Martha’s face flushed with heat. “He’s experimenting on the girls? He’s supposed to be treating them!”
Lieutenant Colonel Alexander Fraser was a large man. He towered over Martha, but when she stood up and started toward him, he took a step back. He held both his hands up. “Dr. Chan, this is an epidemic. We need to fully understand exactly what—”
She glared up at him. “Take me to them now!”
Chapter Sixty-Two
Tennant
“Sophie!”
Tennant screamed out her sister’s name for the dozenth time, unsure if she could even hear her. They pulled Sophie from her arms back near the fence and took her away in one Jeep while soldiers held Tennant back and drove her off in another one. Instead of returning to the room that looked like a doctor’s office, they’d brought Tennant to someplace that looked like a jail cell. There was a small cot in the corner bolted to the floor and wall, a stainless-steel sink, and a toilet with no lid. Dim light streamed in from a small window up in the corner—a window that was far too narrow for her to slip through. Not that she could even if she did fit—a steel mesh was embedded in the glass, and there were bars on the outside. The walls were cinder block, painted white, and the door was heavy steel.
There was a camera, but unlike the other room, this one was built into a box in the wall and covered in thick plastic or glass. Tennant glared up at it. “Where is my sister? What did you do to her?!”
She knew someone was watching, probably that doctor, but she hadn’t seen him since they took Sophie away. They had implanted something in her neck, too. Under the skin. About the size of a grain of rice. The surrounding skin felt hot to her touch, inflamed, angry.
“Tennant, can you hear me?”
This was the doctor’s voice. It came from a speaker in the wall near the camera.
“Where is Sophie?”
“Your sister is fine. She’s doing wonderful. You’ll be permitted to see her soon, but first there are a few things we need to check. If you cooperate, this will go much easier, much faster, and I think we’d all prefer that. Of course, if you feel the need to fight us, you may. I suppose I understand why you would want to, but that will really just make things worse…for the both of you.”
“I want to see my sister!”
“Here we go,” he said.
Then the noise came.
Although it came from the same speaker up in the wall, for Tennant, the noise only seemed to start there. Like water from a faucet, the noise poured out of the metal grille, splashed off the walls, ceiling, and floor, and quickly surrounded her. Tennant found herself backing up, but there was no place to go. When she reached the wall, she turned around and pressed her forehead against the cinder block, pressed her palms tight against her ears. The noise only grew louder, seeped around her fingers, inched down into her ears and scratched at her brain.
Through the increasing volume, she heard the doctor’s voice. “Can you describe what you’re feeling?”
“Sophie!”
“If you cooperate, and tell me what you’re feeling, I’ll let you see your sister. I promise.”
His voice was so calm and quiet. She wanted to hit him. She wanted to beat him to a bloody pulp.
The sound grew louder.
The doctor said, “Your pulse rate is elevated, but not beyond what I would expect under the circumstances. With your sister, we noticed substantial changes in neural oscillations. Are you familiar with brainwaves? There are four different kinds—high amplitude, low-frequency delta, low amplitude, and high-frequency beta. With your sister, we found increases in all four, similar to receiving an electric shock. Is that what this feels like to you? Like getting an electric shock? Are you able to concentrate? Can you focus on the sound of my voice and respond, or is exposure making that an impossibility?”
When she didn’t answer, he said calmly, “I’m going to increase the volume again. Stand by.”
Tennant sucked in a breath.
The pressure around her head increased, like someone had a leather strap around her skull and was slowly tightening the band. She dropped to the ground and pressed her body into the corner on her knees. Her eyes were squeezed tightly shut. Tennant was afraid if she opened them they’d pop. “Please stop!”
“Soon. You’re doing wonderfully.”
“I can’t…”
“Can’t what? Are you able to respond to my voice?”
“Yeees…please stop.”
“That’s excellent. Thank you.”
The noise stopped.
