Dead Market

by Gary Starta

  Eichelbaum fought an urge to smile. The president of a major pharmaceutical lighting up a cigar on the surface seemed ironic, hypocritical. The masses believed Gaines was in the business of keeping people healthy. Yet this was a ruse. Men like Gaines were in the business of making people believe they were sick and in need of his treatments. Eichelbaum realized Gaines cared less if victims of L2 consequently lost all control and ate their family members. He wasn’t worried about victims becoming violent. He was concerned about losing his newly created dead market. If the pills were eventually deemed ineffective; Pharmacure might lose its exclusive grip on the L2 outbreak. But that was more Grayson Medical’s problem. The pressure to improve the drug would lie squarely on their shoulders. What Eichelbaum and Gaines had to be concerned about was image.

  “Have you given any more thought to the campaign, Frederick? We’ll need to coordinate the release of advertisements with the outbreak. I should think magazines and billboards should depict a victim. Someone who will evoke sympathy…”

  “Yes,” Gaines interrupted. He tapped ashes into a tray. “But that someone needs to look like the average American. Not a thin, pretty model. We need someone who carries a few extra pounds, maybe someone a little homely even – someone who resembles the average Joe.”

  “I’ll advise our branding agency of your concerns tomorrow; I’ve scheduled a meeting.”

  “So, you really think we should unleash the disease as soon as possible. It’s going to look suspicious. People are going to question how we came up with a treatment so soon.”

  “More people will be ecstatic – especially the victim’s families – that we responded so promptly. It’s going to make Pharmacure Pharmaceuticals appear innovative, time responsive and sympathetic to its customers. And one more thing to consider, if this Medical Examiner Gonzalez can be believed, there already may be reanimates out there. That’s another reason to move quickly. Brinkhaus or someone else may be out there right now trying to screw with our plan – our profits. As your chief executive officer, I won’t let that happen.”

  Gaines grinned, cigar dangling from his lips.

  “I say we give Brinkhaus just one more week to surface with a revision, Frederick. Then, deadlines up – L2 becomes a reality – Luxate hits the shelves.”

  “And what about Brinkhaus…? If he indeed surfaces…”

  “We take what we need from Brinkhaus and then have our secret service friend eliminate him.” Eichelbaum broke into a wide grin. “Serve him right for concocting such a nasty disease.”

  Chapter 27

  Finch’s head nearly hit the kitchen countertop he was leaning over. Arms were wrapped about him in an instant. He muttered in response. “Lorelei…?”

  Burnham wore a curious smile as he patted his friend on the back. “Almost hurt yourself nodding off, Finch. Why don’t you get some shuteye? I’ll watch Sanchez. And by the way, Lorelei is out. She’s taking a walk.”

  “Oh. Yeah. My noodle’s a bit fried from dealing with our new guest.”

  Burnham folded his arms and shrugged his shoulders. “It’s not like you haven’t dealt before.”

  “I know I’ve been through this with you and Lorelei but you two weren’t ranting psychotic – at least not in your sleep. This bloke keeps pleading for a voice to stop.” Burnham leaned in closer to Finch as if he wanted to share a secret.

  “He opened up a little after his last feeding.”

  “How’s that, mate? You two chatted?”

  “He needed to confide in someone. Despite his profession, Sanchez appears to be a religious man – a Catholic. He can’t stand the idea of craving flesh and blood. For him, he believes eating another person is equivalent to eating Christ.”

  “You mean like the holy wafers, the things you eat after confession?”

  “Yes, sacramental bread. It symbolizes the embodiment of Jesus. And I definitely can relate to symbolism. This hunger – it is wrong on many levels. It seems a devil designed it.”

  “I think you’re getting fanatical, Burnsy. Maybe this bloke is only going to haunt you, not help you.”

  “So you think I’m better with someone like Lorelei around – someone who will bash me for my beliefs?”

