Read Online Code Zero by Jonathan Maberry - Free Book Online Page B

watch a hyperreal 3D movie that had become reality.
    The scuffling of the dying staff grew louder as they came toward her office. She knew that she should stop wrestling with the hazmat suit and close her door—and her dreaming mind screamed at her dream-self to do just that—but she did not. She fumbled and scrabbled at the ill-fitting protective garment even as the first of the infected staff members shuffled through the door.
    The dreaming Noor watched her dream-self look up, watched her turn toward the people, looking to see which of her friends and colleagues came through first. Dreading to see which symptoms were presenting on familiar flesh.
    But then both Noors—the dreamer and the dreamed self—froze in shock.
    The person in the doorway was dressed like Dr. Kim, and wore that name tag, and even had the same tie, but this figure was wrong. So … wrong.
    It had no face.
    It wasn’t that the hazy air masked it, but the thing in the doorway simply had no face. It had a head, hair, cheeks and a jaw, but otherwise the face was gone, erased, just a featureless mask of white.
    And the skin … it was the color of a mushroom. Pale and blotchy. Sickly in appearance and sickening to look at, as if it were in itself a creature composed entirely of disease. No longer human, but rather defined by the pestilential bacteria and viruses that permeated the air.
    The faceless, diseased thing stood for a moment in the doorway, its head raised and cocked as if trying to find her through some sense other than smell or sight. It swayed a little as if it might fall down at any moment.
    Noor wanted to scream, but instead she balled her fist and crammed it into her mouth, dreading what would happen if this faceless thing heard her.
    Then …
    The thing took a single awkward step forward.
    Into the room.
    Toward her.
    It raised pale hands and pawed at the air, trying to find something to touch.
    To grab.
    Other figures crowded behind it, their mass and weight pushing the first creature farther into the room so they could enter, too. Each of them—scientist, research assistant, technician, security guard, maintenance man—was faceless.
    Noor backed away as they filled the room, squeezing into it the way a liquid expands to fill a vacuum. First three of them, then eight. A dozen. Twenty.
    Noor scuttled backward into the corner, her legs banged against the chair and sent it rolling toward them. As it bumped up against the first one, the whole mass of them stopped, just for a moment, as if one of them feeling something allowed them all to feel it. A sympathetic reaction. A hive reaction.
    Then they began moving again. Faster, with greater purpose.
    Toward her.
    Noor screamed.
    That was when the dream had ended.
    That had been a dream.
    Now she was awake. Totally awake.
    Now Noor stood in her office, crammed into the corner, sweat and tears running down her face.
    And her office was crowded by pale, shuffling figures. Dozens of them. As many as could squeeze through the door. They closed on her.
    They closed around her.
    Exactly like in her dream.
    Except for one thing.
    In the dream these creatures were all faceless and featureless.
    In the dream they had no mouths.
    No teeth.
    This, however, was not a dream.
    Noor Jehan screamed and screamed for as long as she could.
    Until there was not enough of her left for screaming.

 
    Chapter Twelve
    Residence of the Vice President of the United States
    One Observatory Circle
    Washington, D.C.
    Sunday, August 31, 5:37 a.m.
    Vice President William Collins woke with a smile on his face.
    The big windows were open to the dawn breeze and the scent of roses and honeysuckle. The trees outside were filled with birdsong.
    Collins got out of bed and padded barefoot across to the chair where he’d left his bathrobe, shrugged it on, and stood by the window to watch the rim of the sun peer over the line of trees. He took a deep breath and let it out as a long and contented sigh.
    Behind him he heard her