Shadow Falling (The Scorpius Syndrome #2) (10 page)

She hurried across the soup kitchen in the direction in which Lynne had disappeared and crossed into what looked like a former medical office. Long reception desk, waiting room with old magazines, and dark carpet. “Lynne?”

“Back here,” came the call.

Vinnie nodded and inched around the desk, heading down a hallway. A door to her left held a couple of hospital beds and, farther down, an opening led to a kitchenette. Well, what used to be a kitchenette. Now a couple of old microscopes sat on a table surrounded by reams of paper and articles.

Lynne glanced up from a microscope, her eyes focusing. “How are the new digs?”

“Fine.”
Vinnie moved inside to take a plastic orange seat.

“Good. You know, when I first got here, Jax and I shared an apartment.” Lynne rubbed her pointy chin. “Not that I wanted to.”

Vinnie sat back. “He, ah, forced you?” She’d been told that women didn’t barter for sex and were never forced in Vanguard, unlike much of the remaining world.

“Kind off.” Lynne shoved curly brown hair off her forehead. “I mean, he gave me the couch if I wanted it, but we had to share the room for safety reasons.” She blushed a deep pink. “Then I decided to stay and share for other reasons.”

Right. Vinnie scrutinized her. Love shone in her eyes. Of course in drastic times, being tied to a guy like Jax Mercury also meant safety. “You make a nice couple.”

Lynne rolled her eyes. “We make an explosive couple, but I like us.”

A former head of a CDC unit and a special ops solider? Yeah. That probably did lead to an explosion or two. “Does your blue heart hurt?” Vinnie gasped and covered her mouth. “I’m so sorry. Since the drugs, sometimes my mouth gets ahead of my brain and I just can’t control it, I really didn’t mean—”

Lynne held up a hand and grinned. “Take a breath.” She glanced down at the glowing blue through a pink T-shirt. “The blue doesn’t hurt, although sometimes it feels, well, weird.”

Vinnie leaned forward, her gaze fastened on the glow. “Weird how?”

Lynne lifted a shoulder. “I don’t know. Just like my chest feels heavy or constricted.”

“That could be anxiety.” Or heartburn. Or any number of things.

“I know, but I can’t help wondering.”

“Why is
it blue?” Vinnie asked. “I’ve never understood that fact.”

Lynne shook her head. “When we first started experimenting with vitamin B to cure Scorpius, I was injected with an experimental concoction, turning my heart blue. We were never able to duplicate the exact formula again, although since it didn’t cure me, I’m not sure it matters.”

“Why blue though?”

She sighed. “I have both photosphores and chromatophores in my heart, which without the initial bacterial infection would be impossible. Squids and octopi have the same materials, essentially, and they can turn different colors—usually blue.”

Vinnie nodded. “I see. Both squid and octopuses are high in vitamin B.”

“Yes. I’m hoping that the government, while it still existed, stored squid somewhere . . . maybe in this Bunker we’re all looking for.” Lynne rolled her neck. “So, enough about me. I’m weird, right?”

“So am I. My brain is different,” Vinnie whispered. Damn it. There went her mouth again. “Since having Scorpius and all the mind-control drugs. I can sense odd things, and I hear voices sometimes.”

Lynne’s gaze sharpened. “That’s interesting.”

Vinnie chuckled. “That’s the scientist in you talking.”

“Sure. I mean, you can relate. You were kind of a scientist, right?”

Vinnie bit back a full-on laugh. “Said just like a medical and research doctor to a psychologist.”

Lynne winced. “I’m sorry. I do think psychology is a science. I mean, kind of.” She buried her face in her hands. “I’m an ass.”

“No, you’re not.” Hell, many scientists didn’t consider psychology to be a science, and that was fine with Vinnie. “Without
understanding humans and behavior, what’s the point of the rest of science?”

Lynne slowly lifted her head. “Sure. Let’s go with that.”

Vinnie eyed the row of worn-looking microscopes. “We can tell who’s been infected and who hasn’t, right?”

Lynne nodded. “Yeah. With a simple blood test, even just a couple of drops, I can see the infection.” She breathed out. “We’ve thought about requiring Vanguard citizens to take the test so we know who the survivors are, but that seems like such a breach of privacy, you know?”

“Yeah.”

Tace loped into the room, his black hat still in place.

“How often are you going to wear that?” Lynne asked.

The Texan shrugged, his big body filling the doorway. “Makes me think of home.”

