by Randy Henson
Dr. Nichols shook his head and said, “What I mean is that the last shipment of it was destroyed. I was there when it was burned.”
“So let’s say, just for the sake of argument, that this pellet wasn’t part of that shipment.”
“How’s that possible?” Dr. Nichols asked.
“That’s what I’m asking you,” Lundy said.
“I don’t understand.”
“I’m asking you to think outside of the box, Doctor. You scientific types are supposed to be good at that.”
Dr. Nichols’s forehead creased as his eyebrows came together. After a moment he said, “Someone else made it?”
“And how would that be possible? Who has the knowledge and the means to manufacture V-33?” the colonel asked.
“Someone with a degree in chemistry, and who also had access to a sample?”
“Is that an answer or a question?”
“It’s a guess, sir. It’s my understanding, though, that all uninfected chemists have been rounded up and sorted. You might want to check with your people and see if any of them have escaped or are unaccounted for,” Dr. Nichols suggested.
Colonel Lundy looked over at Lieutenant Hale and gave him a curt nod.
Hale nodded back. Then he turned and walked back into the woods.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
I tightened my grip on Jack’s hand as I drew my left-side pistol from its holster and held it down behind my left thigh.
The truck kicked up dust as it barreled down the dirt drive toward us. As it got closer it slowed and someone held an empty palm out the driver’s window. As the truck continued to slow and roll closer, I squinted as I tried to peer through the windshield to see who was driving.
I couldn’t believe it, and at first I thought my eyes were playing a trick on me.
The truck pulled parallel to Jack and me and stopped.
Orin flashed a toothy grin at me and said, “You kids need a lift?”
I couldn’t help but be suspicious.
“What are you doing?” I asked.
“I’m getting the hell out of here before those dogs show up. How about you?”
I looked at my brother. He had his head cocked and was staring at Orin.
I looked back at Orin, who was still grinning at me.
I didn’t like this.
I didn’t like this one bit.
But sometimes you just have to go with your gut, and my gut was telling me that this Orin fella was acting a whole lot friendlier than the dogs would when they caught up to us, not to mention any men that would be with them.
“Fine,” I said as I holstered my pistol.
I then gripped Jack’s hand tighter and led him around the front of the pickup to the passenger’s door. I opened the door and said, “Good Jack,” as I gently pushed him into the truck’s cab.
Jack resisted at first, but then Orin said, “Nice to meet you, Jack. Looks like you got yourself a haircut.”
Jack turned to Orin and said, “Jack?”
“No, I’m Orin.”
“Owen,” Jack said and then he climbed into the truck and took a seat.
“Close enough,” Orin said and laughed.
I didn’t like him laughing at my brother, but I shrugged it off as I shrugged off my backpack and our bedding and slung them into the truck’s bed. I then pushed Jack gently on his shoulder to get him to scoot over.
“You might want to climb over him,” Orin said to me.
“Why?” I asked suspiciously.
“His legs are too long,” Orin said, motioning at the gearshift that jutted from between the truck’s floorboards.
Orin was right. The gearshift wouldn’t leave room for Jack’s legs. My legs were much shorter and would be able to fit on either side of the gearshift.
“Fine,” I said as I crawled over Jack and sat down between him and Orin.
I then reached across Jack and closed the door.
As I sat up straight and rested my back against the seat cushion, Orin reached between my legs and I jumped. Orin grinned as he grabbed the gearshift’s knob and shifted the truck into drive.
“A little jumpy, aren’t we?” Orin said as he pressed the accelerator with his foot and we lurched down the dirt drive.
“Yeah, waking up to someone trying to rape you can do that to a girl. It tends to put you on edge all day,” I said.
Orin’s grin vanished as he turned out of the drive and onto the dirt road.
“Yeah, sorry about that,” he said.
“What do you have to feel sorry for?” I asked.
“I had a chance to kill them before that and I didn’t take it,” he said.
