The Amygdala Syndrome (Book 1): Unstable Page 15

  “Lady, I’m telling you now. If you don’t move ass…”

  She jumped and Brody hopped into the RV expecting her to follow but as she staggered to get her footing, four of the infected rushed her. Brody unloaded one round taking out one of them but then he was out of ammo. By the time he released the mag and loaded another one in, it was too late. They had dived on her and the child and she disappeared below the angry mob. His stomach dropped as he slammed the door on the RV closed and Gottman tore out of there. The dull sound of people being hit by the RV and the bump as wheels rolled over them was sickening. All he could think about was that poor mother and her child. What if they hadn’t been infected? He pushed the thought from his mind and made his way to the front and slumped into the passenger seat. Gottman navigated to the far end of the lot, and swerved in front of the tree line where Sorenson and the others were waiting. Brody opened the door and they piled in. He cast a glance back at the rec room in the distance and saw only flames licking up into the night sky.

  Not everyone could be saved.

  Before the infected man could attack Chad, a single bullet from Emerick’s rifle exploded his skull. Chad scrambled to his feet just as several more infected crashed through the gym doors. “Move it!” Emerick yelled before unleashing round after round to hold them at bay. Chad clasped the rope and began to climb. The muscles in his arms burned like fire. Instantly, his thoughts went back to boot camp. He’d never been too good at the obstacle course, and many times his buddies had to help him over the wall, but now he was ascending that rope like a monkey. Below, the maniacs that had managed to elude Emerick’s shots gave chase, clambering up the rope behind him. Chad glanced down for a second then kept going. He was nearly at the top when he felt a hand clasp his boot. He peered down to find a young kid hanging on for dear life. He yanked his leg free and then drove his heel hard into the kid’s face, knocking him off the rope. His body hit the ground, taking out some of the others that had crowded and were in pursuit. As soon as he made it onto the wide beam he scuttled along the top with all the prowess of a cougar. It was only when he reached the window and Emerick extended a hand to pull him up did he look back and see the aftermath. One quick tug and he was safe. He hit the roof and rolled onto his back breathing hard while Emerick continued to take out those who had made it onto the steel beam.

  “Save your bullets,” Chad said. “We’re going to need every one of them.”

  While Emerick was covering Chad, Nick had been scanning the perimeter and trying to find a safe way off. A large abandoned yellow school bus was parked near the south side, its doors partly open as if the military had considered using it but at the last moment opted out. While it might not be operational, its proximity to the school meant they could easily scale down one of the drainpipes and launch themselves onto the top. He hurried back, scaling up the structure of one side of the school to find Emerick and Chad making their way over to him.

  “You survived,” he said acting surprised.

  “Barely,” Emerick said casting a glance at Chad. “What have you found?”

  He brought them up to speed and they went over to the lip of the school and took a look for themselves. “Anyone in that?” Emerick asked.

  “Looks empty to me. Haven’t seen any movement,” Nick said.

  Chad kept looking over his shoulder as if expecting to see more of those lunatics.

  “What do you say?” Nick asked.

  “We don’t have much choice. Though I wish I knew where Angela went.”

  “You told her to get out of there if they encountered trouble. She’s probably long gone by now.”

  “Great,” Emerick said climbing over the lip and testing out the strength of the drainpipe. He gave it a good shake. “Seems secure enough. Let’s do this.”

  One at time they climbed down and hopped onto the bus. They stayed low and scanned for movement. There were a few silhouettes of people going in and out of the school but beyond that the coast seemed clear. Nick went to the front end and peered over the edge into the bus. It was dark inside but it looked good. He was hoping to see if there were any keys inside but unless one of them risked entering they wouldn’t be able to tell. “Look, I’m gonna go down.”

  “No, you’ll stay here,” Emerick said.

  “I’m not a kid.”

  “I think your father would differ,” he replied. “Besides, if there’s no keys in there I don’t think you know how to hot-wire a car, now do you?”

  “Actually I do.”

  He chuckled then stared blankly at him. “Kid, I’ve been alive long enough to learn a thing or two but you’re telling me you know how to start this beast?”

  Nick nodded.

  Emerick looked at Chad for moral support but he wasn’t getting it.

  Chad remained quiet observing his surroundings. He looked comfortable with a rifle in hand. Realizing Emerick had few options, Nick took over the situation. “All right. If you see anyone, and I mean anyone, approach this bus, take them out. Do you understand? As soon as I’m inside I will shut the doors and check the ignition. It’s going to take me a few minutes to get this sucker started if I have to hot-wire.”

  “I don’t even want to know how you learned,” Emerick replied as Nick prepared to slide down the front of the bus and go in the side. They did one last check before he gave a nod and quickly slid down the hood and onto the ground. Within less than twenty seconds he was inside the bus. He twisted and closed the main doors before pulling out his phone and turning on the flashlight portion. He shone it down the aisle and swallowed hard before sliding into the driver’s seat and checking. Oh, great. No keys.

