by Ellis, Tara
Jess had heard enough. “Stop!” she cried. She was confused, scared, and didn’t know what to believe. It was possible Mr. Van was right, and her dad was just trying to find the best way to help the most people. She stared at him, searching her father’s face for some sort of an emotional response to Kavish’s accusation, but saw nothing. “You’re setting the resort up like a community?” she pressed, wanting…needing to believe in her dad. “To help anyone who’s survived?”
Eric scratched at the space between his eyebrows, looking bored by the conversation. “In the years to come, it’s going to take a certain set of skills and…personality traits to not only survive, but flourish in this world.” Cocking his head at Jess, the coldness in his eyes couldn’t be missed. “It’s clear to me who does and does not meet those requirements, and I am taking the appropriate action. You, Jessica, are my responsibility so I’m making an exception. Same as for Mr. Van, who has proven his usefulness.”
Jess grabbed at her stomach, feeling like she’d been punched. Why was he talking that way? She fought back a sob. A release to mourn the loss of her father. “Dad!” she gasped as Akuba stepped up next to her. Her voice caught, and she didn’t know what else to say.
“You should call me Eric,” her father said matter-of-factly, as he turned back to the barn. “And you now have less than an hour to get your things packed.”
Akuba pulled Jess against her in a protective embrace, reminding her she wasn’t alone. “I’m staying here,” she choked out. “It’s our home, Dad.”
With his back to them, Eric paused at the entrance. Jess would have normally thought he was angry, but as he pivoted in their direction, it was even more upsetting to discover her defiance hadn’t made an impact. “Though your decision is flawed, I’m not going to force you.” A small twist of his lips was the only indication he might have been conflicted. “Stay here, then. I have other responsibilities to tend to and don’t have time to debate it with you.”
Before he could move away, Jess tried one last time. “How can you just leave? You’re my dad!”
He shook his head, and took the final step in solidifying the fact that Jess’s world would never be the same. “No, Jessica. I’m not your father.”
Chapter 20
PETA
Black Site, CDC Bio Level 4 Lab
Southern California
Peta was at risk of losing the small breakfast she’d eaten prior to leaving Mads’ house, a few hours earlier in the pre-dawn light. They’d either gotten incredibly lucky or had made a horrible mistake. She wasn’t yet convinced of which one it was.
After finding out who they were and what their goal was, the pilot was rather accommodating. His orders had been to help secure Dr. Schaefer, and after a thorough search of her home, fly her to the lab. With everything down, navigation was done by line-of-sight, so they hadn’t been expected to make the three-hour flight back until dawn.
Though risky, it was an incredible opportunity to get the information where it needed to go. Without another option, they stayed at Mads’ one more night and flew to the Black Site in the morning with their willing hostage. Once in short-range distance with the onboard radio, Peta had done her best to explain who they were, and why they were being delivered instead of Doctor Madeline Schaefer.
Peta rubbed at a growing bruise on her ribs, where she could still feel the blunt end of the automatic rifle that had greeted her. It was made clear throughout the past three hours of tests, decontamination, and intense scrutiny, that being shot wasn’t off the table.
“You’re supposed to be dead.”
Grimacing at the accurate assessment, Peta focused on the high-ranking officer seated across from her and tried to look confident. Finally, she was talking to someone who would at least listen. “That’s what ICONS wanted you to believe. They’re the ones who got us off the islands, and after transferring us with the evacuees from Diego Garcia, held us at Hill Air Force Base.”
“Where you say you escaped, during the Yellowstone eruption?” The man cleared his throat, and glanced around the large table at the others gathered in the meeting room. So, someone had at least been taking notes.
They were on the top floor of a rather innocuous-looking cement building, located in the desert of Southern California. Once inside, it was clear that it was much more than it appeared to be. Peta had never seen so much advanced technology housed in one location. Even the Level One lab she’d had glimpses of rivaled the most sophisticated projects she’d been a part of. It went a long way to bolster her confidence that they were where they needed to be, but she still had to convince the people running it.
