Waking The Zed Part 5

One of the women looked like a body builder, with developed arms showcased by a sleeveless s.h.i.+rt. She refused to sit. One large bicep had been covered by white bandages. The other one displayed an intricate tattoo. The white cloth of her bandage was stained pink at the edges. She looked angry, and Pam could visualize her getting out of her vehicle to yell at the creatures that had blocked her car. She might have tried to intimidate it as she, no doubt, intimidated most people. Then she must have found out that the Zed did not get intimidated no matter what anybody did to threaten them.

The woman beside her was lean, like a runner. She had a spiky haircut, artfully dyed platinum blonde at the tips. The pair stood close, as if personal s.p.a.ce was not something they kept between them.

The other two looked like ordinary business men, probably on their way home from office jobs. They did not appear to know each other, and they silently took their places on cots.

"We need to know what's happening here," the body builder said. Her square jaw, cropped haircut, and aggressive stance made Pamela take a step back. She considered herself a tough farm girl, but nothing like this obviously strong and domineering woman. The woman's developed arms looked as thick as Captain Crawford's. For some reason the woman seemed to be addressing Pam, and not the officer.

"I'm like you," Pam said. She spread her hands in a gesture she hoped was peaceful. "They brought me here." She glanced at Captain Crawford sideways. "I might know a little more than you do but not much."

"We don't have any information to give you right now," Captain Crawford said. "You are simply here to be tested and treated. You're welcome to watch the TV, and we will have some more food delivered right away. Other than that, we'll give you any information as quickly as we can. For the time being we need you all to stay here. That's for your own protection and safety."

Now the room held eight patients, nine counting the Zed still chained on the far side. Four armed soldiers guarded the room, while a handful of men and women in scrubs and surgical masks took blood, gave injections, and checked wounds. None of the new injured people had been cuffed so far, but now one soldier's job seemed to be to man the door and make sure it was kept closed and locked. At a knock, he glanced through the small, reinforced window, saw the ID of a young man in workman's clothes, and let him enter. The young man pulled a cart, like the last one, piled with wrapped sandwiches and cans of drinks.

Since Pam had eaten little all day, her stomach almost ached with hunger now that the cart reminded her of food. She picked up roast beef and forced herself to sit on an empty cot and eat it. Her stomach seemed to have settled, and she had no problem swallowing the food. Though the room had been cleaned, the air still smelled tainted with the combined odors of rot and disinfectant. The food still seemed to drop into her stomach like a weighted lump, but she did not believe she was ill. Every bite just seemed to remind her of the way those things would gnaw into human flesh, and that thought made her wonder if eating animal flesh was so different. After the sandwich had been reduced to crumbs, she opened a small can of orange juice and washed it down.

She had no way to know the time, or how many hours she had been in this room. Somehow Pam had entirely forgotten that she had slipped her cell phone in her pocket back in the lab. Besides using her phone for checking the time, she had no use for it now. There was n.o.body she could think to call at the moment anyway. She hardly thought it would be a good idea to concern her parents just now. The only window was the small one on the door, and that only showed a tiny section of the lighted hallway.

Her body had been charged with adrenaline most of the day, but now, against her will, she felt the need to close her eyes for a moment. And yet, she was locked in this room with six new infected people. None of them were restrained. She started to drift off, but then kept waking herself up with a start. Gruesome images flooded her mind, and she was barely certain if they were memories or fragments of dreams.

Still the presence of the armed guards rea.s.sured her. They looked fresh and alert. Each one met her glance with the same suspicion they showered on the other patients.

Incredibly, as Pam allowed herself to sit back on the bed, she noticed that each one of the other patients had sunk back on the cots and seemed to fall asleep. Only Pamela kept fighting the urge. She sank back onto the hard pillow and allowed herself to close her eyes, but she kept her fist clenched hard. This was an old trick she had learned to keep herself from falling asleep when she needed to close her eyes for a moment during her studies. The trick finally failed. Pamela woke with a start to find the room dim and most occupants snoring.

