Arrival By Wrath Part 23

Preston looked back toward the body. He reluctantly followed the CEO's instructions, moving away from it as the creature began to quiver. His gun was trained at the body, ready in the event it attempted to rise again like Gluttony had.

Instead, the corpse began to give off thin coils of dense smoke, vaporizing into the air. It soon transitioned into thick black smog as if the body were burning, filling the room. For a few moments it hung in the air like dark evening fog. However, it soon became apparent that there was life inside the mist.

In an instant, the smoke condensed, retreating back to the corpse.

A piercing resonance erupted, like the sound of a vacuum when all the air had been removed from a s.p.a.ce. It created a shockwave that knocked the two of them off their feet.

Both Preston and Argosi were thrown backward and hit the ground hard, coming to rest a few feet from where they had been standing. Preston wiped his hands on his jacket, seeing that they had been sullied by remnants of Wrath's footprints on the floor as he tried to stop himself.

"G.o.d d.a.m.n it," Argosi groaned from the other side of the room. "What do you suppose-" He was cut off by the sound of a baby crying.

The two men rose from the floor, approaching the former site of Wrath's corpse. There, inside what remained of the shattered husk, was a newborn infant, clean and unblemished. It looked totally human at first, until the freakish black veins erupted, exactly as they had on Wrath.

"Oh, my G.o.d," Preston stated in disbelief as he shuffled backward.

"He was right," Argosi said, offering an almost gleeful chuckle. "There was enough of the particle in the air after all. Killing Wrath put the levels of Particle N over the top."

Argosi walked calmly over to the door, inputting the code. Preston was too focused on the child to notice.

"I think this time we'll try to keep it from closing on us," he said, inputting another code.

The mechanisms inside groaned as the large door opened. l.u.s.t entered the freezer quickly, swaying back and forth as if purposely flaunting her looks.

What little clothing she had harbored traces of blood, presumably Jack's, on the front. Her hands were covered in it as well. Casually, she draped a few pieces of the fabric over her exposed chest as Preston aimed his Beretta the moment he saw her.

"Jack is okay," she stated, noting the anger in Preston's eyes.

"Jack!" Preston yelled, seeking confirmation he was still out there. "I need to know you're okay!"

A few nervous moments of silence pa.s.sed.

"Yeah, partner," his voice drifted in hazily. "I'm here."

By then, l.u.s.t had progressed over to the baby, picking it up carefully. She gestured to Argosi to give her his suit coat, which she used to wrap the infant. It began to cry again before she rocked it gently. The veins flared, but the child continued to drift off to sleep, barely noticing.

"Why did you decide to help me?" Preston asked Argosi. "Wrath would have given you anything, wouldn't he?"

"Not the one thing I really wanted," Argosi replied, as he looked at the child, then to Alexandra. "He was going to kill l.u.s.t, you know."

Preston noted the confirmatory nod from the CEO's lover. He chose to hide his unease, seeing the half-naked woman holding a baby with blood drenched hands. The scene was like something that appeared in the archives of the department's most disturbing case files made flesh.

"Apparently, I wasn't as useful to him as he would have liked," she stated, focusing on the child as she rocked it in her arms.

"I saw how terrible you both looked in the hospital," Preston said. "Wrath told me you couldn't survive without the blood. What will you do now without your drugs?"

"What do you mean, Detective?" l.u.s.t asked quizzically, looking up. "We now have an unlimited supply." She glanced back toward the baby sleeping softly in her arms. Even now, the veins crawled across its skin and subsided, but the child let out only small inaudible breaths, no differently than one would expect from a newborn.

Preston pulled his gun on Argosi, displaying fresh resolve. "There's no way I'm letting this plague get started again. You can't have it."

"Please," Argosi stated, mildly annoyed. "You know a bullet won't harm me."

"No, not you," Preston said, turning his gun on the infant. Argosi appeared instantly frightened, moving between them slowly.

