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“You must be with those others,” he grunts. “Kids these days.”
“I said stop!”
“Let me pass.”
I step next to Micah, bristling. “I think you’d better listen to us.”
The man doesn’t even flinch. He eyes our knives disdainfully and rolls his eyes. “Put those away, before you hurt yourselves.”
“Where are they?” I demand. “What have you done with our friends?”
He exhales tiredly. “Look, I’m unarmed, okay?” He extends his hands to show us. “Your friends are safe. Well, all except the one who was bitten. They’re down below. Brother Nicholas is attending to them right now.”
He tries to step past us and Micah slides over to block him again. “I said hold on a minute, Mister.”
“Brother Matthew.”
Micah frowns. “Brother...?”
“That’s right. Brother Matthew. Brother Nicholas is down—”
“So, what are you, some kind of monk or something?”
“Or something. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I really must go. I’ve some leaves to pick.”
“Leaves? Excuse me?”
“Your friend is in a great deal of pain,” Brother Matthew impatiently explains. “Mugwort and willow leaves are the only thing we’ve found that can effectively alleviate it.”
He steps past us before we can even react to this unexpected bit of information.
“Mugwort?” Micah says, turning. “What the fu—”
“And willow.” He walks off without further explanation.
“You coming or not?” I say, stepping into the elevator car. “Or are you just going to stand there until he comes back?”
“Mugwort?”
“Look, I honestly don’t care right now what he’s after. As long as he doesn’t want to eat us or kill us, I’m fine with it. Right now, my focus is on Kelly and the others. You remember them, right?”
I push the button and the door begins to close. Micah jumps in before it shuts.
The car drops several inches, then catches and begins its descent. I can’t figure out why it has to ding every few seconds. Maybe it’s marking the distance. It certainly doesn’t have to do with stopping on different floors because there are only two: ground level and the basement. Micah stares at me as we wait. I ignore him.
We finally reach the bottom and once again the door takes forever to open. I squeeze through as soon as the opening is wide enough.
Kelly’s slouched on a desk in the hallway, his head nearly down to his belly. He looks exhausted. Beyond him, standing just inside the room directly across from the elevator, is Ashley. And past her is Reggie leaning over Jake. At least, I’m guessing it’s Jake. There’s a body on a table. All I can see are legs and feet. He’s writhing and moaning in agony.
“Kelly?”
He turns, and his eyes flash briefly with relief and joy. But then Micah exits after me, and his expression darkens. He hops off the table and steps over. “I told you not to come here, Jess.”
“Glad to see you, too.”
“What the hell happened to your neck?” His eyes flash, and he turns to Micah.
“It was Stephen. I told you. He tried to choke me.”
He continues to stare at Micah.
“Micah saved my life.” I say it in a way to let him know to let it go for now.
“Right,” Kelly grunts. I lean into him, and he reflexively wraps his arms around me. We both take a deep breath. I can feel the tension slowly leaking from our bodies. How can two people so in tune, be so frequently out of sync?
“God, Kel,” I exclaim. “You reek.”
He chuckles. “You’re not so springtime fresh either, babe.”
“Guess we could all use showers.” I pull away. “How is he? How’s Jake.”
He glances once more at Micah, then says, “Not good.”
I go over to Ashley. She buries her face in my side. “I can’t believe this is happening,” she sobs.
“Me, either.”
“I’m going to kill him,” she whispers. I don’t need to ask her who she means. I know.
“You’re sure? Absolutely positive?”
“Yes.”
I look over at Jake. Up close, his condition is horrifying. I don’t know how she can stand looking.
She lifts her fingers to my neck and gently caresses the bruises there. I’m grateful when she doesn’t say anything.
“Any headaches?” I ask. “How are you feeling?”
She gives me confused look, then realizes what I mean. “No, I’m good as long as I stay within range of my Link.”
“It’s still inside the elevator shaft?”
“Since when did you get so brilliant?”
“Not brilliant. I watched it fall down the—”
“No, I mean figuring out how to use the Links to transmit the—” Her face hardens when Micah steps past us and over to Jake. If he notices this, or Reggie’s chilly reception, he doesn’t show it.