When Tennant finally opened her eyes, she found herself lying on the ground, on her side. She didn’t remember how she got there. Her nose was bleeding. Her ears, too. The blood wasn’t fresh, though. It was tacky, partially dry.
“You passed out. Twelve minutes ago,” the doctor said.
The lights of the room seemed horribly bright.
Tennant forced herself to sit up. All her muscles ached as if she’d spent the last day working in the gardens or hauling water.
The doctor said, “If I were to open your door, let you out, what would you like to do first?”
Tennant glared up at the camera, at the speaker. “Please let me see my sister. You promised…”
The red dot blinked.
“Soon.”
Chapter Sixty-Three
Martha
Dr. Fitch looked up as Martha stormed into the room with Fraser close behind. “Ah, Dr. Chan. I think you’ll find this very—”
She tried to lunge at him, but Fraser held her back. He’d been expecting it and grabbed her around the waist.
“You said you’d remain calm,” Fraser said from behind, twisting around and pressing her tight against a wall.
Her feet were barely touching the ground. “This is me being calm!”
Martha quickly took everything in—Dr. Fitch was standing at a long desk with two other people, both dressed in scrubs. Nearly a dozen large monitors glowed around them displaying vital signs, the words SUBJECT 1 and SUBJECT 2 in bold white letters at the top. Two other monitors had a video feed—Tennant in one room, Sophie in another. Tennant was huddled down on the ground.
“What the hell are you doing?” Martha growled.
Dr. Fitch’s eyes went nervously from her to Fraser, then back again. “Dr. Chan, you must understand our current circumstances are extraordinarily unique and call for unprecedented measures. We have less than four hours to determine a means of stopping the advance of this infection, and these two subjects may be our only chance at insight or clarity into how the infection spreads.” He paused for a second, considering his words. “I know this isn’t an infection in the traditional sense, but that’s the simplest way for me to describe what’s happening to those I report to, so I’ve taken to calling it that. As a medical doctor, I’m sure you—”
Martha spit at him.
She’d never in her life spit on anyone and could think of no one more deserving than this squirmy little man.
Unfortunately, she missed.
Dr. Fitch took a step back anyway. “I could use another pair of skilled hands, but if you’re going to let emotions blind you, you’re useless to me. We don’t have time for it.”
From behind her, Fraser whispered, “He’s got the president’s ear, and I’m under orders to follow his instructions. If you want to help the girls, you need to control yourself.”
Martha fought the urge to kick Fraser, break away, and take another rush at Fitch, but she knew he was right. They’d haul her out of here, and she’d never see these two girls again. Finally, she relented and nodded softly. “Okay. I promise.”
Fraser released her slowly. Martha stepped away from him and slowly circled the room, studying the monitors. On one, Tennant huddled on the floor in the corner of a room, nothing more than a cell, her face buried in her hands. On the other, Sophie was standing at the center of a similar room, slowly rocking back and forth, shifting her weight from one foot to the other and back again
. Other monitors displayed their vitals. Although elevated, Tennant’s appeared normal. Sophie’s hadn’t changed much since she’d last checked—blood pressure well beyond normal and a body temperature of 100.2. She was breathing in long, thick gasps, but they didn’t seem as erratic as earlier, as urgent. “What are her current medications?”
Dr. Fitch remained at a distance, eyeing her warily. “Nothing. I felt it was important to observe her without any external interference.”
“You mean you felt it was more important to let this…infection…run its course rather than attempt to save this girl’s life,” Martha stated.
“While the medications you administered may have appeared to hold the infection at bay, I think they may have been doing more harm than good. With each dose, I noticed a marked increase in her body’s reaction, as if the infection stepped up to combat the medications. Her liver, kidneys, all vital organs were being taxed beyond their capabilities, to near failure. When I discontinued, she leveled off…somewhat. Although the infection itself is also very damaging.”
“She’s still running a fever, and BP is high.”
“Leveled off somewhat,” he repeated. “She’s still far from normal, but I don’t believe her life is in danger anymore. At least, not at the moment.”
