NOW
The ex pushed open the workshop door and looked outside. There were a few soldiers off in the distance, but none close enough to recognize it for what it was. He’d chosen the body because it was less decayed than most of the ex-soldiers, and it had the most complete uniform.
It looked back over its shoulder and had the dead soldiers around the armor adjust their feet. After a bit of shuffling, it was hard to tell one of them had walked away. By the time anyone noticed, it’d be too late.
The ex tugged his headgear down to shade his eyes, stuck his hands in his pants pockets, and tried to whistle as he crossed the road. It took too much effort, so he gave up after a few steps. A soldier at the end of the block turned his way, and he pulled out a hand and gave a quick, casual salute. The soldier gave an acknowledging salute and turned back to his duties.
Just like that, he was across the street. A zombie walking around in broad daylight. He stepped into the shrinking shade of the Tomb.
The main door was still crimped where Cerberus had forced it open the other day, but they’d beaten it back into shape enough for it to lock shut. They were idiots. Locking the door so he couldn’t get out, but they’d typed in the codes right in front of him dozens of times. He knew half the codes and passwords for the whole base.
Stiff fingers tapped the keys. He opened the access door. Inside, he saw himself through one hundred and fifty sets of eyes. A company’s worth of dead soldiers grinned back at him.
He’d wanted to wait a little longer. Shelly and Sorensen had planned to process another three hundred ex-soldiers in the next few months, but who knew if that would happen now. His hopes of getting a few of the super-soldiers infected were fading fast. The damned heroes were messing things up again.
He held out his hand and one of the exes gave him the wadded up paper he’d hidden in its pocket. He crammed it into the door frame so the lock couldn’t engage. They tried the door from both sides, and then he walked down the street to set more of himself free.
* * *
The red light flashed and the door cycled. Doctor Sorensen entered the reactor observation room.
“Good afternoon, sir,” said one of the soldiers. He was a twenty-something man with the name KING sewn on his jacket. Not one of the super-soldiers. “We weren’t expecting you until later today.”
The doctor cleared his throat and brushed at his shirt front. “I decided to shift my schedule around, Sergeant King.”
“Specialist, sir.”
“Yes, of course.” The doctor shuffled into the room and picked up one of the clipboards. “Any problems?”
“Negative, sir,” said the other man. There was a touch of silver at his temples and HARDY over his heart. “Been pretty quiet for the most part. The prisoner got a little agitated a few times, but no problems.”
“He’s not a prisoner,” said Sorensen. “He’s a guest.”
“Of course. Sorry, sir.”
“Agitated how?”
Hardy got up to stand next to Sorensen and they stared at Zzzap through the window. “The guest has been in his energy form the whole time,” said the soldier. “He examined most of the cell. Threw a few more of those lightning bolts. One of them burned out the southern camera and microphone. We offered him lunch about an hour ago but he refused.”
“Said he didn’t like the taste of our sedatives,” added King.
“Has he…” Sorensen paused to tap his fingers against his thumb. “Did he eat anything yesterday?”
“No, sir,” said Hardy. “He also…”
Sorensen flipped the page on the clipboard. “Yes?”
The two soldiers exchanged quick looks. “He’s talking to himself, sir,” said King.
“What do you mean?”
Hardy looked at the glowing wraith through the window. “If we stayed at our stations for a while, sir, two or three hours, I think he’d forget we were in here. And he’d start talking.”
“Talking about what?
The soldier shrugged. “About the fact he’s stuck in the cell. Things he should’ve done. Things he could try.”
“One bit about not being able to touch anything,” added King. “It’s all on the tapes.”
“So he’s thinking out loud,” said the doctor. “Not so unusual, is it?”
“It isn’t like that, sir,” said Hardy. “His phrasing and tone are very distinct. It’s like we’re hearing half a conversation he’s having with someone else.”
“Are you sure he isn’t transmitting to someone?”
“We’ve left the microphone off in here as ordered, sir. He’s had no contact with us, and the Faraday cage is blocking all signals in or out. We’ve even done a few radio checks to be sure.”
King turned his head to gesture at the gauges and the door burst off its hinges. Sorensen stumbled away and covered his ears as it clanged on the floor. Hardy and King drew their sidearms.
“Sorry, doctor,” said St. George. He tossed a piece of smoking circuitry the size of a cereal box on the floor. “You’re taking too long and we don’t have the time.”
“Sir,” shouted King. “Get on your knees and place your hands behind your head.”
“If you start shooting,” the hero said, “odds are someone’s going to get hurt by a ricochet. And it won’t be me. So just put your weapons down.” A few streamers of smoke trailed from his nostrils for emphasis.
The soldiers didn’t budge.
“Fine,” said St. George. “Doctor, get behind me.”
The soldiers were tensing when the shadows in the room shifted. I thought I saw you in here , said Zzzap. He slid the rest of the way through the observation window. About frakking time.
King switched his aim to cover Zzzap. The wraith brushed the pistol with a gleaming fingertip and the weapon’s muzzle flared white hot. I wouldn’t fire that, he warned. Probably blow up in your face .
St. George held his hand out for the other pistol. Hardy resisted for a moment, then surrendered the weapon. The hero took it in both hands, folded it in half, and tossed it back to the soldier.
So, what’ve I missed?
“Shelly’s dead. Peasy’s not. He’s controlling all the exes on the base. Probably all the ones within a few miles if he’s still got the same range.”
There are exes on the base? said the wraith. Really? I didn’t see any.
* * *
They pushed Danielle down the hall. Her foot slipped, she couldn’t shift her weight quick enough, and she stumbled against the wall. She’d studied kinesiology enough to know just how much being handcuffed behind the back could mess up someone’s balance. She would’ve been fine with leaving that as textbook knowledge.
“Look,” she said, “if you’re going to lock me up at least listen to me first.”
The MP jerked her back to her feet and propelled her forward. There were three of them. Two kept her at gunpoint and gave pushes. She recognized the one in the lead as Furber, the lieutenant who’d taken Stealth’s pistols. The civility had dropped a lot since then.
“The Nest units don’t work,” Danielle said. “Every one of these things is smart and they’re your enemy. You’re in serious trouble. We’ve fought this guy before and he’s a murdering psychopath.”
They came to a metal door and a fourth soldier entered a code. The cell slid open an inch with the clack of magnetic locks disengaging. One of the MPs twisted her arms to release the cuffs.
“You’ve got protocols. Follow them. Now!”
They pushed the redhead through the door of the cell and pulled it shut behind her with a clang. One of the soldiers hit the lock button and the magnets kicked back in.
Her muffled voice came though the door. “Don’t I get a phone call or something?”
“Jesus,” muttered one of them, holstering his pistol. “Why can’t she be quiet like the other one?”