The NEXT Apocalypse (Book 3): AFTER Life: Paradise Read online

  I gave up. I hung in the slim shaft of dim light, arms up-stretched, ready to sleep forever.

  It might be my imagination, a false memory built from what I was told later, but I think I saw the beginning of my rescue. The hockey player had not hesitated. He reached me first, sliding on his belly, his hockey stick beneath him to distribute his weight. Three of his friends did the same, forming a chain, holding each other by the ankles, screaming for him to hurry as the ice cracked around him ominously, threatening to claim them all. A fourth ran for help. Cherry just stood there paralyzed and watching. They told me she didn’t move, didn’t even scream.

  I woke up in the hospital. My March Break got extended by three weeks. The same icy cold that almost killed me also saved me from brain damage.

  Sitting in the helicopter on the way to Bainbridge, I thought a lot about the fallout from that day. I ticked them off on my fingers:

  1. After almost losing me, my parents were nicer, not just to me but to each other. They were more patient and went out of their way to be kind.

  2. When my cousin came to visit me in the hospital, she said, “An apology is a small thing, but I am sorry.” She held out her hand and offered me a half-melted ice cream sandwich.

  I took the treat and, while I ate it, told her, “You’re not cool, Cheryl. You’re not cool at all. You’re not a Cherry. You’re a Cheryl.” She was probably dead or a zombie now. I assumed she still lived in Toronto, too. After she nearly killed me, we didn’t send that branch of the family any more Christmas cards and everyone lost touch.

  3. The name of the young man who saved me was Gordon Bonnet. I sent him a Christmas card, not just then, but every Christmas since. Gordon became a plumber. He lived in Toronto with a lovely wife and three kids. On the weekends, he played bass in a bar band.

  4. If I had died that day, AFTER might never have been born, or at least the breakthrough I made with my research might not have come for several more years. Whoever did replicate my work might have been on the other side of the world, having nothing to do with my company.

  5. As Gordon rushed to save me, he unwittingly hastened his own death. If he’d known the future, he probably wouldn’t have risked his life to save mine. Or maybe he would. I don’t know. He was a great person. Sorry, Gordon.

  Sorry, everybody, everywhere.

  Cheryl’s words came back to me again, “An apology is a small thing.”

  I am an expert in microscopic machines. The tiniest thing of all is an apology.

  Chapter 8

  DANIEL

  Our helicopter descended on Bainbridge Island in gray early morning light. I leaned forward slightly to peer through the window to get a look at the vast compound below us. At first glance, the building looked like a fortress, a closed square with a large open courtyard in the middle. There were no gardens, just a fountain toward one end. Smaller clusters of outbuildings, a solar panel array and three wind turbines surrounded the complex. Beyond that, two perimeter fences enclosed the property. It looked more like a military base than a corporate research lab.

  Two details struck me as especially odd about the architecture of our destination. For one, a large enclosed pool stood under a transparent dome. The water was not blue. It was a rich green. The second detail was more obvious and it made me think Nyx would not be as helpful in finding a cure as everyone hoped: tall columns of black smoke from several fires around the compound.

  Shelly Priyat, looking pale and exhausted, followed my gaze. As soon as she spotted the smoke, she shook Chloe Robinson awake.

  The doctor stirred slowly. “Are we there yet?”

  “Nyx Management Group has some trouble,” Shelly said. “Odd coincidence, isn’t it?”

  Chloe used her sleeve to dab at the sheen of sweat on her forehead. “I don’t trust coincidences.”

  “Don’t trust anybody, Chloe,” I told her.

  Crenshaw gave my leash a savage jerk to haul me back, tight to my seat. He glowered at me. “Don’t talk to her.”

  I spared Dale Crenshaw a glance. His sweat smelled wrong. He looked like he was coming down hard with the flu. I wondered how long he had before radiation sickness would weaken his grip on my chains. Despite the chain cutting into my throat, I strained to bend forward slightly. My shoulders ached and my hands were numb from the tight cuffs. “Take it easy, Dale. You’ll be dead soon. Don’t add to your sins.”

