The Night Sweeper: A Zombie Conspiracy Novel (The Sweeper Chronicles Book 1) (11 page)

We fly for a couple of hours before I see an island in the distance.
The
island. At first, it’s nothing more than a smear on the horizon, an indistinguishable cropping of green. As we draw nearer, it begins to take shape. Trees rise from the undulating landscape, the foliage thick and lush and beautiful. As we get closer, the plane angles in and begins circling the island in wide loops. I imagine the pilot is looking for a place to land.

As if on cue, we circle to the southern tip of the island where an air field cuts across the shore. Several small buildings and towers dot the beach, nothing impressive, but they all look to be in fair condition. The runway looks good as well. There’s no considerable deterioration. An enormous fence separates the airfield from the encroaching jungle. Lookout towers stand at regular intervals along the fence line, twenty or thirty feet in from the fence itself. I scowl. That seems bothersome.

I look over at Cray. He’s staring past me through my window, taking in the island. If he’s nervous, it doesn’t show. I on the other hand, feel jittery.

I notice movement out of the corner of my eye, and Johnson walks up to us, placing his meaty hands on the backs of the seats on either side of the aisle to steady himself. Cray looks at him calmly.

“This is it,” Johnson says. “This is where the coordinates lead.” He seems genuinely excited.

“What do you expect to find?” Cray says.

Johnson’s brows furrow. “What do you mean? The cure.”

“Right,” Cray says. “But, I mean, this all feels a bit abrupt to me. What if it’s dangerous?”

A touch of irritation creeps into Johnson’s expression. He works to control it, but it’s there.

“It’s an island, Cray. Nothing we can’t handle. I understand your reservations, but this is important, and I sure could use your help once we land. Maybe that brilliant mind of yours can help us figure out where to look and what exactly we’re looking for.”

Across the aisle, Cray clears his throat and looks at Johnson with cold eyes. “No.”

Johnson’s smile falters a little before he regains his composure. “What do you mean no?”

“I’m not doing anything until I talk with Archer. Frankly, I’m surprised he would choose to rush into this and I’d really like to hear it from him myself.”

Johnson returns Cray’s stare icily, his smile completely gone now, and I can almost feel the friction between them. “I have seniority on this mission. Don’t you trust me?”

Cray doesn’t blink an eye. “I don’t recall anyone ever putting you in charge. And no, I don’t trust you. You should know that Jonathan Harbin told me more than what I’ve given you so far. You’re right about needing me to find that cure, but unless you let me clear it with Archer, I won’t cooperate, slick.”

Johnson’s face turns blood red and his eyes almost bulge out of their sockets, his hands clenching into fists. A little prickling sensation moves up my spine and I have a feeling things are about to get ugly.

“What’s it gonna be?” Cray says. “Are you going to play nice?”

I can tell Johnson is about to bust a gut from having been called out, but as quickly as that, his face turns calm, and in that moment, I see him for the dangerous man he is. He looks briefly towards the back of the plane, an innocuous enough movement, but moments later two armed soldiers are standing close behind us. Johnson smirks.

“I’ll tell you what, Vamp. I think you’re going to help me find that cure whether you like it or not.”

Cray sits, motionless. “And what makes you so sure of that?”

Johnson laughs coldly. “It’s a simple matter of leverage.” In a flash, Johnson raises his hand, now holding a gun, and fires a slug into my right thigh.

I’m unprepared and pain sears through my leg like a hot iron, my flesh ripping. I scream and double over, cradling the wound between my hands, hot blood streaming from the hole. Several seconds pass before I can regain my composure and shut off the pain.

Cray rises, shock and fury written across his features, but Johnson puts up a hand warning him away, his other hand still training the gun on me. “Not so fast, punk. The next one will be somewhere more vital. Just have a seat and we’ll continue our discussion.”

Cray sits again, his teeth gritted in rage, his eyes glaring like a caged animal.

The plane banks and heads over the northern shore, the trees spreading beneath us. The pilot is on approach for landing.

I have a fleeting, insane idea, and with no time to examine all of our options, I react.

Even as warm blood soaks through my pants, I spring with all the speed I can muster, my left hand snapping out and knocking away Johnson’s gun while my right fist catches him in the jaw. He’s unaware of my speed and strength and is caught off guard, his gaze still turned towards Cray. I feel the satisfying crunch of his jaw cracking under my blow, but I don’t have time to relish the feeling.