She heard low voices emanating from the small office. That room's door had been closed, but the small reception window had been left open a crack. Perhaps the office's occupants wanted to be sure they heard what went on in the ward room, but it also allowed their voices to echo out. As Pam turned her head, she noticed that Dr. Lincoln's cot had been rolled away. She wanted to sit up so she could see if he was still in the room, but some kept instinct kept her still.

"We need to clean this room out," Captain Crawford said. "We have enough subjects contained in the brig, and these infected people are just accidents waiting to happen."

The Lonesome Road.

"Dr. Lincoln almost took out a nurse before we got to him." Pamela heard another male voice. "Sometimes these things wake up suddenly, and then they move faster than we expect."

Pam barely stopped herself from flying to her feet. Dr. Lincoln had pa.s.sed away, reanimated, and then attacked somebody, and she had slept through it? The infected had seemed to sleep a lot or become very indolent before they died. George had not appeared to be asleep so much as in shock. The educated part of her brain tried to sort through the little evidence she had. But no, as soon as she woke up her body tingled with adrenaline. Except for the fear flooding her brain, Pam's mind felt clear.

She understood the fact that she and Paul, who still slept, had both been infected with some milder airborne form of the virus. But she had no way to understand what that meant. She knew she had never been treated with a virus blocker. She wished Paul would wake up so she could ask him about it.

She could not be sure exactly how much time had pa.s.sed but it had seemed to take Dr. Lincoln longer to succ.u.mb than it had taken George. Yet the doctor's wound had seemed worse than George's. Dr. Klein's wound had seemed quite minor compared to the other two, and it had taken her the longest to actually expire. Pam had no way to account for the difference yet. Somehow it seemed important.

She knew that she simply did not have enough information to draw conclusions. It was possible that an individual's natural immune system was also a factor. That could be compromised by age or other diseases, or it may be enhanced by good general health, fortunate genes or some prior opportunity to build up resistance. Had Dr. Klein had some way to immunize herself that was partially effective? She had, after all, invented the virus blocker. So far Pam only knew that the virus carried by a bite had eventually been one hundred percent fatal. If she was any evidence, the airborne virus did not even seem to make people sick, at least it hadn't yet.

But more urgently, what did Captain Crawford mean when he said they needed to clean the room? She peered out through squinted eyelids and saw two armed guards pacing the room. She wanted out, and she wanted out now, but there was no way she could race past those guards.

Trying to make her movements look like the actions of somebody simply repositioning themselves in their sleep, she turned her head.

Yes, Paul's still in his bed. Pamela had begun to worry he had covered up an injury. But he surely would have died and reanimated by now. It was possible that Paul was simply fatigued, or maybe even ill from some less sinister disease. Pam had no real friends here in the infirmary, but somehow Paul felt like a comrade. She blew out a relieved sigh when she saw him.

"What do you mean by clean the room?" This was asked by a stern female voice, coming from the office. That was, of course, what Pam wanted to know. She tried to glance around, and as far as she could tell, all the others were sound asleep. All she heard from inside the room was rhythmic breathing and an occasional soft snore. Once, a low moan came from the other end of the room, and she figured the creature must still be hooded and bagged over there. If they wanted to clean the room, why didn't they take that thing away?

"I mean that we need to stop pretending that these unfortunate citizens are patients that we can cure," Captain Crawford said. "We are wasting time, and we need to move on. If the doctors want some specimens, they can be transferred to containment. Otherwise, I want these people neutralized, so I can move on."

"What about the young woman who worked at Future Faith?" the female persisted. "You said she was your most credible witness, a scientist, and she does not appear symptomatic after all of this time. The young medical student may also be useful."