"Are you really going to shoot a child, Detective?" l.u.s.t asked confidently. "Besides, we have no desire for this charade any longer. Tomorrow, Myers-Echowan will notice the absence of its CEO. And, unbeknownst to the world, Benton Argosi, along with his lover, Alexandra, will have disappeared, touring the globe with their new family."

"Family?" Preston said with disbelief. "Don't make me sick."

"What's the matter?" l.u.s.t asked. Her eyes were dark, showing a new depravity he hadn't witnessed in her before. "Are you jealous?"

Preston stared at the two lovers, now holding the closest thing they would have to a love child in their arms. They were a family, in the sickest sense of the word, and they meant to keep running, both from the law and their own humanity.

He took another look at the stiff, dried-out remains of the previous Wrath. The large syringe lay on the floor, intact next to the corpse's shriveled hand. Only a few moments and a gunshot had spared him from being exactly like Greed and l.u.s.t.

Preston lowered his gun, saying, "but I can't let this continue, here or abroad."

"You don't have the time to waste," Argosi said. "Remember, that truck is headed toward your partner's house as we speak. Are you going to fail his family just as you failed Elisabeth?"

Preston somehow kept himself from flying into rage. He wanted nothing more than to beat the former CEO to death with his one working hand.

"Fine," he said with fierce, but subdued anger. He turned the gun and fired two rounds into the large containers on the table. The bullets shattered the sides near the bottom of each plastic vat, sending black blood rus.h.i.+ng out onto the tabletop and streaming to the floor.

Argosi appeared furious, but l.u.s.t was still focused on the child, barely noticing the gunshots.

"Touche," Argosi relented. He offered a sarcastic wave as Preston looked out into the rest of the bas.e.m.e.nt.

"Jack!" Preston screamed as he moved toward the reinforced door, leaving the family behind. "We have to go now!"

As he exited the freezer, Preston saw his partner lying on the floor amid the debris-strewn floor of the factory's main bas.e.m.e.nt, practically as he'd left him. While his clothes were covered in blood, his arm had been patched up, just as l.u.s.t had said.

"So what's the scoop? You afraid you're gonna miss Wheel of Fortune or something?" Jack asked, trying to stand with a painful smile. He appeared shaken, but looked as if he could take on the world. Preston quickly helped him to his feet, noticing the pain in his partner's face accompanied by a barely noticeable groan. "Please tell me it's all wrapped up."

"We have to get going. This is much worse than we thought," Preston relayed with grim sentiment.

"It usually is," Jack said distantly.

Preston immediately picked up Agent Wilson's sidearm lying on the floor in the same spot where Argosi had left it. Quickly, he removed the clip, inspected it, then loaded it back into the weapon.

The entire time, Jack was looking with disbelief into the freezer, the white floor now covered in several gallons of catalyzed blood and what appeared to be a burnt body.

Preston placed the weapon in his coat and moved over to Jack. Picking him up and holding his partner steady, he helped him toward the stairs. They moved fairly quickly, considering his condition.

Jack let go after a few moments, now walking of his own volition. As quickly as he was able, he followed Preston back upstairs. The door to the stairwell was hanging open, presumably from when Greed and l.u.s.t had entered to save them, or more appropriately, save themselves.

"I've been trying to radio for backup this whole time," Jack said. "I couldn't get a signal down there. And that woman, l.u.s.t, she was her usual self, if you get my drift. Besides, she wouldn't even bother to help me after she patched me up."

"Right." Preston offered a distant smile, focusing on reaching the car as quickly as he could with his injured partner in tow. Once Jack had been informed where that truck was going, any levity in his voice would evaporate in an instant. He would wait until they were on the road before telling him.

"d.a.m.n," Jack said, seeing Preston's fearful expression. "It's that bad, huh? All right, fill me in."

"I'll drive," Preston said, ensuring that his partner wouldn't be both injured and in control of a car when he found out his family was about to be attacked.

Chapter 20.

It seemed like ages had pa.s.sed before they finally reached the cruiser. Peeling out of the parking lot, they left the SWAT team's vehicle behind. As it faded into the distance, Preston immediately radioed for backup, informing the station that three other trucks were headed toward various parts of the city to distribute the drug for free. Two were unknown, while the third was headed for Chicago General.

