coming up. I have a question. And I'm bringing a guest.”
“I'll be waiting.”
The call disconnected, and Trager motioned for me to follow him.
When we got to the lab, Trager swiped his ID card and the door slid open with a hiss. The security measure seemed completely unnecessary given the new state of the island, but I supposed that, as long as there were living people, there would be a threat.
There was a man in a lab coat waiting for us. He looked about early-50's, average size … nondescript. The only thing that really gave him any personality was the fact that I noticed him tapping his pen impatiently against the edge of a table when we walked. Then I noticed him stop immediately when Trager got close.
It wasn't too hard to figure the dynamic here.
The doctor and I shared a quick handshake, then Trager got right down to brass tacks. He told Dr. Vincent what I'd asked about. “W-weapons? Surely you don't think ...”
“Not weapons, Doc. Just something that can be used as one. The nastier, the better.”
“Our purpose is in this research is to advance science and eradicate disease, not take lives.”
He held my gaze for a second before Trager butted in. “Calm down, Vin. It was just a thought.”
“And one I resent.”
I didn't buy it. Now, I wish I had, although I doubt that it would have changed anything in the end. “You're full of shit.”
“I-I beg your pardon?”
I half-expected Trager to say something, but he just watched.
“I remember the guys in the service saying the same thing. Then they got drunk and would say all kinds of different shit. Guys like them … and you … just can't help fiddling around when no one's looking. So quit wasting my time.”
Trager said, “Damn, and I thought I didn't trust people. Vin?”
I remember the look on Vincent's face. He might as well have held up a sign. “Never mind. I'll find it myself.”
Vincent pulled out his key ring. He began flipping through them one by one, thinking. He finally said, “Follow me.”
I had to do something really distasteful: I had to ask Anders for help. The first mission to the gun store was supposed to be precise, a quick in-and-out job. If not for a completely unpredictable turn of events, we would have been fine.
But the subseq uent missions?
Those were going to require a lot of killing.
I couldn't think of anyone better to indiscriminately slaughter what used to be the inhabitants of The Whale.
I knocked on his door. When he answered, I wasn't sure if he was surprised or not. What I was sure of was that he'd grown to dislike me a hell of a lot in a short time. I cut to the chase and told him what the plan was. When I told him what we got during our gun run and how we'd have to give them a workout at the airport, and also of Vincent's little surprise, I thought I might have made his Christmas card list.
“Sounds like a good time.” He actually clapped me on the shoulder.
I've seen and done a lot in my life, but it was among the most chilling moments I've ever experienced.
But desperate times ...
The pilot, Jameson, was going to have to make two trips this time. One for me and my team, the other for Anders' team and the equipment that they'd need for the experimental scorched earth move.
The chemical was frightening. It ate away any organic ma tter it came in contact with, and it did it fast. The doctor had nicknamed it “Scythe,” and I don't think he meant it to be playful. He nearly glowed with pride when he went through the specifics of what it did and how to best deliver it. I think even Trager shivered, although it might have been caused by his anger of having these kinds of things developed under his nose with his funds but without his knowledge.
After that meeting, I knew I'd picked the right guy to head up that little part of the mission. Killing zombies as they come at me is one thing; each one I put down means that someone can finally
“I'll be waiting.”
The call disconnected, and Trager motioned for me to follow him.
When we got to the lab, Trager swiped his ID card and the door slid open with a hiss. The security measure seemed completely unnecessary given the new state of the island, but I supposed that, as long as there were living people, there would be a threat.
There was a man in a lab coat waiting for us. He looked about early-50's, average size … nondescript. The only thing that really gave him any personality was the fact that I noticed him tapping his pen impatiently against the edge of a table when we walked. Then I noticed him stop immediately when Trager got close.
It wasn't too hard to figure the dynamic here.
The doctor and I shared a quick handshake, then Trager got right down to brass tacks. He told Dr. Vincent what I'd asked about. “W-weapons? Surely you don't think ...”
“Not weapons, Doc. Just something that can be used as one. The nastier, the better.”
“Our purpose is in this research is to advance science and eradicate disease, not take lives.”
He held my gaze for a second before Trager butted in. “Calm down, Vin. It was just a thought.”
“And one I resent.”
I didn't buy it. Now, I wish I had, although I doubt that it would have changed anything in the end. “You're full of shit.”
“I-I beg your pardon?”
I half-expected Trager to say something, but he just watched.
“I remember the guys in the service saying the same thing. Then they got drunk and would say all kinds of different shit. Guys like them … and you … just can't help fiddling around when no one's looking. So quit wasting my time.”
Trager said, “Damn, and I thought I didn't trust people. Vin?”
I remember the look on Vincent's face. He might as well have held up a sign. “Never mind. I'll find it myself.”
Vincent pulled out his key ring. He began flipping through them one by one, thinking. He finally said, “Follow me.”
I had to do something really distasteful: I had to ask Anders for help. The first mission to the gun store was supposed to be precise, a quick in-and-out job. If not for a completely unpredictable turn of events, we would have been fine.
But the subseq uent missions?
Those were going to require a lot of killing.
I couldn't think of anyone better to indiscriminately slaughter what used to be the inhabitants of The Whale.
I knocked on his door. When he answered, I wasn't sure if he was surprised or not. What I was sure of was that he'd grown to dislike me a hell of a lot in a short time. I cut to the chase and told him what the plan was. When I told him what we got during our gun run and how we'd have to give them a workout at the airport, and also of Vincent's little surprise, I thought I might have made his Christmas card list.
“Sounds like a good time.” He actually clapped me on the shoulder.
I've seen and done a lot in my life, but it was among the most chilling moments I've ever experienced.
But desperate times ...
The pilot, Jameson, was going to have to make two trips this time. One for me and my team, the other for Anders' team and the equipment that they'd need for the experimental scorched earth move.
The chemical was frightening. It ate away any organic ma tter it came in contact with, and it did it fast. The doctor had nicknamed it “Scythe,” and I don't think he meant it to be playful. He nearly glowed with pride when he went through the specifics of what it did and how to best deliver it. I think even Trager shivered, although it might have been caused by his anger of having these kinds of things developed under his nose with his funds but without his knowledge.
After that meeting, I knew I'd picked the right guy to head up that little part of the mission. Killing zombies as they come at me is one thing; each one I put down means that someone can finally
Similar Books
