Dead Waters - Anton Strout [83]
“The professor and the zombies,” I said. “They’re all gone.”
“Exactly,” Wesker said, lying the piece down on the reel. “This section should be filled with dozens of zombies from the film, but now they’re no longer there.”
“Of course they’re not,” Connor added. “Why should they be? All of them died in the theater, save Mason Redfield himself.”
“You mean they’re gone from the film completely?” I asked.
Wesker reached over to me and patted my head. “This younger generation,” he said. “They catch on so quick.”
Before I could say or do anything, a loud haroom came from the doorway and all three of us turned. Inspectre Quimbley and Jane were standing there, looking at us.
“Careful, Thaddeus,” the Inspectre said, walking in. “You keep petting him like that, he’s liable to follow you home.”
Wesker pulled his hand away like I had grown quills. “No, thank you,” he said. “You can have your lapdog back now.” He wiped his hand on his pant leg, and then turned his attention back to the Inspectre. “Well? What’s the damage?”
Jane stepped forward. “Actually, when I killed power to the building, I caused a bit of a problem with getting everything up and running again. I’ve been talking to the Department’s electrical grid with my technomancy and it’s starting to cooperate, but it may take a while for everything to fall in line.”
Wesker changed his focus to the Inspectre, looking none too pleased. “And what about your old . . . friend?”
The Inspectre sighed. “I’m afraid Mason Redfield is gone. We were able to take down all of the zombies that crawled out of the film, so it wasn’t a total wash.”
“So you let him escape?” Wesker asked. He turned his fury on me, his finger pointing only inches from my face. “This is all your fault, Canderous.”
My draw dropped. “How is this all on me?”
“I’m not sure,” he said, “but every time I see a fiasco around here, you’re somehow involved in it.”
“Now, Thaddeus,” the Inspectre chided. “No one just let Mason escape. He planned the whole thing perfectly, only we beat his students to the film apparently. He banked on the zombies providing enough of a distraction if his plans went wrong, thereby securing the means of his evading us. In life, Mason Redfield was quite clever, you know. And why wouldn’t he be? I practically trained him when he came into the Fraternal Order of Goodness. If you want to lay blame anywhere, you had best start at my feet.”
Wesker gave him a tight-lipped nod. “I’ll be sure to do just that when I speak to the Enchancellors.”
“Stop it!” Jane shouted, stepping between the two of them. “Our numbers in the Department are already far too few these days to start fighting among ourselves. Especially when we all that monster loose on the city.”
The Inspectre reached for Jane’s right hand, taking it in both of his. “Thank you, dear girl,” he said. “It’s easy to lose sight quickly in these trying times.”
“Hold on,” I said as something occurred to me. “Does this squash our murder investigation, then?”
Connor looked puzzled. “What do you mean, kid?”
“What I mean is that, technically speaking, Mason Redfield isn’t dead. We watched him walk out of here today, alive . . . ish.”
“A ritual raising like that doesn’t come without a blood price,” Connor added.
“Oh, I can more than guarantee that,” Wesker said. He scooped up the strand of film and rubbed the nail of his thumb against it. He pulled it away and held it up, showing that it had turned a brownish red color.
“This whole spliced-in section of horror film has been soaked in blood,” he said. “Something tells me it isn’t his own.”
“Ick,” I said. “Great. So how do we stop him?”
“First things first,” Wesker said. “We destroy this piece of film.”
“Do you think that’s going to work, Thaddeus?” the Inspectre asked.
“I’m not sure,” he said, “but there is magic bound to these frames, and as far as first steps,