Compound 26

by Krista Street

  It did little to warm me inside, however. I still felt like ice. Quitting would alleviate my guilt over being part of an institution that subjected people to torture, but it wouldn’t help the Kazzies.

  Their abuse would continue.

  More than ever, my feet itched to move. I really needed to go for a run.

  Amy exited on East Tenth Street and drove down to North Summit Avenue. She parked in front of a house in Sioux Falls’ historic neighborhood. It was a large two-story with a red brick exterior. Flower boxes hung from the windows, and hydrangeas dotted the landscape. It looked occupied. The grass was cut, the windows intact. All of the surrounding historic homes were crumbling and neglected, obviously abandoned. I parked on the street behind her, trying to figure out why we were here. Maybe this is Amy’s home and she needs to grab something.

  Amy stepped out of her car and waited on the sidewalk. She waved for me to join her. Grabbing my purse, I got out.

  “Deceiving, isn’t it?” Amy crossed her arms.

  “What is?” I slung my purse over my shoulder.

  “This!” She waved at the house. “This is Sean’s Pub.”

  “Seriously?”

  She merely nodded and pulled me up the cracked concrete walkway, nervously chatting the entire way. “When my dad first took me here, I thought it was a joke. I pictured some little, old lady opening the door, but this place is legit. It’s even legal. The guy who owns it is a family friend of ours. He bought this house a few years ago, fixed it up, and got a permit from the city to turn it into a pub. He’s originally from Ireland and brews everything himself in the basement.”

  “How come I’ve never heard of it?” We climbed creaky, sagging porch steps.

  “Sean doesn’t advertise. Those of us that know about it, tend to keep it to ourselves. The beer’s good and reasonably priced. If everyone knew that, this place would be busting at the seams.”

  There weren’t any signs or hours listed in the window. Amy opened the door without knocking and stepped inside.

  I followed her into an entryway and was greeted with the smell only found in old homes. It wasn’t bad, just old.

  Folk music played from further inside. I didn’t recognize the tune. A dozen hooks and two coat trees cluttered the entryway.

  I followed Amy into what was probably a living room and kitchen at one point but was now a large, quiet seating area and bar. The design was simple. Several stuffed chairs and couches circled a small, cold fireplace. Dining chairs and tables were scattered throughout. A long, mahogany bar ran the length of the back wall. Faded wallpaper was covered with a smattering of Irish décor. An old Irish flag hung next to us with a blackboard beside it. Chalked numbers on the board read, 183 days till St. Paddy’s Day.

  I probably would have found the place charming if my mind wasn’t so preoccupied with Davin and knowing my days at the Compound were over.

  “Amy, my dear, it’s good to see you, love!” An older gentleman with a bushy white mustache appeared through a door from a back room. He wiped his hands on a towel and positioned himself behind the bar. I guessed he’d once had black hair to go with his blue eyes. A dark Irish.

  Amy ran a hand through her curls. “You too, Sean. This is my friend, Meghan.”

  Sean smiled as Amy and I settled on the bar stools. “Any friend of Amy’s is a friend of mine.” His soft accent lilted pleasantly.

  I did my best to smile, but my anxiety cranked up a notch.

  He slung the towel over his shoulder. “What can I get you girls?”

  “Do you like beer?” Amy asked me.

  “Um, sure.” I didn’t dare tell Amy I’d never had a beer in my life.

  “Two lagers.” Amy held up two fingers.

  “Comin’ right up.” Sean pulled out chilled glasses from below. A moment later, the drinks sat in front of us. “You girls want to start a tab?”

  Amy nodded. “Definitely.”

  Sean wiped down our part of the bar, set out coasters, and retreated to the far end.

  Amy picked up her drink. “Bottoms up.” A forced smile spread across her face before she took a long, deep swallow. I’d barely lifted my beer to my lips before she took another drink. After her third gulp, she set her glass down. “That’s a little better.”

  I tentatively tasted the beer. Cool, frothy liquid flowed into my mouth. Surprisingly, it tasted good. I took another drink, a longer one this time, swallowing it in a large gulp. The beverage hit my empty stomach like a water balloon splattering on the sidewalk. I wasn’t sure if that was a good thing or not.

