Dead World 1, page 3
Jim walked across the room and opened one of the drawers along the wall. He took out a small gold case and brought it back to the table. His thick thumbs flipped the latch and lifted the lid, exposing seven perfectly formed incisors made out of plaster. He picked up the largest one and slid it into the wound on Renee’s neck with ease. It was a perfect fit.
“Hell!” Morgan yanked off the protective gear and tossed the equipment onto the end of a nearby table. The clanging sound reverberated in the silence. Ignoring his gloves, he ran his hands through his hair and began to pace.
Not again.
“You’re sure this couldn’t have been caused by anything else? A lion perhaps?” Morgan hated hearing desperation in his voice.
Jim gave him a sad smile. “You’ve seen the evidence with your own eyes,” he said. “Use your other senses, if you don’t believe me.”
Morgan didn’t want to shape-shift. The smells inside the dissecting lab would be overwhelming in his Other form, but shifting was his only option if he wanted to get to the truth. Bone cracked in his face and his skin stretched as Morgan’s jaw extended to form a snout.
Blood dripped onto the floor as his blunt teeth were pushed out and replaced by deadly incisors. Dark fur sprouted from his skin, covering his upper body. The world blurred red, then swiftly turned gray. Sounds sharpened and so did his sense of smell.
He blinked, waiting for the pain to ease and the world to stop churning around him, then Morgan leaned over Renee’s body and inhaled. The barrage of odors immediately attacked his sharp senses.
He could smell rat, insect larva, the musk of a wild dog, and something else. Something unique that stood out from the rest. The aroma was vaguely familiar, but the scent was too degraded by scavengers to identify. Morgan snorted to clear his nose, but the scent was gone.
Morgan allowed the pain to swallow him once more. Bones morphed and muscles pulled tight as his face regained its original shape. He grasped the side of the gurney and labored for breath.
“You know what we have here.” Jim slid his glasses back on his round face and paused with the patience of an undertaker.
Yes, he did.
Morgan’s hands curled into fists around the metal frame. “Okay.” He sighed. “We’ve narrowed down the ‘what’, but do you know ‘who’ did this?” His voice held little emotion, knowing whomever Jim named would be sentenced to death.
Jim shook his head, while gathering the tarp to cover the body once more. “The tests were inconclusive, but we can safely rule out the vamps.”
“Why?” It would’ve been far easier to stake a vamp, than to take out one of his own. “Some of them have long-ass canines, too. They still need blood.”
He frowned. “Yes, they do, but the amount varies from vamp to vamp. Most prefer to ah ... feed during sex.” Jim blushed and shoved his hands into his pockets. “Renee shows no signs of having had sexual intercourse.” Jim sniffed and cleared his throat. “Speaking of sex-crazed vamps, I spotted Raphael Vega in town the other night.”
Morgan scowled. “What’s that two-legged bat doing back in Nuria?”
“I was curious, so I asked,” Jim said. “Raphael told me that he was visiting friends.”
“He doesn’t have any friends.”
Jim smiled indulgently. “I know you’d like to believe that, but he has a lot of female friends. Don’t you think it’s about time you get over the grudge you’ve been carrying?” he asked. “Raphael didn’t steal Karen from you. She went willingly to his bed. Half the town heard her passionate screams when he was—”
“This isn’t about Karen,” Morgan ground out between clenched teeth.
“Raphael has interesting timing,” Morgan said.
“So it seems,” Jim replied.
He leaned forward. “And?”
“You know as well as I do that vamps don’t tend to ingest large quantities of meat or any other food for that matter. That was one of the tradeoffs for the boost in psychic ability.” Jim shrugged. “Besides, they’re very good at hiding their presence and even better at disposing of bodies. You can take the vampires out of the lab, but not the lab out of the vampires.”
His genetic tampering joke fell flat. Jim coughed, his face flushing under Morgan’s steady regard.