I’m already turning where Cray has taken my lead and the two guards that were behind him are busy having their butts handed to them. Johnson is screaming for the other soldiers as he pulls himself between two seats and out of the direct line of fire.

From the front of the plane, three more soldiers move in our direction, squeezing down the aisle, weapons drawn.

“Cray, take them,” I scream. He glides past me and executes a perfect front roll. When he comes up, he’s holding Johnson’s gun and puts a bullet in the first guard’s head. The two behind him jump behind seats like Johnson.

I charge into the rear storage compartment and rummage as fast as I can through the supplies. I find what I’m looking for, but my heart sinks. One parachute! Just one? What did these idiots plan to do if something happened and they were going down?

I wiggle into it as fast as possible and race back into the cabin, ducking behind a seat as a bullet smacks into the bulkhead behind me. Cray and the guards are at a standoff, both crouching behind seats like me. This had better work! I bite back my fear and charge across the aisle, kicking at the rear hatch as hard as I can. Even with my senses to the area shut down, the impact is so jarring that I feel a fresh wave of agony arc through my body from the bullet wound still bleeding profusely from my thigh. I can only pray I’m not losing blood too fast.

The kick lands perfectly and the door to the plane sheers off with a metallic screech. Air rushes through the opening as the cabin pressure changes. Cray turns at the commotion, and the guards take advantage of his distraction to fire off a few rounds. I fall forward back into the aisle as the bullets whizz past and reach for Cray’s shirt collar with my right hand, my left gripping the edge of the open hatch. I yank him hard towards me and use his momentum to keep us moving. I see the recognition in his eyes as he connects the dots, and he begins to scream just about the time we roll out into nothingness.

The world spins and I struggle to steady us while not losing my grip on Cray. He understands in a heartbeat and begins working with me to correct our roll.

It takes several long seconds. Time is ticking. Time we don’t have!

The treetops race toward us like missiles. We have mere moments.

God help us! There's no time to try to secure him to myself. He arches towards me and tries to grab my free hand, but the movement pulls his shirt from my fingers and he starts to spin. We both know we’re out of time. I lunge for him, desperate to get a grip, a handhold, anywhere.

My fingers find purchase on his belt…the world is coming too fast…I wrap my fingers under the waistband of his pants…all I can think is that this is really going to hurt and I hope I can hang on…I pull the ripcord!

The chute snaps open above me. Just as I expected, the pain is extreme. I grip his trousers with all of my strength, but the sudden stop still nearly rips them from my fingers. It feels like my shoulder’s going to separate from my body, and I scream now from pain instead of fear. I don't have time to try to control it. Our descent is slowed just enough that we hit the tree tops at about thirty miles per hour.

I expect, hope, the chute will get caught up in the trees and slow us down, but today isn't our day. The branches lash at us like whips, and Cray is torn from my grip as we tumble through the limbs. They slow us just enough to keep our landing from being fatal, but we still hit the ground going way too fast and the impact jars my bones. I'm hurting all over, from my leg, my shoulder, and a dozen cuts and scrapes from the trees. With enough distraction, my ability to control pain wanes, and right now, my body is very angry with me. But we’re alive and out of immediate danger. I hope.

From a few feet away, Cray voices what I'm thinking. "Oww," he groans. "Remind me not to leave you in charge of tactical planning anymore."

I roll over and look above me to see the chute, a tangled mess of chords and material. It’s ripped and shredded and looks a lot like I feel. And it’s hanging from the lowest branch.
Thanks for nothing!

I breathe in deeply, will the pain to fade from my awareness, and then struggle out of the twisted harness. I can still feel warm blood flowing down my leg and know I have to do something about that soon, but for now, I crawl over to Cray and examine him.

"Are you okay?" I ask.

"Oh, sure, I'm great. Better than ever,” he says through gritted teeth. He cradles his ribs with one arm, and his other hand grips his groin. “You’re completely nuts by the way. And just so you know, I may never be able to have kids now.”

I laugh, but only for a second.

“We have to move, Cray.”

“The airfield is miles away he says,” sitting up with a groan. “Johnson said he's a good tracker, but no matter how good he is, it won't be easy finding us in this jungle.”

“That's not what I mean.” I reach down and rip the bullet hole in my pants wider.

“What are you doing?” Cray says.

“I have to get that bullet out.”