“If what you say is true,” I whisper, “then I wouldn’t bet on it working for long. Micah’s the one who wrote the code to allow our Links to act as transmitter towers. He can undo it just as easily. We might not be able to get out of here so easily.”
“We should just kill him.”
“Ash!”
“It’s all his fault. Because of him, Jake’s never going to leave. I just keep thinking about his uncle.” Her voice cracks. She stares lasers at Micah. If looks could kill, he’d already be dead.
“Yeah, but that’s not Micah’s fault. Jake got himself bitten. If he’d just paid attention instead of trying to show off, it wouldn’t have happened. And you’d still have your Link, too. Whatever Micah’s intentions, I seriously doubt he wanted this to happen.”
“You don’t know what he wants,” she growls. “None of us does.”
“Well, Jake’s still alive, and that counts for something. There may be a way to save him. I just hope Micah doesn’t get in our way.”
“Save him how?” she asks.
“I think Arc has a cure. Stephen mentioned it, and—”
“You can’t trust that liar!”
“It can’t all be a lies. If Arc’s got a cure, then we need to get him to their headquarters.”
Her expression doesn’t change.
“We passed someone upstairs,” I say. “He said he was—”
“Brother Matthew,” she mutters.
“You mind telling me who he is?”
“They just showed up. They helped take out the CUs upstairs. Now they’re trying to help Jake.”
“With leaves?”
Her lower lip quivers. I can see she’s drained, both emotionally and physically.
“Ash?”
“You can see he’s in a lot of pain, can’t you?” she sobs. “He doesn’t have much time.”
“Okay.”
“You shouldn’t have come.” She pushes me away and heads for the table.
“Ash? Don’t.”
She makes her way over to Reggie. And when I step closer, I realize there’s another stranger among them. He’s short and thin, which is why I hadn’t seen him before. Reggie had blocked him from my sight. The man and Reggie are holding Jake down as he twists in agony.
“Keep away from his mouth,” Reggie warns me. “Jesus, Jess. I wish you’d listened to Kel and didn’t come.”
“Yeah, him and wild horses.”
“That’s pretty much what I told him,” he says, giving me a grim smile.
He turns back to Jake and leans more fully onto him.
I can see where the IU bit his’s shoulder. The wound has already clotted, and the blood stain on his shirt isn’t very large. In fact, there’s hardly any blood at all. Maybe there’s more on his back. Either way, it doesn’t matter. All it takes is the tiniest amount of virus, and once it gets inside of you, you’re a goner.
He looks terrible. He’s deathly pale. His skin’s mottled and waxy. His lips are blue from lack of oxygen. His hair is matted with sweat and dirt.
“Brother...?” I say to the other stranger.
“Nicholas,” Reggie offers.
The man gives me a grim once-over, then turns his attention back to Jake.
“He says Jake’s got about forty-eight hours,” Reggie mutters.
“At the most,” Brother Nicholas says.
“Before he dies?” I gasp.
“Before he turns. He’ll be dead before that.”
I go numb with shock. There’s almost always a delay before a corpse reanimates, usually around twelve hours, but it can be as much as a full day after death. It’s why Arc hasn’t been required to ensure implants activate sooner than the typical three or four hours, long after the cerebrum typically goes quiet. Twenty-four hours is the legal window within which Government can inject the virus for fulfillment of one’s Life Service Commitment. Reanimation by injection typically takes another twenty-four hours.
All told, if they expect Jake to turn within forty-eight hours, then that means he’s a lot closer to dying than I’d expected.
“But... how?” I gasp. “Why so fast? It hardly even broke the skin!”
“The disease has mutated,” Brother Nicholas explains. His voice is deep and gravelly. “We’ve been seeing this happening more and more often lately. Now that there aren’t that many living victims to infect here, the virus is adapting, finding new and innovative ways to be more virulent. After festering inside the Elders for so long, it’s no surprise.”
Elders? I give Reggie a puzzled look.
“They call IUs Elders and CUs Deceivers,” Reggie explains.
