The Longest Road (Book 3): The Other Side

by A. S. Thompson

  “Whennormal human babies are conceived, this ‘bomb’ is not present. I came to call this the God Chromosome,” Albert continued. He nodded to the canister that West still held in his hand. “The pills act as reset button. If I don’t get one, my brain begins to attack itself. You saw my brother. You just saw me. It's bloody, it's painful, and not a way I wish to die. I don't do well with pain or torture of any kind, as I much prefer pleasure. So if it's all the same to you, I would rather help you and betray mine, if it means survival and keeping the ‘bomb’ from going off."

  West patted Albert on the shoulder. "That a boy."

  “Then you can start by fixing Alex. If you created the virus, then you must have created the vaccine. Thereal one. We know Ambrosia is a front," said Travis.

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  Subconsciously, Albert grabbed his wrist and glanced downward. Both motions lasted less than a split second, but it was enough for West to notice.

  Back in Clark’s office...Albert’s wrist had track marks! He’s lying, Chucky.

  “Nice try. I remember last year when we met. You just had an injection,” West said, forcing Albert’s hand up to expose where the marks had been. “I’m betting that’s where you shot up the real antivirus.”

  “All in good time.”

  Travis took the liberty of delivering a hard punch to Albert’s cheek. “No. The truth, now!”

  With some calculated compression and a few pops, Albert realigned a section of vertebrae on his neck that had dislodged from the punch. "Fine, if you insist. While you are correct, Ambrosia is not what is has beenpromoted as, it still would help your friend. But I insist that you are mistaken about him-”

  “And what has it been promoted as?” interrupted Travis.

  Albert delayed that particular answer. "If it is as you say it is, fifty-eight hours post contraction, I can see three possibilities. One, the person who bit your friend was not infected, or two, your time frame is incorrect."

  "It's not, and I have been counting since contraction occurred," replied West.

  "I would say I feel better, but I don’t. At least I don't smell," Alex declared, walking out of the locker room shower. Towel wrapped around his lower half, Alex looked at West who was motioning to a chair with duct tape. “I know, I know. Can I at least put some pants on?”

  Albert’s gaze returned to West. "Ambrosia could help him, but you destroyed it all."

  "You're telling me there is no more left?"

  Albert shrugged smugly, and for that lackadaisical response, he was hit in the face.

  Travis rubbed his knuckles and stepped back.

  "That I know of,” Albert finished, shifting his jaw from side to side. “I thought I knew everything about our operation, but even I came to realize that I was kept out of the loop. If there is more Ambrosia, it is not on this continent. I can promise you that."

  "You said there were three possibilities,” said Shanna.

  "Yes, the third. If, and I do stressif, you are positive about both accounts, there can only be one other possibility: natural immunity. Although that possibility would be just shy of six point eight billionths of a chance.”

  Alex pulled up clean cargo pants and cinched the belt; bite marks and other wounds were exposed on his shirtless body. Alex sat back in the chair while Travis wrapped the tape around his forearms. "Are you saying there's a chance I'm not infected?"

  "Obviously, listening skills are not your forte."

  "Hey, asshole, I'm pretty sure I'm still wasted. I feel like shit and I- I actually had something else but I forgot.”

  "Shocking-"

  "Oh ya, I remembered. West, could what Diane gave me back at the WHO have done something to me?"

  Albert’s wide, curious eyes oscillated between Alex and West. “Diane who? Did you receive an inoculation?”

  "At the WHO in Vancouver our friend Diane Phillips was working on an experimental vaccine. She said she was close to finishing but still testing. She needed to try it on a human, and I took it. It didn't work though. At least she didn’t think it did, and neither did I ‘cause the other person it was tested on changed anyway."

  Albert’s eyes narrowed. "Tell me everything."

  Alex explained everything from meeting Diane to her work in Willop, and eventually the time spent at the WHO.

  "There is a chance that this woman created a vaccine,” Albert posited. “And the reason it didn't work on Laura, the lady you mentioned, was incubation. Your body on the other hand, had time to incubate and foster an immunological defense. I would need to check your blood to confirm, though. I wouldn't put much stock in it, as I said previously the other two possibilities are far more likely. I designed this infection with a ninety-nine point nine percent lethality rate.”