On the monitor, Sophie continued to rock back and forth.
“How are you tracking their vitals?”
“Implants.” He pointed at the back of his neck. “Right here. Painless, I assure you.”
A phone on the wall rang. One of the men in scrubs answered, listened for a moment, then handed the receiver to Fraser. He spoke softly, then hung up. To Martha, he said, “I need to get back to the president. Can I trust you here?”
She nodded.
His eyes lingered reluctantly on her for a moment longer. Then he left the room, pulling the heavy door shut behind him.
When he was gone, Dr. Fitch continued, “I asked for an fMRI machine less than an hour ago. It’s a Corean Level 4—last I heard, those were still in the testing phase and the only working model was in Israel, yet, they found one and it’s already on base.”
She’d only read about functional MRI, or fMRI, a machine that measures brain activity by detecting changes associated with blood flow and metabolic function. It would allow them to monitor the effects of the noise on brain chemistry itself, even beyond the three-dimensional picture they would see with traditional MRI or a CAT scan.
He crossed the room and tapped several keys on one of the keyboards. “You need to watch this.”
Martha stepped over to the monitor. An image of Tennant filled the screen. The time stamp read about fifteen minutes earlier.
Fitch asked, “Are you familiar with antiphase technology?”
Martha shook her head.
“It’s the core principle behind noise-canceling headphones. You take a sound, any sound, and invert the phase, basically create an opposite or a negative version of the sound, then play it back at the same amplitude as the original. The two cancel each other out so neither can be heard. What you’re about to see is a recording of us playing the noise you recovered in Barton. We’ve implemented antiphase technology, so the subject can hear it, but we can’t. This allows us to hear what’s happening in the room without the negative impact of the anomaly’s noise present.”
“Her name is Tennant, not the subject.”
“Tennant, right.”
He pressed Play, and the video ticked forward. About ten seconds in, a message flashed across the bottom of the screen—ANOMALY RECORDING INITIATED.
Martha watched in horror as the girl screamed for her sister, tried to shield herself from the sound, and collapsed in the corner of the room, blood trickling out from her eyes, nose, and ears. The poor girl must have been in horrible pain. Martha wanted to tell him to turn it off, to stop, but that would do no good—what she was watching had already taken place.
Fitch said, “Exposure to the noise ultimately rendered her unconscious for twelve minutes. I’m going to fast-forward.”
The time stamp sped up, and when Tennant stirred, Fitch pressed Play again and returned to normal speed. Martha heard Dr. Fitch ask her what she would do if he opened the door; Tennant only pleaded to see her sister.
“How is that helpful?” Martha asked. “You’re torturing her. You realize that, right?”
Fitch didn’t respond. Instead, he loaded up a second video, this one of Tennant’s sister. “Watch how this sub…Sophie…reacts to the same exposure.”
As she had been in the live feed, Sophie stood in the center of the room, slowly rocking. She didn’t appear to be looking at anything in particular. Although her eyes shifted back and forth, Martha got the impression the girl’s thoughts weren’t focused on the room itself but elsewhere. As if caught up in a daydream or unaware of her surroundings. Her mind in some far-off place. Sophie’s lips were moving, but Martha couldn’t make out what she was saying. “Can you turn it up?”
Fitch reached for the volume and increased it to the maximum.
Martha still couldn’t make out her mumblings.
The anomaly recording message flashed.
“The noise playback starts here,” Fitch said.
Sophie’s head jerked up, twisted from side to side. Then she smiled, this sly, peculiar grin.
Martha shivered as a coldness crept up her spine.
“Annna Shiiimmmm,” Sophie said softly, her head nodding. “My Annnnnaaaa Shimmm.”
Her feet and legs began to move faster. She ran to one corner of the room, then to the other, back again. She started to circle the room with ungodly speed. Her vitals were superimposed over the corner of the screen, and Martha watched the girl’s heart rate increase to dangerous levels; BP, too. The girl somehow ran faster. She ran directly into one of the walls, then without hesitation, she turned and ran back in the opposite direction, crashed into the other wall.
