The Night Sweeper: Assassin: A Zombie Conspiracy Novel (The Sweeper Chronicles Book 2) (11 page)

A few hours of broken sleep have gone by. What
little I've gotten has been filled with nightmares of Mira and Damian. I wake
again, but this time's different. Ming is crouched by my side, her hand on my
arm.

“Cray, wake up,” she says. “We're not alone here.”

The words are enough to jar me into instant alertness,
and I slide quickly off of the bed, my legs nearly buckling as my head swims
nauseatingly. She hands me my gun, and I manage to fully stand, albeit
shakily. My first thought is Festers, but I become aware of the faint
sound of a conversation. Whoever it is, they seem to be going about business as
usual with no knowledge of our presence, their talk casual.

I motion for Ming to follow me and she takes my flank,
her own weapon drawn and ready. I try to ignore the fiery ache in my left
shoulder and slink towards the sound of the conversation. There are three
voices, two men and a woman. As we move deeper into the cavernous darkness of
the medical center, we round a corner and are able to see candlelight up ahead
in conjunction with the people talking.

One of the male voices is speaking. “I think we'll be
okay. The crops are above average this season, and I don't think we'll have any
problem with the extra strain.”

“Do you think he's a good fit?” the woman says.

The other man speaks now. “Toby's a good kid and all
the rest like him. Besides, he doesn't have anyone else. He's only ten years
old for cryin' out loud.”

“He'll do fine.” The first man again. “He's a hard
worker. He'll pull his own weight and then some. He's been through a lot,
Anne.”

“I know,” the woman, apparently Anne, responds. “It's
just been a long time since we've had anyone new, and I'm scared of losing what
we have. What if he decides this isn't for him six months down the road?”

“Then we take him back. Help him settle. He's got no
reason to tell anyone about us, and even if he did, nobody cares. You know
that. Besides, what passes for foster care since the outbreak is a sad joke.
He's better off with us.” He pauses, and when he speaks again, his voice takes
on a wistful sound. “It'll be nice to have some youth around here again.”

Ming leans in close to my ear where we're crouched.

“Outliers?” she says.

I think about the possibility of that. “Maybe,” I say.

Whatever they are, they don't seem to be part of the
“general establishment”, and they're certainly not soldiers or lawmen. I make a
decision, and stand slowly, Ming immediately following suit. Walking slowly
around the corner and into the candlelight, I raise my hands to convey a lack
of hostility with my posture.

As soon as I come into view, the group gasps as a
single unit, and leaps up from their seats prepared to run.

“Wait,” I say. “Please. We mean you no harm.”

Now they're like deer caught in headlights, their faces
a mixture of fear and shock.

One of the men, an older gentleman wearing stained
overalls, speaks, and I recognize the voice of the first man.

“What do you want?” he says. He's definitely afraid,
and his voice cracks a little, laced with undertones of tension. “We're just
plain folk trying to make it out here on our own. Please don't hurt us.”

“I said we weren't going to harm you, and I meant it,”
I say.

He eyes us suspiciously, his eyes taking in my
bloodstained naked torso and the nasty wound in my shoulder which still hurts
like heck.

Something passes across the man's expression. The fear
is still there, but when he speaks again, his voice is stronger than before.

“Are you alright son? You don't look so good.”

I give a short snort of laughter. “I've seen better
days.”

“You some kinda law breakers?”

I lie. “No.”

“Were scavengers,” Ming chimes in. “We come out to the
old cities and try to find goods to sell back home. It's rough work. We ran
into some others and got in a little territorial dispute. They attacked my
friend.” She looks over at me with concern. I can't tell if it's genuine or put
on. “We broke in here looking for medical supplies.”

The old man still looks dubious, but the story is
fairly plausible, and I'm impressed with Ming's quick thinking. There have
always been rumors of scavengers that go out and find old things for their own
use or to trade in the large safe havens. I've never met one myself, but given
Ming's involvement in the black market, I imagine she's come into contact with
one or two.

