Whimper (30 page)

Brianna stared at me. “Okay. Good plan. I have information to send with them too. Elliott’s notes have to be made available to other scientists who can help. He doesn’t have to hide any more. I want to make sure the world knows he isn’t the one who has been spreading this virus and that he gave them the tools to fight it.”

“Don’t talk about him in past tense,” I protested. “It isn’t over yet. We’re going to find a way to get to him. Somehow.”

Plastic. The chemical smell of plastic was overwhelming. I was cold too, but I’d grown accustomed to being cold. The stench of the plastic was new. It was like being wrapped up inside a cheap inflatable pool. My nose wrinkled, and I turned my head, trying to escape the smell. What the hell was that? My head felt like it was stuffed with cotton. Gradually I forced my eyes open, though they fought me. The light was almost as bad as the stench.

“Zoe?” I whispered through dry lips. The only sound was a strange whooshing somewhere nearby. My eyes began to adjust to the light, shapes slowly emerging from the foggy white brightness. Shiny plastic, frosted over with humidity, hung above my head only inches from my face. My breath began to come faster as claustrophobia set in.

I tried to sit up so I could push the tent away from my face, but a fabric band stretched across my chest and arms. It held me pinned to the bed. I began to struggle against it, trying to push myself up, but my legs were bound as well. Where the hell was I? Where was Zoe?

I threw myself back and forth, rocking from side to side trying to loosen my bonds. A loud beeping started up somewhere in the room. Someone might be coming to stop me any moment. I pumped my legs and pushed with my chest as hard as I possibly could, earning a slight scratchy sound from the Velcro attachments. I thrashed even more, frantic to get one of them loose and free myself from this bed.

The door clicked open, and I heard the sharp click of heels on tile approaching me. I froze, not wanting to lose the small degree of movement I’d earned. Either they wouldn’t notice, or they’d have to undo the binding in order to tighten it again. Either way, I may be able to fight myself free. The footsteps stopped and the beeping silenced. The slow buzz of a zipper being undone started somewhere above my head, and the misty panel began to fall open.

“Mr. Carter?” a female voice asked hesitantly, “Are you awake now?”

I savored the cool, fresh air as it flooded in the opening in the plastic, sucking in air greedily. “I’m awake. Where am I? Who are you?” I asked suspiciously.

“You’re in the hospital. I’m your nurse, Mary. You’ve been unconscious for many hours. I understand it’s a shock, waking up like this, but we had to make certain you wouldn’t injure yourself or someone else. If you can keep yourself calm, I’ll take the tent off your bed,” she replied as she continued to unzip the giant plastic bag.

“I’m calm. Please remove the restraints now,” I replied, forcing myself to keep my voice as polite as I could manage under the circumstances.

“Oh, I’m afraid I can’t do that just yet.” The nurse clucked sympathetically. “You have to be under observation for a while first. I can get you some water or juice if you’re thirsty?”

I was thirsty, but I wanted to find Zoe and get the hell out of here. I wasn’t even wearing my own clothes. “How many hours have I been here?” I demanded.

The nurse glanced at the watch on her wrist. “You’ve been here about four hours now, hon. You were unconscious when you got here.”

Obviously! “I was unconscious because of a drug, not because of my viral infection. I’m not going to start attacking everyone,” I protested.

“Well, forgive me if I don’t take your word for it,” the nurse replied dryly. She finished taking the supporting poles down from the sides of the bed.

“I’d like to hear more about this drug actually,” a familiar voice boomed from the doorway.

My hands clenched into fists as a man with silver hair and a cardigan sweater and slacks stepped into the room. He looked like Mr. Rogers, but behind the façade lurked something cold and Machiavellian.

“Well, hello, Archie. I figured you’d be safely in Atlanta, orchestrating this from afar,” I sneered. His eye twitched at my use of the familiarity, but otherwise his face remained impassive. Archibald Simon-Shipley III was a master of maintaining a professional public appearance.

“I had to come here to clean up this mess you’ve made of things, Elliott. You’ve gone to such extremes to disguise your own failures. It’s a real shame you had to drag the public into it.” He shook his head woefully, but I could see the gleeful sparkle in his eyes.

“I followed this outbreak here. Your minions were here well before I was,” I responded, my jaw tight. He was baiting me, trying to get me to lose my temper. Maybe if I freaked out, he’d have me put down like a rabid dog.

My former mentor smirked, shaking his head. I was amusing him. “Nurse, why don’t you go get Elliott a liquid tray. I’m sure he’s working up a hunger after all that thrashing around.”

She nodded and walked briskly out of the room, while he said a few words to someone outside and then shut the door.

“I underestimated you, Elliott. I see that now. I should have brought you in on this agenda long ago. Perhaps then we could have avoided all the drama.” He flicked his wrist, dismissing everything I had sacrificed to stop him.

“Drama?” I asked hoarsely. “Is that all you think this is?”

He smiled, an expression devoid of any warmth. “This agenda has been in play for fifty years. If ever a time came when the stability of the government was endangered by its own populace, steps could be taken to control the unstable elements without resorting to violence. Civil wars are messy, but national emergencies? Well, the people turn to their government for help, don’t they?”

I spluttered, unable to process that this was the explanation behind the treachery I’d been fighting. “You’re going to kill an entire generation, maybe more, because you think it’ll make the political situation better?”

