Pulse: Retaliation (Anisakis Nova Book 2) (9 page)

19 – Ben Moreno

The Mass intimidated Ben. Even Mr. Ruchipip was wary of it. As he stood outside the door to the room, a young infected man by his side, he hesitated to go in. The man struggled against his grip, so Ben smashed his head against the doorframe to shut him up.

He needed a second to prepare.

Ben knew the Mass was important to the Parasite, but the giant mound of bodies and worms was alarming. The other infected only went to it if they were adding to it, like he was now.

It was in the grand dining room, which was the second biggest room in the house. Before, it had a giant mahogany table that seated 18 people. They commissioned it to be hand carved by an eccentric woodworking family in Virginia. It was a great conversation topic. There were beautiful paintings and small sitting areas his wife organized. It was where they hosted lavish Christmas parties in the winter and barbeques in the summer.

That life seemed so long ago. Distant, as though the memories were from a foreigner implanted in his own brain. The room was quite different now. They nailed boards over the windows so not a sliver of light entered. The Mass seemed to grow better in a dark, moist environment. The paintings and extra furniture were tossed in the front yard to give it more growing space. They left the table. The Mass grew on it like beans on a wireframe, using it for leverage.

Go on. You just have one
, Mr. Ruchipip reminded him.
Add him and go. Do not dally.

Ben took a deep breath. Mr. Ruchipip was right. He couldn't afford to show any hesitance. It wasn't as though he questioned The Mass or the Parasite. He would never do such a thing. Fear is what stopped him.

The man moaned, coming to. Ben caught him hiding in a linen closet while they were on their latest raid. They found four infected adults and two infected children inside the big home. This was the only one who almost eluded them. But Ben had a feeling. A sense, almost, directing him. It was his responsibility to put the new stock into the Mass.

They started the Mass with the bodies of infected who wouldn't cooperate. Ben knew all infected were equal, but sacrifices had to be made to give the Parasite what it wanted. It pained him to kill any of his own, but it had to be done.

First they broke their arms and legs so they couldn't move. That was important. While their bodies rested against each other, the parasite surfaced from their skin and connected itself to the body near it. If they struggled, it would break the delicate bridges formed by the worms. As the days went by, the parasites pulled the flesh closer together until Ben couldn't tell where one body started and another began.

This particular individual was the only one of the six who refused to cooperate. He preferred to go solo, he said. No one would rule him. He was wrong.

Ben opened the dining room door and slipped inside, dragging the body behind him. He had to leave the door open just a crack so he could see.

It had been a day since he entered the dining room. Worms longer than he'd ever seen before covered the growing mound and room like vines on an old building. They stretched outward from the Mass, seeking, searching, wanting more. Some were halfway up the ceiling.

The sledgehammer they'd been using to break limbs was almost completely covered by a fleshy mound. It squelched and tore as he pulled it free. Ooze leaked from the abrasion in the Mass. The entire thing quivered.

Ben gently removed any parasites clinging to the handle, then wiped it dry on his clothes. With a firm grip, he raised it above his head and brought it down on the man's right knee. He felt the metal head connect with the wood floor as it completely shattered his knee. At first he was in shock. Then the screams started.

High pitched and long, they continued as Ben finished the rest of the man's joints. Even as he set the sledgehammer against the doorway and left, he screamed. Eventually Ben didn't hear the pleas anymore.

The next day when he entered the dining room, the body had been absorbed.

20 – Dom

Early in the morning, Linda and Dom drove to the garden store down the road. She knew it well, and also knew that it hadn't been open since the infection started spreading. She assumed the owners were dead.

"I've walked by it before. No one wants to rob a garden store." She'd laughed. "Why would they?"

Morning fog still hung in the air as Dom drove down the vacant streets. He felt at ease with Linda. She was older than him, by maybe ten years, yet she seemed much older. Her skin was badly sun damaged and wrinkled. Grays already plagued her sandy blond hair. It was her attitude that gave her youth.

They parked behind the store and got out of the truck. It was quiet. Blissfully quiet. Renton wasn't a victim of the rejuvenated infection yet, but it was approaching. He was ready to finish the last of their supply gathering and leave.

The back entrance and front sliding glass doors were locked. Dom and Linda searched the perimeter of the building for another way in, but found nothing readily accessible. He'd been prepared for this and retrieved a crowbar from the truck.

With barely any pressure, he pried open the back door. The lock bent like a pop can. Inside, everything was untouched. Starter plants in little plastic cups were dead on tables. Pallets of dirt and fertilizer filled most of the back room along with boxes of other gardening supplies.

"Let's check the whole place first," Linda said as she whipped out a notebook and pen. "See what we need and what we want to take."