“Yeah, well I’m still going to check Raphael out to be sure,” Morgan said. “Even if he didn’t kill Renee, he may be up to his old tricks.”
“Seducing women isn’t a crime,” Jim said.
“It is when you use psychic abilities to do so,” Morgan snapped.
“To my knowledge, Raphael has never needed to do that to get women into bed,” Jim said. “Though I’m sure it would help your bruised ego to believe that was the case.”
Morgan glowered.
Jim threw up his hands. “Do what you need to do,” he said, then gently touched Morgan’s arm, drawing his attention away from the body. “We may not know who, but you and I both know what did this.”
Morgan exhaled loudly. Indeed, he did know what had done this to poor Renee Forrester. A pureblood against a genetically enhanced, shape-shifting Super Soldier didn’t stand a chance.
He hoped whatever hybrid predator had done this had moved on. A shifter who couldn’t control themselves was dangerous to everyone. Nuria didn’t need this kind of trouble.
“Has anyone else seen the body?” He looked warily at Jim, praying the man gave him the right answer—the only acceptable answer given the circumstances.
“No.” Jim pulled his glasses from his face and wiped them on his shirtsleeve. “As soon as I realized who it was, I covered her. I didn’t want any of my lab assistants stumbling upon her,” he said. “The only relative she has in town is her grandmother and I haven’t notified her yet.”
“Good.” Relief flooded Morgan, but it was short-lived. “Hide the body, but don’t dispose of it. We may need her remains later to identify the killer.”
“That’s what I’d planned to do after you saw her,” Jim assured.
“Also, can you hold off on the family notification?” Morgan asked.
“Sure.”
“You were right to contact me. I want to handle this quietly. We can’t afford to have outsiders involved, not with public opinion already turning against us. I don’t want to panic the town unless I have to.” The thought of the impending hunt chilled Morgan’s bones.
“Figured that would be the case.”
He glanced at Jim. “If Roark Montgomery gets wind of this, there will be no stopping his blood purity bill.”
“I know.” Sweat broke out across Jim’s forehead. “The republic leaders will send orders to IPTT to exterminate first and ask questions later. It’ll be wartime all over again.”
Morgan nodded. “My thoughts exactly.”
4
Red slipped one pistol from its holster and squinted against the morning sun. The weapon beeped softly in recognition of her thumbprint and began to charge.
She hadn’t spotted the remaining Unknowns yet, but their stench was undeniable, much like the body lying at her feet.
She inhaled, taking the hot desert air into her lungs. It scalded like an oven left unchecked, but couldn’t stop the coppery-sweet tang of blood and burnt flesh from assaulting her nostrils.
Her black combat boots stuck to the tacky substance, making suction noises as she shifted her weight from one foot to the other, in an attempt to displace the drying blood.
The pistol in her hand glowed green and hummed as the charge reached full strength. Her fingers tightened instinctively, knuckles turning white from her tense grip. She glanced down at the rookie’s lifeless body.
Red watched the smoke drift in the air from the massive hole that once housed the man’s chest. The blast had cauterized the outer edges of the wound, slowing blood loss, but not enough. He’d still managed to bleed out.
If she didn’t look at his chest, Red could almost pretend the trainee was asleep and hadn’t been covering her back a minute ago.
His laugher over catching his first bad guy rang in her ears. She swallowed the lump in her throat that threatened to choke her. Sympathy right now would get her killed. She’d have to grieve later.
Another body lay several feet away: just as bloody, just as dead. At least the rookie had taken two of the Unknowns with him before he checked out. Two fewer criminals to watch out for in the future. She glanced across the open fields.
Where was the tactical team? They should’ve been here by now. “Man down” always brought them running. By the time they arrived the fight would be over.
Again.
A warehouse rose a few yards in the distance. Its old-fashioned tin roof glowed in the harsh morning sunlight, giving off what appeared to be mini-solar flares.
A side door of the building stood wide open, swaying with a gentle squeak, betraying the escape route the remaining Unknowns had taken only moments ago.
