Virals tb-1

by Kathy Reichs

  The room quieted. Feigning absorption in John Milton, I turned my attention to cyberspace.

  Two avatars lurked. The image of Napoleon Dynamite was Hi. Shelton was represented by the Abominable Snowman eating a giant robot. Don’t ask.

  My own avatar—a gray wolf done in black and white—was the only other character present.

  Hi had already posted.

  Napoleon: Where did you go? You freaked me out!!!

  Moving ever so discreetly, I replied.

  Wolf: Nurse. Kept quiet, but something’s wrong with me. Bad!

  Napoleon: Me too! Not just flu. Weird things.

  Snowman: I’m worse. Going crazy!

  I glanced to the left. Shelton’s foot was tapping like he was playing Rock Band on expert.

  To the right. Hi’s jacket was off, his top button undone. He was wheezing like an ancient and scratching his arms.

  Hope packed up and headed out the door. My illness wasn’t isolated. We’d caught something together. Something nasty.

  I typed fast, watching Mr. Edde with one eye.

  Wolf: Need to meet. Today. Bunker. Not a word until then.

  Fingers danced on both sides of me. Willing Mr. Edde to stay engrossed in his puzzle, I dropped my eyes.

  Snowman: Too sick. Getting scared. May tell Mom.

  Napoleon: No bathroom in the bunker. Problem.

  I felt a prickle of irritation. Didn’t they realize the source of the illness? We couldn’t tell our parents. Not with Karsten watching.

  My fingers flew across the screen.

  Wolf: Must talk first, sick or not! In private. Bunker. After school. Super important.

  Wolf: Say NOTHING! Not even to each other!

  Mr. Edde lowered the front legs of his chair, a sure sign he was retiring the crossword. Conversation over.

  I dropped my cell into my purse. Hi slipped his into his front pocket. I raised an eyebrow. Well?

  Hi ran both hands through his hair, pretended to pull it out. Then nodded.

  Shelton squirmed, frowned, dipped his chin curtly.

  All aboard.

  Now to get through the day. One class at a time.

  A light breeze meandered the marina, carrying with it the scent of salt water, hydrangeas, and diesel fuel. On the harbor, sails flashed white in the afternoon sun.

  The heat and humidity both hovered around ninety. Not a day for the great outdoors.

  Upon boarding the shuttle, Hi and Shelton had headed straight for the semi-air-conditioned cabin. We hadn’t talked since second period, wouldn’t until we reached the privacy of the bunker.

  Neither seemed happy, but they hadn’t rebelled. Yet. I’d get an earful later, no question about that.

  I chewed a thumbnail, repeatedly scanned the dock. Where was Ben? I hadn’t seen him since biology. He’d missed both of the afternoon classes we shared.

  Ben’s continuing good health was my ace in the hole. If he succumbed, hello panic.

  As if on cue, Ben came loping down the dock. Mr. Blue shoved off the second his son’s shoes hit the deck.

  “Welcome aboard, sir. Shall I show you to your cabin?”

  Ignoring my joke, Ben dropped onto the stern bench, stretched his legs, and leaned back.

  I waited. There was no rushing Ben.

  Finally, he spoke. “I feel like three-day-old spit.”

  Crap.

  “What’s wrong?”

  “Everything. My head hurts, my lungs, my feet, even my teeth. It makes no sense.”

  It made terrifying sense.

  “And that’s not the worst of it.”

  As he talked, Ben watched our wake vee back toward the city. Above it, gulls swooped and bobbed, anxious for scraps.

  “My body’s out of whack. I keep going in and out of some kind of trance.

  “Yesterday, in my garage, my heart went apeshit, and I felt flames race through my veins. I started to fall, so I grabbed some metal shelving nailed to the wall.”

  Ben avoided my eyes. “My dad has an old Z28 engine he’s using to restore a Camaro. Anyway, the shelving came loose and the engine started to fall on me.”

  Ben’s eyes finally met mine. “That thing weighs a ton. I could’ve been killed.”

  “What happened?”

  “I caught it.” Disbelief. “The heat flashed, I reached up, and I caught the frickin’ engine. I even placed it back on the shelf.” Ben sounded as though he’d replayed the scene again and again in his mind.