“Look,” I say, “I know we're armed, and probably look a
little disreputable right now, but if we wanted to hurt you, you'd already be
dead.”

The woman, Anne, clears her throat, and the older man
looks at her and the younger man, some unspoken understanding passing between
them. Finally, the old gentleman speaks again.

“My name's Andrew, but everybody usually just calls me
preacher. This is Anne and Scott.” He gestures to each in turn.

Ming speaks next. “Are you outliers?”

The younger man, Scott, responds this time.

“You could call it that I guess. You can think of us as
a religious group minus the weird cultish stuff. We're just trying to live a
quiet life on our own here.”

“This is your home?” I say.

“Yes.”

“How did you get in?” Andrew asks.

“We broke a window in the ER.”

Andrew casts a glance at Anne. “Run ahead and get some
of the men and get down there and patch it up real quick like,” he says. “We
don't want any unwanted visitors if they haven't already got inside.”

Anne gives us another appraising look, then heads off
down the hallway, taking one of the candles with her.

Andrew turns back to us. I can tell he's still afraid,
but he speaks confidently, betraying none of the apprehension with his voice.

“Come with us.” And he moves off without waiting for a
response.

After several minutes of walking and a multitude of
twists and turns, I'm fighting for consciousness in the wake of my pain and
blood loss. We come to an entryway that is obviously not a part of the original
construction. It's been pieced together with steel beams and heavy wooden cross
ties, forming a type of door, or more accurately, a barrier like what you might
expect to see at a castle.

The preacher pauses outside and hesitates. “I need to
clear it with my group before you come in.” He looks like he thinks we'll
protest, but I nod. Ming stays silent beside me.

“Okay, then.” He bangs on the door, the deep clanging
resonating through the empty hallway behind us. The door creaks open slowly.
There's darkness beyond, and a face appears in the darkness. I see fear in the
man’s eyes, but the preacher speaks before the other man can.

“It's okay, Mark,” Andrew says.

The man cracks the door a little wider and the preacher
moves inside, shutting it behind him. There's a massive clunk as some type of
locking device is activated. If I wasn't hurting so badly I'd be tempted to
laugh. If he
is
trying to get away from us, he's been completely
successful, although he left Scott behind, but after a minute, the door opens
again, and Mark and the preacher motion us inside.

We move past the door into the darkness beyond, and
Mark re-engages the lock we heard before. At first, I think we're in total
darkness, but several feet ahead, I can now make out thin lines of light
outlining another double doorway. The preacher moves forward and pushes against
one side and the light that before was nothing more than slim lines, floods the
makeshift foyer we're in. Beyond, several people mill about. They give us
wary looks as we enter.

A long corridor spreads out before us ending in the
distance in what appears to have once been a large waiting room, now retrofitted
into what I assume is a commons area. The preacher leads us down the corridor,
muttering words to a few of the others not to worry about our presence as we
pass.

Old patient rooms line the hallway, many with their
doors open, each one no longer looking like a hospital room, but rather small
apartments with twin beds, couches, even some old televisions. It's a tight
fit, but they look homey enough, each decorated differently. Some of the
occupants look up at us suspiciously as we pass, but otherwise say or do
nothing.

We arrive at the commons area. Another hallway
breaks off to the left. The preacher walks up to a red-haired woman with an
abundance of freckles who looks to be in her fifties. She’s in a worn
recliner, her legs crossed under her, a book open in her lap.

He speaks quietly to her for half a minute then
turns. “This is Haley. If you’ll go with her, she’ll tend to your
wounds.”

Haley rises from her chair with a kind smile, sets the
book on the chair – The Two Towers – and shoos me down the second hallway in a
motherly fashion. I peer back at Ming who still stands in the commons.

She gives me a knowing look and a small nod to let me
know she'll be okay.