  “Hopefully I’m part of that point one percent.”

  "Speaking of, what was it exactly?"

  "Eris? It is death, in its purest form..."

  Based on the others’ reactions, Albert knew the concise explanation would not suffice, so he elaborated.

  "Your doctor friend, Diane, called it the Trinity Virus. Said that it had attributes of a virus, bacterium and parasite. That is precisely its nature. To control a host and reproduce, to wreak havoc on its prey and never stop. It is the perfect killing machine."

  “Wait, what?” Alex said, barely paying attention. He was far too busy entertaining the prospect of immunity. "So you're telling me there's a chance? I might be immune?"

  "More than that. If you are, you would be the only person with an untainted immunity.”

  “Untainted, because Ambrosia is a front, isn’t it?” asked Travis.

  “Don’t hit me! I’ll answer...Yes and no.”

  "So what was the plan? With Ambrosia, with everything?"

  "In time, Sergeant Major, in time."

  Travis unsheathed the knife on his belt. "I’d watch your answers, amigo. You said it yourself, you don't do well with pain.”

  "Exactly. I never said I couldn't endure it, just that I would prefer not to. I am willing to play traitor, but I would rather not disclose everything at once. We know what happens to the person on the lesser end of the status quo.”

  “Fine,” West said, but quickly followed, “for now.”

  Headquarters of the LIFE Corporation- Location unknown

  December 2, 2009

  2140 hours

  "Fuck!" Liz Baron shouted. She pushed a manila folder off the table, sending the interior paperwork all over the carpet. Next to come crashing down was her dinner and ceramic mug.

  With nothing left to hurl or break, she grabbed her hair. “What are you doing, Liz! You knew West would call your bluff! You could have saved Albert if you wanted to! Now you have two dead sons, the Farm offline indefinitely, and all five trucks destroyed! Everything is falling apart!"

  Jenna Morgan stood off to the side, knowing best to remain silent.

  “G-ahh!” Liz screamed, rising from her seat. She began pacing around the room but stumbled to a knee.

  “Ms. Baron, are you okay?” Jenna asked timidly.

  Out of breath, Liz started to reply, “Yes, I-I,” but fainted.

  “Ms. Baron!” shouted Jenna, rushing to her employer’s side. “MIA, get help in here immediately!”

  “Necessary personnel have been notified and are responding,” MIA said, manifesting next to Jenna. Her digital eyes looked up and down Liz’s body. “My scans indicate no internal damage. Syncope appears to be stress-related. I will know more upon further examination in the medical bay.”

  Chapter 8

  “The Unbelievable”

  New Jerusalem

  December 2, 2009

  1545 hours

  "How long's he been out?" asked a man with a lollypop pressed against the inside of his cheek.

  “Not long before we arrived," answered Nick. "I wouldn't expect him to wake until tomorrow. His body has been through a lot."

  "But he'll be fine though?" Jenny in
terjected, though not convinced by her own words. “Right?”

  Nick placed another blanket on top of Steve. "I believe so. I have dealt with many cases like this. Steve’s temperature is rising steadily. His body simply needs time to rest and heal."

  Jenny exhaled. "Okay good."

  “I recognize you,” Nick said, speaking to the man. “You were standing in front of the saloon earlier, weren’t you?”

  Dressed in a Popular Science T-shirt hidden behind a half-zipped hoodie, the man was carrying a tray of food and as such, unable to extend a hand. "Yup, that was me. Darn, how rude of me. Name's Landon Winsfield, my friends used to call me LT though on account my middle name being Taylor...”

  Warm and welcoming, Landon passed out a bowl to each person and continued.

  "Hope you like it. It's mostly chicken broth with some canned veggies. Could use some spices, but we don't have much these days."

  Nick accepted a bowl courtesy of the New Jerusalem townspeople, sipped a minuscule amount, and then introduced himself and the rest of his people.

