“Beg your pardon, sir, but how do we know you test clean now?” Heidi asked.
“If you’ll let us through the fence, you can keep us backed against it while you run blood tests,” I offered, hoping that the fact that I was still capable of coherent speech would be a point in my favor. “If any of us comes up infected, you’ll be able to shoot us before we amplify.”
She and Carlos exchanged a look. Carlos nodded. “All right,” he said. “Step back from the gate.”
We did as we were told, Steve giving me a thoughtful look as the gate slid open. “You’re good at this.”
“I’ve had a lot of practice,” I said. Rick and I followed him into the motor pool.
Carlos chucked us blood testing units while Heidi reported on the status of the other units, still remaining at a safe distance. Susan was confirmed as infected; she’d been tagged by a political analyst as she was helping Mike evacuate a group of survivors to a rooftop. She stayed on the ground after she was bitten, shooting everything in sight before taking out the ladder and shooting herself. About the best ending you could hope for if you got infected in a combat zone. Mike was fine. So, surprisingly, was Paolo. There was still no word from Andres, and three more groups of security agents and survivors were expected to reach the motor pool at any time. Steve absorbed the news without changing his expression; he didn’t even flinch when the needles on his testing unit bit into his hand. I flinched. After the number of blood tests I’d had recently, I was tired of being punctured.
Heidi and Carlos relaxed when our tests flashed clean. “Sorry, sir,” said Carlos, walking over with the biohazard bags. “We needed to be sure.”
“Standard outbreak protocol,” Steve said, dismissing the apology with a wave of his hand. “Keep holding this ground.”
“Sir?” said Heidi. “Won’t you be holding it with us?”
“We have somewhere we need to be,” I said quietly.
Maybe it was the look on my face, or the obvious anguish in my voice. Whatever it was, they didn’t argue.
“One of the armored SUVs should do,” said Steve. “Find the fastest one that’s still on the grounds.” Carlos and Heidi blinked at him. “Move!” he barked, and they moved, scattering for the guard station where the keys to the parked vehicles were stored. Steve ignored their burst of activity, leading me to the weapons locker and keying open the lock. “Candy store is open.”
“You’re a real people person, aren’t you?” asked Rick. “Prom King in school?”
“Four times,” Steve said.
I ignored them, focusing on grabbing boxes of bullets and shoving them into my pockets with a single-minded determination that was frightening, even to me. It felt like I was running on a countdown. As to what it was counting down to…
Carlos emerged from the guard station and tossed a set of keys to Steve. “We can unlock the rear gate, but once the central computer realizes the seal’s been broken—”
“How long can we have?”
“Thirty seconds.”
“That’s long enough. You two hold your ground. Keep anyone who makes it here safe. Mason, Cousins, you’re with me.”
“All the way,” I said, and followed him to the car.
Once we were all inside, belts fastened and weapons secured, Steve started the engine and drove us to the gate. Carlos was already waiting, ready to hit the manual override. The manual exits exist in case of accidental or ineffective lockdown, to give the uninfected a chance to escape. They require a blood test and a retinal scan, and breaking quarantine without a damn good reason is a quick way to get yourself sent to prison for a long time. Carlos was risking a lot on Steve’s order.
“You have good men,” I said.
“I know,” said Steve, and hit the gas.
The roads outside the Center were clear. That’s standard during a confirmed outbreak in a non-congested area. The people inside the quarantine zone will survive or not without interference; it’s up to them the minute the fences come down. So the big health orgs and military intervention teams wait until the worst of it’s had time to burn itself out before they head in. Let the infection peak. Ironically, that makes it safer, because it’s trying to save the survivors that gets people killed. Once you know everyone around you is already dead, it gets easier to shoot without asking questions.
“How long since quarantine was declared?” asked Rick.
“Twenty-seven minutes.”
Standard CDC response time says you leave a quarantine to cook for forty-five minutes before you go in. Given our proximity to the city, they wouldn’t just be responding by air; they’d be sending in ground support, to make sure nobody broke quarantine before they declared it safe. “Can we make it?”
“We’ll have to,” said Steve, and sped up.
We were just crossing the Sacramento city limits when the first CDC copters passed overhead, zooming toward the Center. Three more followed close behind, in closed arrow formation. I leaned over and clicked on the radio, tuning it to the emergency band. “—repeat, this is not a drill. Remain in your homes. If you are on the road, remain in your vehicle until you have reached a safe location. If you have seen or had direct contact with infected individuals, contact local authorities immediately. Repeat, this is not a drill. Remain in—”
Steve turned the radio off. “You know that breaking quarantine is a federal offense, don’t you?”
“I don’t care right now.” I leaned back in my seat, closing my eyes. Rick’s hand settled on my shoulder, trying to offer comfort. If I didn’t think about it too hard, I could almost pretend that he was Shaun.
“All right, then.” He hit the gas again. The SUV rolled faster, hitting the end of the trestle and blazing onward toward the city. He glanced at me as we drove, adding, “I’m sorry about your brother. He was a good man. He’ll be missed.”
“Thank you.” The idea of looking at his face—it would be so earnest, if his words were anything to judge by, so anxious for understanding—made me tired all over again. There was nothing I could do now, nothing I could do until we got to the hall and to the man who killed Shaun. So I didn’t open my eyes, and I didn’t say anything, and we drove on.
Five: Georgia
If the guard at the reception hall thought there was something odd about us arriving in a dusty, dented SUV over an hour after the Center went into lockdown, he didn’t say anything. Our blood tests came back clean; that was what his job required him to give a damn about, and so he just waved us inside. He didn’t ask any questions. I was relieved and angry at the same time. Maybe if people asked more questions, we wouldn’t be in this mess.
We parked next to an empty press bus, the three of us pausing only long enough to check the readiness of our weapons before we walked to the elevator. We all got in together, even Steve.
I glanced at him and frowned. “You don’t have a press pass.”
“Don’t need one,” he said. “The Center’s under quarantine. By contract, I’m actually obligated to circumnavigate any security barricade between myself and the Senator.”
“Good,” I said. I looked to Rick. “When we get inside, you let me talk to Tate. I want you staying out of the way.” I wanted him to survive this little adventure. I wanted one of us—just one—to make it out alive.