  “All I’m saying is that you need moderation. I’m religious to a point but I don’t see the symbolism you do. I think your hunger is just an engineering flaw made by whoever created the disease. I don’t think it’s intentional. Why would the designer give the affected super abilities only to have it jeopardized by cannibalistic behavior?”

  “Well,” Burnham scratched beard stubble, “maybe this voice he’s hearing is a gift, a new ability.”

  “I don’t know. I don’t care. I think we should press him to find this James bloke ASAP. Then we devise a way to safely extricate him from my guest room.”

  “I know. I’m not keen on having him around, fueling Lorelei’s bloodlust. But you have to tread carefully in negotiation.”

  “So, your little chat with Sanchez was about diplomacy?”

  “It’s always advantageous to know your enemy. Plus, I learned another thing.” He bent towards Finch and whispered, “He’s scared shit of Lorelei. Wanted me to promise I’ll keep her out of his room.”

  “But what you found out only bonded you two. I can see you are tethered by your religious beliefs. Even after you two nearly – for the lack of a better word – killed each other.”

  “God…no… We’re not the same at all. He lived in denial. He fooled himself God would forgive him for his lifestyle because he believed it was only a means to his survival. He wouldn’t admit dealing drugs kills people. He lived in a bubble, believing God would forgive these lesser sins on his judgment day. But what’s got him over the edge now is the idea of eating flesh and blood. He knows this sin can’t be absolved. And yes, I do feel that the very fact we are reanimates is unforgiveable. It’s why he can’t live with himself.”

  “But you’re living with yourself and doing a pretty damn good job at it too.”

  “For now – I am. I’m focusing on what needs to be done to stop the disease. But…after that…when I achieve that goal… Then, I don’t know how I’ll be able to stand my conscience either.”

  “I’m sorry, but I’ve got to side with Lorelei on this one. Your beliefs are wacked. Sanchez thinks his God will forgive some sins and not others. Why would it be arbitrary?”

  “Finch, it probably isn’t. It’s a mobster mentality. It’s how they live with their life choices day in and day out. I don’t think their punishment would be arbitrary either.”

  “Ah, so deep down you feel you’ve already been judged. You feel you’re going to pay for becoming a reanimate no matter how many good deeds you do. That’s not religious belief – that’s a self-inflicted guilt trip. You didn’t mean to become affected. I won’t believe – not for a bleeding instant – that if there is a heaven that I won’t see you in it. We stand side by side, brother; no matter our destination.”

  “Jeez, you do need a nap.”

  “Okay. I guess I can sack out on the couch for a while. But if you glean anymore information from our guest, be sure to wake me.

  Hours passed slowly for Burnham. Grumbles and groans emanated from the guest room as Sanchez drifted in and out dream. Heavy breathing accompanied Finch’s sleep. Apparently, the weight of the world would not allow his childhood friend to completely escape reality either. Existence in this form without distraction was nearly unbearable. He did not click on the TV for fear of waking either man.

  Without focus, Burnham’s thoughts drifted towards Lorelei. Their relationship was complex, no doubt about it. They were on the same side but not always on the same page.

  Sure, the violent animal form within him fantasized about taking out Amado James. He had infected Lorelei. In turn, her infection led to his. And without doubt, James did destroy Lorelei’s life – forcing her to
turn from her child.

  As a cop, he was compelled to question her story however. No matter how many times he attempted to understand her sacrifice for her child, he could not conceive how any mother could leave their daughter’s side. Was this concern, the root of his doubt for mistrusting her? Finch had warned him about possible ulterior motives. He only could conclude she existed to fulfill her vendetta, to stamp out Amado James. In a way, like Sanchez, she had no will to continue her new existence. And if not for Finch’s support, Burnham wondered if he would have already found a way to exit stage left. Some team we make. We all want to die – again. Burnham believed if he were having this conversation with Finch, his friend would label that behavior as terroristic. If so, who was the real enemy here?

