Spore Series | Book 3 | Fight Read online

  Moe turned and sprinted across the next street and through an open yard to the cluster of rocks where Klah and Aponi waited on their quads.

  “Where’s my dad?” Klah asked.

  He climbed onto his four-wheeler and leveled his gaze at the man. “John got hit.”

  “You left him?” Klah climbed off his bike and raised his pistol at Moe.

  Moe held up his hands in a defensive manner. “Hold up, Klah! Your dad got hit four or five times. He might be alive, but he won’t survive the trip back. You can’t—”

  “I’m not leaving him behind,” Klah looked back where the soldiers shouted. They must have found Klah’s father. The man glared at him and then sprinted off into the darkness.

  He turned his attention to Aponi where she sat on her quad. The tall woman’s thumb hovered over the ignition switch as her head swiveled back and forth with indecision.

  “He’ll get himself killed,” Moe stated, helping her with the process. “One of us has to make it back to Chinle. Preferably both of us. And I’m not waiting for you to decide.”

  Moe hit the starter on his quad and spun out as he got turned around. He didn’t know the quad paths like the others, but he’d figure it out.

  He sped along the uneven ground, arms shaking with the jittery ride. The sounds of gunfire from behind twisted his heart. He didn’t know John Wolf well, but the man had a strong heart, and he’d cared about the welfare of his people. More importantly, he’d been right. The military had put a lid on Window Rock to halt the spread of a mysterious infection, and he had to warn Chinle.

  He took a deep breath and forced himself to slow down so he didn’t throw himself off the four-wheeler. He couldn’t risk using his head lamp, so he’d drive in the darkness until he’d put some distance between himself and Window Rock.

  With a sudden realization, Moe cursed himself. He’d never make it home, because the spare gasoline cans were on the other quads. If Moe returned for them, the soldiers would shoot him. He leveled his gaze across the desert. If he ran out of gas, he’d walk. If he couldn’t walk, he’d crawl. Whatever it took to warn his people, he’d do.

  A moment later, the sound of another quad engine reached his ears, and Aponi rumbled past him waving for him to follow. He edged in behind the woman, trusting her to get them back in one piece and thankful she’d made the right decision.

  Chapter 9

  Jessie Talby, Yellow Springs, Ohio

  Jessie got out of bed with a spring in her step. She grabbed some fresh clothes and made her way to the community shower, stood under the hot water, and got clean, even taking the time to wash her thin-woven braids that streaked from her temple to the back of her neck.

  She’d have to redo the entire thing soon, and without help from her regular stylist. Epic Braids wouldn’t be reopening, and Jessie chuckled at the grim irony. She might as well shave her head, considering there was no one left to impress anymore.

  “Might as well make it easy on myself,” she murmured.

  Not even the end of the world could break her excellent mood. For the first time in a week, she didn’t feel sick. Her throat was clear, and she swallowed fine. The brain fog clouding her mind had disappeared, and Jessie wanted to enjoy being alive and healthy for a while.

  Jessie dressed in a pair of running pants and a T-shirt and stretched her arms above her head, testing for any side effects. Her stomach ached a little, and she had the occasional dizzy spell, but her body responded well to the Asphyxia treatments. Paul had given her a notepad to record her thoughts, and he examined her at least three times a day.

  She returned to the staff quarters and recorded the stomach issues in the notepad. Then she tossed the pad down, dressed, and took a walk. The central control room hummed with digital life, and she noticed Bryant had decorated his computer desk in soldier’s patches and a picture of a woman.

  Jessie walked over and stared down at the picture. The woman’s sable hair lay in a thick braid over her shoulder, and her blue eyes held Jessie in a mesmerizing gaze from the paper. The name tag on the woman’s military shirt read M Bryant.

  “You must be Missy,” she whispered. “Very pretty.”

  Jessie exited the control center and made her way to Paul’s garden hall. It seemed more like a cavern to her, like something she might explore on a Mammoth Cave tour. The rich smells of loamy earth greeted her, and she stopped at the first section and leaned against the stone wall to peer at the myriad of plant life spread before her.

