The X Factor

  The X Factor

  by

  Bella Street

  Apocalypse Babes | Book Two

  The X Factor finds the Apocalypse Babes friends, along with a few other lost L.A. stragglers,ensconced in a compound that may or may not be run by evil Soviet scientists. Whether it's due to Bolshevik beliefs or a manipulating girlfriend, nightmares are on the loose and they want what's left of Seffy after the zombie attack. To make matters worse, one of the stragglers develops an unwanted attraction for Sef, and insists it's more than just UST à la Mulder and Scully.

  Firefly Press

  Nashville, TN

  The X Factor by Bella Street

  © 2011 Kindle Edition

  All Rights Reserved

  Cover by Palindrome Design/Magyar Design

  Photo © © Valua Vitaly

  © Tomislav Zivkovic

  Listen while you read playlist at ApocalypseBabes.com

  Bella Street's other titles:

  The Z Word—Apocalypse Babes Book One

  Kiss Me, I'm Irish—Time For Love Book One

  Visit me at

  ApocalypseBabes.com

  and

  BellaStreetWrites.com

  Also my blog, Facebook, and Twitter

  And behold a dream came to me, and visions fell down upon me,

  and I saw visions of chastisement, and a voice came bidding I to tell it to the sons of heaven, and reprimand...the watchers.

  Book 1 of Enoch

  Chapter One

  She bucked on the table and screamed until her voice ran out. Arching her back, she strained against the bonds holding down her wrists and feet. A raging fever made the sweat run off her body in rivulets, contrasting with the icy cold of the metal table against her exposed skin.

  Her heart ricocheted out of control but she gritted her teeth and pulled harder, muscles straining and creaking. Gasping for breath, exhaustion draining her reserves, she marshaled the last of her strength and pulled.

  Something popped. Her bones? Seffy noticed her arm was slack. Breathing hard, she yanked her arm and was shocked when it flung loose of the leather strap.

  Free! Oh, I'm free!

  She lurched to a sitting position, wincing against the bright light overhead. Hanks of hair hung in her eyes as she clawed at the other strap. It took her a frantic moment to figure out it was a buckle. Once her arm was loose, she set to work on the straps around her feet then slid to the floor, crouching and terrified. Shudders wracked her body from the effects of the fever.

  She had to escape before she was discovered. But where to go? Struggling to her feet, she clutched the side of the bed for support. Her clumsy movements knocked over a small metal tray. Surgical instruments clattered to the floor. Two ice picks and a rubber mallet lay on the gleaming tiles. Her eyes widened at some disconnected memory.

  Convulsions seized her, but she stumbled out the door and fled down the hallway. She ran like the wind, her determination to survive giving her super speed. Through the twists and turns of the compound she flew. Orderlies in white watched her run past, unable to stop her. People yelled and pointed in her direction. Suddenly she came to a painted cement block wall—a dead end. She slid to a stop, her heart racing like a hummingbird's.

  A spasm in her stomach made her double-over and grab her middle. God, I'm hungry. Where's that damn cafeteria? A rising murmur of noise caught her attention. She twisted to her right and saw the cafeteria stretching over a vast area. Plump lunch ladies in hair nets presided over giant pots of soup next to shelves full of sandwiches, pie, and fruit. Hundreds of people teemed at tables with trays of food, slurping, smacking, talking with their mouths full.

  Seffy ran into the crowd, threading her way around tables, pushing past compound residents. Startled gasps followed her progress.

  A woman clutched at her sleeve, but she flung her away.

  “Hey, lady, the food is that way!”

  Seffy ignored a man jerking his thumb toward the kitchen. Shoving people to the side with her furious strength, she dislodged food trays and knocked chairs out from under diners. It was the smell that drove her. It came from the other end of the cafeteria.

  Seffy crashed past the remaining diners in her way, tripping on chair legs, and sliding on spilled food. She burst through the edge of the crowd and stopped short. A little girl in a polka dot dress stood in the corner holding a lunch tray.

