Dead Hunger III: The Chatsworth Chronicles (28 page)

I didn’t see the backhand coming.  Carville was both faster and stronger than I had expected.  I reeled backward and nearly into the two guards, who pushed me back to steady myself on my feet.

“I don’t tolerate defeat, Professor Chatsworth.  Now I suggest you eat something and get some sleep if you need it.  You have a lot of work to do.  When you’re ready I’ll introduce you to your assistants.”

I said nothing.  Carville waved at the two pseudo-soldiers, who led me away in the other direction. 

I was taken to another similar room on the same level.  Plexiglass room, no privacy.  Only scrubs and lab coats in the small wardrobe.  There was a small partition in front of the toilet, but the shower was exposed to passersby.

I was a caged animal once the door was closed and the key turned.

There were several bottles of water on the table next to the bed.  I picked one up and drained it.  They I lay on the bed and stared at the ceiling.

I thought of Charlie, and begged she wouldn’t come looking for me.

Carville didn’t need any more leverage.

****

I awoke at some point; I’m not sure when.  There were no clocks anywhere, and my wristwatch had been removed in the chopper.

The sterility of the rooms, both the laboratory and the cage, as well as my new home, was obvious and stark.  The thick, acrylic walls were perforated with holes so I could hear noises from the hallway, and vice-versa.

It might have been the sound of footsteps approaching that had awakened me.

I sat up and swung my legs over the edge of the comfortable bed, which was saying something, at least.  In those brief periods where I could actually fall asleep without my mind racing back to Charlie, Flex and Gem, the rest was quality.

When I turned around, the light from my room fell on the dark hallway, but the reflection was too great, and I saw nothing beyond the wall. 

Then the light switch was flipped, and I saw two familiar faces.

Rory
and
Pete
.  Smiling.

“Good morning, Professor Chatsworth,” said
Rory
.

I stared at them, unsure why I wasn’t more surprised.

“If you’re here, then he’s got the urushiol.  I don’t know what more I can offer.”

“A cure, is what he wants, and I t
hink you know that,” said
Pete
.  “Plus, I’m sure he’s gonna want you to make some more of that oil stuff.  Shit works great, by the way.  Even on the rats.”

Rats.  I kept putting them out of my mind.  I’d had quite enough, thank you, considering the zombie problem.  Now we had rats
to contend with as well.

“We saved you and this is how you rewarded us?” I asked.  “Stealing our vehicle and protection?  Is this what your boss stands for?”

“He’s not our boss,” said
Rory
.  “We have an arrangement.  We’re free to leave at any time.”

Rory
was the more sensible of the two; I’d known it from the moment we met. 
Pete
was a loose cannon.

“Have you tried it?” I asked.

“What?” asked
Pete
, his face set in a scowl.

“Leaving,” I answered.

“We’ve gone and come back.”

“And I’ll bet Mr. Carville wanted complete tracking
of your every move, as well as
communication
at regular intervals
, didn’t he?”

“He had to know where we were to extract us if we got into trouble,” said
Pete
. 

“Whatever. 
But I do have a question.”

“Go ahead,” said
Pete
.  “We’ll answer if we want.”

“How the hell did you find us in
Alabama
?”

“Easy.  We followed you.”

“I don’t understand.  Where were you to follow us?”

Pete
rolled his eyes.  “Mr. Carville’s been monitoring short wave radio signals for months – practically right after this shit started.  You guys have been transmitting on the Hams for almost as long.  We’ve been on your trail since you left
Georgia
.”

“So why didn’t you come after us in
Alabama
?”

“We did, if you recall.”

“I recall us saving your rear ends at the church.  That’s it,” I said.

Rory
spoke up.  “Look, Chatsworth.  You guys set up your short wave broadcast out of
Alabama
a couple of days before you left.  That gave us plenty of time to take the chopper down to
Alabama
, find a car, and follow you.”

“You were following us when we left the steel warehouse?” I asked.

“Yep,” said
Rory
.  “We were just waiting for an opportunity to grab you, but then we got mixed up in that mess at the church.”

“Yes, I was curious.  That was actually very fortunate for you.  People were so grateful to be rescued, they overlooked the fact that you two came out of nowhere.”

“I suppose that’s right,” said
Rory
.  “We were just trying to lay low while you folks were at the gas station.  We knew where you were headed, so figured we could fill up after you and
get back behind you.  Unfortunately, we decided to duck inside that church and … well, you know what went wrong from there.”

“How would you have filled anything without power?  We used hand pumps.”

“Duh,” said
Pete
.  “12 volt marine bilge pump and a long hose.  How dumb are you?”

I don’t know why I hadn’t thought of that.  I guess as a scientist, I sometimes miss the more pra
ctical solutions to problems.  No worries.  Our crank pumps worked just dandy, and they don’t even require a 12v power outlet.

“
Get Mr. Carville for me.”

“He doesn’t get up yet,” said
Rory
.  “Couple more hours yet.”

“What time is it?” I asked.  I wasn’t sure why.