“Look,” Devon said, leaning forward from his spot next to Peta. “We don’t care if you believe us or not. Because we don’t care about ICONS anymore, or even what you do with us once we’re done with our work here. At this point, all that matters,” he continued, pointing at the stack of notebooks and papers sitting on the table. “Is what’s in these documents.”
Peta was glad to have Devon there, but found herself wishing Hernandez, Tyler, and his father were also with them. It made her nervous. After going through the rigorous decon and some blood tests, she and Devon were the only two allowed outside of containment.
Studying the three uniformed soldiers and two scientists that made up their interrogation panel, Peta was afraid they weren’t getting through to them. The basic respirators they wore revealed enough to make that much obvious. “We’re wasting time,” she huffed, pushing back from the table. Standing, she swiped her hand across the pile of papers, spreading them out like a deck of cards. “It’s all there!” she implored. “The research Dr. Schaefer compiled. The information your “team” was willing to kill for.” Reaching into the front pocket of her jeans, Peta pulled out the thumb drive and tossed it into the mix. “And that contains the documents proving the existence of a novel thermophile in the MOHO. It supports the theory I’ve been trying to explain to you since I got here.” Shifting her attention to a woman in a white lab coat with the name “Ann” above the pocket, she pointed a finger at her. “I know you can’t just take my word for it. I understand that it’s hard to believe, but you’re obligated to examine this. Considering what’s at stake,” she said, looking pointedly at each person. “You all have a responsibility to investigate this without bias.”
“We have nothing to do with ICONS,” the ranking officer said with some heat, standing opposite Peta. The stars on his uniform, in combination with his commanding demeanor left no doubt that he was in charge. “Our interests are the same as yours.”
Peta suspected he was in control of a lot of things. She narrowed her eyes at him. “If that’s true, then you’ll care less about the hitmen we intercepted at Mads’ house, and more about finding a cure!” she countered, not giving a damn about his rank.
“Admiral Young,” one of the soldiers flanking him quickly interjected, holding out a hand before he could react. “If you’ll allow me?” When the Admiral responded by sitting and leaning back in his seat while still glaring at Peta, the younger man turned and motioned at her to do the same. “Doctor, your encounter with the retrieval team was an incredibly…unfortunate misunderstanding. However, the fact that you’re standing here with the work Dr. Schaefer was compiling for us, indicates our common goals.”
“Right,” Ann interrupted, waving both of her hands in the air like she was batting at flies. “So, if everyone is done grandstanding, maybe we can take all of this down to my lab? With hundreds of millions already dead, and thousands more dying while we’re sitting here chatting, I don’t give a flying crap about anyone’s feelings. You could pull out your gun right now, Admiral, and put a bullet in that woman’s head and I’d be fine with that, too. Except, I think I might need her.”
Admiral Young grunted in agreement, and Peta shifted to study the other woman with some palpable indignation. Ann’s graying hair was haphazardly pulled back in a loose pony, with several wild strands sticking out around the face pl
ate on the mask. She was pale, had bags under her eyes, and couldn’t sit still. Peta suspected she’d had very little sleep and was running on nothing more than caffeine, or maybe a stronger stimulant. She had no doubt Ann meant what she said, and that the woman might not be completely sane. As they moved into the ninth day of constant catastrophes and faced an increasingly undeniable extinction-level pathogen, more people would be breaking down mentally.
However, in spite of having her murder mentioned so casually, Peta was encouraged by the woman’s desire to get to work. That was all she wanted. “It won’t take more than the afternoon to go over everything,” Peta said with fresh enthusiasm, keeping any malice from her voice. “If this is a bio-level four lab, I’m assuming you’ll have the ability to break this all down and isolate the thermophile. If we’re extremely lucky, we’ll also get the archaea’s interaction with the prion. But any real chance of documenting that, or figuring out a way to counter it, will mean going to the source.”
