Pathosis (A Dark Evolution Book 1) Read online

  She gasped in astonishment as she was ushered in. The break room had been converted into a high-tech command center. Holy crap! The windows had been blacked out, cords were taped all across the floor, and the long lunch tables were covered with laptops and large monitors. On a giant projection screen hanging on the wall, there was a satellite image that she knew well; it was Miami. What she didn’t understand was the handful of small red dots that were glowing on different points across the city. Moreover, what the hell did any of this have to do with her?

  When she entered the room all eyes turned to look at her, and there were a lot of them, all in suits or lab coats, all dead serious. Emily Brisbane stood in her loose-fitting sweat suit with no socks or underwear, wondering what the hell was going to happen to her.

  “Lieutenant?”

  “Yes,” Emily answered, turning toward the speaker. He was a tall man with a broad chest and a nicely fitted black suit. Coupled with the white button up shirt and chiseled jawline, he practically screamed FBI.

  “I am agent Marlon Grey.” As he approached, he lifted his eyes to the officers who flanked her. They gave him a nod and then dispersed. He held a large, bone white hand out to her.

  She took the hand and shook it tightly. “Agent Grey, you’ll forgive me if I forgo any pleasantries. I’ve been dragged out of bed and rushed here with no explanations. Please, bring me up to speed.”

  The FBI agent eyed her clothing. “Yes, I see. My apologies, ma’am, the urgency is with good cause. How are you feeling today?”

  Emily cocked her head to the side, regarding him a little curiously. “I’m fine now. I had a migraine this morning. I do get them now and again. The only cure is quiet, sleep, and some medication. The officers who came to collect me asked me the same, so I’ll ask you again, what the HELL is going on?”

  The agent scanned the room behind him and Emily saw many faces return to their work.

  “Marc Velez is dead.”

  Emily gasped and held a hand up to her mouth. “Marc? Oh, no! How? When?”

  The agent cleared his throat. “Marc was bitten by a strange spider yesterday during your walk-through on board the Darwin. Is that correct?”

  Emily started to shake her head then nodded. “Yes, yes he was. He was bitten on the neck. I sent him home early because he wasn’t feeling well after that.”

  “Did anyone else have contact with this, or any other, spider?”

  Emily stared at him for a moment in bewilderment then answered, “No, none of us. After the spider attacked Marc, we moved above deck and into the top level of the superstructure. We didn’t see the spider again. Did the spider have something to do with Marc’s death? What happened to him?”

  “You said the spider attacked him.”

  “That’s correct.”

  “Had petty officer Velez accidentally touched it, or did the attack seem unprovoked?”

  Emily sighed, she supposed the answers she wanted were just going to have to wait. “It was unprovoked. The spider jumped several feet from on top of a stack of glass cages and landed on Petty Officer Velez.”

  The agent nodded, and whispered something to a man in a long coat at one of the tables near them. The man nodded, as if he was already aware of this information.

  “Agent, please. Tell me what happened to Marc.”

  The agent straightened himself and addressed her in a monotone voice with not even a flicker in his eyes. “Marc Velez went home yesterday and murdered his wife.”

  Emily’s hand flew up to her mouth once more. She had met Marc’s wife at a picnic. She was a kind and beautiful woman,.

  “He then chased his fifteen-year-old sister-in-law for several miles down empty streets. According to her, he was running faster than should have been possible.”

  “What-”

  “His sister-in-law is a track star.”

  “Is?”

  “Yes, the sister-in-law survived. She lured Marc out onto I-395.”

  “Jesus.”

  The agent nodded. “Indeed. Well, the girl must have had someone watching over her. She made it past four lanes of traffic before Velez was struck by a pickup. He was killed instantly.”

  “Holy shit. I mean, pardon me, this is a huge shock.” Emily shook her head, trying to make sense of something that made no sense at all. “Wait, why are you asking about the spiders? What else happened?”

  “During her statement, the sister-in-law told police that Velez had come home from work not feeling well. He seemed to get worse as the night went on. According to her, he complained about having a severe headache. Then he apparently went totally ‘batshit,’ to use her words.”

  “How?”

  “The attack on his wife came with no warning. According to the girl, it was as if something just completely snapped and he went crazy. The murder was extremely brutal.”

  “And you are thinking he was exposed to something earlier in the day, like the spider bite, that could have caused this, snap?” Emily asked, piecing things together. That explained the full-court press at my door when I called in with a headache.

  “Ma’am, I don’t think that you are going to be cleared to receive much more information.” The agent’s tone actually sounded apologetic.

  Then Emily snapped, “Are you freaking kidding me? Enough! Spill it, now!” She stomped over to the large map projected on the wall, the one that showed Miami with a handful of red dots on it. She slammed her hand against the wall. “Tell me what this means, now! Tell me!”

  “Ma’am-”

  “Don’t ma’am me, dammit! I want to know!”