Against his better judgment, he told them to focus what remaining resources they had on stopping them rather than heading toward the factory. He knew it would be empty by the time anyone was able to respond.

As he relayed the message, Preston switched back and forth between the road and his partner. Jack's expression conveyed his grasp of the situation.

Upon receipt of confirmation that the department would be out in full force looking for the trucks, Preston anxiously described all that had just transpired in that bas.e.m.e.nt. He spoke quickly, making sure he didn't miss a single detail. Jack's expression was one of shock. The seasoned detective hung on every word, becoming pale and fragile the moment he heard of the driver's destination.

Preston imagined he'd appeared the same way eighteen months earlier. Despite the experience, he knew he had no tolerance for such a thing. Helping Jack wouldn't be as easy for him as it had been when their situations were reversed. Jack had always been the stronger one.

Fortunately, the trip was relatively short. Jack only lived about fifteen minutes from the final factory site, and although it was late afternoon, the Sunday traffic wasn't dense. Still, the outlook was bleak as the cruiser raced along the highway. They had no way of knowing just how large of a head start the dealer's truck had. a.s.suming that the driver had been on his way before they had even arrived with the SWAT team, it meant that it may have been too late by the time that Wrath had told him about the trucks.

"Why did you call for backup on only three trucks?" Jack asked. "You said there were four."

"Because, we're heading for the last one ourselves," Preston said, swerving in and out of spa.r.s.e traffic. The siren at the top of the car wailed as they exited the highway and sped through the inner streets of Chicago toward Jack's apartment. "The two Unis I had guarding your place will also be there. That'll be enough to handle one driver. Plus, we need to make sure that there are enough available units on the streets to take down the other three. I'm guessing we're spread a little thin right now."

Preston a.s.sured himself that the reason he'd just given his partner was convincing enough. There was no way he was going to let a room full of cops frighten Jack's family again.

"How can you know Wrath was telling you the truth?" Jack asked, growing more anxious. Preston could tell already that his partner was looking for any possible excuse to believe it could all be some kind of mistake or a lie. He knew the feeling all too well.

"Because," Preston said, looking away, "everything else she told me was true."

Jack retraced the story, realizing for the first time the difficulty his partner had with his own family. Every time he had asked him to dinner, he'd been spitting in his face.

"Look, I'm . . ." Jack said.

"We'll have to deal with it later," Preston said, his voice growing in intensity. "We're here."

The car came to a screeching halt outside of Jack's apartment building. At first glance, nothing appeared to be wrong. The Uni's police cruiser was parked where it should have been. It sat conspicuously by the curb in front of the building. From their position on the other side of the street, the detectives could see both officers were inside. There was no sign of a truck anywhere.

The number of cars parked along the street was minimal, so any suspicious vehicles would have stood out.

The building itself was located on a spa.r.s.ely used street within the city limits. Although part of Chicago proper, the neighborhood appeared practically suburban, full of houses, parks and well maintained buildings with no graffiti. However, just like in the alley near the hospital, the sidewalks had become utterly devoid of people, possibly sensing that there would soon be trouble.

Preston and Jack were on guard as they approached the squad car from across the street. Each held a gun in their still functioning hands. After coming up alongside the cop car, they stopped in their tracks.

Both officers inside had been shot. Their bodies had been repositioned with the driver's hand on the wheel to make it appear as if they were still alive. Each had a fresh, somewhat inconspicuous gunshot wound to the head. It had clearly been made with a small sidearm, possibly silenced. Either that or the sound of the shots hadn't travelled far and could have been ignored or mistaken for a car backfiring.

Still holding their guns, they made their way around to the back of the building, toward the tenant's parking lot.

There, like a kick to the stomach, they saw a small white van emblazoned with Myers-Echowan's logo.

"We're too late," Jack said fearfully.

Quickly, they ran up to the stationary vehicle. All of the windows were tinted with a temporary sheet of removable film, even the winds.h.i.+eld. It was impossible to see inside.

