Rise (Book 3): Dead Inside

by Gareth Wood

  UBC Students Union building, October 4, 2004

  "No! Absolutely no! It's too dangerous," Todd said firmly.

  "But I need to get to my lab! The facilities here are just so primitive. I could make real progress if I could just get a sample under an electron microscope."

  "It's all the way across campus, Dr. Girenko! It's too far. We just don't have the weapons or the numbers of free people," Robyn told the elderly virologist.

  The three were standing near the Students Union building main doors. Outside, the rain had finally stopped. Months had passed since they had seen the sun, but the clouds outside looked like they might break up. Everyone was excited, and a crowd was gathering outside.

  "Give me a gun, then, and I'll go by myself," Elena said, grasping at any straws available. She had exhausted all avenues of research ages ago, and without access to her lab, her proper lab with its equipment and supplies, she was stumped. The office she was forced to use, with limited electricity and only a few instruments, was unfit for proper research.

  "We have only one gun, Doctor, and it's not mine to give away," Todd told her impatiently. "Robyn needs it for when she goes out to salvage supplies."

  "But—"

  "Another thing you should consider, Doctor," Robyn added civilly, "is that an electron microscope needs a fair amount of power to operate. How exactly did you plan on getting that power?"

  The electrical grid had failed months ago, along with everything dependent on it. Water no longer flowed in the pipes either. Everyone was back to stinking again.

  "The generator—" Elena began.

  "Is too big to move," Todd said. "And there isn't enough fuel to run an electron microscope for the hours and hours you'd need to see any results. I'm sorry, Doctor. It isn't going to happen."

  Elena ground her teeth together in frustration. Pain in her hands made her aware that she had clenched her fists, and that her nails were digging into her palms.

  "This is absurd!" Elena yelled at Todd, her eyes alight with anger, her face turning red. The look of surprise on his face was almost comical. "How am I supposed to find the reason for this outbreak? How do I isolate the virus if I can't access my equipment? Can't you see that this is a simple request? This is what's important, you simpleton! Not finding beer or making the toilets flush!"

  Seemingly on their own her small fists were beating Todd backward, bouncing off his chest as she raged. She wasn't hurting him, she simply wasn't strong enough for that. But she was making him back up.

  Robyn grabbed her arms, pulling her away from Todd. Elena stopped, realising what it was that she was doing. She was faculty, and here she was abusing a student. Never mind that he was obstructing her perfectly reasonable research needs, she was in a position of authority! What would the Board think? Would they revoke her teaching status? Suspend her from research?

  She backed away from Robyn and Todd, both of whom stared at her in shock. She barely heard when Todd spoke to her again.

  "Doc? You okay?"

  "I'm sorry," Elena muttered, and turned away.

  "Doctor? You look kind of pale," Robyn said.

  Elena ignored them as she drifted to a nearby bench. She sat heavily while staring at her hands, her thoughts uncertain. Why was I worried that they would suspend me? There is no Board anymore, and no faculty. Except for her, they were likely all dead. The only surviving students were all right here.

  Elena's mind turned inwards, seeking shelter in the familiar, looking at the problem from alternate perspectives. Without her equipment and her proper lab it was impossible to isolate whatever agent was causing the outbreak. She couldn't identify a virus with an optical microscope. Virii were simply too small to be seen that way. But a stray thought intruded; what if the cause wasn't a virus? What if they really were dead?

  "Doc? Doc, are you okay?"

  That was impossible, of course. Dead things simply didn't move around. It was against all logic and physical laws. Dead things had no energy to make tissues move on their own. So if it was true that they were dead, and that they were moving, then some agent was providing the energy. But what?

  Everything that Elena knew about virology told her that no virus could be behind what was happening. Viruses acted on living tissue to replicate themselves, they didn't reanimate dead flesh.

  Why didn't I see this before, she wondered. Why was I so certain that it was viral in cause?

