” One look and Josh started to dry heave. “I thought we killed that camera.”

“We did,” Ian said. “It’s the same angle, but look how pixelated it is. That’s from a cheap phone.”

“I can’t believe . . . I’m going to have to shave my head or something,” Josh said.

“Don’t worry.” Noah punched Josh’s arm. “I’ve got clippers.”

“The Secretary of Defense is set to send a message from an undisclosed location in approximately a half-hour. There is still no word on the First Lady or any of the President’s children, although we did see Marine One depart the area shortly before the attack.”

“What’s that? Let me finish this segment. I’m live right now. Robin, we’re being told we have to move back—”

Screaming filled the background and diluted the voices the audience was meant to hear. Before the news crew could properly transfer back to the studio, the camera went fuzzy. When the newscast returned, Robin sat speechless. But before too much valuable air time elapsed, she regrouped and recounted the incident with stellar voice clarity:

“We’re back in the studio now. It seems Carla and her team need to move to a more secure location. We’ll check in on Anthony at the Dallas Forth Worth International Airport. Anthony, what can you tell us about the conditions? We’re now almost twenty-four hours after the—”

The studio transferred the feed to Anthony’s crew, but no live broadcast picked up. The camera lay on its side recording the terminal floor. Bodies with limbs tangled up in impossible knots, like motionless contortionists, lay strewn about. Some, although horribly disfigured, crawled along the floor in front of the camera.

“It's day one of the apocalypse,” Noah said.

“No,” Stormy said. “That was yesterday.”

Robin’s voice lost all composure. Stormy didn’t need a voiceover to figure out what happened to the news crew, but Robin clearly hadn’t put it together yet.

“Anthony?”

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Kate Wars was once a reading teacher, but is now a novelist and journalist. When not writing, she can be found with her nose stuffed in a book or binge-watching “The Walking Dead.” Either way, she’ll have a cup of artisan coffee or tea in close proximity. She also keeps a pen and paper nearby, because sometimes, her dreams try to tell her haunting stories. Her family calls Central Florida home.

Are you ready for the sequel to Catalyst?

Visit katewars.com to learn more about the Catalyst series and other works Kate has penned. Get updates directly from the author and connect with other zombie enthusiasts by following Kate Wars on Facebook, Google+, and Twitter (her Twitter handle is kate__wars.) Share your review of Catalyst: Decay Chains with other readers on Amazon and Goodreads.