Janine's cold eyes narrow as she eyes the thin line of rising smoke from the north of Niomh Island, the island near Dearg where we think Jones is hiding. "Yes, I see it, Tom. You were quite right. All the Far Hebrideans say Niomh was abandoned early in the apocalypse. There's a few good chances it's Jones."
The pudgy woman beside me, with dark hair and even darker eyes and a mole just under her nose, nods in favor. "Good. The boy needs bringing to heel."
Tom gives Morag an unsure look. "I'm still not entirely convinced you should be accompanying us on this mission, Miss Brown. Jones is a dangerous man."
She gives him a dry look. "Ach, don't be daft. I used to change Lachlan's nappies when he was a wee bairn. I'll not be afraid of a man whose backside I used to wipe. Besides, I'm the only person on Mor who spent time on Niomh. Worked in a bakery there before I set up my own. Could tell you some tales about the local folk that would make your hair curl."
Tom still looks unsure, but Paula laughs, seeming to rather enjoy the older woman's presence. "Yes. Maybe later." Her face shifts to concern as she looks over at Janine. "How are you feeling?"
"Stable. Thank you, Dr. Cohen. I slept well last night for the first time in a while."
"I'm still investigating what that medicine in the bottle you picked up on Dearg Island is, Five. I can observe with a microscope that it slows down nanite movement, but I don't know why."
Morag frowns. "Aye. They're a tight-lipped lot over on Dearg."
"Still, if it's working, that trip wasn't a waste of time," Tom says, and I nod, ignoring the gnawing in my gut as I remember my mental visit with Catherine last night.
She is on Dearg, locked up after trying to escape. I haven't told Sam about it, obviously. I think he'd have a heart attack if he knew Catherine was in the same place as Frances. He knows how dangerous she makes herself appear, and what she would do just to hurt me. But Catherine being there, if she wasn't lying when she said her injuries were from trying to escape, means that Sam's hunch is right. The people there really are trapped. Frances and Catherine may very well be in the same situation.
But Dearg is the place of my creation as a clone. Those labs are where the Feive Project took place. I haven't forgotten that my mind as well as Catherine's are deteriorating from the project failing. We have maybe five years, with very few options on how to fix it. Catherine's imprisonment is why she can't work on creating new bodies for us to do a transfer somewhat like what Veronica did with A.N.N.I.E. and what Moonchild tried to do to me.
I shudder at the thought. It's either that or trying to kill each other, but we have no idea if one of us dying will actually fix the problem.
While that problem is a long way away in comparison to other ones, it does tell me one thing that I wish wasn't true: I'm going to have to get Catherine out of there so we can find a way to save ourselves, which means I'm going to have to go back to Dearg at some point.
"By my calculations, it should buy Janine an extra couple of weeks at least," Paula reports, and Janine nods, her face twisting.
"So, I might yet live to see Jones become King of the Rocks. That'll be a jolly time."
"How I do love your enthusiasm, Janine," I sigh, to which she gives me a raised brow.
"You'll live to see him captured and tried for his crimes," Tom tells her, and she nods.
"That's certainly the aim."
Morag snaps her fingers to get our attention. "Bring the boat into the harbor here on the east of the island. With Lachlan's camp on the other side, he won't see us coming in."
Water splashes up as Tom does as told, and the boat soon comes to a stop as it gets closer to shore.
"Alright," Paula says with a look of determination. "So, we're going to skirt the east side of the island and then head toward that smoke using whatever cover we can find. We need to be quick and quiet. Five, take point. Let's go."
Hopping off the boat and onto the pier, I start running, my footfalls soft on the wood. The others follow my lead, eyes wide and curious. I long to hear Sam's voice from my headset, or even Nicole's, but it was best to go without coms today just in case Jones has some way of hacking them. Nicole's shown it's really not too hard to piggyback onto Mor's frequency without them knowing. Of course, this isn't to take away Nicole's talents, but it's almost a bit pathetic that we've been doing this for over a week now and no one has noticed it.
This kind of incompetence would get us scolded in Abel, even if the reasoning behind it wasn't sinister. It shows lack of security, which is odd, considering how strict the laird seems to be.
"What happened on this island, Morag?" Paula asks, and I look over my shoulder to see her gray eyes glancing at the boards listing native species, and then to a sign for deep sea fishing day trips. "It looks beautiful in a rugged sort of way. Plenty of tourist stuff."
Morag nods, her brown eyes holding what I guess are fond memories. "Aye, it was. Niomh means beautiful, you know. Folk have always said this is the most bonny island of the Far Hebrides. They used to run yoga weekends here, writing retreats, that kind of nonsense. We had all sorts pitch up over the years, and not a scrap of common sense between them."