"They both tested positive," Captain Crawford said. "But I guess we could transfer them to a more secure room if you're squeamish about it. Frankly, I don't think they have anything additional to contribute. The guy's a loose cannon waiting to go off but I might be convinced to keep the young woman around here for a while longer. She's a graduate student, and I gather she only held a low-level position at Future Faith. But of all the civilians, she has proved the most stable and cooperative. Her suggestion about looking through Dr. Klein's research is a sensible one but we can surely use our own experienced medical people to do it. Maybe we can even scare up some real experts."

"As she has mentioned several times, Ms. Stone is a doctoral candidate in pathology," the woman said. "She also knows her way around Future Faith. She may be as good as it gets, as far as experts go, for quite a while. Things are not exactly stable."

"I'll think about it," Captain Crawford groused. "I'd dearly like to get a real expert in here. Somebody from the virus blocker team or a higher level scientist would be ideal. Clearly, the young woman has her virtues, but she's almost a kid."

"Higher level scientists at Future Faith could all be walking around like that thing you've got chained in the corner by now. Ms. Stone's youth probably worked in her favor because she was strong enough to get out of the building. Besides, I've seen officers her age lead men into battle. She also has proven herself as resourceful. I imagine that it took some combination of quick thinking, strength, and luck to get out of there." The woman's voice sounded flat, but insistent.

Pam felt frozen on the thin infirmary cot, but she certainly thought she understood what Captain Crawford meant by neutralized. She had to get out of this room quickly before they made escape impossible by putting her in some sort of locked jail cell. But how could she possibly escape even now? Guards watched the room, and two were planted in front of the only exit.

As she lay back with her heart racing, the woman with the body builder physique started to stir. Pamela wondered if she had heard Captain Crawford's comments too. The tough looking woman had certainly sounded confrontational, but maybe she could speak with her and try to come up with some sort of plan. Pam risked a glance across the row of beds as the woman sat up slowly.

One of the guards moved towards the burly woman. He asked, "Hey, how are you doing there?"

The woman did not reply, but tumbled out of bed. Now Pam did not even try to pretend she was still asleep. The woman moved faster than anybody expected, but not so fast that Pam did not catch her wild expression and glazed, bloodshot eyes. The woman had clearly turned into one of the creatures. She lunged at the soldier, head first, and used her teeth to rip at his chest. The guard had not prepared himself for an onslaught, and he actually screamed as the woman buried her mouth into his well-developed pectoral muscle.

The other guards raced over to separate them, but now the lean woman rose too. Quicker than Pam could have antic.i.p.ated, the state trooper stood behind her. While the soldiers occupied themselves with trying to control the former patients, the second woman veered right towards Pam. She hopped off her cot and tried to slide the bed between them.

She saw Paul, still in his cot, but with his eyes half open. He rubbed his face with a very human gesture. Pam felt her heart drop in relief. She grabbed his arm and hissed, "Come on!" Slowly, like he was half dazed, the young man rolled off his mattress and managed to get his legs under hm.

In Pam's opinion, the guards would have been wise to shoot the creatures in the head, instead of trying to wrestle with them. But they obviously still did not understand the threat. They don't want to shoot unarmed people. Now Captain Crawford emerged from the small office. He stood between her and the door, but he was obviously distracted by the growing melee. At lease she saw him reach for his sidearm.

Now one of the other men who had been brought in earlier rose. A second guard, who had inserted himself between Pam and the lean woman, shouted as the creature sunk her teeth into his thick arm. The second businessman had not turned, but had simply been roused because of the noise. Well, it was too late for him now. The other business man threw himself on the first one's cot. Pam heard a sickening crunch.

Captain Crawford glanced at Pam, must have decided she had not turned, and brushed past her to try to take control of the situation. She saw him draw his sidearm. Pam grabbed Paul's hand and pulled him behind Captain Crawford and towards the exit. Amazingly, the pair made it out of the room unmolested. The hallway was mostly deserted.

A few steps outside of the infirmary room, a tall soldier in riot gear stopped them. He frowned at the pair. "Are you supposed to be here?" he asked.

