by J. N. Chaney
What the hell were these guys?
There was no time to delay, though. He couldn’t keep the focus for longer than a few minutes. He’d have to hurry.
Terry leapt to his feet and took a deep breath. He placed his heel against the tree behind him. With a burst of strength, he pushed himself off the trunk and dashed as fast as his legs could carry him.
Scar looked at him, suddenly alive. He snapped to his feet, calling to the others.
With each step, Terry ran faster. He turned to see the guard readying his weapon, while the other three stirred.
A bang went off behind him. The bullet whizzed by. He dashed into the nearby woods.
Another bullet exploded from the gun, striking a nearby tree, splintering chunks of bark into the air.
Terry didn’t slow down. He ran as fast as he possibly could. He knew those men would follow immediately, and they wouldn’t stop until they had no other choice. He’d have to push himself, summon every ounce of strength he had.
It was time to put his abilities to the test.
******
The air felt cold against Mei’s scalp. It had only been a few hours since John had buzzed her hair. Did she make a mistake? Doesn’t matter, she thought as she made her way toward Bartholomew’s work tent. I made the decision, and it’s done. Time to move on.
Today, Zoe was driving to Komodo to unload a cab full of research materials. Normally this only happened once a month, but thanks to recent developments, the process had to be accelerated. They didn’t have much time to get everything out, and Mei wanted to be prepared to leave at a moment’s notice.
There was also the matter of Travis’s body, which had to be shipped all the way to Central so there could be a proper funeral. Mei didn’t like the idea of stuffing him inside a box and sending him away, but they didn’t give her much of a choice. The labs insisted on doing an autopsy. Tabata assured her it was necessary, saying they needed as much information about the radiation as possible, but none of it made her feel any better.
As she reached Bart’s tent, she could hear metal hitting metal as the engineer performed his work. Unzipping and opening the flap, she saw Bart standing there holding what appeared to be a section of a Fever Killer. The hulking object was nearly as tall as Mei, but in Bart’s arms it looked much smaller. He wheezed, hefting it onto the table and letting it slam down. “Oops,” he said, gasping. “Sorry, Doctor Curie.”
“No, no, it’s my fault,” she answered. “I should have called ahead.”
He wiped the sweat from his forehead with his shoulder. “What can I do for you?”
“Zoe’s about to take off for Komodo. Did you want her to pick up anything?”
“Some potatoes would be nice,” he said, reaching for the toolbox at the other end of the table. He grabbed a Philips and spun it around in his hand like a fan blade. “Any reason she’s got you asking me? Seems like you should be in bed.”
Mei waved her hand at him. “I volunteered. Tabata says I need to exercise.”
“As long as you don’t overdo it.”
“So potatoes?”
He nodded. “A few dozen, if she doesn’t mind.”
“Why so many?”
“I’ve had a craving for some diced potato bits, maybe grilled and seasoned. If she gets enough, I’ll fix a plate for everyone.”
Mei smiled. “Sounds pretty good. I’m not too sure if Komodo has any, but I’ll ask her to look. We might get lucky.”
“We could do with some luck if you ask me,” he said, unscrewing a piece of the Fever Killer.
“I noticed you didn’t have any shipments to send home.”
“Still in the process,” he said, pointing to the other end of the tent with his screwdriver. Several crates were resting in the corner. “Filled half of them last night. I’ll have something ready next time.”
“Not this piece?” she asked, motioning to the machine on the table.
“I’m getting ready to test something.”
“Sure.”
“This’ll be the twenty-sixth try. Can’t say I’m expecting much, though. Backward engineering is one thing, but reassembling a hundred pieces and then doing it is slightly more complicated.”
“Keep me posted,” she said, getting ready to leave. She had no qualms with listening to Bart, but standing was proving difficult the longer she stayed. “I’ll see you at the meeting in a few hours.”
He didn’t answer.
She left the tent and went to the edge of the camp near the fence. Zoe was there, hanging on the door of the dirt cab, one arm dangling through the window frame. She was talking with John.
“So you think you can get it for me?” he asked.
“Pineapple? I’ll see what I can do,” she said.
“Remember, it spoils pretty fast once it’s exposed to Variant. After that, you only get a few hours to eat it, so don’t break the seal.”
“Yeah, yeah, okay. I got it.”
Mei made her way to the dirt cab, trying her best not to look too exhausted. “Do you have everything you need, Zoe?”
“Packed and loaded, ma’am.”
Mei looked at the tail of the vehicle, at the box with Travis inside. “And the extra cargo?”
Zoe’s face sunk. “Safe,” she said after a short pause. “I’ve got him.”
“Are you sure you don’t need me to go with you?” asked John.
“I might not look like much, but I make these trips every month. I know how to take care of myself. Besides,” she said, motioning toward Mei. “Your girlfriend looks like she might pass out any second now.”
“I’m fine,” said Mei. But she wasn’t. The energy in her legs had nearly given out. Her head was growing foggy. All she wanted to do was sleep.
“Uh huh,” said Zoe, unconvinced.
“Before I forget, Bart wants potatoes,” said Mei.
