Plague Nation (12 page)

Tony didn’t even look up at our entrance, just stared straight ahead at nothing. I wanted to hug him, but knew better than to try.

We all sat there in silence for a minute. I looked at Simone, surprised and disturbed to see her looking as if she’d aged ten years. She was dressed and groomed as impeccably as ever, but her eyes were swollen. The contrast between her grass-green irises and bloodshot whites was startling.

After all the things she’s seen
—must
have seen over the years, it still gets to her,
I realized. Somehow, that made me afraid—maybe for all of us.

Even Paxton looked... well, he always looked sad, given his weird-ass mask of a face, but if that wasn’t genuine sorrow I saw in his eyes, he was a damned fine actor. Somehow, though, he also looked pissed off. And when he finally spoke, his voice thrummed with barely suppressed anger.

“So, what happened out there?”

Gentry started to speak, but Paxton raised a hand to cut him off.

“I’ve already received your report, Sergeant Gentry. I’m interested in hearing from the rest of the wild cards.” He looked around the room, his gaze landing on each of us, as penetrating as a laser beam. I felt judged as his gaze hit me. Tried, judged, and convicted before I’d said a word.

“Ashley?”

Shit.

“What happened?”

I took a few seconds to think about it, trying to figure out if there was any sort of “right answer” to explain what had happened. We’d all fucked up, dropped our guard. Even though Mack and I had worried about their behavior, when Tony, Kai, and Lil had dashed off to check that last trailer, we hadn’t done anything to stop them. Our passiveness was as much at fault as their cocky carelessness. Even Gabriel had been operating at less than his best, especially given his irrational behavior of late.

“Well, Ms. Parker?” Paxton stared at me, waiting for my response.

I gulped,
so
not wanting to be the one to say what needed to be said.

“We got careless.” I felt rather than saw Tony flinch at my words. “
All
of us. We didn’t stop to think about the fact there might be something or someone other than zombies that could hurt us.” I paused, unable to think of anything to add that might mitigate our part in Kai’s death.

The room was quiet.

“Anyone else have anything to add?” he asked. The quiet turned into a dead silence—the difference between an attentive classroom and a tomb.

“No?” Paxton stood up and paced back and forth in front of the table a couple times before coming to a stop in front of it. “Then I have something to say. Everyone dies. We are in the equivalent of a wartime situation. Unexpected variables come into play. Shit, as they say, happens.”

Okay, so maybe he was going to cut us some slack after all.

“But what happened to Kai?” He shook his head, and I knew we were about to get hammered. “His death should not have happened.” His gaze swept across the room again, the disappointment and anger in it like shards of white-hot shrapnel. “It was pure carelessness. Horseplay instead of professional behavior.” Lil gave a choked sob next to me. I didn’t dare look at Tony.

“And if even
one
of you had been paying attention, this might have been prevented.” His Shakespearean voice added extra weight—and guilt—to his words. He paused again, and then continued. “
Might
have been prevented. Perhaps, and perhaps not. We have no way of knowing how else this situation might have unfolded had you all been at the top of your game, instead of
playing
games.”

Ouch.

“I want all of you to think about this.” His voice softened marginally. “You are wild cards. You’re not invulnerable, but you’ve been given enhanced senses, and an immunity to whatever causes the dead to resurrect. You can fight in situations no one else can survive, without fear of infection. And your blood holds at least part of the answer to what could be the ultimate cure to what is arguably the greatest threat our civilization has ever faced.” Then the softness disappeared, making me wonder if it ever was there.

“To squander these advantages is inexcusable. You are among our greatest assets.”

“Kai wasn’t a fucking
asset
.”

We all looked up as Tony uncurled from his ball of misery and stared at Paxton with real hate.

“He was a person, and he was my friend.”

I looked at Paxton, wondering how he’d respond.

“You’re right, Tony. Kai wasn’t just a wild card, and I don’t just mourn his death as if he was a lost weapon. But in my position, I’m forced to think of these things on the most basic and practical levels, because that’s my job. It doesn’t mean I don’t respect—and feel—your loss.”