He starts to say something, but stops when I plunge my thumb and index finger into the wound. They're instantly covered with hot blood, slimy and slick. I dig, but don't feel the slug. I'm going to have to let the sensation return to the wound long enough to try to feel where the bullet is. I prepare myself and clench my teeth.

Closing my eyes, I allow the feeling to return. The agony sets in immediately, and though I try to hold it in, a whimper escapes me. But I can sense where the bullet is. Allowing the pain to again fade, I angle my fingers towards the area, relieved when my index finger touches the misshapen metal. I release a sigh, breathing steadily again now that the pain is gone, and give a final push to grip the bullet.

Cray is standing now, a look of confused terror on his face as I pull the bullet from my thigh and toss it to the side without a second look.

“You...you barely made a sound. Not even a grimace,” he stammers.

“I know,” I say. “I can turn off pain.”

I rip one of the sleeves from my shirt and make a tight tourniquet around my leg. The wound will begin to close soon enough.

“Of
course
you can control pain,” he says, incredulous. “Why not?”

“Look, I know I owe you a huge explanation, but we don't have time for that right now. We have to move, and not because of Johnson.”

“Then why?”

“Because if what I know about this place is true, we may have just jumped out of the frying pan into the fire.”

“What?!”

“Later. Let’s go.”

We move through the dense jungle, our going arduous without tools to cut our way through the thick undergrowth. The heat and humidity are oppressive, and after a few minutes, we look like we've been dunked in a river. The jungle smells of mold and vegetation, and steam surrounds our feet as we trudge on, careful not to trip on roots and ferns.

Our first order of business is to find shelter, but finding fresh water would be nice too. Currently, that’s leading us deeper into the jungle and higher ground. Cray picked up on the sound long before I could with his finely attuned hearing, and we’ve been moving in the direction he indicated.

It's not long before I too can hear the crashing flow of a river not far ahead. Hopefully we can also use the high ground to get a better idea where we are and what surrounds us.

All around, the jungle is alive. It teems with all manner of creatures skittering and snaking and chirping.

“It's a very dangerous place, Mira.” Eckert's words keep resounding in my head.
Dangerous place. Dangerous place.
That could mean anything. And I have no way of knowing what horror could be waiting around the next tree trunk. Adrenaline courses through my body, and before long, my nerves are shot. Every little sound becomes something from my worst imaginations.

If Cray feels the same, it doesn't show. He probably doesn't. He knows nothing of this place, and he's confident in his ability to take care of himself. Ignorance is bliss.

I would feel better if we had a weapon, but the gun Cray took was out of ammo. He dropped it when I dragged him out of the plane. Or maybe he just
says
it was out of ammo, and he dropped it
because
I dragged him out of the plane. Either way, it's gone.

After a considerable time, we come to the border of a huge clearing, and I see the river cutting through the landscape. It’s beautiful, cascading over boulders and rocks after dropping from an enormous waterfall. In any other setting it would be breathtaking, but it barely draws a glance from us due to the other object sitting in its path. Cray curses low under his breath, and I stand there with my mouth hanging open.

Downstream from the waterfall is a massive, sprawling, steel and glass dome at least a hundred yards in length. The river flows into one side of it and out the other. Heavy vines wind around and over the edifice, giving it the appearance that it sprang up from the ground and camouflaged itself in the landscape. Cray and I glance at each other, both of us silent and alert, and approach the building slowly. There’s no one visible from here, but we still move in with caution.

The structure is fascinating. All around the sides, the lowest starting about fifty feet off the ground, panels have been removed. In their place are decks constructed of wood and other random materials. They appear to be lookout posts. Here and there, ropes and crude walkways lead out to platforms fixed in the trees. Spaced out evenly in a large circle surrounding the structure are old torches, roughly ten feet tall, many of which have fallen over and lie on the jungle floor. It's an odd mix of modern-looking technology and primitive construction.

Cray takes point as we move ahead, and points towards a dark opening to the right side of the building. I nod, and we slink in that direction, eyes and ears scanning for anything out of the ordinary. The place doesn't appear to be inhabited, but it’s enormous, and there's no way to know for sure without exploring it. We both know without having to say it out loud that it could provide shelter. We also might find some supplies inside.

I keep walking, not sure what bothers me more, the fact that this incongruent structure is here in the middle of the jungle, or that the occupants felt the need to fortify it. Fortify it from what or who? I have a feeling I may not like the answer.

