Rise & Walk (Book 2): Pathogen (18 page)

“That was very dangerous Nicole.  You shouldn’t have done that.”

“What was I supposed to do?” She bowed her head to the radio.  She wanted to yell but modulated her voice lower despite her frustration.  There was a moment’s pause.

“I’m sorry Nicole.  We feel better knowing that you are okay.” Her father said quietly.

Nikki lifted her head and took a breath.  Her father spoke again.

“Are you safe for the time being?”

Nikki looked at Tony.  She saw Jack hand him a radio.  Tony took it and spoke into the radio, something that she couldn’t hear.

“Yeah, I’m with really good people.  We’re very safe but I have to conserve the batteries.  I’ll call you again on this channel in a while.”

Jack Mason cursed over and over again in his head with a profane mantra.  He started the moment Veronica told him about the nice lady’s condition.  All he wanted to do was get the fuck outta Dodge.  He was a hair’s width from turning his back on the heroic ideas of his youth and just leaving.  Bushido: the way of the warrior; his form of chivalry adopted from the Japanese seemed more of a nuisance now.  It all seemed like the daydreams of a child when measured against their current situation. But there was a dear old woman out there who needed help.  Perhaps he could have ignored her and been on his way if he hadn’t met her, but having saved her life once already, he felt an obligation to continue his assistance.  He knew that the idea of becoming responsible for a life saved came from an episode of the television show Kung-Fu, but he took that show as gospel as a kid. 
You never out grow Kung-Fu
.  The hero of the show always helped the helpless.  Mason despised helplessness in those who allowed themselves to be so, because of weakness or cowardice; but the truly helpless, the old, the sick, and defenseless, that was another story.  He couldn’t live with himself if he didn’t try to do something.  As he realized that there was no way he was not going to help, the cursing subsided.   Mason figured the faster he took care of business, the faster they could leave. 
Looks like I gotta pick up a prescription
.

Tony returned from his conversation with Veronica over the radio.

“She tell you what they need?” Mason asked.

“Sort of.  She doesn’t know the exact prescription, so we gotta look for the name McCormack.”

“I’ll go talk to the others.  See what your little friend knows about the hospital and where the pharmacy is.” Mason said.

*****

Veronica turned off the radio and returned to the bedroom.  She brought a glass of watered down cranberry juice from the kitchen.

“Here Mrs. McCormack, try some of this.”

Margaret sat up in the bed.  She smiled warmly and accepted the glass.  She drank more than half its contents in four long gulps.

“Thank you dear, I didn’t know I was so thirsty.”

“You need to stay hydrated.  There’s plenty, just let me know when you are ready for more.”  Veronica said.

“Oh I’m all right dear.  You don’t have to worry about me.”

Veronica nodded and smiled feeling quite the opposite.  Margaret was in grave danger without her medication.  Veronica intended to keep the woman occupied and try to keep her calm.

“Well, if you don’t mind, maybe you can keep me company.” Veronica said.

“Of course dear.” Margaret answered.  She waited a beat and added, “Dear, I have to apologize, but what was your name again?  I’m sorry but I forgot it.”

“That’s okay; it was very busy when we met last night.  My name’s Veronica.”  She said understanding.

“Veronica; that’s a pretty name, it suits you.”  Margaret smiled, “Are you named after anyone in your family?”

Veronica shook her head. “Not that I know of.”

  The woman hesitated again.

“Did you learn anything down at the gate Veronica?”

“I don’t know.  I just took some notes about that… infected subject.”  Veronica stumbled over her choice of words in an attempt to be delicate.

“Why?”

“To see if I can better understand what’s gong on; why this is happening.”  Veronica said lowering her self to sit on the edge of the bed.

“You’re not one for sitting still, are you?”

“I just have to try to do something.” Veronica lowered her head and rubbed her eyes, “All I ended up with is more questions.”  Margaret patted her hand.

“I wonder if we’ll ever know why this is happening.”

“Eventually,” Veronica said nodding, “If we’re persistent and study the problem.”

Veronica saw that Margaret’s eyes were closed.  She thought it best to just sit quietly and let the lady rest. 

Someone will find an answer
, she thought.  She had an image in her head of a room full of scientists, surrounded by expensive equipment, working diligently to find a cure.  But she knew that sometimes there were no answers.  Veronica thought of her father’s illness and of the many doctors brought in to consult on his case.  It soon became evident that the doctors didn’t have a clue.  They just studied his response to guesswork treatments and mumbled amongst themselves while their assistants took notes.  Their studies pushed her father past all endurance. 

She bowed her head and forced the painful memories away, into the dark dungeons of her mind.  She pictured a box, the box that held her problems; its sides distorted and stuffed.  She imagined forcing the top closed and locked.   Veronica had to stay positive.  A cure would be found; it just had to be.

*****

Six figures stood on the North-East corner roof of the bowling alley sharing three pairs of Binoculars back and forth.  They observed the tallest building in town; Whisper General Hospital.

“Pharmacy’s in the basement.” Nikki said remembering having to pick up antibiotics a couple of years ago for an embarrassing case of Mononucleosis.  “Well, kind of in a half basement.  It’s the first floor but down a ramp.”