  We sat in silence. Each of us seemed lost in our own thoughts. I was about to take another drink when Amy blurted, “Meghan, I’m sorry.”

  I set my drink down. “For what?”

  Amy glanced at Sean. He remained at the end of the bar, but she lowered her voice anyway. “For today. Everything about today. It was awful what we saw this morning. And I promised that you’d see what it’s normally like. You must think we’re monsters.” The quiet anguish in her voice was genuine.

  A spark of hope shot through me. “So that wasn’t normal?”

  “No. I’ve never seen Dr. Roberts do anything like that. I mean, I knew about the Chair. He had them installed a few months ago, but before that, we never treated the Kazzies that badly. It’s always been humane, mostly at least, up until now. Really, I swear.”

  “So the Chair,” I could barely make myself utter the word, “that’s not something that was used all of these years?”

  She shook her head. “I’ve only seen it once before today, but Davin was never electrically shocked, or forced to get into it like that. The one other time I saw it used, he was tranquilized beforehand. He didn’t know he was in it.”

  I grimaced. That didn’t seem much better. Since when is it okay to drug someone and do whatever you want with him? Outside of the Compound, that would be illegal. “And that’s okay with you?”

  She looked down and fiddled with her fingers. “I know how it looks, the things we do, but remember what I said before. We’ve all had to accept a few things. It’s the only way we might find a vaccine.”

  I paused, contemplating that. Amy didn’t strike me as a sadist. Neither did Mitch nor Charlie. But nobody in the Stanford prison experiment thought they would abuse others either. People could do things they never imagined if they were put in the right circumstances. We all had a Mr. Hyde lurking in us somewhere, or so psychology had us believe. I wondered if I would become like the others if I stayed at the Compound. Passively watching the going-ons, not speaking up, even though it was wrong.

  My stomach dropped. Passively watching and not speaking up is exactly what I’d done this morning. I stood by while Dr. Roberts took Davin’s samples. Other than my initial question of doing it some other way, I’d kept my mouth shut, just like the others.

  That realization made my stomach heave.

  I’m no different than anyone else. My hand shook when I brought my beer to my lips. “But what happened today is not okay. No vaccine or cure is worth that.”

  Amy frowned and shrugged. “You might be right, but then I think about the millions of lives we could potentially save. Sometimes, I don’t know anymore.”

  We were both quiet again, our beers slowly disappearing. A splinter stuck up in the bar. I picked at it, and finally asked something I’d been wondering all day. “Do you know why Dr. Roberts would torture Davin like that today, after all of the problems we’ve had with him lately? Wouldn’t forcing him into the Chair and not giving him sedation only throw him into another rage?”

  Amy shook her head. “Davin’s usually pretty controlled. Dr. Roberts has done some awful things to him, but usually, Davin takes it. His rage last week was the first time I’ve seen him like that.”

  I picked at the splinter again as Davin’s restrained form flashed through my mind. Drip-drip. I clenched my jaw. “All I wanted to do this morning was leave. I hated watching that.”

  “Yeah, we’ve all fe
lt that way at times over the years. What we did to Davin this morning wasn’t easy for me either.”

  I took another drink, thinking of the last six years. All of the hours and hours, countless hours, I’d spent studying and researching. I’d done it all for one reason: to join the MRI and stop the virus.

  Something inside of me shattered.

  I gasped it hit me so hard. It felt like my heart was dropped into liquid nitrogen and then thrown against a brick wall, breaking into a million, tiny shards. What am I supposed to do with my life now?

  I gulped down another mouthful of beer and picked more fiercely at the splinter. Without my job, what can I possibly do to help society? To stop the virus? I muffled a hysterical laugh. In one morning, my life goal had been destroyed.

  Even so, I couldn’t return to the Compound. I wanted to think I wouldn’t become like Amy, Mitch, and Charlie, grudgingly accepting the atrocities the Compound committed. That next time I’d stand up to Dr. Roberts, stop him, or at the very least make an attempt to. But considering how I’d acted this morning, I wasn’t so sure I’d do that.