  “That’s impossible, right?”

  “No,” I said gently. “I have a lot to tell you.”

  CHAPTER 42

  Coop nipped my fingers, wanting to play. Not a good time. I’d just spilled my guts. About everything.

  Well, almost.

  “So that’s what happened. At least, that’s what I remember.”

  “You could see patterns on the fly’s wings?” Shelton asked. “From across the house?”

  “And a billion little lenses making up its eye.”

  “That beats my attack.” Shelton’s sport coat rested on his lap. I’d been afraid of losing the boys if they went inside to change. “My vision blurred, so I took my glasses off. Whammo: 20/20. For a few seconds, anyway.”

  “I felt normal until yesterday,” Ben said. “Then it hit me like a freight train. No sonic hearing or super-smells, just weird cravings. Impulses. And my mind scrambles.”

  “Anything else?” I asked.

  “At times, my limbs feel like they’re on fire. When the burning fades, I’m strong, like I could blast through walls.” He shook his head. “Then I throw up, pass out, it all goes bad.”

  “I’ll take that over my symptoms,” Hi said. “I can’t leave the throne for more than a few minutes. And I must’ve fainted at least twenty times.” He pointed at me. “You talk about smells? I got slammed while eating cream cheese. I’ll never touch the stuff again.”

  Without question, Hi had been the sickest. He’d suffered every misery imaginable.

  “It’s like I was food-poisoned while suffering from malaria and poison ivy,” Hi grumbled. “And brain fever. And get this. From my roof deck, I watched a mouse creep through the grass on the common. I could see his earwax from fifty yards out. Worst part was, I wanted to eat the little bugger.” Hi rubbed his forehead. “Just for a second, though! I swear!”

  “I understand. Raw hamburger, remember?” I shuddered. “And you saw me try to snatch Herbie.”

  Hi nodded.

  Though I kept a brave face, inside I shivered. Hi’s story reminded me of the one thing I hadn’t disclosed.

  I wasn’t ready to talk about golden eyes.

  “Sometimes I hear the smallest noises.” Shelton tugged one earlobe. “Yesterday morning, the freaking power lines woke me up. I could hear the electricity. And the fits burst on and off without warning. Just a pop in my head, then bang!” Pause. “I’m getting tired of blacking out.”

  Silence crammed the bunker.

  I pushed to my feet. Resolved to put it out there.

  “We’ve caught a disease.”

  Hi and Shelton slumped. Ben tensed, fingers curled into fists.

  “There’s no point kidding ourselves,” I went on. “Each of us had different experiences, but our symptoms are too similar to ignore.”

  I ticked off points by raising fingers. “Fatigue. Headache. Nausea. Fever. Congestion. Hot flashes. Cold sweats. Spiking pains.”

  “Blackouts,” said Hi. “It all comes back to the blackouts.”

  Ben and Shelton nodded.

  “Blackouts,” I agreed, only one finger still curled to my palm. “And what they trigger. Our senses go into overdrive. It’s like our minds snap briefly, then get ... confused.”

  Can’t say crazy. Or primal. Not yet.

  “I’ve never heard of anything like this,” said Ben.

  “And whatever it is, we can’t control it,” said Hi.

  I hesitated. Once spoken, the next words could not be withdrawn.

  “I
think we caught something from Coop.”

  Silence. Then, three voices at once.

  “How is that possible?” Ben.

  “You said we couldn’t catch parvo!” Shelton.

  “We’re screwed!” Hi.

  “I don’t know what happened. But Coop must be the vector; he’s our only common link.” I turned to Shelton. “Canine parvovirus can’t infect humans. I double-checked. It has to be something else.”

  “What?’

  “I don’t know. But we won’t panic.” I tried to sound confident. “It may not be serious.”

  “Do you even have a guess?” Shelton asked.

  “No,” I admitted. “I won’t lie. I’ve never heard of anything resembling our condition. Whatever we’ve caught must be extremely rare.”

  “Great,” Hi said. “A magical mystery virus. Lucky us! The very first Virals.”

  “Karsten’s experiment.” Ben frowned. “The secret tests. We don’t know what he was doing.”

  I nodded. “But we’re going to find out.”

