Z-Minus Box Set 2

by Perrin Briar

  “When did you work with the police?” she said.

  “To help analyze evidence,” Hamish said.

  “Maybe it’s best if we don’t go inside,” Kate said. “If there’s a virus in there, the last thing we need is to bring it out here for all of us to catch.”

  “So long as everyone stays in the communal area, it’ll be fine,” Hamish said.

  “Are you sure about this?” Kate said.

  “I’ll just have a quick look round,” Hamish said. “Won’t take long.”

  “All right,” Kate said. “But you’ll have to wear a quarantine suit. Just in case.”

  Kate led him to the main changing chamber. She opened a box underneath the rack.

  Great, Hamish thought. More thick clothes.

  Kate helped him on with the suit. The familiar stink of sweat.

  “Doesn’t anyone wash anything around here?” Hamish said.

  Kate was a bit rough with the gloves and pulling the straps tight.

  “Will you take it easy?” Hamish said.

  “Why did you lie?” Kate said.

  “What are you talking about?” Hamish said.

  “What use would the police have for a biologist?” Kate said.

  “You’d be surprised,” Hamish said.

  “Too right I would!” Kate said, pulling the second glove on tight. “I don’t need you to protect me.”

  “I wasn’t protecting you,” Hamish said. “I’m the most qualified person here to do the job, so it should be me who does it.”

  Kate pressed her lips together, not happy with Hamish’s logical argument.

  “I’m just going to be having a poke around anyway,” Hamish said. “It’s not like I’m doing anything dangerous.”

  “Like running out into a storm,” Kate said.

  “Thanks for worrying about me,” Hamish said.

  “You don’t have to do this,” Kate said.

  “Someone has to,” Hamish said.

  Kate didn’t say anything and only pressed her lips together firmer. Her eyes looked sunken and gaunt. Kate put the mask on over Hamish’s face.

  “I’ve got one problem,” Hamish said.

  “You’ve got more than that wrong with you,” Kate said.

  “I don’t know which room is Ian’s,” Hamish said.

  Z-MINUS: 3 hours 47 minutes

  The door creaked like the hinges had never seen an oilcan. The room was of the standard size, kitted out the same as the others – simple, clean, efficient. The bed was recently made and crisp with OCD. The room was sparse, with little in the way of personal effects.

  Hamish opened the cabinet drawers and found them empty. Next, he opened the wardrobe doors. The hangers rattled lightly from their hanging positions. No clothes or personal items?

  Hamish got to his knees and peered under the bed. He pulled out a single hard shell suitcase. He opened it, fumbling with his gloved hands on the zipper. The suitcase was full of clothes, perfectly folded. Various electronic devices stored carefully to one side. Clearly, Patrick couldn’t wait to get back home.

  There were pictures on the walls of desolate landscapes and forbidding places. The place hardly needed it. Just look out the window.

  The walls creaked and groaned under the overbearing wind. The structure of the building felt very weak. The wind would yank the roof off any second like a tin can’s lid.

  There was nothing to suggest the origins of a dangerous virus. It was an average room full of average things. Nothing obvious to suggest how the virus might have spread. Ian must have caught the virus elsewhere, from some other method.

  Hamish turned on his heel. Thunk! His foot met something. The bin. He turned away. Then something caught his eye. He peered inside the little bucket.

  A little figurine man stared up at him. It was made of plastic, with an oversized head. It was one of Dr. Scott’s bubbleheads. Clearly Ian hadn’t thought much of Dr. Scott’s parting gift. The bubblehead had a crack across the forehead and lay in a puddle of water.

  Hamish moved to the door.

  “Go into the next room,” Kate said from the end of the corridor. “There’s no one in there and you can make sure you don’t infect anyone in case something’s on you. Leave everything in there.”

  Hamish did as she said. He rejoined the others in the communal room.

  “Well?” Kate said.

  “Nothing,” Hamish said. “I didn’t find anything suspicious.”

  “Everywhere Ian went, Patrick went,” Kate said. “And he isn’t infected.”

  “Then where did he catch the virus?” Lindsey said.

