Defiant: Quantic Dreams Book 2

by Elizabeth McLaughlin

  The firestorm was spreading fast; soon I would be driven too far away from the door to be discovered. At least I was certainty that there were alarms going off in the shelter right now. There was little danger of the fire spreading even an inch past the door. That wasn’t the concern. It was the air quality that was. Even a small leak of carbon monoxide into the shelter’s air circulation system could turn deadly. Thusly the shelter was equipped with firefighting equipment. It was imperative that any fire, no matter how large or small, was extinguished as quickly as possible.

  That’s exactly what I was counting on.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  The heat was suffocating. Beads of sweat broke out on my forehead and my feet protested the further exposure to extreme heat. I hovered around the edges of the blaze the best I could but it was getting difficult. Where the hell where the firefighters…? The effects of dehydration and undernourishment had already been taking their toll and were intensified by the fire. Even in the bright light I was starting to have trouble distinguishing shapes and more than once I tripped over nothing, landing in the dirt hard each time. I was tired, so tired. The heat from the fire was seductive and cloying, a lethal lullaby that urged me to lay down and rest, everything would be all right as soon as I went to sleep.

  If no one opened that door soon, it might not be such a bad way to go. The smoke would overwhelm my lungs long before the flames consumed my flesh. I imagined that it might be like going to sleep. A slow drift into unconsciousness. I shook my head and pain shot through my skull. Had I fallen on a rock back there somewhere? Dimly, I pressed my fingers to my head but found no blood. If there had been any, perhaps it was dried already. My vision had blurred, I was starting to see double. I decided that I would at least sit in the grass where I thought the fire was unlikely to spread towards me. As soon as my backside touched the ground, the ground came out from under me and I fell, head smacking into the hard dirt. Some dim voice in my mind screamed at me to get up, that if I didn’t move I was going to die, but I didn’t care. I was just so damned tired. Above me the smattering of stars I had admired so well my first night in camp had started to shine. I wondered if the old stories were true-maybe I’d be up there myself soon, joining my ancestors in watching what hell our progeny had brought to the planet.

  My eyes slid shut even without my knowing. The voice that had begged me to stand up was quiet now. I felt the creeping fingers of death starting to touch the edges of my consciousness. Something within me knew that I should panic-I was going to die horribly, after all, but the weight of my body felt too heavy to even move. I let go and let myself drift away.

  I awoke to the feel of something cool on my face and a sharp smell in my nose. I shook my head, trying to clear whatever it was away. Whatever the object was, it was bringing unwanted alertness. If I had to die, I sure as hell didn’t want to be awake for it. Something slapped me across the face and I pictured the cat-thing, returned to find itself an easy kill. Maybe it was just playing with me before tearing my throat out. Sadistic bastard.

  “Grandpa?” The word was far away, like someone speaking from behind a barrier. Another slap and my eyes flew open. I was being carried through the shelter’s inner door, the metal frame above me familiar and confusing. Maybe this was one last glance at my family. I heard that happened sometimes. If there was a God, he was one real son of a bitch. Forcing me to see my family again before I died didn’t feel like a chance to say farewell. It felt like a taunt. A bright yellow helmet and a respirator appeared in front of my face. Wearing them was a tan-skinned man with familiar eyes.

  “Marcus?” Each syllable was a fresh fire lit in my throat.

  “Yeah, it’s me. Don’t try to talk, okay? You’re in rough shape. You’re on oxygen and we’re taking you to the infirmary.”

  “No!” Were they crazy? That would definitely kill me! Marcus sighed underneath his firefighting gear.

  “Calm down, old man. I know it’s hard but get over yourself and trust me for once, okay?”

  I nodded and let my body relax. Everything hurt, the aches and pains of everything I had gone through over the past days amplified by the trauma from the fire. I couldn’t smell anything underneath the tang of the oxygen but it felt like I had some nasty burns. Char-broiled grandpa. I chuckled to myself. They must have given me some painkiller, too.