  No answers came to her, only a new certainty that she had been wrong to look for a viral cause before. And if she'd been wrong about that, what did it leave? She'd have seen any bacteria in the blood samples on the optical microscope, but there was nothing unusual in the samples she'd obtained. In any case, no known bacteria animated dead tissues.

  "What happened? Why isn't she responding?"

  A prion disease perhaps? Elena knew very little about that field, but still discounted it quickly. Prion diseases were absolutely fatal, but well studied before this outbreak, and this was certainly not a prion disease.

  "Can you hear me, Doctor?"

  So, she thought, it's something new. Something that violated the laws of thermodynamics. Or did it only appear to violate them?

  It must be very small, she realised. Smaller than any bacteria, probably virus-sized, or I'd have seen it in my microscope. And again she was backed into a corner, as far as detection went.

  Could I bring the electron microscope here? She dismissed the idea as soon as she formed it. The device was simply too big for one person to move, and would take days to calibrate again. No, it was futile.

  "Hey, Doc! Snap out of it!"

  "Huh? What?" Elena looked up at a row of worried faces, all students watching her anxiously.

  "Are you alright?" Todd asked. "You went away for a minute there."

  "I'm perfectly alright. I need to get back to my lab." Elena stood up and began to push through the crowd.

  "Doc?"

  "I said I'm fine!" Elena walked away with her fists clenched, so that none of the students could see her hands shaking.

  CHAPTER TWENTY FOUR

  Mission Safe Zone, September 10, 2013

  Alexander picked up the telephone on his desk on the second ring. Essential Supplies did not exist in a vacuum, he reminded himself. It served the people of Mission. He preferred that it served him, but it was important to keep up appearances.

  It was the end of the day, a profitable day as well. A salvage company had brought in a medium-sized haul and he had his team making lists and hauling things away into the warehouse for most of the afternoon. It had been a simple matter to pick a few choice items off the dock, place them in a box and haul them to the back of the warehouse where he kept a pair of pallets under a tarp. Now it was late on a rainy evening. The night shift was starting to come in, gathering in the break room until just a few minutes before the scheduled hour. Most of his team were preparing to leave, only Bob and Alexander himself still working. There was a half hour between his shift leaving and the night crew starting. Alexander liked to be the last one out. It made it easier to retrieve his prizes from the tarp covered pallets unseen.

  "Hello?" A minor burst of static made him flinch. The telephones hadn't been what they once were for years. "Essential Supplies? This is Tony over at the hospital. How you doing?"

  Damn, Alexander thought. A call from the hospital at this hour meant that they needed something. He looked around to see his crew leaving out the warehouse door. Even Bob. He put as much charm into his voice as he could muster.

  "Just fine, Tony. What can I do for you?"

  "We need some supplies ASAP. We had a couple of medical emergencies today and need to replenish. You have a pen handy?"

  Alexander reached for his notepad and a pencil. ASAP meant just that, literally as soon as possible. He looked up to see that none of the night crew was ready to go yet, not for another twenty minutes at least.

  Damn, he thought again. He'd have to do it himself, a menial task he usually put on one of his worker
s. "Go ahead," he said, his pleasant tone showing no trace of his emptiness. When he had the list he went to the medical supply locker. Usually these items were just sent over to the hospital as they came in, but this week had been light until one of the salvagers had brought in some medications and an autoclave. A summary had been sent to the hospital and they had just asked for about half of it.

  Looking at the shelf full of pills and bandages and scalpels, Alexander decided to take all of it. It would save him future trouble to just take it all over now. He packed everything into boxes and loaded his truck, just finishing as the night crew started to leave the break room. Alexander ignored the hellos and left, climbing into his ES truck.

  The ride over was going to be aggravating, he knew, because he was going to be constantly distracted. What he wanted was to take his new prizes home, but that wasn't going to happen now, oh no, because some sick people had to have their antibiotics. His hands clenched and twisted on the steering wheel with worry.

  He wouldn't get the chance to remove his secreted treasures until tomorrow night now, and that might be a problem. Alexander doubted the night shift would find his tarp-covered pallets, since they were in a seldom used area of the warehouse, and his opinion of their observational skills was minimal. But if they did find his things, it would be trouble. The penalties for theft in the Safe Zone were severe and it might lead back to him if the pallets were discovered.