Ann waved her off before standing. “We’ve got your jar of sunshine downstairs as we speak.” Gathering up the notebooks and papers, she dropped the thumb drive into her lab coat’s front pocket and nodded toward the male scientist beside her. “Garrett here will head the group handling that, while you and I delve into this delightful puzzle. This, in combination with our increasing data on those with immunity and the few who’ve recovered, should give us what we need. With any luck we’ll manage to do it before we’re all dead.”
“Recovered?” Devon asked, exchanging a look with Peta. “People are surviving the infection?”
There was a heavy silence in the room, and Peta experienced a fresh surge of unease when no one answered right away. Garrett looked at her then, and while he was also obviously exhausted, she could tell the guy still had a firm grasp on reality. He was scared.
“It’s an extremely small percentage,” Ann finally said, stepping away from the table with the research pulled tight against her chest. “And they appear to have some…brain damage. We’re focusing what limited resources and time we have on the immune, such as yourself. We’re in a race against the clock.”
“Which is why we need to get to the source,” Peta insisted, jumping at the opening. “I gather you don’t do much field work?” she asked Ann. When the woman only glared back at her, she kept pushing. “If you had, you’d understand why it’s going to be essential in unlocking the secrets of The Kuru.”
“This isn’t up for discussion,” Ann snapped. She gave a barely perceptible nod at the Admiral. “Especially now that you and your X-Men are here.”
Looking annoyed at his co-worker’s flippancy, Garrett stared apologetically first at Devon, and then Peta. “We’ve been assuming that immunity is primarily genetic, with some random combination of environmental and previous infections influencing it. But now your…cluster. It may very well change how we’ve been looking at things.”
“Cluster?” Peta asked. “What do you mean by cluster?”
“The other two guys with you are goners,” Ann said without any compassion. “But the kid is immune. That makes three out of five, which in the realm of The Kuru theater are some astounding odds. So, even if you didn’t come bearing such sweet gifts, I would’ve been happy to study you.”
Peta’s head reeled. She, Devon, and Tyler were all immune? Bill was obviously very sick when they arrived, but Hernandez…
Some unseen signal prompted the only door in the room to open, and two armed soldiers entered. “They’ll be escorting you to your accommodations,” Admiral Young told Devon.
As the two soldiers went to stand behind Devon, Peta jumped to her feet and grabbed at his arm. “I need my team with me!”
Admiral Young scoffed. “Your team was comprised of a kid, a high school teacher, and a low-ranking pilot who couldn’t keep his loyalties straight. It’s a miracle you’ve survived this long.” He tugged at his jacket and then pointed at Peta. “The only place you’re going is to the lab at the bottom of this building. Everyone else will serve their own purpose.”
Devon was jerked roughly to his feet as the Admiral, flanked by his entourage, headed for the exit. Her face burning, Peta’s nostrils flared as she drew upon all of her willpower to stay in control of her emotions. They had all known that as soon as they landed, their fate was out of their hands. They didn’t have any other options, not if they wanted to help. Plus, Bill would have probably been dead by the end of the day without the advanced intervention they were giving him.
If what they were saying was true, and their group had some sort of abnormally high immunity, she’d have to agree that getting to the bottom of that must be a top priority. Except Peta didn’t like it when the orders were coming from someone other than herself. She didn’t handle the lack of control very well, and she could feel the constantly brewing anxiety building up to an explosive level.
“Doctor Kelly?” Garrett was glancing nervously between Peta and the armed guards, who were dangerously close to a tug-of-war with her over Devon. “He’ll be okay. You have my word.”
Devon gently pulled his arm away from her, and offered a tense smile. “We all agreed we’d have to do our part.” Leveling Peta with a commanding gaze as he began to walk backward, Devon gestured at Ann. “Go figure this out. And ask yourself, what would Henry do?”
What would Henry do…
Peta squared her shoulders. Devon was right, and his message behind the reminder couldn’t be misconstrued. She’d go with Ann and Garrett, but she wasn’t about to concede the investigation she’d unknowingly started weeks before the eruption even happened. There was too much at stake.