  What if the man who engineered this disease had indeed made a mistake? Did he really intend to recreate humanity with new abilities, to improve humankind’s existence? Was the hunger only an unexpected side effect? But even so, Burnham concluded the man’s intention to willfully infect others without their consent was unconscionable. He had to be stopped. But first, he must convince a crime lord to give him pills in exchange for Sanchez. And in the pit of his stomach, maybe part of intuition, maybe part desperation, Derek Burnham believed this task would somehow lead him to the man behind the disease.

  The jingling of keys signaled Lorelei’s return. Burnham noted how her presence affected Finch. His friend groaned and changed his sleeping position on the couch upon her arrival.

  He found himself lost in Lorelei’s eyes for a long moment. She nearly smiled at him. If things were different; if he had met her before the reanimation they might be lovers. The realization of this fantasy stirred butterflies in his stomach as he stared into her blue eyes.

  But in a few seconds, their gaze was interrupted. Sanchez’s moaning compelled him to respond. Lorelei tagged after him. Finch could be heard muttering from the couch.

  Burnham stood in the threshold of the bedroom, his hands latched onto the door jambs. He analyzed the situation. Sanchez was not attempting escape, but was fraught with distress.

  “Lorelei, you can’t come in here. You know this.”

  She muttered something profane from behind him while Finch appeared behind her. A bear hug eased Lorelei back toward the hallway. Burnham realized she was voluntarily acknowledging his request. There was little chance Finch’s bear hug would have deterred her otherwise. He gleaned all this without looking behind him once. At this moment, he was 100 percent cop – zombie free.

  Burnham shut the door with a soft clack. He tips toed with a light foot towards the bed, arms spread. He did not want to pose a visual threat to the hostage. It’s negotiation time, again…

  Sanchez hid his face the best he could in his palms. He could not entirely wrap his hands about his face due to the chains.

  “I’ve got something to tell you. It’s…going to sound fucking unbelievable. But no matter, I need you to listen.”

  Burnham seated himself in a chair and nodded for Sanchez to continue.

  “I think I am in contact with a man responsible for our change. But he’s not the main man. He appears…oh shit!

  Burnham slipped into a non-threatening even tone. “You can do this. Tell me what he’s saying.”

  Sanchez shook his head. “So, you believe me?” His eyes were spider webbed in blood. They appeared confessional, not deceitful.

  The desperation in Burnham compelled him to believe in any event. He wondered if his earlier hunch had been right. It would make sense that Sanchez might become gifted. Only instead of superior hearing, Sanchez was possibly becoming telepathic.

  “The man,” Sanchez continued, is disgruntled. Ah…yes… I not only hear it, I FEEL it.”

  Burnham felt a rise of excitement in his voice. “Yes, but what is he disgruntled about? Can you ask him?”

  “He was supposed to be an assistant, maybe one day be an equal to his mentor – the man who engineered our disease. He is overwhelmed by despair. He is also angry at himself for being fooled. These emotions…it’s hard to hear all his thoughts. They are like a tidal wave at times. They wash…over…me… Ahhh!”

  Sanchez’s scream invited a knock at the door. “Go away,” Burnham reprimanded. “It’s okay.”

  Sanchez wallowed in pain for a moment.

  “I know you’re confused. But you’re doing very well. Now just try to maintain contact.”

  Sanchez raised a shackled hand at him. “Quiet. He sounds like he’s afraid of being monitored. Maybe by the man, maybe by you…”

  Burnham covered his mouth with his hand. He nodded for Sanchez to resume.

  The conversation in Sanchez’s mind continued for a few more moments. When it broke, Sanchez broke into profuse sweat. His eyes lolled in their sockets.

  Burnham padded lightly out the door and was immediately greeted by Finch and Lorelei.

  “We might have a conduit to the perpetrator. It seems a man who works for him is disgruntled.”

  Finch intervened. “It makes sense. Sanchez’s mind pal is probably a reanimate, someone gifted with telepathic communication or maybe even remote viewing. And if that’s the case…”

  Burnham continued his thought. “Then we might obtain a clear picture of where our perpetrator hides out.”

  “This Intel would be invaluable to James. He would have no choice but to cooperate. Shit. I think we’ve found a surefire way to get out pills,” Finch speculated.

