Chapter Thirty-Eight
~Before~
4 Weeks Ago
“Watch your step,” I say. She trips anyway. Over a charred arm, no longer attached to a body. “Like that.”
She straightens herself, smoothing her shirt. Looking around she says, in a wavering voice, “How can you be so calm about all of this?”
“Do we really have any other choice?”
She’s wrong. I’m not calm. Underneath the surface I’m at a near epic level of terror and panic. There are bodies everywhere, like the aftermath of a battle. With every step I search for that red patch. For Paul’s black hair. When I don’t find either I can’t decide if I feel better or worse. Is it better to be alive at this point or dead? As we approach the bridge I’m not sure.
The smoke from the fire billowed for hours, finally settling into a slow burn. The stench is terrible. I have no doubt that the odor has seeped into my skin, my hair…definitely my clothes. It’s as though we’ve become the dead ourselves.
At dusk we left the cab of the truck and picked our way through the debris. Like everything simply getting the three blocks to the bridge proves difficult. Forty-five minutes later we make it. The soles of our shoes gummy with flesh.
“Do you have the map,” Mom asks. We’re hiding in a dark spot, against a tiny wooden shed, viewing the remains of our city. Like our house and neighborhood before it, I have to assume we’ll never see it again. “We head straight from here to the cabin.”
“It will probably take us weeks.” The sticky, bloody guts on the bottom of my shoes are not boosting my optimism.
Her fingers lace through mine. “We can do it and when we finally get there, hopefully your father will be waiting for us.”
The now familiar howl of an Eater bounces off the buildings on the other side of the city. Soon its cry is followed by others and a chill runs up my spine. A noise below catches my attention and I spot an Eater fighting against the current from the river below. He sees or smells us. If there’s one there will be more.
“Come on,” I say pulling her away from the bridge, away from our past and toward the uncertain future.
Chapter Thirty-Nine
~Now~
I wake in a gray room, lying on a bottom bunk. My head feels like lead—had I been clobbered by a brick? The image of the tranq dart sticking out of Cole’s neck lingers in my hazy memory. Cole=LabGuy. My head hurts too much to figure it out. They took us both out and brought us…well, somewhere.
Unable to move I stare above. The metal slats and springs of the upper bed feel too close, especially with the blur of my compromised vision.
“Hey,” I hear and the mattress shifts under me. The springs creak. “You awake?”
Cole sits next to me, peering down with a worried expression. He’s hunched under the upper bunk, relief mixed in with the tension. I struggle to sit. He helps, pushing the pillow behind my back. “Yeah, I guess. God, my head.”
He runs his hand over his face. “Tell me about it.”
“Where are we?” I ask.
“Not sure. Maybe the Air Force base? We weren’t that far away.”
“Why do you think that?”
He stands and points to an emblem on the foot of the bed.
USAF034.
“Right.”
Cole moves to the wall and slides down until he is sitting on the ground. The room is bare, other than two sets of bunks and an empty closet. An open door leads to a small bathroom.
“Does the water run?” I ask.
He nods.
“The power?”
He reaches over his head, straining and pushes the light switch. The bare bulb shines. He turns it off and sits back down.
“So they have electricity and water.” I swing my legs over the edge of the bed and fight a wave of nausea. “You going to tell me what’s going on?”
“They could be listening.”
“I have a feeling they know more than I do. It would be nice to catch up.” From the look on his face my sarcasm is not lost on him.
“I never meant for any of this to happen,” he starts.
“I’m sure no one expected any of this to happen, Cole, but I don’t like being left in the dark, by you or my father. I need you to tell me what you know.”
He frowns, clearly conflicted. I roll my eyes and sigh. This is ridiculous.
I lie back down, my head is about to split. When I’m not looking at him he says, “The E-TR virus was developed as one of the many possible weapons to be used against the War on Terror. Part military—part private contract.”
“The E-TR virus was a weapon? Holy crap.”
“The theory was to infect terrorist cells in isolated areas. Primarily the desert. The US missed some opportunities early on to strike major groups—while they were in transition. They didn’t want that to happen again. They also couldn’t risk using nuclear warfare, so they started pushing bio weapons. One infected person would turn on the others effectively wiping out their entire group.”
“They would spread the virus to one another.”
“Yes and die quickly from the parasite infection. Military personnel would be given a vaccine and survivors an antidote. Your father was brought in to keep track of the process.”