  And I couldn’t live with myself if I didn’t.

  My shoulders drooped, as the enormity of my decision sank in. Leaving truly was my only option. I cleared my throat and took a deep, shaky breath. “Amy, I have to tell you something. I’m not going back to the Compound. I can’t. I’m going to quit.”

  Her eyes widened.

  “I can’t be a part of the things Dr. Roberts does to the Kazzies.”

  Amy just stared at me. She eventually nodded, but the surprise was still evident on her face. “Okay, I get it. I can only imagine what you think of us, but if it were up to me, treating Davin like that would never happen again.”

  “I know.” I took another drink. My lager was already over half gone. “What about you? Are you going back?”

  She hesitated a moment. “Yes. I have to. If we all left the Compounds, we’d potentially be dooming the human race to extinction.”

  “Even after what we did this morning? You still want to return?”

  She was quiet again. Eventually, she nodded. “Yes, even after what we did. You’ve got to remember the good days in our job. They still outweigh the bad.”

  I frowned and gulped down another mouthful of beer. Can I do that? Focus on the good and ignore the bad? Turn the other cheek, so to speak?

  No, I couldn’t.

  But then an idea came to me, and a spark of hope, so strong it took my breath away, coursed through me. “Why has nobody said anything to Dr. Roberts’ boss? Somebody must oversee him, right? Couldn’t his boss stop what he’s doing?”

  “Dr. Roberts’ boss got promoted to a Director position at another Compound three months ago, which is why Dr. Roberts was promoted to head of all research at our Compound. At the moment, his only boss is the Compound Director, Dr. Sadowsky. He’s the head honcho. But I don’t know if Dr. Sadowsky even knows what goes on in the Sanctum. There’s a lot of other stuff he deals with.”

  I sat up straighter, my words rushed. “Did anybody try reporting what was happening to Dr. Roberts’ boss before he left?”

  Amy nodded, averting her eyes. “A few people did, but they got demoted or moved to other positions in the Compound.”

  My mouth dropped as my shoulders slumped. I picked angrily at the splinter again. “In other words, they were fired for speaking up.”

  “Something like that.”

  “But Dr. Sadowsky might not know? You said nobody’s ever gone to him?”

  “Not that I know of.”

  “So we could talk to him? Maybe he would stop what’s being done?”

  Amy frowned, an uneasy expression flitting across her features. “You could try, I suppose.”

  Her hesitation was as palpable as the splinter between my fingers, which made me wonder how bad the consequences were for the others who had spoken up. If Amy was hesitant, the problems at the Compound ran deeper than I’d initially thought. I picked the splinter aggressively, my mind going one hundred miles an hour.

  Maybe quitting wasn’t the answer. Maybe the best thing I could do was try to have Dr. Roberts demoted, even fired. Perhaps then the Kazzies would be treated humanely. And if I get fired in the process, so what, right? That wouldn’t be any worse than quitting. Regardless, I’d still be out of a job, but at least then, I’d have tried.

  “Maybe I won’t quit,” I murmured, more to myself than to her.

  Amy nodded emphatically. “Exactly, don’t quit. Think of all the good that could come from what we do. Think of what we could contribute, especially you, Meghan. You’re so young and have so many years ahead of you. What if you found the vaccine?”

  I took another drink as a second thought struck me. If I find a vaccine, the Kazzies won’t be locked up anymore. A vaccine would stop Dr. Roberts for sure. That was another route I needed to contemplate. Since I didn’t know Dr. Sadowsky, I didn’t know how he’d react if I went to him with my concerns, but a vaccine was virtually a guarantee that the abuse would stop.

  “You girls want another round?” Sean called.

  I looked up sharply and immediately regretted it. The room spun. I was once again surprised at how much I’d drunk. My glass was empty.

  “Yeah, bring us two more,” Amy replied.

  Sean refilled our drinks before returning to the end of the bar. He seemed to sense Amy and I wanted privacy.

