The security ninja didn’t answer me. He fed our cards into a handheld reader, one at a time, before handing them back to me and waving one of the other men forward. This man carried a stack of top-of-the-line blood testing units—the same model we used to confirm that George had been infected.
“Please distribute these to the rest of your party,” said the first man, as the second man carefully passed the test units through the window to me. He avoided touching my fingers, like I might be carrying a contagion that could somehow travel through his triple-lined Kevlar gloves and burrow into his skin. Not even Kellis-Amberlee can do that. The live virus has only ever traveled through direct fluid contact, thank God, or we’d all have been shambling our way around the world a long damn time ago.
I handed a test unit to Becks and held another out behind me, waiting until I felt Mahir take it out of my hand. I didn’t take my eyes off the man in the outbreak gear. This wasn’t outbreak protocol. They shouldn’t have been outside at all, and if they were, they should have started firing as soon as we came into range. “What’s going on?”
“Please open your test unit.”
There were three security ninjas I could see, which meant there were probably half a dozen more that I couldn’t. If they were all armed as heavily as the ones guarding the road, making trouble would be a good way to get dead without actually accomplishing anything. I frowned and popped the lid of the testing unit up, sliding my entire hand inside. The lid clamped down, holding my hand in position with the fingers spread for optimal sampling. Small snaps from beside and behind me told me that Becks and Mahir were doing the same. I kept watching the security ninja, trying to figure out what was going on.
The security ninja’s mask wasn’t directed toward my face anymore. It was directed at the lights on my testing unit. I realized with a start that his companions had moved to flank the van, putting them into position to shoot any one of us the second a test came back positive. That would fill the interior of the van with blood, turning it into a mobile hot zone, filling the enclosed space with the sharp tang of gunpowder—
Blood drying on the walls in half a dozen different shades, reds and browns and oh, God, George, I don’t think that I can do this without you. I don’t think I’m allowed to do this without you. So take it back, okay? Take back the blood, open your eyes, and if you’ve ever loved me, come back, take the blood away and come back—
George’s voice cut through the sudden jangle in my head with clear, soothing calm: That was a long time ago; that was a different van. Your test is clean.
“What?” I said, before I could remember that talking to myself in front of strangers isn’t a good idea.
The security ninja either didn’t notice or had been briefed on my little idiosyncrasies. “I appreciate your cooperation, Mr. Mason,” he said. A fourth man had appeared from somewhere—I wasn’t sure wanted to know exactly where, or how many friends he had lurking out there. He was carrying a large biohazard bag. “If you would collect the units and return them, we’ll be glad to allow you to continue on your way.”
“Uh, yeah.” I took the bag with my free hand, dropping my green-lit testing unit inside before passing the bag to Becks. “Now do you want to tell us what’s going on? Because seriously, we have no idea, and you’re freaking me out more than a little.”
“Me, too,” contributed Becks.
“Myself as well,” said Mahir. He leaned forward to drop his testing unit into the bag in Becks’s hands. “I think we can safely declare this the worst vacation I have ever taken.”
“Mr. Mason, Ms. Atherton, Mr. Gowda.” The security ninja held out his hand. After a pause, Becks handed the bag back to me, and I handed it to him. He pulled it out of the van, handing it to the fourth man, who promptly vanished back into the brush surrounding the road. “If you would please continue on to the house, Ms. Garcia is anxiously awaiting your arrival.”
And had probably been notified by the security system as soon as we passed the first gate. “You’re not going to tell us what’s going on, are you?”
“Please continue on to the house.” The security ninja paused. When he spoke again, he sounded a lot more human, and a lot more frightened. “It isn’t safe for you to be out here. It isn’t safe for anyone to be out here. Now roll up those windows, and go.”
“Got it. Thanks.” I rolled up my window and turned to Becks, who looked like she couldn’t decide between being terrified and being furious. “You heard the man. Let’s get the hell out of here before they decide to shoot us just to be sure.”
“Oh, right.” Becks slammed her foot down on the gas, and we roared onward, up the circling driveway.
The other gates were standing open, each one flanked by a pair of men in outbreak gear. Whatever was happening, it was bad enough to mobilize the private security force that Maggie’s parents maintained for her. That was terrifying, in and of itself.
Maggie’s door was closed, and all the shades were drawn. They didn’t twitch as we pulled to a stop in front of the house. Becks turned off the engine and simply sat there, staring through the windshield.
“Now what?” she asked.
“Now we grab whatever we absolutely can’t live without and run for the house,” I replied, picking up the bag with my laptop and guns in it. “Whatever the f**k is going on, it’s bad enough to have men in outbreak suits on Maggie’s driveway. Assume that once we’re inside, we’re not coming out again for anything short of the apocalypse.”
