"We weren't trying to breach anything," said Ryan.
"I understand that. Unfortunately, the fire caused our security system to malfunction. Had it not been for that, you never would have found your way down the wrong hallway."
"I guess that's why I didn't see any windows," said Ryan.
"Exactly. But you're here now, so I can tell you this much about your misfortune. This underground facility was built with the cooperation of the international medical community. Its location--indeed, its very existence--is top secret, We are not evil scientists trying to take over the world. We are men and women from around the world who have come together to create a research center to fight a disease called BODS."
"BODS?" said Ryan. "Never heard of it."
"It is extremely rare at this point. There are only eight documented cases in the United States. But it's very deadly. And it's highly contagious, if it is not contained immediately. That's why the infected patients are treated here, where they are quarantined."
"Why is your work a secret?" asked the coach.
"If word were to get out that the most deadly disease ever known to mankind could be spread from one person to another simply by breathing the air, a worldwide panic would ensue."
"What exactly is BODS?" asked Ryan.
"The letters stand for Blood Oxygen Depletion Syndrome. Healthy red blood cells normally carry oxygen throughout the body. In patients who are infected with the BODS virus, the blood's ability to transmit oxygen is severely impaired. Eventually, the blood is completely unable to carry oxygen."
"What happens then?"
"You die. Plain and simple. Without oxygen, your tissues and organs shut down. It's as if your whole body suffocates."
The Flu Lady cringed. "It sounds awful."
"It is," said Dr. Watkins.
"How do you catch this BODS?" asked Coach.
"As I mentioned,, it's airborne."
"Meaning what?"
"Meaning that every one of you was infected the minute you walked in here and took your first breath. The virus enters through the lungs, then invades the bloodstream through the pulmonary system."
"So . . . we're all going to die?" said Kaylee.
Dr. Watkins gave them a somber look. His answer seemed to echo through the mouthpiece in his helmet. "That's entirely possible."
The coach popped from his chair, slapping the table in anger. "This can't be. There has to be a way to stop this. I mean, we've only been here a few minutes."
"Sit down, sir."
The coach stopped, then returned to his seat. Dr. Watkins continued. "There is one bit of hope. This is a research facility, so naturally we have been working on a vaccine for BODS."
"You can give us a shot?" said Flu Lady.
"Let me explain, please. The vaccine is in an early stage of development. We do know that it is also effective as an antidote, so long as it is administered no later than half an hour after the patient is exposed to the virus."
Coach checked his watch. "We've only been here ten minutes. Bring on the vaccine!"
Dr. Watkins pressed a button on the wall, which activated a loudspeaker. "Mr. Yoo, if you please," he said, his voice carrying over the P. A. system.
The door opened and an Asian man entered the room. He was wearing a traditional white lab coat. No hazmat suit, no protective gear of any kind. He looked like an ordinary doctor in a typical hospital.
Dr. Watkins said, "This is Dr. Yoo from Tokyo. He was one of the first volunteers to test the vaccine. As you can see, it works. He's completely healthy. Dr. Yoo, will you do the honors, please?"
Dr. Yoo bowed politely and walked toward a wall safe at the other end of the room. He dialed the combination, turned the handle, and opened the safe. With great care, he removed a small metal box and placed it on the chrome table.
Dr. Watkins said, "Inside this box you will find glass vials. Each vial contains enough vaccine for one person. You must drink it completely. If you don't, I'm quite sure you will be dead before sundown."
His words seemed to hang in the air: Dead before sundown.
Dr. Watkins opened the box. All six of his guests leaned forward and peered inside. There were two rows of glass vials. They were standing upright in a soft, foam base. Each vial contained a yellow liquid.
"That's the vaccine?" asked Kaylee.
"Yes," said Dr. Watkins.
"But there are only five vials," said Ryan, "and there are six of us."
They each counted to themselves. An uneasy silence fell over the group.
"Is there another dose in that locker?" asked Ryan.