"You have to help us," Pam said quickly. "The things are attacking soldiers in there. I saw two guys get bitten."

A deep throated cry from inside the ward confirmed Pam's story, and the soldier rushed past her into the infirmary room. Almost immediately, shots were fired. Pam hoped the shooters were able to separate the living and the dead.

She took the opportunity to race down the hallway, with Paul in tow. She sped towards the nearest exit. Paul seemed to stumble along behind her, but managed to keep pace. Despite the fact that Paul was a fairly tall and trim looking man, Pam had to tug on his arm every few paces. She felt as if she was almost dragging him. He was slowing her down, but she had no time to figure out why. Perhaps the Taser blast still affected him, she thought to herself. She had no experience with weapons like that and no time to think about it.

Pam had no real way to gauge time as she had still forgotten about the cell phone snuggled in her pant pocket. The infirmary room had no clocks or outside windows. But she stepped out of the hospital building into a dark and moonless night. Electric lights allowed her to move up the path, but it had obviously been dark for some time.

Outside the hospital barracks, teams of soldiers raced here and there, but n.o.body gave Pam a glance as she froze just outside the door. A dozen armed men rushed past her back into the infirmary. Trucks and troop carriers lined up on the road. Men boarded, and then the vehicles rushed out of the open gate.

All of the havoc must not just be here. What's going on out there?

She kept close to the side of the building, hoping to put some distance between herself and the infirmary room before her absence was noted and an alarm was sounded. She hoped she might figure out how to walk out of the military base though she figured it would be tricky. The general confusion might work in her favor as it had when she managed to slip out of the infirmary a few minutes before.

Paul still followed her pa.s.sively. She glanced back at him, but could barely make out his features in the shadows cast by the building.

Just as she muttered, "This has got to be my worst day ever," she saw a large four wheel drive vehicle parked on the road with its motor running. A tall and burly young man in fatigues hopped out of the driver's side. He had a distracted look and a cell phone pinned to his ear.

"I have had enough of this place," Pam said, yanking Paul over to the vehicle from the side away from the driver. He stumbled after her as she dived through the pa.s.senger side door and then scooted around to take the driver's place. Paul still stood by the door, looking undecided. Pam waved him in frantically.

After a moment of hesitation, he climbed in beside her. Before the driver could turn around, Pam had her foot on the clutch and the car in gear. She swerved across the road to get in line behind the troop vehicles. She saw the former driver try to chase her down, but Pam managed to experience a rare moment of luck on this luckless day. The convoy sped up and she was through the gates and out on the street before he could get close.

While the rest of the caravan took the first highway entrance, Pam sped past it. Her first thought was just to ditch this car back at Future Faith. She might be able to access Dr. Klein's research papers if she could still use her badge to sneak into the building. If she could not get inside, she figured she would just go home. In the morning she might be able to contact a professor at the university.

"Where're we going?" Paul said. He words seemed slurred and effortful.

"I'm going back to Future Faith," Pam said. "I really need to get back inside the building to access Dr. Klein's research but that may be impossible. Why? Where do you think we should go?"

"Dunno'," Paul replied, and then he leaned his head back against the seat. In a moment, Pam noticed him slumped down again, as if unconscious.

"How can you sleep now? Did they give you a sedative back there at the base?" Pam asked. But Paul did not reply. She persisted. "Are you sick or something?" He remained silent as if he had, incredibly, fallen asleep again in the midst of this chaos.

Pam tried to keep her anxiety in check as she raced down the quiet road. She knew an alternate route back to Future Faith Cryonics, but she knew she needed to make good time to avoid pursuit. It would not take the driver much time to alert somebody to his stolen vehicle. Heading for her personal car or her own apartment seemed like obvious moves. If Captain Crawford really wanted to find her, a.s.suming he survived the row in the ward room, he would be sure to send people to these places first. As she concentrated on driving as quickly as possible, she honestly could not come up with any sort of plan. She had wanted to cooperate with the authorities, but she wasn't ready to submit to incarceration and eventual "cleaning".

