Havoc by Shannon McKenna
16
It was a long, exhausting morning. The story had to be retold to a suspicious Chief Bristol. Telling him how she’d made her way by foot up to GodsAcre earned her a long and tedious lecture about risk, trespassing, closed roads, how she needed to go through proper channels, etc., etc.
All true. No arguments there. She was in the wrong. Pure madness.
Mace stood by her the whole time. She showed the chief the journal, the tracker, the lab notes. Mace held her hand under the table, or her knee, if she was writing.
“Do not go back up there,” Bristol told her for the umpteenth time. “People who go up there tend to die, and I don’t want any more corpses on my watch.”
“If the Trasks’ working hypothesis holds true, then I’m not vulnerable to the Prophet’s curse,” she reminded him. “I wasn’t here fourteen years ago.”
“Screw their working hypothesis,” Bristol snapped. “You can still be shot, stabbed, or clubbed to death, and I for one am not convinced of this sci-fi supervillain nonsense.”
“Of course. And now, if you’ll excuse me, I’d like to take a look at those articles
“Go ahead,” Bristol said, with bad grace. “Just for God’s sake, don’t encourage those Trasks in their crazy conspiracy theories. They keep me on the jump as it is.”
“Just the facts, I promise,” Cait assured him. “The scientific method is my guide. I’m a scientist. A seeker of objective, verifiable truth. Not wild fantasy.”
“Fine.” Bristol gathered up the report she’d filled out. “Seek all the truth you want, young lady, but for the love of God, if you find any, share it with me in a timely fashion, understand? Because I am fresh out of patience and understanding.”
“I understand,” Cait said.
“Me, too,” Mace echoed.
“You, just shut up,” Chief Bristol said sharply. “I am up to here with your shit.”
“I wasn’t being sarcastic, Chief,” Mace told him.
Bristol stomped out without further comment. Anton turned an exasperated look on his brother. “You should’ve called him in last night. I’ve never seen him this angry.”
“Not a chance,” Mace said. “I won’t let Kimball’s goons anywhere near the chief. They’d kill him in a heartbeat, and I wouldn’t be able to defend him, no matter how fast I moved. Same with the other cops. Kimball would cut them down to spite us. The less Kimball thinks about the local people, the better. Let them focus on us. If the chief hates my guts, so be it. At least he’ll be alive to spit bile at me. That’s how I like him.”
“You’re trying to protect him?” Cait asked.
Mace shrugged, uncomfortable. “Insofar as I can, yeah, I guess. We try to keep the locals out of this. Anyone who could’ve been compromised by this virus fourteen years ago can’t be part of this fight.”
“Right,” Eric said grimly. “Like my wife.”
Cait sucked in a breath. “Oh, shit,” she said. “She’s from here. So she…”
“Exactly. Of our group, she’s the only one who’s vulnerable,” Mace said. “It drives Eric nuts. Elisa and Nate come from the outside, so they’re in the clear. Fiona, Anton, Eric and I all got injected at GodsAcre, with what I assume was a vaccine—”
“You can’t be sure of that,” Demi called out from the kitchen. “You base that assumption on a single encounter when the death pen didn’t work on Eric. You’re all just guessing, and it pisses me off.”
“Wouldn’t Demi be safer somewhere else?” Cait asked. “Out of sight, out of mind, right? Since he’s so focused on GodsAcre, and whatever is buried up there.”
“I agree wholeheartedly.” Eric’s voice was clear and carrying. “Unfortunately, one of the symptoms of being exposed to this virus is pigheaded stubbornness, evidently.”
“You’re a fine one to talk.” Demi marched out, wiping her wet hands on her jeans. “I’ve spent my whole life with my dad and granddad frog-marching me around, making my decisions for me. I’ll be damned if I’ll let Kimball do it, too.”
“I’m not saying you can never run the Corner Café again,” Eric said.
“I won’t let another person dictate to me. Not even you, no matter how much I’m in love with you. The answer is no.”
There was a tense, silent moment.
“Sorry I ripped the lid off this,” Cait said. “I shouldn’t have said anything.”
“It’s always in the air,” Mace said. “And it’s been worse since we got the news.”
“What news is that?”
Demi touched her belly. “Three months along. We have got to end this. There has to be something on the other side. Where we can just breathe, and live. And raise our kid.”
Cait nodded, speechless. Her eyes prickled with startled tears.
Fiona pull the laptop toward herself on the coffee table, and typed in the password. “Here,” she said. “Now you’re inside the portal. It’s just a cache of scientific articles. I’ve read them all, but I understood about a tenth of it.”
“Thanks,” Cait said, scanning the titles and authors. “I recognize some of these names. And the virus. MLB-2C-15. That was the stolen virus.”
“I see,” Mace said. “Whose names do you recognize?”
