“Were you and your friends together the whole time?” the interviewer asked.
“For the most part.”
A notation on the page, then, “Did you see any others? Survivors, I mean.”
The girls hadn’t discussed this point. Should she tell the woman about Martina, Noreen, Riley, and Craig? “I didn’t see anyone,” she said. If the other girls wanted to tell their interviewers about Martina, so be it. She didn’t feel right doing it.
The questions went on for over half an hour. At the end, Jilly was led through several stadium tunnels and out onto the baseball field, where two identical fenced-in areas were set up. They looked very much like the prisoner-of-war camps she’d seen in history class.
“Quarantine,” her escort had said. “Just until we’re sure you aren’t showing any signs of the illness. At that point, you’ll be given the vaccine.”
“And then I’ll be free to go?”
He looked surprised by her question. “Well, of course, that’s a choice you can make. But we do have relocation zones where we are consolidating survivors. You’d be much happier there.” When she didn’t say anything, he went on. “Anyway, you don’t have to make that decision now.” His friendly smile was back. “There are books and movies inside the barracks building. You’ll find something to occupy your time.”
But Jilly didn’t read any of the books. She didn’t watch any of the movies, either. None of her teammates did. Though they hadn’t discussed it, she sensed they all were feeling the same way she was. That something was wrong here.
Jilly turned on her side, the uncomfortable thoughts refusing to go away. When sleep finally came, it wasn’t like a wave that pushed her deep beneath the surface, but more like a gentle swell, lapping over her face for a moment or two, but never enough to keep her under for long.
FROM THE JOURNAL OF BELINDA RAMSEY
11:57 PM CST
SO TIRED. WALKED until dark, but have only made it a few miles out of town, I think. I don’t know for sure.
Found a farm just off the highway. Too scared to go into the house, so am in the barn. Plan was to have something to eat, then figure out where exactly I am. Guess I must have lain down. I don’t remember doing that. But I do remember the last time I checked my watch it was almost 7 p.m., so looks like I’ve been out for about five hours.
Still exhausted, though. Forcing myself to eat and jot this down. Eyes are already getting heavy again, so am sure I’ll be sleeping soon.
Until tomorrow.
January 2nd
World Population
961,001,699
Twenty-Two
FOR THE FIRST time since 1804, Earth’s human population dipped below one billion.
Twenty-Three
MUMBAI, INDIA
4:41 AM IST
SANJAY KNEW HIS best chance of getting back inside the Pishon Chem compound unseen was to go while most of the troops stationed at the survival station were spread throughout the city, looking for escaped survivors. He asked Kusum to come with him, knowing he would need someone as backup, and she was the one he trusted most. Besides, she wouldn’t have let him go without her.
They made record time on their return trip, and worked their way through the neighborhood surrounding the compound until they were once more standing next to the hole at the back wall. They paused there, listening, in case a guard had been stationed on the other side. All was quiet.
As soon as Sanjay passed underneath the wall, though, his heart sank. Someone had moved a couple of barrels over the hole’s exit. He put his hand on the bottom of one of the barrels and tested its weight.
Empty.
He tried the other. Also empty.
Not quite the disaster he had feared.
Careful to not tip over the barrels, he inched the first one to the side, and then did the same with the other. After they were out of the way, he poked his head out and looked around. The area was as deserted as it had been when he and Kusum came through earlier.
He crawled back out the other side. “Okay,” he whispered to Kusum. “Be very careful.”
She rolled her eyes and waved impatiently for him to go back under.
After they were in the compound, they put the barrels back in front of the hole. To the casual observer, it would look like the barrels were still in place. Sanjay then led Kusum around the scrap piles and headed toward the administration building.
The vaccine he had stolen for Kusum and her family had been located in a medical storage room near the first-floor conference room. He thought they must have more of it there. If not…
No! It is there, he told himself.
They passed between the dormitory buildings and over to the back entrance to admin.
“You stay out here,” he whispered to Kusum.
“Why? So someone walking by can see me?”
“What? No. Someone needs to keep an eye on things out here. And since I am the one who knows where the vaccine is, I need to be the one who goes inside. There,” he said, pointing at a few parked vehicles a dozen meters away. “Hide behind those cars. You will be fine.”
SENIOR MANAGER DETTLING had lost track of how many times he wished someone else had been put in charge of the Mumbai location, but never had he wished it more than after his ass chewing by the principal director.
Just get me through this so I can help with the rebuilding.
That’s what he’d been looking forward to. This killing, this culling of humanity, as necessary as he realized it was, still gnawed at his soul.
This was why he had conspired with the other Pishon managers to hide the real cause of Herr Schmidt’s death. He couldn’t blame that boy Sanjay for shooting the senior manager in the shoulder so he could steal some vaccine for his family, any more than he could blame one of his own people if one were responsible for cutting the holes in the detention-area fences. The possibility of it being an inside job hadn’t occurred to him, but the principal director seemed convinced. Hell, under the right circumstances, Dettling himself might have cut the holes.
