by Greg Dragon
“Same here. My grandmother had to sign for me to be tested.” Wilbur frowned. “I read later her bone marrow drive registered more black people than any other. I was in high school and never dreamed I’d be a live-in orderly.”
“You’re saying we were selected to be infected?” Lee’s face scrunched up.
When he tried to console her, she pushed him away. “Baby, we were hired for our blood types,” he explained.
“But why mainly black folk with O negative blood?” she asked.
“I’m guessing Mary figured it out. I didn’t ask questions when I gave blood. I’m saving for grad school, and Doc pays well.”
Lee flung the poster on the floor and paced on it. “Oh, hell no! No way, I’m sick with a disease. I recognize one name on the list—Amanda Perry. Wasn’t she a physical therapist?”
Wilbur leaned over to pick up the poster. “Yeah, she filled in during Tom’s vacation. I’ll bet she’s not O negative. She died from a fever of unknown origin in Costa Rica. Girl I dated almost died from meningitis. She’s brain-damaged in a nursing home.”
Lee’s hand went to her mouth and his cell rang. Wilbur answered.
“I’m Cate Collins, Dave Collins’s mother. I read your message on his Facebook memorial page and decided to call as you asked.”
Wilbur sat down. “Thank you.” Lee stood beside him with her hand on his shoulder.
“Is she still alive?”
“Yes, Miss Harwood remains in a coma. I don’t mean to pry, but I’m looking into the disappearance of your son and the other students.”
Cate Collins sneezed and asked, “Why?”
“House help have gotten sick.”
“I understand. Thank you for reaching out to me.”
“Did Mitchell Cain, a private investigator for the estate, ever contact you?”
“No, I had no idea they hired an investigator. Are you working with him?”
“No, he went missing in Alabama last year while looking for answers. His wife gave me his notes. Do you know what the students were searching for?”
A long silence followed and Wilbur asked, “Mrs. Collins?”
“Do you promise to share, or is this another one-way street?”
Wilbur thought about it. “I just found out I could be a carrier of whatever put Miss Harwood into her coma. So yeah, I’ll share.”
Mrs. Collins gasped. “I’m so sorry. My husband snuck into Miss Harwood’s hospital room hoping for answers. I believe he picked up his bug in her room. It took two years, but he slipped away, leaving doctors confused as to the cause of death. He didn’t have normal blood cultures, doctors had never seen the like before, and no medicines worked. He had tics, weird rashes, and a massive infection. His kidneys shut down.”
“Do you have O negative blood?” he asked and winced when she gasped.
“My God! Yes, but my son and husband had type A positive.”
“It’s my theory, no proof.”
“My son found a journal in an alumni donation box. The story went: A doctor discovered a group of men, all brothers from Cloudland, during WWII with super immune systems. Their blood killed cancer cells. When they were discharged, the men disappeared. The doctor, Herman Morton, didn’t try to find them until his youngest daughter became ill,” she said, voice cracking.
“I never meant to upset you,” Wilbur said.
She took a deep breath. “I want to help you. In the journal, Doctor Morton mentioned a cave the boys talked about, a place where they were taught never to reveal their special differences. Doctor Morton speculated certain people in Cloudland covered up their special gifts for reasons the brothers wouldn’t share. One brother drew a circle on a state map marking the cave’s location. The doctor thought the answer was in their cave, like in a water source. Dave found the map inside the journal.” Mrs. Collins coughed and blew her nose.
“Dave stole the journal and told me what he’d read. I wish I’d told him to put it back, but instead I agreed he should tell Winn Harmon. Winn’s sister was fighting ovarian cancer, and Winn took the diagnosis hard. Dave thought if they found the cave the Harmon family could offer money if people in Cloudland would donate blood or bone marrow to help Winn’s sister.”
“That’s not in the official record,” Wilbur said. “Part of the mystery is no one knows why they left Duke to go to Alabama.”
“I couldn’t brand my son a thief. My husband and I thought it might impair the search and rescue.” Her voice choked up. “Imagine telling the world six bright and gifted students concluded ‘find a cave, find the men’s ancestors, and save a life.’ Silly, but true.”