The redhead raises a brow. "So...?"
"Outsiders brought the plague with them. Anywhere with tourists was at risk in the early days."
That catches Tom's attention. "Wait. So there were zombies here?"
She nods. "Aye. The laird was strict about it. No one who was bitten got off Niomh. If you had a graze or a scratch, two weeks on Cri Island, the one with the caring of stones, before you could come to Mor. People weren't happy about it, but well–what could you do? The Reid's have always ruled with a rod of iron."
I shrug. "I mean, that's how communities survived. In America, I hated the base I was in because they were so strict about everything, but they had to be. Not to say everything they did was... ethical, but there had to be hard rules. But um, what happened to the zombies here?"
She cocks her head to the side. "What do you mean?"
"What do you mean 'what do you mean'?" I scoff, gesturing around. "I don't see any zombies. Do you?"
"We didn't see any in the binoculars from the boat either," Janine pipes up, suddenly looking troubled. "So the question is, where did they go?"
"Walked into the sea, maybe?" Morag suggests, but Janine doesn't look convinced.
"Maybe. We must conduct the mission with maximal speed. The sooner we get off this island, the better."
I nod in agreement, picking up the pace a bit. These pathways are forgiving. Even with the years of disuse, there are no cracks or lifts that might make me fall and twist an ankle. I'd hate to have Tom lecture me as he carries me back to the boat because I fell and was deemed unable to perform the mission.
He hasn't said anything else about me not being able to do certain things due to my lack of immortality, which I'm glad about. It honestly hurt a bit to think he saw me so incompetent, even if the concern was coming out of a place of love (or whatever it is that make up our friendship). But he made no fuss about me coming on this mission, nor did he seem to worry about me last night after I'd recovered.
I can't wait until we can go home back to Abel. Then me, Tom and Peter can get up in the middle of the night, meet in our little spot and just stand around, drinking, smoking and talking about nothing at all, or saying nothing at all. Everything will be okay then. There won't be talk about immortality or clones or whatever the hell is going on on Dearg. It'll be peaceful.
"There!" Tom points ahead. "That's it. Thin plume of smoke from the northwest."
"I see it," Paula says. "It's coming from a sort of shack perched on a rooftop."
"That's the main town, aye," Morag says with a nod. "Could be a bird watching hide out there."
Tom pauses to think for a moment before turning to me. "Alright, Five, you keep watch or zoms from that stump. I'll creep up to the crest of this hill to take a bearing across this town and work out a route so Jones isn't alerted to us."
I nod, scrambling up on the stump and keeping my eyes peeled as Tom runs off. Janine, Morag and Paula wait silently for one beat, two.
Then Janine speaks.
"Dr. Cohen, how is Mr. Yao?"
"Sam?" She repeats. "Uh, he's... he's been talking to Maxine a lot."
I freeze, my eyes darting down at her. "How's he doing that?"
He couldn't have told her, right? If he had, why is she telling Janine? Why is Paula saying that in front of Morag?!
That doesn't make any sense anyway. I fell asleep in the closet talking to Peter. I would have heard if Sam had come in to talk to Maxine.
"Oh, um, he managed to convince the laird to let him into their in town communications hub to talk to Maxine last night and this morning."
My eyes widen. "He... did?"
He did that instead of coming to our hideout. Was it because I was there? Did he want to avoid talking to me?
Paula doesn't get to answer me because Janine speaks first.
"Because she also remembers Miss Dempsey, the previous Runner Five?"
She nods. "Yes. I never knew her, nor did Tom. But Sam and Jody have been talking about her a lot. And Maxine has been talking to him as well."
Janine takes a moment. "She was... a genuinely exemplary operative. She was good with people. I-I was not good with people at that time. I regret I did not get to know her better. I wish I had more to say about her now."
"You can just ask. When we get to talk to Frances. You don't have to tell her about her sister. You can just ask. Sam's told me a few things."
"Oh, he has?" I ask, not looking at her, although I can feel her eyes burning holes into the side of my head. Should I be angry he's talking to everyone but me about this? My stomach fills with rocks, my throat with acid. I've kept secrets from him. I shouldn't be upset, and yet I kind of am, and because of it there's guilt that follows.
Hypocrite. You were thinking last night that you didn't even want to know!
"A bit." She continues to stare when I don't say anything. "Are you... upset that he's talking about her?"
"No, I'm upset that he doesn't feel comfortable enough to talk about her with me. I'm upset that I can't-I can't make this easier for him." I force myself to look down at her. "Sam's the best person I've ever met, and I know he's in pain because of this–remembering her, and he doesn't deserve to feel like that. He's hurting and I-I don't know how to make it better. "
"Oh," Is all she says. I can't help but wonder if she was expecting a different response, if she was expecting me to be jealous of a dead woman.
