Love in an Undead Age, A.M. Geever [best contemporary novels txt] 📗

Doug continued, this time with a grin. “Each of you has five vials of vaccine serum that you’ll carry. The coating we put on them will keep them cold. It’s tough but not indestructible. If you crack it, the contents of that vial will be useless in an hour. Make sure you know where everyone else is carrying theirs. None of us are carrying in the same spot. Mine’s in my vest.”

Miranda saw everyone but Mike unconsciously reach for their allotment of serum. I hope this doesn’t come down to playing poker, she thought, wondering what her own tell was.

“Based on older telemetry, one thing we do have going for us is there are very few choke points from cars in the southbound lanes,” Doug said.

“But isn’t south away from here?” asked Seffie.

“It is,” Miranda said, “but before KFOG went off the air, they were reporting that San Jose had a defensible perimeter. People were trying to get away from the cities everywhere else, but not here.”

“Then why didn’t they use all the lanes?” Seffie asked.

“Because most people are law-abiding sheep, even when it kills them,” Mario muttered.

Beside her, Miranda felt Connor bristle. His animosity toward Mario was palpable. The habit of contradicting whatever Mario said was so ingrained it was all she could do to hold her tongue, but she had to put that aside. The mission came first.

Mario brooded from the other side of the table. He was the only person sitting down. Miranda tried to ignore him but the bruises on his face were the vivid purples and blues of a gathering storm, and all the more pronounced because of his appalling pallor. She found herself wishing she had not hit him quite so hard.

Fractured ribs, a couple good belts, a gunshot wound, and I’d look like hell, too. He shouldn’t be coming; he’s going to slow us down. I know he can’t stay in San Jose, but I don’t know why Father Walter thinks Henry needs his help. Once Henry has the serum, he can do the rest.

“How old is the last reliable telemetry that gives us any idea how many zombies are up there?”

The question came from Naomi Culpepper, their medic. The young woman’s no-nonsense attitude gave her an authoritative presence, despite her age. Naomi looked like a pale china doll—rosebud lips, translucent milky skin, sky-blue eyes, and short blond hair. She only came to Miranda’s shoulder, which had surprised Miranda when Naomi fell in beside her for the briefing. She moved and spoke with such confidence that she did not seem small until you got right up next to her.

“It’s too heavily forested up there for anything we have to be very reliable,” Doug replied. “There’s always zombie activity up there. It’ll probably be bad.”

“Is it possible we’re wrong about that?” Naomi asked. “It’s been abandoned for years, at least from this side. If there’s no food for them, maybe the zombies have moved off.”

“What about Salinas?” Connor asked her. “No one has lived there in a decade and there were so many zombies we almost didn’t make it out.”

“Even if we get lucky with the zombies, we still have the weather to contend with,” Mario added. “It’s been pouring for almost twenty-four hours and if it keeps up, there will be more mudslides.”

Gabe Rivera, the gunner, smirked. “This is a one-way trip for you no matter what.”

Gabe’s voice was full of youthful swagger that bordered on insolence. He reminded Miranda of a shiny brown colt, all knees and elbows and too much energy, and he was pretty full of himself. Then again, there were very few people who could claim to be a crack shot at sixteen hundred meters on a mounted fifty cal gun.

Gabe’s dark eyes assessed Mario. “Either we get there, or we don’t. If we make it, you’re never coming back, and if we don’t, your biggest problem will be finding brains for dinner.”

Mario rolled his eyes. “Thanks for clearing that up.”

Doug began speaking again. Miranda heard Gabe, who stood on the other side of Naomi, whisper, “El Jefe better watch his step. I don’t care what the padres say, thousands of people have turned because of him.”

“Any more questions?” Doug said.

“I have one,” Mike said. He pointed to Miranda and Mario. “Are these two going to be able to work together? Getting killed is one thing. Getting killed because they don’t have their heads in the game is another.”

Miranda forced herself to keep breathing as a burning flush colored her face. She had vowed she would leave everything at the door once they were underway and the question, however humiliating, was a fair one.

“Yeah, about that,” Doug answered. “Obviously the situation with Miranda and Mario is less than ideal.”

