Authors: Jamie Freveletti
The Ninth Day (29 page)
The hale bale continued to burn, the flames spreading.
“That’s what the disease does,” Emma said. Her voice broke on the word “does.”
“Let’s get out of here. The propane tank’s going to blow,” Vanderlock said.
Emma rose slowly. Raoul kept the gun pointed in a straight-arm stance right at Oz’s head. Raoul’s arm, too, was covered in sores, but they hadn’t yet reached his face.
“You see this?” Raoul yelled. “You come back here, now, or I shoot him.”
Emma felt rage burble up in her. “You kill him, I’ll never cure you! You’ll die, too, you understand?”
“Screw your cure! It doesn’t matter. La Valle will kill me if I don’t bring you back.”
“Let’s go, the tank’s going to blow.” For the first time Emma heard stress in Vanderlock’s voice.
Raoul swung his arm down and shot at the ground near Oz’s feet. Oz jerked, but kept his head lowered, as if he didn’t care.
“Let’s move, now!” Vanderlock said.
“That’s Oz. I won’t let them kill him,” Emma said.
Vanderlock stepped next to her. “Look at him. Poor bastard would probably rather be dead. The tank is going to blow.”
“Give me the gun,” Emma said.
“They’re out of range,
let’s go
,” Vanderlock said.
The hay bale flames licked up four feet. They had completed an entire circuit around the propane tank.
“Give me the gun,” Emma said again.
“Here.” Vanderlock shoved the weapon at her. “Now move!”
Emma snatched the pistol. Vanderlock grabbed her arm and started to pull her back with him to the car. She jerked out of his grasp and broke into a run, heading straight for Oz. She heard Vanderlock yell her name, but she kept going, closing the distance between them. She ran, arms pumping, the gun flashing in front of her as the light hit it.
One hundred yards in, the tank behind her blew.
Emma felt a flash of heat and she dove to the dirt, covering her head with her arms. Smoke and fire boiled into the sky, some of it billowing around her. She looked up and saw Raoul stagger back a few steps, shock on his face as he watched the conflagration. Even Oz looked skyward. She flattened on the ground, aimed, and squeezed off a shot. The bullet entered Raoul at the right shoulder, and he screamed incoherently, hunching over in reaction. She turned her attention to Mono, but he was already on the move. He leaped behind the BMW’s open driver’s-side door. Oz turned his head to look, but stayed immobile. He seemed riveted in place. Raoul put his left hand over the wound and raised the gun in his right.
“Damn it Oz, move!” she yelled. Emma shot Raoul again, this time grazing his right arm. The second shot galvanized Oz into action. He ran at an angle, heading for the field. He took a giant leap from the road into the plants, disappearing inside the foliage.
Emma was up and running parallel to Oz, heading to the field. Shots peppered the ground near her feet, she assumed from Mono, but she didn’t waste the time looking for the source. She flew, her arms and legs moving in rhythm. She plunged down a small culvert between the field and the road, preparing to plunge into the rows of wheat standing all around her. Off to her left came the noise of the combine, growing louder. It appeared at the end of a row, and stopped. The engine rumbled, but the wheels no longer turned. A man’s face appeared in the cab’s window.
“Hey, what the hell are you doing there? I could have killed you! Did you set that fire?” He pointed at the smoke from the propane fire. “Get off my property.”
The farmer’s voice was loaded with fear and anger. He stepped out of the tractor and stared down at her. He wore jeans and a dark tee shirt and stood half in and half out of the cab, with one booted foot on the step. Emma rose. The farmer glanced at the gun in her hand. “Why’re you carrying a gun?”
Before she could answer, a shot rang out. The farmer’s body was flung backward, and he tumbled down the side of the combine, landing somewhere in the foliage below.
Emma spun and ran back the way she came, moving onto the asphalt toward the still burning propane. She saw the Caliber on the far side of the bonfire, still in the middle of the road facing her. She sprinted toward it, keeping her eyes on it and trying not to look back for her attackers. When she neared the car, Vanderlock pushed open the door.