“Looks like the fire was on the top floor.” Mason said.

Billy and Gabe whispered to each other until Mason handed his binoculars to Gabe saying, “I don’t see any dead around.”

Gabe accepted the binoculars and began to look.  Tony looked to Billy.  “What do ya say?” Tony said.

Billy shrugged.  Gabe spoke.

“How many have you…killed?”

“Many” assured Mason.  “You just have to shoot them in the head, while keeping yours.”

“I ain’t gonna lie man,” said Tony, “it’s freaky and it’s terrifying, but a nice old lady needs her meds.  I wouldn’t blame ya if you didn’t come.”

The girl with the pink hair turned away.  Tony saw her and looked at Nikki.  He pulled her to the side.

“Would you consider sitting this one out?  Stay here and I’ll get you after.”  Nikki looked up at him with the expression of a woman considering a problem.  Her face relaxed and she shook her head with a tiny smile.  He nodded knowingly.

“Alright, but you stick with me.” He whispered.  Jinxy heard this exchange and spoke.

“I’m not going.” She said.  Every one turned to look at her.  She straitened her posture as if to reinforce her statement.  Mason nodded.

“No problem, we could use a sort of rendezvous point in case any of use get separated.” Mason said, “It’d help us if we could meet here later.

“Could you do me a favor and get those bodies off my lanes before you leave.” She asked; her voice cracking just a touch.  Billy deflated a bit.  His dark eyes squinted as he looked away from the group.

“How about you guys?” Mason asked.  Gabe turned to Billy.

“What do you think?” Gabe asked.  Billy looked to the group and nodded, reluctantly at first but then faster and with more certainty.

“I think Travis would’ve wanted us to help.” Billy said.

Twenty-Nine

Once the others had left, Jinxy sat alone in the empty bowling alley staring into a bubbling cauldron of Nacho Cheese. 
Two-day-old Hillbilly Fondue
; she thought.  Or was it longer than two days?  She couldn’t remember exactly.  She had a few nachos while waiting for the grill to warm as she made her self a hamburger and two for Gabe and Billy.  The boys ate fast and departed to help their friends even faster but she was thankful that they removed the dead bodies before leaving.  She wouldn’t have been able to be alone in the building if the corpses were still there.  They got up once before, who’s to say they couldn’t get up again and get her?  Jinxy left the kitchen and walked very slowly into the lobby.  There she was able to see and hear the small group of dead outside, pounding on the glass.  Jinxy walked very fast across the open area of the lobby and into the bar.  She turned off the television and sat on the soft overstuffed cushion of a worn barstool.  She needed something to steady her nerves.  She wanted to go back to her room and sleep but she couldn’t with those things outside.  She considered going back up to the roof and sleeping in her file box cubby-hole but that wouldn’t be very comfortable at all.  She wanted to feel secure in her room. The bowling alley was her home and she didn’t like the idea of those things so close with only glass doors holding them back.  She had to do something.  What did Duane always say?  “Ya gotta have balls.”

Jinxy shook her head.  Duane was a drunk and never worried about anything other than running out of liquor.  She lifted her head and looked at the massive collection of bottles that made up the bar.  She considered the sheer amount of booze.  There must be almost one hundred bottles on the shelves.  She stood up hesitantly and looked out the saloon style doors into the lobby area.  Lining the lobby on both sides were four late model arcade games; the big stand up kinds from the nineties in sturdy wooden cabinets.   There were enough arcade games to completely block the glass doors twice over.  All she needed was the nerve to move them into place.  With the doors blocked off, she’d feel secure enough to get some sleep in her own bed.  She turned back and went behind the bar.

Drinking always made her mom feel better.  Drinking always helped Duane feel better.  She had alcohol on a few occasions, but after watching her mother, seeing up close what it did to her, made the practice something Jinxy didn’t enjoy.  She poured a glass of Scotch; the thirteen-year-old kind that Duane enjoyed so much, the kind that smelled like band-aids soaked in medicinal mouthwash.  She remembered Duane celebrating her first major tournament win by drinking ten shots of scotch; one to toast each frame of the game.  She looked at the glass; saw the almost oily sheen reflecting on the surface of the liquid.  This could help her get the job done.  The pounding on the windows was louder now.  They must have seen her cross the lobby.  She lifted the glass and thought that having Duane’s brand of scotch might be a way to toast the man who she found herself missing at this moment.  “Ya gotta have balls!” She thought, and then tossed the contents of the glass into the sink.  It would take balls to do what she had to do without drinking.  The bowling alley was hers.  She didn’t need anything to give her courage, especially not booze, to protect her home.

Jinxy tugged the first arcade game away from the wall and found a wheeled board behind the unit.  She had seen Duane use it to move the bulky wood cabinets before.  She leaned the heavy machine on one side and scooted the board underneath, then lowered the machine onto its surface.  She was then able to roll the games into place, solidly against the glass doors.  Jinxy moved eight machines against the door; five in the first row and three in the second.  Each time she approached, the ghoulish figures became more excited and banged harder.  She began to sweat from exertion and almost threw up and when she saw Duane through the glass. Her heart broke for the man.  Her stomach turned at the sight of his lifeless gaze.  She wished she could slip him some Scotch and give him some peace.  But she kept at her labors, trying to avoid looking at his blood stained form and through much effort, succeeded in barricading the entrance. 

