“Ah, but by the time it goes public, we’ll have tied you to the outbreak in Portland, and possibly to the attacks on President Ryman’s campaign. You may even be the reason your sister died. You won’t be a hero, Shaun. You won’t even be a martyr. You’ll be the man who killed his sister for ratings, and the world will hate you.” Dr. Wynne smiled beatifically as he let go of Kelly and reached for the counter behind them. She didn’t move. Something about the gun pressed to her temple seemed to be dissuading her. “Nothing that comes out of your little tabloid press will be believed. It’ll just be the final thrashings of a madman.”
You bastard, whispered George.
For once, I was calmer than she was. “You’re an asshole,” I said.
“Yes, but I’m an asshole who’s going to walk away from here alive, which is more than I can say for you,” he replied. He locked his arm aroundagain, pulling her toward the door. “Security is on the way. There’s nothing you can do.”
When he moved his hand, I saw what he’d picked up from the counter: two plain ballpoint pens. “What are you going to do when security gets here?” I asked. “Scribble us to death?”
Kelly’s eyes widened. She didn’t look lost anymore. Now she looked terrified. Even having a gun against her head hadn’t elicited that response. “What?” she whispered.
“In a manner of speaking, yes,” said Dr. Wynne.
“It’s a pen,” I said.
Appearances can be deceiving, said George.
Kelly looked at me, eyes still wide, and mouthed, “I’m sorry.” Then she reached behind herself, fumbling a scalpel from the tray of surgical instruments before driving it into the back of Dr. Wynne’s neck. He bellowed like a wounded bull, gun falling as he clapped his hand over the side of his neck. The hand that held the pens snapped upward, some sort of trigger releasing in one of them. A thin dart whistled through the air past my ear, embedding itself in the wall. Becks fired twice, one shot catching Dr. Wynne in the arm, the other going wild. I brought my own arm back into firing position and shot him squarely in the chest, right in the spot where he’d been aiming the pen at me.
The impact whipped him hard to the side, and Kelly lost her grip on the scalpel, falling back. She slammed into Mahir. Dr. Wynne, still bellowing, raised the pens again, aiming at them. Kelly screamed and shoved Mahir to the side, sending him sprawling as Dr. Wynne’s knees buckled.
Dr. Wynne fell hard to the floor, and Becks immediately shot him twice in the head. That was one body that wouldn’t be getting back up.
Mahir staggered to his feet, careful to avoid touching Dr. Wynne’s blood. “Oh my God—”
“Mahir, are you clean?” I demanded.
He looked down at himself, scanning his clothing. “I—I think so. Nothing seems to have gotten on me.”
“Great. Well, avoid fluid transfer until we can get you to a test unit. A non-CDC unit. Suddenly, I don’t trust anything in this damn building.” I lowered my gun, but didn’t put it away. “Come on, Doc. We need to get the fuck out of here.”
“I don’t think so,” she said, sounding dazed.
My head snapped up.
There was a clear plastic needle embedded in her chest, glittering with a faint, oily sheen. “He shot me,” she said, staring at it. “Dr. Wynne shot me before he fell down. With the pen. Only it’s not a pen—it’s a defense mechanism. You can load them with knock-out darts, or lethal injections, or… all sorts of things.” She swallowed. “All sorts of things.”
“That doesn’t mean anything,” said Becks.
“Right. Because he obviously shot me with a ative or something.” Kelly shook her head, looking actively annoyed. “Don’t be stupid. We don’t have time for this.”
“Fuck, Doc, just come on.”
“No.” She turned and yanked open a drawer, pulling out a test unit. She slammed it down on the counter, popped off the lid, and shoved her hand inside. “I’m so sorry. I swear, I didn’t know. Maybe I should have known, maybe I was being a naive little idiot—I was so busy trying to do what I was supposed to do, and save the world, that I didn’t open my eyes—but I didn’t know.”
“I believe you,” Becks said, softly.
The lights along the top of Kelly’s test unit were turning red, one after the other.
She pulled her hand out when the last light stabilized on red, shooting a challenging glare in our direction. “Now do you believe me? Dr. Wynne shot me, and I’ve gone into amplification. I’m done. It’s over. And I really think it’s time for you to leave.”
I winced. “Fuck. Doc, I’m sorry.” Becks raised her arm, gun up, and pointed at Kelly’s head. From this distance, there was no chance she’d miss.
“So am I.” Kelly pulled the needle free. She held it up for a moment, long enough for the rest of us to see it clearly, and then she dropped it to the floor. It made a faint clinking noise when it hit the tile, before rolling to a stop in a puddle of Dr. Wynne’s blood. “Leave the door open when you go. I’ll stay here and distract security.”
I reached to the side and pushed Becks’s arm slowly down, shaking my head in negation. “Doc, are you sure? Amplification’s not something to fuck around with.”
“I think I know that better than you do.” A thin smile tilted her lips up. That, combined with the ponytail, made her look briefly, heartbreakingly like Buffy. I’d seen the resemblance when Kelly first showed up in Oakland, and now here it was again, at the worst possible time.