Surprised at this, I complied. I pulled up my right sleeve, which was the one the creature had indicated, and underneath the cloth I saw a familiar sight. It looked a lot like gangrene, but instead of the bluish-green creep of gangrenous tissue necrosis, these lines were darker and much more defined, almost like a tattoo.
“Ah hell. So that’s why you haven’t killed me. I’m already dead.”
The match went out, and Donnie Sims shuffled back a few feet to squat again in the dark. It was silent for a few more moments, and then it spoke, once more in the calliope voice. “Actually, I don’t want to eat you, no, not at all. That would be a singular waste, yes, yes indeed. And this—well, this just won’t do. The both of us, Scratch, we’re both pawns in something far greater than this current…” he paused, as if searching for the right word, “…quest, you’re on. And I, for one, have an interest in keeping you alive.”
“I’ll be dead within the day. Looks like you failed.” I was infected, and I knew it. Once the infection took hold, it spread and nothing could stop it. No amount of antibiotics or medicines could halt the spread of deader venom, once it got in your system. I figured I must’ve been bit when I took that thing under the water back at the pit. Hadn’t even noticed it in the struggle.
“On the contrary, I believe I’ve succeeded.” The thing perked up, cocking his head sideways again. “Yes, yes indeed. Help should be arriving shortly.” Donnie Sims turned and paused, and I thought I saw it looking back over its shoulder. “My advice to you is to say yes.” It scrambled off into the night.
I sat there, propped up against the tree, and considered my fate. I’d killed almost a hundred of the greater occult species, only to get offed by a deader. I laughed softly at my predicament and closed my eyes. I’d be no use to Gabby and Doc now.
Then, I heard a familiar voice. “Scratch, is that you?” It was Bobby, and I could hear him crawling through the brush toward me.
“Yeah, it’s me. What’s left of me, anyway.”
“You look like hell, boss.”
I smirked at that, knowing he could see my face despite the lack of light. “How’d you find me?”
Bobby chuckled. “When you didn’t show up, I tracked you back to the compound and to that pit. It took me a while, because there were militia all over the place and it confused the scent.” He stopped for a moment, as if searching for an apology. “Anyway, by the time I figured out where they’d taken you, it was already dark. I sniffed around and noticed that the soldiers had gone in that house, but when I went in, it was a slaughterhouse in there. I’ve never seen anything like it. Whatever killed them, it didn’t look like it did it for food—it looked like it did it for fun. I followed the blood trail here, and found you.”
I barked a short laugh, realizing that the thing that called itself Donnie Sims had purposely led Bobby here. “Well, I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but you’re about a dollar short and a day late. I’m infected. Happened down in that pit with the deaders.”
Bobby plopped down under the tree and let out a long breath. “Shit. Shit! No way man, no way I’m lettin’ you go deadhead on us. Uh-uh, no freaking way.” I heard him duck-walk over to me. “Show me the bite.”
“Bobby, there’s nothing you can do. I’ve seen a million of these bites, and it always ends the same. I’m done for, and there’s nothing that can be done for it, so don’t go blaming yourself for my screw-up.”
Bobby growled, and I swear his eyes glowed in the dark. “Show it to me!” The kid could be scary when he wanted, that was for sure. Not wanting to spend my last moments getting pummeled by a ’thrope, I pulled up my sleeve and exposed the bite for him.
I could see, or maybe sense him nod in the dark. “This is gonna’ hurt.” Then, before I could react he grabbed my wrist and laid the bite open with a single swipe of one of his razor sharp claws. I won’t lie, it hurt like hell, but all I could do was just sit there; I had no fight left in me. Then I heard him tear open the flesh of his own arm with his teeth, and soon I felt hot wet fluid dripping into the gash he’d created over the deader bite.
As Bobby’s blood hit the open wound, it felt like someone had driven a red-hot poker into the flesh of my arm. I gasped, and then it felt like that fire was moving slowly up my arm, spreading throughout my body. I started convulsing, my arm and back muscles and jaw clenching as I arched against the tree.
