The System (Virulent Book 2)

by Shelbi Wescott

  “I can’t know for sure unless we can compare him to others like him…”

  Huck waved this impediment away too. “You are the best, Scott. You will submit a full report and you will deal with it. And in the meantime…I promised your daughter that she could see him.”

  Scott stayed still, but his left leg twitched. After a moment, he rubbed his forehead with his pointer finger. “Oh,” he muttered. “Well, then, Lucy must have had a compelling argument…I’m impressed. I’m sure she’ll be very grateful…”

  “Her arguments were weak. Based on the assumption that someone deserves to live simply because they’ve been born. In the end, I told her it was up to you.” Huck rose and paced the length of the room, his hands behind his back, and Scott watched. “I figured,” he continued, “that you’d want to make that decision…since you appear to need to play God.”

  “What?” Scott remained seated, but his eyes followed Huck’s pacing. “I don’t know what that means.”

  Huck stopped and locked his eyes into Scott’s and Scott resisted the urge to look away first. “You know…deciding on your own to go against what we had outlined. You have some explaining to do, Mr. King.”

  “I don’t know what—”

  “I trusted you,” Huck seethed through a clenched jaw. “We had rules. You, who were asked to enforce the vaccinations…”

  Scott’s heart began thumping in his chest and his leg picked up momentum. Huck leaned over the desk, and he pointed a shaky finger at Scott’s chest, his face a full blanket of accusation.

  “Huck,” Scott started. “Do you have something you need to ask me specifically?” He asked the question, put it out there, although he knew where this was headed. He knew the minute he was summoned that this was not a friendly visit.

  “You have created variables, Scott. Do you understand the ramifications of your actions? You have single-handedly jeopardized the rescue mission of your son—”

  “Wait—”

  “How can I send my men to go get Ethan if I don’t know what waits for them there? I asked you to create a secondary virus and I’ll need it. Now.”

  “It’s not ready…and I’ll need Grant to complete my testing…”

  “Then Ethan will stay where he is. He is lost to you.”

  “Huck—” Scott felt clammy. He stood up, so he could face Huck eye-to-eye. The old man came out from around his desk and stood next to Scott, his nostrils flared in and out.

  “You abused the position I gave to you…while those people begged for extra vaccines, begged to save one more person…you hid them away? You used my time and my money to create problems for me down the road? Do you have any idea how annoyed I am by this betrayal?”

  “It was my vaccine. My creation,” Scott stammered. “I created the extras on my own time…”

  “If your family failed to meet the vaccination date by the vaccination time…that was your fault. Those were our rules. Your rules, even. You stood beside me and upheld the statute despite tears and panic with dozens of other families.”

  “I was worried. I thought if I had them at my disposal, why shouldn’t I try to protect them in case…”

  “You told them where we were. The first violation. You left behind our only commodity. The second violation.” Huck slammed his fist down upon the desk and Scott took a step back, and he looked down at the carpeted floor and stared at his own plain brown shoes. “How many vials did you leave behind?” Huck asked after taking a breath.

  “Six,” Scott whispered.

  “Lucy told me two of those went to a woman and her son. A young child.”

  Scott knew what was coming next. He closed his eyes and held his breath.

  “Decide their fate,” Huck said. “You created them. You tell me what I should do with them.”

  “They are accidents. Those vaccines weren’t supposed to leave my family, Huck. I’m sorry.” Scott shook his head and took another tentative step backward.

  “Decide!”

  “Kill them,” Scott said. “That solves it…that fixes it. We kill them.” He said the order softer now. He closed his eyes and tried to push the image of the woman and her young son away. His vaccines had saved them and now his decision killed them. His stomach ached.

  Huck stomped to the office door and opened it; then he called out, “Get me the General.” Then he slammed the door and walked back to Scott.

  “I’m sorry,” Scott replied, wiping his brow. “I didn’t think beyond that…didn’t think that they would use the vaccines for others.”