“Get in!”
She jumped into the car and pulled up her legs. Vanderlock was turning the car in a circle before she could even close the door, and it swung wide with the turn. She managed to get it closed when he straightened out to shoot down the road.
“Have you seen Oz?” she said.
“Why is it that every time I’m around you something is exploding?”
She turned to see Oz, his face and arms a bleeding mass of sores, lying on the backseat.
“E
mma Caldridge shot a farmer working his fields. He came upon her by surprise.”
Banner sat in a hotel room in Kansas City, participating in a conference call with Sumner in Oklahoma and Wiley in Nebraska.
“Is he dead?” Sumner asked.
Sheriff Wiley coughed. “No. Bullet missed any major arteries. He’s up and talking.”
“He say why she shot him?” Banner said.
“He says she was crouching in his field, a gun in her hand. Claims he damn near ran her over with his tractor. He told her to get off his property, and the next thing he knew he was waking up in the hospital.”
“Any idea where she is now?” Banner said.
“Nope. We’re still looking for the black SUV she used at the pharmaceutical company. No luck. We’ll keep you posted. But I gotta tell you, she gets picked up, ain’t nothing you can do. She’s going to get charged.”
Banner knew this as well. “I hear you, Sheriff. Just do me a favor and continue to give her the benefit of the doubt.”
“I’ll give it to her, but the FBI won’t. It’s their investigation now, and they want her bad. She’s considered armed and dangerous.”
Sheriff Wiley rang off and the speaker phone remained quiet so long that Banner thought Sumner had hung up as well. He started when Sumner’s voice came over the line.
“I don’t believe it. What was she doing crouching in a field?”
Banner sighed. “I have no idea. But we’ve got another problem. The first responders on the Black Eagles scene have contracted some sort of strange rash. Nothing as dramatic as what we saw at the plane, but we’re all going on the assumption that it’s related, somehow.”
“Is the CDC on it?”
Banner nodded, even though he knew that Sumner couldn’t see him. “They are, and still chasing a possible anthrax connection or Ebola-type virus. So far, nothing. They’re running a series of tests to rule out everything from poison ivy to virulent measles. We should know something in twenty-four hours. You have any symptoms?” The phone fell quiet again as Sumner didn’t answer. Banner closed his eyes briefly. He didn’t want to hear what he now thought he might.
“I have a rash forming on my left hand.”
Banner exhaled slowly. “You’ll need to come in. The CDC is placing anyone with symptoms into quarantine. They can’t tell if it’s infectious yet.”
“I can’t afford to be in quarantine. I need to find her. Now more than ever.”
“It’s not a matter of what you can afford, it’s a matter of public health. You need to report in.” The lack of a response told Banner all he needed to know. Sumner wouldn’t be coming in anytime soon. He tried a different tack. “You, of all people, should do the right thing and report in. You’re a member of the ATD, for God’s sake.”
No response.
Banner threw out the one thing he thought would make Sumner agree. “I’ll make you a deal: if you come in I promise to drop everything, get Stromeyer back here, and the two of us will start to look for her. Now will you report in?”
“You told me Stromeyer’s in the Caribbean somewhere. How long will it take her to get back here?”
Banner wasn’t sure. Stromeyer wasn’t operating openly in the islands, and he didn’t have instant access to her, as she was maintaining phone silence. Nevertheless, he took a stab at it.
“Twenty-four hours, max.”
“Too long.”
“Listen to me—”
“—If it was Stromeyer out there, would you come in? Leave the investigation to others?”
The question caught Banner by surprise. His first thought was “Not on your life,” and he had to clamp his teeth together not to say it. He said what leaped to mind next.
“There’s a difference. Stromeyer is my business partner and whatever she would be doing would fall under Darkview business and I’d have to address it. Caldridge is not related to you or the ATD at all. Also, I know how skilled and resourceful Stromeyer is. She’d solve the situation on her own, or at least do her best to solve it, and she wouldn’t call on me unless she thought I could add something to the mix. I think Caldridge is the same. You should assume that if she’s not calling you that she doesn’t need you.”
