Read Online Queen of Wands-eARC by John Ringo - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: John Ringo
Ads: Link
forgiving. If you can get your head around getting that…thing out of you, you might just be forgiven. On the other hand, if you keep on your current path, you’re choosing one life of whatever it gives you in exchange for eternal torment. Again, your choice. But I’d suggest that you start thinking about alternatives.”
“I’ll keep that in mind,” Downing said, frowning slightly.
“Me, I’d damn you and be done with it,” Barb said. “But I tend to be rather Old Testament. Jesus is the forgiving one.”
* * *
“So,” Barb said as they headed back to the office. “Tell me about PCP. You said you were a street cop once, right? Ever deal with it?”
“Rarely,” Kurt said, holding onto the door handle as Barb weaved through traffic. “It’s not as big as it was in the eighties. When something gets a bad street rep you know it’s bad. But, yeah, I had to handle a couple of guys on it.”
“How bad?” Barb asked, slipping into a narrow gap between a semi in the left lane and the truck ahead of her in the right. “I hate semis that go slow in the left lane and just barely pass other trucks.”
“Pretty bad,” Kurt squeaked. “They don’t feel any pain so when you hit them with a K-11 it’s like you might as well not even bother. They’ll dislocate their own bones if you put them in a lock. You pin them to the ground and they end up doing one-handed cop push-ups. They get ahold of you, and you’d better have some good escape techniques. They bite like nobody’s business. Lost a chunk of flesh on my forearm to one. You start to recognize the signs after a while and call for backup if you’ve got time. The best bet is to do a Rodney King on their ass, but departments frown on that. And, hell, hitting a guy on PCP with truncheons just pisses him off. You get enough Tasers on one, you can knock him out. That’s about your best bet, five or six Tasers more or less simultaneously. And hope he’s got a good heart.”
“Don’t have to worry about killing these things,” Barb said. “They’re not human anymore.”
* * *
“You think you’re going to find anything in here?” Kurt said, setting down another stack of folders.
“I have no clue,” Barb replied. “I hope so.”
“Because one thing you’ve probably noticed is that these attacks have been getting closer and closer together,” Kurt said. “The first one that we’ve pinpointed as being similar in nature was two years ago. Then a year after that. Then three months. Then four in the last six. The last three in the last two months. That’s when we got called in.”
“I’ve noticed the pattern,” Barb said. “I’m looking for any indication of what may be causing it.”
“That’s what over a dozen agents have been doing for the last two months,” Kurt pointed out.
“They weren’t looking for what I’m looking for,” Barb said. “Most of this seems to be looking for an environmental cause. A drug that’s not detected by the usual tox screen. Some environmental toxin they’ve been exposed to. You’re not going to find a mystic cause by taking a surface swab. The good news is, it’s not movie zombieitis.”
“That would be bad,” Kurt said. “You’re sure they’re zombies?”
“That or something damned close,” Barb said. “Did they go nuts then lose their souls? I suspect it’s the other way around.”
“So what are you looking for?” Kurt asked.
“I’m not sure,” Barb admitted. “Patterns that normal investigators would dismiss. Unfortunately, so far I’m going over tilled ground. All males in their twenties.”
“Tilled,” Kurt said.
“So I’ve noticed,” Barb replied dryly. “Mostly students at the University of Tennessee, Chattanooga branch. All residents of the Chattanooga area. But none of them from the same area of Chattanooga.”
“UTC is a commuter college,” Kurt said. “Most of the students don’t live on campus. They’re making more dorms but it’s still mostly
“I’ll keep that in mind,” Downing said, frowning slightly.
“Me, I’d damn you and be done with it,” Barb said. “But I tend to be rather Old Testament. Jesus is the forgiving one.”
* * *
“So,” Barb said as they headed back to the office. “Tell me about PCP. You said you were a street cop once, right? Ever deal with it?”
“Rarely,” Kurt said, holding onto the door handle as Barb weaved through traffic. “It’s not as big as it was in the eighties. When something gets a bad street rep you know it’s bad. But, yeah, I had to handle a couple of guys on it.”
“How bad?” Barb asked, slipping into a narrow gap between a semi in the left lane and the truck ahead of her in the right. “I hate semis that go slow in the left lane and just barely pass other trucks.”
“Pretty bad,” Kurt squeaked. “They don’t feel any pain so when you hit them with a K-11 it’s like you might as well not even bother. They’ll dislocate their own bones if you put them in a lock. You pin them to the ground and they end up doing one-handed cop push-ups. They get ahold of you, and you’d better have some good escape techniques. They bite like nobody’s business. Lost a chunk of flesh on my forearm to one. You start to recognize the signs after a while and call for backup if you’ve got time. The best bet is to do a Rodney King on their ass, but departments frown on that. And, hell, hitting a guy on PCP with truncheons just pisses him off. You get enough Tasers on one, you can knock him out. That’s about your best bet, five or six Tasers more or less simultaneously. And hope he’s got a good heart.”
“Don’t have to worry about killing these things,” Barb said. “They’re not human anymore.”
* * *
“You think you’re going to find anything in here?” Kurt said, setting down another stack of folders.
“I have no clue,” Barb replied. “I hope so.”
“Because one thing you’ve probably noticed is that these attacks have been getting closer and closer together,” Kurt said. “The first one that we’ve pinpointed as being similar in nature was two years ago. Then a year after that. Then three months. Then four in the last six. The last three in the last two months. That’s when we got called in.”
“I’ve noticed the pattern,” Barb said. “I’m looking for any indication of what may be causing it.”
“That’s what over a dozen agents have been doing for the last two months,” Kurt pointed out.
“They weren’t looking for what I’m looking for,” Barb said. “Most of this seems to be looking for an environmental cause. A drug that’s not detected by the usual tox screen. Some environmental toxin they’ve been exposed to. You’re not going to find a mystic cause by taking a surface swab. The good news is, it’s not movie zombieitis.”
“That would be bad,” Kurt said. “You’re sure they’re zombies?”
“That or something damned close,” Barb said. “Did they go nuts then lose their souls? I suspect it’s the other way around.”
“So what are you looking for?” Kurt asked.
“I’m not sure,” Barb admitted. “Patterns that normal investigators would dismiss. Unfortunately, so far I’m going over tilled ground. All males in their twenties.”
“Tilled,” Kurt said.
“So I’ve noticed,” Barb replied dryly. “Mostly students at the University of Tennessee, Chattanooga branch. All residents of the Chattanooga area. But none of them from the same area of Chattanooga.”
“UTC is a commuter college,” Kurt said. “Most of the students don’t live on campus. They’re making more dorms but it’s still mostly
Similar Books