Jinxy returned to her room and tried to nap, to forget for a while the horrors of the last few days, but rest eluded her.  When she started to fade off she would hear Duane’s voice.  He didn’t say anything in particular but she recognized the sound; like when he would coach her during the clamor of a tournament.  The auditory hallucinations caused her to fly back up out of bed startled and horrified by the experience.  She lay back down to try again.  She was tormented by Duane’s condition and the lingering memory of his dead gaze.  She felt awful that he was trapped in that torn, decaying state.  Jinxy wished that she had asked one of the men to free her step-father from his existence.  They had guns; it would’ve been easy.  The big guy looked like he would’ve done it if she had asked.  The news said that any serious trauma to the head would do it; would put them down.  That’s all she wanted, to free Duane of his torment.  She would’ve done it herself if it would help Duane.

Jinxy began to cry.  Her emotions and lack of sleep joined forces against her.  Then a horrible possibility occurred to her; a way perhaps to help.  It turned her stomach, but her path was clear.

She collected what she would need from the alley and one at a time carried the heavy items up the ladder to the roof.  Ten trips,
one for each frame of the game
, she thought as she stored her cargo next to the wall at the front of the building.  Soon she had ten, sixteen-pound bowling balls in a pile next to her.  Jinxy hefted one of the balls to her shoulder and looked over the edge.  From her vantage point she could see the tops of the heads of living dead.  She almost reconsidered what she was about to do when she noticed a bald spot on the back of Duane’s head.  The whole time she’d known him, she’d never seen the man from this perspective.  She never knew that he combed his hair in such a way to hide his baldness. 
Ya gotta have balls
, she thought and dropped sixteen pounds of hardened polyurethane on the corpse, hitting it in the left shoulder, shattering its collarbone.  Duane’s body slammed flat on its back and looked up in a daze.  Jinxy had balls; nine more to be precise.  She picked up another and took aim knowing that he would want her to do a good job, to clear her mind and concentrate just as he’d taught her.  Finally, Jinxy’s accuracy succeeded, picking up the spare, freeing her step-father from his ghastly existence.

*****

Mason pulled up to the corner of a side door to Whisper General Hospital.  Tony backed in moments later at an angle blocking off a V-shaped wedge in front of the doors with the vehicles.  They shut off their engines and exited.

“Circling the wagons,” said Gabe, “Cool.”

“Make sure the passenger’s doors are locked,” Mason said fixing his sword in place over his back.  He checked the Luger’s chamber and holstered the gun.  Reaching into the bed of the Chevy, he withdrew the two climbing axes and slipped his hands into their lanyards. 

“No shooting until it’s absolutely necessary.” Mason said.

“And it probably will be,” said Tony retrieving an aluminum baseball bat from the Bronco, “but let us handle what we can without firing.”

“I’ll cover you with this,” said Nikki holding the twenty-two, “it’s the quietest we have.”  Mason turned without comment and opened the heavy glass door.  Billy and Gabe followed him inside.   Tony put his arm on Nikki’s shoulder.

“Look who’s become a little bad-ass.” He said to her.

“I don’t think Jack likes me.” She replied while pinching her eyes in his direction.

“Too bad he doesn’t know where the pharmacy is.”

*****

Veronica’s patient had slipped into a deep sleep.  Margaret’s breaths were long and quiet.  Veronica closed the balcony doors and pulled the heavy drapes.  A tremor rattled the glass in the doors setting Veronica’s fight or flight response alight.  Her alertness at even the slightest hint of an earthquake was a left over from her previous experience with tragic earthquakes in the Bay Area.  She immediately wanted nothing more than to run; run anywhere until she was outside and in the open.  Before she realized she had moved, or that she should bring Margaret with her, she was at the open bedroom door.  The rattle turned to a rumble and then a rattle again as something heavy displaced an immense wave of air outside.  Something wasn’t right and her logic found itself back in control.  The foundation of the house wasn’t shaking, the roof was.  Something huge had just flown over the house.  She cast a look back at Margaret and saw that the dear old lady’s eyes were moving back and forth in REM sleep. 
Good, I hope she is having sweet dreams
.  She grabbed her shotgun and closed the bedroom door.

Veronica made her way across the hallway to Lance’s office.  Outside the open, rattling, balcony, she saw a black helicopter gently land.  She didn’t have to wonder who it was for long as several men dressed in military gear and wielding automatic weapons stepped from the chopper.  Another man, with gray-white hair and a black suit followed them shortly after.  He looked very familiar; like someone she had just recently seen.  Then it struck her; she knew where she’d seen that face before.  She turned her head to the framed photos on the wall at the image of Lance in a graduation cap and gown with a grey-haired man.  The two were shaking hands and smiling; the way a father and son might, and that man was now outside on the lawn.  Lance’s father had returned.  Veronica turned and dashed down the steps; a cover story forming in her mind.