  “I don’t know,” Hamish said. “Your guess is as good as mine. But you can begin by telling me everything you know about Dr. Scott’s disappearance. Somehow these two things are related. If we can figure out the linking factor we can figure out how the virus got started.”

  Z-MINUS: 3 hours 37 minutes

  “We only realized Dr. Scott was missing about two days after he disappeared,” Kate said.

  “How do you know it was two days?” Hamish said.

  “That was the last time anyone saw him with their own eyes,” Kate said.

  “Why didn’t someone notice he was gone sooner?” Hamish said.

  “Because he often locked himself in his room,” Kate said. “He’d often lock his door when he didn’t want to be disturbed, only coming out to eat and relieve himself, often during the wee hours. It was only a couple of days later, after he hadn’t eaten for nearly thirty-six hours or so that we started to get worried.

  “We knocked on his door and he didn’t answer. This wasn’t unusual, as he was often deep in the middle of whatever he was working on. He wouldn’t have noticed if the station was burning down around him. So we kept knocking. He still didn’t answer. We broke down the door, expecting him to be unconscious or dead on the floor. Instead, we found his room empty. We searched the station, each of the buildings, but found little sign of him.”

  “Except his Carhartts coveralls in the immersion shed?” Hamish said, thinking back to the evidence suggesting Dr. Scott had drowned himself.

  “Right,” Kate said.

  “Was he sick?” Hamish said.

  “Sick?” Kate said. “No. I don’t think so. Was he?”

  “No,” Patrick said. “That doesn’t mean he wasn’t, though. We didn’t notice anything suspicious. We’re all kind of absorbed with our own work.”

  Absorbed was the right word. Hamish had seen the near-obsessive behavior that consumed many scientists deep in research. They were single-minded, unable to think or enjoy anything else while they were doing it. It was like meditation, in a way. Or a spell. They were completely and totally absorbed by it, in their own little worlds. But he supposed that was what made this such a good place to work: it removed all distraction, made them focus entirely on what they were doing. Hamish was surprised any of them noticed anything at all.

  “But then Carl noticed Dr. Scott’s coveralls in the immersion shed,” Kate said. “It couldn’t have possibly been in there unless it was the last place he’d gone.”

  So, Dr. Scott had drowned himself. But why? And how did that have anything to do with Ian’s virus? None, that Hamish could see.

  Jeff came into the communal room.

  “How’s Ian?” Kate said, getting to her feet.

  “He’s all right,” Jeff said. “Stable, at least.”

  “Do you have any idea what’s wrong with him?” Hamish said.

  “No,” Jeff said. “It’s hard to pin down exactly what it is he has. One minute he has a high fever. The next, it’s so low I thought I’d left a window open. He sweats, he throws up, and then his muscles fidget and jerk uncontrollably. His eyes flicker behind his eyelids like he’s in the midst of REM sleep. He could have malaria, or something like it.”

  “Malaria?” Kate said. “Out here?”

  “I know how it sounds,” Jeff said. “But that’s what I’m seeing. It’s the last disease I’ve seen with th
ese symptoms.”

  “My God,” Daniel said. “Is it infectious?”

  “Trust you to think of yourself first,” Carl said.

  “Jeff just said Ian is stable,” Daniel said. “The next thing to worry about is us catching it, and trying to reduce the chances of that happening as much as possible.”

  “He’s right,” Kate said. “Hamish went into Ian’s room earlier. But he didn’t find anything suspicious.”

  “How long can a virus survive outside the body?” Carl said.

  “Viruses on hard surfaces can survive for up to twenty-four hours, on tissues for fifteen minutes,” Hamish said.

  “We’ll just have to quarantine ourselves for a day,” Daniel said.

  “That sounds fun,” Carl said.

  “We should send a message out as soon as we can,” Hamish said. “For someone to come pick us up.”

  “The storm interferes with our signal,” Patrick said. “I’ve been trying to get through to them since the storm began. But even if we could send a message they wouldn’t be able to get to us. Not with the storm as strong as it is.”

  “But they could arrive soon after the storm passes,” Lindsey said.