  The smell. Oh God. Her mouth watered.

  The girl saw her and her eyes widened in terror. The tray slipped from her fingers, the food splattering to the floor. She opened her mouth.

  Seffy dove towards her as the girl's horrified scream rent the air—

  “Seffy!”

  Hands plucked her. She clawed them away, furious at the interruption.

  “Seffy, calm down! And for God's sake stop screaming.”

  Blinking in the harsh light, she peered up at a silhouette hovering over her. Was this real or imagined? Dream or nightmare?

  “Gareth?” Her voice came out as a ragged whisper. Was he here? Did that mean he forgave her after all? Not just out of pity, but offering complete absolution? The figure snorted, suspending her horrified angst for a moment. Not Gareth. He wouldn't be so cruel. She hoped.

  She squinted. “Fenn?”

  “No. Geez.”

  Not much surprise there. Fenn never had been much good in an emergency despite the fact that he ran the remote Montana compound.

  Wait! Was she still at the compound? Had it all been a dream? Was she finally waking up from that freakish nightmare? Oh, God, please let me be home. Let me be free!

  The man leaned forward into the light, his attention fastened on something below her. She stared at his greasy, dark blond hair and grimy face. “Trent?”

  “It's about time.” He glanced at her, his expression hectic. “Now just hold still 'cause I'm gonna get you outta here.”

  Chapter Two

  Seffy stared at Trent, alarmed at the deeper shadows under his cheekbones and the feral gleam in his gray eyes. He'd always looked a little rough around the edges, but this was worse. Her brain groped for some sense of linear time. Something had happened, something seriously whacked. Of course there was the part where she and several others had been inexplicably transported almost thirty years into the past from West Hollywood to Montana by an unidentifiable apocalypticish explosion.

  But besides that.

  “Why didn't Gareth come for me?” she rasped.

  “Gareth? He's mostly useless. Besides, he got shot.”

  “What?”

  “You don't remember?”

  Seffy squeezed her eyes shut, trying to make sense of the shifting memories interspersed with horrific hallucinations. “Is he alive?” Her voice came out faint.

  “He's fine. Probably, anyway. Hold still.”

  Her hands jerked free. She looked down in confusion at the cut leather straps and frowned. “I thought these had buckles and that I got out with my super strength.”

  He held up a wicked looking knife in his white-knuckled hand. “No buckles, just this.”

  “I need to see Gareth.” She rose up as much as she could at the moment, leaning on her elbow, and noticed she was wearing an unfamiliar tank top and shorts. “What happened to him? We have to find him and the others!”

  Trent went to work on the straps at her feet. “Do you remember anything that happened in the basement?”

  A picture hovered in her brain of a dank industrial area beneath the compound mixed with images of people screaming behind bars. Then she stiffened as another memory surfaced. “Do you mean after I saw the zombie virus infected needle sicking out of my leg?”

  His mouth quirked. “Yeah, that.”

  “Not much.” She shuddered, suspecting she wouldn't
want to remember anything more specific because she was pretty sure there was worse to come.

  “The bad guys had doubled back on us and caught us just before we saw you next to Popov's body.”

  There it is. Brains. Blood. Stained concrete. Seffy gulped back a rush of nausea, lacking the strength to tell him she didn't want to know any more.

  “It was just then we saw the needle in your leg...and couldn't do a damn thing about it.”

  She winced, all at once remembering the anguished look in Gareth's eyes when he saw the syringe. “You're sure he's okay?” she asked, her voice hollow.

  “I think I'm offended. Here I am the hero and all you can talk about is Gareth.”

  Seffy wondered at his dry tone. “Are...you okay? You seem okay...just in desperate need of a shower.”

  The harsh lines of his face softened into a sardonic smile. “Let's just worry about getting you out of here, then we'll catch up on old times and personal hygiene.”