Banner hated to say the harsh words, but it was true. Caldridge knew Sumner better than anyone else. She had access to him in a way that no one else did. She knew that Sumner would help her in a heartbeat if he could, and the silence from her end spoke volumes. What puzzled Banner is that Sumner knew this as well, yet he continued to place his own future at risk.
“Tell me the truth, here. What happened on that intercept flight? Why are you insisting on helping Caldridge when she hasn’t asked for it?”
“For the same reason you’d help Stromeyer.”
Banner knew when the game was up. “You’re right,” he conceded. “I would be the same. But I hope that if the situation were reversed you’d give me some good advice as well.”
“That you would ignore.” Sumner’s voice held a note of humor.
“Fair enough, but here’s some more. Stay out of the FBI’s way. They won’t appreciate it, and your jurisdiction is too thin to win that pissing contest. What are you planning on doing when you find Caldridge?”
“I plan on killing that cartel pilot.”
“Y
ou two shouldn’t be anywhere near me,” Oz said. Vanderlock kept his eyes on the road, a fact for which Emma was thankful, because he’d taken the Caliber up to ninety miles per hour. Luckily the rural county highway held few cars.
“We’ve already got it,” Vanderlock said.
Oz groaned. “What do you mean?”
“The shipment broke free in the plane. We’re definitely infected,” Emma said.
“Any sores?”
“No,” Emma replied.
“Yes,” Vanderlock said. He held out his right hand, where an angry sore had formed on the heel of his palm.
Emma sucked in her breath. For a moment she felt as though she’d lost her equilibrium. The blood rushed to her head and she thought she was going to faint. She took a deep breath, keeping her eyes on the road, doing her best to regain her composure.
“La Valle’s got a tracking device on this car. Can you disarm it?” Emma said to Oz.
“GPS or radio tracker?” Oz said.
“I think a cheap radio transmitter,” Vanderlock replied.
“Do you know where it is?” Oz said.
“Somewhere on the chassis.”
“I’ll have to find it first. That will take time.”
“We don’t have any time,” Vanderlock said. “Let’s just dump the car. It’s our quickest option.”
“How are your legs?” Emma said to Oz.
“I get weak pretty quickly. The sores don’t hurt, they’re just numb.”
“How’s Serena?”
Oz shook his head. “Serena’s dead. She died last night. La Valle went crazy.” A stream of blood came out of Oz’s nose. He pulled up his tee shirt and held it to his face to staunch the flow. “My nose just won’t stop bleeding.”
“Who’s Serena?” Vanderlock said. Emma sat back in the seat and faced forward. Serena being dead was a very, very bad development for all of them.
“La Valle’s girlfriend. She had the disease first. Now that she’s dead there’s no further reason to keep me—or you—alive.”
Vanderlock snorted. “I told you, unless I deliver the shipment I’ll be doomed anyway.”
“Let’s just get rid of this car and find a phone.”
Emma glanced back at Oz. He leaned against the side door, his legs stretched out on the seat. She found it was difficult to look at him, his face was so disfigured. His eyes, still lovely, gazed out from the mass. She smiled at him. He watched her for a moment, then a small smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. Maybe it was the best he could do, but Emma felt her throat constrict with tears at the small gesture. She turned away again.
Vanderlock switched on the radio and fiddled with the dials until finding an all-news show. The car hummed along.
“How are we on gas?” Emma said.
“Quarter of a tank. We need to find some.”
The radio announcer switched from discussing the price of cattle futures to reporting the news. He said, “Miami chemist Emma Caldridge and two other accomplices are suspected of yet another attack in the last twenty-four hours.” The reporter announced that she was implicated in the shooting of a local farmer and was armed and dangerous. They asked anyone having any information to contact the FBI and rattled off a phone number.