Authors: Margaret Madigan
His reaction to this version of the vaccine did nothing to alleviate my exhaustion, or the insidious guilt that had taken hold in my gut. Until now my contact with any Infected had been adversarial. My goal in any interactions had just been to survive. Now that I’d spent so much time up close with them, my role in contributing to their condition ate at my conscience. Without the fuel of my original vaccine, Miriam never would have been able to cause this mess, but now that it was my job to make it right, I struggled to make it happen.
The Infected flailed side to side, moaning, this time making eye contact with me. I thought about how Rafe only saw the infection, but when this Infected looked in my eyes, I still saw the person underneath. Which made this work feel so wrong. In essence I’d disregarded everything I’d ever believed about medical ethics. I was experimenting on people, on this man, without his permission. Even though the Infected weren’t really capable of giving consent, it was wrong going against everything I believed. But if I didn’t test on infected subjects I’d never find a cure, and I couldn’t let that happen, either.
In the weeks since I’d been here, I’d made good progress narrowing in on a vaccine. I had tentative hope for this version, but for now it was a waiting game. I was just so tired.
Dodging Miriam as much as possible was a major chore, but even more, I struggled to keep my distance from the multitude of Infected in the building. Miriam and the rest of the team seemed comfortable around the Infected, treating them like pets or little children. They gave them simple chores that took advantage of their enhanced strength, or their instinct for violence for guard duty, but I had difficulty ignoring their hungry stares. They may have been higher functioning, but inherent in their infection was the craving to hunt and eat. I didn’t even want to think about the mutants Miriam kept in the basement before disposing of them. I spent the majority of my energy tweaking formulas, testing results, collecting data and failing to find a cure.
Unable to listen to the Infected’s distress any further, or deal with my own conscience, I headed for the door. Maybe a change of scene would clear my mind.
As I stepped out of the lab, Miriam met me in the hall. “Well?”
I sighed. “You know it’s too soon to tell. We have to give it some time before we can run samples.”
“You’d better produce something soon, Dr. Snow,” she snarled my name as if it were a curse. “I’m starting to think you don’t really want to find a cure.”
“Whatever. I’m tired and I really don’t have the patience for your accusations right now.”
As I stepped past her she grabbed my arm.
“You’d better deliver this time, or I’ll shoot you up with the virus to give you more incentive. If you aren’t going to give me what I want, I can at least have the pleasure of watching you turn.”
She laughed, but halfway through it degenerated to a gurgling rattle.
And there it was. The truth I had known coming in. When I’d surrendered myself, I’d done it to free the boys, and because I knew Miriam would have what I needed to finish my work. I’d had a vague understanding in the back of my mind that this would likely be a one-way trip for me, but now that I was faced with that reality, I balked. Whether or not I found a cure, Miriam would still kill me. Even though I’d known all along, hearing her say it in her taunting self-satisfied voice made my hands go damp with perspiration. Not that I’d give her the satisfaction of knowing I was terrified. That would just encourage her. So I stuck my hands in my pockets, lifted my chin and glared at her.
“I delivered the original vaccine. I’ll deliver this time, too. As long as you don’t muck with it like you did last time, it should work just fine.”
She squeezed my upper arm, yanking me close, her acrid breath blowing in my face.
“Watch your mouth, girl. You’re not as indispensible as that. I’ll be happy to watch you die, whether or not you ever produce a cure.”
It was insanity to poke the angry bear, but I’d had my fill of her. I jerked my arm from her grasp. “I’m taking a break. Unless you want to kill me now?”
I glared at her, challenging her to try, but when she didn’t grab for my arm again, I stalked in the direction of my office, my knees wobbling with every step. I’d called her bluff and she’d backed down this time, but it was stupid to push my luck. Miriam had gone so far past stable it wasn’t funny. Not that she had ever played with a full deck, but maybe it was time for me to come up with an escape plan. The problem was, I had no weapons, I was constantly guarded and the building, the entire Paragon complex, was crawling with Infected. My odds of success hovered somewhere between a big fat joke and no chance in hell.
Back in my office, the only sanctuary I had in this nightmare, I went to the window to watch the scene below. What used to be a peaceful view of the courtyard between buildings, complete with a fountain and manicured garden, had deteriorated into a neglected green space. The fountain was dry, except for where the Infected used it as an outhouse. The garden had turned into an overgrown wilderness. Unfortunately, the outer face of the building outside my window was an uninterrupted surface, unsuited in any way for escape. I couldn’t break the window to climb down, and even if I could, I’d be climbing down into the hands of hungry Infected.
That meant I’d just have to find another way. I turned from the window, evaluating what I’d need to take with me when I left. I could make do with my last journal if I cribbed some of the most important notes from the other journals. Other than that, I realized there was nothing here I wanted. Everything I wanted, or needed, was in a mansion back in the Hollywood Hills.
Feeling energized with purpose, I focused on my escape options. Now that I’d made up my mind, I wanted to do it soon. In fact, today wouldn’t be soon enough. Because I couldn’t leave from my office, I’d have to make my break when I went to draw a test sample from the latest Infected subject, which was scheduled in– I checked my wristwatch– two hours and thirty-six minutes. That gave me the time I needed to finish the transfer of notes to my most recent journal. I hurried to my desk, scrambling to collect all my research together, then set to work scribbling in code.
By the time I needed to go draw the sample, I’d finished transferring all the current data. I tucked the important one into my waistband at my lower back, under my lab coat. The rest I left scattered on my desk. Determined never to see the office again, I took one last look around
before stepping out the door.