  “I’m not interested in anything you have to say, zombie boy. Go ahead and test me. I will shoot you in lots of places before I get serious about killing you. You even think about going after Dr. Robinson again — ”

  “Sure, I get you. You’re looking for your excuse to kill me. You don’t want me telling anybody about what you did at Echidna — ”

  “Shut it. What you think you know doesn’t matter. This will all be set right soon.” Crenshaw’s chuckle sounded forced but, I had to admit, he was the one holding the leash.

  Our transport landed in the compound. At the far end by the fountain, I noticed the stars and stripes took second place on the flagpole. Atop it, the corporate logo of Nyx Management Group flew. The pilot, who had remained silent for the flight, came over the intercom. “Disembark! Everybody! Everybody out!”

  Priyat handed Robinson the box of samples so she could slide the door back. Dr. Robinson fumbled with her seatbelt buckle sleepily before struggling to her feet. Crenshaw made me get out first.

  “Did we phone ahead?” Chloe asked. “I thought there’d be a welcoming committee. Don’t they know we’re coming to save the day?”

  “I heard something. Something bad.” I tilted my head back and sniffed the air. “Dale, you can leave my muzzle on if you like, but you’re going to want me out of these cuffs.”

  “Why the hell would I do that?”

  “There is a welcoming committee. You’re not going to like it.”

  “Where?” the doctor asked.

  “Can’t you hear the snarls of the brain drained?” I asked.

  Shelly tilted her head, listening, straining to hear. My sister told me once that when she used a stethoscope, she strained the limits of her hearing to pick up nuances in a heartbeat. Jenn called it “pitching” her hearing.

  Dr. Robinson cupped a hand to her ear. “I do hear something.”

  To me, the killers sounded closer, coming fast and sounding mad. “Incoming,” I said. “Now.”

  “Where, zombie man?” Shelly asked.

  “From the burning building at the far end of the compound. They smell like death and they can’t stop growling. It’s not their fault. They’re like a swarm of brain parasites, if brain parasites could growl and run. They’re just doing what humanoid brain parasites do.”

  Half a dozen rampaging cannibals poured out of the building farthest from us. Priyat turned back to the helicopter but it lifted away before we could retreat to the safety of the sky. Crenshaw cursed. Chloe cursed louder. As the humans hunched in the wash of the rotors, the jet helicopter abandoned us to our fate.

  To me, the sudden quiet was a relief. The zombies paused a moment to watch the helicopter fly away. The infected were all men, or at least they’d been men a short time ago. Each wore a ballistic vest over camo. When the helicopter was out of sight, the pack’s gaze fell on us again. They let out a long growl I recognized. “They’ll come for us. Get me out of the cuffs, Dale. I’ll deal with them.”

  “We’ve got guns,” Crenshaw said.

  “Look at what they’re wearing. You’ll have to take them all down with knee shots or headshots. You won’t get them all before they get you. I was in the Box. I know how this will break. You’ll run out of bullets. Then whoever’s left will eat you.”

  “Die with us then,” Crenshaw said.

  The zombies charged at us like a football team.

  “If I stand still and let them kill you, they won’t turn on me.”

  Fortunately, all handcuffs have the same kind of key. Shelly Priyat stepped forward to free my hands. “You even look at us,” she said, “I’ll shoot you.”

  I took a moment to rub my wrists. “Dr. Robinson, someone named Cavanaugh programmed me to kill you with the trigger, ‘Send that bitch my regards.’ Wasn’t personal.”

  “Dying’s always personal. Doesn’t matter now,” she replied. “Cavanaugh will get his wish.”

  The pack was already past the fountain. I sprinted forward, running faster than I ever had. Crenshaw yelped in pain as my leash ripped through his palm. The heavy chain around my neck jingled as it trailed behind me. No one could see the smile beneath my muzzle as I rushed to meet the enemy, zombie versus zombie. I wasn’t just going to kick ass. I was going to kick all the ass.

  Of course, there was no way I could do it all by myself. Some got past me. They couldn’t wait to tear into the humans. I wondered if they’d been programmed to kill Chloe Robinson, too.

  Chapter 9

  CHLOE

  If it were up to me, I would have left my would-be assassin in cuffs and taken our chances.