“Potatoes, got it,” she said.
John walked over to Mei and wrapped one of his arms around her shoulders. “See you when you get back, Zoe.”
Zoe nodded before climbing into the cab. A second later, the engines roared to life, and she drove off, kicking a small cloud of dust into the air.
John and Mei watched her leave. When she was far enough away, Mei let herself sink into John’s arms, relinquishing support. “I need to lie down,” she finally said.
John didn’t say a word. He simply swept her up and carried her into the tent.
Lying in her bed at last, Mei held his wrist, exhausted. “Wake me in a few hours.”
“I will,” he answered, stroking her arm. He smiled warmly at her.
A fog formed in her mind, pulling her to rest. She thought of Travis, imagining him standing beside her. She wished she could talk to him. Hear his voice. If only she’d paid more attention. If only...
“Mei, what’s wrong?” asked John.
She looked at him. “Nothing…” she whispered.
John tilted his head. “Are you sure?”
It’s all my fault. I killed him, the same as…
“Mei?”
…the same as Terry, all those years ago. Couldn’t see the answers. I’m always too late to see…
“Are you okay?” He felt her forehead. “You feel warm…”
…to see the truth…but I’m a fool, a stupid little girl trying to pretend, trying to be something I’m not…
“Can you hear me, Mei?” asked John.
…and it’s my fault…it’s all my fault…everything…because of me…
“Someone help!” shouted John. “Doctor Tabata? Somebody get in here!”
…my fault…
Chapter 8
Ortego Outpost File Logs
Play Audio File 347
Recorded: April 23, 2350
PRESCOTT: I’m sorry, but what did you say your name was?
MITCHELL: Sophie Mitchell, sir. I’m Doctor Curie’s apprentice.
PRESCOTT: Why am
I talking to you instead of your mentor?
MITCHELL: It’s as I’ve said, sir. She is currently occupied.
PRESCOTT: Occupied with what, exactly? She’d better have a good excuse for missing this call.
MITCHELL: As you are aware, sir, the recent tragedy involving Travis Scott has left a gap in work performance. Doctor Curie is busy overseeing the transfer of responsibilities. She has authorized me to speak with you on her behalf.
PRESCOTT: This is absurd. Doesn’t she know how important these assessment calls are? If I deliver a poor review to the board, she could lose funding.
MITCHELL: I assure you, sir, I am fully capable of delivering the report to you. Being Doctor Curie’s apprentice requires me to understand each and every facet of the project, regardless of—
PRESCOTT: Fine, Ms. Mitchell. Go ahead and give your report. Let’s get this over with.
MITCHELL: Thank you, sir. As you know, the subsections of the former Ortego compound have been uncovered. Upon excavation, the team discovered several intact rooms filled with servers, terminals, and other resources. Dozens of disks have been collected and are awaiting analysis as we speak.
PRESCOTT: And the radiation?
MITCHELL: Still spreading, unfortunately. It seems the radius of exposure is expanding, though the rate is slow.
PRESCOTT: How long before it reaches the outpost?
MITCHELL: A little under two weeks. Doctor Curie is actively working on a solution for containment and remains hopeful—
PRESCOTT: The board wants solutions, Ms. Mitchell. I have orders directly from Doctor Tremaine stating that if your team can’t figure something out by the seventh day, you’re to be pulled and relocated. Do you understand?
MITCHELL: Yes, sir.
PRESCOTT: What about the Framling Coil? Anything to share?
MITCHELL: I’ve attached the report from our specialist, Bartholomew Higgs. He has made significant progress since the last update.
PRESCOTT: The board will decide what is significant.
MITCHELL: Yes, sir. Do you have any other questions for me today?
PRESCOTT: No. Please inform Doctor Curie I’ll be contacting her in two days for another update. In the meantime, I hope you’ll express to her the importance of these calls.
MITCHELL: Of course, Doctor. You have my word.
End Audio File
Ortego Reconstruction Outpost
April 23, 2350
John watched as Mei stared vacantly at the wall of the tent, dazed from the drugs circulating through her bloodstream. Doctor Tabata had given her some painkillers in addition to the usual radiation treatment. This made her sleep often and without provocation, allowing only a few moments of lucid consciousness. When she was awake, her words barely made sense. Half the time, all she could do was moan.
John sat beside her, tending like a nurse to her bodily needs. He didn’t mind. Besides, better him than someone else. Her team didn’t need to see her like this.
She seemed to come and go, and so did the chills, the fevers, and the sweats. She vomited often, sometimes until nothing came. Until the dry heaves made her cry.
John rubbed her back and smiled. “Easy,” he whispered.
Her face was wet and pink, and her lip trembled below her runny nose. “W-Where am I?” she asked, darting her eyes around.
“It’s okay, Mei,” he answered, trying his best to stay calm. “You’re with me. We’re in our tent. Everything’s going to be fine.”
She looked into his eyes for a brief moment, a look of realization in her eyes. She nodded, lying on the bed and sleeping once more.
The whole thing terrified him.
John retrieved his pad from the floor nearby and called Doctor Tabata. “Where are you?” he asked.