“What's your name?” the redhead asks as she leads me
along.

“I'm Cray. The young lady is Ming. And you're Haley.”

“Guilty as charged,” she smiles.

“Your people seem to be very trusting,” I say. “I
confess I'm a little shocked that they've let us into their little community on
our word alone.”

“Andrew's a pretty good judge of character. He sort of
has a sixth sense about people. If he thought you guys were dangerous, he would
never have brought you here.”

She leads me to a room on the right. When I enter, I
take in the generous stash of medical supplies stored on shelves lining the
walls, a long bed in the middle of the room underneath a large light that looks
like one you'd see in an operating room.

“Why don't you lie down there?” Haley says.

“Do you know what you're doing?” I say.

She squints at me. “I know more than whoever tried to
seal you up with a blowtorch.”

I raise an eyebrow.

“Don't worry,” she says as I lie down on the bed, my
body seeming to hurt all over at once. “My full name is
Doctor
Haley
Benson,” she says, emphasizing the word doctor. “I was chief surgeon here way
back in the day before The Virus. I spent a long time in the city after that,
just trying to survive like everybody else. Eventually I made my way back with
Andrew and some others, and we made our own society here.”

She pulls out a vial of some liquid and inserts a
needle. I have no intention of losing consciousness in the midst of a group of
strangers living all alone out here in the wild, but she quickly reassures me.

“This is just lidocaine,” she says. “Local anesthetic
so I can clean the wound and try to fix you up.” She sticks the needle into my
shoulder near the entrance wound and I immediately begin to feel some relief
from the gnawing pain.

“Thank you,” I sigh.

“You're welcome,” she says. “So who shot you?”

I give her a questioning look.

“Come on Cray. You think as head of surgery I've never
seen a bullet wound before?”

She works a little while on my shoulder before speaking
again.

“So scavenging, huh? Must be dangerous work.”

“It can be,” I say warily, unsure what she's getting
at. There's something doubting in her tone. “Dangerous enough to get shot.”

She looks pointedly down at my exposed torso and I
realize what she's talking about. Oh yeah. Forgot about those.

“You've got more scars than clear skin,” she says. “It
doesn't add up. You've got a bullet wound tonight, but most of your scars bear
the resemblance of gashes, tears, and
bites
.” She emphasizes the last
word.

I don't say anything for a while and finally decide not
to try to dodge the obvious.

“Like you said, Doc, you know your wounds.”

She doesn't say anything else for several minutes. But
I thank God for some real medical treatment. Although Ming was
well-intentioned, her idea of a field hospital repair job left plenty to be
desired.

When Haley speaks again, she's kind, but blunt.

“We stay under the radar out here, Cray, but we're not
criminals. We abide by the rules of the land. We try to help those in need if
the opportunity arises. You don't have to tell me who you really are or what
you really do, but I need to know one thing. Are we in danger by your being
here?”

I start to lie, but these people have treated us with
nothing but kindness so far.

“I don't think so. Not from us anyway,” I say,
“but the sooner we can get going, the better. The last thing I want is to put
you in harm's way.”

She seems to be satisfied with that, and I figure with
her, a little honesty goes a long way.

“I need you to trust me,” she says. “I need to do some
extensive work, and I want to put you out. If it would make you feel better,
I'll find your friend and she can sit in.”

I'm tempted, but I decide Ming will be keeping an eye
out for me anyway, and I don't think Haley means me any harm. I surrender to my
own judgment.

“I trust you. Do what you have to.”

Haley smiles and nods and goes to prepare whatever it
is she's going to knock me out with. When she returns, she begins an
intravenous line. She inserts something into the line and gives me one more
smile as she leans over me.

She says, “Don't worry. I'll take good care of you. See
you soon.”

I don't even recognize my awareness slipping away.

I wake to the sound of Buster whining.

