But Tanner’s face had gone white. He dug for his phone and stared at it in horror. “Oh shit,” he said. “You just made me realize something, I’ve got to …”
He leapt off the bed and looked frantically around the room. He settled on a can of generic peas and grabbed it off the shelf. Laying the phone on the desk, he began hitting it over and over with the can, smashing it to pieces. He sorted through the shards, picking up a tiny square chip between his finger and thumb, and whacked it hard.
“Tanner, stop it. Someone’s going to hear you!”
“Two things,” he said grimly, placing the smashed electronio bit almost gently on the table next to the destroyed phone. “First, I bet your uncle has soundproofed this place. Wouldn’t surprise me if there’s all kinds of insulation under the floors and behind the walls. And second, every cell phone in America has a tracking device built in. I don’t think they could hack it this fast, but with the right access and equipment, they could identify exactly where we are.”
Carina stared at the shards of plastic and metal and silicon. “But not anymore, I take it.”
“Yeah. And there’s no way they could have been on it already,” he said, sounding slightly less certain. “Not in that amount of time. I mean, tracing it would be pretty straightforward, but getting the number would be hard, even for them.”
“And mine’s back in that alley.” Carina couldn’t remember the exact moment she’d dropped her purse; it hadn’t made it on the BART train with her.
“I’ll bet it was untraceable anyway. There’s a reason your uncle wouldn’t let you have a smartphone, and it wasn’t because he didn’t trust you.” Tanner frowned, took a deep breath and rubbed his eyes.
“Hey, are you all right?”
“Yeah, I am.… I just feel off, like my senses aren’t reacting properly. Like I’m forgetting to blink or something.”
Carina knew the feeling, which was strange, because it was difficult to put into words. Whatever Tanner was coming down with, she had it too. “Kind of like there’s too much stimulation, right? Like the colors are too bright and the sounds too loud?”
“Yeah, and like I have too much energy. I mean, I feel like I just need to move.” He shrugged sheepishly, as though the admission embarrassed him. But Carina had noticed something else—something she didn’t want to mention because she didn’t know what it meant, and it scared her: his eye had begun to twitch more frequently at the corner. Just like hers. “Look, forget it, I’m sure I’m fine. Listen, you want to check out a couple more of the videos? Might help us figure out what Walter was really doing.”
He picked up the laptop and tapped the keyboard as they looked at the file list together.
“Try Project Venice Overview,” Carina said, watching him carefully; the twitch subsided.
The file opened and as the video prepared to play, she saw that it was Uncle Walter, in this same room. He was wearing different clothes, and the room was rearranged slightly: he was sitting in the desk chair off to the side. She could see the door to the bathroom in the corner of the screen. He must have set the recording device on the desk to take the video.
“My name is Walter Xavier Monroe,” he said in a clear, somber voice. “I am employed as a senior lead analyst at Calaveras National Laboratory.” He went on to give his employee ID and Social Security numbers.
“I have been working on Project Venice, which was undertaken by the Calaveras laboratory in March of 2010 after meetings with several branches of the armed services. I was not a part of those initial meetings, and my role has been strictly developmental. Our intent has been to create a synthetic virus to improve performance of US forces on the battlefield.”
“Wait,” Carina said. Tanner paused the video. “Virus? I—I’ve never heard of anything like this. Not from Walter or my mom.”
“I don’t know what to tell you,” Tanner said. “You want to keep watching?”
She nodded, and Tanner hit play. As Walter talked, she realized with growing horror that she’d known nothing about his work. And that it was a project that had gone very wrong.
The virus had been under development for years. Walter and Sheila and the rest of the team, including her mother, had been trying to isolate a virus that could enhance a soldier’s abilities for a short period of time in battle. The current version had what Uncle Walter called, with bitter irony, “the biggest potential.” It sharpened all five senses, making them more acute; it caused spikes in the production and release of adrenaline and other hormones and neurotransmitters, resulting in short-term improvement in strength, mental processing speed and acuity, and sensory perception and processing. Reaction times were markedly improved, and both fine and gross motor skills showed dramatic increases. The virus could be delivered directly into the bloodstream and had an extremely low rejection rate, and the microbes reproduced at a rate of one million percent within half an hour of delivery. It was not airborne and could be transmitted from one human to another only via saliva or blood contact, which was most effectively done in the first few hours after infection.
“A breakthrough like this could dramatically reduce casualty rates among US forces,” Walter said. “Incidents of fatigue, failure to advance position, friendly fire—we used various modeling to show that all of these could be curbed significantly. There was so much excitement during the first year of the study. It was classified top-secret, but we were assured that the project had the enthusiastic support of the government agencies involved, and there was a feeling of optimism among all of us.
“That was the good news,” Uncle Walter said, his voice tired. “Unfortunately, it was followed by a lot of bad news. For one thing, most iterations of the virus were plagued by a range of unpleasant symptoms. For most people, these were mild and included fever, increased appetite, dizziness, fainting, and mild arrhythmia, but for slightly less than two percent of the population there was a risk of heart failure. Slightly more than three-quarters of the test subjects experienced uncontrollable movements, mostly facial tics in the early stage and, later, gross-motor interruptions and even seizures.”