The director wanted a witch hunt, wanted him to serve up whoever had done this—if indeed it was one of Dettling’s people—and undoubtedly pack him off for punishment elsewhere. Dettling didn’t think he could do that. He ran a hand through what was left of his hair, trying to think of some way out of this.
It was the picture on the wall that provided him the answer. It was a shot of the Pishon Chem managers with several of their Indian team members. A PR picture taken by a local newspaper that probably never had the chance to run it. But it had been important to keep up appearances, so the team had posed, smiling.
One of the managers in the picture was Bernard Weathersbee. He’d been one of Dettling’s lieutenants until he was severely injured in a truck accident less than twenty-four hours after the spraying had begun. Weathersbee had held on for over a week, but finally succumbed to his injuries yesterday morning.
Dettling made a quick check of the logs. No, the death had not yet been reported to the directorate.
He thought for a moment. Yes, it might work. He felt bad blaming his friend, but it was better than pointing the finger at someone who would suffer for it.
When the escapees were finally caught, Dettling would serve up Weathersbee, saying he’d been killed during the search. Satisfied, he left his office in search of van Assen to help set the plan in motion.
AS SANJAY NEARED the conference room, the door across the hall began to open. With nowhere else to go, he slipped inside the unused office he’d just passed.
Leaving the door open a crack, he watched as Mr. Dettling, one of the Pishon Chem managers Sanjay had known, emerged from the senior manager’s office. If Sanjay had been a few feet farther down the hall, Dettling would have seen him and recognized him for sure.
Sanjay’s pulse raced.
Relax, he told himself. You’re almost there.
He waited to make sure Dettling didn’t immediately come back, then he reentered th
e hallway and slinked past the empty conference room to the unmarked door of the medical supply room. He tried the knob, hoping it was unlocked, but he wasn’t that lucky. And he couldn’t break into it. Besides the fact the door was sturdy, the noise would draw attention. What he needed was the silver key with the J on it. That’s how he’d gotten in last time.
He looked back at the senior manager’s office. Had Dettling come from a meeting with the man? Or was it empty, the senior manager attending to business elsewhere? Sanjay had been armed with a gun the previous time he was in the gray-haired man’s presence. He’d even had to shoot the senior manager in the shoulder to convince him to cooperate. Now, the only things he had were the wire cutters he was still carrying and his own two hands.
You do not need a gun, he told himself.
The senior manager was old and weak and dismissive. Sanjay could easily get the key from the man. He was sure of it.
He checked the hallway Dettling had turned down to make sure it was empty, and crossed over to the office. Slowly he pushed the door open, ready to rush in if the manager started to yell.
But no one was inside.
Hoping the manager had left his keys behind, Sanjay raced over to the desk. There were no keys sitting on top, so he started pulling open drawers. Nothing in the center drawer or in the top drawers on either side.
The bottom drawers presented a problem. Both were locked. He finally figured out that if he left the center drawer open, the locks would release. He hit pay dirt in the bottom left drawer. A cardboard box stuffed in the back contained three key rings, each holding a couple dozen keys. The first set he checked had the silver J key, so he didn’t bother with the other two. Putting everything back so no one would know he’d been there, he returned to the hallway.
The key slipped easily into the medical supply room door, like he knew it would. A turn to the left resulted in a click as the latch pulled away. Sanjay stepped inside, closed the door, and turned on the light.
He was here. He’d made it.
Knowing he had precious little time, he hurried over to the glass cabinet where the vaccine had been last time. When he took it then, he’d identified it by its orange tint, the selection confirmed by the look in the senior manager’s eyes. Now, after filling dozens of syringes with the vaccine when he and Kusum had inoculated the others in their group, he had seen more than enough bottles to recognize the drug’s name if he saw it again.
KV-27a/V/ASH VARIANT.
He had no idea what it meant, but that wasn’t important.
Starting on the top shelf, he worked his way to the bottom, checking every item. No vaccine. He moved to the bottom cabinet, but it was empty.
This is where it was, he told himself. Could I have taken it all?
He looked around, searching for another cabinet like the ones he’d checked. But he already knew there were no other similar cabinets. As he twisted to the left, his gaze fell on a stack of boxes in the corner that had not been there before. Printed on the side in black was /V/ASH.
It wasn’t the full name he’d seen on the vials, but part of it.
He pulled the top box off the stack and set it on the counter. It was just under a half meter square and almost the same high. The seams were sealed with black and yellow striped tape.
He pulled the wire cutters from his pocket and sliced down the middle of the tape. Inside the box were four smaller containers that looked identical to the ones full of vaccine he’d stolen. Trying not to get his hopes up, he opened one of the small boxes. It was full of vials containing an orange-tinted liquid. Holding his breath, he pulled one out and looked at the label.
KV-27a/V/ASH VARIANT
He opened another of the smaller boxes. It, too, contained the vaccine. All the boxes must’ve contained the vaccine.
