Horde (Razorland #3)(72)

“There was … resistance inside one of the houses. By the time I got to him, it was too late.” From Stalker’s expression, he was taking the loss hard, so I just nodded.

Soon Fade’s crew joined us. He bore several new wounds, but after I scanned him head to toe, I was relieved to find no bites. There was no way I could grant Fade a merciful end, should it come down to it. I might as well ask Spence to shoot me. Morrow arrived last, also one man down. That put our current number at forty-two. I greeted Fade with a smile, though I wanted to kiss him. His dark eyes lingered on my mouth, and with effort, I recalled myself to business. We couldn’t carry on like Breeders in the field.

“Time for Dr. Wilson to account for this mess,” I muttered.

Lull

The door was bolted or barred from the inside, so I banged on the lab door with both fists until Wilson called out, “Who’s there?”

“Company D!” the men shouted, before I could reply.

That was enough to reassure him, apparently, because I heard the sound of latches being unfastened, then the door swung open. I felt safer once we all stepped inside, but not happier. If possible, the man looked older since the last time we’d been here, by years instead of months, and he was thinner too. They used windmills to generate power—that much I knew—but I wasn’t sure how well town commerce had stood up to the crisis. If the people who went mad normally worked at some trade, farmed, or crafted trade goods, then their supplies must be running low. Salvage could only take people so far.


“Lock up, please,” Wilson said.

The soldier closest to the door complied, then we followed Wilson to the large room where he’d hosted us first. My men didn’t relax; none of them looked at ease in this place. It was strange to them, just as it had been to me, and I hoped the scientist wouldn’t give his windmill lecture again. That might be the last straw.

“Somebody string this bastard up.” The demand came from one of the scouts, but I couldn’t see who’d spoken.

I whirled, fixing a hard stare on them. “We’re here to help, not impose punishment. His own people will decide if he’s guilty of anything.”

Wilson slammed a hand on the counter, rattling his glass odds and ends. “Who do you think begged me to find a solution? I told them it would take years and that the mutants might have changed by then. They insisted on a live trial over all of my objections, and I had pressure from Emilia in Soldier’s Pond too.”

That shut everyone up for a few seconds.

For the first time, I noticed how quiet the lab was, no ambient snarls or growls, and there was no accompanying Freak stench, either.

“What happened to your pet?” I asked.

Wilson lifted one shoulder, the posture of abject weariness. “Old age. Once it sets in, they go downhill fast. I did what I could to make him comfortable.”

The rest of us were horrified; he had been nursing a monster while his people ran amok and ate one another? Wilson really was crazy.

But Tegan showed signs of fascination. “Did you learn anything about the creature’s physiology while you had it in captivity? I’ve never heard of anyone studying a mutant.”

“We study all kinds of things,” Wilson said. “Or we did. The last year has been hard on the scientific community.”

“What the devil are you talking about?” Tully demanded.

Wilson sighed. “Winterville has always been split along two lines, the scientists who gathered to study the Metanoia virus and eventually developed the vaccine to treat it, and the lay people who supported them.”

“You mean those who did all the real work,” Thornton muttered.

From the rumble of agreement, other men felt the same. I sensed the mood getting ugly, after everything we’d seen today. To prevent a hanging, I needed to divert their attention, but Tegan did it for me. She was plainly curious, moving about the room with apparent absorption.

“So this was a research facility more than a town?” she asked.

The scientist indicated the lab, stocked with all manner of gadgets. “That’s the only reason I have this equipment. Most of it has long since stopped functioning, of course, as the people who knew how to repair it are long dead. A few things, my father taught me how to maintain, and it’s the reason I was able to extract enough genetic material to create that serum.” His face fell. “As it turned out, that was an appalling idea.”

“Seems to me you didn’t pay nearly enough,” Spence said. “You made this mess, then you nearly got some poor fellow killed calling us to clean it up.”

“Did Marcus get there safely?” Wilson asked then.

That would’ve been my first question, and his belated concern didn’t endear him to the rest of the men. I was familiar with how humans thought; they wanted somebody to blame for the evil they’d witnessed here. A time or two, I’d been accused of things I didn’t do, according to that mob justice. So as much as I’d wanted to hang him myself, I couldn’t let my men make Wilson a scapegoat.

“He did,” I said. “He was resting in fair health when we left.”

“What’s the Metanoia virus?” Tegan asked.

“It’s what started the end of everything.”

“Ah.” Doubtless she remembered my summary of our conversation with Dr. Wilson and what he’d told us about what led to the collapse.