  “Yes, and then we help the others and all get out of this hellhole. No more double talk from Fenn and Fiona! No more excuses!”

  Trent's tight expression made her doubt the possibility of her declaration. But they'd be able to leave soon, right? Get back to their own time and state, in every sense?

  Shoving the hair from her eyes, she watched him saw at the strap at her ankle with the knife. She remembered she was in this predicament because she had followed Trent into the bowels of the basement. Mental note to self: following anyone into the bowels of anything is best avoided. It was there that all the bad guys showed up...bad guys, zombies, guns, and infected needles. God.

  Trent sawed harder. “Gareth took a couple of rounds to his shoulder trying to protect you, if that makes you feel any better.”

  It did.

  “And I figure he's fine because I've seen him yelling at the guards to be released.”

  She looked up. “Released?”

  Trent pulled the straps from her feet. “Time to go.”

  Seffy swung her legs to one side, fighting a wave of dizziness. She hoped Trent would help without being asked. When he didn't move, she glanced up at him.

  He stood immobile, his face somehow growing more pale in the bright surgical lighting overhead. “Whoa.”

  “What?”

  “Your...leg.”

  She followed his look and covered her mouth with a trembling hand. The spot where the needle had penetrated had become a large black wound oozing brown stuff, surrounded by spidery black veins that reached outward from the infection. “Oh, God.”

  Trent pulled in a shaky breath. “Let's go.”

  Seffy grabbed his arm, her palms sweating. “Am I a monster?”

  He regarded her for a long moment. “I don't know.” He looked down at her hand. “But you're burning up.”

  “I feel like I'm freezing. How long have I been here?”

  “A week. You've been in this room screaming for a week.”

  A week? Seffy shuddered and dropped her hand as the ramifications seeped into her brain. Why couldn't she remember anything since the basement? Why had she been strapped down to an exam table? Why hadn't she turned into a zombie? She flashed Trent a frightened look. “Have...I tried to...eat anyone?”

  He stared at her, uncomprehending.

  “Seriously, I remember wanting to eat this little girl in the cafeteria.”

  Trent offered a tired smile. “You haven't been in the cafeteria.” He motioned to the shunt in her hand. “This is all you've had to eat.”

  Seffy glanced at the I.V. drip.

  “Or whatever it is they've been pumping into your body.”

  “They? Who are these people?” She winced as Trent ripped back the tape and pulled out the needle in one swift motion. “Ow.”

  “The ones running this place now. Fenn is out of play, your friends, Malone, everyone involved with the zombies has been killed, controlled, or quarantined.”

  “Killed?” she cried, rubbing her hand. “Who's dead?”

  “Popov obviously...and his thugs didn't make it either. And those people in the cage.” He paused. “Fenn was going to wait for them to turn, to make sure they'd been infected, before he put them down. But those men, they just sprayed the cage with automatic gunfire.” A muscle jumped in his jaw.

  Seffy avoided visualizing the scene, feeling nauseated enough as it was. “So if Popov and his men are dead, who had us locked up? Where are they from?”

  Trent put his arm around her as she slid to her feet. Her legs wobbled beneath her. The floor was ice cold...almost as cold as the metal exam table.

  “Remember the guy who shot at you that first time? Apparently he had sympathizers and Fenn didn't quite get that little rebellion quelled. About twenty-five men got a hold of weapons by tricking Popov into thinking they'd joined his commie group. They were actually on the way to take you all out after dealing with Fenn and Popov.”

  “So you discovered the plot and alerted Fenn?”

  He urged her forward. “A lot of good it did. C'mon, we've got to get out of here.”

  She leaned against him, trying to focus on his face. “Then you escaped and came to get me?” Why? She was pretty sure Trent hated her guts.

  “I had to stop your screaming. It was making me crazy.”

  Seffy's cracked lips tried to form a grateful smile.

