No Mere Zombie: Deathless Book 2 (18 page)

“I don’t want to fight. I am Diana,” she replied, giving a shallow bow. “Even if we could win, some of us would die and that benefits no one. Please, return with me to our compound. Meet Medico Roberto. If you seek to travel through our city he can help you. Surely it would be better to have us as allies. That is better than we few survivors fighting amongst each other.”

What do you want to do?
Blair thought at Liz.

We’ll head back with them. She’s right about us not fighting. It’s foolish to fight amongst ourselves.
Liz sent back. The subtext wasn’t lost on him.
 

Stand down.
He thought to the entire team. He could feel Jordan and Bridget relaxing from inside the jeep.
 

“All right we’ll go back with you, but if you betray us get ready for a lot of blood,” Liz-wolf growled. She gestured at their jeep. “My team will follow your rovers if you want to lead the way.”

“There will be no betrayal,” Diana assured them. She walked back to her people, who’d already slid into their rovers and started the engines.
 

Chapter 29- Medico Roberto

Jordan ignored his jagged thoughts, instead focusing on the two rovers they were following. They wove down a narrow corridor just wide enough for one car. It had been created along the main freeway by lining it with a row of SUVs and busses on either side, and must have taken hundreds of man-hours to move into place. A shrewd choice. It controlled the flow of zombies, channeling them into easily managed kill zones at the few intersections left open for people to enter the corridor.

Metal screeched as one of the rovers mashed a stray zombie into the door of a yellow Pathfinder. The move sent a shower of gore onto the jeep’s windshield, cutting Jordan’s visibility to shit. He flicked the windshield wipers, but only succeeded in coating the glass with a thick pink film.

“Fucking lovely,” he growled, leaning out the window to see. The wind provided no relief from the stench, only adding exhaust to the mix. None of it kept his mind from the dilemma.

He’d been worrying at the same problem for days, ever since the sat-link had come online back in the Ark. Mohn Corp was still out there. Despite the catastrophic damage that had crippled the world’s electronics they still had satellites. Somehow that wasn’t surprising.

It meant they’d been far more prepared than they’d indicated. They probably had a sizable military presence in Syracuse and were obviously still gathering intel. What sort of resources did they have? If it included aircraft, they’d almost certainly make a play for Panama. They might even be there already. Did he still have a place with Mohn? Would he want it if there was?

“There it is,” Liz-wolf called over the wind. She was right. They were coming up on a stadium parking lot. The inside of the chain link fence was lined with SUVs, just like the corridor they were driving through. Whoever was in charge knew what they were doing, at least when constructing defenses with limited resources.

The two rover’s paused in front of a bus blocking their path. A figure appeared in the driver’s window, aiming the business end of a .308 in their direction. Not the best choice of weapon. He might kill his first target, but he’d never have time to acquire another before they returned fire. Even if he could, the weapon was terrible at close range. He should be using a shotgun or even a heavier caliber pistol.

The man lowered the rifle, resting a hand on the wheel of the bus. It shuddered for a moment, then slid smoothly backwards with almost no sound. Was it powered by natural gas? There should have been more noise if it was diesel like most busses back in the states.

The first rover maneuvered through the gap, quickly followed by the second. Jordan depressed the gas, allowing the jeep to follow at an unthreatening pace. They were allowed into a stretch of asphalt bordered by a tent city. The part near the center looked like a market, while those tents closer to the edge were residential. He’d guess there were perhaps three hundred people here.

They looked ragged. Worn out. Most were dirty and avoided eye contact with each other. Children flinched when adults got too close. The unnatural quiet was painful. It was as if people were afraid of speaking, as if it might attract the same angry god that had visited the zombies and werewolves upon them.
 

They are in need of protection, Ka-Dun
. A voice rumbled in the back of his mind. It didn’t speak often, maybe because he almost always ignored it.