I never get the chance to ask her though, because Tom comes running back to us. His chest is heaving as if he broke out into a sprint, and my brows furrow in concern.
Paula doesn't seem to notice the panic in his eyes because she just laughs. "Wow. That was quick."
"What is it?" I ask, reaching down to grab for my weapon. "Did you see Jones?"
He shakes his head, still panting. "No, not Jones. But I found... all of the zoms. The center of the island is full of dormant zombies. They're just... standing there, just staring, not moving, not making a sound."
Morag gasps. "Oh Lord."
"I've heard about them going dormant if there's no food source, but I've never seen it before."
"What a clever place for Jones to hide his base," Janine hisses, and Paula looks at Tom in befuddlement.
"But how did he get past them?"
"Climbing over the rooftops," He answers. "Doesn't matter. We'll take him today. We stick to the plan. Run around the shore. There's a point to the north where we can get to his hiding place across the rooftops. We have to be fast. No telling what might activate those zoms!"
•
"I didn't think ordinary zoms could still horrify me," Paula whispers, her face twisting as it starts raining lightly. I grit my teeth as a raindrop splatters on my nose.
The zombies don't move, nor does the sound that's leaving the back of their throats change. They continue gazing ahead, eyes milk white—those that have eyes. Many of them have rotted away.
Occasionally, I have to be reminded of just how scary normal zoms can be. There are V-Types, and we've seen other horrifying things like the Glass Protocol, flesh-eating spiders, mind control and immortals. That doesn't mean regular zombies are harmless. I need to be reminded of that, sometimes.
I was never immune to zombies when I was immortal, and I'm not immune to them now.
One bite is all it takes.
"It's a terrible sight," Morag shudders. "They're just standing there. How many? 100? 200? And what is that nasty noise they're making?"
"Sounds like a low, monotonous version of the moaning sound they make while they're moving. Perhaps that's their natural sound."
"I've never seen this before," Tom whispers, both confused and curious. "Not in Algeria, not on the way. The rain's falling on them and they're just... standing there."
My throat is tight, and it takes a great amount of effort to swallow down the rising bile in my throat. The soft sound of a 'meow' hits my ears, and my steps falter. Paula nearly trips and tumbles off the roof because of how hard she flinches.
"Shit," I hiss, and my gaze along with everyone else's has focused on the black and white cat that's walking along the zoms. It hops onto a fence post and walks right up to one. "It's going to wake them."
The cat takes a bite out of the arm of a zombie in a red jacket. It doesn't move.
"Or not."
"Lucky for us," Janine says, although she doesn't look too relieved. "They're evidently not triggered by simple movement. Presumably, they're conserving energy waiting for human targets."
I frown in question. Do zombies need energy? They're dead. It's not like they get tired.
"If we keep to the rooftops, we're safe," Tom states, and Janine still keeps her pinched expression.
"At the very least, they cannot climb to reach us. Dr. Cohen, Miss Brown, remain here at the edge of town with the binoculars." She reaches into her backpack and pulls out a small radio, which makes me raise a brow. I didn't realize we brought those. "Stay on the radio and keep a careful eye out. Warn us if anything changes."
Morag nods enthusiastically as Paula takes out a radio from her backpack. "I'm more than happy keeping my distance from those monstrosities."
"Five, Tom, you're with me. Across the roof here, and then that run of buildings, then we'll reassess. Quickly, please, run."
We take off, and I take point again. It's safer that way, with me in the front, Tom behind me and Janine dead last. We have no idea what might happen if we come upon Jones, and he tries to turn the nanites up with the control box. While smaller noises and movements don't wake the zoms, Janine shouting in sudden pain may very well do the trick.
I try not to look at them. I hate that no matter how much we encounter, how many horrifying things we see surrounding zombies, there's always more–something more horrifying or equally as so. The way their eyes are so sheen and white–it's sickening. They're stone still, lifeless.
I have half a mind to ask Morag why the laird didn't think to clear out the zombies instead of leaving the island infested like this. Do they not realize how dangerous that could be? One loud boom from fireworks or whatever else from Mor could send 200 zombies shambling towards them. Usually, I'd understand just up and leaving it, but this island isn't that far from Mor.
My face morphs into a sneer. I shouldn't be surprised that the laird would leave it as a later problem. While he is praised as a good leader, I remember him saying that he wished Jones had stayed on the mainland to "be someone else's problem." Chief McCallen also mentioned leaving those people buried under the rock after a landslide. While he obviously didn't say it, I can only assume it was under the laird's orders that that was done.