Martha’s hands covered her mouth. “Oh, my god.”
Fitch paused the video. “There’s no need to watch more. She stopped the moment the anomaly recording did.” He rewound the video to the beginning and pressed Play again.
Sophie mumbling.
“Best we can tell, she’s rattling off names in quick succession,” he explained. He stopped the video and returned to the live feed. “Still is. We think they’re names of the infected, but we have no idea how she would know them—at least five match residents of Barton.” He removed his glasses and wiped the lenses with his tie, then put them back on. “It’s too early to be sure, but I believe the older one may be building up some kind of tolerance with each exposure. Similar to receiving a flu shot—her body is adapting, learning to fight back. While the sound itself is still highly unsettling and painful to her, her physiological responses appear to be lessening. Her sister has obviously adapted as well, but in a very different manner. Frankly, I find her reactions…disturbing.” He added, “I think all of this may be related to their initial exposure. Something about their initial exposure was different from all those who simply joined the horde.”
Martha couldn’t watch the videos again. All she could think about was her own children back home, the growing horde. Finally, she said, “I need to see them.”
Chapter Sixty-Four
Martha
Martha told Dr. Fitch to wait in the other room. She didn’t want either girl to see him right now.
When the door swung open, Tennant shrunk deeper into the corner, away from the opening, her eyes frantically glancing around. Martha got the unsettling feeling she was looking for some kind of weapon.
Martha held her hands up and slowly stepped inside. “I’m so sorry, Tennant. I had no idea he would do that to you. I never would have left you and your sister alone with him if I had.”
Tennant’s eyes narrowed, and she glared at her as she scurried deeper into the corner. “They shot Sophie! You said we’d be safe!”
“From what I was told, Sophie attempted to escape, and they sedated her,” Ma
rtha said softly. “Had she reached that outer fence and somehow got through it, or over it, she’d be gone right now. Maybe forever. I’m sure it was difficult for you to witness that, but they saved your sister. She’s not well. You don’t want to lose her, do you?”
“I want to go home,” Tennant fired back. “I want to take Sophie and go back home to Momma and Poppa, to the mountain. They won’t know how to find us. They don’t know where we are. We were safe at the mountain!”
“Your sister was dying, Tennant. I know it may not seem like it, but those soldiers saved your lives. The treatment your sister received, that saved her life. Whatever happened back at the mountain to your village, it happened again, multiple times. If you were still there, you would have gotten caught up in it. You’d be gone now, both of you. You’re safe here, with us. With me.”
“How do you know it won’t find us here?”
Martha didn’t know and she didn’t want to lie to this girl. “I don’t.”
“Then let us go home.”
Martha eased down onto the floor and sat beside her. “Can I show you something?”
Tennant nodded.
One of the orderlies handed Martha a laptop. She lifted the screen and angled it toward Tennant. “I’m not supposed to show you this, but I’m going to anyway. I don’t care what they do to me. I want you to understand what we’re dealing with. I think you’re old enough to understand. What’s happening right now is bigger than just you and your sister, bigger than all of us. You may find it difficult to watch, so if you need me to turn it off, just tell me, okay?”
Tennant nodded.
Martha spent the next ten minutes showing her all the video footage they had accumulated, including the one from Barton. With that one, she left the sound on and made careful note of Tennant’s reaction. Fitch had been right; the noise didn’t seem to bother Tennant as much as it affected both her and the orderly standing in the room.
When the final video ended, she let the silence hang in the room for a moment before speaking again. “We don’t fully understand why, but you and your sister weren’t affected by the anomaly the same as all these other people. Both of you seem to be building up a tolerance, although in very different ways, and understanding that tolerance could provide someone like me with the information I need in order to help all the other people who have been affected.”
The Noise Page 20