Wilbur stroked his upper lip and asked, “Doctor Morton. Was he a quack?”
“I looked him up in a bio-medical library in Houston—he was a brilliant research doctor. I found out that when his daughter got leukemia, he asked his brother to locate the Cloudland brothers. He never returned. Morton’s daughter died, and he died two years later.”
Wilbur asked, “What do you think happened?”
“I think they stumbled on the cure for all diseases in the cave. Someone in Cloudland sells the cure to the highest bidder. They’ll kill to keep it secret.”
Lee’s eyes glistened when he glanced at her. She reached over and entwined their fingers. “Thank you, for your honesty, Mrs. Collins.”
“Son, don’t go there to search,” she whispered before hanging up.
Wilbur put down his phone, feeling exhausted. Lee sat on his lap and his heart started pumping again. He was afraid to move or speak. She snuggled her head on his chest. His arms slid around her.
Lee said, “You’re not going to Cloudland, so kick the notion out of your brain bowl.”
Wilbur sighed. “Lee, Evaney Harwood enters my head whenever she wants. I’m afraid she’ll make me slit my wrists just like she did Mary.”
Lee pressed a hand to his forehead. “No fever.”
“I’m serious.”
Lee leaned back to stare into his eyes. “I know,” she said, and then kissed him.
Wilbur closed his eyes and wallowed in the sensation of her tongue in his mouth. This was way better than his imagination or his dreams. He prolonged the kiss as long as he could.
“Let’s fill your mind up with other things and there won’t be room for her,” Lee said.
Despite all he had learned Wilbur said, “I’m in your hands.”
She shifted around on his lap—nothing had ever felt so wickedly good.
“Take me to bed.”
He stood with her in his arms. Her phone rang.
“Don’t answer.”
Lee answered. “Cookie?”
“Let her wait.” He tried not to beg.
Lee listened and said, “We’re on our way.”
Eddie Jean
Eddie Jean watched the two doctors make their harrowing escape on the monitor. An alarm shrieked—the burn protocol began its countdown. No way out now. She closed out the computer just before the room barriers dropped. She carried the computer up to the monitoring pod. Eddie Jean stood at the edge and watched them interact. Peterson went straight for the ladder, but Jenna shoved him aside. He snarled.
She leaned over to observe Kimmy. Her little sister should be taking piano lessons, riding horses, and picking out a Halloween costume. Eddie Jean blinked away tears.
Peterson tried the ladder again.
Strong hands gripped her shoulder and she lost her balance.
“Steady, soccer girl,” Scot said, pulling her back.
Eddie Jean threw her arms around him. Like it or not, their parents had thrown them into a partnership. Even if said alliance had trapped them in Quitman’s lab. The odd twitching from being near Scot kicked back on. The sensation no longer bothered her. Correcting Swarm 2 would be a nightmare, and she didn’t want to do it alone. The alarm went silent.
“I’m sorry I lied and turned you over to Quitman.”
She flinched and punched his shoulder. “Aren’t you supposed to be m
aking speeches at the pep rally and bonfire?”
“I betrayed you, EJ. I’m sorry.” He rubbed his shoulder.
She opened Doctor Cho’s laptop. “I asked for help and you came. I forgive you, but the alarm means we’re trapped. We’re going to burn in a few hours.”
“Still emo,” he said, followed by a wry grin. His ramrod posture relaxed, as did the pinched strain on his face. Below them Swarmers growled and snorted. He leaned over to look down. “Ugly, aren’t…” His voice drifted into disbelief. “Wait, is that your mom?”
She joined him and looked down. “Kimmy is beside her.”
He grabbed her hand. “Sick. Q is a psycho, I’m sorry, I didn’t know.” Scot stared down at them and his grip tightened.
Eddie Jean didn’t say anything else until he stepped back from the ledge. His eyes blinked nonstop. He was afraid to piece it together, and she didn’t want to hurt him. A stabbing pain appeared between her eyebrows. Oh God, please help me.