Red shielded her eyes and stared at what used to be an active agricultural area in the middle of the desert. The sun had turned the once green fields into a barren wasteland. The emaciated remains of a forest lay further in the distance.
The Unknowns wouldn’t survive for long without shelter. If the radiation didn’t get them, then the animals would. She hadn’t seen any of them make a break for the dead woods, which meant they were still inside the building.
Her gaze landed on the warehouse. There were lots of places in there for an Unknown to hide. Ten minutes had passed. More than enough time to set up an ambush.
She should wait, but the killers would escape if Red didn’t act now. She couldn’t let that happen. She owed it to the rookie to at least try to catch the ones responsible for his death.
Red scanned the area for backup one last time, but couldn’t see nor hear a vehicle’s approach. “Bannon, you’re such an arse!” she muttered, then continued her pursuit.
Red snaked her way into the warehouse, her footfalls silent on the cracked red clay earth. The Unknowns were in here, waiting to catch her unawares.
Steel containers lined the walls, along with several barrels. Red inhaled, relying on her nose’s acute sensitivity to ascertain their whereabouts. Unknowns always emitted a peculiar odor, kind of like eggs baking in the hot sun.
Only about two percent of the population could detect it and she was in that small minority. Her nose’s sharpness had kept her alive on more than one occasion. Today would be no different.
She switched into tactical mode. She only had one mission and that was to terminate the Unknowns, if they refused to surrender.
Red took her job very seriously.
The building was quiet, not even a creak came from the rafters. Where are you? I know you’re in here. Red cocked her head to listen. Nothing. Maybe they were hiding in the back of the building?
Red leaned an inch to her left to get a better look at the rafters. Metal and faux wood split near her cheek, cutting her face, as a laser blast narrowly missed her head. The clanging sound reverberated under the tin roof, deafening her.
“Son-of-a-cur!” Red dove behind the steel containers stacked near the wall. She shoulder rolled forward and came up firing. The Unknown shot again, nicking one of the barrels on the end.
Something hit the ground with a splat. A rancid odor followed.
Red kicked the barrel closest to her. Liquid sloshed. She didn’t dare glance down to check the contents, but this far away from a settlement, it couldn’t be anything good.
The last time she had been bathed in radioactive material she’d had to go through detox and her skin had glowed for a month. Red had learned the hard way that green skin didn’t match any outfit.
Some days it didn’t pay to come to work. She sighed.
The two Unknowns tracked the sound of her breath and fired simultaneously. Red ducked.
The steel drums rang like a bell dropped down a flight of stairs, but this time the noise didn’t distract her. Red’s gaze followed the fading laser trail into the rafters, then she returned fire.
The blast from her pistol illuminated the darkness for an instant. The Unknown’s eyes widened, then he screamed and crumbled to the ground.
One down, she thought scanning for movement.
The second shot came from above and to her left. It had been close. Damn close. If the bastard’s hand hadn’t jerked, she might be missing a head. Red stared into the shadows. Nothing moved.
“Throw your weapon out now and come out slowly with your hands up. This is your only warning,” she shouted.
Silence met her.
Just once it would be nice if someone surrendered.
The fake wood near the door smoldered as tiny flames licked hungrily at the beam. Red glanced at the fire, willing it to go out. She had no idea if the barrels were full of flammable liquid, and she didn’t want to find out the hard way.
She stared at the flames, judging how long it would take the fire to reach the barrels. Not long enough. She needed to end this.
She scanned the loft area to her left. Red was pretty sure the shot had come from that direction, but it was difficult to discern the Unknown from the darkness hugging the rafters.
“Move, damn you,” she muttered. “Give me something to aim at.”
Dust motes floated in the air from the earlier disturbance, dancing in the sunlight like drunken ballerinas. From where Red took cover, the Unknown had her pinned down no matter which direction she chose to move. Her heartbeat remained calm and her mind focused. She listened hard for the sound of humming engines.
