Z 2136 (Z 2134 Series Book 3) (13 page)

Sutherland returned the knives and pliers to their box, one by one—partly because he preferred that his favorite tools always stay neat, and partly because he enjoyed the ritual of show, making each movement matter as the traitor stared captive from his chair.

Sutherland wondered how well Connor could see him, with blood filling both of his eyes and all that flesh around them so crimson and bloated.
Probably not well, especially considering the excruciating pain he must be feeling, pain eating through his cells, into his brain . . .

He snapped the lid shut, thinking of Oswald. The doctor had never had a stomach for torture, either as participant or observer. Leadership wasn’t for the weak. Men in charge had to be capable of doing what others would not, including the extraction of the information needed for survival, the sort that would never be surrendered any other way.

And yet as he walked to the door without any parting words to the traitor, he wondered if Connor had really surrendered all there was. Maybe he would return later, to see if an evening alone with his pain might make him even more talkative.

Sutherland stepped out of the chamber and fell immediately back, startled, against the door he’d just closed behind himself.

He straightened his shoulders as the four men approached, feeling suddenly stupid for not having his sword. Something Gallus would do: an idiot’s move. Now that idiot, Gallus, was marching down the hallway with three men walking as guard. His gait, and the way he was looking directly at Sutherland like a child looking to unseat his older brother, gave him away. Gone was the subservient look Gallus usually wore. No, this was the look of a traitor about to betray the one man who could keep Hydrangea safe.

Sutherland squinted, trying to get a better look at the three men walking a slight step behind Gallus. No use—he couldn’t remember their names, no matter how hard he tried to dig back in his memory. Their hands brushed against their sidearms, almost caressing them as they walked. The three men drew, barrels leveled at Sutherland as he stepped toward them, then stopped just a few feet shy. Only Gallus held no weapon, and yet his betrayal was loudest of all.

“What’s going on here?” Sutherland demanded.

Gallus was trying not to blink or sweat, just as Sutherland knew he would try to speak without splinters in his voice. But Sutherland also knew that Gallus was only a kid and wore his gumption like another man’s hat. The harder Sutherland glared, the more difficult it would be for the turncoat to maintain his composure. Sutherland would snap the man like a twig, then throw him into the fire to burn. Once down, the other three would crumble like loosely packed dirt.

But Gallus’ voice didn’t crack. Almost booming he said, “You have violated Article 19 of The Patriot’s Constitution and are hereby under arrest.”

Sutherland laughed, trying not to bristle. “Don’t be ridiculous.” He tried to sound even, waving his hand at the three men and their silly guns. “And please, put those away. This entire place reeks of danger. Traitors are growing like weeds.”

Sutherland narrowed his eyes and peered at each man in turn, before settling on Gallus. “We must cease the mutiny
before
it occurs. Right now there’s still time for everyone to make the
right
decision. The decision that will keep you and your families safe.”

Without flinching Gallus said, “Under the law, I am acting leader until such time that a free election is held.”

It was one thing to be stupid, another to suffer such delusions of grandeur. If Sutherland didn’t feel the moment’s true danger, he might almost feel sorry for Gallus and his potentially fatal mistake. If Gallus was willing to back down now, Sutherland
might
spare his life.

“Enough,” Sutherland snapped. “This is stupid. All of it.”

He thrust out his arm, planning to grab a weapon from the closest soldier—
what was his name?
—but the guard flinched back and fixed his aim harder on Sutherland.

Sutherland looked at Gallus.

“Don’t do this.” Sutherland tried to keep his voice bold and not show any sign of weakness, let alone begging. “You’re making the worst mistake of your life. You know who I am, you know what I’m capable of.” He lowered his voice to a low murmur, almost a growl. “You know what I’ll do, to you and everyone else involved in this coup.”

Gallus turned to his left. The name
Benson
leapt into Sutherland’s head—perhaps that was the soldier’s name.

“Don’t you
dare,
” Sutherland snarled, taking a step back and hating everyone in the hall—himself most of all—for forcing his retreat,.

Sutherland opened his mouth to give Gallus one final warning, a chance to cease his stupidity and maybe save his pitifully insignificant life. But before Sutherland could form words, two of the three guards circled behind him while the third—and surliest looking of the three—raised his weapon to Sutherland’s forehead, silently daring him to move.

All four were fools to believe they could usurp him.

