by Dirk Patton
37
“They should be here by now,” I said.
I was watching as Rachel replaced my IV bag with a fresh one. I didn’t like the expression on her face when she worked.
“They need to hurry,” she said without looking at me.
I lay there trying to think of any way to contact them, but nothing was presenting itself as a solution. The only good news was that Mavis had fallen asleep after reading several chapters to me. If I hadn’t been terrified of what Rachel was going to go through giving birth before, I sure as hell was after the graphic descriptions in the goddamn book.
Turning my head to the side, I looked into Dog’s eyes. His chin was on my shoulder and he was staring at me. It had to be uncomfortable after so long, but Mavis’s head was pillowed on his side and he wasn’t moving. So, neither was I. If I woke her up, she’d probably start reading to me again.
Frustration churned inside me as I continued to try and come up with a plan. But nothing seemed like a good idea.
“Joe,” I said to get his attention when a new idea occurred to me.
The Russian he was guarding was stretched on the deck, snoring away, so Joe had relaxed. He was zoned out, staring at a point between his feet and didn’t respond.
“Joe!”
He startled and raised his head, looking around in annoyance.
“What?”
I took a breath, prepared for an argument from Rachel.
“The cure. Can you reverse it?”
He looked at me in incomprehension for a beat, then his eyes opened wide. I could tell Rachel had stopped what she was doing and was also looking at me in shock.
“Reverse it?”
“Oh no you don’t!” Rachel said quickly, shooting Joe a warning look.
“Joe?” I prompted, ignoring her protest.
“Even if it’s possible, there’s no way in hell I’m letting him do it,” Rachel said, glaring down at me. “We have no idea what a reinfection might do to you. What if this time you turned into a full blown infected? What then?”
I met her eyes and saw her fear and determination.
“If the Marines were coming, they should be here by now. We know Viktoriya is coming, we just have no idea how soon she’ll be knocking on our door. We can’t keep sitting on our asses, waiting for help that’s probably not going to arrive.”
I could see that my point had gotten through. She might not like what I was proposing, but she could at least recognize the reasoning behind it.
“I don’t like it either,” I said after a few moment’s silence. “So, if you’ve got a better idea to get us out of this, now’s the time.”
After a long stretch, Rachel lowered her gaze and shook her head. I turned back to face Joe.
“Well?”
“I can’t reverse the cure,” he said. “It doesn’t work that way. To do what you’re proposing would require reintroduction of the virus into your body. But I don’t think it will work.”
“Why not?” I asked, trying to conceal the suspicion I was feeling.
“Because you’ve just been cured. The virus has been eradicated from your system, and your immune system is on high alert to prevent another infection.”
I stared at him then turned to Rachel. She nodded in agreement with what he’d just said.
“Is there a risk in trying? What’s the worst that could happen? My body fights it off and nothing changes?”
“Or it overwhelms your immune system and this time you become fully infected, like Rachel suggested. Or, your body has had more than it can handle and it kills you. This is uncharted territory. I can’t even make a guess.”
Taking a deep breath, I blew it out in a sigh of frustration.
“Then give me an option. An alternative. We keep sitting here, Viktoriya is going to find us.”
“It’s all academic, anyway,” Joe said. “It’s not like I carry the virus around with me. I brought along the cure because we didn’t know what was wrong with you, but that’s it.”
The relief on Rachel’s face was immediate, but I wasn’t so happy. Don’t misunderstand. I didn’t particularly want to become infected again, even though I’d enjoyed the enhanced strength and stamina that came along with it.
“Then give me something to get me on my feet. You’ve gotta have something that’ll do the trick.”
Joe slowly shook his head and I turned to Rachel who did the same.
“Fuck,” I muttered.
They both looked away, Rachel fussing with the IV bag and Joe resuming his examination of the floor. I seethed, but it wasn’t their fault. If there was anyone to blame, it was Viktoriya, but she had only taken advantage of the circumstances created by Barinov. He was the one, true villain in all of this. The one who I dreamed about crushing his skull like a melon with my bare hands.
A muted ding pulled me out of my thoughts and I watched Joe move stiffly to a piece of equipment and press a button. A long strip of paper slowly unfurled from a slot on the front. He watched it as more test results were printed, tearing it free when it stopped advancing.
Joe read quickly, then I could see him pause and start over. Looking to the machine, he pressed several buttons and checked something that seemed to satisfy him. Sitting back, he read again before calling Rachel over. She took the long strip of paper, read it twice and looked at him with a deep frown.
“You sure this is right?”
“Double checked the settings and had it run a diagnostic. Equipment checks out.”
She glanced at the machine, then read the results for a third time.
“You ever seen this?”
Joe nodded, and by that time I’d had enough.
“My test?”
“The ones who didn’t survive?” Rachel asked, ignoring me.
Joe nodded again.
“What the fuck’s going on?” I asked a little louder.
Rachel turned back to the paper as Joe looked at me.
“Remember when you decided to try the cure on your wife when we were at Groom Lake and I told you the different results we’d had in testing?”
I nodded, a feeling of impending doom settling over me.