“So my father was working for…”
“Both sides,” he says. “PharmaCorp and the government.”
“Wow.” I thought about the papers I’d seen on his desk. PharmaCorp was definitely mentioned.
“According to him the virus was years from being used in any sort of military project. They’d managed to manipulate the virus for warfare but the antidote was taking more time since the virus mutated easily.”
“We’ve seen that since the outbreaks here—constant changes.”
“Right,” he says nodding. “Originally the virus would just cause a nasty infection and spread easily. The cannibalism took them by surprise and your father insisted that they shut down the program.”
“But…”
“But PharmaCorp had an outside buyer—and they wanted a return on their investment.” Again the worry lines are deep on his forehead.
“Holy crap.”
“As soon the first wave of infection took place in Sudan, the government knew they had to shut it down. They called your dad back in to complete his work on the antidote and vaccine. That’s when he started using you and your mom in the trials.”
I sit up so I can see him better. “Hence the weekly blood tests.”
“Right.” Cole tented his fingers between his knees. “From what I understood he was close to a breakthrough when the non-travel state of emergency happened.”
“When he came to visit me? When you came to my house?” I ask. That day feels like a lifetime ago. I try to recall my kitchen. The way my house smelled like baked goods. My mother.
“Yes, he’d requested two more weeks for trials. He was confident he could work it out by then. His plan was to return home and get you.”
“That never happened.”
“No. I came into the lab and he was gone. The entire facility was wiped clean and surrounded by armed guards. I had twelve hours to gather my things and head to my assigned evacuation center. I picked up Chloe and made my way to the high school.”
“But you didn’t stay?”
“No.” He shook his head. “The day before your dad disappeared he asked me to check on you if anything happened. I think he knew it was coming. What I don’t know is if he left on his own or if they took him somewhere.”
“They?”
He shrugs, his shoulders meeting his ears. “These guys? The military? The CDC? PharmaCorp? I don’t know.”
I study Cole—LabGuy. The man-boy I had flirted with for months. I want to trust him but his story…it’s too easy. “What did you do for my dad? Lab assistant or something?”
“Like I told you before, I am in med school, but what I didn’t tell you was I did a volunteer stint with the Peace Corps in Africa during the Ebola outbreak. Your father found out about my experience and added me to his team.”
“How much do you know about this cure?”
“Not much,” he admits. “Your father was very secretive about his work. It’s not like I had clearance.”
“That’s an understatement.”
Neither of us speaks. I try to absorb the information he’s shared and not freak out about my dad. It’s no different than what I’ve suspected. Simply confirmed. He’s either dead, in hiding or being hidden. None of it helps at all.
I ask the question I can’t get past. “What do these guys want with me?”
“I guess they think you and I both know something.”
“Well they’re SOL with that one. He never told me anything.”
Cole opens his mouth to speak but seems to think better of it. He glances around and finally silently points to me and then to his chest. The pouch. The blood and the data. No, my father never told me anything but he left information with me. Information Cole knew about. This was getting weird.
I swallow. “If we work with these guys can we help people? Can we stop the Eaters? Knowing my father it would have been his ultimate goal. He would have sacrificed everything to stop this and save people.”
“I don’t know. I haven’t seen any sign of the epidemic slowing, have you? Why wouldn’t Dr. Ramsey have given them the cure by now?
I think of the burning bus. The way the military divided the people and then murdered half of them. Would that be necessary if they had a cure? A vaccine of some kind?
“If they had my father they wouldn’t need me,” I say, aware that this may be the truth about him. They wouldn’t need me if he was alive.
***
Cole and I wait in the room for hours. My body, unused to being so still, can’t help but seek recovery. I sleep, stupidly, but life has come to this. You sleep while you can, even if you don’t trust the one you’re with.
I’m pissed at Cole. He put us both at risk. He should have come to my house immediately when my father went missing. He should have told me about the tracker and information immediately. How do I even know he’s telling the truth now?
The lock unbolts with a loud clink and I lurch to a sitting position, banging my head on the top bunk. Cole hasn’t moved from his spot on the floor. No surprise really. He’s a doctor—or a wannabe doctor, not a fighter like Wyatt.