Dr. Watkins shook his head. "That's the bad news. Like I said, the vaccine is in a very early stage of development. The chief ingredient, as it turns out, is a protein found only in the stingers of bees. Do you have any idea how many bee stingers we have to collect just to make one dose? Millions, I assure you. This is all we've been able to develop so far."
The old woman's voice shook. "But. . . but you said that each vial has only enough for one person."
"What does this mean?" asked the Sling Man.
They looked at one another. It was as if they knew the answer but were afraid to say it.
Finally, the coach spoke up. "It means one of us is going to be dead by sundown."
Chapter 8
"Is it a painful death?" asked Coach.
"I won't lie. It isn't pleasant." Dr. Watkins closed the lid on the box and placed it in the center of the table. "It's a terrible decision to make. But we have to decide."
"The doctor's right," said Coach. "If we don't drink the vaccine soon, none of us will survive. But let's be fair about this. First, does anyone volunteer to be left out?"
No one made a sound.
"I didn't think so," said Coach. "Which means that we have to choose someone."
"How?" said Ryan.
"We should vote," said Kaylee.
"Good idea," said the Sling Man. "I vote to leave you out."
Kaylee looked at him in disbelief. "Why me?"
The Sling Man said, "Because you told us that you knew the way out of the Emergency Room. We all followed you, and we ended up going down the wrong hall. It's your fault we're in this mess."
"Wait just a minute," said Kaylee. "It was Coach who took the lead once we got in the hallway."
"That's right," said the Flu Lady. "This is all Coach's fault. He should be left out."
"This is so wrong," said Ryan. "We can't vote on who should live and who should die."
"The boy's right," said Coach. He took a seat, then rested his elbow on the table and flexed his bicep. "Let's arm wrestle for it. The strong will survive. The weakest will die. It's only natural."
Kaylee glared and said, "How about the stupidest? That's natural, too."
"Who you calling stupid, missy?"
"Stop!" said Dr. Watkins. His tone gave them all a jolt. It was the kind of voice you'd expect from someone who was in charge, but it was even more forceful coming through the amplifier in his helmet. "You're not going to vote. You're not going to arm wrestle. You're not going to decide who's stupid and who's smart."
"Then how do we decide?" asked Kaylee.
"God should decide," said the oldest woman.
The doctor smiled ruefully. "With all due respect, ma'am. Unless God hurries up, you're all going to die. So let me suggest the next best thing. You should cast lots."
They exchanged nervous glances, as if waiting for someone to come up with a better suggestion. No one said a word.
"That's the answer then," said Coach. "We'll leave it to chance. Or to providence."
"I'll be right back," said the doctor. The man in the hazmat suit opened the door and allowed the doctor to exit the room. The others were silent while he was away, except for the Flu Lady. "Could I have something to drink, please? This is making me sick."
The guard stepped out and quickly returned with a cup of water. Flu Lady tried to drink, but her hand was shaking, and she could only manage
a sip or two. They were all nervous, and waiting on Dr. Watkins was hardly putting them at ease. Finally, the door opened, and the doctor returned. He was carrying a dinner tray. The first thought that popped into Ryan's mind was that this was someone's last meal, like they did for prisoners before their execution. But this was even stranger than that. On the tray were six small piles of pure white sugar. The piles were of equal size, and each looked exactly like the next one.
"What is this for?" asked Coach.
"This is how we're going to choose lots," the doctor said. "I raided the kitchen. It may seem odd that we have food in a quarantined area, but we do have to feed our BODS patients and people like Dr. Yoo, who have already been vaccinated. In any event, five of these piles contain only sugar. In the sixth, I've buried a bottle cap. Whoever chooses the bottle cap loses. Do we all understand?"
They nodded their understanding.
"Ma'am, why don't you start?" he said to Head Case.
The old woman stared at the six piles. She reached toward the far end, then retracted her hand quickly, as if burned by a flame. She reached toward the middle, then pulled back again. Finally, she went to the nearest pile and raked her fingers through it.
Nothing but sugar.
"Praise be," she said with relief.