  The boys stared.

  I soldiered on. “We should lay low for a few more days, get stronger. And keep our condition secret. I don’t think we’re contagious.”

  “Why not?” Shelton looked skeptical.

  “No one else has gotten sick, at home or at school. But let’s keep to ourselves just in case. If this thing is contagious, we don’t want to spread it.”

  “Keep it secret?” Shelton’s voice rose even higher. “We could be dying!”

  Gulp. Here goes.

  “Karsten knows we stole Coop.”

  “What!?” In chorus.

  I told them about my interview. All of it. Karsten’s accusations. Why he’d questioned our health.

  Three shocked faces.

  “So we can’t see a doctor,” I said. “Karsten will be looking for that.”

  “Why didn’t you say anything?” Ben sounded angry.

  “I’m sorry. I didn’t want to cause panic. Besides, Karsten has no evidence.” Lame. I knew it.

  Hi dropped his head.

  Shelton opened his mouth.

  I cut him off.

  “Just hold out a few more days. If we don’t improve, we’ll get medical help. Promise.”

  Shelton flashed a peace sign. “Two days. That’s it. Then I’m telling my mom.”

  “Good enough.”

  “Say we do recover.” Hi was looking from me to Shelton to Ben. “What then?”

  I spoke with grim determination.

  “Then we find out what the hell Karsten is up to.”

  CHAPTER 43

  I slammed my locker door.

  Lunchtime.

  Shelton and Hi intercepted me en route to the cafeteria. We trudged down the hall, a sorry-looking group.

  The morning had begun with a school-wide assembly. Speakers had droned on about the need for energy conservation. I thought I’d qualify for Medicare before they finished.

  The four of us had huddled near the back, breathing only on ourselves. Nervous. Hoping to avoid infecting the entire student body.

  Because of the program, both lunch periods had been combined for a special buffet menu. Organically grown vegetables. Free-range chicken. For the first time that year I hadn’t packed a lunch.

  Shelton still felt lousy. So did Hi. No new reactions, but the lingering sickness did nothing for their spirits.

  I felt crappy too, but kept it to myself. At least I hadn’t attacked another rodent.

  Ben was waiting at the cafeteria entrance. We entered as a group.

  The line was long, but moved quickly. After purchasing our selections we commandeered a table in one corner, near an emergency exit.

  I dug into the veggies. Carrots. Snap peas. Buttered asparagus. If this option became standard, I’d never brown bag again.

  I was chasing a pea across my plate when a strangled whine interrupted my thoughts. I looked up just as Shelton dropped his fork. His hands flew to his head and his lids slammed shut.

  “No,” he muttered. “Not here.”

  “Shelton, are you—”

  The clatter of Ben’s fork caused me to turn.

  Ben’s eyes were vacant. Spit bubbles foamed at one corner of his mouth.

  “Ben?” I said softly.

  No response.

  “Hey! Blue!” A little louder.

  Across the table, Hi dropped his utensils.

  “Chicken,” he whispered. Then his hand shot out and swept veggies from his plate. Zucchini and squash splattered the tabletop.

  “Hi? Hiram?”

  Oblivious, Hi grabbed a chicken leg and stripped off the flesh. Shoved it between his jaws.

  Beside me, Ben gnawed a drumstick, grinding both meat and bones with his teeth. I watched juice dribble down his chin and dampen his shirt.

  Horrified, my eyes scanned the room. So far, no one seemed to have noticed the drama playing out at our table. That wouldn’t last. Hi and Ben were making a mess.

  I was debating a course of action when Shelton clamped a chicken breast with his teeth and shook it savagely.

  My eyes dropped to my own plate.

  SNAP.

  Boiling oil rushed through me. My brain jumped the tracks.

  Oh no.

  The odor of poultry overrode all other sensations. On instinct, I stuffed a piece of chicken into my mouth. The taste was indescribable. Drool covered my tongue.

  Stop! STOP!

  Closing my eyes, I dug my nails into my palms. Hard. Until it hurt. Willing my higher centers to regain control.

  Blinking away the haze, I looked around.

  The boys were shredding meat with their hands and teeth, all manners forgotten. Then I saw it.