In fact, she had not even made it to the next highway exit before she caught the faint sound of sirens through her half open window. Of course, on a night like tonight, anything could prompt police and ambulances. She had no way to know if her vehicle's original driver had initiated pursuit, of if the emergency vehicles simply responded to another tragedy. Then the sound of her own cell phone startled her. This was the first time all night that she remembered she even had it.

As she drove, Pam fumbled to remove the phone and stab the answer b.u.t.ton. A harsh male voice said, "We have that vehicle on GPS. You are advised to pull over now since there is no way to evade us."

"c.r.a.p," Pam said into the phone as she stabbed the b.u.t.ton to cut off the call. Of course her cell phone probably tracked her too. Obviously these guys could pull up any information about her that they wanted.

She glanced at Paul, and he still slumped down in his seat. She could not hear him breathing so she hoped he was merely resting comfortably, but she had no way check on him as she drove. Her cause seemed hopeless if she either gave up now or kept trying to run. Still, operating on adrenaline and instinct, she kept driving and hoping for some sort of miracle or inspiration.

She knew that the next exit led to an old two lane road that would take her to a highway near Future Faith Cryonics. If she could just get back to her own car before the military picked her up, she could ditch her cell phone and be free of tracking devices. She knew she had a twenty minute drive ahead of her under any conditions, and she had no way to know what she would find at any turn. Pam swerved over to take the exit onto the old road.

Even with her headlights on, the route was dark. Pam slowed, torn between making good time and maneuvering between the tight lanes safely. Steep rain ditches had been dug on both sides of the road so she had to stay within the lanes or she risked dropping down. This machine was st.u.r.dy, but she doubted it could survive the fall and then climb back out.

Pam also kept glancing in her rear view mirror, but did not see any other cars on this lonesome stretch of old road. The sound of sirens had faded as soon as she turned onto the old road too. Pam figured the minute she saw or heard pursuit she would just have to stop the car, jump out, and try to run into the undeveloped land beyond the ditches.

That seems like a bad idea too. If any of the Zeds lurked out there in the dark brush, she would be as doomed as if the soldiers caught up to her. Pam had no weapons. She had even abandoned her broken umbrella back at the infirmary. Perhaps she even had a better chance or survival with the military men. But then she remembered they had even botched protecting themselves back in the infirmary. They still don't understand the threat. Right now, her best option just seemed to keep trying to escape in the vehicle as long as possible.

"Am I even escaping?" Pam asked herself out loud. "I could be heading right back to Ground Zero instead of towards safety." Paul, still apparently unconscious, did not answer.

Despite her fear, Pam was still a st.u.r.dy farm girl at heart. Her ancestors had fought on the Sioux side of Little Big Horn and both sides of the Civil War. There was nothing in her personality, natural const.i.tution, or upbringing that would allow her to just succ.u.mb to her fear of the living or the dead.

The road was very dark, and she took turns quite a bit faster than the posted speed. She had no way to see the two cars that had collided and blocked the street right at the end of a sharp right turn. With the sound of screeching brakes and tortured metal, she swerved and stopped the vehicle after plowing through a late model Ford Ranger. The momentum of her vehicle shoved the pickup down into the rain ditch. With her heart pounding, she threw the car out of gear and tried to a.s.sess the damage. Then it occurred to Pam that somebody might be injured in the pickup. She cursed beneath her breath.

Her leg ached from stomping on the brakes, and her arms felt wrenched from grasping the wheel, but she did not seem to feel badly injured. More alarming, Paul simply slumped forward in his seat belt. She turned on the interior light and saw a thin trickle of blood on his thigh. She wondered how he had sustained an injury like that belted to his seat.

"Paul, we have to get out now," she said. She moved her hand to shake his arm. He suddenly jerked back in the seat and seemed to flop around in his seat belt. His eyes had popped open but he looked very disoriented and unaware of his exact surroundings. "Are you in shock?" she asked.