  "Nice to meet y’all,” Landon said, nodding humbly. “So I gotta ask, how did y’all come across our town? I mean, heck, we’re not exactly on the beaten path, and well, we didn’t think there was supposed to be anyone left."

  "We were with another car, driving up the mountain pass. Ours got hit by some falling boulders, then we just started walking. Steve said he saw lights last night, so he took us in your direction. We were supposed to meet up with our friends at a town not far from here."

  "You said you saw lights? At night?"

  "Yes, why?"

  "Well, we don't really have lights on at night, especially during a storm. Weather would blow out all the torches. Even if they weren’t put out yet, I don’t think they could be seen as far away as the western mountains. Then again, I guess I wouldn’t really know. Haven’t been out that way.”

  "Maybe it was a neighboring town?" suggested Jenny.

  "Not likely, the only other town would be Donner or Blankston. But I reckon you Blankston’s small and pretty tucked away and Donner's been abandoned for some time. I should know. I passed through it myself."

  “Abandoned or not, that’s where we need to be,” said Nick. “That was the rendezvous point with our group, but we were delayed when we got attacked by the infected. They were tracking us from our car. If it wasn’t for Steve leading most of them away from us, we might not have survived."

  By the time Lisa received a bowl of soup, Eddy had just finished slurping down his. "Got any more of that stuff?"

  Landon offered Eddy Steve's bowl and took the empty.

  Jenny swallowed a spoonful of soup and said, “Oh, tell him about the boy, Nick. The one you saved.”

  "Boy? Outside the walls?” Landon said as though he had a suspicion of the identity. “You're talking about Leonard's boy, Neil? Quiet kid, buck teeth, brown hair, about yay-high?" Landon described, flattening a hand next to his waist as a rough measurement.

  "I don't know who Leonard is, but yup, that sounds like the kid," Eddy said, finishing his second bowl. He still wasn’t satisfied, but refrained from asking for a third helping.

  Landon sat on the edge of the sofa. "Oh, I wouldn't go on talking about Neil being outside though. You can get in a lot of trouble going outside the walls. Between you and me, Neil has already been disciplined once. I'm probably the only one who doesn't mind, but if anyone asks, best you leave Neil out of it. He's a good kid, just has an adventurous spirit. I'd hate to see what the Preacher would do if he caught Neil a second time."

  "Good to know,” Nick said, nodding. "Then between you and us, Neil left in this direction, and I followed his tracks. We were just outside the walls when Kelly-”

  The group had yet to mourn the loss of their friend and as such a silence overcame them. Even Landon had no words, and for a long moment the room was quiet save for the crackling fire.

  “Afterwards, Binky brought us to this room,” Nick continued, choosing his words, “Then we met with the Preacher, and now here we are again."

  Jenny seemed the least hungry out of the group as indicated by her nearly untouched bowl. “I still don’t get it. Why is it forbidden to go outside the walls?"

  "Safety I guess," Landon answered, shrugging. "The Preacher told us as long as we are in here, we are safe from the demons."

  "Does everyone feel that way?"

  "Uh-huh. They are all scared. Won't even look over the walls."

  "And how do you feel about the Preacher and his policy?"

  "You mean calling those things demons? Let’s just say my beliefs are uncertain,” Landon disclosed tactfully. “But I will say that the Preacher is one of a kind. He's definitely off, but it's like he really has been touched by God. He's got this energy about him. I can't explain it, but some of the things he can do are just...just out of this world. And true to his word, he’s kept the demons away."

  Nick disregarded the word demons. "Things like what?"

  “He’s healed folks. Not just talkin’ people with colds or sore throats. I mean actual illnesses. Stuff you’d need to see the doctor for. Let me think. There was Mrs. Dolores, she had pneumonia for weeks. Mr. Kowalski and Mr. Demeeni had cuts that got infected. Oh, Miss Ramansby...we think she got salmonella from one of our chickens. I won’t go into the graphic details but the Preacher got her better. Got all them better. Wild, but that kinda stuff.”

  “You’re telling us that the Preacher cured all these people, without medicine?”

  “Ya.”

  “So that’s it, he’s a faith healer?”