Vinnie nodded, noting he didn’t say
feel
like home. But
think
. “I was hoping maybe we could find time to chat.”

A slow smile lifted his full lips. “Aw, shucks, ma’am. You hitting on me?”

She blinked, her breath catching. “No. Not at all. I want to dig into your brain.” She clapped a hand over her mouth. What the hell?

“I figured,” Tace murmured. “Didn’t mean to tease you, darlin’.”

She straightened up and focused. “The amusement and the flirting. Is it real? I mean, do you feel it?”

His smile slid away. “No. Not really. I remember feeling it, and I know what to say and when to say it, but I don’t actually feel it. Not anymore.”

Lynne stood and ran a hand down his arm. “You will. Keep in mind, you only contracted the fever a couple of weeks ago and you haven’t had time to heal. The B is in your system now and we’ll shore it up. Trust me.”

He nodded and patted her hand. “I do trust you.” The wink he aimed at Vinnie was slow and surprisingly sexy. “For now,
why don’t you dig into my brain, Doc?” He glanced at Lynne. “I’m surrounded by doctors. Well, kind of.”

Vinnie bit back a chuckle as Lynne frowned. Apparently medics didn’t really consider scientists to be doctors. “Aren’t we chock full of preconceived notions?” she murmured, fairly certain that all science really stemmed from psychology. All discovery originated in the human brain or, at the very least, the observations of the human mind. “Are you a medical doctor, Tace?” she asked.

“No, ma’am.” He pushed his hat farther back on his head. “I was a medic in the army, so I’m trained in combat. We have three real doctors inner territory, but none of them had much combat training. Now they have plenty.”

Vinnie nodded and pushed out another orange chair. “Too bad we don’t have a couch.” She smiled.

He wiggled his eyebrows. “I could find a couch if you’d rather snuggle with me.”

Lynne sighed and smacked his arm. “Knock it off.” She retook her seat. “Why did Bret Atherton think you were psychic, Vivienne?”

Vinnie’s shoulders went back and her breath caught in her throat. She turned her gaze on Lynne, reminded again of just how smart Dr. Lynne Harmony was. “Bret had access to my FBI files, and I had successfully solved a string of serial killer cases.”

“And?” Tace said, dropping into a seat.

She took a deep breath. “I was good at my job.” She’d always been able to read people and get into their minds, but there was nothing otherworldly about it. “After Scorpius spread, the government, such as it was, needed a couple of Rippers chased down, and they came to my unit for help.” Whispers tickled across her brain, sounds and feelings, more voices. Was she partially schizophrenic?

“You found the Rippers?” Lynne asked.

“Yes.”
Vinnie took a haphazard stack of papers and patted them into a neat pile. “I used my knowledge of human and sociopathic behavior to calculate where they’d go. One of them was a guy named Spiral.”

Lynne sat back. “He brought down the Internet.”

Vinnie sighed. “Well, he created a computer virus that did so, but he didn’t work alone. Eventually, the Brigade caught him, and he died in a firefight.”

Lynne gasped and grabbed Vinnie’s wrist. “You saw the Brigade? Did you meet Deacan McDougall?”

Vinnie tried not to wince from the firm hold. “Yes. Four months ago I worked with McDougall to bring down Spiral.” McDougall was the leader of the Brigade, the USA’s front line of defense against Scorpius, and was one seriously badass guy with a Scottish accent. “Knowing McDougall, he’s still in charge of the Brigade, but I’m not sure they answer to the president or his elite force.”

“I’d heard they’d gone rogue,” Tace murmured.

Lynne’s eyes widened and she removed her hand. “Sorry.” She winced at the red marks on Vinnie’s skin. “Was Nora Medina—I mean McDougall—with Deke?” She visibly held her breath.

“Yes. Dr. McDougall was with Deacon, and as they gathered information on the infection, from data to possible cures from around the globe, she worked on putting it all together.” Vinnie clasped her hands in her lap, out of reach.

Tears filled Lynne’s eyes. “So Nora and Deke were alive—at least four months ago. I knew it.”

Vinnie nodded, her heart softening. “I take it you’re friends?” She kept the tense in the present because if anybody could survive out there, it’d be McDougall.

“Yes. Nora is my best friend, has been for years.” Lynne smiled, her lips trembling. “I actually used emotional blackmail to get her to remarry Deke when I was first infected with Scorpius and turned all blue.”