She and the others with a gardening background made a list of everything they'd need. Dom was glad they were confident, because he didn't know anything about growing food. He had a houseplant once, one that boasted easy care, but it died in a week. After flipping through the gardening books Chelsea found, and seeing how every plant seemed to need something different, it felt impossible.

The doorway into the main store had heavy plastic sheets dividing it. Dom pushed them aside and stepped into an aisle of yard decorations.

Giant skylights above illuminated the place in a soft white light. They came out of the aisle by two cash registers in an open area that seemed to be the center of the store. Everything was perfectly intact.

Linda ran her hand against a glass garden orb in a display, a wrinkly grimace appearing on her face. "It's kind of humid in here. Not good for seeds if too much moisture got to them."

Great
, Dom thought.
Just when things were looking up.

He spotted metal shopping carts lined up by the front of the store and retrieved one, then sacks from the register. "Let's hope not. I don't have to see it myself to know people are going crazy in bigger chain stores."

Superstores like Fred Myer and Walmart became operational only three months earlier. Dom and Chelsea went there once, just to see what it was like, and were disturbed. The prices were grossly inflated due to the scarcity of resources. Medium quality toilet paper was thirty bucks for 4 rolls. They might have gardening supplies still, but anyone would be risking their lives to get it.

Linda knew her way around. They went straight to two big racks of seeds and took all of them, loading the sacks up to the brim. The packages seemed to be in good condition on the outside, but Linda told him seeds could go bad if they weren't stored properly. They wouldn't know until they tried to grow them.

Dom was in awe, yet nervous that those seeds had to provide food for their future community. They were precious.

Next, they took every liquid fertilizer, herbicide, and pesticide they could find. After ten minutes they had to return to the truck and unload their finds. The next trip yielded deer netting, metal t-posts, shovels, hoes, rakes, and other tools.

Earlier they scavenged heavy duty items, including a chainsaw, table saw, a tiny gas powered generator, and a high quality outdoor propane stove. They intended to use it for boiling water which would be vital to their survival.

Linda was ecstatic about DIY hoop house kits Dom found. The kits contained PVC pipe, clear plastic, and some zip ties. She explained it would make growing a lot easier, and help them produce food year round. The packages were bulky and took up almost half the truck bed, but she insisted they were a valuable asset.

They got everything they came for and then some. Linda and Dom tied a new tarp over their goods and sat on the bumper, exhausted and sweaty. She retrieved two bottles of water from her backpack and handed one to Dom.

"How hard will it be to grow all this stuff?" Dom asked after downing half the bottle.

"Hard. We don't know what the soil is like up there, or even if there's enough clear space to grow." She sighed. "Farming takes a lot of skill. Between all of us, I do think we have a good shot."

They shared a moment of comfortable silence, finishing off the rest of their water. During the hour and a half they'd been raiding the store, the sun began cutting through the fog. It was going to be another sweltering day.

He stood, ready to get back in the truck and deliver their goods to Jim, when Linda set her hand on his shoulder.

"How much do you know about Jamie?"

The question took him off guard. "Uh, not much. He's been our roommate since we started living in Renton. Keeps to himself mostly. Why?"

"I have a bad feeling about him." She was blunt. "He looks at Brittney
very
intensely. Stares. I might be reading into it, but we're going to be living with each other forever. You know?"

Dom scanned his memory. Had he noticed that? Jamie flew under Dom's radar. Dom never noticed anything good or bad about the guy. "I haven't. Have you mentioned this to anyone else?"

"No. I don't want to start something, you know? Not without any concrete proof. Heaven only knows how many false accusations of sexual harassment went around at my job. I don't take these things lightly."

While Dom didn't like using movies and books as a reference for life, he was going to take a page out of them for this one. How many times had a character made a claim against someone only to have it be rejected, then later the person ends up being a psycho? A woman's claim of a creepy guy would be ignored--written off as an overly sensitive chick thing—and the guy ended up being a rapist? The examples were endless.

As far as Dom was concerned, if someone had a bad feeling, he would take them seriously. "I understand. I'll keep an eye on him. You do the same. If he does anything suspicious, we'll confront him. Okay?"

Linda nodded. "Thanks, Dom. I appreciate it. You're going to do good leading us."

Dom wanted to laugh and let his sarcastic attitude take over. He managed to resist. "Thank you, Linda. I
appreciate it. This has been crazy."

During the ride to Jim's, Dom ran over everything he knew about Jamie. Anything unusual he'd said, anything odd he'd done. Maybe he was just a loner. People could be a little quirky.

No matter how he looked at it, he kept returning to one fact; Jamie picked Brittney and her family to join them at The Lake.

21 – Dr. Adam Baker

Adam hadn't felt the same sense of pride and excitement over Gina's pregnancy with his twin daughters as he did with Jean's baby. It wasn't just the aroma she secreted—like the usual infected sweat but triple the intensity—but the fact she was pregnant to begin with. It was a miracle to him.