“Oh,” I said. I didn’t know what else to say.
“So, what do I call you?” Orin asked.
“What?” I said.
“Your name. I’m asking you what your name is. I’m Orin, your brother’s name is Jack, and you are…?”
“Jack, Jack,” my brother said as he turned to look at Orin.
“Jack, Jack. Right. I’m thinking that will get a little confusing,” Orin said.
“What will?” I asked.
“If I call him Jack, and you Jack Jack,” Orin said.
I didn’t know what to tell him. My name was Bernice Agatha Deville, but I had always hated my name. I could never believe my mother had let my father talk her into naming me Bernice Agatha. My father’s name had been Bernard and his mother had been Agatha. I should have been named after my mother. Her name had been Icie Kay. How cool was that? My mother had had the coolest name I’d ever heard, and I got stuck with Bernice Agatha. I contemplated for a second telling Orin my name was Icie, but it didn’t feel right. It felt like I was somehow betraying my parents, though for the world I couldn’t explain why.
“I’m B,” I finally said.
“BB,” Jack said.
Orin turned to me for a second and asked, “B as in Bumble Bee, or B as in Aunt Bea?”
“B as in ABC,” I said.
“ABC,” Jack said.
“B, huh? Devil Girl is a bit catchier. Oh, crap,” Orin said.
We were approaching the highway Jack and I had crossed earlier. Men with rifles were appearing out of the woods to the left of us, climbing up the slope and onto the highway as we had done earlier.
All the men were wearing some kind of body armor.
Dogs then appeared out of the woods as well. They ran around in circles and howled up toward the heavens.
Who were these men?
One of the men started to run toward us with a palm in the air, motioning for us to stop.
Orin turned onto the highway, cutting the wheel away from the men as he punched the gas and the truck kicked up dirt and gravel as it lurched and sped down the highway, leaving the armed men behind.
Then I heard the staccato popping of automatic weapons.
“Get down!” Orin yelled as he crouched down in his seat.
I reached up and grabbed the back of Jack’s neck and pulled him down with me as I ducked.
Jack began moaning. When I looked over I noticed he was grabbing at his door’s handle. I reached over and knocked his arm down with my elbow as I slammed the door’s lock down, hopefully locking it.
I’m such an idiot. I should have locked the door earlier. The last thing I needed was Jack jumping out of the truck and kissing concrete at sixty miles an hour.
After a minute, once the armed men were safely behind us, Orin sat up in his seat and asked, “You two okay?”
I sat up and put my arm around my brother and said, “It’s good, Jack. Good. You’re good.”
“Good,” Jack said as he sat up and grabbed my hand, giving it a squeeze.
I gave him a squeeze back.
“I take it he’s a Category Three,” Orin said.
I turned and glared at Orin and said, “So?”
“So, nothing. It could be worse,” Orin said as he turned from me and looked out at the highway.
I didn’t know what to say to that
.
“Is the door locked? I wouldn’t want him jumping out all of a sudden like,” Orin said.
“It’s locked,” was all I said. I wanted to say more. I wanted to thank Orin for saving us. At least I was pretty sure he saved us. Maybe the men would have left us alone. But I should have thanked him regardless.
But I didn’t.
I really needed to work on my people skills.
CHAPTER TWELVE
Colonel Lundy jerked and frowned when he heard the gunfire.
“What the hell!” he yelled.
He then grabbed Dr. Nichol’s by his left elbow and pulled him along as he quickened his pace.
Lieutenant Hale came running through the trees toward them. He stopped fifteen feet in front of them and said, “We spotted them, Colonel. They were turning onto…”
“Who the hell was shooting? We need her alive!” Colonel Lundy thundered.
“My men are aware of that, sir. They spotted the subject, or at least they believe it was her, in a truck. They were shooting at the tires,” Hale explained.