  With a deep breath of fresh garden air, Jessie put her foot on the stone wall to climb into the garden, but hesitated. She didn’t know if Paul would appreciate someone stomping through his garden. She’d better ask first.

  Strolling along, the sound of rock music rose in echoes through the chamber. Jessie called it “dad music,” though she liked some of it. At the end of the gardens, she stepped into the commons room and crossed to the mini-fridge, retrieved a bottled water and popped it open.

  She didn’t see the two men on the other side of the room until one gave a muffled grunt. Jessie turned and watched Paul and Bryant digging through a closet. She grinned, crossed the room and stood behind the soldier. He wore his usual fatigue bottoms and boots with a white T-shirt as he peered over Paul’s shoulder into the closet’s depths. Paul wore jeans and a button up denim shirt as he stooped and searched for something.

  “Where’s Fiona?”

  Bryant turned and flashed her a friendly smile. “Hey, Jessie,” he said, looking around the commons area. “She’s running around here somewhere. Finding trouble, no doubt.”

  “As long as she doesn’t unplug my servers,” Paul Henderson declared.

  “Speaking of trouble,” Jessie peered into the closet. “What are you two up to?”

  “We’re working on some advanced surveillance,” Bryant said. “We need to know if Burke is still around, and we can’t cover a lot of ground on foot.”

  “Okay, but how?”

  “Here it is,” Paul said, and he backed out of the closet and held up his prize with a wide grin.

  “A remote control drone.” Jessie gave the machine an impressed nod. “We use them all the time in our investigations. Well, we used to, anyway.”

  “Now is your time to shine,” Paul said, handing the machine to her.

  She accepted it, weighing its lightness in her hands as her eyes roamed over the frame and propellers. “I’m not sure I should be outside, are you?”

  Paul looked down at her slippers and raised his eyes to the top of her head. “You seem fine to me. Are you feeling okay?”

  “Yes, I’m great except for a tummy ache and a little dizziness.”

  “Okay, then. Let’s do this.”

  “You don’t mind driving?” Bryant asked. “I’ve played with drones with my cousins, but I end up smashing them into trees.”

  “I can do it.” Jessie nodded with enthusiasm, then she placed the drone on the gaming table. “Just let me put my shoes on.”

  “All right,” Paul said. “We’ll meet you upstairs.”

  Ten minutes later, Jessie took a side door through the decontamination area and found Paul and Bryant standing near the front door. Bryant held the drone, and Paul held the remote control, which he handed to her.

  “Ready to go?” Paul nodded with encouragement.

  She stared at the door, checking her emotions. It would be the first time since being sick she’d be outside without respiratory protection, and part of her wanted to run back and grab a mask. She blinked at the squat wizard-like mycologist. The days of year-long testing were behind them, and she’d put her faith in Paul’s serum and booster therapy. A mask would only erode that trust, for herself more than Paul.

  “Sure,” Jessie said with an eager shrug. To be honest, she looked forward to a break in the doldrums of living in Paul’s basement. Over the past few days, she’d slept, coughed, did some limited walking, and watched Fiona bash Bryant at Connect Four. It would be nice getting outside for once.


  Paul stepped to a flat, black scanner resting on the wall and pressed his palm to it. It buzzed, and the front door clicked open and slid to the side. Paul trundled outside with Bryant and Jessie behind him. They stood in a low, mossy valley penned in on all sides by woods. The sun shone down through a gap in the trees, lighting the back corner of the valley in a golden glow that stunned Jessie’s heart.

  A breeze blew through, touching her cheeks. She closed her eyes and grinned. “Oh, wow. That’s amazing.” The beauty of the moment filled her heart with unexplainable emotion, and a tear streaked down her cheek. She looked over at Paul in apology.

  “Take your time.” Paul waved her off, gazing at their surroundings. “Take it all in.”

  “Birds.” Jessie’s astonishment showed as her ears tuned in to the chirping noises. “I thought they’d be dead.”

