Element Zero

helicopter had just begun its approach to Palos Verdes when the missile detonated above the water, past the mouth of Palm Harbor. A blinding flash lit up the night sky, and spots still swam in front of my eyes as the huge dome of light began to boil into a cloud of radioactive fire. Even at that distance, it was awe inspiring. As the signature cloud rose over the skyline, panic set in for real, and I could see mobs surge through the streets below us. Not even the Guard could control the flow of bodies as they scrambled to clear the area.

I couldn’t raise anyone on the JZI. Our people were scattered. Calls were flooding in from all over the city, jamming the switchboards, and it was about to get worse.

You will kill Fawkes—that’s what they think—but Zoe will stop him.

I thought about Van Offo’s last words as the column of smoke continued to rise above the skyline. I fished the card he’d given me with her number on it out of my jacket pocket. The way things were playing out, I might not get another chance. As we moved over the crowd that had spilled into the street, I dialed it.

It rang several times, but she didn’t pick up. When it bounced through to her voice mail, I stared at the mob below and didn’t speak.

“We’re closing in!” the pilot said.

“Zoe—”

Scrambled code streamed in the corner of my eye and then winked out as the chopper hit turbulence. My stomach rolled, and my dead right arm seized as the scene in front of me changed abruptly.

“Just tell me what you want,” I asked. I was sitting in my car, with Zoe next to me. The sign for Pleasantview Apartments shone from across the street through falling snow as I waited for her to answer.

I remember this. It had happened years ago, back before Faye had been killed.

Zoe sat in the passenger’s seat, her eyes turned down toward the floor. Her hair covered most of her face, but I saw a tear roll down her cheek.

“I want you …to like me …” she said. Her voice was so soft, I could barely hear her.

“I do like you, Zoe. I …”

She turned and stared up into my eyes. The color was gone from them, replaced with shiny black. I felt the strength drain out of my body.

“Don’t say anything,” she said. “This is hard enough.” Her eyes returned to normal.

“You really don’t get it, do you? You really don’t see it.” She shook her head. “You and me …there’s got to be a reason for it …I kept seeing you …something made me find you …we were supposed to meet. Didn’t you feel it too?”

I didn’t answer. I didn’t know what to say. Zoe always seemed emotional to me, but I hadn’t realized until then just how much she kept buried.

“You mean so much to me …don’t you see it? You changed my life…. ”

“Zoe …look …”

“Am I anything to you at all?”

I realized then that she had feelings for me. More than that, she’d pinned some kind of hope on me. I’d been so caught up in what was happening that I hadn’t even noticed.

Zoe was deeply disturbed. She was a late-stage alcoholic, prone to outbursts and paranoia. I thought she might also be critical to my investigation, but she’d asked a straightforward question. Whatever it was she felt, I didn’t feel it, but I thought she deserved an answer. Even before I could frame what I was going to say, though, she knew.

“Don’t …don’t say it,” she said, shaking her head. She was crying now. “I don’t want to hear you say it.”

“Zoe—”

“Don’t!” Her pupils expanded again and her eyes turned coal black. My head began to reel. “Forget it! Just forget it! Forget this whole thing! We never had this conversation, so forget —”

The helicopter bucked, and as fast as the vision had come, it was gone. The phone was still in my hand. Zoe wasn’t there. I snapped it shut as the pilot began his descent.

I was sure that time; that was a memory. Zoe had wiped my memory, and somehow it had returned.

The dead arm ticked once, and I felt it in my shoulder. The first flash came after Fawkes took over Heinlein Industries, after he sent the transmission to alter the code of the Huma carriers. They had to be connected.

I set up a data miner to dig up instances of revivor bleed-through and memory recall. It began its search, but the networks were jammed and it was slow going. After a minute or two, it had trawled up some garbage, but nothing substantial. There was no tie between nanoblood contamination and memory, at least none on record.

“Hold on!” the pilot said as he brought us in. Maybe Deatherage would have some answers, if he was still alive.

We were closing in on the street below, and the crowd surged beneath the helicopter as people were buffeted by the wind of the rotors. We passed between the buildings and veered down Stark Street, where the traffic was jammed bumper to bumper. As the wire was flooded with warnings about the approaching radiation, people were abandoning their vehicles to escape to anywhere away from the shore. Throngs of bodies shoved their way down the sidewalks on either side. One man trudged along the side of a snowbank with a pistol clenched in his hand. Farther down, two men guarded a storefront with automatic rifles slung over their shoulders.

“It’s coming up,” the pilot said over the headset. Through the windshield, the building towered above us.

Palos Verdes was a low-rent apartment complex that dominated the block. It was closed off from the main street by a blockade of Stillwell soldiers who kept anyone from entering. On the other side of the cordon it was chaos, but so far the area behind it was clear. One of the soldiers waved the pilot in to a small lot bordered by military vehicles, and he descended into the clearing.

A shot went off down the street and I saw a figure stagger behind a row of cars, but couldn’t tell if it was human or not. People on the sidewalk shielded their eyes as the rotors kicked up sand and salt. The pilot brought us down on the icy pavement while soldiers watched from the main entrance.

I climbed out and signaled to the pilot.

Wait here.

Roger that, he said, but if that cloud blows in they’re going to have to try a mass evac. Be ready to move.

The roar of the crowd rose over the chopper. Another shot went off somewhere as I made for the front entrance. As I approached, one of the officers broke the line and came forward to meet me.

“Agent Wachalowski?”

“Yeah.”

“I’m Sergeant Lansky. We heard you were on your way.”

“What’s going on here?”

“Multiple revivors were spotted inside. We isolated them to the unit you’re after.”

“Is the target alive?”

“Heat signatures show no one living inside; it looks like we’re too late. We secured the site and were waiting for you to arrive.”

I looked at the entrance. People stood outside in groups, shivering in the cold. Eyes darted nervously toward the glow out over the water.

“Is the perimeter secure?”

“Yes, sir. No one’s come in or out.”

“How many revivors?”

“At least two. My men inside can tell you more. Basement level, unit 102. Sir, the launch. Do you know any —”

“Take the rest of your men and cover the street,” I told him. “This whole place could be contaminated in an hour; this is only going to get worse.”

I climbed the front steps and looked out from the main entrance. Back at the cordon, a soldier stood on top of a truck and barked over a bullhorn while the crowd shoved their way through the street. A mass evacuation would