  Shelton’s irises glowed deep saffron yellow.

  I checked Hi, then Ben. My heart thudded madly. Their eyes shone with the same golden radiance.

  Dear God in heaven!

  The boys continued gorging, unaware of the Lion King scene they were making. I had to do something. Our table was a disaster of strewn utensils, shattered bones, and smeared veggies. Someone would spot us at any minute. We’d be the joke of the school forever.

  My mind blanked. The fingernail trick worked for me, but I didn’t know how to call the others back. Without a better idea, I did the one thing I knew would clear the room.

  Against every principle, everything I knew to be right, I pulled the fire alarm.

  A piecing wail blasted from the PA system.

  I jumped away from the little box, already feeling guilty.

  The false alarm continued to scream out, blaring, refusing to be ignored.

  Still slammed, my ears were hypersensitive. The pain was almost unbearable. A moan rose from my throat. The boys pawed their ears in agony, food forgotten. Shelton fell to the floor and curled in on himself.

  The other students jumped to their feet, aware of the Bolton routine and knowing this wasn’t a drill. With a clatter of trays and a few screams, the anxious mob rushed the front doors. In their hasty retreat, not a single person glanced our way.

  In seconds we were the cafeteria’s only occupants.

  “Let’s get out of here!”

  I blasted through the emergency exit, desperate to escape the mind-splitting sirens.

  SNUP.

  Midway across the yard my knees buckled as if gunshot. I fell to the grass, rolled twice, and lay still.

  Slowly, awareness reasserted itself. Running teachers. Huddled students. My friends lying nearby, panting, speechless.

  Gradually, my body returned to normal. For long moments no one moved.

  I spoke first.

  “Did you guys like the chicken?” I asked. “Mine was a bit dry.”

  Dead silence.

  Then nervous laughter rose around me.

  It was music to my bruised ears.

  CHAPTER 44

  No way I was going to school the next day.

  I turned on the shower, rattled bottles, made getting ready noises.
Kit bought my act. He rushed off to work early, oblivious to my plan. When the front door closed, I flopped back into bed.

  The boys weren’t so lucky. Sorry, guys.

  The four of us had agreed to wait another day before presenting ourselves to an ER. Or a psych ward, whichever made more sense.

  But school was the least of my worries.

  A cotillion dance, my first event as a junior debutante, was taking place that evening. With Kit and Whitney so fired up about it, I couldn’t back out. Aside from Mom’s funeral, I’d never dreaded a gathering more in my life.

  I slept all morning and a good chunk of the afternoon. I awoke still sluggish, but free of the overwhelming fatigue. Maybe I was recovering.

  I tried to distract myself, even went to see Coop at the bunker. But my thoughts turned repeatedly to the dance. What was I supposed to wear to this thing?

  The other girls would feature expensive designer gowns. Stunning red-carpet numbers. I owned nothing even close. A fact that Madison and her coven would be sure to point out.

  At 3:27 p.m. I opened my closet door. And found that I’d underestimated Whitney.

  The dress practically jumped from the hanger to spin a pirouette. Marchesa. Light pink, strapless, with gold accents. It must’ve cost a thousand bucks.

  To my horror, it was my size. Below the dress sat a jewelry box containing two items. A silver David Yurman cable bracelet with pearl tips, and a diamond solitaire necklace.

  I stared at the ensemble. Appalled.

  Whitney was dressing me like a doll. One with questionable taste.

  Pink? I glanced in the mirror, noted my red hair, green eyes, and pale complexion. Had she never met me?

  Blarg.

  This was not a blend into the background getup. This combo said, “Look at me,” loud and clear. Exactly what I didn’t want.

  Dual dilemma. I owned nothing else. Ignoring the dress would hurt Whitney’s feelings.

  I had no choice.

  Double blarg.

  The car ride from Morris Island was torture. Whitney’s endless pointers. Kit’s awkward compliments. I was anxious to get to the dance just to escape them.

  “The jewelry’s mine of course. I borrowed the dress from a friend who owns a boutique on King Street.” Whitney was in her element. “We’ll return it to her next week. Daisy said she’d loan us as many outfits as your sweet little debutante heart desires. Isn’t that just the most generous thing ever?”