Phoenix13: Redemption (Phoenix13 Book 2)

Part #10: Red Dawn: Chapter Three

Chapter Three

Down in the lobby of the inn, the Liberators awaited their Captain's arrival. When Jason looked around and saw their faces, he was shocked by the stark fear in their eyes. He wondered what could possibly have wedged a spike of terror so deep into the hearts of these brave men and women. For a moment, he felt his own heart beat harder as his mind began to race with possibilities.

"Rithian," Jason said. He crossed to his second-in-command's side. "Where's the messenger? And why do I feel like I just walked into a funeral hall? What happened in Nathandra?"

Rithian shook his head, shrugging uncomfortably. He stopped in front of a door that had been locked and barred from the outside. "Dunno about that. She's through there. Down in the basement."

Jason gritted his teeth. He seized the lock in one hand and twisted it open, pushing the door inward on squealing hinges. When he was through, he kicked it shut behind him, pausing for a moment to listen to the tell-tale thunk-click of the latch dropping into place. Turning toward the dark, flood-damp stairway ahead, he began the careful descent into the inn's basement.

The town doctor stood at the bottom of the stairs. He was old and tired-looking, with thin hair and dull gray eyes. A lifetime of watching people sicken and die seemed to have sapped the life out of him like a succubus's kiss. "Right through there," he said, nodding at the door on his left. "Careful. She was violent not long ago. And she's obviously infected with something awful. I would avoid touching her at all costs, Lord McKinley."

Jason nodded. Wordlessly, he moved past the doctor and wrenched open the door. Beyond was darkness as thick as congealed blood. With his heart thumping painfully and his throat as dry as desert sand, he stepped inside. The door swung shut behind him. It sealed with a dull clunk.

"Jason McKinley." A rough, hoarse voice sounded from the shadows. There was a small, weak cough. The scraping of metal on stone. "I don't have much time."

Jason heisted by the door with one hand resting against the grip of his gun. "Speak, messenger," he ordered. "What news from Nathandra?"

"The city is sick." The woman's loud, wracking coughs filled the dark room. She gasped, wheezing. When she spoke again, there was a new thickness in her voice. "Your father, King McKinley, has locked himself in the Council Hall. No one is allowed in to see him." She paused. The silence hung between them like a twisted net in the blackness. "Your uncle, the King's brother, sent me to find you. I fell ill not ten miles from this town. I was lucky to reach you at all."

Jason took a step forward. His heart, which had been racing a moment before, was dull and heavy in his chest. Deep foreboding rose in the pit of his stomach. His palms were clammy. "The disease," he said, fighting to keep his voice steady even as his legs shook under him. "What is it?"

The woman was silent. Only her harsh, heavy breathing could be heard. She began to say something, but was cut off by another coughing fit. When she had regained her breath, she sounded weary and spent. "No one can come in here. When I'm dead, lock the door and burn this place down. It can't be cured. It can't be cured, do you hear me? We're all dead, dead. We're all dead." Her voice broke and she began to sob. The eerie, wrenching sounds echoed loudly in the damp, enclosed space. "It'll take us all. Blood and sweat and tears. We're dying, my Lord McKinley. Nathandria is dying."

"No," Jason said aloud. The fierceness of his tone startled the messenger into silence. "No. Nathandria won't die. I won't let her. If it's a disease, it's got a cure. Someone'll know what to do. I've just gotta find the right guy for the job."

The messenger sobbed again. "My Prince, I..." In the darkness, Jason saw the faintest spark of light. The sick woman had lit a match and held it up before her face. In the flickering, guttering light, Jason saw that her face bore many of the same blights the first sick man's had. Her lips were parched and dripping blood. Her eyes were wide and bloodshot. Her skin was pale and bloodless. The hand holding the match shook horribly, like a small bird caught in a merciless storm.