Carlie Simmons (Book 2): In Too Deep by JT Sawyer Page A

a terrorist
attack. On this one, we’re still in the dark.”
    “How does the virus move so fast—is
biting the main disease vector?” said Amy.
    “I suspect that this began as an
airborne disease and then must have mutated quickly to spread through oral
contact from biting. This is the most common way of transmission now but you
can also get it from contact with the blood on, say, an open cut or wound, much
like any other infectious disease. The virus turns the living into, for lack of
a better saying, knife-edge walkers—they’re not dead but they certainly aren’t
alive in the sense of the person we once knew.” He glanced around the cavernous
room where his staff was frantically working. “This lab was set up very quickly
and we’ve only had a day of solid analysis behind us along with collating data
from our colleagues around the world. We have a few of the creatures contained
in a cell in a lower level in this facility and those have provided fresh blood
samples but the complete analysis is not in yet.” He paused to crack a knuckle
on his index finger. “What I can tell you is that the brain tissue samples I’ve
examined indicate that the victim’s frontal lobe becomes scrambled, thus
erasing their personality. This is the part of the brain responsible for
reasoning, cognition, and language. Only the more primal limbic system and
predatory drive is left intact. The interesting thing is that the nervous
system is enhanced—you probably witnessed the speed at which the creatures can
move and their raw aggressiveness.”
    “Professor Beauchard, who was with us in
Tucson and is now in your employ, indicated that the facial sagging and yellow
skin color may be connected with a form of stroke,” said Carlie.
    “Now, that’s the puzzling piece of this
whole thing—the original Russian virus didn’t indicate anything about that
side-effect. This could be a modification that was added in recently or an
unexpected outcome from fucking with nature.”
    “OK, so far I’m with you,” said Carlie.
“But I saw a creature in Tucson, as well as outside the base here, that moved
and acted differently than the others. It had a bold, purposeful stride and an
almost alpha-dog appearance compared to the others.”
    “Hmm,” Efron said, running his hand
through his silver hair. “You’re one of a handful of people to relay such a
sighting to me. Honestly, I don’t know. Perhaps its frontal lobe was less
damaged than the rest of the creatures or it has an increased oxygen and blood
flow rate—I just don’t have enough data to help you at this point.”
    “So, onto practical matters, Doc,” said
Shane. “It’s all headshots or whacking off their domes that’ll save our asses
on the battlefield, right?”
    “That and taking advantage of the night
as their eyesight seems to be hampered after sundown. It looks like we no
longer own the daylight.”
    “At least for today—tomorrow is another
story,” Shane said, tucking his hands into his beltline.
    “So what do we call these things—the
undead, zombies, mutants or what?” said Amy.
    “How about flesh robbers or pickle-faced
goons?” said Jared with a grin.
    “Calling ’em ‘Tangos’ works for me,”
said Shane.
    “Very Argentinian of you—except that that
doesn’t distinguish them from the other living and breathing bad guys roaming
the streets,” said Jared.
    “Bad guys that are livin’ or dead both
need killing,” said Shane.
    Jared grinned. “Wait a minute—what about
‘tango undead mutants’ or ‘TUMs’ for short? How does that suit you, Sheriff?”
    “I’m gonna need a roll of Tums when
we’re done here. I’m already feeling queasy just standing this close to you,”
said Shane.
    “We can assign a practical name later,”
said Carlie. “We’ve got a plane to catch in one hour so do any last-minute gear
checks, grab some chow, and let’s rendezvous at the rear hangar at exactly 0500.”

 
    Chapter 12
     
    The Island of