Zombie Infestation Read online

  I wasn’t sure what he thought of my continued silence, but he didn’t stay quiet for long. I heard the rawness of his emotions in his voice. “It took two weeks before he was well enough to come to work and sit behind a desk. His color was so bad, I almost made him go home. I don’t know how he convinced his own doctors, much less the FBI docs to let him come back so soon, but he did.”

  He started to say more, but stopped. I let him contemplate his thoughts for now. I had my own worries to ponder. As I thought things out, I didn’t like the conclusions I came to. Fear wasn’t a comfortable bedfellow. It tended to cause people to make mistakes and I was no exception. If these people were willing to openly attack an FBI agent, what would they do to me, a “lowly” writer? For the first time, I thought it was good to be so far away from my kids.

  Chapter 5

  After Joseph haggled our way in a back entrance at the FBI office, I wore a visitors badge and managed to keep my weapons hidden. I wasn’t up on the protocols for entering an office building for the FBI, but I was pretty sure it didn’t include bringing in a multitude of weapons. Which was probably why we came in the back way. I’d be the last person to complain. Knowing somewhere in this building existed at least one person out to kill or maim their fellow agents didn’t inspire me to great heights of trust.

  I would make it back to my children alive. If I didn’t desperately want to see the antivirus, I probably would’ve dropped my new pal off in front of the building and hightailed it back to Washington. But I needed that antivirus.

  Being unable to replicate my body’s antibodies frustrated the hell out of me. If I could reproduce it, my kids would be safe, and I wouldn’t need jobs like this. Then again, the damned Suits used a knock-out drug on me I needed to find as well. My insides churned and I made a determined effort to think of something else.

  I followed Connelly through the building, heading to his office. Neither of us talked. I didn’t know anyone, and he obviously didn’t want to talk about things in-house. I tried not to laugh at the agents as they passed. Without conversation to distract me, I couldn’t help but notice that they all looked the same.

  I nearly choked trying to hold back my comments. Television tended to push stereotypes to the limits, but they hadn’t gone far enough in portraying the FBI. I started naming the agents as they passed. “Tweedledee, Tweedledum, White Rabbit, Tin Man, Aunty Em, Captain Hook—”

  “What’re you doing?”

  I snapped my head around and blushed. Note to self: muttering out loud is not a good way to entertain oneself in an FBI office.

  “I, ah, I’m entertaining myself.” Way to go. Lame-o excuse even my teen wouldn’t use.

  To my surprise, he laughed. “If you’re doing what I think you’re doing, I’m impressed with your accuracy.”

  Accuracy? I tried to hide my reaction. He laughed harder; my skepticism clearly showed.

  “Keep it up. I’m the only one who can hear you and I’m interested in your gut reaction to everyone here.” He said it casually enough. My reactions to the agents weren’t solely based on their sameness. In fact, Tin Man and Aunty Em were quite different character types.

  I didn’t know how long or how many storybook characters I could think of, but I sensed he wanted to test my reactions to everyone. I’d no personal bias against anyone and I was willing to bet a chocolate bar it was my first impressions of particular people he really wanted.

  I shrugged, nodded, and continued my monologue of characters. “Mickey Mouse, Pooh Bear, Eeyore, Goofy, Robin Hood…” The list went on. He smothered a snicker now and then, and I knew I nailed their characters straight up. His low chuckling encouraged me to continue.

  We got off the elevator and I muttered names faster. Damn, this floor was full of people. “Hermione, Ron Weasley, Peter Pan—is he even old enough to be an agent? Queen of Hearts, Alice—.” I’d circled back around to Alice in Wonderland. My kids were older now, and even racking my brain for characters, I didn’t see how I could keep coming up with new names.

  “Cedric, Wimpy Diary kid, C3PO—he seems more machine than R2, actually. Watch his walk. Princess Buttercup.” Okay, I’d slipped into adult literature. One glance told me it didn’t worry him, so I continued.

  “Captain Kirk, The Doctor—Tennant style. That’s some really great hair. Lord Voldemort, Bart Simpson, Shere Kahn.” I stopped. Connelly’s whole body tensed. Whether from my character reference or because of the man who held out his hand, I didn’t know.