“They’re all people who worked with my dad, at Severus Biological Industries,” she said. “But most of them are gone now.” She scanned the other articles. “Actually, it looks like all of them are gone.”
“Gone in what way?” Mace asked.
“Gone as in, gone from this world,” Cait said. “This one here, about the replication of obligate intracellular parasites, has Sondra Salazar as the main author. She worked with my dad. She ran her car off the road.”
“How long ago?” Mace asked.
“I think it was the first year after Dad disappeared, but I’m not sure. Everything was a blur for a while after that, for me and Mom. Then there was this guy, Richard Holland, who wrote this one about the release of progeny virons. They found him dead on his kitchen floor a few months after Sondra died. This one, Certain Frequencies of Electromagnetic Radiation a Potential Stimuli Triggering Instantaneous Reactivation of MLB-2C-15 from Latent to Catastrophic Lytic Phase. This was written by my dad and Kirill, but never published. Because after the lab thefts, Dad scrubbed all his research data from the labs, afraid of it getting into the wrong hands. Then Dad vanished, and Kirill couldn’t find it. I remember him begging Mom to let him look through the house, in case Dad had hidden it there. He was beside himself. Years of work, just gone.”
“What happened to Kirill?” Mace asked. “Another freak accident?”
“Sort of,” she said. “A short illness. It put him in a coma. He died not much later.”
“And no one ever suspected these deaths weren’t accidental?”
“If they did, they didn’t tell me. I was just a teenager.” She dabbed at her eyes with a napkin. “It’s strange, to see his name here. I thought I’d forgotten what Dad’s voice sounded like, but when I read the first paragraph, I heard his voice in my head.”
Mace slid his arm around her shoulders and squeezed. His warmth felt good. She mopped her face up, took a fortifying swallow of her coffee, and dove into the articles.
She dove deep. So deep, the sounds of people going about their day in Demi’s house faded far into the background, and then disappeared. Mace hovered at the edge of her consciousness, refilling her coffee cup, sliding a plate of cookies near her hand. At some point, he tried to get her to stop and eat lunch. She waved him away.
A sandwich appeared on a plate next to her. She took a few bites without tasting them, and pressed on.
Hours later, Mace sat down next to her and tugged at a lock of her hair. “Hey,” he said gently. “Any news from out there in orbit?”
Cait tried to remember how to talk. “Yes.” Her voice was scratchy. “None of it good.”
Mace shrugged. “Yeah, well. We never figured that it would be.”
As Cait became aware of her body again, a detail came to her attention. “I need a bathroom,” she said. “Excuse me.”
Cait went upstairs to the bathroom, trying not to stumble. It had been a while since she’d concentrated so hard. She hadn’t gone that deep since Mom got sick. She’d done it often when she was a kid, losing herself in whatever interested her, and she’d forget to eat, drink, or pee for hours at a time. Her mom had worried, but Dad had reassured her that he’d done the exact same thing as a kid, and that he’d scared his mother, too.
She looked at herself in the mirror as she washed her hands, noticing that the concealer had worn off. The marks from last night’s adventure showed beneath her reddened eyes, which burned from sleeplessness, and a day of staring at a screen.
Well, screw it. She splashed her face a little, washing off most of what was left of the concealer. Wowing him with a sexy outfit and red lipstick would have to wait.
After all, he hadn’t seemed to need much extra stimulation last night.
When she came downstairs everyone was standing there, waiting. She stopped halfway down, taken aback. “Something I should know?”
“You’ve been staring at the computer for hours,” Anton said. “Could we get a takeaway?”
“You’re not going to like it,” she told them.
“Wow, what a shocker,” Eric muttered. “Come on into the living room.”
Minutes later, Mace’s family was arrayed before her, looking expectant.
“I read through every article and I correlated the info with my dad’s lab notes,” she said. “The virus that was taken from my dad’s lab, MLB-2C-15, seems to be the one described in those articles. In Dad’s notes, he mentions an asymptomatic virus that showed up in Asia. It didn’t seem menacing, and it didn’t survive long out of the body. Then, a group of researchers at a lab in India were exposed to electromagnetic radiation from a malfunctioning machine, and they died instantly. Eventually they figured out that the researchers had been previously exposed to that virus, and that the radiation had caused a catastrophic proliferation of toxins inside of their vital organs.”
“Sounds like the Prophet’s curse,” Eric said.
“Kimball must have spread the virus here, in Shaw’s Crossing. Maybe as a test run. And he developed a way to weaponize people’s vulnerability to the frequency.”
“And then he played with it,” Demi said through her teeth. “Like a kid with a toy.”
“Exactly,” Cait said. “But that’s not even the worst news.”
Fiona’s dark eyebrows tilted up. “There’s more?”