The brakes squealed as Jordan pulled into a spot next to one of the rovers. So odd that they still had those brightly painted lines for parking when the rest of the city had gone to shit. He threw the jeep in park, setting the e-brake with his left foot. Then he turned to Liz, spearing her with his gaze despite how intimidating he found her wolf form. “Listen, I know you don’t trust me. I don’t blame you. But we’re about to walk into a potentially hostile situation and I need to know that we can count on each other. Can you and Blair shelve your squabble long enough for us to figure out what our play here is? We don’t have the luxury of infighting.”

“We’re going to go see this Medico. If he’s a doctor, hopefully he’ll be reasonable. I’m sure he’ll send us on our way,” Liz rumbled, seemingly unimpressed by his gaze. She did dart a guilty glance at Blair.

“And if he doesn’t?” Blair asked, throwing his door open and hopping out. Liz followed, unfolding from where the jeep’s passenger seat used to be. That poor seat was never going to be the same.

Neither picked up a weapon and he was tired of trying to convince them they needed to carry guns. He rolled his eyes behind his sunglasses and exited the jeep.

“Then we deal with the situation if it arises,” Liz said. Blair didn’t look happy with the answer, but gave a tight nod of agreement. It was more than he’d seemed capable of only a few days before. Whatever had gone down between them had left a scar. They were good fighters, but he missed the professionalism of Mohn’s elite.

Jordan moved to the back of the jeep, swinging open the rear door and hefting the black duffle with the weapons. Bridget followed, so he handed her his holstered .460. “This is the most powerful handgun I’ve ever fired. Men have broken their nose from the recoil, but I’m betting you can handle it. You won’t find a better compact weapon.”

He picked up a 12 gauge for himself, stuffing four boxes of shells into his cargo pants. If this came to combat it would be close quarters.
 

“Thanks,” Bridget said, strapping the .460’s neoprene holster to her thigh. It was impressive how quickly she’d adapted to carrying a gun, especially compared to the others who were unwilling to even pick one up.

The conversation died as the snowy werewolf approached. She was flanked by two of the men in their ridiculous umpire’s masks. The cost to their peripheral vision far outweighed any protection it might grant. It was a security blanket and a bad tactical one at that.
 

“This way,” Diana rumbled. She gave Liz a deferential nod, gesturing for her to follow. Liz fell in beside her, smelling of wet dog and sweat. Jordan and the rest fell in behind her. The umpires kept a respectful distance, watching them warily but with the obvious terror of those who know they’re seriously outmatched.

They were led through several rows of tents, mostly occupied by families, though more than one held tables with jerky or canned food. Only one had water and it had two guards with M-16s flanking it. He felt their gazes, giving a grin when their postures straightened. They knew a manageable threat when they saw one. Liz would tear them apart, so they left her to Diana. But they could handle a normal man and as far as they were concerned that’s exactly what Jordan was. They were the only non-amateurs in the plaza. Water must be in short supply for them to have been assigned guard duty.

They reached the final row of tents, which butted up against the wall of the stadium. Diana stopped in front of large green pavilion of the type he’d seen at U.N. Installations in Africa. It was perfect for a mobile command center, again if resources were an issue. Four guards waited outside, two linebacker types and an odd pair. One was a short skinny guy with dark skin and wireframe glasses, from south India most likely. The other was a blonde in her early twenties with hard brown eyes and the best bitch face he’d seen in a while. The classic hot-girl defense mechanism.

Neither was human. There wasn’t anything obvious, but they were too aware of their surroundings. Too unalarmed by the pair of nine foot werewolves that ducked into the pavilion. Besides, the only way they’d have been left as guards was if they were more than they appeared to be. He gave them a respectful nod as he followed Blair into the tent. Bridget trailed after, hand never leaving the .460’s rubber grip. Jordan felt like a proud father.

A smattering of plastic chairs surrounded several folding tables that had been pushed together to form one large desk. It was cluttered with piles of paper, books and a map of the city with little green army men scattered at different locations. A bear of a man with a bristly black beard that grew like an untended hedge
stood at the tables, peering at his map. He wore glasses with a thick black frame and a battered fedora Jordan would have recognized anywhere.

