"It's Jo!" he cried. "She's—"
"What is it, my dear boy?" Dr. Siegel said, embracing him. "What has happened to Jo?"
"Oh, God!" He buried his face in her breast and wept.
The others began to gather around them, astonished that Alex could break down like this. Elvin shushed them to silence, as Siegel talked to Alex. "Alex, tell us what happened."
"A colloid," Alex said. "She's infected."
Siegel looked at him skeptically. "There was no sign of infection."
"No, it's something new. An infection that hides in the brain, controlling her. I saw . . . " He covered his face with his hands.
"What, Alex? What did you see?"
"A colloid, its pseudopod entering her ear. Communicating with the one inside her."
"How do you know?"
"I know. She's been different these past few weeks. The thing has been inside her."
"But the colloids eat away at a person. There is a noticeable physical change."
He grabbed her by the shoulders, looking deep into her eyes. "Don't you get it, Claire? They've learned how to do it without showing themselves."
"It's impossible." But Siegel looked frightened.
"But that's what they've done. They've adapted, developed this new capability to get at the last few survivors, to get at us."
Elvin stared at him with his sleepy eyes. "You mean Jo is one of
them
now?"
"I don't know." Alex slumped against the wall. "She might not even know what she's doing. But she led Flash right into a swarm of colloids."
"Jesus, Mary, and Joseph," Polly muttered.
"Then Flash is dead," said Siegel. "Is that what you're saying, Alex?"
"Yes, he's dead. I shot him myself."
Everyone was silent now. There was no need for an explanation. They understood what Alex meant, when he said that he had killed Flash. They had all seen people devoured by mature colloids.
"Jo led Flash into a trap?" a woman said. "Didn't I hear you say that?"
In utter misery, Alex nodded. "Yeah."
"She
was
pretty anxious to leave here tonight," said Irv. "It seemed kind of funny that she would volunteer, the way she's been acting."
"I thought I was the only one who noticed that," Alex said.
"Well, once you left, we couldn't help talking about why you went out after them. We knew it couldn't be Flash you were suspicious of."
"How do we know what he's saying is true?" Elvin asked. "Maybe something else happened, and Alex doesn't want us to know about it. Maybe he killed both of them."
"Right," Riquelme said. "And rather than just let things be, he comes back here and announces that Flash is dead and Jo is infected. Sure."
"Why was he so suspicious of them in the first place?"
"Don't you remember what happened this morning? Jo fired a shot, warning the infected that we were attacking," said Riquelme, his dark face showing anger. "That seems like a pretty good reason for him to be suspicious."
Nobody argued with that. Seeing that Alex had brought something back with him, a man opened the sack. "Canned goods," he said. "And lots of 'em."
"Never mind that," Alex said. "We've got to do something."
"What can we do?" Siegel asked. "She is lost."
They didn't understand. No, how could they? He loved Jo, far more than he had ever realized. He could have killed her back at the hideout, but he hadn't been able to bring himself to do it. Now she would be one of the infected. But maybe Siegel was right. Maybe she was already dead.
"Come, Alex," Siegel said. "Maybe Jo is better off now. At least she won't suffer."
"No." This was all wrong. "She's not dead yet. I shouldn't have left her."
"You couldn't help her," said Riquelme. "I've seen it a thousand times."
"I've got to do something!" Alex screamed at them. "I never ran away like this before. I've got to do something!" He sprinted to the room where the napalm was stored. He unlocked the bin and lifted out one of the smaller napalm B canisters. It was heavy, but he would manage to carry it up and drop it out on the vile things that lurked outside. He wanted to see them burn. To hear their screams.
But he didn't. Instead, he fell to his knees and wept uncontrollably. "Jo," he said, over and over again. "Jo, I love you. Don't leave me."
He cried for a long time, until he felt a hand on his shoulder. It was Claire.
"Alex," she said. "I'm sorry."
"I thought I was ready for this. My wife and son . . . I didn't think anything could hurt me like this again."
"You're still human. That's not a bad thing."