I rub my sleepy eyes and lie there for a moment, trying
to gain my bearings. I was sleeping hard, and the heaviness hangs
on. Little by little, I come more fully awake and sit up, placing a small
hand on my dog’s back.

“What’s wrong boy?” I say. He’s usually one to
sleep through the night, always in the same spot, curled against my feet.
“Are you okay?”

My lab, Cara, died a few months back, and mom got
Buster for me from the pound. An imposing German shepherd, he never
leaves my side.

He whines a little louder, a plaintive sound, and for
the first time I notice something else. There are sounds coming from
outside of the apartment. Not the usual sounds of nighttime traffic or
the hustle and bustle of the city that never sleeps. Sirens sound off in
the distance, and I’m starting to hear shouts and yelling as well. From
somewhere nearby, someone screams a horrible, bloodcurdling scream, unlike
anything I’ve ever heard before. It’s a long, agonized scream, and it
seems to penetrate to my bones causing me to cringe involuntarily.

Buster is standing at the end of the bed now, his thick
fur bristling along his neck and spine. I’m about to move, to get up and
run to my mom’s room to find out what’s happening, when a dark shape moves into
my doorway.

“Mom, what’s going on?” I say, my voice panicked and
strained.

I can’t see her face – only her silhouette in the
darkness. She doesn’t move other than to cock her head sideways.
She probably doesn’t know what to make of it all either.

I’m suddenly aware of a rumbling sound. At first
I don’t know where it’s coming from, but it grows quickly louder, and I realize
Buster has jumped down from the bed and stands between me and my mom. His
lips roll back and his white teeth glint as the rumbling becomes a full-blown,
vicious growl.

I’m shocked and feel an instant irritation. He’s
never acted that way before. “Stop it, boy!” I say. “It’s
just mom. Stop it!” But he doesn’t, and even in the darkness, I can
see the malevolence in his gaze. Any second he’s going to pounce on
mom. I’m overcome with terror. I want to run to my mom, to stand
between her and the dog, but I can’t move. I’m petrified that Buster will
turn on me. He’s large, even for his breed, ninety-five pounds of muscle
and strength that could do serious damage if he wanted to.

Dad! Where’s dad?
We need you!
The dog’s going crazy! He’s going to hurt mom!
I want to
scream out for him, but I don’t want to spook Buster into attacking, so instead
I speak softly.

“Buster. It’s okay buddy. Buster?”

Mom still hasn’t said anything or moved. She
probably thinks any movement will trigger an attack. I don’t know what to
do! I’m frozen with indecisiveness.

A light comes on from somewhere behind mom and I hear
dad call out for her from the living room. Her face is still in shadow,
but I can see her expression now, and it’s anything but fear. Her eyes
move from me to Buster and back again, her nostrils are flared, a maddened
expression in her eyes. Like Buster, her lips are curled back in a snarl
and her tongue darts in and out of her mouth like a snake. There’s
something horrible and non-human about her appearance and I scream as she
suddenly lunges for Buster.

Their bodies collide in a flash of arms and teeth, mom
roaring like an animal, Buster growling and thrashing and trying to gain
purchase with his jaws. He twists and sinks his teeth into mom’s thigh,
but mom raises both arms high and brings them down with incredible force onto
Buster’s back. There’s a sickening crunch and Buster cries out, releasing
his grip. He collapses and writhes awkwardly, still trying to get a grip
with his fangs. But mom grips his head and wrenches it violently, and Buster
stops moving.

I’m still screaming, hot tears blurring my vision, as
mom rises from the floor, her leg mangled and dripping blood.

“Mommy…!” Is all I can manage to say before she leaps
through the air and lands on me, shrieking like a demon. I try
desperately to push her off, but she claws at my face and arms trying to pin me
down.

Mom manages to pin my hands and sinks her teeth into my
left shoulder. It explodes in pain, and I feel the muscles underneath my
skin tearing. I cry out in newfound agony and strain against her.
From pure adrenalin, I’m able to push her up and away, her teeth still snapping
madly for me. My arms are already weakening, though, and her mouth gets
closer and closer to my face. In that moment, time seems to freeze.

