Breaking Danger Read online

  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 sw
elled, 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.

  She pushed away from him and looked up at his face. “They’re here.”

  He nodded grimly.

  Sophie pushed a panic that was primordial, instinctive, away from her. She gathered calm around her as if it were her white lab coat. She straightened her shoulders, took a deep breath. She was a scientist, and had to function as one if they were going to get out of this alive. “Does your scanner have recording functions? Voice and video?”

  Jon had stepped back, too, watching her carefully, taking his cues from her. “Yes,” he answered.

  “Okay. When they hit Beach Street, I’m going to observe as much of the swarm as I can. So record the scene and record what I say, and we can analyze it all when we get to Haven. I don’t think anyone else will have a trained eye on a swarm going by.”

  He nodded. “Is there anything I can do to make us safe in here?”

  “Well . . .” Sophie reasoned it out. “They are obviously not organized enough to pick locks, but they are strong and have the added strength of numbers. Few make it up stairs, but in case some do, spray more perfume around the door and erect a barricade.” She cocked her head, listening. “I think we have a few minutes still.”

  Jon moved fast. In a few moments, he’d sprayed not only perfume but squeezed lemons around the door sill and crushed cloves of garlic. Then he’d easily moved her immensely heavy Italian madia against the door, then shoved her steel-reinforced Poltrona Frau sofa against it. He’d just slid the sofa tightly against the madia when the noise rose to an unbearable crescendo.

  Sophie met his eyes. “They’re here,” she whispered.

  Mount Blue Haven

  Elle turned away from the holographic monitor, unease in her heart. As always, Nick seemed to have a secret passageway into her thoughts. He held her shoulders in a hard grip.

  “I know you’re worried about your friend, and I won’t bullshit you. They’re in a dangerous position. But trust me when I say she’s got the right guy at her side. If it can be done, Jon will get her out and bring her back to you.”

  She tried a smile. “Back to us. You’re going to love her.” She turned to everyone in the room. “Catherine, you’re going to love her too. Mac . . . I guess the best I can say is that Mac won’t eat her. Probably.”

  Mac gave a low growl.

  Nick’s dark face was usually sober, serious, deep lines bracketing his mouth. He rarely smiled and the lines in his face reflected that. He didn’t exactly smile, but his face lightened for a moment. “Mac’s not that bad. I can’t say his bark is worse than his bite because . . . well it’s not. If you’re on his bad side, you’re toast. But we’re on his good side. And of course if she becomes Catherine’s friend, Mac will be putty in her hands, just as he is in yours.”

  Elle pulled back, the idea so ludicrous it jolted her. She turned to the huge man by Catherine’s side. He was by any measure a frightening-looking man. Tall, huge, badly scarred, always scowling. “Mac, are you putty in my hands?”

  He gave another low growl, offset by his wife’s light laugh. “Certainly.” She patted her husband’s huge shoulder. “He’s a real pussycat.”

  Mac rolled his eyes, but his gaze softened when he looked down at his wife. Mac’s devotion to Catherine was obvious to all, even in the short time Elle had been in Haven. She couldn’t resist. “You mean if I asked him to bring me coffee, he would?”

  “Now, wait a minute,” Mac began, then stopped when his wife elbowed him in the ribs. They were so encased with muscle, he probably didn’t even feel it. “Yes,” he said through his teeth.

  Nick gave a half smile. “Oh yeah. But don’t get too cocky.”

  It wasn’t a laughing moment, but Elle gave a choked laugh. “No.” She shook her head. “I will definitely not get too cocky around Mac.”

  “Okay.” Catherine clapped her hands. “Elle and I need to get back to the infirmary. Let us know when the raid team gets back with the last of the lab equipment, and we’ll get set up for when Jon and Sophie make it back. General, how many more refugees will there be in the next twenty-four hours?”

  “Just call me Snyder, ma’am,” the General said. “We’re in contact with several more communities just in the last hour. We’re setting up a priority list now, based on their supplies and ammo and the number of infected they’re seeing. I reckon we’ll have another two hundred today and maybe four hundred tomorrow.”

  “General—Snyder.” Elle turned to the stocky former general. “Factor into your plans that we could ship cases of vaccine perhaps as soon as thirty-six hours from now. At some point, if we get enough of the population va
ccinated and enough infected die, we might be able to turn the tide. And if we want to have some kind of basis for afterward, we need people protecting production plants and power plants and hospitals.”

  At her words, the men in the room visibly relaxed for a moment. Clearly none of them had thought of an afterward, they were so busy dealing with the present and dangerous emergency.

  “Good thinking, Dr. Connolly—”

  “Dr. Ross,” Nick growled.

  “Dr. Ross. Sorry.” Snyder ran a broad palm over the stubble on his head. “Not thinking straight. But it’s great to know that some people are planning beyond the moment. I’ll pass on the word, give people some hope. Because right now, it’s not looking good.”

  “No,” Elle said softly. It wasn’t looking good. Pandora’s box had been opened and monsters had come out. But there had been something hidden at the bottom of Pandora’s box. Something wonderful.

  Hope.

  Chapter 7

  San Francisco

  Beach Street

  They came in a flood, a bubbling madhouse tide of humanity. At first only five or six infected came running and Sophie let out a pent-up breath. She’d been bracing herself . . .

  And then they came, a solid phalanx of infected, obviously down from Jones, so many they erupted right into Beach and left toward Ghirardelli Square.

  With a raised eyebrow at Jon, Sophie pushed the button that cracked the window open a little, just enough to stick her head out. She pulled her head back in immediately, terrified.

  It was like a river in full spate, spilling over sidewalks, down every single road, rising on the backs of the fallen, some almost reaching the second floor. When the river of infected reached Beach, she closed the window back shut. With the window open, the noise level was almost unbearable, a booming screech that the ear couldn’t correlate to human noise. It was more like a huge piece of broken machinery.