He shoved both fists into the pockets on his football jacket. “We all felt your misery and the others know I sold you out. They don’t trust me. Q’s evil rubbed off on me, I guess.”
She licked her lips. Scot couldn’t be left in denial. “Q tried to infect me with the fluids from a man with Swarm 2.”
“I know about Swarm disease. Is Swarm 2 something new?”
She couldn’t look at him, so she stared out across the domed ceiling, hoping he’d remember that today was affair afternoon. “Q took me home to infect me with the new virus he called Swarm 2. It’s airborne and there is no cure.”
His body went rigid. “Your house?”
She nodded.
His voice sounded like he called an offensive play. “Beam it to me—right now.”
Tucking hair behind her ears, she sent the thought stream using telep. She began when her granddad yanked her out of the hospital elevator. Her story wasn’t sanitized, either. She couldn’t lift her gaze higher than his knees. Eddie Jean didn’t want to see his face when he learned about his dad. Below them, the agitated Swarmers hissed like snakes. They sensed her and Scot above but couldn’t figure out how to make contact.
Scot doubled over like she had punched him.
She put her hand on his back, and he screamed. He kicked a trashcan, tossed Doctor Cho’s laptop over the side, and yanked a heart-rate monitor from its wires. Scot threw it on the Swarmers below. Cursing, he punched the wall with his fists. His knuckles bled and the scent agitated the Swarmers. They attacked each other. After a few minutes she heard him panting, she waited for him to throw her off the ledge next. “Damn Delaneys.”
He tossed papers, kicked medicine and equipment boxes off the pod, and threw medical charts into the air before sliding back against the wall into a sitting position. Below, the infected fought over the objects.
“Scot, I’m sorry.”
“Don’t. Just don’t,” Scot muttered, icy-eyed. He covered his face with his hands.
“There’s more.”
He groaned. “I didn’t say goodbye. I loved him, and I never told him.” He wrapped his arms around his stomach and dropped his head.
She waited until he calmed. Eddie Jean squatted down beside him, unsure how to proceed. His body language warned her not to touch him. “I’m so sorry. What can I do?”
He didn’t answer her.
She waited until he calmed. “I need your help. People are trapped and can’t get out. They’re not infected and shouldn’t die here,” she whispered.
He took a deep breath and wiped his face. “Okay, beam the last bit, ’cause your voice reminds me of her.”
She winced and complied.
He sat without moving and then jumped to his feet. “Yeah. Let’s give Q payback.”
Scot’s eyes had turned flinty and narrowed into squints. She barely recognized him. Grief had molded his face in a rictus-like expression, like a scream frozen in death. He would never let her help by removing his pain. “Why did you come here? High school threw a party for you. You’re a winner.”
“I’ve lost my father, EJ. I don’t care about school. Let’s end Quitman.”
She wanted to know what changed in his heart more than anything. What made him come to help her instead of sending Trev or Cara? Eddie Jean decided not to ask a second time. “We have to be better than him. We need to consider all options.”
“He needs to die!”
Eddie Jean waited before answering. “This is bigger than you or me. The Hum will explode in the morning. We have to warn people to leave Cloudland. Swarm 2 could be passing person to person right now, and when the Hum explodes the yellow gas will fill the air. Swarm 1 and Swarm 2 might combine and change people into something even worse. Cloudland could become a viral hot zone.”
“But not for us,” he shouted, beating his chest. “Not for our kind.”
“Our kind is human. You have family in town.”
“Good riddance.” His voice sounded like a key scratching a car.
He didn’t mean it. His mother probably felt as helpless as her father over the affair. Eddie Jean stood, determined to heal him so he could think clearly.
“Don’t touch me.”
His tone unnerved her. If she reached for him, he could turn violent. “Look down at my mother. You want the same for yours?”
Scot frowned. “Mom wouldn’t force him to make a choice. She enabled the affair. Every Thursday she worked in the shop so he could leave!”
“Every Wednesday night my dad went out to the garage and stared at his father’s gun collection. My dad hates guns. I worried one night he’d pick one up and load it. I prayed my father would never hurt yours,” she said, sitting beside him.