I had to give him credit. What he said made sense.

Tony didn’t reply.

“So think about this tomorrow when you go back out,” Paxton added. “This isn’t just about you. It’s not even about the survival of Redwood Grove. This is about the survival of the human race.” He stopped, and looked around the room. “Any questions?”

There weren’t any.

“Well, then.” Paxton sat back down behind the table. “I am truly sorry for your loss. I know you lost not only a teammate, but also a friend. Do his memory proud, and don’t let this happen again.”

Now don’t do it again.

I had to stifle a majorly inappropriate giggle as the line from
Life of Brian
made an unfortunately timed hit-and-run through my brain. Paxton shot me a look and I turned the sound into a cough, then dug my nails into my thighs.

* * *

“Sir, are you ready to order?”

Griffin looked up at the hip, twenty-something waitress who was standing in front of him. She looked somewhere past his left ear, avoiding eye contact. Typical waitress-slash-whatever-the-fuck, perfectly suited to work at a trendy wine bar in Santa Monica.

Too cool for school, this one.
So he turned on the charm.

“What do you recommend, love?” The endearment could have been offensive, but just a little hint of an accent turned it into something acceptable.

“Um... what do you like?” she asked.

Griff smiled more broadly.

“Now that is an open question.”

He looked directly into her eyes before giving her body a slow up-and-down, briefly admiring the long—and thankfully not too skinny—legs displayed by her short black skirt, and breasts that were either fake or cleverly displayed in Victoria’s Secret’s most miraculous of bras. Her face was generic Hollywood starlet—collagen trout pout, perfect little nose, and a deliberately casual mane of the best blonde dye job her salary could buy.

Her most attractive—and genuine—features were her eyes, dark brown and framed with thick lashes. So he focused on those, giving her the full benefit of his own undeniably seductive hazel ones. Those eyes, combined with the kind of accessible bad boy looks that women loved, had yet to let him down.

He could sense both her discomfort, and her arousal.

Both reactions turned him on.

“But let’s just start with wine...” He looked at her nametag. “Mandy, is it?”

He settled on a Zinfandel from Paso Robles, flirting with Mandy enough to ensure an extra large pour. Then he settled back to enjoy people-watching from his patio seating.

It’d been a long time since he’d had the luxury of watching anyone who wasn’t wearing standard prison orange.

* * *

Mandy’s shift ended at 10 p.m., and there was no question that Griff would “walk her home.” He did just that, to a little mother-in-law cottage behind a Craftsman-style bungalow on Fourth Avenue. He walked her all the way into her bedroom, where their clothes went flying and they killed several bottles of wine in between bouts of ferociously kinky sex. Mandy had a seemingly bottomless chest of sex toys, and Griff took it as a point of pride to test out every one of them.

Hours later, both lay exhausted on Mandy’s bed, its memory foam mattress abused into amnesia. Griff reached out and poured the last dregs of very expensive Pinot Noir, savoring the aroma before drinking. He could swear his senses were more... well... sensitive since he’d rejoined the real world.

“Mmmm...” Mandy gave a little purr of satisfaction, her eyes glazed with wine, satiated lust, and exhaustion. “You are something, you—” A sharp cough cut off the rest of her sentence.

Sitting up, she reached for a bottle of Perrier on the bedside table, but another coughing fit hit before she could grab it. Griff stretched a lazy arm over her and snagged the Perrier, waiting until her coughing subsided before offering it to her.

“Thanks.” She took a sip, then another.

“You okay?” he asked.

“I don’t feel so good.”

Griff looked at her. Mandy’s corneas were now yellow, shot through with red streaks, like bloody egg yolks.

“You don’t look so good, love.” She didn’t. Fucking unappetizing, if the truth be told.

She started coughing again, this time doubling over with the force of the spasms. Dark fluid trickled out from the corners of her mouth, as her eyes widened in fear and pain.

“I don’t—” The cough turned into retching, gouts of viscous black liquid spraying over the white down comforter. Griff raised an eyebrow and got out of bed, taking the wine glass with him.

“Call nine-one—” Mandy vomited again, her eyes now leaking blood.