  Now he wasn’t lying when he said he knew how to hot-wire. A close buddy of his old man had shown him a few summers back on a ’67 Chevy. But that was an old beast, a car, not a bus and certainly not a modern one. Still, how hard could it be? He heard Emerick ask if he was okay. He went over to the doors and yelled up, “Yeah. Just watch my back.”

  Nick went to work.

  One of the things that struck him when he was shown was that it was nothing like the movies. They’d always made it look so easy. Tear out a bottom portion below the steering wheel, snap wires and twist together and bingo you’d be up and running. Nope. When he was shown, the guy had used a hammer, a flathead screwdriver, a Phillips screwdriver, insulated gloves, insulated tape, wire cutters and strippers. He had none of that shit. So he was working on a prayer and winging it.

  He got down beneath the wheel. It stunk like old farts, and grease. Grime covered his hands immediately as he shone the light underneath and tried to figure out what he was dealing with. Originally his father’s pal had pounded a flathead screwdriver into the ignition and turned it like a key. That alone could often make a vehicle start if it was an old model. Beyond that it required removing the panels from above and below the steering column. Once the plastic panels were removed, the ignition cylinder was exposed along with the wires running to it. From there he had to identify the battery and starter wires which was usually easy to figure out as the two red wires handled power and the brown ones dealt with the starter. Next came putting insulated gloves on, cutting the power wires, stripping the ends and twisting together. At this point the lights, radio and other items in the car would switch on. Then it was a case of doing the same with the brown ones. The tricky part was doing it without gloves, which meant potentially exposing himself to a live current that would shock him. Once the two ends were touched, the car would start, and then the key was to tape the ends to avoid getting shocked while driving. Right now he would just be glad to get the damn panel off. He was yanking hard on it but it wouldn’t budge. He got up and went over to the doors, pulled the handle to open them and then called up. “Chad. You got a knife?”

  “What?” Emerick said. “I thought you knew how to do this?”

  Nick ignored him. “Chad?”

  A second later a blade dropped and Nick scooped it up. He closed the doors and returned, this time
armed to rip that sucker off and get it started. He squeezed back into the spot and dug the tip of the blade in and jiggled it around until he snapped the plastic away from the screws and the panel dropped. There before him were all the wires. “All right. You can do this. How hard can this be?”

  As he began to shine the light on the wires and figure out which wire was which, he heard movement in the back of the bus. He stopped and listened. Nothing. He continued then heard a shuffle again. He thought it was Chad or Emerick moving around on the top but when it happened a third time it was clear it was coming from inside.

  Chapter 19

  Lynch had been at the temporary FEMA camp located somewhere between Fort Davis and Alpine, just east of Highway 118, when she got word of the breach. She’d been waiting on the students arriving from Marfa when the call came in. Major Tim Brown who was on scene at the time contacted her by way of a secure line. He was yelling, and the sound of a chopper could be heard nearby. “It’s out of control.”

  “What?” Lynch replied as she rose from a table where she’d been briefed about several incidents further afield. One of her biggest fears was that it had spread before they’d arrived, or that someone would escape before they could implement a cordon sanitaire. Tim’s voice kept cutting in and out. It didn’t help that he was shouting orders to some soldiers at the same time he was on the phone with her. But it was what followed next that worried her. The sound of a rapid succession of gunfire and the cries of men.

  “Major. What the hell is going on?” she yelled pacing back and forth in a makeshift tent. It was one of many inside a fenced perimeter currently being patrolled by armed guards. The line went dead. She tried to get him back on the phone but he never picked up. She had several contacts in Marfa and in Alpine — different soldiers that were overseeing checkpoints. She tried them but got no answer. Lynch went over to the door.

  “Private Johnson.”

  A young guy with buzz cut hair, and a bounce to his step hurried over. “Yes, colonel?”

  “Find Lieutenant Mosley.”

  He saluted and shot off. Mosley was in charge of overseeing the work at the FEMA camp. If there was a shit situation that the US military was behind, he was one of the crew sent in to clean it up. He was also in contact with a team that was in Marfa. Lynch didn’t want to get too worried. It wasn’t the first time she’d heard gunfire. Since this had kicked off they’d all had several close brushes with death. It was the nature of the work they were in. While she rarely was on the front line, dealing with immediate threats, the major was. His track record in the military, four tours overseas and medals of honor, was the reason they had worked together for the past eleven years. She handled logistics, he handled enforcement.

  She made her way back into the tent and resumed her position at the desk, looking at the recent update on her laptop that had come in from hospitals in the Texas region, and farther afield. FEMA and the World Health Organization were monitoring anyone who showed up in emergency rooms for symptoms related to the amygdala syndrome. Within a span of two days they had seen nine incidents, two potential fatalities and four people showing symptoms within four different states. They had managed to contain the infected and clear those who came in contact with them but that didn’t mean it hadn’t spread further. The thought of it going nationwide, or worse, global, was horrifying. If they didn’t manage to reel this in and fast, the media would soon be all over it, fear would spread and it would be out of their control.

  “You wanted to see me, colonel?”