  “Nature always finds a way,” Paul said with a fond glance around. “I’d say some animals and some plants have natural defenses against the fungus. I’d love to do more field work, but it’s not safe with Burke snooping around.”

  “We’ll find him right now.” Jessie gave Bryant a firm nod. The soldier placed the drone on the ground near her feet, turned it on, and backed away.

  She flipped up the camera screen and turned on the remote control, then she pushed the right joystick with her thumb as the drone buzzed to life and leapt off the ground where it hovered at four feet. Jessie lowered the propeller speed as the two men stepped back to give the machine room. With a concentrated stare, she played with the two joysticks, getting familiar with the drone’s response and rotation.

  “Go up through the trees.” Paul pointed at the gap where the sun shined through.

  “That’ll be perfect,” Jessie said. She sent the drone upward toward the break.

  “Turn on the camera,” Paul said. The two men stood behind her and peered over her shoulder.

  She flipped on the camera, laughing at Paul’s childlike enthusiasm. Together they watched the top section of Paul’s house appear. Jessie rotated the drone and reversed it until the three of them came into view.

  Paul waved at the camera. “There you go.”

  Jessie played with the magnification, zooming in and out until the controls grew familiar. “I think I’ve got it.”

  She increased the drone’s elevation, sending it soaring upward through the break. Jessie’s stomach turned as her eyes balanced between the drone and the screen, and she shook her head to clear her senses.

  In a burst of sunlight, the drone broke through and spun in a slow turn. The three of them watched the high definition screen, gazing over an ocean of treetops laden with patches of black and crimson fungus.

  “Check it out,” Paul said. “The sun has baked the top layer. The fungus up high is dead or dormant. I’d bet the air is breathable up there.”

  “That’s a good thing, right?” Jessie glanced at the older man.

  “It’s a great thing,” Paul said. “Mother Nature always finds a balance. Humankind got in the way this time.”

  “Okay, have a look around.” Bryant was eager to get a view of their surroundings. “What’s the range on this, Paul.”

  “Uh, two miles, I think.”

  “Okay, so flying west to downtown Yellow Springs is out of the question.” Bryant scratched his head.

  “If Burke was anywhere, he’d be in the Clifton Mill area,” Paul said. “That’s less than a mile east.”

  “East it is,” Jessie mumbled, and she turned the camera east and flew the drone in that direction.

  Reaching the edge of the woods, she elevated the drone as high as it would go to gaze over the Clifton suburb. The neighborhood lay in a quiet, wooded area with older homes, churches, and larger buildings Jessie assumed were businesses.

  She didn’t immediately see Burke’s black RV. “Any clues, guys?”

  Bryant’s brow furrowed in thought. “Start on the north side and work your way south.”

  “Easy enough,” Jessie said, and she slid the drone along the tree line and pushed forward. With a flick of the joysticks, Jessie flew the drone from north to south, scanning with the camera to take in more of their surroundings.

  “There’s a lot of woods,” she said.

  “Just keep looking.” Bryant’s lips pursed as his eyes focused on the screen. “You’re a fine driver, if you don’t mind me saying.”

  “Well, thanks,” Jessie replied in a clipped but professional tone. Her tongue weaseled its way between her lips as she concentrated. When she’d finished searching half the town, she shook her head in frustration. “We’ll have to fly lower if he’s parked under some trees.”

  “Then that’s what we’ll do,” Bryant said. “We can work in shifts. I mean, I’ll be a lot slower than you, but I can still cover some ground.”

  “You can practice after I finish my first sweep,” Jessie said, working the drone south at a slow pace.

  She reached the last house in the neighborhood and hovered above a long red building resting on the edge of a creek.

  “That’s the Clifton Mill,” Paul said. “I have lunch there sometimes. They’ve got a mean Reuben.”

  She gave a brief grunt in acknowledgment before raising the camera to peer across a circular gravel lot behind the Mill. The lot was empty but for a pile of wood stacked in the center and several old RVs parked along the southern edge of the tree line. She also spied a dump truck, an excavator, and a ladder truck parked inside the circle along the easternmost curve.

