Free Zoo 2 by James Patterson Page B

Lecter in The Silence of the Lambs . Except this one is covered with a clear plastic quarantine tent, and Helen is screaming and thrashing against her restraints worse than ever.
    Even the stone-faced Marines there to protect us betray hints of fear.
    After Helen is loaded into the rear of the hazmat truck, Freitas, Sarah, and I are directed to the lead Suburban, where I’m surprised to see a familiar face.
    “Look what the feral cats dragged in,” says Mike Leahy, extending a meaty hand, the wind tousling his wavy silver hair. A high-ranking section chief with the National Security Agency, many months ago he acted as my unofficial government liaison and security escort. And let’s just say…we didn’t always get along.
    I grimace as we shake hands. “Good to see you again, too, Mr. Leahy.”
    Our convoy is soon tearing down I-15, an endless two-lane desert highway, toward the laboratory. We should be able to see the Teton Range rising to the east, but it’s obscured by that approaching dust storm.
    “I’ll be honest with you,” Leahy says from the front seat. “When word started to spread back in DC that you were bringing back an infected human? It gave us quite a chuckle. But no one’s laughing now.”
    “I’m glad,” I say, “but you’re wrong. ‘Infected’ implies some kind of disease-causing organism. Like bacteria, or a virus. We don’t think that’s the case here. Our working theory is, Helen’s prehistoric-like behavior is somehow being triggered by pheromones, just like the animals’ is.”
    “‘Helen?’” Leahy scoffs. “You actually named that thing?”
    “That thing is a human being,” Sarah snaps. “With a real name we may never know. Show a little respect.”
    Damn. I’m liking Sarah more every day.
    We ride in silence, and my mind immediately drifts back to Chloe and Eli. Freitas let me listen in as he called President Hardinson’s chief of staff from the plane and got his personal guarantee he’d send a team to track down my wife and son in Paris. Now there’s nothing else I can do but wait and pray that Chloe and Eli are found.
    “That sandstorm sure is moving fast,” says Sarah, gesturing out her window.
    I look over—and my eyes nearly bug out of my head.
    A smaller cloud of dust seems to be rolling across the desert right toward us.
    “What…what in the hell…?” Leahy stutters.
    As the cloud gets closer, I realize it’s not a weather phenomenon at all.
    It’s a charging herd of wild mustangs. Dozens of them.

Chapter 21
    “Aw, shit!” Leahy exclaims, grabbing his walkie-talkie. “Be advised, we got horses on our flank!” he barks into it. “All units—shoot and evade, shoot and evade!”
    I hang on tight as our Marine driver slams the gas, and the entire convoy swerves off the highway and begins to speed up.
    A mustang’s top speed can reach over fifty miles per hour, but I’m confident we can outrun them. I feel even more hopeful as I watch other Marines in each of the escort Jeeps slide their M14s out their windows and unleash a torrent of automatic gunfire at the galloping broncos, quickly felling one after another.
    But it’s still too little, too late.
    The remaining horses blast right through our line of vehicles. Glass shatters, metal groans, blood splatters, and bones crunch as thousands of pounds of car and horse collide at highway speed.
    Two Jeeps, the ambulance, and one Suburban are toppled immediately, tumbling in different directions.
    Then the Suburban I’m riding in is hit—and spins wildly, doing donuts in the desert dirt. Our driver, a female Marine, struggles to regain control as we’re thrown around the car’s interior like clothes inside a dryer.
    “Go, damnit, go!” Leahy yells as the Marine pounds the accelerator, kicking up more dust behind us. He pulls her sidearm from her holster and fires frantically out the broken window at the mustangs as they regroup and charge again.
    We can’t get away fast enough. Neighing and