Patient Zero

Chapter Sixty-Five

Crisfield, Maryland / Wednesday, July 1; 3:33 A.M.

“WHAT HAPPENED?” I asked Ollie.

He shook his head like a dog shaking off fleas. “I don’t know. I was blindsided. Maybe Tasered. I remember a whole lot of pain and then it all went black. Next thing I know I’m duct-taped to a chair and some asshole is smacking me in the face and yelling in Arabic.”

Top gave him a quick once-over and found a wet burn mark on his neck just above the collar and the back of his shirt was soaked. “Looks like you got hit with a liquid Taser, boy.”

“Damn. I didn’t think those things worked that well.”

“Little dab’ll do ya,” Top said from where he knelt by the scientist I’d shot, applying compresses to the wounds.

Bullets were still whanging off the door, but so far they didn’t seem to be able to get in, and eventually they stopped firing. I don’t know if Bunny, Ollie, or Top thought that was strange, but I sure as hell did. There was a keycard station outside. How come nobody was trying to use a keycard? I almost said something to the others, but decided to keep it to myself for the moment. As the saying goes, “just because you’re paranoid, doesn’t mean you aren’t being followed.” There were too many things in this place that didn’t add up.

“The troops should be arriving any second,” I said. I looked up at the shuttered windows set high in the wall. “Bet you a dime they’ll come through those, so be smart when they enter. If they ask you to lay down your arms you do it. Remember, the first thing they’re going to be thinking is that we’ve been killed or infected. Let’s not give anyone a reason to get trigger happy.”

“I’m with you on that, boss,” said Bunny.

“Hey,” Ollie said as he got groggily to his feet, “where’s Skip?”

Bunny glanced at me. “Unknown,” I said. “He went missing around the same time you did.” Ollie looked like he was about to ask a question, but I turned away and looked down at the dying scientist. “How’s he doing, Top?”

“This guy’s circling the drain. You want to ask him a question now would be the time.”

I squatted on my heels. “You’re dying,” I said in Farsi. “You have a chance to do some good, turn things around before you die. Tell me, what is Seif al Din?”

He sneered at me. “The infidels will all drown in rivers of blood.”

“Yeah, yeah, whatever. I want you to tell me about the Sword of the Faithful.”

He laughed. “You’ve already seen its power. It will consume your entire country,” he said, nodding with fierce joy, delighted at the thought.

“If this thing is a plague, friend, then it’s going to consume your people, too.”

He barked a laugh and blood flecked his lips. “Allah will protect His people.” He mumbled something else but all I caught were the words “generation twelve,” and I had no idea what it meant.

I leaned close. “Right now about two hundred Special Forces soldiers are descending on this place. None of your infected subjects are going to get out of here. Not one. Everything you’ve worked for is going to stop right here, right now.”

He tried to spit at me, but he lacked the power. He was fading fast. I glanced at Top who shook his head.

“You have stopped nothing,” whispered the dying man, then repeated the word, savoring it. “Nothing.”

“Is there another lab, another cell?”

“It is past that time,” he said with a bloody smile. “El Mujahid is coming. He wields the Sword of the Faithful. You are all too late. Soon all of Islam will be free of you.”

Then he threw his head back and screamed out the name of God with such force that it tore the last bits of life out of him. He sank back against Top and his head lolled to one side.