Fewer shots. Fewer screams.
Benny did not think this was a good sign.
As they gathered themselves to pass through the air lock, Benny bent and kissed Nix quickly on the lips.
“For luck,” he said.
“I know,” she replied, smiling. “But we won’t need it. We’re going to get Chong, find Riot and Eve, and get out of here.”
It was a strangely positive thing for her to say, but Benny saw no doubt in her eyes. She believed it.
It made him want to kiss her again.
Joe looked over his shoulder at them. “Benny—you’ve been bugging me for a month to tell you why the soldiers and scientists here haven’t done much to help you. Why they haven’t let you in here.” He looked grim. “Sometimes you have to be careful what you wish for.”
With that he stepped through the air lock, took a brief look, and immediately opened fire.
Lilah was right behind him, her pistol bucking in her hands as she fired and fired.
Benny and Nix adjusted their grips on their swords.
“C’mon, Doc,” said Benny, “we won’t let anything happen to you.”
The doctor’s eyes we
re skeptical. “Too late for that, kids. But . . . thanks.”
They heard two more shots, and then a sudden silence fell over the whole complex.
Joe Ledger called to them. “It’s clear,” he said, his voice rough. “It’s all over in here.”
They passed through the air lock and saw four reapers and five zoms lying in a tangle beyond where Joe stood. Gun smoke from the ranger’s rifle hung in a blue pall around him.
Benny and Nix stepped into another scene of horror and madness.
There was a bed right inside the door. A man lay in it, his eyes wide with fury and pain, his pajamas soiled with blood and muck, his limbs thrashing as he fought to rise. Not to escape—but to attack. Ropes held him to the bed, lashing his arms and legs and torso to the metal frame. Black spit flew from the man’s screaming mouth.
Benny stared past him at the occupant of the next bed. And the next.
And all the others.
Hundreds of beds. Each one filled. Each person thrashing and moaning and biting the air. Each one trapped there by ropes.
Their uniforms hung over the backs of chairs, or were draped over the ends of the beds. The uniforms of soldiers of the American Nation. The lab coats of scientists. The special jackets of pilots.
Nix’s sword drooped in her grasp until the tip of the blade made a hollow tink against the concrete.
This was why there had been no real resistance to the reaper invasion.
This was why the jet sat idle on the tarmac.
This was why the soldiers and the scientists were so bitter.
“They’re all infected,” Benny murmured. “All of them . . .”
He heard a sob and turned to see Dr. McReady trembling.
“No,” she said. “No . . .”