  Only a few blocks from the warehouse Alexander reached into his coat pocket for his house keys. He planned to go directly home from the hospital, to waste as little of his precious time as possible. His keys weren't there. Frantically trying to remember where he'd put them, Alexander pulled the truck over. A quick check of all his pockets confirmed that he didn't have his keys.

  Did I put them on my desk, he wondered, or drop them somewhere?

  He pulled the truck around, annoyed at the waste of time. This was Tony's fault. If the hospital hadn't called for supplies so late, Alexander could have sent someone else. Now he had to waste his time going back to the warehouse to find his keys.

  I need to practice what to say, he thought, knowing that he would need to act 'normally' when he went back inside. He pulled the truck over to the sidewalk just before the parking lot entrance and shut off the lights and engine. He sat quietly, calming himself down before facing normal people again. It wouldn't have to be for long. He just had to find his keys and he could leave.

  Breathing slowly, Alexander thought about what to say. "Just looking for my keys," he repeated several times, until it felt right. He tried adding a frown to it, and then a smile. The smile seemed to work better, he thought. Finally ready once again, while the rain made tiny sounds of impact on the truck windshield, he reached for the ignition.

  What is that? His fingers froze as he looked along the bay doors of the warehouse. Out of the farthest one from the entrance he was parked by, a shadow emerged. He reached for the binoculars he kept in the glove box, focused them on the figure that jumped down to the ground and made for the brush nearby. Was it a thief? Someone stealing from ES to supplement a minimal allotment of supplies? The very thought caused Alexander a certain amount of distress; Essential Supplies was his! And yet, when he focused on the retreating figure, he was shocked to realise it was the deputy he had met yesterday. Hothi, that was the man's name. Mannjinder Hothi.

  Alexander put the binoculars down and sat back, an icy calm descending on his mind. A Sheriff's deputy had just snuck out of the warehouse, after the day shift was over. It could only mean one thing; somehow he had made a mistake, and the pathetic law enforcement of this little community was onto him. The deputy had been there to keep an eye on him. Was he being watched? Were the Sheriff and his men waiting to pounce once Alexander returned home?

  Probably not, he reasoned. The Sheriff wasn't nearly clever as Alexander himself was. So, was it time to leave? Was it time to pull out of this absurd community of sheep and flee to some other little town, only to start all over again? Was it?

  Alexander realised that he was comfortable here in Mission. It was similar to how he 'felt' about property. To start again in some place new, where the people didn't acknowledge him as one of the ruling elite, would grate on him. He considered ES to be his, to do with as he pleased. Mission itself was close to being his as well. Once he had a seat on the Council it would all fall before him like a house of cards.

  The deputy hadn't reported back yet, had he? There was still a chance, then. If he could intercept the deputy he could prevent the Sheriff from becoming suspicious immediately and possibly buy some time to plan. If the Sheriff was suspicious he'd have to be eliminated, and any deputies he had shared those suspicions with. A plan began to form in Alexander’s mind, a good plan that would place him on top when the dust settled.

  To begin with, Deputy Hothi, he thought. I can take care of this right now.

  Once the figure of the deputy was out of sight he started the engine and backed down the road, leaving the headlights off. There were only a few roads back here in the industrial area between the river and the highway. If the deputy had parked a truck back there somewhere a block or so away, it should be easy to find.

  Alexander turned onto a side street, then down an alleyway. In the darkness it was just possible to guide his truck by the reflected light of the Safe Zone streetlights off the rain clouds. The light was very dim, but enough. The streets had been cleared of debris and wrecks years ago, and very little had blown in other than leaves every autumn. He steered along the streets and alleys, certain that he would find his prey sooner rather than later.

