Breaking Danger (14 page)

Elle dipped her head. “Yes, they are. Catherine and I have been observing them, with time lapses backward and forward. There's good news and bad news. Which one do you want first?”

Jon answered. “Bad news first. I can't imagine there's much good news.”

“Okay.” Elle hesitated. She was pale, stressed. “Soph . . .” Her voice broke and her Nick put a big arm around her. For the very first time, Sophie understood down to the bone what having a strong man at your side meant, the support it could give. She leaned back, just a little, and there Jon was. Tall, broad, solid. A pillar of strength.

She'd never believed in that whole man-woman thing. She'd always dated men who were basically her—cerebral and detached—but with a cylinder of flesh dangling between their legs that came in useful now and again. Her men had been narrow-shouldered, with pale undeveloped muscles, not too good with the physical, outside world. Bad drivers, hopeless at repairs—one boyfriend back in Chicago used to call her over to change lightbulbs, though he thanked her with food. He was a fabulous cook.

Not at any stage of her life had Sophie thought to
lean
on a man as a source of strength. She'd never had to. But now the tables were turned and Jon and everything he represented—the iron and steel world of battle, the world of sheer male physical strength—were as necessary to her as breathing. As a matter of fact, if she wanted to keep breathing, if she wanted to make it out of the trap of her flat and to safety, she was going to need Jon's qualities.

“The swarm grew through the night. It seems to be a universal phenomenon with the virus. We're seeing swarms forming in Oakland, in Sacramento. And, God, Soph. Los Angeles . . .”

Sophie gasped. The Los Angeles basin was one large catchment area, a geographical trap, with mountains to the north, east, south, and ocean to the west.

“Los Angeles is a nightmare.” Elle's voice was shaky.

“San Diego's a little better,” Nick picked up. “But not much. So here's what the San Francisco swarm looks like.”

The hologram flickered and then there was a bird's-eye view of the Bay Area, much higher than the drones' eye view. For a moment, it looked like there had been a mudslide or a lava flow, oozing down the streets. Then the focus sharpened and it was clear that the streets were dark with infected swarming their way to the waterfront.

There was complete silence as they watched scenes that no human had ever seen before.

Elle cleared her throat. “Catherine and I have done some calculations, Soph. There's a definite tropism at work so the swarm attracts outliers. It's growing by the hour. But that also means that when the swarm has passed you, there will be a window of opportunity of, say, fifteen minutes with no infected nearby because they will all be caught up in the swarm. You can make your getaway then. We estimate that the swarm will pass by you completely by four
P.M
. Here—” The images tilted, the earth moving swiftly below. It followed the swarm to its edges, which could almost have been drawn. As the swarm moved, the edges were clear-cut, with no infected coming after the stragglers. “You'll have a clear shot after it passes.”

Oh God, going out in broad daylight . . . Sophie looked up at Jon, whose face had tightened. Jon answered for her.

“Sophie thinks their eyesight is diminished in the dark. Wouldn't it be better to wait until after sundown?”

Mac was shaking his head. “Negative. There are apparently mini swarms forming all over the city. There's no guarantee that other swarms might not appear after dark. And you have only one set of NVGs. So make preparations to exfil around sixteen hundred hours. With luck, you'll be back in Haven before nightfall. And we can start manufacturing the vaccine.”

Nick looked to his left, to the stocky ex-military man. “And so now for some good news . . .”

The man's voice was low, gruff. He dipped his head. “Jon. This is Snyder. Former General Snyder.”

Sophie looked in surprise at Jon's jolt. Had that been a
growl?
His eyes shot blue ice, his entire body language that of hostility.

“Hold on, son.” Snyder held up a hand with short thick fingers and a broad palm. “Before you go off the deep end, I fought the Pentagon tooth and nail over the court-martial. And I was invited to an early retirement for my pains. So don't you go growling at me, you hear?”

“Yeah? That's what Mac said. Well, it doesn't make much difference now. And what the fuck is the Pentagon doing for us now, huh?”