“Yeah. Some people recovered, some didn’t. Katie was one of them that didn’t.”
“Right. And there was also a small percentage that didn’t survive.”
I stared as realization dawned.
“Your body’s failing,” Joe said. “Your liver has stopped functioning and your kidneys aren’t far behind. Nothing looks good. You’re close to a complete organ shutdown.”
38
When Joe’s words sank in, I shot a look at Mavis. Thankfully she was still fast asleep and hadn’t heard the dire news. Returning my attention to Joe, I opened my mouth but no words came out. Taking a couple of breaths, I tried again.
“I’m going to die?”
“No!” Rachel said emphatically.
The look Joe gave her told me the truth.
“How long?” I asked.
“Hard to say,” he said softly. “Your body’s already stressed from the cure fighting off the virus. The liver is vital in filtering your blood, especially in this case. Without it... well...”
My gaze shifted to Rachel and seeing the fear on her face and tears in her eyes didn’t inspire hope.
“How long?” I asked again, unable to think about anything other than when I was going to die.
“A day. If you’re lucky,” he finally said.
Unable to process the thought, all I could do was look at them.
“Maybe it’s a bad result,” Rachel suddenly blurted. “Run it again!”
“Already am,” Joe said. “I had enough blood to retest. But his symptoms---”
“Fuck the symptoms! He’s not going to die!”
Joe looked away, unable to meet her eyes.
“Rachel,” I said, but she wouldn’t look at me.
“His idea. Re-infection. Could it jump start his organs?”
Joe looked at her
helplessly, his hands held out with the palms up.
“I don’t know,” he said. “I honestly don’t know. But we still have the problem of no virus to infect him with.”
Rachel’s jaw clenched in frustration. She turned to me then quickly looked away before she completely lost her composure. Staring out one of the windows, I saw her back stiffen an instant before she spun to face Joe.
“If you had an infected’s blood, do you have the gear you need to synthesize a viral serum?”
“If I had an infected’s... what?”
“Goddamn it, Joe!” she shouted. “Do you or don’t you?”
Mavis woke when Rachel yelled, sitting up and looking around as she rubbed sleep from her eyes. Dog took advantage of the moment to stand, shake, turn a circle and lay down in a new spot. His ears were at full mast as he alertly watched Rachel.
“What’s wrong?” Mavis asked, her voice thick with sleep.
“Well?” Rachel asked, glaring at Joe with her hands on her hips.
He couldn’t hold her stare, looking down at his equipment then at a bulging duffel bag that hadn’t been opened.
“Yes. I could do that with what I’ve got. But where the hell are you going to get infected blood?”
Rachel didn’t answer, just grabbed up a vest and slipped it on over her head. She quickly started loading full magazines into it.
“What’s going on?” Mavis asked, turning to me.
“Rachel, don’t do this,” I said.
She ignored me.
“Do what?” Mavis asked, fear creeping into her voice.
Rachel snatched up a rifle, expertly checked it for readiness and worked the sling over her shoulders. Joe had anticipated what she’d want and held out a plastic bag that held a large syringe. Rachel took it and stuffed it into one of her cargo pockets.
“Rachel! Do not go out there!” I shouted.
She turned to look at me and I could see the fear had been replaced with determination. Kneeling, she leaned in and kissed me.
“I love you,” she said softly.
Kissing me again, she looked at Mavis and gently touched her face for a moment before standing and striding to the front of the cabin. Kicking the Russian until he woke up, she barked at him to open the exterior door.
“What’s happening? Where’s she going?” Mavis asked, her voice pitched high with worry.
“Rachel, goddamn it! Stop!”
She ignored me. With a sigh, I looked to the side.
“Dog, go with her,” I said rather than answer Mavis.
He jumped to his feet, leapt over me with ease and ran to Rachel’s side. She waited impatiently as the pilot fumbled with the door’s release.
“What’s wrong?”
Mavis was starting to panic, but I couldn’t take my attention off Rachel. A moment later the door swung open and the air-stairs extended to the ground. Dog disappeared out of the opening, but Rachel paused and snatched a pair of sunglasses out of the pilot’s shirt pocket. Before she slipped them on, she turned to me as if she were going to say something. Our eyes locked and held for an instant, then she stepped outside without a word and the Russian was re-securing the door.
With tears streaming down her face, Mavis looked at me. She was frightened and upset and needed some comforting. As badly as I wanted to wrap her into a hug, I couldn’t raise my arms.
“It’s okay,” I said. “Lay down next to me and I’ll tell you what’s going on.”
She hesitated a moment then snuggled in against my side and threw a small arm across my chest. Glancing at Joe, I saw the sadness in his eyes and had to look away before I started getting emotional. If it was my time, well, I’d been beating the odds for a while.
What truly hurt was the thought of the family I’d built suddenly being alone. Rachel was strong and though it would be hard, she’d survive. Mavis, though. Mavis had already been through enough in her short life. She didn’t deserve this.
“I need you to listen carefully,” I began.
