by Dirk Patton
I looked around, agreeing with her. It was the perfect spot for a home.
“And a garden right over there,” she continued, pointing out the location. “Easy to water from the lake, and we’d have fresh produce in the summer. Canned in the winter.”
She was excited, her mood infectious and placing a big smile on my face as I pictured the two of us living here. Well, more than the two of us. Facing her, I placed my hand on her swollen belly. Was sure I felt the baby kick.
I turned when Dog barked, seeing him jump in the air as a large, yellow butterfly flapped around his head. Katie laughed at his antics, then pulled me down into a long kiss. Dog ran over and began shoving his muzzle against my hand. I tried to ignore him, but he was insistent.
Opening my eyes, I came face to face with him. With a start, I looked around the Spartan room deep beneath the Nevada desert. I was lying on a single bunk, Dog having awakened me from a dream.
The hypothermia method had worked on the test subjects. They had awakened after the cure had time to work, apparently with all faculties intact. But they were damaged. Not in any physical way, but emotionally. Psychologically.
Some part of their minds remembered what they had become and the things they’d done. It wasn’t long before each fell into a catatonic state. Prior to slipping away, several of them begged Kanger and Joe to kill them. They were unable to live with the memories of having been in an infected rage.
Dog nuzzled me again, then grabbed the thin blanket covering my body in his teeth and dragged it onto the floor. He needed to go out.
“Should have taken care of that when I told you, dumbass,” I grumbled, swinging my feet to the floor.
I dressed quickly, laced up my boots and grabbed my rifle. Dog was already standing at the door, dancing in urgency to go. He raced out the moment it was open far enough for him to fit, stopping at the elevator down the hall.
Taking pity on him, I hurried to where he waited and pushed the call button. It came quickly, and we rode up, then worked our way through the maze and out into the darkness of a cool, desert night. As soon as we stepped out of the building, Dog raced away, heading for a broad stretch of sand that bordered the tarmac.
Taking a look around, I noted the Rangers and Marines spread out on sentry duty. One of them waved before turning back to his area of responsibility. Lighting a cigarette, I slowly strolled across the pavement in Dog’s wake.
It was chilly, a breeze blowing from the north. The cloudless sky was filled with stars and my mind quickly went to all the times Katie and I had sat outside at night, watching the heavens. Not talking, just enjoying being close to each other.
“Can’t sleep?”
I jumped when Colonel Blanchard spoke behind me.
“Probably better I don’t,” I said, remembering the dream. “Besides. Somebody had to go.”
I gestured in Dog’s direction and he chuckled.
“Just got off the phone with Pearl,” he said, moving to walk with me. “We’re pulling out tomorrow.”
“Hawaii?” I asked.
“Yes. The Russians have retreated. They’re consolidating their forces, and it looks like they’re getting ready to go home.”
“I thought we hit them with the infection,” I said, surprised before I remembered the entry in the diary I’d found on the dead Russian.
“No. Just the nerve agent. It’s only viable for 48 hours. Their country is decimated, corpses filling the streets, but the agent is burned out. Other than radiation from the reactors we destroyed, the environment is safe.”
“So what now? The VIPs live in luxury in Australia while their troops go in and clean up the mess at home? And they get away with it?”
“Above my pay grade.” Blanchard shrugged.
We had reached the edge of the pavement. I could faintly see Dog as he nosed around. Never satisfied with just taking care of his biological needs, he’d taken to hunting the small ground squirrels that populated the area. I didn’t think he had a chance in hell of actually catching one, but he never gave up trying. Maybe that’s why I love dogs so much. They’re the ultimate, eternal optimist.
“What are you going to do?” Blanchard asked in a tentative voice.
“I don’t know,” I said. “Thought I’d have more time to decide. Did you talk to the Admiral?”
“I did. And the answer is the same. No known infected person will be allowed to enter Hawaii. The medical community is firm in their opinion that it poses too great a risk. They’re concerned about a mutation in the virus that would negate the protection of the vaccine. We’re going to be in isolation and decontamination for the first 30 days once we arrive. They’ve prepared a special location, just for us.”
“So Nicole can’t go either?” I asked.
Blanchard shook his head. I checked on Dog, then lit another cigarette. I was smoking too much, but didn’t really care.
“Lieutenant Sam and Master Chief Gonzales are staying behind with her. Hoping Kanger can come up with something new once he gets set up in Hawaii, and there’s also people in Australia working on the problem.”
“They aren’t optimistic,” I groused, having been updated by Joe after dinner the previous evening.
“No. They aren’t,” Blanchard agreed.
We looked when the door into the building across the tarmac banged as someone closed it too hard. A figure stood in the dark, looking around, then began approaching. I recognized the walk, the long hair blowing in the night breeze. It was Rachel.
“Well, I’d better get some rack time,” Blanchard said.
He turned and headed for the building. Rachel exchanged greetings with him as they passed at the half way point. Dog flashed past me a second later, running to escort her the rest of the way to where I was standing. She walked up and took the cigarette from my hand.
“You could just ask for one,” I grumbled.
“I prefer yours,” she smiled.
I humphed and pulled out a new one.