Just then she noticed two figures rising from the rain ditch. One appeared to be a tall man. The other looked like a slim young woman. Pam rolled the window enough to should at them for help. She saw them turn their heads and approach. As she watched them, she became convinced that there was something odd and jerky about their movements. Maybe they were injured, but neither figure replied. As the man crossed near her headlights she saw a shard of gla.s.s sticking out of his shoulder. Pam cursed and quickly closed the window and set the door locks. Why had it not occurred to her that they might be infected creatures?

She frantically looked around the vehicle for anything that could be used as a weapon. All she saw was a hard laptop case on the floor in back. She grasped the handle but doubted it would provide much protection. Meanwhile, the two Zeds lurched and ambled towards her vehicle.

The vehicle still ran and it occurred to Pam that her best option would just be to try and creep away from them. In fact, a better option might just be to plow into them as I drive away. As she began to put the car into gear, she saw headlights in the mirror behind her. This was either an innocent driver or her military pursuit. She honked to get the approaching vehicle to slow down in either case. She hated to draw more attention, but she did not need to be rear ended by an unsuspecting driver right now.

It was then that she saw Paul lurch towards her. Now the wound in his thigh was bleeding freely. How had she not noticed that he had a rip in the seam of his work pants before? George had succ.u.mbed to his wound very quickly. Dr. Klein and Dr. Lincoln had taken longer. But she had no time to ponder the question of why it had taken Paul so long to turn. In the dim light she could see his red rimmed eyes. He snarled.

She threw the laptop case up between them, fending him off with both hands. His movements were uncoordinated and they lacked the power she would have expected from a tall young man. Still, she suspected that if he managed to get a good grip on her arm or her hair, she would be in trouble. Her breath came out in ragged gasps as she held the hard case up as a s.h.i.+eld between them.

There was certainly no way she could drive while fending him off. She also doubted she had the strength to throw him out of the vehicle without risking a bite or scratch. He was still constrained by her seatbelts but his long arms could reach her. Her only option seemed to be to exit the vehicle. She managed to get her left hand behind her to crack the door open. Then she released her own seatbelt and dropped to the ground. The thing that used to be Paul, the medical student, roared in frustration as it strained against the seatbelt.

Now the two walking Zed were very close, and they seemed to be ambling up to her much more quickly, excited by the sight or maybe the smell of her out in the open and unprotected by a vehicle.

Pam really had no time to notice the approaching vehicle as she dropped to the ground and looked for an escape route. The brilliant doctoral candidate had been reduced the state of a primitive prey creature. But even then, her agile mind kept frantically grasping for solutions.

She figured her best chance would certainly be to make it to the brush and trees where she might find a large branch she could use to crack the heads of her undead pursuit if they got too close. The things could walk, but they did not seem very coordinated. She figured she could outdistance them easily if she sprinted. A few hours ago she had been using high tech equipment in a modern laboratory. Now she just needed a good solid wooden club.

She did believe she could run a lot faster than the Zed seemed to lurch along, but the dark and steep rain ditch made her way hazardous. Fear of falling slowed her down but the Zed just kept coming. She would have to operate by instinct more than sight. Pam hoped that the isolated road might work to her advantage as it may not be heavily populated with creatures yet. She thought she had a way to evade the two Zed, and Paul still seemed stuck in his seatbelt. She doubted she could hold off against a crowd of the things though.

She hurled the laptop case at the head of closest Zed and took off running. As Pam sprinted, she did not notice the low road guard. Her right foot connected with it, and the force sent her tumbling down the ditch. She ended up in a heap at the bottom. Winded and shaken, Pam felt a sharp pain as she rolled onto her back. She did not believe she had broken anything, but she had landed on a sharp stone. She forced herself through the roll and saw the tall male Zed above her on the road. He stumbled over the same road guard that had tripped Pam.