I fought between jagged breaths to mouth out a question. “What…did you…just do?”
Bobby pulled me away from the tree, and cradled my head in his lap, turning me on my side slightly in case I vomited. “If we’re lucky, my blood will fight off the Z venom. If so, you just might live. I’ve seen this done once, but it was done by my alpha. So, I have no idea whether or not it’ll work with my blood.”
The spasms began to subside, and I started shivering uncontrollably. “If you turned me into a ’thrope, I’m going to kick your ass.”
Bobby laughed. “Hah! This is nowhere near what you have to go through to become a pack member. For that, you have to die—I mean, your heart has to literally stop in order for the ’thrope blood to take over. No, you’ll just have a bad hangover in the morning. If it works.”
I shivered and curled into a ball, partially because I was suddenly freezing, and partly because my stomach was clenching up like I’d just been punched in the diaphragm. “Great,” I managed to choke out.
Bobby chuckled again and picked me up in his arms, crouching as he left the cover of the juniper thicket. “Yeah, well, you’re not out of the woods yet. Probably best to haul ass back to where the Doc and Gabby are waiting on us and let her check you out.” Mercifully, I passed out as he took off at a dead run toward the Facility.
· · ·
I awoke in a hospital bed, in a concrete room that was illuminated with fluorescent lights. The walls were painted a light green color, which was a dead giveaway that I was in what once had been a military facility. My eyes were gummed shut and I felt weak and hungry. I must’ve been out for a few days, at least.
I looked over and saw Gabby crashed out in an office chair by the bed. I was hooked up to a machine that was monitoring my vitals, and had an IV running into each arm. I looked under the sheets and noted that I was wearing a hospital gown and not much else. Great. At least I was still alive and in full control of my faculties.
My shuffling around must’ve roused the kid, because she sat up and looked at me like I’d just returned from the dead. Then she gave me the sort of sweet smile that only a kid can muster in the worst of times. “Well, I guess we won’t have to shoot you.”
I chuckled, but it came out more like a wheeze. My mouth and throat felt like I’d been on a three-week bender in Cabo, after drinking the water. “Thanks for the sentiment, kid,” I croaked out. “Where are my clothes?”
She wrinkled her nose. “Oh, we had to burn them. Captain Perez said there was no salvaging them.”
I tried to sit up, managed to get up on one elbow, and then flopped back down on the bed in defeat. I sighed. “Please tell me that you at least saved my moccasins.”
Gabby laughed and winked at me, whispering behind her hand. “I snuck them out of the trash pile and cleaned them up for you.”
I dropped my head back on the pillow. “Thanks, kid. Where’s Doc?”
She shrugged. “Probably yelling at Bobby again. They don’t get along so well.”
“Any food around here? I’m starved.”
“Yeah, but I’d better go get Captain Perez. She asked me to let her know as soon as you woke up.”
The kid left the room and I drifted off again. When I next awoke, Captain Perez was checking my vital signs. She smirked at me. “So, you decided to rejoin the land of the living. About time.”
I started pulling out tubes and removing wires. “Food. Clothes. Weapons. Not necessarily in that order.”
The Doc stomped over to the bedside and placed her hand on my chest, easily forcing me back down on the bed. “Whoa there, ranger. Y
ou’re a few days away from being well enough to leave this facility, and it’ll be another day or so before you’re strong enough to get out of bed. Let’s start with food, and see how you do from there, alright?” She started fussing around with the I.V. tubes, fixing the damage that I’d done and resecuring the lines with medical tape.
I grimaced and laid my head back down. Fact was, even that small bit of activity had made me feel weak. “I suppose I have little choice in the matter. Fine.”
She turned to the kid. “Gabby, can you bring our patient here something to eat from the mess?”
She came to attention and snapped off a salute. “Aye, aye, sir!”
We both shouted after her in unison, “Only Marines say that!”