“Deceivers?”
“Because of the implants. They look like the dead, but they act like the living.”
“Who’s they?” I ask.
“The Children,” Brother Nicholas answers grimly. “Followers of Father Heall. We do what we can for the survivors of the outbreak.”
“Survivors? Wait, you... live here, on the island?”
“Yes.”
“Permanently?”
This leaves me dumbfounded.
Reggie grabs Jake’s shoulders as another spasm wracks his body. It’s so violent it nearly dislodges both men. A shriek issues forth from Jake’s mouth. We all flinch. Reggie leans in to keep Jake from flinging himself to the floor.
Brother Nicholas must see the look on my face, because he says, “We have to keep him as still as possible. Muscle movement speeds up circulation, accelerating the entire process. If we could sedate him, we might prolong the infection long enough to...”
“To what?” I demand. I glance over at Ashley. “Delay it long enough to do what?”
But the man shakes his head. “It doesn’t matter. There’s not enough time. All we can do is keep him as cool as possible and minimize his movements.” He glances toward the doorway. “Where is Brother Matthew with those leaves?”
I hold up a hand. “What do you mean if there was time? What could you do for him?”
Brother Nicholas sighs and shakes his head. “It’s not possible. It’s too far.”
“You’re talking about a cure, aren’t you? That means you’re with Ar—”
Jake lets out another bloodcurdling scream. His back bows, and he arches off the table. Reggie’s feet slip. He falls onto Jake.
“Watch his mouth!” Brother Nicholas says, pushing Reggie away.
Jake’s freed hand is a claw. He raises it and rakes at the bite. Reggie tries to wrestle it away, but Jake’s fingers hook onto the collar of his own shirt. When it tears, I see a sickly yellow and green bruise spreading down his chest. Deep purple veins radiate through it like parasitic worms. Fresh blood trickles from the reopened puncture. Beside me, Ashley sobs and hides her face.
Kelly stands at the foot of the table. His face is deep red and twisted in fury. “Where the hell is Brother Matthew with those leaves?”
“I’m here,” a voice sounds from the far doorway. Then the man appears, his arms full of twigs. “Didn’t bother with the elevator. Too slow. Had some trouble on the stairs, though. I think a Deceiver might have tried to follow me down.”
“You let one in?”
“I think it was already inside, possibly one we thought we had silenced.”
“You said you checked them!” Kelly cries.
“Why do you think we call them Deceivers?” Brother Matthew says matter-of-factly. “It’s not like I can just check for a pulse.”
Kelly looks over at me in exasperation. “Can you deal with it, Jess?” He points his chin at a stack of weapons on an adjacent table.
“I’ll go,” Micah offers. He hesitates, as if expecting someone to stop him.
“We’ll go together,” I say. Kelly nods. No one wants Micah going off on his own right now.
In truth, I’d rather Micah stayed here. But I worry about Reggie or Ashley losing control and attacking him. They can be impulsive at times, especially when they’re angry.
We head for the stairwell and stop just outside the door to listen. I can’t be sure, but it does sound like something’s moving around up there, like a body’s being dragged down the steps. I pull out Izzy. Micah has his own knife. He nods and opens the door.
The stairwell is littered with bodies. Blood splatter and gore cover the walls, dark brown and thick, like someone flung cans of chunky stew at them. There’s a lot of coagulated blood.
“Damn Players,” Micah grunts, as he mounts the stairs.
Deceivers, I think. Not Players.
It’s an oddly appropriate term. Or maybe it’s just that Players isn’t appropriate at all. There’s nothing playful about CUs, not in the least.
“More broken necks,” he says, eying the corpses. “That’s quite a signature. Maybe those guys are military.”
“What, you think maybe they’re lying about being survivors?”
The irony.
I study his face, but he gives me nothing.
“It would explain how they knew we were here. If Arc’s tracking us—”
“Not since Stephen and Tanya died.”
“You don’t know that, Jess. Arc could be watching us right now.”
“Yeah, they could. They probably know exactly what we’re doing right this very second.”
He pauses just the slightest, then resumes climbing. I wish I could see his face, but he keeps it turned away from me.
