“The Guardsmen who were here, you did what? Experimented on them? Used them for whatever the hell it is you’ve been doing? What you’re doing to these poor people right now?” Rabbit snarled against the man’s ear.
“They…” gasp, “saved…us.” Another gasp and a cough.
“What do you mean?” Michael asked. McAlister tried to answer, but Rabbit had his head pulled too far back; all he could do was wheeze and cough. “Corporal, ease up.” After the soldier complied, Michael repeated his question.
“What we did, was to save you. To save—” he coughed again. “To save everyone. Those men and women, soldiers and colleagues of ours, we
had
to use them because
you
,” he twisted his head in Rabbit’s grasp to stare him down, “stopped sending our shipments!”
The soldier jerked the scientist’s head and tightened his grip on the man’s chin.
“You’ve been trying to find a cure?” Jonah spoke up.
“Impossible…” Evelyn answered this time.
“Shut your mouth,” McAlister hissed at her.
“No, you shut yours.” Rabbit slammed the man’s forehead against the tile floor, knocking him unconscious, then he slowly got to his feet, pulled his pistol, and aimed it at Evelyn. “Your turn.”
“Easy now,” I said, uttering the warning before I even knew I was thinking it. Michael caught my eye and nodded once, letting me know he was still in control of the situation, and of the corporal.
Mia cleared her throat, moving between Jake and up next to Michael like a ghost. She held her free hand up to the men, stopping their protests before they could begin, then she kneeled down in front of the woman.
“Go on, you can tell us.” Mia always had a way with people.
Evelyn’s lip quivered and her eyebrows knit together. “We tried to find a cure. We tried for so long. But it’s impossible. I’d explain but—” She cast a fearful glance at Rabbit.
“Go on,” Mia urged.
“It’s complicated. We did try. For months we tried. Then the order came to try…to try something else.”
Jake had been silent the entire time, his breathing growing louder and harsher. I flicked my eyes to the left, just to make sure he wasn’t about to stroke out or anything. He looked angry, but no more so than was usual. He wasn’t focused on Evelyn, as we all were. He was staring at the floor directly next to her and chewing on the inside of his cheek. That was his thinking face.
“What are you doing to these people, Evelyn?” Mia coaxed.
So far, no one had turned to look at the people lying on the tables.
Or the “Private” office door that now stood open.
“They’re making them better,” said a man, now standing behind me with a gun pressed just behind my ear.
“I’ll be goddamned,” Jake croaked.
* * *
No one spoke for a very long time. So long in fact, that David McAlister finally began to wake up. He grumbled a few times and moved his arms. Rabbit, without taking his eyes off of the man behind me, dropped a knee into the scientist’s back again and forced his forehead to the floor.
“I didn’t say you could talk yet.”
McAlister sighed heavily but didn’t argue.
My captor’s tone, that familiar scent, pulled my eyes in his direction. He was staring ahead at the others, his eyes lingering on Michael longer than the rest. Mia placed one hand on Evelyn’s shoulder to still her as the woman broke down in sobs.
“You…” I whispered.
My first thought upon seeing Warden Harvel again after so long should have been, “Holy shit!” But it wasn’t. I really thought he was just another ghost.
“Those things you’ve been running into? They made them,” Harvel said. “That’s what they’re doing.” He jerked his chin in the direction of the tables, his voice dead steady. My eyes flicked to him, then back to Jake, looking for some kind of help.
He simply nodded.
“Put your weapon down,” Rabbit said. Everyone’s barrels had lowered the instant Harvel stuck his to my head, but Rabbit’s was beginning to rise again.
Don’t you get me killed. Just take it easy.
“They couldn’t cure them…so they took a little from them,” Harvel continued, ignoring Rabbit. “DNA from the immune, DNA from the infected.”
Immune? There are people immune to the zombie virus? Who?