  “For fuck’s sake, Grandpa—did you have to try to burn down the shelter?” It was a rhetorical question, of course. I cracked a crooked grin and nodded. He laughed. I must have slipped into unconsciousness again because the next thing I knew I was in a curtained-off cubicle in the infirmary. My oxygen mask had been replaced with a modified respirator. Twin filters hung off of it like grotesque tumors, giving me the appearance of growing tusks. I tried to turn my head and found that I couldn’t. I couldn’t even wiggle a finger. That made me wake up. It felt like I couldn’t breathe. I tossed my head back and forth and screamed, but what came out of my mouth was nothing more than a hoarse cry. One of the curtains whisked open and Dr. Naylor rushed in.

  “It’s all right Jacob, it’s all right. Take it easy.” He put his palms on my shoulders and pressed gently. “You’ve been dosed with a paralytic. You’ll get the feeling back in the rest of your body in a couple of hours, though you might not like it when you do.”

  “Wha-wha-“

  “Try not to talk. Is your mouth dry? You need some water?” I nodded. Dr. Naylor left my cubicle and returned with a basin of water and a small sponge on the end of a stick. He soaked the sponge and pried my mouth open gently with a gloved hand. The water felt good-more than good, as I started to feel a little lightheaded. More painkiller, no doubt. I was thankful that I couldn’t lift my head. The rest of my body was covered by a sheet anyway. They would have covered every inch of me they could-they had to if I had any open wounds. “Now, I expect you’ll be wondering what’s gone on.”

  “Mm.” Even with the painkiller, my throat still felt like it was on fire.

  “First things first, your family is okay. Fiona has been ill, but her case seems to be relatively mild. She’s been placed in our field hospital, which I’ll explain to you in a moment. Out of an abundance of caution, I promise you. Her blood pressure has been up and down and we’d like to keep an eye on her. We’ve had a couple of dozen go critical, and a couple dozen more die. The severely ill are being provided hospice care. Pain relieving measures only. The dead have all been placed into cold storage or burned. It’s been rough. The medical team are all right. We’ve been adhering to your schedule as closely as possible.”

  “F-fi”

  “Yes. We set up a field hospital in the athletic areas. Only those who require medical supervision. Everyone else is still confined to quarters. We’ve got the fancy machines going now, synthesizing what we believe will work as a vaccine. You can thank Phoebe for that one. I don’t think she’s slept since you disappeared. Smart woman. I just hope she makes it through this. She deserves a chance at life outside.”

  “Sophia. Daisy.” I winced, the short words being more than my mouth was ready to produce. Dr. Naylor looked away before meeting my eyes.

  “Gone, I’m sorry to say. Both of them. Her husband and Daisy’s sibling survived. It was peaceful, Jacob. Towards the end. They both slipped into a coma before they passed. They didn’t even know what was happening.”

  I shut my eyes as a wave of grief and anger crashed into me. I hadn’t known the Caruso family very well before all of this, but Sophia and I had formed a special bond, and I had started to look at Daisy like a surrogate granddaughter. It wasn’t fair. Memories flashed through my mind like movie clips. Sophia had been integral in freeing the shelter from their simulated prison. If we made it through this, I would ensure that she and her daughter received the honors they deserved. That all the dead deserved. I felt something wet on my face. Tears. Dr. Naylor produced a tissue and dabbed at my face for me.

  “I’m sorry, Jacob. It’s clear they were dear to you.” I nodded weakly. Th
e painkillers were starting to hit me in full now. My eyelids felt like they were made of iron. The effort of keeping my eyes open was getting to be too much. “Rest now. I’ll tell you the rest of the story when you wake up.”

  “Okay.”

  I don’t know long I was out. The next time I woke up Dr. Naylor was gone. Shift change. It was Shannon who sat at my bedside, scrolling through medical charts on a tablet. When she noticed that I was awake she smiled. “We really have to stop meeting like this, you know.”