“Well, this whole island’s wired for video,” he says. “That’s how they get clips to show on Survivalist. So why not this building, too? Of all the places they’d want to keep an eye on things.”
He makes a show of looking around, as if he could spot their cameras. I’m not so sure Arc would have them here. If they do, they’d be almost impossible to spot.
“In fact,” he goes on, “they could be the ones telling Operators where to take their Players.”
“Why would they do that?” I ask. “Especially if they’re just going to have a couple Marines take them out?”
“Who knows why Arc does what they do anymore?”
“Yeah, who knows?”
I push past him. I want to get in front so I can see his face. But all our talking has driven whatever it is above us into a frenzy. It’s moving more quickly now, more urgently. It’s time for us to focus.
We reach the CU two landings up. Its neck is clearly broken, but its spinal cord was either not completely severed, or the break was too low to kill it. At any rate, it has no use of its legs, just its arms.
We watch it half-drag, half-fall down another three steps. It faces us with those blind eyes and opens its mouth. Nothing comes out.
“Well, I guess Brother Matthew was right,” he says. “They really are deceivers if it faked them out before.”
“Can’t trust them at all,” I mutter.
“You want the honors?” he asks.
I wait for it to drag itself onto the landing. Do I have the stomach to do what needs to be done and finish it off?
Just pretend it’s Arc.
I step forward, lift my foot, and place it square on the Player’s back. I set the tip of the knife in the hollow at the base of its skull. I can feel Micah watching me. He’s probably getting off on this. I tighten my grip around the handle and squeeze my eyes shut for a moment.
It’s Arc, I think.
It’s Micah.
“Well?” he says. “Or do you want me to do it?’
“I got this,” I growl. I raise my other hand and bring it smartly down on the butt of the knife. There’s the crack as the blade cleanly enters the Player’s neck between two vertebrae.
The Player relaxes. The trapped air in its chest exits with a sigh.
Free at last, I think. Free to rest. Free from its deceiving ways.
“Congratulations,” Micah says. “You probably just cost some guy in Boston a million bucks. Or Seattle.”
“I hope it was five times that much.”
Micah bends down and gently pulls my hand away. He gives Izzy a vicious twist, then yanks the knife free. “That’ll teach you to volunteer, you lying piece of shit.”
“You don’t know if she volunteered. Maybe she had no choice being here. Like us.”
“Well, she’s dead for good now.” He leans down. “You hear that, you piece of shit? You’re dead.”
“It can’t hear you.”
“No, but its Operator probably can. I don’t know how long the connection remains active, but just in case...” He turns back to it. “You tell Arc and your rich prick buddies they’re messing with the wrong people. We beat your stupid failsafe. We’re getting out of here today!”
I pull him away, shocked that he would announce such a thing. “Why would you tell them?”
Because he’s working for them.
“Give me the knife,” I say.
He looks at me. Then he looks at the knives in his hands. Now he’s got two, and I’ve got none.
“Micah?”
Before I can brace myself, he thrusts it down again, deep into the CUs neck.
“What the hell are you doing?” I yelp.
“I just want to check something.”
“Check what?”
He levers the tip upward, up beneath the notch at the base of the skull and starts to dig. I can hear tendons snapping.
A high-pitched whine begins to fill the stairwell. It rises to a peak, then stops. An electrical-sounding pop follows. I grab Micah and shove him to the floor just as the Player’s head vaporizes. We both manage to shield our faces before we’re showered in gore and bone fragments.
“What the fuck was that?” I scream.
“I always wondered if those safety mechanisms were real,” Micah sputters. He spits to the side, slides his tongue over his teeth, and spits again.
I glare at him. “Of all the stupidest things to do! Why the hell would you need to verify that? Everyone knows it’s true! It’s to keep people from reverse engineering them, you idiot!”
He rubs a few flecks of hair and bone off his cheek. “Well, now we know for sure.”
“Asshole!”
He picks himself up and begins descending the stairs. “You coming?”
I stare at his back, wondering if there was something about this Player and its implant he didn’t want me seeing.