I look deeply into the dark brown eyes that have always
shined with pride and love for me, at the soft cheeks that have nuzzled my face
when I had a bad dream, and somehow I just know. I don’t know how I know
it, but the beautiful woman that had been my Mom is gone, replaced by something
evil and detestable.

Suddenly I experience a pain worse than anything that
has come before, and it takes a moment for me to realize this pain isn’t
physical. It’s the heart-rending realization that the person you care
most about in the world is gone forever. Something inside me wants to
give up, to let go and allow her to kill me, to be rid of this torment, to not
have to live a life without her. And yet, there is another part of me
that refuses to surrender. It’s something primal and instinctual and
determined not to give in.

But then things speed up again, and Mom is ripped away
from me as my dad grabs her from behind and slings her back towards the
door. She stumbles, but regains her balance and launches herself at dad,
bellowing with rage. Her fingernails dig ferociously at his face as he
tries to push her off of himself, and blood pours into his eyes blinding him.

He’s pleading, begging, trying to get some intelligent
response from her, but I know the truth. I slip from my bed, my shoulder
aching, my face on fire from hot tears, and I grab my baseball bat from the
corner. Dad can’t hold her off much longer. I step over Buster’s
broken, lifeless body, steel myself, and swing the bat. It collides with
my mommy’s head – once, twice, three times, until she falls limply and lies
still, her shattered skull hemorrhaging blood onto the floor and onto my bare
toes.

The bat falls from my hands and a tortured sob escapes
me.

Dad sits up and wipes his eyes free of blood. He
sees my mom’s battered, unmoving body. There’s a few seconds of pregnant
silence, then he begins to wail. All at once, I collapse to the floor and
join him, our cries joining into an eerie harmony of desolation.

I lie in bed thinking about Mira and the current irony
of my situation. If I didn't have to spend so darn much time healing, I might
actually be able to accomplish something helpful.

Ming came by earlier. Haley was with her. I was not
happy when they told me how long I had been out. Actually, I was livid.

Haley had kept me under heavy sedation for six days,
and Ming had given the thumbs up for it. After I got over a heavy bout of
profanity, Ming told me I could shove it. According to her, we couldn't help
Mira or anybody else if I was dead and I needed time to recover. I couldn't
argue with her logic. She wouldn't even know how to reach them without me. I
finally, grudgingly accepted what had happened. After all, it was too late to
change it. I just hoped Mira was still safe for the time being.

After Haley checked me over and left, Ming told me all
about the place and the people. Andrew, the preacher, was a country minister
before The Virus. He had pastored a small congregation. He’d had and
wife and kids. All of that was destroyed. Like so many others, he was moved
into Chicago by the government to be kept safe.

He'd spent several years there in mourning for his
family until he decided it was time to start again on his “mission”, as he
called it. He began to rebuild a small flock of believers that met in his
apartment regularly. Over time, the group grew to around thirty members,
including Haley. They were of the Christian faith, and decided to create their
own micro-society. The hospital was actually Haley's idea. She knew it well
from her days as an employee here, and they began making plans to turn at least
part of it into a new home for their group.

One of the things that made it ideal was the fact that
the hospital had big ambitions for green energy back in the day. As a result,
they had erected enormous solar radiation panels on various portions of the
roof. They weren’t remotely enough to power the entire hospital, but it was a
way to support the environmental trend of the times.

Fortunately, one of their group was a skilled
electrician, and he was able to re-route the power supply to this wing of the
facility. As long as they were conservative with their usage, they pretty much
had full-time power to this area.

They had treated Ming well over the past six days,
feeding her, providing a private room for sleeping. But it was her last
revelation that rocked me to the core. Something Andrew had shown her the
second day. Something that could change the entire playing field of the world
we know.