“Less than ideal?” Miranda blurted. She looked at Mike, who stood beside Mario. “If it’s mission critical, I will take a bullet or get eaten by zombies to keep him alive. Beyond that—”

A smile twitched across Mario’s lips before he schooled it away. He finds this amusing, she thought, incredulous. The desire to slap the vanished grin off his face was so intense that she lost her train of thought.

“I’ll take a bullet and get eaten by zombies,” Mario said.

It was such a childish thing to say, the kind of silly stake-raising they had teased one another with once. But if she rebuked him, it only showed that there was a problem. She sucked the insides of her cheeks between her teeth to keep her mouth shut.

“Satisfied?” Doug asked Mike.

Mike shrugged. “It’ll have to do. No offense to either of you, but I had to ask.”

“None taken,” she and Mario replied simultaneously. The sound of their voices so in sync made Miranda cringe.

Doug scrutinized everyone around the table. The look in his eyes was so intense they seemed to glow.

“Our mission objective is simple. We are to deliver Mario and the serum to the Santa Cruz lab, then catch a boat at the harbor. But we’re leaving at night, in the first big winter storm, and we might be pursued. The stakes have been raised from difficult to almost impossible. The only thing you need to know is that I am getting to Santa Cruz alive. I will successfully execute this mission. If any of you have doubts about how you’re going to get there, do us all a favor and back out now.”

The table was quiet. The clamor of the activity around them filled the silence.

Doug grinned. “That’s what I thought.”

The Mission Church bell began to peal once more. Miranda saw Father Walter and several other priests over Doug’s shoulder. Father Walter had a handgun on either hip. The barrel of an assault rifle peeked over his shoulder. Miranda had not seen him suited up like that in a long time. He almost looked like a different person.

“Are you ready to go?” Walter asked.

“Just finished up,” Doug answered.

“Then we’ll bless you and off you go. We have a report that the Council’s forces have mustered at City Hall.”

Father Walter motioned everyone around the table toward him. The garage grew quiet.

“In the name of the Father, and the Son, and the Holy Spirit,” Walter began, making the Sign of the Cross. He held his hands high toward the small group before him. “Holy Father, we ask that you bless and keep our comrades as they begin their journey. The peril they face is grave. We turn to You, we trust in You and Your Son, Our Lord Jesus Christ, to guide and protect them.”

Miranda reached for Connor’s hand. He turned his head just enough to murmur in her ear. “We’re going to do this, Miri, and then it’ll be you and me. We can leave all this other crap behind.”

He meant to be comforting, but Connor’s words made Miranda uneasy. This ‘other crap’ was her life.

“With Your guidance, we will lead Your children out of this terrible age of terror and death,” Walter said. “May the Love of Christ protect and guide these brave men and women as they set forth. See them safely home to You, Lord, in this life and the life to come. Amen.”

A ripple of ‘Amens’ and hasty Signs of the Cross swept through the room. Then the frantic activity started anew as if it had never stopped.

Miranda turned to Connor. “I have to go say goodbye.”

Connor leaned in and kissed her forehead. “I’ll save you a seat.”

Miranda threaded her way through the crowd. She saw Mario saying goodbye to Emily, who cried like someone had died. Might not be too far off, Miranda thought. The only person she wanted to see less than Mario just now was Emily. She did not have the emotional energy to spare. Thankful she had not attracted their attention, Miranda made her way to Father Walter. She tugged on his arm to get his attention.

“I guess this is it,” she said when Walter had turned to face her.

“Not too angry to say goodbye?”

A lump filled Miranda’s throat. She looked into Father Walter’s kind, plain face, plain except for his startling hazel eyes, and was suddenly sorry she could not stay to fight beside him.

“Not too angry,” she murmured as they embraced. Tears began to spill down her cheeks. “I’d never leave without telling you I love you, no matter how mad I am.” Miranda thought of her mother. She had learned that lesson the hard way.

Walter held her tight. “I love you too, a ghrá. And I’m sorry for what we did, truly. I’d do it differently if I could, but…” He loosened his grip and stepped away, grasping her shoulders in his hands. “Stay alive, d’ya hear me? Don’t be after doing anything stupid.”