  I took another sip as my mind shifted to Davin, imagining him in the Chair. Drip-drip. Anger rekindled in my core, but with it, came a new sense of purpose.

  Since Davin was a Kazzie, our research apparently had no limits. His ‘Kazzie’ label seemed to be all he was, but that could change. I could help make that happen. In a way, it was sadly ironic. In all the reading I’d done on Davin and his strain, there had been no information on him before he became infected. It was like his life hadn’t started until he came to the Compound.

  “How did Davin contract the virus?”

  Amy looked up from her beer. Her second was already half gone. “Do you remember when Makanza hit South Dakota?”

  “Yes.” I remembered all right. Although it was something I did my best to forget.

  “Do you remember where it hit first?”

  “The reservations.”

  She nodded. “There’s a reason he’s so tan you know, even though he never gets outside.”

  My eyes widened as a memory came crashing back.

  I WAS SITTING on the couch at my parents’ house in Vermillion. I’d been seventeen at the time and was home alone. Jeremy was at a friend’s house, my parents, at work. The TV blared, a rerun playing in the background as I studied calculus in the living room.

  The Makanza alarm sounded outside. My hand stilled, my pencil hanging midair. I’d never forgotten that sound. When I’d been young, those sirens meant a tornado was close, but now, it meant something else.

  It sounded shrilly, all around, as if I was in a sphere, the sound everywhere.

  My eyes snapped first to the outside and then the TV. The rerun vanished, and our local news anchorwoman appeared. Her voice trembled as she sat at her desk and discussed how an outbreak had possibly erupted on the Cheyenne River Reservation.

  I sat motionless, my heart pounding.

  Makanza was supposed to have been wiped clean from the public, but her words spoke otherwise. Three Native Americans had reported to the local IHS hospital with symptoms.

  My stomach sank. If they were having symptoms, that meant they’d been contagious for over two weeks. Who knew who else had been exposed.

  I glanced out the window to the quiet street, anxiously watching for Jeremy and my parents to come home. If the alarm sounded, that meant everyone in the city had sixty minutes to return to their houses. After that, martial law would be in effect. We’d once again be prisoners in our home as we monitored ourselves for symptoms, isolating ourselves from our neighbors. The next four weeks would be crucial.

  If we were still healthy in
a month, we’d stay alive.

  I CLOSED MY eyes. That’s how it had all begun. The Second Wave. On the Cheyenne River Reservation.

  “Are you okay?” Amy asked quietly.

  “Um, yeah.” I brought my beer shakily to my lips and took another drink.

  “So you remember when they reported on Davin?”

  “Yes.” It had been weeks later, after Makanza truly reared its ugly head. Davin was the only Kazzie in Compound 26 who came from South Dakota, the only infected South Dakotan to survive the virus wildfire, which swept through the reservations first, wiping out an entire race of people, before sweeping throughout the state and region.

  The Sioux Indians had been annihilated by the virus. All except one. I vaguely recalled a haggard, young man dragged out of Mobridge by MRRA workers. Even then, he’d fought. I shook my head.

  Until now, I’d completely forgotten about him. Davin must have only been eighteen when he’d been admitted to the Compound. He was only twenty-four now.

  I hastily took another drink and realized how alone Davin must feel. I’d always been an outsider, different from everyone else, but I still had family. Davin didn’t. He had no one, and he was now doomed to a life of torture and isolation… simply because he’d survived.

  “I can’t believe I didn’t realize that sooner,” I said shakily.

  Amy shrugged. “Yeah, I just assumed you knew who Davin was. It was all over the news back then.”

  I picked again at the scratch in the bar, remembering the details the news reported. Davin was only half Sioux. His father was Native American, but his mother was Caucasian. He’d been visiting the reservation, seeing family, when the outbreak occurred.

  More details returned to me. He hadn’t lived on Cheyenne River. Rapid City was his home. He had two brothers and two sisters. All of them had been together on the reservation when the outbreak happened.

  I shook my head at the irony. If Davin hadn’t been visiting the reservation at that time, if he’d chosen to postpone his trip until the following month, would he have contracted the virus?