State of Decay

doorway. The thin threads of light that connected us pulsed, getting brighter and then fading as her thoughts washed over me.

Help me, please help me. Get me out of here. They’re hurting me….

A sound like electricity crackling came from her direction, and the lights flickered as her face clenched up. The thoughts got even more urgent, making the picture of the woman on the motorcycle fade in and out.

“Your life can be much more than it is,” I heard the Asian woman say, “but only if you succeed here.”

I tried to concentrate. If this woman knew where I was, then why didn’t she send someone to help me?

“I have sent someone,” she said, like I had spoken out loud, “but that facility must be destroyed. Nothing can survive. If you cannot do this, then I cannot use you, and you will not survive either.”

The electrical cracking filled the hallway beyond the door again, and the woman with the needles seized up like all of her muscles had contracted at once. Another wave from her hit me.

“Focus!” the woman snapped. “If you fail here, it’s over!”

I wasn’t going to be able to hold the image of the motorcycle if the signals from the other woman kept coming at me so strong. If I was going to do anything at all, I had to get her to stop.

Usually I would concentrate on a person and I’d see colors, but this time it was like I had a direct connection right into her head. I reached out and pushed through the current toward her.

When I found her, the colors finally appeared, only instead of being fuzzy patterns, they formed a crisp map where the different colors and shades were all distinct. I reached past the blues, the reds, the yellows, past the fear and the anger and the desperation and doubt. I reached past the thin halo, as deep as I could go until I saw a single hot, white band that was more concentrated than anything I’d ever seen in anyone before. It was as if all things were connected to it. This was the source of her energy, the source of her terror.

With less effort than I expected, I concentrated on it, and like a valve, I turned it off. The flow of light through the band stopped and it went dark. All the colors followed immediately afterward, blinking out until everything was dark. The flow of thoughts stopped, leaving complete silence.

“There,” I said. I looked over at the Asian woman and she was staring at me, this time with a different expression, her mouth parted a little bit like she was stunned. When I looked back to the doorway to see what the needlehead was doing, she had fallen to the floor and wasn’t moving. Any trace of light around her was gone.

There wasn’t any time to think about it. I got the image of the woman on the motorcycle back. Sweat beaded up on my forehead. I saw the colors begin to appear.

The colors formed patterns, and all at once I could read them. I reached out and with all the strength I could muster, I grabbed hold of her.

Nico Wachalowski—New Amsterdam, Warehouse District

Calliope had been reckless on the bike all along, but all of a sudden I felt a lurch as she throttled the engine and picked up speed. The road cleared as we raced beneath a monorail platform, and while the back tire kicked sand off the pavement, the front wheel almost came up off the ground.

“Cal, take it easy!”

We’d left the residential and business districts behind us, along with most of the patrols, a while back. The road ahead merged into a clover, which led into a series of open industrial-park areas, none of which looked like they’d seen much recent activity. Through the snow I could make out warehouses and cargo lanes, but they were all covered over now. We lost traction for a second as she hit the clover way too fast and veered down one of the off- ramps.

“Cal!”

There was a chain- link fence up ahead with a gate that hung open partway. She sped toward it, banking at the last second, and the bike tilted wildly. I gripped her waist in a death lock as slush sprayed up over me, and I heard the heel of her boot doing a high- speed scrape across the pavement. Somehow she righted the bike, and I pulled my knees in tight as we flew through the narrow opening in the fence. The blacktop disappeared under the snow again as she took us onto one of the lots.

“Damn it, it’s too deep—stop the bike!”

What was the matter with her? She couldn’t have any idea where she was going, not when I hadn’t even zeroed in on the exact GPS location yet. Over her shoulder, I saw that other vehicles had been here before us, and that she was taking us down a narrow trench formed by their treads. Every few seconds the bike fishtailed and she managed to right it. My chest throbbed and my stomach began to knot.

I got a bead on the location and brought up the map. Somehow she was taking us in the right direction. There was a guard station in the distance, and a ramp leading down.

You should be picking up a radio beacon about now, Sean said. I tuned to the frequency he indicated, and sure enough, it was there.

Got it.

Follow it.

Up ahead, several large, dark objects were called out on the display.

“Calliope, stop the bike. This is close enough!” I shouted. Things were going to start getting dangerous, and she had already gotten closer than I wanted her to. The dark objects were getting larger as we got closer, taking shape through the snow. They were definitely vehicles of some kind.

I zoomed in on them, bringing them into focus; they were helicopters. Three of them, military choppers used for troop deployment.

Sean, what’s going on over here? I’ve got three military helicopters. Who sent them?

Hold on.

He went idle for a minute, then dropped off completely. A second later, a new ID came in. It was Assistant Director Noakes.

Wachalowski, where are you?

I’m at the site, but I don’t see SWAT. I see some military helicopters here.

I know.

What do you mean, you know?

I could see three revivor soldiers standing in front of the remains of an old guard tower. They had spotted us, and one of them was waving us down.

When did they get involved in this?

I’m doing what I was instructed to do. The word came down that this little rat’s nest you’ve uncovered is to be shut down immediately and completely. Stay out of their way and let them handle it.

How can you say that? We’ve lost—

This comes from high up. It’s not our place to second-guess them, Wachalowski. You’ve helped stop a significant terrorist threat. Just stay out of their way.

“Son of a bitch!” Cal snapped. I looked up and saw the soldiers ahead raising their rifles.

“Cal, stop!”

Are you receiving me, Wachalowski? Why are you still approaching the site?

Behind the revivors, I could see the remains of a thick metal curtain that had blocked an entrance ramp that led down underground. It looked like explosives had been used to blow the gate, and dozens of boot tracks headed past the guard station and down into the factory entrance.

A shot rang out and snow sprayed off to my right. Calliope veered, plowing through the snow and coming out in a second set of tire tracks. Two more shots boomed through the air.

Wachalowski—

Tell them to hold their fire.

Tell them how? I’m not—

We were getting close now, way too close. We passed the helicopters and started coming up fast on the