God, Wyatt. He’s probably halfway to Georgia by now. With the truck and the pouch of information I’d foolishly shoved under the seat. The odds are good that I’ll never see it or the truck again. I glance at Cole, at his blond shaggy hair and a narrow sharp jaw. I wonder if Chloe will come back for him. The idea of Wyatt ditching her pleases me, which is just so, so dumb.
A second bolt moves and we both hop to our feet. My hand moves to my belt, feeling for the butt of my hatchet but of course it’s gone. Either left at the campground or they took it somewhere in this facility. From the corner of my eye, I see Cole’s hands ball into tight, useless fists.
The door opens and a woman in fatigues walks in carrying a green plastic tray. Her bright red hair tied in a tight knot at the base of her neck, the rest of her head encased in a camouflaged cap. She stops three feet away and I can see the smattering of freckles on her nose. She’s young-ish. Probably around Cole’s age.
The waft of food—cooked food—hits my senses and I look at the tray. Fried chicken and mashed potatoes…there’s even something green. Beans maybe. My mouth waters on cue.
She holds out the tray and Cole and I glance at one another. Do we take it? Hell yes, we take it. I can’t figure out how to get out of here if I’m starving to death.
“Thank you,” I say out of habit.
The tag on her chest says Walker. She ignores me and walks out of the room, the same shifting click of the lock a distinct reminder we’re captive.
“Guess they want us alive, huh?” Cole says handing me my plate.
I shove a plastic sporkful of potatoes in my mouth and try not to cry. From the food, from what this all means, at the overwhelming idea of trying to get out of here and most of all, the fact I’m trapped with a freaking traitor.
***
Walker returns two hours later to collect our licked clean plates. This time I say, “Why are we here? Can we talk to someone? Where are we?”
Again she’s silent and avoids eye contact. I spot the black handle of a firearm holstered at her side. “Seriously though,” I try again. “We’re just going to sit here?”
She moves to the door and opens it, conversing quickly with someone on the other side. Between the gun and the backup in the hallway it’s clear they don’t trust us. But why? I’m an eighteen year old girl with a Peace Corp volunteering doctor guy. Sure he’s good with a crossbow but without it I don’t see there being a huge problem.
Walker turns back to us with a bundle of green cloth in her hands. A small box sits on top and with a wrinkle of her nose, she says, “Feel free to take a shower and change.
“What if we refuse to?” Cole asks.
“Your loss.” She shrugs. “But they won’t let you out of here until you’ve cleaned up.”
She leaves again and we stare at the clothing and towels. Cole opens the box and finds shampoo and hygiene supplies. He opens a bottle and sniffs it. The room fills with a sweet floral scent. Like the food, it seems stupid to waste an opportunity to shower.
“Here,” he says handing me the smaller bundle and the box.
“No you go.”
“I’m offering,” he says.
“I don’t want to.” God, I really want to take a shower, but I’ve had time to think and I don’t like the wormhole I traveled down.
He holds out the bundle again. I don’t take it. I just stand across from him, arms across my chest. Cole frowns. “What’s going on?”
“Just because we’re in this room together doesn’t mean we’re on the same side.”
The frown deepens, his eyebrows basically furrowing together. “We’re not?”
I shake my head. “No.”
“How did you come to that decision?”
“Because you lied to me, Cole. Like, I knew you…I had a nickname for you. You’ve been in my
house
. You’ve handled my fluids. In the post-apocalyptic world, we’re basically family and even through all of that, you lied to me. And that lie ended up with me here, locked up like a prisoner, unable to complete my father’s last request.”
My voice is shaking by the end. I’d been unaware how angry I really was. How scared. Maybe I wouldn’t be if I hadn’t seen these people blow up a school bus filled with people, but I did. That image, the smell, would never leave my mind.
“You led them right to me,” I say. “To the information. Why the hell didn’t you tell me about the tracker in my arm? Why didn’t you identify yourself when we first met back at the lake?”
“I can explain if you want me to.”
“Does it matter? Will it change anything?” I ask rolling my eyes. “It wasn’t just me this affected. My mom and Wyatt and even Chloe.”
“She wouldn’t go to the center on her own. I tried.”
He looks like he’s been hit by a blow and from the resigned look on his face I know he has no real defense. I snatch the bundle and box of cleaning products from him. “I’ll go first and you better watch my back,” I tell him. “I don’t trust you, but you owe me this much.”
He nods. “I’ve got your back.”
I roll my eyes and walk away. “Sure you do.”