“Doesn’t matter,” said
Pete
.  “All you need to know is you can’t talk to him for two more hours, at least.
”

Pete
spoke again.
 
“
We’ll get someone to bring you food.”

“A Popular Mechan
ics magazine would be good, too,” I said.
 
“
Run along, now,” I said, as though speaking to two children.

“Fuck you, Chatsworth,” said
Pete
.

“Jesus Christ, Jase,” said
Rory
.  “You are a dick sometimes.”

“You’re a dick,” said
Pete
.

Rory
shook his head.  “See you around,” he said, and nudged
Pete
.  The two men made their way down the hallway, but
did not extinguish the light.

Breakfast arrived a half hour later.  I assumed that Carville arranged the menu, because it was
an upper crust affair if I’d ever seen one.

Two eggs, over easy on English muffins.  Crispy bacon, along with home fries.  Orange juice, water, and coffee.

No tea.  Apparently Mr. Carville wasn’t a tea drinker, and while he clearly wanted me well-nourished, he did not follow stereotypes
when laying out the menu.

I never stopped thinking about Charlie.  Even when I was thinking about how I would get out of here, she was on my mind.  As I ate, she was there. 

When I was done, I went over to the door.  They keyhole was only accessible from the outside of the door, and I could not reach it from inside, as there was nowhere to reach my arm though.

I wondered how Harry Houdini would’ve approached escaping from this room.  I looked up, but the acrylic box was complete, and there was no way out.

I looked down.  Linoleum. 

So
,
the acrylic box wasn’t entirely complete.  I stomped my heel lightly on the floor.  A slight echo.

I tried to remember when this mansion had been built, and it wouldn’t come to me.  Of course I had known of Carville from years and years of news reports on the real estate
investory
, but I wasn’t one to follow every detail, as some who are impressed by the wealthy will do.

The look was from the late forties or fifties.  I didn’t know how this would help me, but my mind will run over everything until it stops on a possibility.  That possibility is analyzed and turned over this way and that, and is either discarded as too improbable, or filed away for later use.

It’s how my brain has always functioned.  I, for one, was glad to know it was still working in that familiar way.

I got in the shower then.  As I described earlier, there was no partition preventing anyone in the hallway from seeing me.  I didn’t
care any longer.

I could see the pipes and valves running up from the floor and into the wall and to the shower head.  The engineering of this prison was actually quite amazing and impressive.  I wondered when he’d started building it.

There were no other clothes for me to wear other than the ones I had picked poison ivy in, so I put on the scrubs and the lab coat, as I’m sure Carville had intended.  There were several sizes of white, loafer-style walking shoes against the wall, so I chose the size elevens and slipped them on.

An hour or so later, I heard the footfalls of several people coming down the hall.

The two guards – different guys from yesterday – came down the hallway, with Carville in the lead.  As he approached my cell, I heard a mechanical click, and the door snapped open an inch.

“Come,” said the billionaire.  “You’ve got a busy day ahead.  I trust your breakfast has you feeling sharp.”

I
stood,
walked toward the door and pushed.  I glanced at the small electronic receiver in the jamb as I
passed
through, but tried to be nonchalant about it.

“You don’t have to speak, Professor,” he said.  “But if you
ever
want to leave here, then you’d better make headway with
Raymond
and
Veronica.”

“Sir,” I said, standing directly in front of him, my arms folded.  “They’re not
your twin and your daughter
anymore.  They’re zombies.  You should get used to that.”

Carville waved his hand down the hall, and I led the way.  I could feel his icy stare boring into the back of my head as we made our way back to the cage containing my patients.

And there was Charlie again; on my mind. 

Chapter 11

We’d brought
Kimberly
,
Victoria
and Vikki to the
governor’s mansion
to stay with Trina and Taylor.  Kim insisted on coming along to the brewery, but the other two were perfectly happy to spend the day in the house with actual guards. 
Taylor
needed a soft voice and understanding now, and as much calm as she could get.

Lisa and Dave joined me, Flex and Gem at the brewery.  The urushiol was ready, and we’d extracted a lot.  When we finished draining off the last from the tanks, we had nearly two five-gallon Sparklett’s water containers filled.

We stood looking down as Dave Gammon closed the tap. 

“Compared to what you had when you found us, this looks like a goodly amount,” he said.

“It’s nearly ten times what we started with,” said Flex.

“So now that we’ve got this, we need to find Hemp,” I said.  “How do we find out where that helicopter is from?”

“I had a thought,” said Dave.

“Let’s hear it,” said Gem. 

“
Hey Kev
, there’s an airport here, right?”

“
Yep,” Reeves said.  “
Concord
Municipal.”

“What are you thinking, Dave?” I asked.

Dave shrugged.  “I say we go there look around.  Maybe there are some aircraft there with similar numbers that might tell us who owns the one that took Hemp.”

“It’s just a couple of mile away,” said Reeves.  “Want me to take you there?”

Flex shook his head.  “We’ll go,” he said.  “If I were you, I’d get a crew diluting this oil down to almost nothing, and round up as many fire extinguishers and spray bottles as you can.  Remember, a little goes a long way.”