  Before she had finished her sentence, a strong hand grabbed her by the arm and thrust her into a hard plastic chair. The chair skidded a little and then was still under her weight. She prepared to jump up, but heard the click of a Glock 17 being cocked. Her special agent ‘friend’ stood over her. The weapon was in his hand, which was hanging by his side, loose but ready. His finger was lingering on the trigger guard, but she knew that it would take only a split second for it to drop down over the trigger.

  What is going on here?

  Chapter 10

  The cat was making a racket. It was mewing and vocalizing loudly. Dena could hear her from the living room. It was a stray cat and usually it did not bother her, except when her golden retriever, Holly, tried to chase it across the neighborhood, then Dena would inevitably have to run after it.

  “Ugh, jeez, what is that darn cat meowing at now?” Dena muttered in frustration as she pulled herself off the couch. Holly lifted her head from the couch, her big eyes questioning Dena.

  “I just want to find out why it’s making such a racket, Holly.” Dena lived alone with Holly, and tonight she was enjoying one of J.R.R. Tolkien’s epic masterpieces. Unfortunately, the grating meow of the cat was interrupting this pleasant afternoon reading hour.

  Dena made her way out of the front door, leaving a confused Holly on the couch. As she walked out to the driveway she saw the big golden staring out the window at her, its paws on the window sill. She shook her head. Silly girl.

  Meeeeooooow!

  “Come on cat, what’s the problem? Are you hungry? Did you get stuck in something?”

  Dena found the cat right behind her small SUV in the driveway. It was crouched down low, and batting at something under the car. Abruptly, it would yank back a paw and let out another loud meow.

  Dena crouched down by the cat, who glanced up at her, then focused it attention back to whatever it had cornered under the car. The cat was right by the rear driver’s side tire.

  Dena couldn’t see anything. This time of day, her SUV was in heavy shadow between houses, so the underside of the car was nearly black.

  “What did you find, cat? Is there a chipmunk under there? A squirrel?” Dena actually
laid out on the cement behind her car, quite curious now. She still couldn’t make out what the cat was batting at, though she thought she saw movement, right behind the wheel.

  “Here, get out of here a minute,” Dena said. She pushed the cat out of the way with her arm and squeezed in close to the back tire. Then she reached under the car with her hand. Her fingers crawled along the cool concrete, searching. She thought she felt movement close to her hand but then it was gone, like the ghost of a memory. She extended her arm all the way under and almost … nothing.

  The cat let out another long meow.

  “Fine, good luck. Just try to keep it down out here.” Dena picked herself up and looked down at the cat. It looked back up at her with an expression that said one thing: “f-you.”

  As Dena reached her front door again she heard the cat behind her, “Meeeeow! Meow, meow!”

  Dena shook her head and closed the door behind her. “Sorry Holly, looks like we’re gonna have to close up the windows after all.”

  “That’s enough, Marlon.” The voice was deep but warm, as a grandfather’s voice should be.

  Emily turned from staring at the agent’s hand holding the semi-automatic pistol, to the man who had just walked in. He even looked like a grandfather. He was easily in his sixties with perfectly combed silver hair and a full, neatly trimmed beard. He had slightly sagging jowls, and beneath his long white doctor’s coat, she could see he wore a bit of a paunch.

  Agent Grey took a step backward, but did not holster his side arm.

  “Lieutenant Brisbane, I’m Dr. Robert Ormiston.” The man held out a worn hand to her.

  She took the hand and was surprised by his firm grip.

  “So, lieutenant, tell me what you see when you look at this map.”

  “Doctor, she does not have the requisite clearance-”

  “Hush, agent. Soon I fear those with no clearance at all will be very aware of this.”

  The agent holstered his weapon and turned away from them, frustrated but compliant.

  “Doctor, what is this?”

  “Tell me what you see here,” he repeated, pointing at the map.

  “The city of Miami, of course.”

  “Of course. Can you elaborate?”

  Emily looked from the doctor to the map and stared silently at it for a full three minutes. “The city is experiencing some sort of occurrence, and those occurrences seem to be emanating in a rough wave away from…”

  The doctor eyed her and nodded for her to continue.

  “The point of origin, if traced back, looks to be this Coast Guard base.” Emily let her own words sink in. Looking briefly at the red dots, they seemed very random, and in fact they were, but there was a pattern in everything, and this pattern showed a path back to the Coast Guard station.

  The doctor was still nodding at her. “Lieutenant, you had absolutely no contact with the spider on the boat, right?”

  “Ship, and no.”

  “Right, ship.”

  “Marc isn’t the only one, is he?”

  “No Lieutenant, he is not. It appears your death ship brought with it some very deadly passengers, and they’re spreading across Miami as we speak.”

  “The same thing as Marc? I mean, are they acting crazy?”

  “The police had to be brought into the loop because 911 is completely overrun with calls. Six people have been murdered.”

  “Oh God,” Emily said.

  The doctor continued, “They were killed brutally, horribly, as if by a wild animal. No feelings, no hesitation, no basic human compassion.” The doctor had a grim look on his face.