There were five piles left. Kaylee was seated beside the old woman. "Young lady," the doctor said. "Your turn."
Kaylee withdrew. "No, I don't want to choose. Let the others go first. I'll take whatever pile is left."
"Fine. If that be your choice. Sir, it's your turn."
The Sling Man moved closer to the five remaining piles. Without a moment's hesitation, he chose the fifth pile from the left. It was pure sugar. "How sweet it is!" he shouted, raising two fists in the air.
The Flu Lady was next, and she chose sugar. Just three piles remained. One of them concealed a bottle cap.
The doctor's voice tightened. "Ryan, it's your turn."
Ryan shook his head. "No. I feel the same as Kaylee. I don't like this game."
"Well, one of you is going to have to choose."
"I'll choose," said Kaylee. "But I'm choosing for Coach Jenkins."
"What?"
"I can't bring myself to choose for myself. So the pile I choose will be the coach's fate. Can you accept that, sir?"
The coach swallowed hard. The suggestion seemed to have taken him by surprise, but he was eager to get this over with. "I accept," he said. "Choose one for me."
The girl stared at the three remaining piles of sugar. Her eyes opened wider, but she was otherwise still. Not a muscle moved. She didn't even blink. Ryan wondered if she was even breathing. Finally, her arm stretched forward. Her fingers shook as they approached the pile. She placed her hand over the middle one, then raked it clean off the board with her fingers.
There was only sugar.
The coach let out a nervous chuckle of relief. Then he looked at Ryan and said, "I guess it's down to you two."
Ryan stared at the two remaining piles. He looked at the four players who would live, and then he looked at Kaylee. The four looked smug. Kaylee looked terrified. He realized that he, too, must have looked frightened. Who wouldn't have been scared? He had his whole life ahead of him. Whether he would live or die came down to this: two piles on a tray. One was pure sugar, the other was hiding a bottle cap. One was life; the other, death. It all seemed so unfair.
"Come on, Ryan," said Dr. Watkins. "Choose:'
His heart was thumping in his chest. He swallowed the lump in his throat and picked the one on the right.
"That one," he said.
"Sift through it," said the doctor. "It's your lot."
He drew a deep breath, then dragged his fingers through the pile.
All eyes turned toward Kaylee. She was stunned, silent. The doctor tilted up one end of the tray. Slowly, the last-remaining pile of sugar dissolved, and the bottle cap rolled onto the table. It landed in front of Kaylee.
The doctor looked at her and said, "I'm sorry, young lady."
Her body began to tremble, and then she let out a scream. "No, not me!"
"It's what we agreed," said Coach.
"No, it's not fair! It's not fair at all."
"It is as fair as we can be."
"Why should it be me? Why should I die? I'm just fourteen!"
Fourteen, thought Ryan. She was actually younger than he had guessed. Ryan could hardly stand to listen. It could have been him. It had come down to just two piles of sugar. He could have chosen the wrong one. He'd chosen the right one, but it didn't feel right.
For this, I deserve to live ?
Ryan said, "There has to be another way."
"There is no other way," said Coach.
Kaylee screamed even louder. Then she sprang like a cat toward the box of glass vials on the table. The men in the hazmat suits grabbed her.
"Take her away!" Dr. Watkins ordered.
The men tried to restrain her, but Kaylee was kicking and screaming at the top of her lungs. She refused to go without a fight. The guards wrestled her to the floor, but she kicked one man in the shins. He cried out in pain, and Kaylee wiggled free. The doctor jumped into the fracas and tried to subdue her, but Kaylee was twisting in every direction. The coach pounced on her and slapped her across the face.
"Please!" she cried. "Somebody help me!"
Ryan had no time to think, but his instincts took over. He grabbed the box of vials and jumped atop the table.
"He's got the vaccine!" the coach shouted.
"Stop right there!" said Ryan. "Or I'll smash the vials against the wall."
The others stopped dead in their tracks.
The doctor said, "Put the box down gently, boy. There's no need for this. You're one of the winners."