“Wait,” Carina said. “That’s, I mean—”
She didn’t finish her sentence, not wanting to miss anything Walter was saying, but those were their symptoms, the things she and Tanner had been feeling since this morning. The racing heart, the appetite, the enhancements to their senses and strength—even the twitching.
“… begins to mutate and degrade after twelve hours. The virus begins to attack brain and spinal tissue, causing interrupted neural response, seizures, and motor failure. In the early studies using laboratory subjects, these symptoms were apparent between eight and twelve hours after infection. At thirty-six hours, the virus could not be reversed, even if the antidote was administered. Death followed within thirty-six to thirty-nine hours of infection in every case.”
Tanner gripped her hand. Wordlessly, they exchanged a glance.
“Results have been remarkably consistent across test populations.” Walter looked directly into the camera, his jaw set, his eyes haunted. “A decision was made at the highest levels to begin human testing. Neither I nor any member of my team was consulted in this matter. Testing did not take place on-site. I cannot speculate as to where it took place or who participated. Nor do I wish to say how I came to be apprised of the results. Following an unauthorized test—unauthorized by me, that is to say—in which a subject died, I demanded that the project be suspended pending investigation. I was assured that this investigation was under way and that the parties responsible for the … errors had been removed from participation in the project.”
Walter paused and took a deep, shuddering breath. He rubbed his hand across his face but could not erase his haunted expression.
“Oh my God,” Carina whispered. “Tanner, those symptoms—they’re ours. Everything he described. We have the virus. Somehow Sheila gave it to us.”
“You don’t know that,” Tanner objected, but his face was white. �
�We’ve been under a lot of stress, it’s been a hell of a day—”
“That doesn’t explain it,” Carina interrupted. “It doesn’t explain this.”
She pointed to her eye. The skin around it spasmed, causing her to blink rapidly.
She had no idea how they had been infected, but it made a horrible kind of sense. The virus being developed at Calaveras Lab—the one she was supposed to have important knowledge about, information that could get her killed—the one that Sheila said had gotten Uncle Walter murdered. Had it been in the dart that had knocked her out? But what about Tanner—why was he affected? And they’d had the symptoms well before she had been shot. Was this her death sentence?
“You have it too,” she whispered, touching Tanner’s face.
He covered her hand with his, swallowing hard. “If that’s true … if it turns out you’re right—I just don’t understand how it could have happened.”
“Let’s watch to the end. Hit play.”
On-screen, Walter cleared his throat and took another deep breath. “We’ve been working on a virucide based on research initially conducted by Madelyn Jane Monroe, who died in June of last year. We developed a version of the antidote that completely eradicated the virus from the system, but was very complicated and expensive to produce.
“I and several colleagues were encouraged by the development of the antidote, and were working on attaching it to the virus-delivery mechanism in a time-release formulation. The idea was that when a subject was infected, he would also receive the antidote and we would control the period of time in which the infection would be active. But early testing among animal populations failed almost universally. The attachment mechanism is extremely complicated. Meanwhile, there was mounting pressure among our military sponsors to proceed with what was, in my mind, an unacceptable pairing of the infection with external delivery of antidote. A schism developed within our group, between those who favored pushing forward with testing in the human population and those of us who wanted further restrictions in place. I became, ah, quite vocal in my objections, and on March eleventh of this year I was dismissed from the team and assured that all of my concerns were being evaluated and addressed. I was told that I was needed on another project.” Walter laughed bitterly. “But seeing as there were already several of my colleagues, all of them far more qualified than I, heading up the new area I was assigned to, it was hard to view this as anything but an attempt to shut me up. I was sanctioned and forbidden to discuss my work. Most worrisome of all to me was that a new leader was assigned to serve in an exclusive liaison capacity, meaning that project reporting went directly, and only, through her.”
Carina felt her gut tighten, certain of what she would hear next. “That employee is Sheila Boylston. It pains me to say that I feel certain Sheila did not discontinue the field studies, but has actually widened their scope. I have further learned that she is receiving funding from outside sources. These include foreign interests. I have reason to believe that discussions are under way to sell the virus to foreign governments for their use in domestic and international battle. Needless to say, there would be no system in place for ensuring the antidote was made available whenever the virus is administered. Soldiers and innocent citizens would be put at unacceptable risk. My belief is that Sheila is taking bids for the technology and means to profit personally, along with hand-selected members of her team, from the sale of Project Venice data. While this violates lab policy as well as federal law, I am most concerned that the virus could be deployed in uncontrolled environments before year’s end, without the benefit of incorporated antidote. The risks, I cannot stress enough, are enormous.
“I made a decision to continue working on the antidote on my own. After the death of Madelyn Monroe, I gained access to her private work and refined the antidote. I have developed a version that attaches well to the virus. When injected, the virus is effectively canceled out after twenty-four hours in the body. At this time, I have given no one else access to the improved antidote, and I have grave reservations about ever putting it into production. There are too many variables in the battle arena to ensure that soldiers …”
Walter’s voice trailed off, his eyes moving to a point offscreen. “I have detailed my concerns elsewhere. I have also been in touch with Major Nathan Wynnside and am preparing a detailed analysis of Project Venice to date, along with a proposal for the destruction of all data and stores of the virus.