  As Jessie panned, the sun glinted off a shiny black surface. Curious, she angled the drone toward the lot and flew in low. While she’d never seen Burke Birkenhoff’s RV, she imagined it would be like the one on the screen—sleek and black like an ominous torpedo.

  Trees bowed over the vehicle, shading it from the worst of the sun. They’d parked it between two hulking, broken down RVs from the ‘80s. If Jessie hadn’t had the perfect angle, she might have missed it completely.

  “Bingo,” she grinned.

  Chapter 10

  Bishop Shields, Ft. Collins, Colorado

  “Who am I speaking to?” Bishop asked in a quiet tone that tensed with his rising anger. “I want to speak to someone in charge.”

  He’d tried dozens of numbers, starting with Kim’s cell phone and then her office line at the Washington CDC branch. Bishop had gone through all her old office numbers from her Ft. Collins branch and then tried members of their extended family. He wasn’t surprised when no one answered.

  In a face-palm moment, he’d dialed 911 and got a response. Only, the person on the other line was not interested in cooperating.

  “My superior is busy, sir,” the woman said. “This is no longer a civilian line, but I can direct you to the nearest FEMA camp—”

  “There are no civilians left, ma’am, and the mold cloud, or whatever it was, wiped out the FEMA camp.”

  “Are you with a regimented unit or patrol?” She asked with a sigh. “You’ve reached a subdivision of the military switchboard reserved for lost field units. Do you need support?”

  Bishop started to reply “no,” then he changed his mind. “Yes, I need support. I’m with the CDC here in Ft. Collins, Colorado. I work for Dr. Sam Randle. We’re locked down in the CDC offices, though we’ve received no guidance from the military.”

  Bishop hated lying, though dropping Kim’s old boss’s name didn’t feel like a stretch.

  “I understand, sir,” the woman said. “I can find a field unit near you or direct your call to one of the colonel’s staff. We designate CDC employees as top priority.”

  “I don’t need boots on the premises,” Bishop added a confident growl to his tone. “I need to get in contact with the CDC offices in Washington, DC. We were exchanging vital information with that office when our private communication link failed.”

  The woman paused as she clicked keys. “I don’t see an emergency number for that branch, but I could look around.”

  “Where are you locate
d? If you don’t mind me asking.”

  “Our center is located in Boca Raton, Florida, sir.”

  “And are you folks hanging in there?”

  The woman’s tone eased into something friendlier. “So far, so good. It’s no fun being locked underground though. We’re wondering if we’ll see the sun again.”

  “Hey, what’s your name?” Bishop realized the woman was experiencing the same sense of dread and hopelessness as himself, and he wanted to leave her feeling positive.

  “I’m Alex,” the woman replied in a softer tone.

  “Well, I’m Bishop Shields. And I’m sure we’ll get to see the sun again...” He wanted to say more to comfort her, though the words slipped from his mind with the world in such terrible shape. “I’ll do everything I can to make that happen.”

  “Thanks. I’ll ask around and call you back at this number soon as I find someone to help you.”

  “That would be great, Alex. Thank you.

  “Is there someone specific you’re looking for?”

  “Yes, ma’am. I’m looking for CDC agent Kim Shields. She works for Tom Flannery at the DC branch. It’s urgent that I speak with her as soon as possible. It’s life or death.”

  “Okay, Mr. Shields. Let me see what I can do.”

  Bishop listened as the line went dead, and he put his phone in standby mode and placed it on the table next to him. He tapped his fingers on the arm of his chair, bored already. It had only been two hours since he’d come in from his trip to the stadium, and he’d checked his wounded wrist a dozen times.

  Bishop spotted no signs of infection yet, though it might take days before symptoms showed. He imagined an ominous fungus patch forming beneath the bandage while he slept. With a shudder, Bishop stood with the phone in his hand and slipped beneath the stairs over to the storage area in search of something to do.

  He moved some boxes off the seats of an old faux leather couch, grabbed the arm, and pulled it away from the rest of the stored items. He placed the couch against the wall. Then he returned to the stored items and searched through his box of old Stephen King books.