“How do you plan on getting revenge against the Facilitator?”
Taavi shrugged. “I do not know yet. Iran is half a world away, separated from us by thousands of kilometers of ocean. Part of why I came here was to help seek a cure for the disease. If that were accomplished, then one day I could possibly find a flight that would allow me to return to my homeland. The odds are overwhelmingly against me, but I must continue to try.”
The taller man turned, squaring his shoulders toward Grady. “The real question is what will you do with the information now, Harper? You have my entire story—the truth—of how I came to be here. What will you do with it?”
“Almost all of it,” Grady countered. “How’d we end up in Kansas?”
“When we abandoned the facility, we flew with the scientists and the most hopeful candidates toward America, where the Iranian Army had already begun establishing footholds. We were directed to stop at the inconsequential airport in Kansas. That was to be a small, undetectable location for a new base where the scientists we’d rescued could continue their work. We arrived before the Army did, though, and were overrun.”
Grady scratched at the skin beneath his beard. He’d been through a lot of fucked up shit with the Iranian since Kansas, but what he’d been a part of in Brazil was unforgiveable. The man said he didn’t take part in the experiments, but he sure as hell ensured that the fucking sickos could keep at it.
“Ahh, fuck it,” he grumbled and raised his weapon, placing the reticle pattern over the man’s left eye. “Fuck you, asshole.”
Taavi looked at him and nodded, then turned away so Grady could shoot him in the back of the head. “Take care of David once you do this,” the Iranian said. “He deserves better than this place. The soldiers want to leave him here. Please don’t let them.”
Grady feathered the trigger, depressing it slightly. It would be so simple to just end this fucker’s miserable existence and his conscience would be clear. The man had been a part of his capture and torture for almost a year. He’d been responsible for the death of his team when he released the infected to defend the facility. He’d taken villagers for the scientists to experiment upon.
All that he’d done was horrible, but why had he done those things? His family was held hostage, forcing him to obey the orders of this mysterious Council. He was just a much a pawn in all of this as Grady was. Taavi had been a friend during the journey from Kansas, the two of them thrust together as outsiders by the Army platoon. They’d fought alongside one another and shared stories of their past—which were mostly true, although Taavi had amended how he’d gotten to Kansas. They both hated the infected, the Cursed as the tall man called them, and wanted to find a way to destroy them.
“What will you do once we help Jefferson make a vaccine?” Grady asked hoarsely. He didn’t like the feelings that seemed to well up inside of him at the thought of killing his newfound friend.
“I—What do you mean ‘after’? I believe that I am dead at that point.”
Grady cursed loudly and dropped his rifle on the sling. “No, fucker, you aren’t. I’m not going to shoot you tonight. I get it. You were forced to do those things.”
He turned around haltingly and stared at Grady. “I hold nothing against you, Grady Harper. If you choose to end my misery, I will accept my fate.”
“That’s just it, Taavi,” Grady said, pointing at him with a stubby finger. “If I kill you, all of your suffering ends right here. You go to be with your wife and children in the afterlife and the rest of us are left here to deal with the shitstorm you helped to create. I know a little bit about your religion, buddy. You can’t commit suicide without a bomb strapped to your chest or some shit to become a martyr. Otherwise, you go to Hell.”
“You are correct.”
“Then, fuck you even more. You’re gonna stick around this place, same as the rest of us poor assholes. You’re gonna give that scientist all the information that you have about the infected and we’re going to kick this disease’s ass. That will be your penance for everything that you’ve done. Then, years from now, when we’ve finally eradicated the disease, you’ll be allowed to go find this Facilitator guy and get your revenge.”
Grady realized that he still held Taavi’s knife. He tossed it to the taller man, who caught it by the handle. “I am not your friend, you understand that?”
“I do,” Taavi replied. “It is a meaningless statement to you. However, I want you to know that I regret what has happened. I only wanted to grow old with my Rabbia, my love, and to watch my children grow into adulthood. I am sorry, Grady Harper.”
He wanted to scream. To pummel his fists into Taavi’s face and shatter the bones there. He wanted to take out his frustrations at what had been done to him. He wanted revenge. He felt the rage boiling inside of him once more.
Grady grasped the pistol grip of his weapon. “I’m going hunting. I’ll be back.”
He spun and stalked through the balcony doorway, making his way toward the apartment door. Behind him, he heard the Iranian protest that he was the world’s only hope of recovery. That he couldn’t get himself killed, and blah, blah, blah.
Grady no longer heard the man. His blood was up, as it often was after all the experiments they’d done to him. The only thing that made the anger subside was to kill. It was time to make the streets of New
