“And I wouldn’t expect you to, either. But I do need your loyalty and your attention. Can I count on both?”
“Of course. Whatever you need, I’ll take care of it.”
Zimmer pointed at the dog. “First up, I want you to kill that thing. Right now. This instant.”
Sergeant Barkley must have understood what the man had just said. He shot to all fours and lurched ahead, barking and snapping at Zimmer like a wild animal.
Simms yanked back on the leash, struggling to keep the dog from climbing onto the desk and taking a chomp out of the Zimmer’s face. “Down boy! Down!”
Zimmer never moved, his expression holding numb. It was almost as if he knew the animal would be held in check and never get loose.
It took every ounce of strength, but Simms managed to keep Barkley back, though it wasn’t easy. The dog was strong, far stronger than he ever imagined, yanking on his arms with each lunge at Zimmer. “Easy now. Down boy. Sit.”
Simms continued to wrestle with the leash, eventually pulling Barkley back from the desk by about a foot.
When he felt the tension in the leather lessen for a moment, Simms dropped to a knee and wrapped his arms around the dog’s neck, bringing him in close in a tight hug. “It’s okay, buddy. Calm down.”
Zimmer folded his hands on the desk. “Let me know when you’re done fucking around with that mutt.”
Simms didn’t have a response. Not yet, not with the dog continuing the rabid barking through the hug. “Shhhh. It’s okay, boy. Everything is going to be fine.”
Barkley snapped and growled a few more times before sending three more ear-ringing barks at Zimmer. Seconds later, Barkley finally stopped, giving Simms a chance to catch his breath and reset his arms. “That’s better. Good boy.”
“Well, I’m waiting,” Zimmer said.
“You want me to do it now. Really?” Simms asked, choosing words he hoped would not set off the dog again.
“Yes, with your hands. Look him in the eye when you do. It’s more personal that way. I want you to look deep inside and see what’s going on in there when you do.”
Simms shook his head. “I don’t know if I can do that, sir. This is Summer’s dog. She’ll be pissed.”
“Which is exactly why I want you to do it. Right now. I need to know where your allegiance stands.”
“My allegiance is with you. And her. And this complex. I just can’t do what you’re asking to a defenseless animal.”
Zimmer looked at Barkley, then back at Simms. “I’d hardly say that thing is defenseless, would you?”
Simms shook his head, unable to form any words in response.
“Fine,” Zimmer said, opening a drawer on his desk. He put his hand inside, then pulled out a semi-automatic handgun with a wide bore.
Zimmer pointed it a Simms. “Perhaps this will help clarify things a bit. Call it motivation from someone who is a whole lot more observant than you. And far more vested in what happens around here.”
“Why are you doing this?”
“Because it needs to be done,” Zimmer said, bringing his free hand up to the weapon. He grabbed the slide and racked it, injecting a round into the chamber. “So get to it, or I put a bullet in that pretty face of yours.”
CHAPTER 9
Stanley Fletcher awoke with a start, coughing from a burn in his lungs. His body was twisted on its side, like a piece of licorice, and there was something hard pressing against his back. He went to open his eyes, but his eyelids didn’t respond, holding tight as if something had caked them shut.
When he brought his hands up and wiped his eyelids, he felt what he could only describe as loose, fine-grained material. Mounds of it, flaking off with the touch of his fingertips.
He straightened his legs and turned over from his side to sit up, working his hands faster to free his vision. It took a bit of effort, but he managed to clean off enough gunk to open his eyes, realizing he’d been lying against a wall.
Fletcher coughed again, seeing the air around him filled with billowing clouds of gray. Concrete gray. There was also a hint of burnt hair in the air. Since he ran bald, it meant the odor was most likely coming from his second in command. “Hey, Dice. You still with me?”
A grunt came from a few feet away, somewhere beyond the veil of dust. Then a rustling sound reached his ears before a weak voice penetrated the cloud in the room. “Yeah, sort of. What the hell happened?”
“Not exactly sure. What’s the last thing you remember?”
“Running for my life.”
“Down a hallway.”
“Roger that.”
“And that explosion,” Fletcher said, pressing to his feet. His mind wasn’t working properly, but his hands were, waving at the air in front of him. He continued to cough, as did Dice. “The Scabs—”
“—were right behind us.”
“Like a stampede.”
“Damn, they’re fast.”
Fletched nodded, turning his head to the side and letting a wad of spit fly. He could taste the concrete on his tongue. “They must have found something. That’s why they were high-tailing it.”
“Explosives, obviously.”
“A tripwire?”
“That’s my guess, boss. Stipple trained them well but I’m sure he never taught them how to watch for tripwires.”
“That damn Edison. He must’ve taught his crew how to boobytrap. Knew we’d walk right into it, too.”
Dice coughed twice before he responded. “Edison? Not so sure about that. Krista, maybe.”
“Actually, you’re right. This is more Krista’s style,” Fletcher said, twisting a lip before he spoke again. “How’s your hair?”
“What?”
“I smell burnt hair. It obviously can’t be mine.”
There was a long pause. “Seems fine to me.”
“Then what the hell?”
“The Scabs, sir. They have hair,” Dice replied. “Or at least they used to.”
“That fireball—”
Dice huffed, not waiting for Fletcher to finish his thought. “Damn near cooked my ass right before we dove in here.”
Fletcher felt a hand on his arm. “Good thing that door was unlocked, or we’d be toast for sure.”
Dice tugged him forward. “You think Stipple made it?”
“With that heart?”
“Only one way to know for sure,” Dice answered, leading them toward the outline of a door frame. “How long do you think we’ve been out?”
“No way to know, but my stomach’s growling, so I’m guessing at least an hour. Maybe more.”
“Holy fuck. My head’s pounding like crazy.”
They made it to the hallway and stepped outside, finding the air in the corridor free of dust. There were bodies littering the floor, looking like a charbroiled sea of skin.
“Talk about your impromptu barbeque,” Dice said with a hint of levity in his voice.
Fletcher walked to the left. “Gotta react when the creatures attack.”
“I’m sorry, boss, what?”
“Just something that girl said.”
“What girl?”