His excitement was momentarily tempered by the thought that maybe the survival station was exactly what it was supposed to be. That maybe anyone coming in would get one of these shots.
But why would the same people who had brought the plague down on everyone be the ones who started handing out the cure?
That’s when the likely truth dawned on him. It was horrible. Almost worse than unleashing the disease itself.
The cure would be handed out, but only to those the Pishon Chem people—whom Leon had referred to as Project Eden—deemed worthy of it.
Sanjay put the vials away and secured the top of the box. No, he would not allow this Project Eden to make that decision. If someone needed the vaccine, no matter who they were, Sanjay would make sure the person received it.
KUSUM CHECKED HER watch again. It was closing in on thirty minutes.
She stared at the door Sanjay had disappeared behind, willing him to open it and step through. When he finally did, she let out a gasp of surprise.
Realizing he was having difficulty closing the door because of the box he was carrying, she jumped out of her hiding spot and ran over. As she neared, she realized it wasn’t just one box, but two.
“Let me,” she whispered, putting her hand on the doorknob.
With relief, he let go and watched her quietly close the door.
“Is this all vaccine?” she asked.
“Yes.”
“This is so much more than before.”
“This is not even half of it. There are six more boxes.”
“Six more,” she said. “How can we carry that many?”
“We cannot, but we can hide what we cannot take with us, and come back for them later. Better in our hands than in theirs, yes?
Instead of taking the boxes from him, she grabbed his face and kissed him. “You are a surprising man, Sanjay.”
“Not surprising. What other choice do we have?”
“That’s exactly what I mean.”
“Take these,” he said, shoving the boxes toward her. “Carry them over to the hole and come right back.”
She transported the first two boxes, and then boxes three and four.
When she returned for the next pair, he said, “I will bring the last two. Take these and the others out of the compound, then start taking them to the building we used before. The sooner we can finish, the better.”
Kusum nodded. “Do not be long.”
“I’ll be right behind you.”
DETTLING FOUND VAN Assen at the security office near the main gate, monitoring the search efforts. He motioned for him to come outside where they’d have some privacy.
“Any progress?” he asked, after he’d led his assistant around the side of the building.
“Unfortunately, no,” van Assen said.
“What do you think the likelihood is we’ll find any of them?”
His assistant seemed reluctant to reply, but finally said, “We’ll be lucky if we find one or two. It’s a huge city, and they know it better than us.”
“I agree,” Dettling admitted. While it would have been nice to find them, the important thing now was the assigning of blame. “I need your help on a delicate matter.”
Van Assen had proven to be a very trustworthy and competent assistant, who was of a similar mind to Dettling on most matters concerning the Project, so the senior manager had no reservations about filling him in on his plan to placate the principal director.
“We can do this quietly,” Dettling said when he finished outlining his plan. “The report will go straight to the directorate. No one else here needs to know about any of it.”
“Of course,” van Assen said. “I’ll handle the staging and the pictures immediately. There are plenty of empty rooms on the basement level. We can say we cornered him in one of them. He then put up a fight and, unfortunately, was killed in the process.”
Dettling kept his expression blank, but inside he felt relieved. Van Assen understood exactly what he wanted. Everything was going to be just fine.
“I think, perhaps, it would be good if we continue the search for a few more hours,” van Assen suggested. “The fewer people here at the compound while I take care o
f this other matter, the better.”
“Yes, I agree.”
“Well, then, I suppose I should get to work.”
SANJAY ENTERED THE main building and returned to the medical room for the fourth time that evening. As he picked up the last two boxes, his gaze fell on the set of keys he’d put on the counter.
For a few seconds, he wondered if he should return them to the senior manager’s office, but thought that the missing vaccine would be noticed long before the missing keys, so he left them where they were.
As he’d done each trip before, he used the wall to help him hold the boxes while he turned the knob, and started to open the door.
That’s when he heard the footsteps.
VAN ASSEN RETURNED to the admin building and made a stop at his office. There, he retrieved a pair of gloves, a camera, and his set of keys. While he could have grabbed the Glock 9mm pistol in his drawer, he knew it would be better if the shots that “brought Weathersbee down” were not from the gun assigned to him.
The main weapons arsenal was located back in the security building. There was, however, a weapons locker—albeit a less–equipped one—near Mr. Dettling’s office. He headed there next, and was considering which firearm would be best when he heard a door open behind him.
He turned quickly, a thousand excuses for why he needed to be in the locker running through his head, but no one was in the hallway. As far as he could tell, all the doors were shut.
But it had definitely been a door. He closed the weapons locker door and tiptoed over to the nearest office. Placing his ear close to the surface, he listened for anyone inside. Not hearing anything, he moved quietly to the next office, but it was more dead air.
He knew he had heard a door, and it had been in this hallway. Not counting Dettling’s, there was one more office, the conference room, and a few storage rooms. He headed for the office.
The Project Eden Thrillers Box Set 2: Books 4 - 6 (Ashes, Eden Rising, & Dream Sky) Page 45