  Crenshaw cursed at Shelly. She ignored him and checked the load in her pistol. “Once they take down Harmon, they’ll be comin’ hard at us. Like they said at Bunker Hill, ‘Don’t shoot until you see the whites of their eyes.’ You’ll just waste ammo if you panic. That happened on Level One.”

  “I don’t panic,” Crenshaw said.

  I didn’t believe him. He seemed in a continuous panic since Toronto blew up.

  Harmon ran at the zombies, covering ground fast. His movement seemed so unnaturally quick and smooth, it was almost disturbing. I saw an impossible thing. At least, it was impossible up until a couple of days ago. I clutched the heavy sample box to my chest and watched in awe as the attack unfolded. The first three of the group ran abreast, charging at us and screaming
. Their high shrieks made my stomach churn. They sounded like howler monkeys. I saw no trace of humanity in their blood smeared faces.

  Harmon became a blur as he met the enemy halfway to the fountain. From a few long strides away, he launched himself at the attackers, throwing himself into the air sideways, colliding at top speed. He took down all three.

  The one on the far left stayed down, clutching his broken throat, gagging and retching. The zombie on the right struggled to his feet, clutched his head before falling back to the ground. The remaining attacker in the middle rolled to his feet and dove at the ETF officer. Harmon came up from the ground to meet him.

  It took me a moment to understand what I witnessed. The attacker’s back was turned to me but I saw the zombie’s head rock back. Even at this distance, I heard the crack of bone. Harmon’s target fell like a tree felled by lightning.

  “Are you seeing this?” Shelly asked.

  “He’s been upgraded,” I said. “Not human, but no ordinary zombie, either.”

  “No ordinary zombie,” she echoed. “That’s what they’ll call the movie.”

  The second wave hit Harmon from behind. The ETF officer’s next attacker was slower than those in the first wave but large and powerful. He leaped on Harmon’s back, straining to sink his teeth into our defender’s neck.

  Harmon rolled forward, allowing the big man’s momentum to carry both of them to the ground. His attacker landed hard on his butt. In one smooth motion Harmon whipped the chain of his own leash around the zombie’s throat. He landed with both feet on the man’s shoulders and wrenched upwards with one savage pull. The big man went limp.

  That left two zombies running at us. One was bald, the other bearded. Crenshaw fired first, far too early. He emptied his weapon and hit the bald one in the chest twice, barely slowing him. Shelly waited until the bald attacker was closer. Ice in her veins, she chose her moment and fired twice at the last moment. The bald zombie’s skull opened like an overripe melon thrown from a great height onto concrete.

  I would have been relieved, but Crenshaw was still reloading when the bearded zombie burst between both cops and came at me. I raised the heavy metal case of samples over my head and brought it down on my attacker’s head as hard as I could muster.

  He went down as a long whine escaped his bloody lips. Shelly finished the bearded man with a double tap behind his ear.

  I shook. The cops did, too.

  “Just like in the movies,” I said. “Kill the brain, you kill the zombie.”

  “To be fair,” Shelly replied, “killing the brain works in just about any situation, zombie or not.”

  Chapter 10

  DANIEL

  The first three I killed was self-defense, pure and simple. I didn’t have to think about it. That’s when I’m at my best, when I don’t have to think too much. By the time I killed the fourth zombie, I felt differently. Trapped in each growling cannibal was a human being, bewildered, revolted and afraid. As I shut the oxygen off to the big man’s brain, I felt the cervical vertebrae fracture. This time, I did not feel regret. I’d released him from his trap.

  But is that me rationalizing what must be done? Or is that the nanites, working out a cold equation, solving for x, erasing a variable?

  The clouds broke and I glimpsed azure sky. I’d never seen that color so clearly. The helicopter was gone. The day reminded me of 9/11, how everyone looked up to wonder at a view devoid of flying machines. We all stopped to look and watch and wait for what would come next. Except for military aircraft, there would be no commercial flight today. There might not be for a long time to come. Tragedy makes the world hold its breath. For a moment, we reassess our priorities. My trouble was I didn’t know if it was me or the nanites doing my thinking for me.