I chuckled and shut my eyes for a moment. “What saved me? Bobby’s blood, or your hoodoo?”
“Thus far, Bobby’s blood and some I.V. antibiotics seem to be doing the trick. From what I can guess, whatever factors are present in lycanthrope blood that allow for their tremendous healing abilities are what’re responsible for your recovery. I decided to administer the antibiotics as well, just in case.”
I nodded and sighed. “Kid saved my life.”
She smiled, a rare sight in the short time I’d known her. “Well, you saved his first, so I believe he sees it as a fair trade.” She tilted her head, as if unsure whether to continue. “He fairly worships you, you know. I think you’ve taken the place of his alpha, in the absence of his pack.”
I harrumphed. “Some alpha I turned out to be. Walked right into that ambush.”
The Doc shrugged. “So did I, and I’m not without certain skills myself.”
I cocked an eyebrow. “Was that a Liam Neeson reference?”
She nodded. “We have a DVD library here in the Facility. Gabby has been catching up on 21st and 20th century culture, in fact. She seems to particularly enjoy Firefly. I think she has a crush on Mal.”
I shook my head. “Well, I can’t say I’m against her having a chance to be a kid for once. Speaking of which, we need to talk about your super-serum.”
She tilted her head in response. “I’m listening.”
I struggled to lift myself further upright with my elbows, but the Doc saved me the trouble by cranking the head of the bed up to about 45 degrees. I nodded. “That’s better, thanks. Now, about that serum; I need to know how it works and what it’s going to do to me long-term. Are there any side effects? Am I going to want to start eating human flesh, or hunting little bunnies in the woods late at night?”
She smiled at the last bit, and shook her head. “No, I think the local rabbit population is safe, outside of your normal hunting activities. Gabby has lived under my observation for several years post-serum administration, and she has exhibited zero side effects beyond the intended increases in her strength, speed, and stamina.”
I closed my eyes and thought for a moment before responding, wanting to make certain I worded my next question as tactfully as possible. “And in your opinion, has the serum lowered her inhibitions toward violence at all?”
“You mean, is she a murderer?” I looked her in the eye and nodded. A dark look crossed her face for a moment, and then it was gone. “No, not at all. At least, she’s no more of a killer than what living in a world like this calls for. She’s seen some things, Scratch, but Gabby’s no cold-blooded killer.”
I closed my eyes again and sighed. “I think I messed up.”
“You mean what happened on the way back to your settlement.” I nodded. “Scratch, Gabby has killed before. Her uncle taught her how to survive in this world, long before you met her. Sure, she has her moments; hormones and overwhelm will do that. But she’s as resilient a child as I have ever known. Trust me, she’ll be okay. You haven’t scarred her for life.”
I opened my eyes with no small amount of struggle. “That’s good to know. But no kid should have to do something like that. I should’ve known better.”
The Doc tsked. “Maybe in the old world, before the War, that might have been true. But in this world? I prefer that children be equipped to fend for themselves. Gabby is no exception. It’s not your fault the world is a mess right now, so stop blaming yourself for what you can’t change. You did what was necessary to achieve an objective. That’s all.”
I disagreed, but decided to change the subject. “Gabby has abilities that are far beyond those of a normal teen. If I had to guess, I’d put her physical abilities at the level of an elite adult decathlete. I can’t imagine what a terror she’ll be as an adult.” The captain cocked an eyebrow at me, so I course-corrected. “Speaking figuratively, of course.” That seemed to pacify her, so I continued. “What I want to know is, how does it work?”
“Put simply, it’s very advanced gene therapy. The serum causes changes at the cellular level throughout the body, providing increases in limit strength, power, speed, work capacity, immune function—virtually all aspects of your physiology are affected.”
I nodded slowly. “What are the risks of rejection?”
The Doc shook her head. “Almost nil. The treatment is delivered via a combination of retroviral, liposomal, and naked DNA vector transmission, giving it a very strong chance it will take.”