“I don’t know what to do,” I said after getting it lit. “Especially now. Everyone’s pulling out in the morning. Heading to Hawaii.”
“You can’t keep her sedated,” Rachel said.
“I know that,” I snapped, taking her hand and apologizing for my tone.
We stood there for several minutes, smoking. Dog, bored with hunting, sat near us and kept watch on the closest sentry.
“Let her go,” Rachel finally said in a timid voice.
“What? You mean…”
“No! I didn’t mean that. I was being literal. Set her free. She’s at the top of the food chain. She’ll survive. If the researchers come up with something, then come get her. Until then, what other choice do you have?”
“Is that what you’d want if you were infected?” I asked.
“It doesn’t matter what I’d want,” Rachel said. “This isn’t about me.”
“That’s not an answer.”
“You don’t want my answer,” she said, field stripping the butt of her smoke and shoving it in her pocket.
“I wouldn’t have asked if I didn’t,” I said.
Rachel stared off into the darkness for a bit, then heaved a sigh before facing me.
“If I ever become infected, I want you to put a bullet right between my eyes,” she said with total conviction. “After seeing those poor women that fell into a catatonic state, I don’t want to live if I’m one of them.”
“Why?”
“They remember what they were! That most likely means there was a part of them that was aware of what had happened. Was horrified at the raging monsters they’d become, but were unable to do anything other than witness the hideous acts they committed. I don’t want that.”
I was quiet for a long time. Thinking about what Rachel had just said. Putting myself into the scenario, and realizing I agreed with her. I wouldn’t want to live with it either.
“Can they save her?” I asked, trying to hold back tears.
Rachel heard it in my vo
ice, turning and gently rubbing my upper arm as she looked in my eyes.
“They have the cure,” she said softly. “It’s the psychological part that is the problem now. Maybe, before the attacks, with the right therapist, drugs and enough time, the damage could be managed. Not undone. The human mind doesn’t work like that. But if a person was strong enough, emotionally, perhaps they could eventually be helped and have a chance at a normal life. Now?”
I stared at her for a long time, processing what she’d said. Knew she was right. Then the tears began to flow and I fought to suppress a sob. Started to turn away, too prideful to allow her to see my pain.
Grabbing my shoulders, Rachel pulled me around and wrapped me in a hug. Held me as I cried like a child.
46
“You sure you know what you’re doing?”
Rachel looked up and gave me a reassuring smile.
“Yes, I do,” she said patiently. “Plus, Joe and Dr. Kanger made sure I was well versed in the procedure before they left.”
We were standing in an isolation room. Katie, unconscious, was strapped to a gurney between us. Colonel Blanchard, the Rangers and Marines had left several hours ago, just after sunrise. Kanger had started Katie’s cooling process before he boarded a C-130, and Rachel had been closely monitoring her since he departed.
Now, Katie’s body temperature was approaching the target. Thirty-two degrees Celsius. Rachel had turned off the sedation drip that was keeping her out. Kanger wasn’t sure, but had cautioned that it might interfere with the effects of the cure.
“She’s waking up,” Rachel said.
I hadn’t needed the heads up. My attention had been focused on my wife. I’d noticed that her fingers had begun twitching. A moment later, she slowly turned her head to the side. I wanted to reach out and touch her face, but it was still covered with the mask that had protected the researchers. I settled for taking her hand in mind.
Suddenly, she gripped my hand hard enough to hurt. I endured the discomfort as her eyes snapped open. Her horrible, red eyes.
They darted around the room, pausing briefly on me before locking on Rachel. She began struggling against the restraints, a scream erupting from her throat. The leather cuffs that held her wrists and ankles were more than adequate to keep her in place, but she tested them as she bucked against the belts around her chest and hips. Rachel did her best to ignore Katie’s struggles and continuous screaming.
“Shouldn’t she be calmer with a lower body temperature?” I asked.
“Not according to Joe,” Rachel answered, preparing a syringe. “She’ll be slowed down, but her body can sustain itself during hypothermia much better than ours.”
I nodded, maintaining my grip on Katie’s hand. She ignored me, her full attention focused on her efforts to reach Rachel.
“I’m ready,” Rachel said, holding up a large syringe for me to see. “Are you sure about this?”
I nodded, unable to speak.
“John,” she said, her voice barely audible over Katie’s screams.
I looked up and met her eyes.
“If this works, but she’s left catatonic…”
“I have to try,” I said, looking back down at Katie.
Rachel nodded, inserted the needle into a port on the IV tubing and depressed the plunger. Nothing changed, immediately, but then I didn’t expect it to. Rachel quickly cleaned up and headed for the door. Katie’s eyes tracked her every step of the way.
“I’ll be close if you need me,” Rachel said, then pushed out of the room.
It was several minutes before Katie stopped screaming. When she did, hope blossomed in my chest and I leaned over her face, talking to her. I thought I saw recognition in her eyes, but I also saw an uncontrollable fury. Then she screamed and I sat on the stool I’d pulled close to the gurney.
Forty-eight hours. That’s how long it took the cure to work. If it was going to work. Sitting there, I started talking to my wife. Told stories about vacations we’d taken. Road trips we’d been on. Talked about the dream house we’d never had the chance to build. The river cruise in Europe she’d wanted to take, but I’d kept putting off because I was too busy.