Snyder's mouth firmed, a flush appeared on his tanned cheeks. “We don't know. None of us can get in touch with anyone at the Pentagon. Anyone in Washington, actually.”

Oh God. “Do you think—” It sounded so horrible Sophie had trouble articulating it. “Do you think they have cut California off? Can they do that?”

“They can.” Snyder's jaw muscles jumped.

“We're on our own,” Jon said, voice grim. “They abandoned us.”

“We're on our own, son,” Snyder confirmed. “But we're fighting back. Because the good news is that a lot of people have managed to circle the wagons. We can't communicate outside California but we've got a call out 24/7 to survivors and they are calling in. Unfortunately, there's not much we can do for individuals caught up on the roofs of their homes. But we've got whole communities that are bunkered down. We've managed fifteen air drops of weapons, explosives, food, and water so they can hold out until we can get the vaccine to them. We're ferrying supplies, evacuating the wounded—not infected wounded, just people who've been injured getting themselves to safety.”

Sophie leaned forward. “Are you following Q-and-I protocols?” she asked urgently.

“Absolutely, we're following quarantine-and-isolation protocols.” Catherine stepped into the monitor. “We're following CDC protocols, though isolation doesn't really apply here because we don't have any infected to isolate. It was deemed too dangerous.”

“Yes, of course.” Sophie ran through what she knew of CDC protocols. “We're looking at an engineered virus.” Sophie kept her voice steady even though the thought of a scientist—a person dedicated to human knowledge—intentionally engineering this viral plague made her heartsick. “I don't have any hard data on the incubation period, but I suspect it is very short. It's important that we observe quarantine protocols.”

Catherine and Elle had their heads bent over their tablets, entering data. “Got it,” Catherine said, raising her head. “Anything else?”

Sophie hesitated. This didn't rise to the level of science, but they were operating in such darkness anything might be of help. “This is completely anecdotal, but from my observations, I noted several infected with light-colored eyes go from shadow to sunlight with no noticeable contraction of the pupils. I observed at least fifty cases of this through binoculars, but of course I couldn't conduct tests in controlled circumstances. Nonetheless, I feel that I can say that there is a statistically high probability that the virus fixes the pupils so that accommodation is impossible. Which of course would explain why they might have reduced vision at night. Their pupils are locked. So you might want to shine a bright light into everyone who comes into the quarantine sector and everyone you release into the general population. See if the pupils accommodate.”

“We can broadcast that,” said Snyder. “That would be really helpful if you can't distinguish between a normal injury and a bite. Because a lot of people are having problems putting down loved ones, even ones they know are infected.”

“Particularly children,” Elle added, face sad.

Oh yeah. Sophie repressed a shudder, imagining the situation . . . A mother, looking down at her stricken child. Her bitten, stricken child, who soon would become a monster. And she's the one who must decide to put the child down—before he or she turns, while it is still
her
child. Killing your child who is crying
mommy!

I hope you burn in hell, Charles Lee.
Dr. Charles Lee, head of Arka Pharmaceuticals. The man who had unleashed this hell on earth.

“Some of the fortified communities are gathering in refugees themselves,” Snyder said, addressing Jon. “We're getting reports all the time of enclaves of uninfecteds.”

“Make sure all quarantine-and-isolation protocols are followed to the letter!” Sophie said sharply.

Snyder stared directly at the camera and it was exactly as if he were staring her in the eyes. “Yes, ma'am. Doctor, sorry. I've been told in no uncertain terms that you are the expert, so we will do what you say and will continue to do so once you are back here, safe and sound. We really need that vaccine. Once we have it, we can start fighting back, reclaim some territory.”

“Like we said, we should be back before nightfall,” Jon added. “I hope to be airborne not long after sixteen hundred hours. I want to get out of Dodge as fast as we can.”

“How long will the manufacture of the vaccine take, Doctor?” Snyder's eyes hadn't wavered from hers.

She hated being asked questions she didn't have a solid answer to. “That depends. I'm sorry to be vague but it depends. I've been told by Dr. Connolly—”

“Ross,” Elle interrupted and turned bright red.