“I don’t care if your men see her flying on the back of a purple spotted dragon! All it takes is one stray bullet bouncing off blacktop and striking this woman in the head and our mission is a failure!” Colonel Lundy yelled as he continued to drag Dr. Nichols through the forest.
Lieutenant Hale stepped out of Lundy’s and Dr. Nichol’s way. He then turned and fell into step alongside his colonel.
“I’ll let the men know, sir,” Hale said.
“Be sure that you do. This girl is way too valuable. We can’t afford any screw ups,” Lundy said.
“Yes, sir.”
“Was she alone?” the colonel asked.
“The men say no. There were two males spotted inside the vehicle with her, sir,” Hale said.
“Well, I think it’s safe to assume that one of the males was her brother,” Lundy said.
“I would say that’s a safe assumption, sir,” Hale agreed.
Colonel Lundy let go of Dr. Nichol’s elbow and slowed his steps.
“So who was the other male?” Lundy asked.
“We don’t know, sir. Most likely he was the owner of the truck. The men say one of the males was driving and I think it’s safe for us to assume that it wasn’t the subject’s brother driving, sir.”
The colonel grunted and said, “Another safe assumption.”
“They were turning onto the highway from a dirt road. Perhaps it was a local. Some farmer we missed, sir,” Hale offered.
“No, we didn’t miss anyone. This whole area has been cleared. It had to be someone traveling through,” Lundy said.
“Yes, sir,” Hale said.
“I still don’t like it. These aren’t the days where people are likely to pick up hitchhikers,” Lundy pointed out.
“No, sir. They certainly are not,” Hale agreed.
“Maybe she high jacked him,” Dr. Nichols offered.
“How’s that?” Lundy asked as he turned his head to look at Dr. Nichols.
“Well, I believe I mentioned that she is highly aggressive. Maybe she carjacked the driver,” Dr. Nichols said.
“Maybe. But then why not just take the truck. Why take the owner as well?” Lundy said.
“Maybe she needed someone to drive while she handles her brother. I don’t know. I’m just thinking out loud, offering different possibilities, explanations for her behavior,” Dr. Nichols said.
“No, you’re right. Keep it up. That’s why you’re here, Doctor,” Lundy said.
Dr. Nichols nodded and said, “Yes, sir.”
“The highway is just up this incline, Colonel,” Hale said.
The three of them climbed the slope, Dr. Nichols slipping several times.
“You okay, Doctor?” Lundy asked as soon as they reached the blacktop.
“Yes, sir. I had an ear infection when I was young. It affected my balance. That’s all, sir,” Dr. Nichols explained.
Lundy grunted and nodded. Then he turned to Hale and asked, “So, which way did they go?”
Hale turned, pointed, and said, “North, sir.”
Colonel Lundy pointed at the ground and said, “Get us some jeeps right here. How are we doing on the helicopters?”
“Command said not until tomorrow,” Hale said.
Lundy shook his head and said, “It’s enough to make a soldier cry.”
“Yes, sir,” Hale agreed.
“Well, get us those jeeps,” Lundy said.
“Yes, sir,” Hale said. He then pulled a GPS palm unit out of his back pocket and unclipped a radio from his belt. He then turned and walked a few feet away as he talked into the radio.
Colonel Lundy shook his head and thought it was a damn shame. He had more helicopters and planes than he had use for, but hardly anyone to fly them thanks to The Virus.
Lundy turned to Dr. Nichols and said, “Tell me again about this Orion guy. You think he could be involved?”
“You mean driving the truck? I don’t know. Where would he get a truck?”
“Who knows? Where wouldn’t he, is more like it. Trucks and cars are like helicopters and planes nowadays. They’re just sitting around waiting for people to use them.”
Dr. Nichols nodded and said, “You’re right about that, I guess. Anyway, what I was saying earlier, this Clarke character was asking a lot of questions I found suspicious. Actually, to be honest, I didn’t find them suspicious at all at the time, not until you brought it up. Now that we found that spentV-33 pellet, I’m even more suspicious.”