“Project Venice has strayed from our initial charge, which was to assist the men and women of our armed services. We never set out to develop supercharged battle drones, at the same time risking lives and turning people into expendable weapons. I implore you to consider the implications of allowing this research to continue. I believe you will reach the conclusion I have, which is that the only ethical resolution is complete termination of the project and destruction of all research conducted to date.”
Walter stopped speaking and fumbled with something out of view, ending the video. For a moment neither Carina nor Tanner said anything.
“We have it,” Carina whispered. “Whatever it is they made, we have it. We’re infected. And we have so little time before—” Her voice broke. “Before it’s too late.”
“He’s figured out how to make the antidote, Carina. Maybe the version we got—maybe it’s that kind. It’ll destroy itself and we’ll be all right.”
Carina could see that Tanner didn’t believe it any more than she did, that he was saying it just for her. “I just don’t understand why. Unless …”
Unless this was the ultimate threat, the one thing Sheila could hold over their heads to make them do exactly what she wanted: without her, they couldn’t get the antidote.
Without her, they would die.
“Even if we go to Sheila, I don’t have anything to give her,” Carina said. “Walter didn’t tell me anything.”
Tanner pointed to the locker key. “You have whatever is in the locker. What he wanted Major Wynnside to have. All you have to do is tell her that if she gives us the antidote, you’ll tell her where the locker is.”
“Maybe Walter left the antidote in the locker.”
“Seems unlikely. He wouldn’t have had any reason to think you would ever need it.”
“Yeah, I guess so. But if we tell Sheila we’ll trade with her, what guarantee do we have that she’ll keep her promise?” Carina said. “Once she has the key, there’s no reason for her to help us.”
“Do we have a choice?” Tanner’s voice was quiet.
“If we have the virus, we only have thirty-six hours from the time it happened. And I have a pretty good idea when I was infected. It had to be at the salon.”
Carina had been wrapped in a plush bathrobe, reclining in a big chair while an aesthetician gave her a facial, and then—a second woman had entered the room. She was dressed in the salon’s uniform, a pink blouse embroidered with its signature black lotus leaves, and she’d had a murmured conversation with the first woman, who soon left the room. This new woman announced that she would be taking care of hair removal. “When they waxed my brows, it hurt like hell. There was this stinging … it would have been so easy. My eyes were closed the whole time, and they could have injected me then and I’d never have known. I mean, it sounds crazy—”
“It sounds likely,” Tanner said. “Remember who sent you to the salon. Who picked up the bill. Who could have easily bribed someone to let her own person come into the room, or even to do the injection herself. There’s a dozen different ways she could have done it, but the bottom line, Car, is Sheila infected you.”
“But what about you?”
“I think that part was an accident.” Tanner blushed. “You came home from the salon, and I picked you up a little after nine. We were up on the roof by nine-thirty, and then—I mean, Walter said that the virus could be passed through saliva.…”
Carina remembered the way Tanner had kissed her with increasing passion, the moment when she knew it wouldn’t be enough, th
at nothing less than everything would be enough.
“Oh my God,” she whispered. “I did this to you. It’s my fault you’re infected.”
“No,” Tanner said grimly. “You can’t think like that. It’s her fault. Sheila, and whoever she’s got helping her.”
“So if we’re right, I’ve been infected for …” Carina glanced at the time on the laptop: it was already after eleven-thirty. “They did my brows at six. I remember because the salon was supposed to close at six and they made a big deal about staying open a few minutes late to finish with me. I mean, no wonder, if Sheila paid them off! So that’s—yes … almost thirty hours ago. Which means I’ve only got six left. And you’ve got a few more.”
“Three more. Nine hours.” Tanner grimaced, then forced a neutral expression. “So the virus is already breaking us down, which explains the tremors.” He held out his hand, which had begun shaking again. Almost at the same moment, Carina felt a vein in her neck spasm. The tics were minor—so far—but the idea of them worsening was terrifying.
“Tanner, let me see that.” She reached for the laptop, scrolling to the top of the file list. She found the one she’d noticed before, Subject Two: Hours 24–38, and clicked on it. As the file loaded, she didn’t meet Tanner’s eyes; she wasn’t sure she was really ready to find out how she was going to die.
On the screen, a young man in a plain gray T-shirt and khaki fatigue pants stood at the edge of a field. It was an overcast day, a slate sky reaching down to the mountains far in the distance. The man looked like a soldier, with his hair cut short, his arms and chest muscular under the tight shirt. Then again, he could have been a member of the lab’s security force. His expression was neutral, until his shoulder jerked—twice, in quick succession. A look of confusion passed over his features.
In the corner of the screen, a digital time stamp ticked the seconds. It read 21:18:02. There was the sound of a man clearing his throat, and then an off-camera voice said, “Field test two, twenty-one hours eighteen minutes after initial infection.”
Infected Page 8