  Crenshaw pointed his pistol at my head and stalked out to meet me. He tossed me the handcuffs and I obliged him by putting them on. At least now they were in front of me and not too tight. Crenshaw didn’t step closer than he had to. He wasn’t interested in checking my cuffs. After seeing me in action, he was more afraid than before. I was surprised how it worked out, too, but it would have been uncool to say so.

  I was actually relieved to look down his pistol barrel again. Though the Artificial Intelligence running my brain was preprogrammed to kill Dr. Chloe Robinson, I didn’t have to execute the order if success seemed unlikely. The nanites bubbling through my brain had an overriding if/then rule: Self-preservation took precedence. My death would mean the death of the AI and the nanites wanted to live. I was not to sacrifice myself.

  Before my captors could plan their next move, a dozen armed men in white biohazard suits emerged from the building to our right. They converged on us at once. They were quieter than the zombies had been.

  “That’s a lot of gunslingers,” Priyat told Chloe. “Stay behind me.”

  Crenshaw brightened and pointed with the muzzle of his weapon. I got his gist and stepped in front of him. He used me as his human shield … well, not a human shield. I couldn’t be that anymore.

  Standing before of all those riflemen, I felt vulnerable. I was stronger and faster but I wasn’t faster than a bullet. Even if the nanites could repair me, I didn’t relish the idea of suffering ballistic trauma and doubted even the AI could fix me fast enough to save me. The punch of kinetic energy delivered by a single AR-15 is no joke. More than one? No thanks. As the only member of the group who was a new species, I figured someone would be eager to murder me and get straight to the autopsy.

  Worse, the men in white were jumpy. I could see it in the way they moved. They trembled with fear and anger. I’d just killed three of their coworkers and they hadn’t seen what we’d seen in Toronto. They were new to this war.

  A woman with a pistol came forward. Through her faceplate, I recognized her immediately. She knew who I was, too. Her eyes never left mine. “Welcome to Suthina Laboratories! We don’t call it that. This is Bainbridge Island, of course, so we call it Brainbridge.”

  “I’m Shelly Priyat and that’s Dale Crenshaw, Toronto Police,” Shelly said. “This is Dr. Chloe Robinson and the man in cuffs — ”

  “We know who Daniel Harmon is.”

  I’m with the Toronto Police, too, I thought. Jeez! I’m awfully young to be a write-off!

  “Toronto’s gone,” Chloe said.

  “We know,” the woman said. “Everybody knows. The missile strike has sparked quite a debate. The UN isn’t sure whether to condemn the United States or thank us for decisive action. The stock market is shut down. Protestors are doing what protesters do and the preppers and doomers are in hog heaven, gearing up for civil war. It’s a mess.”

  Chloe stepped out from behind Priyat. “We were close to the blast. Any closer and we wouldn’t have made it out.”

  The woman looked ashen. “We … we didn’t see that coming.” She cleared her throat, gathering her thoughts. “It’s terrible. I’m sorry for all you have lost. Nobody meant it to happen. It just did.”

  “Nothing just happens,” Chloe said. “For every effect, there’s a cause.”

  The woman stiffened. “Call it human error, then. The human factor is always the most troublesome variable.” She looked at me. “If things go as I think they will, we’ll eliminate that variable soon.”

  Chloe pointed at the dead cannibals at our feet. “Does the human factor explain where those zombies came from? They didn’t run here from Toronto and the captured patients we got are in a helicopter a few minutes behind us.”

  “We’ve been running our own experiments, trying to understand the disease better. We got results similar to those at the Toronto lab.”

  Chloe hefted the case in her hands. “I’ve got tissue samples from Echidna. With your help, I may be able to stop the epidemic.”

  A security guy, the only one wearing a tan bio suit, asked, “Didn’t the nuke do that? Wasn’t that what the hit was for?”

  The woman made a motion to cut him off but Chloe answered anyway. “The disease will be slowed but someone will have survived the blast.” She looked around the compound, at the towers of smoke coming from Suthina Laboratories. She nodded toward the bodies of the zombies I’d killed. “It’s here, too, obviously.”