  “You didn’t assume they’d use it? To save friends? Or help others? To trade?” Huck asked, dripping with supercilious contempt. “Then I overestimated you. And you underestimated them.”

  There was a knock on the door. Both men turned to look as the man Huck called the General waited to enter. Huck motioned for him and the tall man, with dark hair and a buzz-cut walked with brisk, clipped steps into the room. He was dressed in a specially designed uniform. It was notably similar to the guards, but more colorful, and a brass tag identified him as a high-ranking official of the Elektos military. He saluted Huck, but Huck did not return the old-world action.

  The General had been a well-decorated Army general and a multi-war veteran in the former world. But he had traded that position for a job in the Elektos military and a chance to build a new world. The General’s intimate government affiliations were invaluable as they planned the Release and the System. Huck could dream it, but the General could make it happen.

  Even Scott didn’t call him by his actual name, Phillip, but only as the General—which solidified the man’s mystique as Huck’s third-in-command behind Gordy. It was the General who helped Huck hide his building development and recruit cabinet members. He was intimidating and severe: as unapproachable as Scott was personable.

  “Where are the planes?” Huck asked without formalities.

  “At the runways. Fueled and ready. The System in Botswana isn’t expecting you for another week, sir,” the General said, he relaxed his shoulders a bit, but his face stayed rigid and focused on Huck, following the leader’s actions with his eyes.

  “Rescue mission in Oregon,” Huck stated and if the General was surprised, he didn’t flinch. Huck walked back to his desk and stood behind it, resting his hands against the wood. “We’ve decided to go back for someone.”

  “We could be ready to go within the day. Depending on the team. Urban or rural location?”

  “Urban,” Huck answered.

  “We have available helicopters outside Portland. Two at the Hillsboro airport…”

  Huck cut him short. “I don’t need the details. Between all the travel arrangements…when could you get to the location?”

  “Tomorrow morning.”

  “I want you to go with them,” Huck commanded.

  “My team is quite capable of leading a rescue mission without me,” the General replied. Then he added, “sir.”

  “It’s more complicated than that.” Huck wagged a finger. Then he turned to Scott. “Tell him his orders,” he instructed and the General shifted his attention to Scott, his eyes narrowing.

  “My son…Ethan…I’ll give you my address, I believe he’s still at home. But my daughter said he was injured badly…hit by a car. We don’t have any other details…”

  The General nodded, waiting for the rest.

  “Go on,” Huck said. “Tell him about the variables.”

  Scott looked at Huck, his jaw tightened, and he swallowed. “There might be others…a woman for sure, and her child…”

  The General looked to Huck and then to Scott. “How many survivors should we prepare for?” he asked.

  Huck put his hand up to stop the conversation. He looked at Scott expectantly and then turned back to the General, “Bring back only Ethan. Kill the others.”

  “We’ll take care of it,” he said swiftly, without a hint of surprise. Then the General pivoted, poised to
leave.

  “Wait!” Scott yelled and he took a giant step toward Huck. “Wait.”

  Everyone turned to him and stopped. Scott put his hands out toward Huck, pleading.

  “You having a change of heart?” Huck asked with a sneer.

  “Bring back Ethan and the child,” Scott answered. Then he looked to the ground.

  For a long moment, the room was quiet. The room hummed and then Huck turned to Scott. “You heard him. Ethan and the boy. No other survivors. Are we clear?”

  “Yes, sir,” the General replied. “We’ll kill the mother and any other survivors on sight. Bring back the boy and the child. Easy.”

  “You are dismissed. Let me know when you leave and I expect a full debrief when you return,” said Huck and with a nod the General spun and left the room.

  After the door had shut behind him, Huck turned to Scott. “You’re weaker than I predicted.”

  “I know.”

  “I believed more of you.”

  “It was a momentary lapse.”