Perhaps a bit shameful, too. Why hadn't
he
thought of this strategy before? It was so obvious. Would the child carry a new strain of the parasite? Would that be immune to MAC? Despite the intellectual blunder, Adam was hopeful and giddy.

After they found out she was with child, he quarantined her from the rest of the clinic. He couldn't risk a rogue infected harming her in any way. Or worse, if the uninfected cows found them they might experiment on her and use her for the purposes of a cure.

If anyone ever touched her, there would be hell to pay. He'd tear the fucking guts out of anyone who laid a hand on her. Or even looked at her.

Agitated, he stood from his desk and began pacing. The mere thought of it made Adam's blood pressure rise. He couldn't calm himself down, then realized the perfect release.

On the way to his destination, he grabbed a handful of lackeys and led them to the hospital lobby where the hostages were held. He found the latest crop of cattle Henderson's men brought in and chose the bravest of the ten.

There was always a brave one. All it took was grabbing a female or child and seeing which one jerked forward in a pointless attempt to rescue them. This time it was a tall, broad-shouldered woman with fiery red hair.

His men held the uninfected down while Adam eviscerated her. Her companions’ fear and screams elevated his mood in an instant. Satisfied with the results, he let his people do what they wanted with the body.

Picking off one here and there for stress relief wouldn't hurt his cause. And really, since the good news with Jean and the progress Liam was making on sequencing, he didn't do it that often.

Stress relief. That reminded him of his daily meeting with Henderson. He was probably waiting at his office.

Old Adam was never late. When he was, he apologized profusely, probably to the point where he irritated the recipient. Now he did what he wanted. If he wanted to be late, he would. If he wanted to skip the meeting altogether, he would.

Just to prove to himself people ran on his clock, he took a winding path back to his office, stopping at every little experiment he had running.

Henderson, as expected, was waiting outside of his office. His hands were clasped behind him. Today he wore a white turtleneck under his white blazer. Adam was amused, as usual, by the thought of bear hugging the behemoth with his own disheveled, bloody self to see what his reaction would be.

"Come on in," Adam said. He spread his arms open. "What news have you for me today?"

They entered his office. It had a particularly dank, coppery smell today. After a moment sitting at his desk, he got used to it.

"All good news, sir. The attacks on hospitals and MAC distribution centers are going well. Our ambushes have the military spinning. The abduction rate...pardon me, survival rate...on healthies is a little low."

Adam slammed his fist on his desk. "Fuck me! Is it
that
hard to let them live? You can do a lot to a person without killing them."

After his noncommittal shrug, Henderson said nothing. There wasn't much to be said on the topic. It was hard getting the infected to behave. They could talk circles around the subject and arrive at the same conclusion.

And what about the future? In the long term they'd need healthies to grow food—not all infected were cannibals—and operate power plants and everything else essential. Adam squeezed his eyes shut. He couldn't begin to think about how difficult that would be.

First they had to focus on what was the most important. Establishing dominance over the healthy population. The healthies needed to feel totally hopeless and suppressed. Once they were, there was room for control.

Fear was the strongest facilitator of control. Adam learned that both in his old life and new.

"That leads me to my next topic of conversation."

Broken from his thoughts, Adam refocused on the man. "Hmm? What does?"

"The survival rate. Some are making great efforts in making your vision come true. It would be motivating if you acknowledged some of the work these people are doing."

Adam was displeased by the criticism. Who was Henderson to tell him what to do? "Well, I suppose if you gave me a list I could go waste my valuable time giving a pat on the back to every pitiful fuck who managed to follow one order."

"I'm not suggesting you do that. I mean there are a few individuals who have set themselves apart. I think you underestimate their value. Do you remember Colum and Heather?"

He searched his memory. They were all a blur. For the sake of indulging Henderson—whom he did appreciate—he pretended to know. "Yes. What about them?"

Henderson, that masked giant, seemed to detect the lie. He briefed him on what the duo were doing. It came back to Adam then. He tasked a handful of semi-capable workers on harvesting eggs from hosts in the coma stage for himself, but also a project Colum and Heather came up with. That was at least a week ago. Adam couldn't be expected to remember things that far back.

"Their efforts will likely make a huge difference in the infected population. That was their idea, too. They've carried it out on their own with little direction from me."

Adam waived him away. "Fine. Whatever. Bring them to me whenever you want and I'll let them know what a fabulous job they've been doing."

Was Henderson frowning behind the mask? Pleased with Adam's answer?

"Is there anything else?"

"No, Dr. Baker. That's all." Henderson stood, then stopped as his hand touched the handle. "You should remember, Adam, you are just the tip of the pyramid. Without the base below you, there is nothing to keep you up."