Alex wiped his eyes with the back of his hand. "In this world, maybe it is a bad thing. It was different before the colloids came. We could afford human emotions then, but not now."
"Alex, don't."
He stood and faced her. "I won't waste this napalm. Better to save it for a time when I can do some real damage." He was under control now. Hearing Claire speak rationally helped, especially knowing that she had been in a schizoid state earlier today. They had to go on, no matter what happened. This was war, and you couldn't lose your head.
Stooping, he picked up the canister and set it back inside the bin.
A commotion was starting up on the second floor. Alex and Siegel went to see what it was. A crowd had gathered by the Cuthbert Street door.
Alex pushed through the gathered guerrillas. Elvin stood by the door, a frightened look on his face.
"Somebody's out there," he said. "Somebody who wants to get in."
Alex pointed the Ingram at the door. "Open it."
Riquelme opened the door. A lone figure stood silhouetted on the fire escape, the moonlight at her back. She stepped inside.
Nobody spoke.
The door slammed behind Jo. She looked around her and said, "Flash is dead."
Alex wasn't sure how long he stared at her. Gradually, the realization came that he was gaping. This couldn't be. He had seen her violated by a colloid. She couldn't be standing here talking to him like this. This just wasn't right.
"I couldn't help him," Jo said. "I managed to get to the hideout. I stayed there until I was sure nobody was around, and then I came back. The long way around."
"Is that all that happened, Jo?" Siegel asked.
She turned to the older woman. "What do you mean?"
Siegel said nothing. She seemed to go off on one of her schizoid fits again, perhaps set off by this inexplicable incident. She wandered off into the armory's shadows without speaking.
"Jo," Riquelme said, stepping toward her and extending his palms. "What Siegel meant . . . "
"Take her gun!" Alex ordered, cutting him short. He pointed the Ingram directly at Jo. "Elvin, take it!"
Elvin looked frightened and confused, but he did as he was told.
"What do you think you're doing, Alex?" Jo directed a withering glance at Alex.
"I'm making sure you're not armed," Alex said. "You see, I followed you tonight."
Jo showed nothing. Her cold stare transfixed Alex, made him feel weak. "Why did you follow us? Did you think we weren't up to the job? You could have gone yourself, you know."
"I just had a hunch," Alex said.
"A hunch?" Jo snarled.
"I saw you." In spite of the chill, he was sweating. "In the hideout. In our bed."
She didn't even blink. "After they got Flash, I ran into the hideout, sure. I thought they might not find me in the dark, so I hid on our mattress behind the curtain. If you saw me, why didn't you say something, Alex? What's wrong with you?"
He felt the others' doubts as if they were palpable, as she twisted things around. But he had to think about what he was doing. What had he really seen behind that curtain an hour ago? Only the kerosene lamp had lit the scene, and even that light had been obstructed by the curtain. Was it possible that he had only
imagined
the colloid there?
"No, it won't work, Jo. I know what you are." But there must have been some doubt, some hesitation in his voice. She gave no ground.
"Alex, are you going to let our personal problems stand in the way of your leadership? You've been acting so distant lately. I thought it was because you were planning the raid, but this . . . "
The words came out of him, slowly, deliberately: "I saw a colloid crawl inside you."
"What?" But her defiant tone didn't work. The guerrillas could take no chances. "Who ever heard of an infected person getting up and coming home, talking to people like I'm doing?"
"It must be a new stage. They've been studying the human body, analyzing their victims." It was Siegel, trying to come to grips with this new problem, and with her madness at the same time. "They've learned how to manipulate the entire organism."
"Prove it," Jo snapped.
"We don't have to, Jo. We know Alex well enough to believe he saw something."
"Take her into that room," Alex pointed at an office across the hall. "I want an armed guard with her at all times."
"Have you lost your goddamned mind?" Jo shouted. But she followed her captors without a struggle. As soon as she was under lock and key, Alex said. "I know what I saw."
Siegel nodded. "They've got her, all right. I can sense it, too." She gestured for him to follow her. "Come, Alex."