They weren’t at the end of the trail they’d been lead down, and it was up to Peta to get the other scientists on track with her. To make them see what she did, and arrive at the same conclusions. That had been Henry’s specialty, and where she had always faltered.
As Peta began her descent to what was likely the most dangerous room in the world, she retreated to a space within herself until all that remained was a cool, outer shell.
The X-men.
She almost smiled. Her secret power wasn’t the immunity. It was the ability to compartmentalize. Peta would become the scientist, the leader, the cold-hearted professional that was needed to save the world.
And in the end, the question would be if there was enough left for someone to save her.
Chapter 21
TYLER
Black Site, Level-4 CDC Biolab
Southern California
Tyler was sick with fear.
It was the same heavy, cloying nausea he’d experienced back on Madagascar, while down in the bunker with his dad. Sitting next to the cot, holding his father’s hand, Tyler would have given anything to go back to that day. As bad and desperate as he’d felt, it was still better than watching his dad die a slow, agonizing death.
“Can’t you give him something else for the pain?” he called out to a nurse walking by with a clipboard. At least, Tyler thought he was a nurse. It was impossible to tell who or what anyone was underneath the moonsuits they were wearing. Unlike the almost transparent protective jumpsuit he was required to wear over his own clothes, the thick yellow plastic obstructed everything.
Hesitating, the guy turned awkwardly toward him and flipped through the chart, moving his head up so he could see out of the face shield. “Sorry,” the man answered after he finally found what he was looking for. “I’m afraid Bill has already had the maximum dose of morphine. He’ll be due in another half-hour. I’ll be back.”
Tyler watched the yellow marshmallow waddle away. It had to have some sort of air thingie that inflated it from the inside, because it was pushing out like it was under pressure, and he could hear a low whirring sound whenever one of them was nearby.
“Tyler,” his dad croaked as he attempted to reach out for him.
Feeling guilty for having let his hand go, Tyler jumped back to his side and sat in the hard-plastic chair that had been pulled up next to the c
ot for him. Interlacing their fingers, he gave his dad’s arm a small tug to let him know he was there. “I got ya, Dad,” he whispered. It wasn’t because he didn’t want anyone else to hear him, but because he didn’t trust his voice not to break.
The long, narrow room was made of cement. Almost the whole thing; including the floor, walls, and ceiling. In that regard, they may as well be in the bunker, except the smell and front wall made of plexiglass made that fantasy impossible to drum up. They weren’t alone, on either the inside of the room or the outside.
There were ten cots total, and all but one of them was full. The last holdout was for Hernandez, and he refused to lie down on it. Instead, he was stubbornly lounging in a chair similar to Tyler’s, except that he had two IV’s trailing from his arms.
Tyler didn’t know why he wasn’t sick, too. Until they brought in another cot for him, he took it as a good sign. His blood had been drawn at least once an hour since he’d gotten there, so that his arms were starting to look like pin-cushions. The group of what he assumed were doctors gathering on the other side of the plexiglass ebbed and flowed as some left and others arrived. He felt like a specimen, and didn’t even know why.
The smell was from the vomiting several of the patients were suffering from, and the feces of those unable to get out of bed. No matter how many of the moonsuits came in, or how often they took the vomit bags and soiled linen out, the putrid odor permeated everything.
“You should…leave,” Bill said, his voice thick and slurred. “Nothing you—” wincing, he gagged as he tried to swallow and then took a moment to focus on Tyler again. “Nothing you can do.”
Tyler refused to give up on his dad. As bad as he was, it was still an improvement from when they’d first arrived some six hours earlier. The fluids, antibiotics, steroids, anti-nausea meds, and pain medication was making a difference. He could even move his left arm a little, and his fever wasn’t nearly as bad. Tyler was clinging to the belief that Peta and Devon would whip up some miracle treatment and save him. His dad wouldn’t die. He couldn’t.