“You are a traitor, and you know what happens to traitors at Hydrangea.” Sutherland held his even tone, eyes still drilling into Gallus. “You will pay for this, boy.”

Gallus looked past Sutherland, toward the two guards behind him. “Take him into custody and free Connor Vinson,” he said, without the slightest quiver.

Sutherland allowed his hands to be shackled behind his back—no need to tussle with no chance of winning.
Forced to surrender doesn’t mean done.
Let Gallus have his little victory. He’d be less prepared when Sutherland sprang into action.

Yet Sutherland couldn’t resist one last dig at the traitor. Softly, almost sweetly, he purred, “I am going to slowly peel the skin from your body, everywhere but your face. That I’ll save for last. Oh, the fun I will have.”

“Our options are clear, gentlemen,” Gallus said, turning from Sutherland. “If he violates any of our laws
as we see them
, pull the trigger and shoot him dead.”

Ana sat on Dr. Oswald’s examination table. His office was in a secure section of The Station, several tunnels down from the living quarters. She looked around, surprised at how much the room resembled a City 6 doctor’s office, clean and sterile. She wondered if Egan had been able to smuggle medical equipment from one of The Cities or if the old train station had been built with a doctor’s office inside it.

So far, Oswald’s office—and the long hallway leading to it—was all she’d seen of this sector, which was sealed off by a barricade and two guards who had apparently forgotten how to smile. The hall sprawled for some distance leading into darkened corridors where Oswald said he’d conducted experiments on infected subjects found in The Barrens. Ana felt a slithering chill at the thought of being so close to infected subjects—and perhaps to already-turned zombies.

Somewhere deep inside—likely in cells forever altered by the virus—Ana could still feel when the undead were near. She could feel it now, an anxious patter of her heart that swore something wasn’t right. The hammering thud tightened her chest and made her feel like she was sweating more than her clammy brow suggested.

She wasn’t sure if her reaction was to Oswald, who himself had partly turned zombie before arresting his transformation with the robotic enhancements; if it was her brain messing with her because Oswald had informed her of the infected down the hall; or if she truly felt them nearby.

Oswald went to the adjoining room to check on something, leaving Ana to nurse her rising anxiety. She closed her eyes and tried to think only calming thoughts. But closing her eyes brought visions of zombies: chomping through the guards at the checkpoint, then snarling on their way toward the living quarters, feasting on the men, women, and children who lived here until there was no one left.

Perhaps even worse than the thought of zombies rampaging through the tunnels would be for the virus itself to seep into the population and spread like the filthy disease that it was. A disease that had wiped out most of humanity so many years ago. A disease seemingly eager to finish the job.

And for all The Station’s precautions, Egan was still undermining his people’s safety by not quarantining Calla in the secure area with the rest of the infected. If the girl began to turn before someone noticed, she could make The Station a memory.

Oswald stepped into the room and looked at her oddly. “Are you OK?”

“I just feel really nervous,” Ana admitted. “My heart won’t stop racing.” She paused, swallowed, then went ahead and asked what she didn’t want to. “Are there zombies nearby?”

Oswald looked at her, something playing at the corner of his mouth, a decayed eyebrow slightly raised. “You can sense them?”

“Yes.” Ana nodded, now meeting Oswald’s eyes. “Ever since I was bitten. I can feel them when they’re close.”

“Me too,” he said. “There are zombies topside, roaming The Barrens. I feel them all the time. But at the moment, we’ve only one subject, infected but not yet turned.”

“How close are you to finding a cure? Be honest. I want to know how long Egan plans to keep me prisoner.”

She knew the word
prisoner
sounded ugly, but Ana said it anyway. The doctor sighed, not correcting her.

“I can’t say for certain. We’re taking it day by day, but without more human subjects, it’s difficult. Believe me, no one’s more motivated than Egan to find a cure. It’s his daughter’s life on the line.”

“I know,” Ana said, conflicted. “How
is
Calla doing? How long do you think she has?”

“I can’t say.”

Ana looked at Oswald’s robotic hand and half-metal face, suddenly getting an idea. “If she does get worse, can’t you replace her limbs with bionic parts, like you did with yourself?”

