Orpheus (10 page)

They found the security room and the digital recorders. Sam turned on up the portable car jumpstarter and they plugged the DVR and monitor into the AC outlets. Fish had been right on the money; the last thing the tapes showed was a few days after the outbreak, presumably just before the power went down permanently.

“Told ya,” was all he said, even though Mutt knew he really wanted to brag.

“Anyone think we should bother with the second bank?”

They all agreed that it would be a waste of time, so they stealthily reentered the sewers.

Three men moved back the way they came, toward headquarters. The fourth, Fish, hesitated.

“What are you waiting for?” Mutt asked.

“I'm just thinking that this is our chance to find out for sure what happened to this kid.”

“We stick to the plan.”

“C'mon, Mutt! This is our shot to end this! He's been in these tunnels; I knew it then, and I'm certain now. If we find the kid alive, we bring him back and Orpheus has quadruplets just so he can name them after us. If he's dead, we can put him down and his dad never, ever has to find him. That's what we all want, right?”

Tim objected. “I don't think that's such a good idea. We should tell him.”

“How did I know that you'd object?”

“Uh, because it's stupid?”

“Fuck you, bait. Feel free to take your pussy ass back anytime.”

Tim clenched his fists and stepped towards Fish, “I've had it up to here with your shit, Marvin.”

Fish's eyes got wide at the mention of his birth name. “Oh, you're gonna-”

“Both of you shut up!” Mutt ordered. “Sam?”

Sam adjusted his gear. “As much as I hate to say it, Fish's right. We've come this far. He's already going to be pissed if he finds out, and he's going to, eventually. But as long as there's even a slight chance of a happy ending, I say we take the bull by the horns. It's easier to beg forgiveness than ask permission."

“That makes three. Tim? We could really use you.”

This is the biggest test yet. If I turn my back now, I'm dead to them.

“I don't like it, but I'm in.”

“That's what I'm talkin' about, bait!” Fish yelled, all recent hostilities apparently forgotten. “I'll even forgive that crack about my name.”

* * *

Though they couldn't pass it on to their visitors, this is what the cameras at the second bank saw:

A car careened into frame and took out several zombies, in support of a large group of people moving toward the manhole. The group took no obvious casualties and made it to their destination. A large, muscled man jammed a crowbar into the notch and lifted the cover off while everyone else fought.

Three people jumped out of the sedan, then they all started dropping out of sight.

The last two people above ground were a young man and woman. When everyone else was clear, the man motioned for the woman to jump down, which she quickly did. He dropped into the hole, wrestled the cover back into place just as more zombies got to him, and disappeared from sight.

* * *

Dr. Vincent handed Trager a vial. “I believe this is it, though it is severely limited by the nature of what I have to deal with.”

Trager held it up and swished it around as if that would reveal its secrets. Or because that's what scientists did on TV. “You work fast, Dr.”

“I told you that all I needed was a better specimen. Once I got that the rest was fairly easy. This should slow the mutation considerably, though the eventual result will always be death followed by reanimation. And, before you ask, no, I don't think it's possible to reverse it. When a subject is, ahem, zombified, it's all over. Slowing is as good as it gets right now, I'm afraid, though I have high hopes I'll eventually learn how to stop it in its tracks.”

Trager liked what he heard. “How confident are you that it will work?”

“Very, but being a true scientist, I'll need to test it further before I'll brand it a success.”

“I'll arrange for more specimens to be brought in.”

Dr. Vincent shook his head. “That's one of the limitations I was speaking of. The drones from the lower floors have been infected for far too long for this to have any effect. To put it bluntly, they've already died.”

“So what do you need?”

“I already have it.”

"What do you mean?"

"Oh, nothing. Just scientific gobbledygook."

Trager squinted and examined Dr. Vincent. He already knew that something was off about him, but now he seemed more off. He couldn't put his finger on it. "Okay. Keep me posted."

"Of course." Trager left, and Dr. Vincent was left alone in his lab. He produced a syringe from his pocket. It was filled with a red liquid that looked suspiciously like blood.

He looked at his two assistants working in the next room. He had a decision to make. Even if the girl, Jen, wasn't as capable as she was, the Dr. would have had a hard time picking her. Whatever else he may be, he was chivalrous.

He raised his voice and took a shot. “Cody, could you join me in the lab for a moment?”

The doctor was on a roll. He'd guessed right.

* * *

The two-way radio on the coffee table shouted, “Holt! Come to the lab. There's something I want to show you.” Holt rubbed the sleep out of his eyes and checked his watch.

3:00 am? I've been asleep for sixteen hours?

He grabbed the radio and responded, “Ten minutes.”

“Now.”

“Twenty minutes.”

He waited for an argument but got none. He stood up, stretched, and threw his pants and weapon on.

As a good faith gesture, he was there in five minutes.

“What is it?”

Trager raised his eyebrows. “You look like hell, Holt.”

“Thanks. Now what do you want?”

“I want you to see a miracle. Come with me.”

Holt followed, wary and alert. When he passed through the sliding glass doors he saw Dr. Vincent circling two bodies strapped to a table. He recognized the Jekyll, but he didn't think he knew the other...wait. “Is that your assistant?”

Dr. Vincent adopted a suitably sad tone. Holt didn't buy it for a moment. “Cody, yes. He got...careless...around this beast here. But his death won't be in vain, I assure you. He gave us the opportunity to achieve this.” He held up the vial with even more reverence than he had earlier with Trager.