  “This child will be your responsibility…”

  “Of course,” Scott mumbled. He had no idea how Maxine would react to him adding a seventh child to their brood. But he rested in the comfort that she would stand by his side in the decision to bring the boy back. He didn’t know why he felt compelled to offer the boy a chance at life. Something inside of him couldn’t stomach the idea of killing another child. His hands were bloody enough.

  “I do admire your compassion,” Huck continued, slumping down into his chair. “Don’t get me wrong. You are an admirable man, Scott…but in times of great war and great change, there are hard decisions. The end will justify the means, I believe that and so do you. We have a cause and we have a plan. Do not waver, and do not hesitate. Remain strong.” He put out his hand, palm down, and motioned for Scott. He reached, grabbing Huck’s hand in a side-shake.

  “Of course,” Scott replied again and he tried to pull back, but Huck held on.

  They stood there, with outstretched arms, Huck locked on to Scott.

  “You are one of my most trusted colleagues,” Huck continued. He looked close to tears, his chin wobbled. “It hurts to think you didn’t trust that I would take care of you.”

  “I’m sorry.” Scott looked to the floor. He admired the brown speckled carpet. He could still feel Huck watching him, assessing his every move. And Scott felt his hand go cold. The prolonged handshake felt more ominous the longer it continued.

  Then Huck released him and Scott hesitated for a second before letting his hand drop to his side.

  “I will let you know when the planes leave,” Huck added with mechanical and businesslike air. “We shall welcome Ethan home like the prodigal son. And we shall spin the story of the child…we’ll find a way. Leave the details to me.”

  Scott nodded. Frozen.

  “And…Grant…our stowaway,” Huck said as a reminder. “I expect to be notified when the results are in. And continue to work on our second virus. No matter the outcome with Grant, I still intend to follow-through with a second release. I won’t take any chances before we move to the Islands. Do you understand? I’m done cleaning up all of your messes. Lucy. Grant. Ethan. This child. Make it right or suffer the ultimate consequence. Is that clear enough, Scott?”

  With his eyes steely, cutting into Scott like a saw, opening him piece by piece, Huck sat in his chair. He turned his body away, and after a lingering moment of awkward silence, Scott nodded, turned, and let himself out. Once in the hallway, a safe distance from the man he had followed into the underground System, Scott took a shaky breath. He put his hand out against the wall to steady himself and let all the ramifications of his choices wash over him.

  He knew what he needed to do next.

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  Cass and Lucy sat on the couches in the Center and watched the others around them with idle curiosity. They looked like the picture of teenage apathy: faces drawn in tight-lines, nary a smile in sight, their slender legs hanging over the edges of the cushions, swinging and bouncing to imaginary music.

  While the energy of the other System occupants filled the room with the sound equivalent to a hive of tireless bees, the girls sat in silence. A book from the lending library, next to the movie theater, lay open on Lucy’s lap, open and cracked along the spine. She tried to read and reread the first paragraph at least a dozen times, but her mind drifted to her breakfast with Huck, her fight with her family, and her last moments with Grant. Everything continued to slip into an even more unreal version of itself and Lucy just closed her eyes and tried to pretend that she was back at her real home, in her own gym at Pacific Lake; in this reality Salem was by her side, and they were listening to the boys play basketball during lunch.

  She had just captured the perfect level of transcendence, when she felt the shift around her; there was a disruption in her daydream. Lucy opened a single eye and saw her father standing a few feet away, watching her.

  Cass didn’t move from her spot on the couch. She too looked up at their visitor and before she could say hello, she yawned, covering her mouth with the back of her hand.

  “Good afternoon, Mr. King,” Cass said. “Pop on down for a bit of darts?” she added with a wink.

  “Lucy?” Scott questioned ignoring Cass’s question, and Lucy rolled her head to look at him. “I was heading to the lab…” he paused and ran his fingers through his hair, then he looked to Cass and then back to Lucy. “Do you want to come with me?”

  Swinging her legs down off the edge, Lucy turned. “To see Grant?” She caught a glimpse of her friend in the corner of her eye, who offered her a sly smile.

  Her father nodded.