  “The police found one woman with her throat torn out... by someone’s teeth! We’re doing everything we can to contain this until we can figure out exactly what is going on. Right now we don’t know if it is some kind of mind-altering toxin, or a bacterium they’re passing over to us, but whatever it is, it’s fast-acting and devastating.” He gave a shiver.

  “Somehow these spiders are turning people into human rage monsters. We won’t be able to contain it for long. People are going to start panicking.”

  “And you think this could spread?”

  He nodded gravely.

  Emily was breathing heavily, nearly hyperventilating. “So that’s what happened on the ship.”

  The doctor looked surprised by her assertion.

  “Why yes, that’s what we believe. The crew took on these arachnids either by accident or design, and they spread this rage across the ship, until they were all dead.”

  Someone shouted across the room, “There’s another one in progress! Police are chasing him down now!”

  The doctor rushed over to him. “Tell them to take him alive! For God’s sake, we need a damn specimen to test!”

  Emily did something she had not done since she was a small girl. She pulled her legs up onto the chair with her and hugged them tight to her chest. I just wanna go home.

  Jack was exhausted. It was only one in the afternoon but he felt like he’d been run ragged. The first phone calls started coming in at 5:30 that morning. Just after the news, he thought.

  His regular customers, even those whose houses had been recently treated, were calling to be sure they were protected against spiders.

  “Yes, of course,” was always his answer.

  Then, even after he explained that the pesticide he used did indeed work against spiders, they wanted additional treatment. He did his best to mollify them; going out and putting more of the same spray down just wouldn’t make a difference at all. Either it would kill them, or it wouldn’t.

  It was the new customers, however, that were running him ragged. After the news guy reported about the spider bite, everyone wanted to be treated. Jack pulled up to his thirteenth stop of the day. It was a brown bi-level parked very close to its neighbors. This was a tightly packed, lower-income section of Miami. He fielded many calls for roaches in this neighborhood. It was a shame, really, the close proximity of houses made it easy for pests to travel from one home to the other. For that reason, no one was safe from the advancing roaches, even if their house was spotless.

  Jack hoisted himself out of his red Toyota Tundra and stood out on the street looking at the house. Sweat first beaded up, then rolled off his brow and down his rounded cheeks. He was only standing there a few moments when the door opened and a middle-aged Latino woman came out and waved at him. Jack sighed and shook his head. She had been waiting for him; they all had been waiting for him today.

  “No rest for the weary,” he muttered, as he gathered his B&G sprayer from the back of the truck. “Or is it the wicked?”

  “Hola, señora,” he said in smooth, easy Spanish as he approached. “I’m here for your spider problem.”

  “Yes, yes, I know,” the woman said, taking his arm. “Come here, please, I need to show you.”

  Jack frowned. “Ma’am, I usually start at the front of the house and …”

  “No,” she cut him off. “Follow me please.”

  Jack stutter stepped, but the surprisingly strong woman pulled him along behind her. He supposed she was used to directing her children. As she pulled him down the hallway that bisected her house, she spoke in rapid Spanish. She told him there were rumors about spiders biting people, and making them go mad.

  He shook his head when she said this, but she dismissed him. Apparently, just twelve blocks away, someone had told her that this very thing had happened. Her husband’s cousin’s son-in-law had been pulling his bicycle out of the garage when one of these alleged spiders bit him. He grew ill and then became todo loco. The family claimed he had taken off into the streets, running and screaming mad gibberish. They had not been able to locate him since then.

  Jack heard ridiculous stories all the time, so he just chuckled a li
ttle to himself. Spiders always seemed to be the villains in everyone’s tales.

  The woman, who had still not introduced herself, brought him into a small hot kitchen. There was a teenage boy sitting in a wooden chair next to a four-person kitchen table. He was maybe fifteen (Jack was terrible at guessing ages) and the boy did not rise when they entered, but he eyed Jack with barely concealed suspicion.

  Jack smiled at the young man. “Hola,” he said. “¿Que tal?”

  The boy only nodded weakly at him in response, then looked away.

  Jack was neither surprised nor offended by the boy’s indifference to him. The Hispanic population of Miami had never been treated especially well - or fairly. It seemed the locals in the area had forgotten, in their zeal to protect this country from immigrants, that they had also emigrated here, a long time ago. In any case, the woman was tugging him once more.

  She stopped in the middle of the kitchen and pointed down. There was no need though, as Jack saw it right away. Almost directly in the center of the battered linoleum floor, there was a large glass canning jar. It was set face down on the floor so that the word Ball on the side of the jar was upside down. Atop the jar was a thick Bible, presumably to help hold it in place.

  “There,” she said. “We caught it.” She was pointing at the jar and looking at him expectantly.

  “Ma’am, this kills them all,” he said, raising the sprayer for her to see.

  “Please,” she said in English. “It bit my son.”

  Jack sighed, and remembered the stories she had been told about spider bites making people go crazy. She was worried, and scared, and that was a lousy situation. Reluctantly, Jack bent down to the jar. Have to keep the customer happy, I suppose. He pulled the Bible off the jar. The woman tensed. He couldn’t see much through the jar and was about to lift it off the offending creature when the woman spoke again.