As he seemed about to fall on top of her Pam frantically rolled out of the way. She had no way to see the thirty pound stone stuck in the earth by her head. She simply felt the sharp blow as the heavy rock connected with her skull. Then the darkness seemed to become more intense as her vision grew cloudy. If not for her high levels of adrenaline, Pam would surely have already been unconscious.

Only just then, she could not resist the urge to turn her head and vomit. The creature that used to be a tall young man hit the ground with a loud and mindless thump. Pam was certain she heard something crack as one bone or another broke within the young man's body. Oblivious to his injury, he raised his head. Within seconds she heard him began to wiggle towards her without bothering to regain his feet.

Pam knew she needed to find one of the heavy stones to crush the thing's head, but her body seemed to dissolve with weakness. She tried to move her legs to get them underneath her but the action sent another wave of dizziness through her head. She felt the thing's cold fingertips brush her arm. The sensation felt distant, and the solid world seemed as if it had dropped out from under her.

For a moment, Pam pictured the kitchen in the large old farmhouse where her parents still lived and worked. She guessed they would both be peacefully asleep now, resting after an active day and preparing for another. Instead of feeling panic, she simply regretted not being able to tell her folks what happened or warn them about the catastrophe.

Both her mother and father had been so proud of her and supportive of her education. She remembered how happy her mother had been when she had gotten to tell all of her friends at church that Pam had been accepted to graduate school and was going to become a famous scientist someday. Now Pam figured she would either become a meal for this thing or a murderous creature that only elicited fear and revulsion until it could finally be put down like a rabid dog. The image of her parents sitting in the large and cluttered farmhouse kitchen filled Pam's head. She whimpered with regret, pain, and fear.

Her ears rang. She did not even hear car doors slam or men scrambling out of the car that had been approaching from behind her own vehicle. She had totally forgotten about her human pursuit. A light shone on her face, but it just blinded her more than her blurred vision.

As she turned her head to look into the crawling Zed's red eyes, b.l.o.o.d.y face, and snarling open mouth, it was finally Pam's turn to scream. But all she could manage was a shrill whine as consciousness became unbearable and faded out. A shot exploded near Pam's ear but it seemed distant, like the echo from another universe.

Morning at the Mediterranean.

Hercules Ona.s.sis stood five feet five inches in his stocking feet, though he normally wore expensive shoes with cleverly inserted lifts to help him appear a couple of inches taller. The last time a doctor had weighed him, he had tipped the scale's balance bar at over two hundred and fifty pounds. He had promised that doctor to lose weight after that last visit and then never returned. This extra girth sat mostly around Hercules's middle, and from a certain angle he seemed almost as wide as he was tall.

Hercules had risen slightly later than normal, having lost electricity sometime during the night. The old electric alarm clock he had relied upon since his school days was still and dark. He had overslept a couple of times in the fifteen years since his parents had retired and moved to Florida, but Marina the morning prep cook usually called up to his apartment after she arrived to begin the morning prep work in the kitchen. Most days, he was already showed, dressed, and working in the kitchen when she arrived.

This morning, he dressed quickly, forgoing his usual morning shower, and found the ground floor cafe kitchen empty. Marina had worked for his parents before working for him, and he could not remember her ever missing a day at work without calling in. Even the days when she called in to explain an absence were rare.

Concerned, but not angry, he tried to call her. The phone went through to voice mail immediately. Then he tried to call her son. The young man helped with The Mediterranean's evening deliveries after attending a full day of cla.s.ses at the local university. But now he could not make a phone connection at all. The cafe's kitchen phone was dead too. Hercules' cell phone just beeped when he tried to dial out. He tried to use the cell phone to access the Internet to see if there was news. Maybe the power outage was all over the city, and Marina was just held up somewhere. Even the omnipresent Internet was down by either trying a Wi-Fi or 4G connection.

Hercules fiddled with the phone for a few minutes trying to get a connection and finally gave up. Something was amiss. He was certain that as soon as the situation cleared up, Marina would contact him.