  I rolled my eyes and tried to stick out my tongue but it was a chunk of sandpaper in my mouth. “Do you think you’re feeling up to swallowing some water?” Shannon produced a cup and lifted my head to gently pour cool water into my mouth. At first the water hit the back of my throat and I coughed, splattering her scrubs. She didn’t skip a beat and tried again. The water gave me more relief than the painkillers had, the cold of it sliding down my throat like a balm.

  “More.” Talking was easier now. My lips and throat still ached, but speaking didn’t leave me with the feeling of shoving a hot coal into my windpipe anymore.

  “No, ‘fraid not. Not yet. You’ve suffered some pretty nasty burns and your throat is damaged from smoke inhalation. To be more specific, you’ve got second degree burns on your legs and some first degree ones on your torso and arms. They didn’t bother to try and figure out why. You might have passed out close enough to the flames that if they hadn’t found you, you’d be toast. Literally. If you ask me, not your best plan ever. Though perhaps better than nearly frying yourself after flooding Gabriel’s server room.”

  I stuck my tongue out at her and she laughed. The laughs gradually turned into sobs, her face a grimace of pain as she held her face in her hands. The paralytic had started to wear off by now and I reached out to take her hand. She seemed to jerk out of it then, letting go of me to wipe the tears from her eyes. “I’m sorry. It’s been a lot.”

  “I’m sure.”

  “Dr. Naylor told me that I need to fill in a few gaps for you.”

  “G-george.” It was hard to call him by that name, but I doubted that anyone else had

  Shannon nodded. “I’m guessing that you already figured out his play. He’s strong armed his way into leadership. He’s letting us try to contain the outbreak for now but he’s making plans to plug anyone willing back into the virtual world as possible.”

  I had to tell her. While I was laid up in bed there had to be someone who could spread the word about the real danger. All things considered, Shannon might be the only person who might buy my story. At the very least she probably wouldn’t run from the room screaming or try and stick me in a straitjacket.

  “We have rudimentary filters installed in the field hospital,” she continued without noticing my distraction. “Since the virus is droplet spread even a simple filter should help slow any spread. The number of dead has people a little spooked. The upside is that people have by and large been all right staying in their quarters and following our directives. The downside is that every day more and more are opting to return to the virtual world.”

  “Understandable.”

  Shannon leaned in close. “Between you and me, something’s off about him. He seems to have a lot of emotional lability. One minute he seems happy and confident, the next he’s angry and explosive. I haven’t spent a lot of time with him but I’m concerned that he’s unstable. We know that some people who have been infected only show mild symptoms, and we know that increased aggression is fairly common.”

  I motioned for her to get me more water. When I had finished drinking, I pursed my lips. “Shannon, we know each other reasonably well, right?”

  “I’d say so, I’ve seen you naked a number of times now.”

  I smiled, my lips stinging as they cracked. “And you trust me, right?”

  “Yeah, of course.”

  “What I’m about to say to you is strange, but please bear with me.” I recounted the whole thing to her, from realizing that Gabriel had managed to upload his mind into George’s body, to our confrontation, to being shoved into the outside world with barely enough supplies to live through the week. When I was finished it was like I had run a marathon. I felt like I couldn’t catch my breath and while the painkiller masked the the burns it did nothing to camouflage the ache and exhaustion of an old body that had been battered within an inch of its life. “You have anything stronger for me, Shannon?”

  She didn’t reply. Her chin rested on her hands as she stared into space. I could see her doing the math, running over the details of the past few months to slot in the new pieces of information. I was beginning to get concerned when she snapped out of it. “Yeah, just...just let me go get something for you.” She returned with a minuscule syringe that she injected into my IV line. “Morphine,” she murmured. “It should take the edge off.”

  “You all right?”

  “You just told me that it’s possible for an AI to upload their personality and mind into a human being. You’ll have to excuse me if that freaks me out a little.”

  “I understand.”

  “We have to get out.”

  “My thoughts exactly. Give me a couple of days to rest and we’ll get to work.”