Scot wiped his eyes. “The whole town knew about them. I told Dad to stay away from my games, hoping to shame him into breaking up with Jenna. He chose your mother over me. Why?”
Eddie Jean sighed. “Doesn’t every adult go through a phase of wanting to feel like a teen again? They dated in high school. I guess they never fell out of love. Change has to start from within. They didn’t want to change.”
Revenge drained from his face, and he popped his knuckles. “What is it with you? Don’t you ever get pissed? You don’t have to fix everyone.”
He read her mind? “I prayed to God to make me a healer so I could fix broken people. Even as a child our enhanced senses showed me where people hurt. I didn’t know what I asked for…the weight of suffering.” Her voice trailed off, and she held up her hands. “My healing hands aren’t genetic. I’m proof God answers prayers.”
“Always emo, aren’t you?” Scot took her left hand in his and studied it. “If it’s not genetic, how did I help you heal Bill?”
She had no answer, but he sounded more like himself.
“Let’s ice the lab and take care of your grandfather.”
“First, use telep to warn the others,” she said.
He shook his head. “XOs can’t beam from the building. Don’t know what blocks it. We can beam to one another inside but not out. Phones?”
“All crashed when the burn protocol activated. Let me contact Q for alternatives.”
“Don’t bother. He’s been in telep calling me to come to his aid. Come on.” He pulled her up and brushed bangs from her eyes. They stared at each other and he said, “I don’t blame Dad, Jenna, or you anymore. I blame Quitman.” He ran down the corridor.
“Wait,” she shouted, “Swarmers are loose.” She turned to scan the hallways ahead and realized Scot destroyed the laptop. Eddie Jean peered over and watched one pick up the heart monitor. He hurled it against the exit door. She ran after Scot.
He waited beside a wall with a tunnel behind it, according to the shadows in her vision.
She stopped and ran her hands over the smooth wall. “You’ve used it before?”
“Quitman brought us here for training at night—well, all but you.”
“He trained you? You knew Swarmers existed and didn’t warn people?”
A
mean look entered his eyes. “I’ve tracked and killed two. He called me a natural-born killer. This is his escape route in case they got loose.”
Shocked, she grabbed his arm. “Q says mean things to mess with your mind.”
“Worked.” Scot pressed a hidden panel and the door rolled open.
She glanced inside. Dim lighting, like nightlights, were scattered every ten feet. She couldn’t make herself step inside. Scot yanked her in. Shivering, she waited beside him as he closed the entry. He rounded on her and put his hands on her shoulders. Scot beamed the exit points to her in case they got separated. He took off. The lab was larger than she realized. They heard shrieks, grunts, and screams through the walls.
Scot stopped and she pressed close behind him. “Get to the computer and make sure we’re in emergency lockdown,” he said. “Leave Quitman to me.”
Louis
Susan laughed and pressed the gas pedal before shifting gears. “Very noble suggestion, Louis, but what part of ‘burn protocol’ don’t you understand? Going back is suicide.”
“Are you certain?”
“I have two bullets left.” She cracked the window and cool air blew in. “I know I can’t board the plane without you, but I can drive home. Your choice, I’m not going back.” She pointed a finger, and he saw the airfield in a curve up ahead. The airport lights gleamed like Las Vegas. He was free! Relief relaxed tense muscles.
Susan stopped to allow him to get out if he wanted.
“I’m conflicted,” he said. “I can’t help Eddie Jean without you.”
“Don’t draw me into your guilt. You know only public exposure will stop Ava.”
“Did my father work here?”
Susan cleared her throat and stopped the car. “Yes. He first suggested a vaccine, but Quitman thought he could do better. He turned to a vaccine as a last resort.”
Louis felt weak and nauseated. “Dad saw Swarmers and did nothing?”
“Not a live case. He saw film, but I suspect he treated it as a theoretical problem, not a human problem. The horror isn’t exposed until you see them as Swarmers and stripped of their humanity. They’re people you ate dinner with, or attended a surprise birthday party for.”