  “That’s not a bad idea,” Carl said.

  “Someone needs to be here to send a message,” Daniel said. “That way, if the storm dies down even for a few seconds there might be enough time for the rescue services to know we need help. They’d be on their way here even as the storm is blowing itself out. There would be no wasted time.”

  “That’s a great idea,” Kate said. She turned to Patrick. “Can you set it up?”

  “I can,” Patrick said.

  He turned to face the computer monitor and began tapping at the keys.

  “When is the Laurence M. Gould coming back to pick us up?” Hamish said.

  “In about two months,” Daniel said.

  “How long exactly?” Hamish said.

  Daniel closed his eyes and counted the days.

  “Fifty-nine days,” he said.

  “We’ve got plenty of food,” Hamish said.

  “Yes,” Daniel said. “But the truth is, the storm is unlikely to last that long. They generally blow themselves out within a couple of days.”

  “Then we just have to hope Ian’s condition doesn’t worsen in that time,” Hamish said.

  “What if it does?” Daniel said.

  “There’s nothing we can do anyway,” Hamish said. “We’ll just have to keep him comfortable as best we can. We’re scientists. I’m sure we can keep him comfortable for a day between us. We’ll keep watch on him, just in case he needs something.”

  “Yes,” Daniel said. “We should arrange a schedule, an hour each, and keep changing over so everyone gets a go and everyone can do their part. In the meantime, the rest of us just hang out, watch TV, do some work, if we can.”

  “I can’t believe this is happening,” Kate said. “One minute we’re fine, and then the next…”

  “You can’t plan for these kinds of things,” Jeff said. “All we can do is try and cope with them the best we can. We don’t want this virus spreading through the rest of us. We just have to be careful, and we’ll be fine.”

  Beep beep! Beep beep!

  Jeff glanced at his beeper.

  “What is it, Doc?” Kate said.

  Jeff said nothing, and rushed away, back to the infirmary.

  Outside, the wind howled. Something rapped against the window, but was gone a moment later. The storm was just beginning to kick up into high gear.

  Hamish had never felt so vulnerable his whole life.

  Z-MINUS: 3 hours 20 minutes

  “Restrain him!” Jeff shouted. “Now!”

  “I can’t!” Lindsey shouted. “He’s too strong!”

  “Use the tranquilizer!” Jeff said.

  “I did!” Lindsey cried. “But it’s not working!”

  Ian squirmed, his arms striking a metal table, knocking it to the floor. Lindsey knelt to pick up the pieces. Jeff grabbed Ian’s arms and held them tight to his torso.

  “You couldn’t have done it properly!” Jeff said. “Prepare another shot. I’ll administer it.”

  Hamish took a step inside the infirmary.

  “Don’t!” Jeff said. “Don’t come in here. He’s highly infectious. The more of us there are in here, the more likely it is to spread. Stay away.”

  “What about you?” Kate said.

  Jeff didn’t reply. He didn’t need to. Their friends were in danger, a flimsy door and a short command all that prevented them from coming to their aid.

  “What can we do to help?” Hamish said.

  “Just stay away,” Jeff said.

  Jeff turned to the patient. Ian’s head thrust forward and sprayed blood into Jeff’s face, over a wall, and Lindsey’s uniform. She and Jeff remained calm and professional. Jeff wiped away the blood so he could see, but before he could do anything more, Ian’s body turned rigid, arching up, trying to touch the ceiling with his hips. He fell back in bed. He lay still, unmoving, staring at the ceiling.

  Jeff bent down over him, checking his breathing, his pulse.

  “Lindsey, defibrillator, please,” he said.

  Lindsey wheeled it over and flipped the switches. Jeff applied the pads to Ian’s chest.

  “Clear,” Jeff said.

  The machine whirred, rising with a high pitch. He pumped the power into Ian. His body jerked.

  “Clear,” Jeff said.

  Zap!

  Five hundred volts slammed into the body. It jerked to one side, floppy appendages as responsive as a rag doll.

  “Clear,” Jeff said.

  He applied the pads again. The same response.

