Free Xenofreak Nation, Book Three: XIA by Melissa Conway Page A

checked his messages for the text he’d sent Mia. “She went to a den called Koo Koo Bamboo Tattoo. You got a list of the places that have been hit?”
    Alton made a move like he was going to go somewhere to find out, but Lo said, “Hold on.” She’d also taken her holophone out, and lines of text flowed around her finger as she scrolled through information.
    “Koo Koo was one of the first to get hit,” she said. “Dr. Padilla’s not on the list of victims, though.”
    “What about Bryn?” Scott asked.
    Alton shot him a look of disbelief. “You let her go, too?”
    “I didn’t let her do anything,” Scott snapped. “Have you met her?”
    Alton backed off, muttering, “Yeah, alright.”
    “Bryn’s not here, either,” Lo said. “Maybe they didn’t go after all.”
    Scott looked at Alton, then Lo. “So where the hell are they?”

Chapter Fifteen
     
    All eyes were on Dundee and Bryn as they walked across the store to the front counter. He had a hand on her upper arm, but she wasn’t resisting. There was no point. None of the shell-shocked customers would have interceded on her behalf.
    The last time she’d seen Dundee, he’d forced himself on her and she fought back, using her quills much like she’d used them on that man earlier, but in Dundee’s case, the quills had pierced his eyes. It had seemed to be a horrific injury and she’d been worried for months that she’d blinded him. That was obviously not the case, but he was still wearing his sunglasses, so maybe his eyes were light sensitive now or something. Either way, she’d made a mortal enemy that day, and here he was, almost casually claiming her – for payback? Bryn didn’t doubt it for a moment.
    His presence could only mean one thing: the Scaly Companion Pet Store and its xenografting den were owned by Dr. Fournier. Was the Bestia Butcher even now in the back operating on Mia?
    As they approached the counter, Bryn avoided looking at the dead men, but was hyper-aware of their sprawled bodies. Turk was standing next to the cash register, a handgun resting within arms-reach, evidence that he’d been waiting for Dundee and friend to arrive before he came out shooting.
    “Alright, everyone,” Turk announced. “That sucked, but it’s over now. Anyone who wants to avoid the police can go ahead and leave, but you’ll lose your place in line.”
    Nobody moved.
    The guy who’d come in with Dundee had a heavily freckled face and long red dreads. He hooked his hands under the arms of one of the dead men and started to drag the body away.
    One of the customers said, “You’re not supposed to move the bodies.”
    “Yeah?” the guy said. He pointed up at the ceiling. “See that camera? That’s all the police need. And just for that, you can help me move this meat. Get his legs. Unless you want his dead eyes staring at you until the cops get here – which will probably be hours from now, if they bother to show up at all.”
    The customer who’d spoken up swallowed convulsively. Bryn didn’t hear what he said, because Dundee pulled her with him to the door leading to the back room.
    Turk held out a hand as they walked past. Dangling from one finger was a blue surgical mask.
    “Oh, right,” Dundee said. He set his shotgun down on the counter with a clunk and took the mask, fitting it over his nose and mouth without taking off his sunglasses, and hooking the elastic behind his ears.
    It was a pointed reminder that Bryn was now in the company of patient zero, the first known case of the super typhoid. Dundee was Fournier’s man through and through, a carrier who had deliberately infected people with it at Fournier’s bidding, just like Junk had.
    They went through the door and walked down the hallway, past the room with the bioengineered animals and through another door into a larger room. There were around fifteen people sitting on chairs or lying on cots, in various stages of prep or recovery. The air was cold and smelled of