Vinnie’s eyebrows
lifted. “Well, if it helps, they seemed very happy.” As happy as two people could be when most of the world was dying or chasing them.

“Good.” Lynne sniffed. “I, ah, am going to use the restroom. I’ll be back.” She stood to leave and tripped over Tace’s boot.

He caught her with one hand before she could hit the floor and then waited until she’d straightened before releasing her. She sighed and continued walking, bumping into the doorframe as she exited.

Vinnie watched her leave, bemused.

“She’s a total klutz,” Tace confirmed. “All right. My brain? I don’t feel anything, even much pain, and I’m not nearly enough bothered by that fact. Am I a sociopath?”

Vinnie reached for another stack of papers to settle into some semblance of order. “I doubt it. Sounds like a normal reaction to the Scorpius bacterium, especially if you haven’t had time to heal yet. Do you get urges to kill anybody?”

“No. But I’m fine if I have to do it.” He shrugged. “Before being infected, it would’ve bothered me a lot. Now?” His hand rested on the table, and his fingers began to tap. “I shot a guy the other day without thinking twice about it, and I also seem to be obsessing about things.” His shoulders hunched, and his hand inched toward the papers.

Interesting. Just how bad was it? Vinnie reached for more papers to stack, watching him carefully. She made the newest stack smaller and then tilted it just a bit toward the other two stacks.

A flush worked its way up Tace’s hard face.

She sat back to give him room. Images and thoughts, all male and irritated, wandered through her consciousness. No way was she reading minds, but she sure could read people all of a sudden. She shook her head, trying to banish the idea of psychic powers, and yet she knew what Tace would do even before he suddenly moved.

He shuddered.

She kept
perfectly silent.

“Hell.” He grabbed the off-kilter stack, aligned it with the other two, and then dispersed papers until they were even. “Scorpius gave me OCD.”

“You weren’t, ah . . .”

“Freaky organized before being infected? No, ma’am.” Tace shoved the hat back on his head, lines cutting into the sides of his mouth. “Aren’t most sociopaths obsessive compulsive?”

She eyed the perfect stacks of paper. “No. Not at all.” Sure, some were, but many normal people suffered from different degrees of OCD. “If you were a patient, I’d say that if the OCD isn’t altering your life to a large degree, then some biofeedback is all you’d need. No medication, even.” Of course the disease could progress.

His eyebrows lifted. “I am a patient, right?”

She opened her mouth and then shut it again. “I, ah, guess so.” While she’d thought she’d just be consulting with Jax and his team about serial killers and likely scenarios when there were specific threats, it did make sense that she act as a psychologist. God knew survivors probably needed counseling.

“So shrink my brain.”

She rolled her eyes. “Jax said there’s an office somewhere here in headquarters.”

Tace pushed away from the table. “I have a room toward the back that used to be a doctor’s office. I’ve made it into your place now. Let’s go and I’ll show you.”

She stood, her body settling. For months she’d wanted to belong somewhere. She could do that here, and she could actually help people. Once she got her own brain under control. For the first time in way too long, hope began to unfurl inside her, and she followed Tace from the kitchenette.

A shout
echoed from the other room and she turned so quickly, her ankle protested.

Tace pivoted and ran for the reception room.

She followed and quickly jumped out of the way as two men hurried in carrying another man, this one bleeding profusely from the leg.

“Was patrolling east and looking for ammunition. Ran into an ambush,” said a heavyset guy sweating under the strain of carrying the injured man.

“Put him in the first examination room,” Tace said over his shoulder, running down the hallway.

The men complied, and Vinnie followed to see them dump the guy on a cot before backing away. The smell of dirt and blood filled the air.

The injured man appeared to be about eighteen, with short blond hair and a goatee. His ripped T-shirt had a faded picture of the Grateful Dead on it.

Lynne rushed in behind them and grabbed a pair of scissors off the counter to cut open the leg of his jeans. “Wait outside, guys,” she said calmly, bending closer to tear the denim away from the wound. “Was he shot or bitten?”

“Shot,” the heavy guy said before exiting.

Tace finished dumping something from a bleach can over his hands in a sink set in the corner. He grabbed a surgical knife.

The kid mumbled something from the cot. Pain slid across Vinnie’s mind. Thoughts scattered like buckshot.
Mom. Help me, Mom.

The thoughts weren’t hers, but she felt them, and deep. The kid’s mom wasn’t anywhere near, but Vinnie was. She rushed forward and took his free hand. “You’ll be okay. I promise,” she murmured.