He was grateful for this, even if Claire Siegel's perceptions could not always be trusted. There was an alien organism in control of Jo's body, manipulating her nervous system, her mind. But what could he do about it? He rubbed his temples, trying to fend off the headache that had been building, as they walked to the C.O.'s office in the south wing of the armory.
"When the colloid was inside her," Siegel said, "it must have absorbed information about our fortifications."
"Yeah, we can expect some sort of attack soon." Alex slumped into a swivel chair. "They know we're organizing people into an active resistance."
"They can't ignore us."
"Christ, why did it have to be Jo?" Alex buried his face in his hands. "I love her."
"It might not be final, Alex."
"What?" He looked up at her sharply.
"If this is a different sort of infection, as we suspect, there might be a way to fight it."
"How?"
"Well, we have some drugs back at the hideout."
"First aid stuff. What good is that?"
Dr. Siegel smiled. "There's more than iodine and Ace bandages in those first aid kits."
"Huh?"
"Your friend Victor had some recreational drugs in his possession, too."
"I don't understand how that's going to help us."
"Hear me out."
Alex shrugged. What did he have to lose? Some cockamamie theory wasn't going to change things. Jo was still infected, controlled by some virus created in a lab, or a mutation that had run wild, or . . . ?
"Have you noticed a common trait among all the survivors in our little group?" Siegel asked.
"No. We're of varying ages, men and women from different social and economic backgrounds. I don't see any common ground at all."
"There is one thing. Jo was the only exception."
"I still don't see what you're talking about."
"Every one of us has had some severe pyschological illness. I have been treated for schizophrenia. Many of the others are street people, who suffer from the same disorder. You have been diagnosed with a bipolar disorder. Flash was an addict. Do you see what this might mean?"
Alex thought he did. He remembered what Elvin had said the night he almost stepped in a colloid, about not being meat choice enough for infection. But he said nothing, permitting Siegel to go on.
"I believe that the virus enters a human body and seeks out the nervous system, an electro-biological network where it can thrive. If it finds an imperfect network, it cannot grow. Perhaps it leaves its inhospitable human host then, or perhaps it simply languishes and dies. Whatever happens to it, we have reason to believe that it can't dominate the neurologically damaged host."
"You're saying that even if we're infected, the virus can't hurt us."
"Right." Siegel smiled at him.
Alex leaned forward. "But if your theory is correct, it won't help Jo. She's already infected."
"True, but the infection has not corroded her nervous system as yet."
"How can we be sure of that?"
"If that were the case, she would not be able to act as she has. The virus has infiltrated the gyri of her brain that control behavior, but thus far it is
only
manipulating her. She may not even be aware of it."
"Is that possible?"
"Sure. As you said earlier, this is a new phase. The colloids have refined their puppetry skills. Those poor, decaying souls stumbling around out on the street are to Jo what heavy metal rock is to a Mozart symphony. I don't even mean that as a value judgment, just an analogy comparing the levels of complexity and sophistication."
"But why did they target Jo?"
"We can't be sure that they did, Alex. But, on the other hand, we cannot dismiss the possibility, either."
"Another thing I can't get out of my mind. If Jo's not neurologically damaged, how did she go for so long without becoming infected?"
"There are bound to be a few survirvors who haven't suffered from mental illness. Perhaps a severe neurosis is a partial deterrent . . . or perhaps the virus is building up an immunity to irregular nervous systems."
Alex cringed. If that was the case, there was no hope for any of them. Something had to be done—right away.
"What do you think the drugs can do to help Jo?"
"Induce an artificial schizophrenia. It might drive the virus out, or even kill it."
"And if it doesn't work?"
"We will have to . . . to think of something else."
"We'll have to kill her," Alex said, his voice barely above a whisper. "That's what you mean, isn't it?"
"Yes, that is probably the only alternative."
Alex felt as though he were paralyzed. There was only the slimmest chance that Jo could be saved. He had to do something, though. He couldn't just let her be eaten slowly by a colloid. But there was one other thing that troubled him.