  “Come on, Ian,” Jeff said. “You’re still in there, I know it. Fight.”

  He hit the body with electricity again. Jeff let out a deep breath, shook his head, and wiped an arm across his forehead. He put the pads down. Lindsey turned the machine off.

  “Time of death, 3:38pm,” Jeff said.

  Kate gasped, clamping her hands over her mouth, eyes wide and shimmering with tears. Daniel took her in his arms.

  Jeff moved to the sink and washed his hands and face. He looked at himself in the mirror. He smacked the metal with his hands. He wiped the blood from his face with a towel. Lindsey pulled a blanket up over Ian’s body and face.

  And that was it for Hamish, what told him it was all over. The cold sterility of a white blanket placed over the body. Ian was no more.

  Z-MINUS: 3 hours 7 minutes

  Ian’s skin was pale, his features already turning blue. He lay on the cold unforgiving metal of a morgue-like tray behind Hamish’s work desk. A tag was attached to his big toe. There was something odd about that, something so impersonal, like labeling an item in a store on short-term sale. Jeff slid the drawer shut. Just another specimen.

  Kate’s eyes were sunken, her mouth turned down. Daniel wrapped an arm around her, kissing her on the top of the head.

  “Lindsey and I should get to our rooms,” Jeff said.

  “Why?” Kate said. “Are you showing signs of being infected?”

  “No, not yet,” Jeff said. “But it’s likely I was, what with Ian’s projectile blood vomiting. There’s a chance Lindsey isn’t infected. I’d prefer to keep her away from me until we’re certain one way or the other.”

  Kate nodded. She didn’t like it, but it made sense.

  “But I don’t want to be separated from you,” Lindsey said, pressing a hand to Jeff’s chest.

  “Neither do I,” Jeff said. “But there’s no other way round it. We have to keep separate. Only until we know whether we’re infected or not.”

  It was an intimate moment, and Hamish wasn’t the only one to avert his eyes.

  “I don’t like it,” Lindsey said.

  “You don’t have to like it,” Jeff said. “You just have to know that this is what we have to do. To keep you and the others safe. Just in case. When we’re certain we’re clean they’ll let us
out and we can be together again. But until then, I don’t want you to get infected accidentally. One of us has to get back to Robbie.”

  Lindsey nodded, though she was still upset.

  “All right,” she said.

  She stepped forward to hug Jeff, but he stepped back.

  “No skin to skin contact,” he said. “Not until we’re certain.”

  Lindsey clasped her hands together in front of herself, looking like a child who had been chastised and didn’t know what to do. Her eyes were glistening by the time they put her in her room. She looked from one person to the next, looking for the love she’d given them on countless occasions, but none of them could meet her eye.

  “You’ll be all right,” Jeff said.

  He closed the door on her. He let his shoulders relax. He thumbed a tear out the corners of his eyes, and then set to applying the lock on the door. He moved to the room opposite.

  “Would you like something to occupy your time?” Kate said. “A book or something?”

  “I wouldn’t be able to focus on it anyway,” Jeff said.

  He stepped inside the room, his prison, for the next twenty-four hours. He leaned in close and whispered in Hamish’s ear.

  “Don’t let Lindsey out,” he said. “No matter what she says or does. She might not be herself if the virus gets a hold of her. You’re new here and don’t know her as well as the others. You need to remain firm. Let everyone know everything is going to work out. Figure out a way to give her food safely if she is infected. When the rescue chopper gets here, they might be able to harness a cure for whatever the virus is. Until then, just keep the others alive.”

  “And if you’re not infected?” Hamish said.

  “Then there’s no problem,” Jeff said.

  But he didn’t sound like he put much stock in that outcome. He shut the door behind himself. Hamish applied the lock on the outside. It was one of the hardest things he’d ever had to do, not because he knew Jeff – he didn’t really – but because he was so obviously a great man who only wanted the best for everyone, even if it meant putting himself and his wife in uncomfortable circumstances. It was the type of heroics common among doctors, the type of person who sacrificed themselves, their time and energy and money into studying something that could only prove beneficial to others.