“As I said, I inherited the plan, but you must admit, your generation has been increasingly difficult. They demand more and more government spending, loans and grants and public welfare, unemployment. Yet, they drain more than they replace in taxes. Then there are the riots, the looting, the acts of violence in the name of entertainment. Can you deny that the older generations fear you?”

I stared, not bothering to argue for my generation. Anyone
sane
knew that the sins of a few should never condemn an entire group. “So you think that if I had known of this plan, then I wouldn’t have tried to stop it?”

“You are the reason it has come together so beautifully. The original plan was to orchestrate a Spanish Influenza outbreak at strategic locales. Unfortunately, there’s no way of targeting specific ages so it would have been more destructive than was deemed wise. Then, you discovered your perfect, dead virus and brought it to us. Targeted properly, it will achieve all our goals. But, I understand you’ve taken it one step further. Tell me about these drugs you’ve developed. I find I am very intrigued by them.” He moved closer to my bed, bending slightly to look at me. “It is remarkable. I’m amazed you’ve managed to fend off the infection for so long.”

I jerked my face away from him, feeling dirtied by his inspection. “How long do you have without those medications, I wonder?”

Hours
, I thought. Maybe a day if I was very lucky. Instead, I bluffed. “Oh, I’m cured. Haven’t you seen Amie? She must have told you I have a cure.”

Archie scoffed, a grin spreading across his tan face. “I have seen Amie. She’s no more cured than you are. Which means that both of you are going to be needing those meds very soon. I have the resources to make them for you. You have the formulas. I see no reason we can’t work together, Elliott.”

“And what will you use them for? How does it benefit your agenda for there to be a treatment?” I demanded, my nostrils flaring in revulsion.

“Control, my dear boy. With your medication and your virus, we can pick and choose who succumbs to the disease and who is spared. Those who are beneficial, law abiding members of the populace can be treated. People like your friends, or your sister. Don’t forget about her. I certainly haven’t.” He patted the restraint across my legs tenderly, like a grandfather would a sick child, as a knock sounded at the door.

“Come in,” he called as he turned away. The nurse came in carrying a tray loaded with gelatin cups, juices, and broth. “Think on it, Elliott. But not too long, of course. I’ll be back to check on you in a bit.”

He slithered to the doorway as I fumed. I had once looked up to him, respected him. I’d gone to him for advice! No wonder he’d been so excited about my ideas. I was building him a weapon without ever knowing.

“Who makes the decisions?” I called after him. “How far up does this agenda go?” I could barely conceal the hatred in my voice, but I don’t think he cared. Perhaps that’s what made it fun for him.

“Why, all the way, of course. I wouldn’t dream of making such important decisions without the proper approval,” he said from the doorway with a wink.
 

I slammed my head back against the foam mattress. He
might
go after Brianna if I didn’t help, but he’d absolutely allow me to die. I’d already gifted him the virus, could I hand over the medications knowing they’d be used to enslave untold numbers of people? Don’t like what the President is doing in the Middle East? No pills for you today. We’ll see how you feel about it tomorrow.

“You must be someone rather important for the Director to be visiting you himself.” The nurse smiled as she wheeled over a cart with my tray on it. “We’re feeling quite fortunate to have him here, paying such close attention to the outbreak. It’s reassuring,” she said as she looked over my chart. “Now, I see he has you down to receive IV fluids. Why don’t you start on your tray and I’ll get that set up.”

“I can’t,” I reminded her, wiggling my shoulders. “I’m a bit tied up. Can I talk you into giving me one hand? At least that way I can eat my Jello.” I smiled, pouring on the charm.

She smiled, stuck a straw in the cup and moved the table under my chin as she raised the bed. Damn it!

“I’ll be right back,” she answered cheerily. I pushed the tray away with my chin. I should take fluids, but I wouldn’t put it past Simon-Shipley to put something in it to hasten my condition.

No. I wouldn’t drink any of this and I’d refuse my IV. As long as I was conscious, it’d be unlikely they’d give me any treatment without my consent. He’d want the appearance of propriety at the very least.

I parked the van as close to one of the tunnel access doors as I could manage. The landscaping made it challenging—all the stupid decorative rocks got in the way—but I found a path. Brianna and I sat in the van for a few minutes listening for the tell tale sounds of pursuit. We hadn’t seen any movement on the way here, only the occasional corpse.

“Maybe there aren’t any more?” I asked hopefully. “I think we’ve seen the burn out of the first wave, the people they infected with the vaccines. Anyone who was infected after is probably still out there. It will be staggered now and far fewer. Unless one broke into a lecture hall or something where people were holed up together.”

“Or, say…maintenance tunnels?” I muttered as I released my door lock and climbed out. The moonlight glinted off the metal sliver in my hand, the key they’d given us yesterday. The key slid in and turned with a smooth click. Of course, everything works when nothing is chasing you!

The stairwell was dark and empty. Brianna and I carried a few things in our bags, but most of the supplies I left locked inside the van. Once we shut ourselves inside the cool, quiet space, I pocketed the key and clicked on my flashlight. Nothing rushed up at us from the darkness, but I couldn’t force myself to relax yet. “Here, you shine this ahead of us. Pan back and forth until we make it to the lighted section.” Brianna holding the flashlight allowed me to use both hands on my gun, something that did soothe my nerves slightly.