No sooner has the thought crossed my mind, than Cray freezes and holds up a hand for me to do the same. I haven’t noticed anything, but his senses are sharper than mine. All of the dread I've been feeling since we hit the ground compounds itself and settles into my stomach.

We make eye contact and he gives a small nod behind us. I turn my eyes slowly in the direction he indicates, but we’re not far into the clearing, and the jungle is so thick and the undergrowth so heavy that I don’t see anything. I strain my ears and eyes for movement, anything out of place.

Without warning, a huge creature lunges from the growth, its body and thick fur striped orange and black, giant fangs bared. It looks like a tiger, but it has to be the size of a horse. It’s the biggest cat I’ve ever seen.

Cray moves like a streak as I do the same in the opposite direction, the predator flashing between us where we had been standing only milliseconds before. I roll into a crouch facing the beast which has turned and is staring us down from thirty feet away.

To my left, Cray stands cradling his injured ribs and I notice blood coming from his back where the animal’s claws must have raked across it. The creature makes a deep sound in its throat and shows its canines. It could spring any second.

I don’t know what the animal is waiting on, but I decide to make the first move. Turning, I sprint as fast as I can in the other direction, hoping to draw it away from Cray and give him time to recover. The predator’s instincts must kick in because it charges after me. I throw myself at the nearest tree, the animal’s soft pads barely making noise as it chases me down. I spring as high as I can onto the tree trunk, making two quick steps up the bark before pushing off into a back flip that takes me out and over the attacking animal as it tries to charge up the trunk after me before sliding back down to the ground.

My landing is terrible. My feet barely touch the ground and my momentum slams me onto my back knocking the breath out of me, but Cray is ready now and is standing with something in his right hand. Even as the tiger turns back towards me, he rears back and throws a heavy rock with all of the force he can muster, grunting at the pain it causes him. Thanks to his impeccable aim, the rock slams into the tiger’s left eye, knocking its head to the side and eliciting a roar of pain.

The animal shakes his head and charges Cray, but this time he’s ready. He moves unbelievably fast and at the last second spins away from the tiger’s charge, the animal missing him by inches. As he spins, he slams both hands into the animal’s shoulder. The blow, combined with the animial’s momentum, knocks it off balance enough to send it sprawling.

There’s no time to rationalize. There's only survival. I jump onto the beast before it can rise, trying to get my arms around its neck, but it rolls and spins so quickly that I find myself underneath it, its jaws lunging for my neck, its massive body crushing down on me.

I throw up my arms out of reflex, catching it just under the chin to deflect the bite coming at my face. I can hear Cray charging and screaming. The beast is distracted by him for just a moment and I reach up, throw my hands between his teeth and pull in opposite directions harder than I’ve ever tried to do anything in my life. The tiger makes a sickening sound as its jaws break, stretched beyond their limits, and it slides off of me, pawing at its injured face. Shock and pain flash through the killer's eyes, but he's not done yet.

He charges at me again, but before I can move, Cray comes out of nowhere, a long torch pole in his hand, the end from the ground sharpened to a point. The makeshift spear plunges deep into the tiger's pelt behind his front leg and knocks it onto its side.

I race forward, barely dodging a swipe of one of the creature's gigantic paws, and swing my fist into its head like a hammer. Pain flares from my hand, up my arm, to my shoulder, but the creature slumps, unconscious. I stagger backwards as Cray pulls the spear from the animal and stabs it again and again until it's no longer breathing.

I stand over its limp body, my breath coming in ragged gasps, my hands bleeding from several deep gashes where I pulled against its teeth. My arm aches from the impact, but I don't think anything is broken. Cray comes over and puts a hand on my shoulder.

“Are you okay?” he asks softly.

“I’ll be fine. What about you?”

I turn to him. His breathing is worse than mine, and he holds his side with both hands. He’s doesn’t say so, but I know he’s in terrible pain.

“We need to get to shelter, and then we can worry about injuries,” he says through gritted teeth. “I’ll be okay until then. I don't want to meet any more of the wildlife.”

We stare for a moment longer at the unreal beast in front of us, then turn and make our way carefully towards the structure and the hope of shelter. Our nightmare seems to have only just begun, and neither of us are looking too good.

I run a bloody hand through my tangled hair.

Welcome home, Mira.