  “Not just the healing...one time we were runnin’ low on food and he prayed for manna from Heaven, and the next day, he said God answered his prayer. The Preacher didn’t go but blessed Blake and Jill and sent them out on a certain path...we’re talking ‘walk two-hundred paces, turn left, another fifty, turn right’ on-the-dot, kinda path. Believe me, I saw the written instructions myself! And sure enough, they returned with horsebacks full of food.”

  “No way.”

  “True story. Now I don't go to his sermons all the time, mostly because I was never the religious type, but I have seen the Preacher’s miracles and they are unbelievable..."

  He paused, then leaned in and lowered his tone to a whisper before continuing.

  "But I don't buy in to the wholedemonsthing though, but don't you go telling anyone that. That’ll be between you and me."

  "They aren't demons. Why are people calling them that?” Jenny said, crossing her arms in frustration.

  "They aren't possessed or anything like that,” Nick followed. “We tried telling the Preacher that, but he wouldn't believe us. They are regular people who were infected with a virus. We were on a mission to stop the company who spread the virus, but-"

  "That's when your RV crashed," Landon finished. "I guess it makes sense, but it's just a lot to take in, ya know?"

  "If you're not convinced of these demons, then why haven't you ever left? Or ever spoken out?"

  "Same reason most folks just keep their heads down. It's safe in here. And safer to keep my opinions to myself. Regardless of the reason, demons or whatever, way I see it, in New Jerusalem we have food and a bed to sleep on. The more I thought ‘bout leaving, more I realized I’d die if I was out there. I worked as a waiter before all this. I'm no survivalist. No sir, not me.”

  Lisa sipped a spoonful of soup. "So you seriously can't leave?"

  "I don’t know if can’t is the right word," Landon chuckled to himself. "Oh, I heard a story about a guy who up and left one day, but he came crawling back the next and the Preacher wouldn’t let him back in. Took place before I got here, so I don’t know exactly what happened. But most folks here wouldn't even consider it. And by most I mean all. They believe in the Preacher. To them he’s the voice’a God-”

  “So you’re telling us you guys didn’t hear the President's broadcast?" asked Eddy.

  "President's broadcast? When? About what? We don't have a
radio or any TV or anything here."

  Just then a tall, muscular man entered the room unannounced. There were scars on his face where hair no longer grew, and when he spoke there was a certain grumbly bass to his tone. "LT, let's go.”

  “Okay, Blake, one sec.”

  While Landon collected the empty bowls and stacked them on his tray, Blake moved aside as two others entered the room.

  The first was a man who carried a satchel slung around his shoulder. The one trailing him was a female with beady eyes and a scornful face. She carried an armful of clean towels with a box of first aid materials on top.

  "Vernon, after you and Mrs. Christie tend to them, the Preacher needs you."

  “We know. We just came from the Church,” the man with the satchel replied.

  Before turning to leave, Landon leaned in and said, "I guess I'll be seeing you guys around. Ever need more food, you can find me at the saloon."

  Nick and the girls thanked Landon and waved goodbye before Blake shut the door.

  “Hello everyone. My name is Vernon Becklan and this is Alice Christie.”

  “That will be Mrs. Christie to you people,” the woman corrected.

  “Right,” Vernon mumbled, digging through his case. Piece by piece, he began to remove medical equipment in preparation for treatment. “Unless there are more pressing injuries, I will begin with you.”

  “Ye-ow,” Eddy grunted as he adjusted his leg. “Glad you’re here, Doc. Pain’s startin’ to come back.”

  “To be truthful, I’m not actually a licensed medical doctor, more of a physician,” Vernon replied bluntly. As he removed Eddy’s pant leg with scissors, he inspected the compound fracture and asked, "How long ago did this happen?"

  Eddy looked to Nick and the two men estimated the elapsed time. “Around six this morning?”

  "And how does your leg feel?"

  Eddy cringed as the anger that had once masked the pain, began to fade. "Hurts like a sonuvabitch.”

  Mr. Becklan adjusted his glasses and gave Eddy a look of irritation. "I need a better description. Tingly, shooting pain, throbbing?"