“I think it’s too late for that, love.” Griff sipped his wine and watched as she went into convulsions, her entire body wracked with spasms, until one last back-breaking shudder engulfed her frame.

And then she stopped breathing.

Griff finished his wine and set the glass on the bedside table. Calmly putting on his clothes, he wandered into the small kitchen, had a glass of water, and pulled a carving knife from a block on the counter. It was a cheap-shit knife set, but it would have to do.

A thumping sound from the bedroom alerted him. He turned in time to see Mandy’s reanimated corpse fumble its way through the bedroom door, once-brown corneas now corpse-white in the center of that bloody sea of yellow.

A shame,
he thought.
Ah, well.

“Come here, love,” Griff said softly, raising the knife.

Never let it be said that he didn’t take responsibility for his actions.

We held a memorial service for Kai in the quad early the next morning.

The weather was gray and foggy again, as if in sympathy. Everyone stood in a semi-circle under a tall redwood, the wild cards at the front of the group. The turnout would have gratified Kai—it would have confirmed that he was every bit as popular as he thought he was.

Egotistical little shit,
I thought affectionately.

I figured at least eighty or so people showed up, both military and civilians, even the ones who’d given us the stink-eye when we’d first started fighting the outbreak. Shades of X-Men, right? But after we’d taken out the swarm, many of them had started treating us like heroes and, more importantly, human beings. Kai’s death proved we were just as vulnerable as they were.

Jamie was there, eyes brimming with tears as she gave me a hug before going to stand near Simone. Colonel Paxton gave a short but eloquent eulogy. He talked about Kai’s bravery, and sacrifice for the greater good, but how ultimately nothing was worth the loss of Kai’s life. I agreed with “nothing being worth the loss,” but how getting killed by “friendly fire” contributed to the greater good, well, that was beyond me.

I guess it was better than saying that Kai’s death was a tragic mistake and an utter waste, which was closer to the truth.

Paxton asked if anyone else wanted to say a few words, but no one took him up on it. We were all too shell-shocked. Lil and Tony were both emotional wrecks, but Lil was much easier to deal with because she accepted whatever affection and comfort she could get. Mack and I took turns letting her cry on our shoulders, with Nathan filling in as grief counselor now and again, in his own gruff way. He had a soft spot for Lil, and generally reserved his least sarcastic moods for her.

Tony, on the other hand, shrugged off any attempts to comfort him. His attitude toward the rest of us was beyond hostile, almost as if he hated us—and probably himself—for being alive. He seemed especially pissed off at Mack, because Mack had defended Kai’s killer, and he couldn’t forgive that yet.

My guess was that he also couldn’t forgive himself for beating up on a woman, even if he hadn’t known what he was doing at the time. It was a truly fucked up, complicated guilt cocktail served to someone far too young.

And I kind of understood. Personally, I didn’t know where Mack got his endless well of compassion, because even though it had been an accident, I still couldn’t help but feel angry—at the woman, and at Kai and the rest of us for getting sloppy, letting our guards down, and turning a very serious mission into a stupid game.

The only person who could get near Tony was Gentry, maybe because of the geeky bond he’d formed with Tony and Kai from day one. Whatever the reason, the rest of us backed off in unspoken agreement and let Gentry take point on this particular mission. We were barely holding together as it was, and didn’t need the emotional collateral damage.

* * *

Unfortunately,
death
didn’t take a holiday.

We went out the next day, Nathan joining us this time. We were down to six wild cards.

Technically Simone was one of us, but she didn’t exactly count because Paxton wouldn’t authorize her to go on any sort of combat outings. Her knowledge of the zombie contagion was too valuable, and most of her time was spent working in the lab with Dr. Albert. Gabriel counted as a sort of half wild card, because he couldn’t get infected again if he was bitten, and he could kick major ass even without the enhanced abilities.

Gentry and Nathan seemed to be the least potentially explosive combination for Tony, leaving Lil, Gabriel, and me to work together. Lil’s killing exuberance was unusually subdued, which wasn’t necessarily a bad thing.