  CHAPTER TWENTY FIVE

  Mission Safe Zone, September 10, 2013

  Deputy Hothi waited in the dim recesses of the Essential Supplies warehouse for the shift change before he crept out of his hiding place atop a pallet of fertilizer. He almost sneezed from the unsettled dust, but managed to suppress it in time. When his feet were on the concrete floor again he walked around the end of one aisle and over to the pallets he had seen Corrone placing items onto.

  He knelt to examine the pallets, tarp-covered and relatively free of dust, hidden away in a quiet corner of the facility, almost unseen in the gloom. He lifted a corner of the first pallet and looked underneath. Tucked inside were DVDs and bandages, a small bottle of whiskey, a bottle of painkillers, several boxes of .45 handgun ammunition, and a cordless drill with rechargeable batteries, still in its case.

  "So that's what you're up to," he breathed, almost a whisper. Clearly Corrone had been skimming off the incoming salvage, putting things aside for himself. Everything he had set aside would bring a good price at the market, and the medical supplies were supposed to go to the hospital as a first priority. Hothi quickly made notes then tucked the small pad into his coat. Checking his watch he saw that he had only a few minutes until the shift started.

  I'd better get out of here, he thought. He had enough evidence of wrongdoing now to investigate Alexander Corrone far more closely. The man was clearly a thief. Abusing his position of trust was going to cost the man dearly, Hothi felt. The punishments dealt for theft were severe, since the constant need for supplies required risk of death to obtain. If convicted, Corrone would be left outside the Wall without any weapons or equipment and told never to return. If he survived.

  Hothi was aware that outside the Wall his authority meant little, and that the salvagers could, and probably did, set things aside for themselves before they turned anything in. But that wasn't his problem, since the Sheriff and the Council never claimed any authority over what happened outside. It was only what happened inside that mattered. And inside the Wall, what Corrone had done was a crime.

  The deputy made his way toward the front of the warehouse along the northern wall, well away from the office and breakroom. He approached the last open bay door and stepped through, climbing down once he was sure nobody had seen him. The rain falling outside masked the noise of his feet hitting the ground, and he looked around briefly before
walking to the edge of the lot and passing through the plants there. From there it was a brisk five minute walk to his bicycle, parked hours ago behind an empty building a few blocks away from the warehouse. This area had an air of long abandonment, having seen little use since the Wall went up. Many of the buildings had been boarded up to protect them from the elements, and for future use. Light industrial was the term for the style of structures, long blocks of single-story offices with low-ceiling warehouse space in back. In the time before these had housed small construction outfits, bakeries, and shipping and receiving companies. Now they stood with black windows and the electrical and water supplies all shut off.

  He reached his bicycle without incident, and simply wasn't expecting any trouble. He was relieved that he had listened to his instincts; they had led him to a thief, and it was a crime he could do something about. Yes, it was serious, and Corrone wouldn't be trusted with any really important job after this, but the man had taken advantage of his position for selfish reasons. He'd be punished, but if he stuck to the straight and narrow path after this he'd be allowed to stay and survive. Why anyone would want to risk being sent out into the wastelands was beyond the deputy. It was terrible outside the Wall, what the Christians called Hell on Earth. Not pleasant at all.

  Hothi had been outside the Wall several times, and each time had desperately wanted to get back inside as soon as possible. The dead rising in a cannibalistic orgy of species annihilation was just not something he could comprehend. His heart was sick with worry and panic whenever he left the Safe Zone, a reaction he knew was irrational, like the fear some people had of spiders or hornets. For Hothi, the world beyond the Wall was one to fear, not one to explore. Mission felt very much outside of all that, a world apart from the chaos and despair of the wild.

  Strapped to his bicycle frame was a thermos, filled this morning with hot herbal tea. He opened it and drank directly from the bottle. It wasn't hot any longer, but warm. It helped to chase away the chill of the rain. From a bag, also strapped to the frame, he pulled a sandwich made from locally made bread, cheese, and ham. After sitting on top of dusty pallets all day Hothi was famished. Once he had eaten he decided he was ready to go. Everything was packed up again in moments, and he climbed onto his seat and began to pedal.