Sophie blinked. “I'm sorry?”

Elle nestled her head against the tall dark man who hadn't left her side. “I'm Elle Ross now, Soph.” She looked up at the man standing next to her and simply glowed. “We got married last night. There's a nondenominational preacher here and we—we tied the knot.”

Sophie brought a hand to her mouth and fought tears. A marriage. Amid all the misery and loss, a happy event. Two people swearing to love and protect each other forever in chaos and destruction. The wedding had been celebrated in what was essentially a refugee camp in the middle of a truly deadly pandemic but—two people had pledged their love to each other.

“Oh Elle . . .” Her voice broke and she took a second to steady it. “I'm so happy for you! A wedding in the middle of all this death. It's wonderful.”

“Thank you, Dr. Daniels,” Nick said with a solemn nod.

“Way to go, Nick,” Jon said quietly.

“Yeah. This changes everything.” Nick's head shifted slightly to look at Jon's image on his hologram. “Make us safe, Jon. Give us a fighting chance to turn this thing around.”

Everyone froze. All of a sudden the background noise swelled, broke, like waves over rock.

Sophie looked around, spooked. Jon put a reassuring arm around her shoulders.

Mac consulted a monitor and spoke. “They're right on top of you, Jon. Boiling over Jones, it looks like there are thousands upon thousands of them. God. Report in when you're ready to leave.”

“Stay safe, Soph.” Elle reached a hand out. Though it looked as if she were touching air, Sophie knew that Elle had instinctively reached out to touch her. She lifted her own hand, and crazily, it felt for a moment as if they were touching. Sophie knew it was a construct of her imagination and yearning, but it made her feel better.

When she'd made that panicked phone call to Elle in the middle of the night before Arka's security got her, Sophie thought that they were both dead. A number of researchers and research subjects had gone missing and she knew she and Elle were next. She'd called Elle even though it was possible that a small delay was just long enough time for her to get caught. But Sophie desperately wanted
someone
to have a fighting chance. In the back of her mind, though, she'd believed they were doomed.

Arka recruited its security from the top levels of the military, paid them well, expected and got expert service. What hope did nerd scientists have against their quasi-military array? But even knowing it was hopeless, she'd had to try to warn her best friend.

And somehow, her best friend had managed to find the love of her life who had come roaring in to rescue her. And Sophie did manage to escape, because Arka's plans backfired disastrously.

So—you never know.

Keep fighting until you die.

The hologram winked off and it was as if an energy source had winked off as well. While they'd been talking, it was easy to imagine that they, too, were in a safe place surrounded by friends, or in Sophie's case, friend. Well, Catherine Young looked like the kind of woman who could become a friend too.

But with the hologram off, she and Jon were alone, marooned in a sea of infected, far from safety.

She shivered.

Jon put a heavy arm around her shoulders, and without thinking, without speaking, Sophie leaned into him. This was comfort at a very primitive level, but they'd been reduced to a primordial existence. Sophie rolled her head into the crook of his shoulder. Embracing a tall man could be awkward, but not with Jon. They seemed to fit together, instinctively.

He pulled her more tightly against him, arms around her back, and she felt his lips move against her hair. A kiss, perhaps.

“I'm not going to lie, Sophie, and say it will be easy, but we'll get out of here. You have my word.”

Words were empty, only facts counted. That was the bedrock of Sophie's existence as a scientist. Facts came first, then the descriptive words. So she shouldn't feel comforted, but she did.

Jon clearly was a man who knew how to handle himself. If there was even the faintest hope of getting out of San Francisco alive and to this Haven, Jon could do it.

She couldn't, on her own. Not in a million years. She rested her forehead against his strong shoulder. “We have to,” she murmured. “They're counting on us.”

His arms tightened and she felt his chest expand to say something, but then the distant booming noise swelled, echoed around the streets. A frightening terrifying sound, so horrible she was frozen with panic for a moment. She couldn't do panic. People were counting on her.