DEAD: Blood & Betrayal: Book 11 of the DEAD Series (17 page)

“How are you feeling?” the man finally asked after shushing his son.

“It depends,” Catie answered the rather broad question with a slight shrug of her shoulders.

“You had a few of us worried,” the man admitted.

“Yeah, well, I am gonna chalk that up to hormones. I figure I got a built in excuse for at least another six or so months. After that, I will blame post-partum.” Catie shifted around. Despite the calm attitude of this man, there were still some problems that she needed to deal with. For one, this man had mentioned injecting people to see if they would die and turn into a zombie, or prove that they were immune.

“I think a couple of people would like to see you for themselves. Maybe after that we can resume our discussion regarding Montague Village.” Elliot raised a hand and an instant later a door opened and a pair of massive men were escorted into view from behind a series of giant book shelves.

“Catie!” Melvin and Marty rumbled in unison.

She was still trying to make it to her feet when the twin giants scooped her up like a discarded rag doll and literally handed her back and forth for each to hug. She managed to eventually push free and step back.

“You trying to squeeze this baby outta me?” she quipped, giving both men a genuine smile and patting each on one of his massive forearms.

Catie looked around, her eyes expecting to see at least one more face appear. She looked over to Kalisha who suddenly could not meet her gaze. She glanced at Marty and Melvin, but neither said a word.

“Miss DeCarlo is in the holding cells,” Elliot finally spoke. Catie spun to him, her mouth open to say something harsh, but he held up a hand and continued. “The woman is not as receptive to things as your friends here. In fact, she tried to kill one of my men just this morning. He came with breakfast and she was hunched over in the corner of her cell seeming to cry. He went inside, asking her if she was okay, and the woman attacked.”

Catie had to wonder if maybe she would not have done the same thing at one time. As it was, she wasn’t sure that she was on board with Elliot or his plan. That brought up her first question.

“Did you already inject all of the team I arrived with?” Catie glanced over at Marty and Melvin, but the two remained stone-faced.

“Yes, I have,” Elliot answered. He made it seem as if it were no big deal.

Catie felt something inside of her twist just a bit. She felt as if she were once again standing on the precipice to madness. This was no doubt a razor’s edge. If she tipped even slightly in one direction, then the choice was made, final, and irreversible.

“And what are the results?” she asked. Despite the hint of nausea that churned in her gut, she was equally curious.

“Actually, above average. Two of your men are not showing any signs. It is very early still, but we usually at least see the tracers in the eyes within the first hour or so even if they don’t turn right away.” Catie started to say something, but Elliot silenced her once again with his hand and continued. “The ones who have already shown the signs were given the option of a very quick and painless lethal cocktail.”

“You folks sure love your needles,” Catie said, the bitterness clear in her voice.

Elliot seemed to suddenly be aware that his son and daughter were still present. He asked his daughter to please take Caleb over to the children’s section. Once they were gone, he returned his attention to Catie.

“Actually, I was serious when I said cocktail. It is a drink. It induces a state of high and the body just shuts down. The person dies in their sleep. It is as painless as can be.”

Catie opened her mouth three or four times before speaking. “I guess that makes it all better.”

“We do not get any happiness in taking a human life,” Elliot said, his own tone just a shade cold. “However, we are doing what we can to preserve our own chance at survival. You have seen for yourself the way some people react.”

Catie could admit that, but she was still not entirely happy with things. Then another thought came. “What about Clarence?” she blurted.

“Oh, he is not immune. He also refused our offer of mercy.” A cloud crossed Elliot’s features.

“He wants to see you,” Marty finally spoke. “He said he wants you to look him in the eye and be the one to put him down.”

Catie swallowed hard. Yet, for some reason, she was not entirely surprised by the man’s request. “Fine, let’s go.” She rose to her feet.

“Just like that?” Elliot asked, sounding just a bit surprised.

“It is a reasonable request. One that I see no reason to deny. Do
you
have a problem with it?” Catie eyed Elliot, her expression one of open challenge.

“Nope.” However, there was something in his expression that she did not trust or care for in the slightest. It was like he was keeping a secret.

Spinning on her heel, Catie started for where the actual doors exiting this place were located. She got all the way to them and then remembered that they were secured from the outside. She walked back to see Elliot smiling at her.

“Shut up,” she snapped as she headed up the stairs and made her way to the roof.

***

She reached a corner where there had obviously once been a park with a series of empty flagpoles still standing. Also, there was some sort of granite slab in front with the letters “TVA” on it. The building itself was almost stair step shaped. That was where she was told to go if she wanted to see Clarence.

She reached the building and was now used to the fact that all of the bottom floors of the buildings in this area had been not only gutted, but also had either massive sides of steel, or, as in the case here, huge grates of what could have perhaps been the front faces of a large animal cage. The bars were almost an inch in diameter and certainly able to withstand any zombie attack. She took a few seconds to admire the way that these facings were mounted. Even the largest herd would fail in any attempt to get inside. They would not be able to exert enough force to bend or bust open these protective measures, and since they were all larger than the space they covered, and the bottom few inches were sunk into concrete that was now years old, they were not going anywhere. And, on some odd chance that those measures did fail, the bottom floors were totally stripped clean. Nothing but support pillars were in place. Also, the bottom floor of stairs was gone.

Catie was once again greeted by a roof sentry. This one was actually at the first stair step. He directed her to a single story outcropping that stuck out from the left side of the building as she faced it. There was a cargo net in place. This one was already hooked to ground clamps. A few quick questions let her know that many of the buildings had their access gear already lowered and secure. They were taken up each night, but the need was not seen during the day. When Catie asked about the buildings that were handled differently, she was told that anyplace where the children might be were not kept open to prevent a child from wandering off. Nobody under the age of sixteen was allowed out alone and unescorted.