“It mutated,” she said. “These were the notes that Dad didn’t want anyone to find, but Kimball must have known about it. The mutated virus was very similar to MLB-2C-15, but airborne, not waterborne, far more contagious, and more robust outside the body. It was MLB-2C-18,and it wouldn’t stay put in Shaw’s Crossing like MLB-2C-15 did. It would spread fast, and cause the same vulnerability to the death pen, but no one would raise the alarm, or scramble to make a vaccine, because no one would know they had it.”
“Until Kimball came along with his death pen, and started picking off anyone he felt like killing,” Elisa said.
“The whole world would be subject to the Prophet’s curse,” Fiona said. “That’s been Kimball’s end game all along. He gets to be the Grim Reaper. His ultimate fantasy.”
“He could kill right through walls,” Fiona said. “And sell it to anyone he wanted.”
“Sounds like a clusterfuck on a global scale,” Anton said.
“You think what’s buried up at GodsAcre is the second virus?” Eric said.
Cait nodded.
“He can’t afford to dig for it like he was doing before Otis discovered him,” Anton said. “He needs a shortcut.” He looked over at her, his eyes speculative. “He’d do anything to get his claws into you and your info.”
Cait shuddered, involuntarily, and Mace’s arm tightened. “Don’t worry. I won’t let him hurt you.”
She shot him a wry glance. “That’s a lovely thought, and maybe you’re one of the few people in the world who might be able to live up to it, but none of us are safe.”
“That’s for damn sure,” Eric said. “It’s clear, what we have to do.”
“And that is?” Demi asked, her voice tense.
“We go up with Cait’s tracer, and find the fucking thing. Kimball can’t have it.”
“You’re kidding, right?” The pitch of Demi’s voice climbed. “Do you remember the last time we went up there? When Anton and Fi were up there? Do you remember what those armed drones did to Elisa’s dad’s house? The place was torn to shreds. Every single time, we barely got away with our lives! I want my kid to have a father!”
“And I want our kid to have a future!” Eric yelled back.
“We’ll be super discreet, Demi,” Mace said soothingly. “He’ll never see us coming or going. We’ll use my tunnel. No need to worry.”
“Hah! That fucking tunnel could collapse at any moment! And it’s one thing to have scores of people with cops and scientists digging around up there but it’s completely another to have just you guys, sneaking around all alone, inviting Kimball to kill you. And even if you’re right, and they can’t use the death pen on you, they can still shoot you!”
“They won’t see us,” Eric argued. “Mace used the tunnel yesterday. He’s fine.”
“That means nothing! It could fall down at any time!”
“We have to try.” Eric’s voice was resolute. “We’re going up.”
“There is another possibility,” Mace said.
“What?” Cait asked.
“We let Kimball think that we found the virus,” Mace said. “We lure him into the cave to stop us.” He pulled out the pendant that hung around his neck. “And we blow him the fuck up with my explosives. We bury him and his virus forever. End of story.”
“No!” Cait burst out.
All heads swiveled toward her, their eyes startled. “No?” Eric asked. “Why not?”
Cait struggled for the words. “I fought so hard to get this far.” Her voice shook with emotion. “The trace buried in that cave is the only clue I ever got about what happened to my dad. You want to bury it before I even see what the hell it is?”
The others all looked at each other. “Ah…I thought we had a pretty clear consensus of what it is,” Anton said. “It’s the mutated virus, right?”
“You won’t find your father down there, Cait,” Fi said, her voice unusually gentle.
“I know that,” Cait snapped. “I’m not stupid. I just need to know what happened to him. Please, don’t blow it up. Not yet. Besides, the safest place for that virus is back in the lab where it can be safely contained.”
Mace grunted. “Yeah, right. Like it was safely contained before?”
“Let’s at least look around up there first,” Cait said. “Please.”
Demi covered her face with her hands. “There’s just no end to it.”
“Not until we make one,” Eric said.
Demi stalked out of the room. Eric looked miserable, but resolute.
“Let’s go tomorrow,” Mace said. “The rain stopped, and it’s supposed to be clear tonight. We’ll go up and through the tunnel. The four of us. You, me, Anton and Nate.”
“And me. You need me,” Cait said. “I’m the one with the tracking device.”
“Let us take it up there, Cait,” he urged. “It’s too dangerous. Stay where we know that you’re safe. Let us take the lead. We know that place much better than you do.”
“I need to be there,” Cait repeated, silently willing him not to bully her about this. They could, if they wanted to. She was outnumbered by far. But still. Please. Don’t.
Mace looked frustrated. “For God’s sake. You saw those guys. You’re already covered with bruises. Stay here, so I can do this without worrying about you.”
“I’m not trying to be difficult, but this is what I came to do. I have to see it through.”
“Me, too,” Fiona announced. “I’m coming with you.”
