LZR-1143: Evolution (43 page)

“Terminal? As in ‘kill your ass dead’ terminal?”

He nodded, frowning.

“Our scientists believe that the effects of the drug on the adrenal system and the heart will eventually be terminal. In layman’s terms, your truck wasn’t built to haul this heavy trailer.”

He paused, looking at Kate, then at me, almost apologetically.

“They believe that your heart will eventually give out and you will die.”

Well, ain’t that something?

Nothing without a price, right?

We made it this far because we had received the vaccine; I had avoided the worst kind of death sentence possible because I had been injected. By a wife who was trying to protect me against an evil too big to fight and too powerful to control, my life had been extended.

Apparently, that extension had an expiration date.

“So, what is it that you want from us?” Kate’s voice was wary, and a little stunned. She glanced at me and we shared a worried look.

He gestured to his aide, who opened his briefcase and extracted a remote control. He pointed it at the wall behind the General, who turned to watch the LCD screen emerge from behind the dull white paneling.

A large map of the country appeared in bright colors, topographical details writ large. Several cities had nuclear symbols over them, several more had small symbols that looked like flames, likely meaning that they had been leveled with conventional ordnance; New York was one of the latter. Houston, Dallas, Los Angeles and Atlanta were covered in the yellow and black nuclear hazard signs; Chicago, Denver and San Francisco with biohazard signs. Philadelphia and Boston, like New York, bore the signs of missile or conventional weapon damage.

The General didn’t elaborate, he simply pointed at a dot on the map.

Seattle.

The city’s name was blinking red.

Blink.

Blink.

Below the glowing red dot, a single, impossible name glowed brightly in a sickly green hue, next to the inexplicable designation, “13th Apostle.”

I looked at him suddenly and anxiously. This couldn’t be right.

“General, perhaps you didn’t get the memo, but this is impossible. That man is dead. He ... it happened weeks ago in New York. We found the lab, and ...”

He raised his hand.

“Mr. McKnight, we’re well aware of this. The agent sent to monitor you went rogue, and I apologize for that. He was assigned to your case by elements of our intelligence division to ensure that you didn’t spread the story of your experience with the vaccine and your wife. As you can imagine, we didn’t know what Kopland was going to do until it was too late.”

His eyes met mine and he sighed once, mouth turning down in a frown.

“I’m sorry about what happened to you, I really am. Your wife suspected; she even tried to warn us. But Kopland had connections from his cult everywhere—including the FBI and local DHS units, where your wife’s tips about his intentions were initially routed, and where they died. She wasn’t trying to steal anything. She was trying to blow the whistle, and she knew they’d come for her, eventually. She was trying to save you both.”

His voice trailed off as he let the information sink in. Although I had suspected this to be true, the words were a welcome respite from the weeks of tortured suspicions. I sank back in my chair and rubbed my eyes, stemming a sudden rush of tears.

Maria had died a hero, and I had been set up to keep the circumstances of her real death secret. I blinked back the emotions as I digested the reality of finally knowing. Of finally being able to put her memory to rest.

But this still didn’t answer the question.

“Then why is that bastard’s name on that map?”

It stared at me.

Kopland, Ken F.

Bright green, and blinking in neon glee.

Blink.

Blink.

Thomas spoke softly and slowly.

“That’s his son. He’s also a doctor. A virologist, and a damn good one. In fact, he might be the last one left on this damn planet that can fix this vaccine so that the people who are inoculated against these zombie shits don’t die from the vaccine.”

“But where ...” began Kate, as he interrupted.

“ ... do you come in, right? Simple. He needs to see your blood. Fresh samples. He needs to run tests. He needs to try to reverse engineer and adjust for the mutations that are already occurring in your bodies. If he can, he might be able to save us. He might be able to save
you
. Problem is, we lost contact with the Seattle lab several days ago. His lab at the University of Washington was reinforced by hundreds of National Guard, and had been made virtually impenetrable from the outside by existing security measures relating to his research. We thought that he, and his research, were safe.”

The sound of the other shoe dropping was deafening, even in my haze of exhaustion.

“But you were wrong,” I finished.

He shrugged and looked at the map again.

“Maybe. Maybe not. Could be a dropped satellite. We’re losing ‘em with decent frequency now. Could be a bad transmitter or relay. Or he could have been eaten. Either way, we need eyes on the ground, so I figured you could kill two birds. I’ll even give you the stone.”

He leaned back again, his case made and waiting for a response.

I looked to the map, scanning the other cities that were illuminated on the map. Many were unknowns, no markers, no signals.

My decision was made when I saw the small writing underneath a city to the north of Seattle.

Vancouver.

Kate’s daughter lived in Vancouver. At least, she used to.

I owed her that much. I owed the people out there that much.

This was a country that had watched me save the day more times than I could count. They saw me triumph over evil and turn impossible situations into victory. It was time for me to prove that I was a changed man; that I didn’t deal in fiction anymore. I dealt in fact, and I dealt in results.

Redemption would never come for me; I knew this. My reputation, my face and my name—they were frozen in time. I was a murderer, and my persona was forever locked in the charade in which it was unjustly wrapped on the day the world crumbled. But I wouldn’t be defined by that. I refused to surrender to the obscurity of failure or the defeat of impossibility. I was going to continue. I was going to be me. Finally and irrepressibly, just me. No more characters, and no more stories.

I looked across the table to Kate, and met her eyes knowingly. I smiled widely, and I saw the tear in her eye as she returned the look.

I loved Seattle when it was populated by caffeine-addicted rain junkies with an aversion to bathing and an affinity for dreadlocks.

Can’t imagine it was much different now.

“Where do we sign up?” I asked, turning to the General.

He smiled, leaning forward and slamming his hand on the table with excitement.

“Son, you just did.”

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