Catie made a quip about how she bet that fathers of the old world who had daughters would have loved those sorts of constraints. The guard, barely out of his teens himself only shrugged.

She entered the building and went to the fifth floor as instructed. A pair of guards greeted her at the entrance to a long hallway with cell doors all down the left hand wall. One of the guards looked like he was barely past puberty. His face was still fighting a losing war with acne. The other was not much older, but he was a fresh-faced poster boy type. His skin was flawless, his cheeks rosy, and his eyelashes just long and dark enough to make women simultaneously jealous, and just a shade weak in the knees.

She told them who she was there to see. One of them escorted her through and then fell in behind.

“Do I really need an escort?” she asked the young man.

“Sorry, those are the rules. Also,” he pointed to the floor, “you have to stay on this side of the yellow line.”

Catie sighed and started down the hall. She was told Clarence would be in the ninth cell. When she reached it, she had to fight the feeling of sickness that swept her up and threatened to turn her breakfast out onto the dingy tiled floor.

Clarence was definitely infected. She could see it in his eyes. The tracers were black and ugly, making his already unpleasant face into something even more terrible. However, it was also the smell. She had picked up the first hints of it while she was still a few doors down. Since she was passing one empty room after another, she was certain that the sole source of the stench was the one man.

Looking in, she saw Clarence seated on a cot. He had a mask that looked like some sort of respirator over his face. It appeared to be cinched tight enough for the straps to practically dig into the skin. The cell was actually quite large considering. The cot was up against the rear wall and still had almost its entire length again left in open width. There were an assortment of dark clumps on the wall that she had no trouble identifying as fecal waste. There was a puddle of urine in front of the cell that, due to the slight tilt of the floor, had run back into the cell to join a much larger puddle.

There was another smear that did not match the others. It was still a bit runny and had almost reached the floor from its ugly splatter design on the wall to her right. The smear that was still dripping down the wall was likely the morning’s breakfast by the looks. The man was stripped completely naked and his hands were cuffed behind his back.

“Is this the condition you keep your prisoners?” Catie turned to the guard. “And are those cuffs and that mask really necessary?”

“Yes, ma’am…I
mean, no ma’am,” the pleasant sounding young man said. “This man has a habit of throwing his waste bucket at us. So we have removed the bucket and will have to send in somebody to take care of the cell when he expires. Also, he’s a spitter.”

“Expires!” Clarence barked harshly. “C’mon, you snot-nosed little punk. Call it what it is. I’m gonna die, then I will turn into one of those walking bags of rot.”

“We already made that clear, sir. As soon as you pass, we will spike you. You will never open your eyes.” To his credit, the young man did not seem the least bit bothered by Clarence’s outburst.

“Yeah?” Clarence challenged. “Well, I am gonna try extra hard to come back quick in hopes that I will get to take a bite out of one of you sorry pieces of shit.”

“To what purpose?” Catie could not help herself as she stepped up to the very edge of the yellow line.

“These freaks might not turn, but I bet they feel pain, and last I heard, having a piece of yourself ripped away is pretty damn painful. Hell, I’ll eat you before I die if I get the chance.” Clarence rose to his feet and walked to the bars. He did not seem the least bit bothered by being naked.

“Is this really how you want to spend the last moments of your life, Clarence?” Catie asked with a tired sigh.

“Says the bitch that will be responsible for the murder of how many innocent women and children?” Clarence challenged. Catie’s mouth made an ‘O’ of surprise and the man laughed long and hard. When he stopped, he fixed her with his glare, made all the more sinister from over the top of that mask. “Oh yeah, old Elliot told us how things were gonna go down, and how you are gonna help them. I hope you burn in Hell!”

“If I do, I am certain that we will cross paths at some point,” Catie replied. “Look, I did not come here for this. Elliot told me that you won’t let them give you the cocktail. He said that you would only let me put you down.”

“Then he wasted your time. He didn’t tell you everything. I said that you could execute me. I told him that if you had the guts to spike me while you looked me in the eye, then that was the only way I would allow it.”

“Why?” Catie asked, not hiding even the slightest bit of how incredulous she was over this demand. “What purpose does it serve?”

“If you do it, then you will have my blood on your hands forever. If you don’t then you confirm to me that you are the weak coward I believe you to be.”

Catie dropped her gaze. There was a moment of silence. She felt the hand of the guard on her arm.

“C’mon, ma’am,” he whispered. “You don’t need to put up with this from the likes of him.” She heard Clarence start to laugh; bitter, nasty, and full of hate.

“No.” Catie jerked her arm away. Her head popped back up and now it was her turn to fix Clarence with her own glare. “You gambled and lost, hot shot.” She turned to the guard. Her eyes scanned him until she found what she was looking for. She pointed to the fisherman’s spike at the young man’s belt. “Give me that.”

“Umm—” the young man began, but Catie cut him off.

“I take it you were not given instructions as to what to do if I actually agreed to end this person?”

“No, ma’am.”

“Well that ain’t my problem.” Catie craned her neck past the guard standing before her. “You down there, get your ass up here.”

The second guard at the end of the hallway looked at her with absolute confusion. The one beside her started to say something, but Catie spun on him.

“You two can either do what I say and see to my security, or you might just be next. I think you are about to discover that doubting or underestimating me is a tragic, if not fatal, mistake.”