Sometime later, I looked up at the clock and realized I’d been talking for nearly six hours. That had to be a record for me. I’ve never been a big talker, and more than a few sentences at a time was unusual. But as I sat there, everything had poured out.
I looked at the equipment monitoring Katie’s status. Her heart rate and blood pressure were high, but her body temperature hadn’t changed. The machine that was cooling her blood hummed away in the corner, doing its job. I wish I’d asked how soon she would develop a fever, but I hadn’t thought to pose the question.
Katie had calmed, her eyes frequently closing for long stretches of time. At first, I’d thought she was lapsing into unconsciousness from the hypothermia, but the grip on my hand never wavered. Stayed solid, her fingers like iron. I didn’t know if it was because she knew it was me, or because that’s what an infected does when something is in their hand.
I was numb to the elbow from the pressure. But I wasn’t going to let go. If the cure worked, and she came back to me, I wanted my hand in hers to be the first thing she felt. The first thing she was aware of.
The door opened quietly and Rachel stepped into the room. I glanced up, noting eight hours had passed. We were in one of the stretches where Katie’s eyes were closed, so there wasn’t an immediate, screaming reaction to Rachel’s presence.
“You need a break,” Rachel said quietly in my ear, her hand resting gently on my back.
I shook my head.
“Look. I know you plan to stay here with her the whole time. But you at least need water, and some food wouldn’t hurt. I made you an MRE. It’s on the desk outside the door. Go eat and get something to drink. Have a smoke. I’ll stay with her until you come back.”
“Shouldn’t her temp be coming up by now?” I asked, ignoring what Rachel had just said.
“Some of the test subjects responded right away. Others, not for almost eighteen hours,” Rachel said.
I nodded and only pried my hand free of Katie’s grip because I badly needed to use the restroom.
“You’ll stay here?” I asked Rachel as I stood.
“I’ll be right here,” she said, moving to the far end of the room so Katie couldn’t see her if she woke up.
I took another look at my wife, then left the room. Took care of business and gobbled down the MRE Rachel had left for me. Standing where I could see through a glass, observation window, I smoked a cigarette.
Returning to the isolation room, I resumed my seat and took Katie’s hand in mine. This time, there was no iron grip, just a gentle closing of her fingers around mine. Rachel looked like she wanted to say something, but apparently decided to keep whatever it was to herself.
The time passed slowly, probably even more so because my eyes were glued to the monitors. Waiting for a change in Katie’s internal temperature. At the eighteen-hour mark, it was still solidly on 32. Rachel came in, checked the displays and started to leave.
“It’s not going up,” I said, hearing the anguish in my voice.
“Give it time,” she said, then left.
At twenty hours, there was still no change. I caught a glimpse of Rachel standing outside, looking through the window. At twenty-four hours, she came back in the room.
“Why isn’t it changing?” I asked.
“The cure may not work on her,” Rachel said, looking anywhere other than at me. “Dr. Kanger said it was ninety percent effective. She may be one of the ten percent it doesn’t work on.”
Despair took me at that point. I’d had hope. Belief that my wife could be saved. I knew how strong she was. Didn’t believe for an instant that if the infection could be beaten that she’d succumb to the psychological effects. That wasn’t her. She was too strong and too fucking stubborn to sit in a corner and give up.
But if the cure didn’t work on her…
47
I sat in the sand with my knees pulled to my chest, forearms resting on them, and stared at a point between my feet. Dog lay in the sun, a few yards away, panting softly. A pistol was in my right hand, but I wasn’t sure what I was going to do with it. Pain, rage and despair all coursed through me. I guess I’d decide what the weapon was for once one of them won the battle for control.
It was mid-afternoon and the sun baked my shaved head and shoulders. It was warm enough for sweat to form on my scalp and slowly run down to drip off my nose. Each drop made a small, dark splotch on the sand until the moisture completely evaporated. I was fascinated, watching each spot and counting how long it took for it to disappear.
Several minutes later, a small, yellow scorpion crawled by. It was apparently on a mission and not interested in me. Up and over the toe of my boot, then on about its business. I let it go in peace.
I looked up when a large shadow blocked the sun. It was Igor, a bouquet of wildflowers tightly gripped in his rough hand. He stared at me for a moment, looked at the pistol I was holding, then sat on the sand by my side.
We sat there for a long time, neither of us speaking, each lost in his own thoughts. Finally, I couldn’t take the distraction of his presence any longer.
“What?”
“I pay respects,” he said, wiggling the hand holding the flowers.
I nodded, then resumed watching my sweat dropping onto the sand.
“What you do with gun?” Igor asked a few minutes later.
“Haven’t decided yet,” I said, watching the last of a dark spot evaporate.
Igor grunted and went quiet. We sat there for nearly half an hour before he spoke again.
“Rachel worried for you,” he said. “Woman love you.”
“I know,” I nodded.
“She not your wife, but you love her?”
“Yes,” I said after several minutes had passed.
Igor didn’t say anything, and after a few more minutes I asked him a question.