Thirty minutes and still no backup.
A glint of metal caught Red’s eye as sunlight filtered through the holes in the roof. With animal-like reflexes, she swung the barrel of her pistol around and squeezed the trigger.
Blue light snaked out toward her intended target. The scream that burst forth shattered the silence but was cut short by death’s embrace.
The man toppled from the rafters and landed with a thick thud. A plume of dust rose from the ground. She scanned for life signs. Her navcom detected only one. The showdown was over.
She stood, slipping the pistol back into the suction grip holster strapped to her thigh, and walked to the door. She grabbed the canteen clipped to her belt and doused the wood frame.
Smoke coughed into the air as the flames gasped for breath. The fire sizzled, hissing one last time in protest, before extinguishing.
Red stepped out of the warehouse into the heat. The smell of death dissipated. The second her boots made contact with the dirt, the hair on the nape of her neck rose.
She released a heavy breath, her hand resting on her pistol. Red looked over her shoulder and saw her ‘backup’ approaching her position from the north.
About friggin’ time.
“I see we’re late again,” Lieutenant Bannon Richards quipped as he strode forward, his gaze focused on the carnage.
At first glance, Bannon appeared attractive with his short blond hair, tanned square jaw, and a body mass three times hers. But when Red looked past his gladiator physique and charming façade, she saw a hint of cruelty lurking behind his pale blue eyes. The brutishness that he couldn’t quite hide always made her wary.
“This assignment was supposed to be eyes only. I sent you and the rookie to patrol the southwest quadrant of the boundary because I thought it would keep you out of trouble.” He scowled. “See I was wrong again.”
That wasn’t why he’d sent her here and they both knew it. Bannon was a throwback to another era. He gave her crap assignments because he didn’t believe that women belonged on the tactical team.
Bannon never missed the opportunity to remind Red that he was the one in charge. Technically, he wasn’t her commander, since she held the same rank—a position he believed she’d obtained through nepotism—but when they were out in the field a one-month difference in seniority gave him the final say.
Unfortunately for Red, it also put him in charge of the patrol schedule, which was why she found herself spending more and more time on bogus patrols that took her hours away from headquarters. It was sheer chance that she and the rookie had encountered Unknowns today. Normally the real action took place near the cities where most Unknowns tried to sneak in to find work.
She glanced at the bodies scattered around them. Today’s assignment hadn’t been a waste of her time and expertise, but it had cost a rookie his life.
One real call—out of a hundred—did not make up for all the other days she’d spent driving for hours, staring at sandy rubble. And it certainly didn’t earn Bannon her respect. Had he responded when she first called in suspicious movement, there might not have been any casualties.
“There are two more inside. One perched in the rafters, the other on the ground.” Red pointed, not bothering to spare Bannon a second glance. She covered the short distance to where the rookie lay lifeless next to the carcass of an Unknown. “Sorry, kid,” she whispered.
Flies buzzed in the air, then landed on the bodies to feast. It wouldn’t be long before they planted their larva. Red swallowed hard, forcing her mind to clear. Nothing killed an appetite quicker than a body full of maggots.
Bannon barked orders to the various team members. Red listened with one ear as he began directing the scene investigation. He wanted it finished before the clean-up crew arrived, so they wouldn’t know he hadn’t been here all along.
“I can always count on you to live up to your rep, Red,” he called out from somewhere behind her.
She grimaced and ignored his gibe. The bottoms of her boots were still sticky and the tops had been splattered with blood. Red would need a new pair, when she got back to headquarters. She didn’t want a reminder of today’s events sitting in her closet. She glanced at the criminal at her feet.
Unknown bodies dried quickly in the sun’s harsh rays because of their lack of basic environmental inoculations. The heat turned them into hard shells, making them unrecyclable.
Bannon came up beside her and leaned over the rookie. “McCallan was a good man.” He paused. “They all were. And you wonder why no one wants to work with you.” His biting tone hit its mark.