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  The next few days passed in a blur. Precious time and materials were taken away from the 3D printers, still working overtime to produce personal protective equipment, to begin producing skin grafts. When they were ready they would be laced with a topical anesthetic that would allow me to be mobile. I wouldn’t be running any marathons any time soon but I would be able to walk around and resume a semblance of regularity. Three times a day I was attached to new and varicolored pouches of antibiotics, nutrients, and rehydration packets. So many holes were poked in my arms that I felt like a human pincushion. I finally consented to the installation of a semipermanent port on my arm-if only to escape the endless miniature stabbings.

  I was treated with an unusual combination of respect and fear by other patients, visitors, and the medical staff. After all, I was the first person to spend an extended time outside of the shelter and lived to tell the tale. It was like I was a creature that needed to be kept at arms length. People passing through were happy to say hello but whenever I tried to invite them for further conversation they found themselves with somewhere urgent to be. I didn’t take it too personally. The transition from the simulation into the shelter was jarring enough. They weren’t ready to accept the idea of the surface. I’m not certain that they really believed that it was possible to live out there again. Before Gabriel had shoved me out there, I’m not sure I completely believed it myself.

  Eliza and Marcus visited me on my second day in the infirmary, keeping their distance to avoid contaminating my wounds. Marcus seemed to have aged five years overnight-in a good way. In my absence he had positioned himself as a quiet figure of resistance against Gabriel. There was a vocal minority that felt the best way forward was to leave the shelter. My injuries aside, the fact that I had lived outside and returned in one piece seemed to bolster the confidence of those who wanted to leave in the first place-as few in number as they were. Marcus told me that he had connected with the folks close to him in the virtual world. They largely agreed with the idea that leaving the shelter was a natural step forward. Being careful not to draw too much attention to themselves among Gabriel’s power grab, they had been busy making sure the supplies hadn’t been tampered with.

  Eliza was fraught with worry. Neither she nor Marcus had shown any symptoms of the virus so far. There was still a chance that they were infected, but it was clear that her wife’s illness had sapped her energy. I invited her to sit next to me for a while. We didn’t speak. I simply took her hand in mine and let her take a break from her burden for a while. Whereas Marcus had become harder and stronger, Eliza had softened. It was one of the strangest things about being human. We are uniquely gifted with the knowledge of our own mortality, yet we are always surprised when faced with the fact that we
won’t be here forever. The same goes for our chosen mates. Swearing ‘to death do us part’ never really means that. We figure that our marriages are forever. I didn’t need to tell Eliza that I knew how she felt. She knew how Fiona’s mother died. Sharing the sympathy of someone else who knew what it was like was enough. I told her to give Fiona my love, and reassured her that I would be up on my feet in no time. Every time she tried to bring up Gabriel’s takeover of the shelter I hushed her.

  “I’m on it.”

  She laughed then, a deep belly laugh that reverberated throughout the infirmary before she clamped her hand over her mouth.

  “Of course you are.” She grinned. “You’re in your golden years, got the shit kicked out of you, and nearly lit yourself on fire, but don’t worry, you’re on it.”

  “I’m still breathing, aren’t I?”

  “That you are, Jacob. That you are. Just make sure you stay that way long enough to see your daughter, okay? Fiona’s going to kill me if I let you die.”

  “I’ll try.”

  Late that night I received a visit from Gabriel. It was well past lights out and the few other patients staying with me were gently snoring. I was just drifting off myself when the curtain to my bed whisked back. I could see his hulking form in the dim light as he stared at me, unblinking.

  “Couldn’t even kill yourself properly, could you.” His voice was a low rumble, barely loud enough for me to hear.

  “What can I say.” A low level anxiety thrummed through me. There was nothing I could do, or say, to raise the alarm fast enough to save me now. The truth was, there wasn’t a lot he could do to me. Or so I thought. Surely the sounds of my choking would be heard by the other patients or the doctor and someone would come running…right?