“Those men,
your
dad.” Harvel jabbed me with his gun and began dragging me to the front of the room, putting the scientists between us and my friends. “They’re immune. And these fuckers have been tinkering around with DNA tech on the survivors.” Our silence prompted him to continue. “Okay, let me put it to you this way.” He holstered his gun and grabbed a large knife from his side. “You take something from one thing, combine it with something from another, to make something else.” He pressed the knife to my throat, drawing blood and making me gasp. “Haven’t you people ever heard of genetically engineered corn? Those—things are genetically engineered.” He turned to get confirmation from Evelyn, who was nodding her head.
“They’re humans, living people, but they behave as the reanimates do.” Evelyn took a deep breath, suddenly very collected, and made eye contact with each of us. “No memory, no conscience, only instinct and a drive to return home. We programmed them to go home, knowing they came from all over the state. Once Dr. McAlister,” she glanced at her co-worker, “and his counterparts perfected the serum, we knew our subjects wouldn’t harm living beings, only the dead. We knew they would systematically work their way back home, eliminating the reanimated threat along the way. Eventually, this virus will be wiped out…because of them.” She swept one arm to the side, gesturing to the tables on that side of the room, and her voice had taken on a triumphant tone.
I haven’t turned yet, and I should have. I must be immune, like Dad. Why do I feel disappointed? Oh yeah, that’s right. Warden Fucking Harvel is going to kill me anyways.
For the first time I let my gaze wander over the tables lining the room. It seemed pretty apparent that the people were heavily sedated, otherwise they looked healthy. Well, as healthy as could be expected, seeing as how they had been kept in that cage. I noticed, with each of the survivors, their IV bags were almost empty.
“So whatever it is they pumped into these people to make them into killers, it’s in those bags?” My voice was weak and low. I already knew the answer, but I was stalling for time.
“Sure is, darlin’.”
The knife dragged slightly, drawing more blood.
“They’re already…changing.”
Harvel’s voice dropped to a whisper. “It’s going to take a while for the process to be complete, though. How do you think we should spend that time, hm?” He chuckled. His other arm was wrapped around my middle, pinning my arms to my body. I felt like I did that day Harvel’s bitch had me trapped in the infirmary.
Trapped. No way out.
“Jesus,” Jonah groaned.
More blood spilled down my front. Michael, Rabbit, and Jake raised their weapons at once. The room erupted in shouts. Harvel dragged me until his back was against the wall, and he was still chuckling.
“You don’t have to do this,” I pleaded.
“Yes, I do. And I’m going to enjoy it.”
“They’ll kill you if you do.”
“You really think I care?” He laughed and squeezed me so tight I could barely breathe. “Trust me, sweetheart. Nothing in this world would make me happier right now than taking your sorry ass with me.”
His arm shifted, the knife bit into flesh, and then I heard the crack of a bullet and felt something tug at my hair. I gasped again, sliding with Harvel as he sank to the floor to keep the knife from digging in and finishing the job. Once down, I didn’t move. I laid here on top of Harvel until his knife-hand relaxed and fell away. I didn’t feel his chest rising and falling, didn’t hear him breathing. People started rushing to help me. Rabbit was yanking things from his bag, wiping and pressing against my neck. They were all talking to me, but the only person I focused on was Jake. He stood above the others, his gun still in hand.
“You told me the next time I pointed a gun at your face, I better pull the trigger.” Then he smiled.
* * *
I came to sometime later, flat on my back on the floor, looking up at a circle of faces.
“This shit is getting real old,” I croaked.
“There she is. Welcome back,” Mia said, stroking my cheek.
“Yeah, yeah. Fuckers stop staring and get me up.”
“You better re—” Rabbit started to say.
“Rest, hell. Get me up.”
Mia and Jake pulled me to my feet. Rabbit explained my injury and that I’d be fine, it had been a shallow cut. I reached up and felt a very thick layer of gauze wrapped around my neck. Otherwise, I ignored their fussing and the pain. Something had caught my attention.