  “And…Lorelei interrupted, “maybe a surefire way of getting ourselves caught in a trap. Think. Can we trust this man really is in contact with our maker?”

  Burnham furrowed his brows. “I’m listening, Lorelei. But what kind of trap are you referring to? The man in here wants to end his existence. He doesn’t seem to give a damn about revenge. If he did,” he lowered his voice, “he might have already freed himself. No. I believe him.”

  “I’m going to remain cautiously skeptical,” Lorelei added in her infamous whisper scream.

  A loud scream emanated from the guest room.

  “Shit, he’s back guys.” Burnham reached for the door handle.

  Sanchez cried out as the door swung open.

  “Let her hear me. I am NOT lying.” Sanchez’s blood shot eyes pleaded with him.

  Burnham nodded for Lorelei to remain positioned just outside the door. Finch wrapped an arm around her waist.

  Sanchez turned to Lorelei and spoke.

  “If I were lying, could I tell you this: The prion functions as an evolutionary stepping stone, hiding and releasing genetic information throughout the entire genome that can contribute to new traits in a complex way…? I don’t even know what this means. But the words have been put into my head.”

  Finch said to Burnham, “I’ll tell you what it means. He’s the real deal.”

  Lorelei removed Finch’s hand from her waist. Her eyes closed to near slits. Burnham could read her challenge.

  “I think that’s enough for now. Let’s allow our guest some sleep.”

  “Finch,” Burnham said, “cook some livers.”

  “No,” Sanchez said to Burnham. “I want to rest. I need help.”

  Burnham cocked an eyebrow towards Finch.

  “I’ve got a sleep aid. I don’t know how it will react with the blue pills…”

  “That’s good, Finch. Get it.”

  “No, on second thought,” Finch added, “how about we give him some booze?”

  Lorelei and Burnham shouted in unison, “No!”

  “Alright, pills it is,” Finch said. When he was out of range of normal hearing – Burnham excluded – he said: “Seems pills are the reason we’re in this mess in the first place though.”

  Burnham ignored his friend’s jab. Lorelei retreated to the bathroom.

  “Sanchez, I’ve got to meet with your boss, James. We need to talk with him.”

/>   “I told you before, Mr. Vice Cop. I don’t care about returning to him. I’m sure the feeling is mutual.”

  “The truth is we need more pills.”

  “Shit, are you fucking serious? If I don’t curb my hunger, I’ll go…” He couldn’t finish the sentence.

  Burnham could read the anguish in his eyes. “I promise – if you’ll help me – to honor your wish.”

  Sanchez nodded. “Deal.”

  ***

  Burnham explained his plan while applying makeup seated at the kitchen table. Finch tried to pay attention, but Lorelei’s announcement competed for attention.

  She would be taking a bath instead of her usual shower. During her walk, she had visited a fragrance shop, purchasing a calming bubble bath. “This will be my first foray into aromatherapy. And Finch, you’re so not invited.” Her barb was playful and flirtatious. At least that’s the way Finch perceived it. He listened to the running water in the bath, filling the tub, fueling his fantasies.

  Burnham ignored the interruption. He applied a beige foundation to darken his skin tone. Lorelei noted it worked wonders; at least for a few hours at a time. It gave her the courage to splurge at the fragrance shop despite Burnham’s pleas to shop online.

  Burnham would be purchasing two prepaid cell phones per Sanchez’s instructions. One phone would be given to an employee at a local deli. Sanchez said the man would in turn deliver the phone to Amado James as long as he used the word “Sand Man” in his request. Sanchez explained the plan had been set into effect years ago in case of emergency. The words “Sand Man” would alert James that Sanchez was still alive and required his assistance.

  Burnham said he and Lorelei should sit tight unless his errand exceeds two hours.

  Finch didn’t put up much of a fight despite the inner voice which demanded he accompany Burnham. Thoughts of Lorelei, lathered up and surrounded by soapy bubbles competed for his interest.