“What?” Anton snarled. “Why?”
“Same reason,” Fiona informed him. “I’ve got the same needle sticks as you boys, and plenty of combat training.”
Cait relaxed as that argument got into full swing, distracting everyone from her ultimatum. Fiona caught her eye, and winked.
Thanks, she mouthed.
Mace’s sharp eyes caught that interchange. “Thanks for nothing,” he said sourly.
“Then Nate stays here, with Demi and Elisa,” Eric said. “We’re bringing one vehicle.”
“My Wrangler is good for five,” Mace said.
“Fine. We leave before dawn.” He looked at Cait. “Don’t wear anything bright. That lavender coat is a hard no. We need to disappear.”
Fiona gave Cait an appraising look. “She could use Otis’s birdwatching coat,” she said. “It’s forest camo. It’ll be big, but it should work.”
“I have olive drab hiking pants,” Cait said. “And the mud on my shoes covers the pink and purple.”
Eric looked around the house. “Where did Demi go?”
“Back to the restaurant,” Fiona said. “She texted me. Clint drove her.”
Eric made an exasperated sound. “What the fuck does she expect us to do? She’s the one who refuses to leave!”
The light in the sky was fading as Anton fired up a barbecue out on the back porch, and threw some impressive chunks of meat onto the grill. The fridge was packed with leftovers, all the work of a talented chef. Fresh, blanched and roasted vegetables of all kinds, dressed with lemon and herbs. A veggie tart with a buttery crust, stuffed with red peppers and crumbled goat cheese. A fabulous potato salad. Crusty fresh bread.
The prospect of going up to the cavern again was so different, now that she had information, help, collaboration. People who were personally invested. Mace had made this possible. And he kept on looking at her like he couldn’t believe she was quite real.
But she felt so real. For the first time in so long, after all the pain of mom’s slow decline and death, she wasn’t feeling numb, or running from the way she felt.
She felt intensely alive. Food smelled and tasted great, colors were so bright. And Mace was hovering over her. Filling her wine glass, squeezing her leg. Giving her that hot glance that made her belly flutter with delicious anticipation.
They cleared the dinner plates, and people got busy cleaning up the kitchen.
“Get an early night, everyone,” Eric said, giving Mace a meaningful glance. “We move out at four-thirty. I’m heading over to the restaurant to bring Demi home.”
“Good luck with that,” Mace murmured.
Eric gave him a dirty look and stomped out, and it was just the two of them.
Mace squeezed her hand. “There’s a thing I wanted to tell you,” he told her. “Last night was incredible, but it’s not like I have, you know…expectations. You’re more than welcome upstairs, in my bed, and I would be fucking over the moon to have you there. But you’re also free to stay in Demi’s guestroom, if you’d prefer privacy. It’s up to you.”
She looked him up and down, hungrily. “What a waste of an early night.”
“Couldn’t agree more,” he said fervently. “I just wanted to give you options.”
“Ah, yes. Speaking of options,” she said. “After all of this is sorted out, let’s go out furniture shopping. I’ll help you pick out a dining set.”
Mace’s grin was huge. “You’d help me choose some furniture?”
“I have excellent taste,” she assured him. “I prefer to sleep in the bed of the man who jumped me in a dark cave. From this, you can deduce that my judgment is stellar.”
“You’re perfect for me,” he said.
“Oh yeah?” she teased. “How do you figure that?”
“Well, hell, I can’t be with just anyone. Sooner or later, I always spook them. If they really get to know me, my past is too scary. My scars, the GodsAcre cult thing, the Prophet, the fire. I never thought I’d find someone brave and tough like you. Someone willing to get out there onto that ledge with me. It’s not a comfortable place to be.”
“No, it’s not, but I have my own ledges,” she said.
“Who knows,” he said. “Maybe you and I can yank something special out of the jaws of death. How crazy would that be?”
“Very,” she told him. “Let’s take it a minute at a time.”
Fiona met them at the communicating door, a bulky, forest camo coat in her arms.
“This was Otis’s birdwatching coat,” she said. “And a hat to go with it. We’ll creep up there like ghosts tomorrow.”
“That place has too many ghosts already,” Mace said.
Cait followed him up the stairs, thinking about ghosts, and her lost father.
It was childish, to half-hope that her father was somehow up there, haunting that tormented place. But part of her actually wanted him to be. Egging her on, wishing her well. If he hadn’t died, he would’ve come home to them. But if his ghost was lingering there, well, damn, at least she’d have a friend in that place. Someone who was on her side.
Though Mace was a powerful friend.
She wondered if Dad’s spirit would be glad she was seeking justice for him. If in any way, on any level, he still cared about that. She just wished she could offer him more.
Justice was a cold, meager prize to put against everything that they had lost.