  “And it got me one of these.” He picked up a machine gun with his other hand. “Let's just say I had a talkative guard and after he told me what I wanted to know, he let me have this.”

  She swallowed. “Is he dead?”

  Trent shrugged. “Maybe.” A pause. “Ready?”

  “Are we going to get the others? Where are they?”

  “Not yet. I want to get you settled first.”

  Seffy pulled away from him. “What? No! We can't leave them!”

  Trent gave her a hard look. “Seffy, I have to get you out of here first. Your friends may be uncomfortable, but they're not being tortured.”

  “How do you know I was being tortured? Maybe I was just screaming because I was scared.”

  He stared at her. “Then you would know that. The fact that you don't remember the last week is a freaking huge tell that you were, at the very least, experimented on.”

  Trent tried to nudge her forward, but she resisted. “I don't get it—if the bad guys wanted me dead, why did they keep me alive?”

  “Seffy,” he said, exasperated, “you survived a zombie infection. I'm sure they want to know why.”

  “I'm not sure we ever decided those poor people were actually zombies.”

  He gave her a long-suffering look before tugging on her arm, which hurt.

  She bit her lip, hating the idea of leaving her friends behind for even a minute. Addison and Lani must be so scared. Gareth was wounded.

  “We have to get moving. It's only a matter of time before the guards realize we escaped.”

  She sent him a beseeching look. “As soon as possible we get the others, okay?”

  “Yes. Are you ready?”

  Seffy took another step and stumbled as the floor tilted beneath her. She put out her arm to stop her fall, and was caught around the waist by Trent. “I don't feel so good.”

  “Okay, brace yourself.”

  In the next instant, he hoisted her up and flung her over his shoulder. Before Seffy lost consciousness, she experienced a small measure of comfort knowing at least she wasn't wearing an open-backed hospital gown.

  ***

  Seffy jerked awake, the remnants of a violent dream making her body shake. After the world stopped spinning and her respiration slowed to a manageable pant, she took in her surroundings. Damn, still in the compound. And in yet another compound guest room, more soulless than an anonymous motel room with its beige-tinted color scheme. Then she realized there was someone next to her on the bed. She eased her head to the side. In the dim light she could see Trent with his eyes closed, his hands flung above his head, breathing hard.

  “Where are
we?” she croaked.

  “Somewhere safe...for now.”

  Seffy noticed his drawn features and wan skin. “Are you sure you're okay?”

  He opened one eye and looked at her. “I just carried you through like a mile of hallways. Then you either passed out or fell asleep.”

  “Sorry. And...thanks.”

  Trent blew out a breath and eased into a sitting position. Weariness deepened the lean lines of his face. “Let's just say it's been a rough week.”

  She regarded him with something approaching concern. “Did they hurt you, too?”

  He shrugged. “Nothing beyond being herded with a gun barrel and given very little food to keep me weak. Everyone is in a separate room. But you and Fenn got completely different areas.” His gray eyes surveyed her with anxiety. “What did they do to you, Sef?”

  Shadowy images flickered through her mind, mixed with a raw, metallic taste of fear. She shook her head. “I'm not sure. There may have been sharp things.” She closed her eyes briefly. “I don't think I want to remember.”

  He scrutinized her for several moments. “It sounded like you were being gutted alive. I could only sit in my cell and imagine the hell they were putting you through.”

  Seffy looked at the hole in the back of her hand and wondered how she was sane enough to put a sentence together. “How...long do they plan to hold everyone?”

  Trent sighed. “I think you're the key there. When they were done with you, they were going to be done with all of us.”

  “Because I'm a freak?”

  “Because you survived the virus.”

  She thought of the weeping wound on her ankle, then the cafeteria dream. “Are we sure about that? Maybe I'm just off to a slow start.”

  “Or maybe you have some kind of body chemistry that can fight this.” He pointed to her arms. “I bet the rest of your body looks like that, too.”