“I’m tending to the kitobora,” said the doctor.
“I need you here,” said John, rather insistently. “She’s getting worse.”
“It’s the fever,” said Tabata. “She’ll be fine. I checked her vitals a few hours ago.”
“Come on, Doc. Can you please get over here and take a look at her so I can relax? She’s been acting really strange.”
There was a short pause. “Very well, Lieutenant Finn. Give me ten minutes to finish what I’m doing.”
John sighed. “Thank you.”
He ended the call and sat there, staring, watching her sleep. He’d only been here for a few weeks, but already he wanted to go home. Take her in his arms and leave for Central.
But he knew he couldn’t. Mei would never give up. She would never stop trying.
What can I do? He asked her silently. Tell me what I’m supposed to do.
Tabata arrived soon and checked Mei’s vitals, taking her temperature and giving her another injection. John wanted to ask how the old man could be so confident. But Bart had said he was one of the best physicians around, so certainly he had to know a thing or two.
“How is she?” asked John, once the doctor was finished.
“The delirium you’ve seen is from the fever and the drugs,” he explained. “I’ve given her something to help her sleep. You were right to call me.”
John frowned. “She seemed fine before, walking around the camp until she just fell over. I don’t get it.”
“Her body is still reacting to the radiation poisoning. She was never fully recovered, despite being able to function and talk coherently. The fever could be a late symptom.”
“What if it’s an infection? Maybe she picked up a bug,” said John, who thought he knew a thing or two about that.
“Interesting,” said the doctor, tapping his chin. “It’s not unheard of for a patient who’s been exposed to radiation to develop an autoimmune disease. You could be right.”
“Can you test for it?”
“Not without a lab. We’d have to transport her to another outpost.”
“Isn’t there something we can do here?” asked John.
Tabata’s eyes dropped to the floor and stayed there for a while. “Do you know when she was last ill?”
John tried to remember, but couldn’t place it. He’d known Mei all her life or most of it, and aside from their exposures in the Chamber when they were children, he’d never seen her sick or displaying any symptoms. In fact, neither of them had. “No, she’s always been healthy, I think.”
“Interesting,” muttered Tabata.
“Why?”
The old man scratched his chin. “Apologies, I should be clearer. Neither of you have been ill, correct?”
John nodded. “Right.”
“I’m no William Archer, but if I had to guess I’d attribute this to your remarkable genes.”
“What are you getting at?”
“Normally, in response to radiation poisoning, one of the procedures is to perform a blood transfusion, which is typically done with Oxyblood, a synthetic blood replacement. They make it in the labs and store it at the various hospitals around the city as well as the outposts in case of emergencies. We have some here, actually, but I’ve been reluctant to use it.”
“Why?” asked John.
Tabata paused. “Because of what she is, frankly. The two of you…your bodies aren’t normal. There’s a fair chance a procedure like this could do more harm than good.”
John imagined Mei’s reaction to hearing this. She’d be annoyed as hell, probably insulted. She hated the idea of them being different from anyone else—of being nonhuman. It was a separation both she and John had largely chosen to ignore, but it was nonetheless true. Fundamentally, genetically, biologically, they were different. “So what do we do?”
Tabata thought for a moment. “Lieutenant, do you mind if I ask what blood type you have?”
John shrugged. “No one’s ever told me.”
Tabata pulled out his pad. “Don’t worry. It’s no matter. I can pull it up on the medical database. All citizen files include blood type.”
“Oh, boy,” said John.
/>
“Ah, here we are,” exclaimed Tabata. “Type O. You’re a universal donor.”
“What about Mei?”
He tapped the screen a few times. “Seems she’s AB positive.”
Are those good things?” asked John.
“Good enough for our situation,” he said, smiling a little. “It means you can make a donation.”
John cocked his brow. “What?”
“Like I said before, one of the treatments for radiation poisoning is a blood transfusion, but since Oxyblood is specifically made for regular humans, we have no idea how someone like Doctor Curie would react to it. As such, it would be safer to perform a traditional transfusion with a compatible donor such as yourself.”
“But what if she has an infection, too?” asked John.
“If she has one, getting rid of the radiation will help her body fight the infection. Additionally, you each possess genetic qualities allowing you to heal faster. There is an added chance the healthy blood you donate could improve her recovery rate even more.”
“So no matter what, this will help her?”
“Probably,” said Tabata. “But there’s always a chance it might not do anything. Your bodies are uncharted territory as far as medical science goes.”
John didn’t even have to think about it. “I’m in,” he said with absolute certainty.
Tabata nodded. “Very well. I’ll get my tools and we can begin.”
******
John sat in his chair, watching the blood drain out of his arm and into a small box. A tube ran from the box into Mei’s arm. Imagining his blood circulating through her veins was a strange thought, but if this could help her, he didn’t mind. He only wanted her to be safe.
“The regulations on this say you shouldn’t do more than a single pint,” explained Tabata. “But we don’t have any other source to draw from, so if you think you can handle it afterwards, I’d like to try for two. Let me know if you feel sick or lightheaded.”