In the lab my test subject had stopped rattling and moaning. When I approached the gurney to gather a sample, he appeared to be sleeping peacefully. He didn’t wake as I slid the needle into his arm to draw a vial of blood. Out of habit, I lifted his eyelid to check his pupils. I caught my breath when I saw the sclera was no longer bloodshot, but white instead. Reminding myself that it could have been a coincidental side effect of the latest formula, I tried to keep the first hints of excitement in check as I inserted the sample into the automated immunoassay machine.
It would take some time before the system completed work on the sample, so I used the time to evaluate my escape options. The only exits from the lab were the main entry at the glass doors, or the rear exit. I knew from experience Miriam and the rest of the scientific team spent most of their time here in the lab, in their offices, or down in the basement. Unfortunately, they rarely left the building. In addition, there were always Miriam’s Infected wandering the halls and reporting back to her.
They weren’t like the Infected I had come across out on the streets, or the ones in the holding labs downstairs. Miriam had been working on a cure for two years. While she hadn’t found one, she’d managed to keep brain function in herself and in the Infected she had working for her. The problem was, it didn’t seem to be stopping the other physical deteriorations, and eventually they would devolve into the Infected seen everywhere else. It was just a matter of time, and although Miriam didn’t watch my every move, I certainly didn’t have the freedom to roam anywhere I pleased.
I decided to check the bathrooms. If I couldn’t just waltz out the front door, and the third floor was too far to jump, maybe second floor bathrooms could offer some options. At this point, I’d consider anything.
The women’s restroom had one tiny wire mesh-filled window. Although it opened, it was far too small to fit through, even for me. I slipped into the men’s hoping for better luck in there. The room smelled terrible, a testament to the lack of janitorial services, and deterioration in fine motor skills among the Infected. I held my breath, trying not to inhale the stench while I checked the window in the bathroom. It was slightly bigger than the one in the women’s restroom, which led me to believe I could fit through. But when I dragged a garbage can over and climbed up for a peek outside, it was obvious two floors were still too far to drop without breaking a leg.
It was beginning to look like my best bet was to play it cool and walk out the front door, acting like I did it every day. I had a vague recollection of a motor pool of delivery vans in the clinical laboratory complex, perhaps in Building Eighteen. Many of the hospitals and clinics in the greater Los Angeles area had outsourced their laboratory work to Paragon. If I could get there, I might have a chance.
Back in the lab, the preliminary results of the analysis were almost done. I checked on the Infected again, who remained unconscious, but his eyes were still clear and his body temperature proved to be in normal range. As illogical as it felt, I wanted to share my excitement with someone. If this was the formula–a big
if
–it would be a major breakthrough.
When I scanned the lab, I realized I was alone. This in itself was a miracle and a perfect opportunity to just walk out the door. But what if this really was the cure? I bit my lip, trying to decide what to do. Checking the analyzer, it showed three minutes left on the countdown. I could wait that long. I could work on confirmation at my old lab or at the mansion.
When the machine’s timer pinged, I held my breath as I retrieved the results. They were so amazing I checked them twice. When I compared them to his previous blood work the virus still existed in his blood, but the counts were drastically lower.
“I did it,” I said, allowing my shaking hands to fall to my sides, my mind racing with the implications. I had the urge to do a celebratory dance, but I reminded myself that not only did the results require further analysis to confirm the preliminary cure, I also needed to get the heck out of this building before Miriam discovered my success and I became obsolete.
When the door opened, Miriam entered with two of the other scientists and a handful of Infected. My heart dropped. I knew I was already doomed.
As she stepped forward, I backed away until I bumped into the lab counter, leaving me nowhere left to go. I lifted my chin, hoping I could talk myself out of her plans.
“Miriam, how can I help you?”
She grinned, stepping forward again. “Now, that’s the attitude I like to see from you. Are these the latest results?”
She plucked the paper from my hand before I could pull it back.
Although I knew she could interpret the results as well as I could, I downplayed them anyway. “They look promising. I think we’re heading in the right direction. Another week or so of tweaking and we may have a workable vaccine.”
She grinned wider, splitting her lip open again, sending a drop of her infected blood splashing to the floor. “So cautious, aren’t we?”
“I don’t understand.”
“You always underestimate me, Gwynnie girl. This is it. We have it this time. Which means I don’t need you anymore.”
She nodded at one of the Infected who rushed forward to grab me, snapping my neck back to expose my throat. I screamed once in surprise, but quickly bit down on the inside of my cheeks. If she was going to kill me, I wouldn’t give her the satisfaction of seeing me terrified, or groveling.
“Larry?” She held her hand out to one of my former colleagues. Larry withdrew a syringe from his pocket, handing it to Miriam.
“What is that, Larry?” I asked, an hysterical edge to my voice. The contents of the syringe were dark red, like old blood.
His expression grave, he refused to meet my eyes. I struggled against the Infected holding me, but he only tightened his grip.
“What are you doing, Miriam?” I demanded. Maybe if I could get her talking I could buy myself enough time to figure a way out. But she didn’t answer, only moved closer until she was only inches away, syringe in hand.
“Let’s see what this does for our little overachiever, shall we?”
I whimpered, trying to shake my head, but I may as well have been in a vise. “Don’t do this, Miriam. There’s no need to do this.”
Miriam smiled as she watched me, conveying her delight with my pleading and fear. But I understood something else, too. No matter how I much I pleaded, no matter what I said, I would never get her to do anything except what she intended to do all along. So I lifted my chin, opened my mouth one last time and called her a very bad word.