“Okay, I'll bite.”

“Perfect choice of words, Mr. Holt. Young Cody here was infected three hours ago, and he has yet to suffer the transition. I'm sure that you've seen it enough to know that's extraordinary.”

Holt nodded in agreement. “It normally takes less than fifteen minutes. I've seen it happen in as little as twenty seconds, or as long as an hour, though. What are you saying you've accomplished?”

“Well, with the proper, and prompt, application of this serum, we can slow the transition process enough to reap some benefits.”

“Such as making an outbreak easier to contain. More manageable.”

“Yes. And another, which I can show you now.” He produced a syringe. “This will counteract the sedative I gave him.” He injected Cody, and within a few moments the man's eyelids fluttered, then opened. His lips parted and pursed, as if he was trying to say something.

“Now, now, young man, can you tell me your name?”

Holt tensed in expectation of a snarling, murderous response. He wasn't ready for the actual response,“C-Cody Pomeroy.”

Holt was floored. Vincent had done it. His methods were questionable, at best, but his breakthrough meant that the human race could thrive again, if it survived the current crisis.

Cody moved his head towards Dr. Vincent and tried to focus. “Y-you d-d-did th-” He was cut off by another injection of sedative.

Not that it mattered. Orpheus was too preoccupied to notice the deathbed accusation, or the doctor's behavior, or that there was no actual bite wound on Cody. All he could think of was that, if he'd had this serum before, he might have found his son already.

He left the other two men in his wake and paced absentmindedly around the floor. He composed himself and headed to Mutt's room. He need someone to talk to. He normally would go to Lena, but she spent way too much time babying him earlier, and he decided to give her a break. He figured his best friend in this new world could sacrifice some sleep for him. He knocked repeatedly on the door and announced himself several times before he walked in uninvited.

Mutt wasn't there.

He tried Sam's next door and got the same result.

More out of curiosity than out of a desire to talk anymore, he tried Fish's and, lastly, Tim's.

Now he was getting annoyed, and just a little bit worried. He couldn't remember the last time none of them were in their rooms. Typically, if one of the rooms was vacant it was because its occupant was drinking in another's.

He decided that he was going to bother Lena after all. She'd be up coordinating the reap anyway.

She was, and she answered the door shortly after his second angry knock. “Hey, Cam. What's up?'

He pushed past her. “Where are they?”

“Who?”

“Cut the shit, Lena, and tell me where they are.”

Lena tried to remember the cover story they came up with. At the time, she was confident that he would buy it for at least a little while, and when he eventually figured that something was up, they'd be back with enough info to go to him. But the look in his eyes made every bit of her confidence crumble away, and she had no idea what to say.

“Lena, I'm not playing around.”

“I wanted to tell you, but I didn't want to get your hopes up until we had a chance to find out for sure!”

“Tell me about what?”

She couldn't find the words, so she simply turned the laptop monitor towards Holt, found the file, and played it.

“What am I watching?”

“Just wait.” She'd watched it dozens of times, so she kept her attention focused on Holt's face. Even before Ethan appeared, she could tell that his father knew what was going to happen. It didn't make it any easier for him, and when Ethan finally did make his brief appearance, Holt's face lit up and sank at the same time. He reached for the touch pad and rewound it several times, before he raised his eyes from the monitor.

“How long have you known about this?”

“Only a few hours, Cameron. You grabbed this particular phone last night.”

“And where is my team?”

“They, um, look at this.” She showed him on the map. “Last you knew, your wife was here. Ethan was here, and headed in this direction. He had to pass these cameras here and here. The guys are getting a look at that video.” Holt said nothing, and Lena tried to fill the uncomfortable silence. “I just wanted to be sure, that's all.”

Lena could see him trying to retain his composure. “You should have told me about this.”

“I know, Cameron, I know. I just...you know.” She reached across the desk and put her hand on top of his.

“Don't fucking touch me! This wasn't your call! It's my team! IT'S MY SON!!!” He pounded his fist against the desk and the laptop jumped several inches. She recoiled as if he'd slapped her. She knew then that his hurt and rage had barely been contained for the entire time that she'd known him. She couldn't imagine how difficult it must have been for him to maintain control on the surface while in such turmoil. She only now began to understand the magnitude of her mistake.

Holt kicked over his chair and walked to the window. It faced the opposite direction of where the team should be (and, she wondered, why weren't they back by now?), but she didn't think that was his intention. He started to breathe deeply and slowly, fists clenching and unclenching.

Did I go too far?
she thought.

After what seemed like hours to Lena, he said, “Get them back. Right now.”

She didn't hesitate. “Scalpel 2, this is HQ.”

She got a response, but it wasn't from who she expected. “Lena, it's Sam.”

“Hey, Sam. The jig is up, so bring it on back.”

“Um, we would if we could.”

Holt heard the tension in the other man's voice and moved closer. He grabbed the radio and said, “That's an order, Sam.”

“Oh, hi, boss. Like I said, we would if we could, but we're kind of delayed.”

“Delayed?”

“Trapped.”

“What?”

“And Mutt's been bitten.”

Lena gasped.

“WHAT?!?”

“Sorry, boss. We fucked up.”

“Don't move. I'll be right there.”

“That's a bad idea, Orpheus.” Holt ignored it and scratched his temple with the antenna. “Orpheus?” Sam repeated. Holt tossed the radio back to Lena.

“Find out where they are and let me know!” He ran out of her quarters.