39
Igor stared at his trembling hands, gulping air to battle the pain coursing through him. The piece of spring steel may have been sharp enough to easily slice the outer layers of his skin but cutting through the tough connective tissue at the base of his thumb was another matter. He’d been working for nearly twenty minutes and while he’d reached the point of no return, he still had more than half-way to go.
Blood ran thickly, slicking the length of metal and making his task even more difficult. Breathing deeply, he steeled himself for what was to come and pressed the edge into the raw flesh and began moving it in a sawing manner. Pain blossomed anew but he made no sound beyond his labored breathing.
Counting the seconds in his head no longer provided any distraction or relief from the horror of his situation, so when the joint finally parted he had no idea how long it had taken. Dizzy from the excruciating pain, he stared numbly. His thumb dangled from the side of his hand by a few shreds of flesh and he watched in fascination as it swung like a pendulum.
Realizing he was likely going into shock, he took several deep breaths, grasped it in his other hand and ripped it free. For several seconds, he sat there staring at the severed appendage resting in his palm, then turned his hand over and let it fall to the filth covered floor. A quick tug and the manacle on his left wrist slipped easily over his mangled hand.
Turning, he ripped a long strip of fabric off the thin mattress and with gritted teeth, tightly wrapped the exposed stump. Dismissing what he’d just done and ignoring the horrible pain, he stood and moved across the small cell. Now that one arm was free, he had greater range of motion and was able to reach the lock on the back wall that secured his chains.
Using the remaining fingers on his mutilated hand, Igor pressed and held a spring-loaded lever in the open position. This allowed a large gear onto which the chain’s links were threaded to spin freely and with a clanking rattle it unspooled several feet until the end fell free to swing beneath the large block attached to the ceiling.
Reaching up, he pulled slowly. After everything he’d endured, it wouldn’t do for him to get in a hurry and make a noise that would alert the guards that something wasn’t right.
As the chain snaked its way through the series of pulleys inside the block, he gathered it into his arms. Catching the end when it fell free, he knelt and gently deposited the pile onto the mattress. The fabric wrapped around his hand was already soaked through with blood and he took a minute to tear off a fresh strip to replace it.
Picking through the heavy pile of chain, he lifted the shackle and thoroughly examined it. He tested the nut that held the bolt in place, unable to move it with only his fingers. Pushing the mattress aside, he found a corner of the iron bunk frame where he could wedge the bolt into place. Holding pressure so it didn’t slip, he pressed on the loop of the shackle. His heart leapt when he felt movement, but it was just the shackle slipping free of the iron frame.
There had been a single, loud clank and he sat silently for several minutes, expecting a guard to show up any moment. When no one came to check, he carefully pushed the heavy bolt back into the V-shape that was his makeshift wrench. Repositioning so that pressure was coming from an angle that would also hold the shackle in place, he leaned his body weight into the loop.
Muscles rippled and his heart pounded in his ears, but the bolt didn’t budge. Pausing to take some breaths, he changed angles again, this time in a position that allowed him to put his feet against a wall. Holding tightly, he used his entire body to push. With no warning, the bolt suddenly spun free, sending him tumbling.
Leaping back to his feet, he rushed to the bed and feverishly spun the nut off the bolt. With the shackle open, he removed the end of the chain that was still attached to the manacle on his right wrist. Holding his hand up, he looked at the eight feet of heavy iron chain dangling from it. A link at a time, he formed it into a loop, grasping it tightly.
Padding to the cell door, Igor took his time listeni
ng before pressing his face against the bars to see down the corridor. Distantly, he could hear voices, punctuated with an occasional burst of laughter. The guards. Confident in the security of the chains they’d restrained him with. So confident that they had never bothered to lock the cell door.
An inch at a time, he slid it open. Sticking his head out into the hall, he stepped through when he didn’t see anything. But he could hear the jailers. Silently, he moved on bare feet, leaving a bloody print with each step.
He stopped at an intersection. The men’s voices were louder, coming from the left. A quick look around the corner and he spotted a guard station where the noise was coming from. The door was open and he could smell vodka and cigarette smoke. He listened as one of them recounted, in graphic detail, what he’d done to Irina, and began describing what he still planned to do.
He stepped around the corner and strode quickly to the open door. The four men looked up, shocked into silence by the terrifying, bloody beast that had suddenly appeared. Igor didn’t hesitate. As he moved into the room, he swung the looped chain in his hand, shattering the skull of the closest man and spattering the other three with blood and brains.
They leapt up, turning over the table in their haste to draw short truncheons worn on their belts. Igor waded in and with a massive blow, crushed the chest of the next guard. Shoving the corpse aside, he raised his hand to block an attack from one of the clubs. Following through, he used the heavy chain to break the man’s arm before pulling him close.
Letting the chain uncoil, he wrapped it in two quick turns around the struggling guard’s neck and grabbed the loose end with his damaged hand. Bellowing, he put his foot in the man’s back and pushed as he pulled with all the power in his huge shoulders.
There was a loud crunch as his trachea and vertebrae were crushed, then a moment’s further resistance. Igor screamed in rage as he doubled his effort, then stumbled backward when the guard’s head was torn from his body. Blood fountained across the last surviving jailer as the decapitated corpse toppled to the side.