“Doctor Roberts?” Jordan asked, stepping up between Liz and Diana. Both glowered down at him, but he ignored them.

“Commander Jordan?” Roberts raised an eyebrow. He rose from behind the desk, crossing his arms. His voice was frosty. “You’re the last person I would have expected to see, though I shouldn’t be surprised. The pyramid started this whole mess and I’ve long suspected that Mohn must be at the heart of everything.”

“You’re Medico Roberto? That's priceless,” Blair said, grinning with some of the enthusiasm Jordan thought circumstances had stamped out of him. It was the closest Jordan had seen him drift to the man he’d been when he first arrived at the Ark, before this whole messy op had started.
 

“I can’t believe you’re alive,” Blair continued. “How did you get here? Did Alejandro make it?”

“Smith?” Roberts
blinked
as he took in Blair. He stepped from behind the desk, offering a hand. “I guess it makes sense that you’d be alive. I’ve deduced that werewolves rise from the corpses of those they slay. Whatever killed you must have been the progenitor of the disease their bite contains. Fascinating. You’re the very first werewolf.”

“You know these men, Medico?” Diana rumbled, eyeing them with renewed curiosity. She licked her chops, probably a reflexive gesture, since she didn’t seem hostile. It was damned unnerving, though.

“Yes Diana, it’s all right. Could you ask Daveed to bring us some water? We have a few things we need to discuss and it may take some time."

Diana gave a shallow bow, then ducked through the tent flap and back into the sweltering heat.
 

Roberts waited for her to go before speaking. “Now then, why don’t you all explain exactly what brings you to my city, and why I shouldn’t have you executed?”

Chapter 30- Team Crazy

Trevor threw the rusted-out Bronco into low gear, powering over the curb and onto the other side of the highway. Irakesh thumbed his way through a book written in Spanish about Christopher Columbus, seemingly oblivious to the rough ride. It was the third he’d devoured in as many days. His thirst for knowledge was insatiable and Trevor couldn’t really blame him. He had thirteen thousand years to catch up on, after all.

“Did you catch that scent?” Cyntia purred into his ear, leaning forward and rubbing a hand along his shoulder. She reeked like a brothel, somehow managing to
smell
like sex. The fact that he was quite clearly
dead didn’t seem to phase her in the slightest.

That was just one of a number of signs that she was growing unstable. From the sly looks Irakesh shot her, Trevor was pretty sure the deathless knew why. If he had to guess, it had to do something with the either the frequency or the content of her feeding. She ate zombie and human alike, as often as possible. It had strengthened her. She’d gained at least two inches when in wolf form and was visibly stronger, but her once shiny blonde fur had faded to a flat dun. Her eyes had changed to a terrifying scarlet when she shifted.

It might even make sense from a scientific standpoint. The werewolf virus altered DNA. Eating zombies meant she was ingesting a rival virus. If the changes were any indication, both viruses were mutating. Into what Trevor couldn't say, but he bet Irakesh could. What he wouldn't give for one of Erik's CellScopes and fifteen minutes of the Aussie's time. He could analyze the blood and answer the question definitively.

“No, what was it?” he finally answered, testing the air. His sense of smell had grown sharper, but it was his hearing that was truly amazing now. Yet there was nothing over the roar of the engine.

“A familiar scent. There’s a female nearby, and a few humans,” Cyntia explained, resting her head against his shoulder like some needy cat. He ignored her as best he could, pity warring with distaste.

“Which way?” he asked, scanning the roadway. The heat was oppressive, but since he no longer sweat it didn’t bother him the way that it used to. He was simply aware of it.

“They are up ahead,” Irakesh broke in, closing his book. His eyes narrowed as he peered through the windshield. “See that large white trailer? A semi, I believe it’s called. They’re on top of it, lying flat. It looks like they’re clearing nascent deathless. There’s a pile of bodies around their vehicle.”