  She pivoted again and looked at Cass for permission, and the bubbly beauty blew her a kiss.

  “Amuse-toi bien,” Cass said. “Give the boy an extra hug from me…from a friend he’s never met,” she added. And Lucy swung off the couch, her book tumbling to the ground. Tossing it back to the couch, she reciprocated the air-kiss – smacking her hand and waving goodbye to Cass. Lucy’s heart pounded with excitement and an ounce of trepidation—could this be the moment she had hoped for? Had Huck’s words carried any power with her father? Or was her father merely allowing her a proper goodbye? She reserved celebration until she knew for sure, until Grant was free.

  “Does this mean what I think it means?” Lucy asked her father as she walked over to him. She tugged on the back of his shirt. “Does it?”

  “I need to examine some results,” was all her father said and he led the way, picking up his pace. Lucy skipped to keep up. They exited the gym area and made it halfway down the hall before he slowed his stride.

  “Dad—” she continued to press, and Scott spun: he looked so tired and weary, that Lucy hesitated. There were dark circles under his eyes that she had never seen before and his hair seemed peppered with gray. His cheeks were sallow and saggy. She realized that he had aged more in a month than in an entire decade. He seemed like a mere shadow of the man she remembered from their life in Portland. And Lucy’s throat went dry and she started to speak, but no words came out.

  Her father had always been a handsome man. She was young, in elementary school, when she first noticed the way people looked at him—as if his ruggedness, his youthful face, seemed out of place with the rest of his life. They watched him—the attractive scientist, with the ever-growing family—and talked about him behind his back. Then he’d speak, and he’d fumble a joke, refuse a handshake, his neuroses glaring to those who knew him best. It was those small details of her dad that made him so special to her. So real.

  Her hero. Her rock.

  And he ruined everything.

  In an instant, he was nothing like the man she thought raised her. Somewhere, deep down, the Scott King she idolized was still living and breathing beneath the shell, but something else had taken him. He was lost to her.

  It seemed like a lifetime ago when she was sitting in Wyomin
g, playing with the flowers, reluctant to leave the beauty and tranquility of the mountains to join a family forever altered. Deep down, even then, she knew this would happen. Seeing him, facing him, accepting him. She couldn’t forgive him.

  Scott opened his mouth, as if he were to tell her something, then he stopped and turned his head. He measured the way she was looking at him. And his face fell. Then it flashed, with something unrecognizable: fear or scorn, confusion or anger. She braced herself for scolding; prepared for him to unleash the deluge of his pent up emotions. But instead Scott took giant steps back to her and without warning enveloped Lucy in a hug, wrapping his arms around her shoulders.

  “Dad,” she whispered, but Scott hushed her.

  She sunk into him. They stood for a long moment in the hallway just holding each other—a few people scooted around them on their way to the elevators or into the Center, but neither of them minded. Scott pulled back and held Lucy out from him at arm’s length, his hands still on her shoulders.

  “There’s something I have to say—” he started.

  Lucy looked at the ground and pushed her eyes shut; she tried not to cry. When she looked up, she saw the worry on her father’s face. “Just say you’re sorry,” she whispered.

  He flinched at her words and then he drew her back into him. “I’m sorry,” he replied. “There are so many things I wish I could explain. But please know…I never wanted to hurt you.”

  “Will you save Grant?” she asked next, her cheek still pushed against her father’s chest, his heartbeat thumping in her ear.

  There was a period of prolonged silence and Lucy could taste the apprehension in the air. Her father wasn’t convinced Grant was worth saving? Or: he was simply scared. It dawned on her in that moment how fear was the ultimate motivator and perhaps she had spent so much time angry with her dad that she hadn’t been able to recognize his own worries. Still, Lucy didn’t fully understand, and couldn’t rationalize how there was any other option. He had to free Grant.

  “Yes,” he answered. “I will save him.” Then he paused and shook his head. “No, that’s not right. We will save Grant. Or rather, I will save Grant because of you.”