  “Good to see you back, Connelly,” the newcomer said with forced joviality.

  I hid my skepticism behind a polite smile when he turned my way. “And who’s this beautiful creature?”

  This beautiful creature was going to knock Shere Kahn on his backside if he didn’t quit talking about me like that.

  Joseph’s hurried, “Serena Rouge. She’s a writer,” told me he knew what my internal response had been.

  “I’m Special Agent in Charge, Gene Robins,” he said, his manner smooth and practiced, like a car salesman.

  Instinctively, I wanted to back away from the proffered hand, but smiled my best smile, the one I gave when hunting the Infected. He was taller than me and I didn’t like having to look up that high.

  “Hi,” was all I managed. He reacted to my smile and voice. As handy as my gift of allure could be in drawing out the Infected, it was sure a pain in the ass with guys like Special Agent in Charge of Hitting on Women.

  Agent Robins turned to Joseph and the testosterone levels rose. I opened my psychic senses and had to look down to hide my reaction. Agent Joseph Connelly reeked of testosterone and his brain buzzed with protective vibes. No, it wasn’t my new friend’s brain making my stomach roil like an acid roller coaster and forcing me to swallow the urge to gag. It was Robins’ mind. He was an Infected. I needed to find a way to tell Connelly without explaining how I knew and without alerting Robins to the fact that I knew.

  Peachy. Fucking peachy. Bad enough they controlled a large section of the army, but they’d infiltrated the FBI as well? Part of me wanted to run home and hug my kids, to forget all of this and go back to being “normal” like before. I knew I wouldn’t. To protect my kids, I couldn’t. For better or worse, my immunity made me the best candidate to fight them without spreading the disease. Lucky fucking me.

  If I were a regular woman, I’d have slobbered all over him by now. My acting skills weren’t up to that level of pretending, but I could flirt with the best of them. I turned my face up to his and stepped into his personal space.

  “They grow them big in Texas, don’t they,” I purred, still gripping his hand. I fluttered my eyelashes.

  He immediately turned his attention on me. I mean turned it on like a light switch. His brown eyes bored through me. Knowing what he was made me feel like steak bones thrown to a pack of dogs. I wished I hadn’t thought of that particular analogy. The roller coaster of acid gurgling in my gut moved into high speed. I’d have the death circle in there in a minute if I couldn’t calm down.

  He smiled, putting a full dose of charm into it. His power crawled up my arms. Goose bumps broke out on my flesh. Thankfully, I wasn’t excited by this guy like I’d been with the asshole at the bar. Slimy never did work on me.

  But shit, he was scary good. Because of his brown eyes, I couldn’t be sure if he was one of the people with the Ultimate form of the virus just by looking. If not, he didn’t need the extra powers. Several women gravitated our way without a reason they were aware of, but which I was only too well cognizant. When I caught their eyes, they shook their heads as if coming out of a trance and left the area.

  Shit. Fuck. Shit. I needed a mantra and cursing seemed as good as any for the situation I found myself caught in. No one I’d ever encountered could affect women from across the room. He closed the distance between us so our bodies were scant inches apart. I held my breath and kept my eyes lowered.

  “Let’s go out tonight, just you and me,” he whispered.

&nbs
p; Whispered or not, Agent Connelly heard him.

  “She can’t,” he interrupted curtly. “We have work to do. Come on, Serena.” He pulled me out of Agent Robins’ grip and toward a small cubicle.

  Relief washed over me so profoundly, I felt dizzy. My previous encounters paled in comparison to Robins’ appeal. Did higher allure translate into more physical strength as well? I rubbed my arms in an attempt to comfort myself and get rid of the goose bumps.

  The effort of fighting off his allure brought my headache back and I wanted to sock Robins’ perfect face in retaliation. I wanted to return the favor tenfold, starting with a kickass headache and ending with his balls nailed to the wall. I scowled, realizing I’d left my damned headache pills in the car. Great. Now my head would get worse, not better.

  I jumped in surprise when Joseph’s hand suddenly appeared in my line of vision. It held two white pills. “Aspirin, not ibuprofen like you had in the car. It’s better than nothing for your headache.”