Then Dr. Nichols stopped talking and got a faraway look in his eyes.
“Continue, Doctor.”
“I was just thinking. He asked me if I thought it was possible to cure just the symptoms and not The Virus itself. Most people wanted to know if The Virus itself could and would ever be cured. He seemed more concerned about the symptoms themselves.”
“That does sound suspicious,” Lundy agreed.
“Yes, it does. It most certainly does.”
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Jack had eventually fallen asleep. His head rested on my shoulder and rolled gently back and forth as we rolled down the open highway.
“So, have you been to any other compounds besides the one in Atlanta?” Orin asked me.
I didn’t like the idea of being interrogated by a stranger, but he very well might have saved our lives, and more than once. I decided to play nice. It would be my version of thanking him.
“New Orleans. But as you’ve probably heard, we had to leave,” I said.
Orin frowned and said, “Yes, I heard. Is that where you were from originally?”
“Yeah, that was home,” I said.
“I was trying to place your accent.”
“Now you know.”
“I like it. I must admit, I’m not very well traveled. Or at least I wasn’t until The Virus,” Orin said.
“The Plague,” I corrected.
“What?”
“Call it The Plague. It’s more appropriate. A virus can be a bug that lasts forty-eight hours and can be cured with fruit juice and chicken noodle soup. A plague, however, lasts much longer and causes massive devastation. Which one do you think we’re dealing with?”
“You got a point,” Orin admitted. “I’m sorry about New Orleans.”
“Why? Did you have people there?” I asked.
“No, but from what I heard it was horrible. A lot of innocent people died.”
“A lot of innocent people died everywhere.”
Orin looked at me and frowned and said, “I know that. I’m just sorry about your home, that’s all.”
“Yeah, me to,” I said. I didn’t know what else to say.
I was getting really tired of that, of not knowing what to say around this man, this man who had come to my brother’s and my rescue. I just didn’t know how to respond to him saying he was sorry for what happened back home. It wasn’t his fault. It wasn’t anyone’s fault.
At least I hoped it wasn’t
.
A riot had broken out at The Compound in New Orleans. Actually, it really wasn’t a riot, it was a massacre. As with most of the compounds, most of the infected that were cared for at The Compound in New Orleans were Category Fives. One day all the Category Fives just went berserk. They grabbed anything sharp they could find and just started attacking people, even each other. The day before, they couldn’t hold spoons; the next day, they were wielding butcher knives and machetes like they were trained samurai.
Well, maybe not like trained samurai, but they were severing heads left and right, decapitating folk like they were cutting sugar cane.
Jack and I had barely escaped with our lives.
Our parents, however, had not been as lucky.
No one had any explanation for the massacre, for what made the Category Fives attack.
But one thing was for sure, there had to be an explanation.
“So how about you?” I asked Orin.
“How about me what?”
“Have you been to other compounds other than Atlanta?”
“Yeah, I’m from Houston…”
“I was trying to place the accent. I don’t like it,” I said.
Orin looked at me and laughed.
“Did you just make a joke?” he asked.
“Maybe,” I said.
“Good. I’m glad to see you lighten up a bit. You’ve been sitting there glaring at the dashboard like you’re trying to burn holes in it. Anyway, I’ve been to the compound in Little Rock, the one in Baton Rouge, and the one in Tuscaloosa.”
“Why’d you leave Houston?”
“I’m heading for Virginia,” he said.
“You have family in Virginia?”
“No. I got a reason to believe there is a cure to be found in Virginia.”
“Really? I was told Charleston,” I said.
“Charleston? Charleston is a wasteland. The same thing that happened in New Orleans happened in Charleston. And Chicago, Detroit, and Boston, as well.”
“What? How do you know that? I haven’t heard about a massacre happening anywhere else except Miami.”
“That’s probably because you’re not much of a people person.”
I glared at him and asked, “What the hell is that supposed to mean?”