“I didn’t operate on myself. I had others, trained surgeons, to help me. We don’t have the staff here, let alone access to the parts or equipment required. Besides, in most cases, the virus infects the brain early on, which would render any attempts to salvage limbs pointless. While much of my body had atrophied, the infection hadn’t affected my brain. The odds of that being the case with anyone else, especially Calla, are statistically impossible. I think I can keep the virus at bay a while longer. Maybe as long as six months or with luck even a year. But I hope your blood will be the key to a cure before that.”

Ana hoped that was the case: she didn’t think she could stay in The Station another year—not without her brother and Liam or something to make the tunnels feel like her home.

Oswald asked Ana to roll up the sleeve on her blue tunic.

She turned away as he moved the needle closer to her arm. Ana had never been particularly afraid of needles but couldn’t stand to watch as they punctured her skin. She waited patiently as Oswald filled four vials, then placed a small bandage on her arm. The doctor thanked her and carried his tray of vials through a large sliding metal door, beyond which she saw a room full of coolers.

She sat in silence, wondering how Liam was doing. Wondering if he’d found Adam. Earlier, Egan had offered her access to a monitor—one of the screens he didn’t allow The Station’s residents to watch for fear of exposing them to State propaganda. He told Ana that she could watch The Games to see how her brother was faring. She’d thanked him, but had said
no
, unable to bear the thought of seeing Adam while she herself was helpless to do anything to save him. That would make her feel more like a prisoner than she already felt. Instead she asked that he let her know if anything happened. Neither had to say what she meant by
anything
.

No one had heard news on the mission yet—not surprising since Egan had said that communications in or around The Outback would be simple for The State to pick up, so the rescue team would be observing radio silence until after leaving the ancient city.

She heard clanging above as the heating system kicked on and warm air poured through the vents. Ana looked around the lab, reconsidering her earlier stance of wanting to leave when Liam returned. The Station was filled with safety, electricity, running water, food, and company—all luxuries in The Barrens, particularly in winter. Then again, she couldn’t see herself settling in another underground community led by one man, one man who decided all. Even if things seemed OK now, how long before they ran afoul of Egan? What was to stop Egan from becoming another Sutherland?

Oswald returned and thanked Ana again for giving blood.

She asked, “How is Egan to live with?”

“What do you mean?”

“After what happened at Hydrangea with that crazy bastard Sutherland, I’m a little leery of moving into some other underground installation run by one man. What is he like?”

“He’s as fair a man as I’ve ever worked with.”

Ana laughed, “That sounds . . . diplomatic. What is he
really
like?”

“He has a few issues.” Oswald shrugged. “But who doesn’t?”

“What kind of issues?”

Oswald pursed his lips. “I’m not comfortable discussing this, Ana.”

She leaned forward. “What do you mean? Should I be worried?”

“No,” Oswald said. “Trust me. If anyone’s safe here, it’s you.”

“But?” Ana waited for the doctor to color his silence.

The door opened behind her. She turned to see Calla, surprisingly alone.

Oswald asked, “Where’s Elijah?”

“I ditched him,” Calla said, smiling mischievously. “I wanted to see Ana.”

“What did I tell you about ditching Elijah?” Oswald asked sternly, pointing a metal finger at her. “Your father will be ticked.”

“I know. But I get
soooo
bored with Elijah always around. I’m a girl. I need privacy. Girl time. Ana understands, right, Ana?”

Ana smiled. “Yeah, boys can be totally annoying.”

“Thank you!” Calla nearly squealed. “Just the other day I was trying to read, and he kept talking to me, like
nonstop
. He wouldn’t shut up.”

“Maybe he likes you,” Ana said playfully.

“Gross!”

Oswald sighed, “OK, ladies, I think this is my cue to leave you two alone. Let me call your father and let him know where you are before he—”

A siren killed his thought.

His eyes went wide as a red light over the door started to spin, casting the room in a strobing red hue. Ana tensed, looking around. “What’s going on?”

Oswald said nothing as he scrambled back into the office where he’d taken her vials, then returned moments later with a pair of blasters.

“Can you use this?” Oswald handed Ana one of the guns.

“Of course.”

“Good, get in there.” He pointed to the adjoining office. “And wait.”

“What’s going on?” she asked as Oswald began shoving her and Calla toward the room with the vials.

Oswald didn’t answer until they were in the room, and he was on the other side of the sliding metal door.

“A zombie has infiltrated The Station. You protect Calla, understand?”

The door slid shut and locked before Ana could answer.