“Please distribute these to the rest of your party,” said the first man, as the second man carefully passed the test units through the window to me. He avoided touching my fingers, like I might be carrying a contagion that could somehow travel through his triple-lined Kevlar gloves and burrow into his skin. Not even Kellis-Amberlee can do that. The live virus has only ever traveled through direct fluid contact, thank God, or we’d all have been shambling our way around the world a long damn time ago.
I handed a test unit to Becks and held another out behind me, waiting until I felt Mahir take it out of my hand. I didn’t take my eyes off the man in the outbreak gear. This wasn’t outbreak protocol. They shouldn’t have been outside at all, and if they were, they should have started firing as soon as we came into range. “What’s going on?”
“Please open your test unit.”
There were three security ninjas I could see, which meant there were probably half a dozen more that I couldn’t. If they were all armed as heavily as the ones guarding the road, making trouble would be a good way to get dead without actually accomplishing anything. I frowned and popped the lid of the testing unit up, sliding my entire hand inside. The lid clamped down, holding my hand in position with the fingers spread for optimal sampling. Small snaps from beside and behind me told me that Becks and Mahir were doing the same. I kept watching the security ninja, trying to figure out what was going on.
The security ninja’s mask wasn’t directed toward my face anymore. It was directed at the lights on my testing unit. I realized with a start that his companions had moved to flank the van, putting them into position to shoot any one of us the second a test came back positive. That would fill the interior of the van with blood, turning it into a mobile hot zone, filling the enclosed space with the sharp tang of gunpowder—
Blood drying on the walls in half a dozen different shades, reds and browns and oh, God, George, I don’t think that I can do this without you. I don’t think I’m allowed to do this without you. So take it back, okay? Take back the blood, open your eyes, and if you’ve ever loved me, come back, take the blood away and come back—
George’s voice cut through the sudden jangle in my head with clear, soothing calm: That was a long time ago; that was a different van. Your test is clean.
“What?” I said, before I could remember that talking to myself in front of strangers isn’t a good idea.
The security ninja either didn’t notice or had been briefed on my little idiosyncrasies. “I appreciate your cooperation, Mr. Mason,” he said. A fourth man had appeared from somewhere—I wasn’t sure wanted to know exactly where, or how many friends he had lurking out there. He was carrying a large biohazard bag. “If you would collect the units and return them, we’ll be glad to allow you to continue on your way.”
“Uh, yeah.” I took the bag with my free hand, dropping my green-lit testing unit inside before passing the bag to Becks. “Now do you want to tell us what’s going on? Because seriously, we have no idea, and you’re freaking me out more than a little.”
“Me, too,” contributed Becks.
“Myself as well,” said Mahir. He leaned forward to drop his testing unit into the bag in Becks’s hands. “I think we can safely declare this the worst vacation I have ever taken.”
“Mr. Mason, Ms. Atherton, Mr. Gowda.” The security ninja held out his hand. After a pause, Becks handed the bag back to me, and I handed it to him. He pulled it out of the van, handing it to the fourth man, who promptly vanished back into the brush surrounding the road. “If you would please continue on to the house, Ms. Garcia is anxiously awaiting your arrival.”
And had probably been notified by the security system as soon as we passed the first gate. “You’re not going to tell us what’s going on, are you?”
“Please continue on to the house.” The security ninja paused. When he spoke again, he sounded a lot more human, and a lot more frightened. “It isn’t safe for you to be out here. It isn’t safe for anyone to be out here. Now roll up those windows, and go.”
“Got it. Thanks.” I rolled up my window and turned to Becks, who looked like she couldn’t decide between being terrified and being furious. “You heard the man. Let’s get the hell out of here before they decide to shoot us just to be sure.”
“Oh, right.” Becks slammed her foot down on the gas, and we roared onward, up the circling driveway.
The other gates were standing open, each one flanked by a pair of men in outbreak gear. Whatever was happening, it was bad enough to mobilize the private security force that Maggie’s parents maintained for her. That was terrifying, in and of itself.
Maggie’s door was closed, and all the shades were drawn. They didn’t twitch as we pulled to a stop in front of the house. Becks turned off the engine and simply sat there, staring through the windshield.
“Now what?” she asked.
“Now we grab whatever we absolutely can’t live without and run for the house,” I replied, picking up the bag with my laptop and guns in it. “Whatever the f**k is going on, it’s bad enough to have men in outbreak suits on Maggie’s driveway. Assume that once we’re inside, we’re not coming out again for anything short of the apocalypse.”