"This is the police," Preston said, his Beretta aimed squarely at the driver's side window. "I want you to step out of the car slowly with your hands up."

There was no response.

"He could be up there right now," Jack said, his voice beginning to shake with anxiety. "I'll go upstairs while you take care of things down here."

Jack had moved a few feet away from the van, heading toward the entrance to the lobby around front. Simultaneously, Preston opened the unlocked front door to the Myers-Echowan van.

The driver was on him instantly, screaming with more rage than Preston had ever heard, even in the depths of the hospital wing.

Up close, his eyes were fierce, his teeth like jagged yellow fragments of bone.

"Get off him now!" Jack screamed from across the lot as he came running back over to his partner. The man began beating his fists against the detective, raining blows down on everything he could in a wild fury. Only a few of them managed to hit Preston directly, most in the shoulders and face. The rest were flailing wildly, usually veering off course in his rage, striking the pavement around the detective. The pain of punching the asphalt didn't seem to rattle the driver in the least. He continued his onslaught relentlessly, letting out shallow screams.

The addict leaned upward, trying to gain more leverage in his blows. It was then that Preston saw him clearly between strikes. The man was clearly a recruit from the homeless community. And, like most of the rest, he'd been preyed upon, most likely as an excellent source for the atmospheric particle. If not for the pain of being attacked, Preston would have felt sorry for him.

Instead, the detective strained, trying to push the man off him. Jack finally caught up, forcing the addict off Preston and sending him flying backward, cras.h.i.+ng against the side of the van.

Instantly, Jack aimed his gun at the raving lunatic. Between the hushed screaming, he could hear Preston's groans of pain. He glanced back for a moment, unwilling to fully remove his focus from the driver. From what he'd seen, they took advantage of distraction, using it to strike.

Jack took a few more steps back, so that he was standing right next to his partner as he lay on the ground.

Still trained on the addict, Jack finally took a good look at the man. He was so far gone. Both arms were covered in pulsing black veins. He was a terminal case, even if he did manage to survive withdrawal. His mind had been ravaged, eroded away until all that remained was a mechanism for producing Particle N.

For a moment, after seeing the Ruger trained on him, the addict seemed to relent, moving back up against the side of the van as if he were about to surrender. His breathing subsided, and he calmed himself. It was as if he had regained some portion of his former personality.

The addict rushed at Jack. The detective fired a single round, striking the homeless man in the chest. His body flew back against the van, painting the Myers-Echowan logo in blood as he made contact with it and halted. Slowly, his legs gave out and began to slide down, creating a sopping disjointed trail, as if the side of the vehicle was painted with wide brush strokes of crimson.

Still flailing, the driver gradually began to lose strength as he slumped downward, coming to rest on the heated pavement. Any remaining life escaped him as he landed in a sitting position with his back against the van and feet outstretched. Dull and lifeless, he continued to stare forward with blackened eyes until they finally glazed over.

Despite the attack, Jack knew that for all intents and purposes, he had killed an innocent. A man of the streets had been consumed by its creator's poison, no longer acting under his own accord, even after Wrath had died. If the last three trucks hadn't been stopped already, then others would share a similar fate. If the police didn't take them down, then ordinary citizens would begin rioting, killing anyone who appeared to be under the influence of the drug to protect themselves.

"Jack. . ." Preston choked. He turned to see what had really happened in the melee. "I need help," Preston said weakly.

Jack turned, his face growing wide with fear. With shaking hands, he holstered his Ruger, approaching cautiously.

A large syringe, identical to the one Preston had told him about in Wrath's freezer, was sticking out of Preston's chest, just above the heart. The plunger had been pushed downward all the way, sending whatever was inside into his bloodstream.

The smallest bit of the substance remained at the bottom. It was black, no doubt Wrath's blood.

"Oh, my G.o.d," Jack said, rus.h.i.+ng to his partner's aid. He pulled the needle out immediately, Preston grimacing in pain. "This is what you were talking about, wasn't it? What Wrath was trying to inject into you?"

"Yeah," Preston relayed meekly, placing his hand on the wound. "I didn't even see it coming."