  Startled at his insightfulness, I looked him in the eyes. He nodded and flickered his eyes over at Robins, who stood where we’d left him. How the hell Connelly figured out I had a headache and its cause baffled me, but I was grateful.

  I grabbed the two aspirin and started searching for a vending machine or water cooler. Something—anything—to take the meds with. He touched my arm and handed me an unopened bottle of water. Interesting. He silently tried to tell me something else, but I was clueless. The pain in my head throbbed to the beat of Copacabana and didn’t leave much room for catching subtleties.

  I took the aspirin with a slight shake of my head to indicate to him my baffled brain. “I need to call my kids.” And I needed to get out of sight of Special Agent fuck-head.

  Joseph looked at me so long, I began to wonder if he’d heard me. Finally, he spoke up. “There’s a woman’s restroom down the hall.” He pointed me to the hallway on the right. My mind spun through his answer. It made no sense after my question.

  Oh. I got it. A little slow on the uptake there, Serena. I could have privacy from the special agent. He wasn’t female and couldn’t follow me. I nodded and mumbled thanks, feeling like an idiot. Following the direction his hand indicated, I moved down the hall.

  The bathroom had a convenient, large sign and I thumbed the phone number in as soon as I entered and locked myself in a stall. No answer first time I rang. Maybe I’d been dealing with zombies too long, but my heart jumped in my throat. I dialed again.

  This time my nanny/lab technician answered. My breath let out in a short gasp of relief.

  “Hello,” she said. “How are you, Miss Rouge?” My instincts tingled. My breath threatened to strangle me as I sought to keep calm.

  She never called me by my last name unless something was wrong, part of our code. From that point on, we said everything in code. “I’m fine. How are you?” I said carefully. No problem on my end.

  “I’ve been busy cooking. I made three pies yesterday.” Pies, meant spies. Shit.

  “Really? Any left for me?”

  “We haven’t eaten them yet. Was saving it for tonight.” So they’d been there since yesterday.

  “How are my kids doing? Getting their homework done?” Were my kids safe and were they there, at home?

  “Fine, for now. They’ve been getting their homework done. They missed school today, though.”

  Fuck. They were being held captive. “Did you call their teachers and explain?”

  “No, I figured I’d write a note tomorrow.” Damn. No chance to call the police and ransom likely.

  “Can I talk to them?” Were they hurt and able to talk to me?

  “Um, let me check.” First breakdown. She couldn’t give a definitive answer. She wasn’t checking with the kids to see if they wanted to talk to me, but with their captors. My jaw hurt. I forced myself to breathe and relaxed my jaw.

  Something clicked in my brain. I was in the middle of an FBI office! What was I doing huddling in a bathroom cubby like a teen hiding from her parent? I left the stall and ran out of the bathroom, not caring who saw me. I waved Joseph down and mimed for paper and pencil. While waiting for Lori to get back on the phone, I jotted down the information for him.

  My kids and babysitter being held hostage. Three of them. HELP ME!

  My hands started to shake before I finished the last words. My heart thumped hard against my ribs. My kids were in danger. I felt a fresh menace breathing down my neck and turned. Special Agent Gene Robins stood there. His eyes glittered. My hand reached for my gun. No thought as to the rightness of it or if I should pull a gun in an FBI office, I just reached for it instinctively.

  Chapter 6

  I nearly screamed in frustration when someone stopped my movement. The knowing look on Special-Agent-about-to-be-dead’s face pushed me to the edge. My trigger finger itched.

  My anger ran beyond measure. Blood pumped through my body like horses running the Kentucky Derby. I turned to see who’d dared to stop me while in a killing mood. Joseph. My eyes were hard, yet he looked at me with uncompromising compassion. It stopped my frenzy cold.

  My confusion at his soft look helped still the instinctive reaction to my kids being in danger. Right. No murdering people in front of a bunch of FBI agents. Bad mojo, that. Fuck. I nodded to show I was back in control and he dropped his hand from my arm. I put my hand in my back pocket as if it had been my intention all along.

  I turned back to the agent, my whole being wishing for his death. My kids were in danger and this bozo knew something. I had to trust Joseph to do his job. My mind rebelled. I had my own to-do list. I wanted to charge in. Torture him. Make him order my boys’ release. Torture him again. Then kill him.