  She glanced up to see Mosley standing in the entranceway. He was an overbearing, barrel chested man with a scar across his left eye. She’d never asked him how he got it but figured it was one of many battle scars. He smelled like cheap cologne and had this gaze that made her feel uneasy.

  “When was your last update from Marfa?” she asked.

  “Several hours ago. They were making preparations to board the infected onto buses and escort them here.”

  “Get them on the line.”

  His brow furrowed but he didn’t question it. He retrieved a satellite phone from a pocket on his chest and made the attempt. The sound of static played out, then a desperate voice. “Lieutenant, we had a breach.”

  As soon as Lynch heard that her stomach sank.

  “Where are you?” Mosley asked.

  The soldier continued, “We were unable to leave town, our platoon has been attacked. Fires are raging here, and we are seeking cover in the Palace Theater. We need backup. This is spreading fast.”

  “Roger that.”

  Mosley glanced at Lynch and she placed a hand against her forehead.

  “We can handle this,” he said as if that was reassuring.

  “And if you can’t? Do you know the firestorm this will cause? The president is expecting good news. Now I have to tell him that we might have a nationwide pandemic on our hands.”

  “The upside is that it kills the infected within seventy-two hours.”

  Her eyebrows shot up. “Oh, well that’s great then. Let’s just sit back on our laurels and wait for the nation to die out, shall we?”

  Mosley sighed and looked around the small enclosure. It wasn’t much, just a military-issued cot for a bed, a desk and chair and that was it. “We can send in more soldiers.”

  “And risk the chance of them getting infected? No, we have sent in enough. Either your soldiers can deal with this or we will have to look for an alternative.”

  “Alternative?” he asked cocking his head. “You mean…”

  She didn’t want to say it as it was a last resort for worst-case scenarios but if it came down to a few thousand lives vs. seven billion, they would implement it.

  Lynch took a deep breath. “I need to talk to the president and FEMA before we go down that path. In the meantime I want an update every half hour on the situation as it unfolds. Is the perimeter still secure?”

  “I’ll find out.”

  “God I hope so because Alpine sounds like they aren’t faring much better.”

  “The major?”

  “I can’t get through to him.”

  “Ma’am, let me take in a small team to at least assess the situation. Right now we are dealing with unknowns and little information.”

  “How about you start with a drone? A team goes in only if you can come up with a solution that will save our troops. I’m not having any suicide missions. I’m already taking the full brunt of this. It’s a complete mess.”

  A shot of cold fear went through Nick as he crawled out from underneath the steering column and peered down the aisle. He reached for the Glock and squeezed it tight, a lump forming in his throat. “Whoever is there you better come out.”

  There was no response.

  He considered leaving the bus but maybe it was just his imagination playing tricks on him. Since this whole thing had kicked off, his senses were heightened and his mind had gone into overdrive thinking that even the slightest sound was a threat. He swallowed hard as he slowly walked from the front to the back of the bus, turning and raking the barrel of the gun from the left to right in quick succession.

  “This is your last chance.”

  Still nothing.

  The hairs on his arms rose. It felt like he was living inside his own horror movie. With every step he could feel fear creeping up in his chest causing his mouth to go dry, and his palms to sweat.

  By the time he made it to the last four rows of seats he had convinced himself that the noise was nothing more than a concoction of a runaway mind. That was until he saw him cowering, his face hidden by darkness. His body was shaking. Words spilled out. “Please. Please. Don’t shoot.”

  “Jasper?” Nick frowned. “Jasper McDermott?”

  The boy looked up at him as Nick took out his cell and cast the glow of its light over his face. Jasper was a short, pudgy guy, with cropped ginger hair, the kind of kid that had few friends, kept to himself but was exceptionally smart. He wore a pair of glasses that always looked t
wo sizes too small for him, and his clothes looked like they’d been pulled out of a bargain bin at a thrift store. When he’d pass him in class, he’d always remember him smelling like mothballs. The little that he knew about him came from a talk he gave in school about how he spent his summer. While other kids talked about going on vacations, or hanging out at the mall, or gaming, he would talk about studying and helping his father who was a scientist. Although a few of the kids would chuckle when he spoke, Nick couldn’t help but be intrigued.

  “How the hell did you get out?”

  “They led us out to the buses, and I rolled underneath when someone was giving the soldiers trouble.”

  Nick smiled then it faded as he began to think about the infected. “Have you been in contact with anyone who’s infected?”

  He shook his head. As much as he wanted to believe him, he didn’t want to risk his life so he took a few steps back. “Get up,” he said keeping the gun on him.

  “Are you going to kill me?”

  “I want to see you.”

  He took a few more steps back as Jasper rose and squeezed out into the aisle. Nick shone the light directly in his eyes causing him to squint and blink hard. His skin looked normal, eyes fine. Nick frowned.

  “How long have you been in here?”

  “However long it’s been since they began loading us onto buses.”

  “So you saw it all play out. The breakdown?”

  “I didn’t see it. I heard it. I haven’t been on this bus the whole time. I managed to hide back in the school for a while but then I ran in to a few of those things.”