Laird Reid may be a good leader, but it's becoming apparently obvious he likes to look for an easy way out.
There's a slick sound as my foot slips against the rooftop, and my world tilts as gravity takes me down.
"Runner Five!" Janine calls, and I gasp as I'm jerked back up before I can even comprehend that I'm falling. Tom's fingers dig deep into the skin of my arms as he pulls me to safety, away from the edge.
"Are you alright?" He asks, and I nod, my heart pounding in my chest. I would have landed right in the middle of the zom-infested streets. "That would have woken them up, if anything would."
I nod. "Thank you."
He lets go of my arms and states he'll take point from here, probably to test out the slippery spots to ensure I don't have another near tumble again. I internally curse because I can almost see the thoughts going through Tom's mind right now.
"Have you ever seen anything like this before, Jane?" He asks a minute later.
"Only once, a few months after the apocalypse. Scouting a department store for supplies," She explains. "I crossed the roof to access an inner atrium with no view of the outside world. There were four glass elevators."
"Glass elevators filled with zoms?"
"Someone must have turned in each of those lifts, biting the others. They'd fed on each other, and then, with no way out and no prey in sight, they'd become dormant like this. Milky-eyed, not moving. I climbed down. When I passed in front of each lift, the zombies inside woke up. Their eyes went from white to clear again. They began growling, gnashing their jaws, trying to reach me."
Tom turns his gaze to look back at us, and I see his throat bob as he swallows. "Do you think if the whole world were infected, this is what it would be like? Just animated corpses standing still, rained on? Growing mold? Becoming food for cats?"
A shudder racks though his body before he continues. "You heard the report from Abel. The red fungus is on the rise again in coastal towns. No one knows why. They're burning them as soon as they grow, but they're coming back faster and faster!"
"Miss McShell has scoured her files for any hint of her lost memories. She's more certain than ever that the missing part of the Edda concerns the fungus. It is vital we retrieve it from Jones." She cranes her neck to look around as we come to a stop. "The wooden struts in that building look secure. Let's proceed along there, and then we'll arrive at Jones' hideout. Go."
•
"Tom, Janine, Five," Paula's voice crackles in from the radio, "I can see you. The roof you're on is one level down from the next rooftop, where there's the shack with smoke coming out of it."
"We can't hear anything from it," Tom replies lowly. "No sounds of movement. Nothing but wind and rain."
Morag tsks. "Silly boy. Must have gone out and left the fire on. Oh, I remember that time Colin West fell asleep with a cigarette in his fingers and woke up to his whole house burning! Of course, he had been tiring himself out with those late-night visits to Widow Sturgeon, if you take my meaning?"
Janine coughs awkwardly. "Um, yes, perhaps we could keep coms chatter to a minimum?"
"Thank God," I sigh. I really don't want to hear about that kind of gossip right now.
"We must be ready for any eventuality." Janine jumps and grabs onto the rooftop, doing an impressive chin-up to get herself onto the next rooftop. She extends her hand to me, and Tom helps lift me up since I'm too short to even jump up to grab onto it. Once she's pulled me up, I help pull Tom up, although I doubt he actually needs it.
We turn to the shack, which looks sturdy enough, and somewhat clean. The door, to all our surprise, isn't locked. It's cracked open a tiny bit, and inside I can just make out a wood brazier, burning down.
"He's not here," I sigh, before letting out an annoyed curse.
"If he's not here, you could wait for me and Morag to come over," Paula says. "We'll look through it together."
"No need for that," Janine says curtly. "I can investigate the shack easily myself. We may have only found a subsidiary camp."
I frown at her. I? Tom and I are here too.
She pushes open the door, and the light from an oil lamp shines through. The door creaks, and just over that sound I hear glass clinking. My eyes flicker up to see a glass from above tipped over a shelf, caused by the door opening, The glass pulls a red string that leads to another shelf, pulling a device off the shelf that looks like a-
"It's a trap!" I shout, diving to try to catch the airhorn before it hits the ground, but I'm too late. It clatters to the floor, and that sets it off.
A loud wail rings in the air, and I quickly grab the device and chuck it out of the window.
"You need to leave now!" Paula shouts.
"We need to stay very still," Tom says, trying to remain calm. "We need to see what the zombies do. They might-"
"We need to go," I say, watching from the window, watching as milky white fades from the zoms' eyes, as teeth start gnashing and the low sounds turn to full-fledged moans of the undead. "They're waking up."
A/N: Here you go, guys! I hope you enjoy this chapter! How do you think our heroes will get out of this one? Please be sure to comment and let me know! And be sure to vote as well! Thank you and have a blessed day!