  Somewhere along the line, someone decreed mothers were to be soft, cuddly. Maybe it was instinct. Maybe it was the all-encompassing love. Or maybe they saw what mothers were really capable of and needed to conceal it. I didn’t know. I could be soft and loving, when my boys needed it. But I was tough as nails about what they were allowed to do. No disrespecting. No slouching on school or chores.

  That touted motherly instinct? It came with a dark side—kill. I would kill to protect my kids. My eyes met Robins’ and he stood a little straighter. I saw him reassessing me, but didn’t care. He needed to know my intentions if my kids were hurt.

  It took too long for my kids to get to the phone and my emotions swirled in a dark vortex of death and despair. While Robins and I had a stare down, Joseph signaled his partner. He handed the note I’d written to his partner, who looked up from the paper in surprise. I stepped away from Robins and nodded confirmation at Dave. My mood didn’t improve when I noticed the crutches. My kids.

  “Mommy!” rang in my ear. My throat constricted and tears fell down my face in rapid succession. My ten year old hadn’t called me mommy in years. His fear was palpable in that one word.

  “Seth,” I whispered. I cleared my throat and spoke again. “Seth. Hi, honey. How’re you feeling?”

  “I’m tired of sitting on that chair. They’re not letting us play games.”

  His young voice was so belligerent, I choked on my laugh. “I’m sorry, honey. Who are they?”

  I heard a voice in the background and Seth didn’t answer.

  “Mom?” Kyle called.

  My knees buckled. I backed up a few steps to a desk and leaned on it. Both boys were alive and relatively well, considering. Everyone backed up with me. Even Robins. The man must lack a survival instinct. Seriously. Having him close was so tempting. I wanted to scratch my trigger finger’s itch.

  “Kyle, are you okay?” I asked instead of giving into temptation.

  “No, we’re not okay. Some assholes are here and threatening all of us, even Lori. When are you coming home?” My son. I was proud.

  “As soon as I c—” I started to reply, but heard the sound of something brushing over the mouthpiece and a stranger’s voice came on the line.

  “Here’s the deal, Ms. Rouge,” the nameless voice said. “We�
�re bringing your kids to El Paso. Any funny business like what happened in the hotel today, and your kids pay. Do as you’re asked by our leader, and we’ll let them go. Any questions?”

  Yeah, which asshole wants to die first? My teeth hurt. Probably because they were clenched to hold the words back. Joseph had his head next to my ear so he could hear as well. He motioned for me to answer.

  “How can I get ahold of you to talk to my kids? I need to know they’re safe at all times.” Needed it like I needed to breathe.

  “We’ll let you know. In the meantime, cooperate. Your kids’ lives depend on it.”

  “What’s your name,” I asked softly. If Kyle could hear my voice, he’d know it meant big trouble. Things weren’t so bad when Mom yelled. It was the quiet voice they’d learned to dread.

  “Richard,” he replied after a long pause.

  “Listen, Dick,” I said, emphasizing the derogatory nature of the nickname. “If one hair on my children’s heads is out of place, I’ll hold you personally responsible. Ask Andrea what that means.”

  I clicked the phone off. Robins caught my eye at the end, a look of fear and interest crossed his face at the mention of Andrea’s name.

  “I’m the writer they asked for,” I told Robins. “They have my kids and are coming this way.” My gut said Robins’ involvement was more than peripheral. Being an Infected didn’t automatically mean one was involved with the group developing the super virus. Nevertheless, I’d stack money on Shere Kahn.

  I watched surprise cross his features before he schooled it back to a professional mask. Joseph put his body between us, neatly taking my arm and turning me back to his desk. He motioned for me to sit in the chair opposite his. Reluctantly, I sat. My face felt frozen. I tried to get my professionalism back, but I wasn’t as cold as Robins. My kids were in danger.

  “Serena. Look at me.” Joseph’s voice was calm, yet demanding.

  “My kids,” I whispered hoarsely. It was all I could say.

  “We’ll get them back. Dave already started the process. He’s calling local police right now. As well as the closest FBI office. Maybe we can get them back before they leave town. If not, we know they’re coming this way.”