My legs moved on their own, taking me past the others and toward the back of the room. My heart stopped. Breathing ceased.
“Kasey?” someone called. I heard feet shuffling and then someone gasped.
A woman with curly blonde hair lay prone on the table. Her IV bags were empty, and her eyes were closed. She was still asleep; whatever godforsaken change these bastards had forced upon her had not yet woken her. I slipped alongside the table and stopped at her side. She looked like she was sleeping that kind of peaceful slumber it would be a shame to wake someone from. Gently, I reached out and traced the back of my hand along her sunken cheeks. Her skin was warm.
So they really are living, not deadheads
.
A shot rang out from behind me, followed by another.
Center 35 was officially closed.
A tear finally sprung and slid with agonizing slowness down my cheek, landing on the woman’s own. I touched a fingertip to it, causing it to fall.
We’re the same
.
“Mrs. Stratford?” Mia ran to the other side of the table and grabbed my mother’s arm. “Liz?” She was frantic, and was about to start shaking the sleeping figure. My hand shot out and shoved Mia away.
“Leave her be.”
Mia’s eyes widened and she backed away. It must have been something in my voice, compounded by “that look” I had been lectured about. Either way, she left us alone.
“What do we do now?” Jake asked.
“I don’t know,” Michael answered.
“We can’t just leave these civilians, sir,” Rabbit whispered.
Jonah cleared his throat. “We can’t do anything for them, either.”
I mumbled something and gripped my mother’s hand, my thumb rubbing her knuckles. Mia eased around the table and stood next to me, afraid of what I might do. I mumbled again, and she put her hand on my shoulder.
“What was that, hun?”
“I don’t want to do this anymore. I want to go home.”
November 25th
After staring down at my mother for what felt like hours, I wandered off and found myself in the “Private” room adjacent to the laboratory. It was the office of the late David McAlister. The others stayed behind, removing IVs and restraints from the “Terminators,” mostly because they didn’t know what else to do. They assumed that once the people woke up, the drive to return home would cause them to react violently, and regardless of what had been done to them, they were still people. There was no sense in letting them rip their arms open trying to rid themselves of needles and straps that were holding them down.
I sat down in the oversized and overstuffed chair behind the desk. Besides finding my mother, I was still dizzy and shaken from almost having my neck sawed in two. There were papers scattered and strewn over the top, an empty coffee cup, a computer, and a framed picture of a woman and kids. Since I wasn’t yet thinking clearly, my finger reached over and hit the power button on the computer. Force of habit, I guess. I knew I was in shock, but also knew from experience that McAlister’s personal notes would be somewhere on that computer. The entire complex was being supplied with power from an unknown source, and I didn’t need the internet, just needed to find his notes and get all the details.
I understood what Evelyn and Harvel had said earlier. I’d feigned ignorance, as I had been since my group first came together. I didn’t want any of them to know about my background. Hell, even Mia didn’t know
everything
. She was still under the impression I had worked in a chemical plant. That was the story I had told everyone. It had always been simpler that way. Mom and Dad were the only two people who had known everything. I kept to that cover story after the outbreak, knowing damn well if any of them knew I had worked in an R&D facility, I would have never had a moment’s peace. They would have either been at me night and day about what I could do to stop the deadhead virus, or what I knew about its origins.
And I had answers for neither.
My previous employment had
not
been with the government. I’d had
no
access to any information regarding the z-virus. I had no knowledge of what was to come, though I had been tipped off by a friend of a friend who had connections way above my pay grade, about two months before the initial outbreaks. His name was Brad, weird guy, and he was most likely dead now. Regardless, information had been leaked to certain folks in my field, folks who
didn’t
work for the government. The majority had laughed it off. Admittedly, even I hadn’t taken it seriously. That hadn’t stopped me from formulating The Plan and stocking my house with six months’ worth of supplies, though.