“I vaguely remember that cancer can be a side effect of certain types of gene therapy. What are my chances of developing cancerous growths in years to come?”
She pursed her lips and squinted. “Minimal. The alterations in immune function caused by the gene therapy reduce the chance of subjects developing malignancies to an estimated 1-in-100,000. But of course, those numbers are merely conjectural.”
I whistled. “So, what you’re telling me is that this treatment effectively eliminates the common risks associated with gene therapy, by nature of the mutations triggered by the treatment?”
“Yes. And, might I add, I’m impressed with your medical knowledge. You’re pretty smart for a hick cowboy grunt.”
I shrugged. “I had plans to enter a physician’s assistant program before the War, so I took a lot of science pre-reqs before the shit hit the fan. Figured it’d never come in handy again, what with the world being bombed back into the Stone Age and all.”
She nodded. “What I can tell you is, if your body doesn’t outright reject the treatment, there’s quite a good chance that you’ll live a long and very healthy life.”
I mulled it over. From the way it sounded, and based on what I’d observed in the short time I’d spent with Gabby, there were a whole lot of upsides to taking these treatments, and not a lot of downsides to it. I needed every advantage I could get if I was going to go up against the Corridor ’thrope pack. And, if I were to be honest, circumstances had decided it for me. I nodded to myself. “So, how soon can I start treatments?”
She looked me dead in the eye. “Within a few days. It’ll help speed your recovery, but I want to give your system a chance to flush out any antibodies you received from being exposed to Bobby’s blood.”
“I need to be out of here just as soon as I’m strong enough to walk.”
The Doc sniffed at that. “I figured as much, but believe me when I say you need your rest. At least give me a day or two to monitor you before the treatment, just to make sure your body doesn’t reject it.”
“Doc, you and I both know that I’m up against the clock.”
“True, but I’m still not initiating those treatments until I’m sure you’re in decent health. As I said, a few days—perhaps four at most.”
I grunted and pointed my finger in her face. “Then you damn sure better have orange Jello in this place, or else I’ll be notifying my attorneys.”
· · ·
3
ARMOR
By the end of the week, the Doc had started me on the treatment protocol. It was no picnic. There were multiple deep tissue injections, bone marrow taps, spinal taps; I soon felt like a voodoo doll that’d been left to the attentions of a sadist witch doctor with a needle fetish. Captain Perez seemed to enjoy the process, and
it made me wonder what I’d gotten myself into by teaming up with her. Too late to turn back now, I reflected.
Despite the unpleasantness of the process, I could tell that the treatments sped up my recovery. Some days I almost had to pinch myself, because by rights I should’ve ended up being a walking corpse. I tried thanking Bobby on more than one occasion, but each time I had tried he’d nervously mumble something about not mentioning it and make himself scarce. I finally figured out that the kid wasn’t good with accepting gratitude, which was not surprising, considering how he’d spent most of his formative years. I reflected that if I had been raised by wolves, I’d probably be socially awkward as well. So I left it alone.
The treatments went on for more than a week, and I gradually started becoming something less of a paranormal species, but more than human. Over the course of the first several days I began noticing changes in my senses. Nothing startling, but I could definitely hear more clearly. I’d lost part of my hearing in my left ear when I had taken that shrapnel hit in the ‘Stan, and had forgotten what it was like to have full hearing in both ears. My hearing wasn’t the only thing back; I began picking up sounds that had once been too faint to detect—heartbeats, for example, or the rustle of a cockroach crawling over a piece of paper.
I was noticing changes in my sense of smell as well. My nose was picking up odors I’d never noticed before, like Bobby’s wet dog smell, or the oil on a door latch across the room. There were a few times I went into sensory overload, so I took to wearing earplugs and stuffing cotton up my nostrils when it became too much to deal with. Within days, however, I discovered some sort of internal shutoff switch, which the Doc said was really just my brain filtering out background sounds and smells on a subconscious level.
THEM (Season 1): Episode 4 Page 2