"A winner?" he said, scoffing. "Is that what you think this is? Some kind of game?"
"It's the best we can do," said Coach.
Ryan shook his head, disgusted by such a lame response. "No, it's not the best we can do. We're in this together. We'll all make it out of this mess. Or none of us will."
The coach glared. "You're talking nonsense. Give us the box."
Ryan took a half-step backward. He nearly stepped on the Flu Lady's cup of water--and suddenly he had an idea. He grabbed the cup and pitched the water onto the floor. Then he reached inside the box of vials.
"What are you doing?" the coach asked nervously.
"Just stay back, or all five of these vaccines will be sprayed across the wall." Ryan kept one eye on the lookout, and one eye on the cup. He opened one vial and poured some of the vaccine into the empty cup.
"Don't be a fool," said the doctor.
Ryan said, "We have five vaccines. If each of us takes a little less, we can make six."
"We'll all die!" said the Sling Man.
"Or maybe we'll all live," said Ryan.
The guard took a step toward him, but Ryan raised the box over his head once again, threatening to smash the vials to bits. The guard backed away. Ryan opened the remaining vials. "Don't do it!" the doctor shouted.
Ryan ignored him. One after the other, he emptied a small amount of liquid from each vial and poured it into the cup. When he finished, he had six vaccines. The others looked on, angry and astonished. To Ryan, however, it felt completely right. He looked at the coach and said, "Bring Kaylee here. She should drink first."
Nobody moved. Ryan and the coach were locked in a stare-down, but the others were watching the cup, the concoction that contained some of the vaccine from each of the five vials. Ryan smelled something strange. He, too, glanced down at the cup.
"It's bubbling," said the guard.
"It's about to boil," said the other.
It was boiling. As it boiled, the yellow liquid inside began to expand. The cup was half full, then two-thirds full. The sixth share that Ryan had created was boiling and growing right before their eyes.
Then they heard a noise. It was a deep rumbling that sounded like a distant earthquake. It w
as coming from inside the cup.
"What is that?" asked Kaylee.
"I don't know," said Ryan.
The cup started to rattle. The boiling yellow liquid was bubbling over the sides like a science project gone bad.
"I think it's going to explode!" said Coach.
The rumbling grew louder. The rattling spread to the table. The legs were tapping on the floor. Then the floor, itself, began to shake. At first, it was a vibration beneath their feet. Soon, the whole room was in motion. Ryan could barely stay on his feet.
"Run for it!" the doctor shouted.
One of the guards flung the door open. Ryan tried to run, but the floor was shaking too violently. He fell to his knees and dropped the box containing their vaccine. He heard the glass vials shatter. He saw the others running. He heard himself screaming as the cup exploded and released a bright flash of light. The colors were more intense than any fireworks display he had ever seen.
And then there was only darkness.
Chapter 9
The bright light of interrogation was shining in Ryan's eyes.
The blast in the Infectious Disease Control Center had knocked him out, cold. Apart from that, he was unhurt. He didn't know how long he had been unconscious. Even more disconcerting, he had no idea where he was.
"You are in a tremendous amount of trouble, young man." The deep voice filled the room, but Ryan's interrogator was a dark silhouette in the shadows, standing behind a bright spotlight. It was like staring into the headlights of an oncoming car in the dead of night and trying to identify the driver. Somehow, however, Ryan could feel the weight of the stranger's stare.
"Who are you?" asked Ryan.
"I'm Detective Frank Malone. And 77/ be the one asking the questions from here on out, thank you."
Ryan couldn't look into that white light another minute. As he averted his eyes, he noticed that he was no longer wearing his jeans and sweatshirt. His basketball jersey was gone, too. Someone had removed his street clothes. He was clad in a jumpsuit. An orange jumpsuit--the same kind of orange jumpsuit that his father wore whenever Ryan visited him at the state penitentiary.
"Am I in prison?"
"No more questions," said the detective. "It's time for you to cough up some answers, Mr. Coolidge."
Leapholes (2006) Page 4
