by Greg Dragon
“They’re tight,” she said, holding out one foot.
Scot yawned, and tried to shake himself from his funk. He glanced at her feet. “Cara’s sneakers would have been better for escape.”
“No laces, and besides, we’re trapped—remember?” She flopped down beside him so he couldn’t ignore her, and she put her feet on the narrow ottoman beside his. The hot shower had made her sleepy. She forced her eyes to remain open.
He laced fingers behind his neck. “We’re secure and we’re not alone.” He crooked his head at the plasma screen. “Lab employees are trying to stop the burn protocol. Over fifty are locked in safe rooms.”
He’d changed the screen into six blocks featuring desperate survivors holed up in various spaces near company computers. “Isn’t it odd how the computers work but we can’t message out?” she asked.
“Flameion’s idea, according to Quitman.”
She pointed to one group. “They know how dangerous Swarm is, and they’re still trying to override security.”
“The will to live,” he said, reaching for a can of Pringles. “Most lab workers don’t know about Quitman’s research and development section.” He grabbed a handful of chips and started snacking. “Better eat and hydrate.” He pointed to a small dorm cooler.
Eddie Jean went over and looked inside: string cheese, a few cans of Faygo grape soda, bottled water, and a box of Snickers. Eddie Jean drank one bottle of water and opened another. She looked in a cabinet and found vanilla wafers.
“Join me?” she asked, snatching everything up and putting it on the round table.
“No, thanks.”
Sleep tried to take over and she yawned. Her eyes burned and she smelled adhesive. Eddie Jean turned around and sniffed the air. “You smell gas?”
Scot stood and sniffed. “It’s coming from the vent!” He jumped on the sofa and tried to hold a pillow over one vent. “Block the other one,” he yelled.
Eddie Jean grabbed a sofa pillow and jumped on the opposite end to block the second vent. She swayed on her feet. “It’s no use.”
“Is there anyone your grandfather won’t kill?”
“Why would he?”
Scot sneezed three times. “He lost control of us.”
Her head whirled. “He can’t be doing this.”
“Q programmed it in,” Scot muttered, dropping the pillow. “Damn Delaneys.”
Eddie Jean dropped to the sofa. Scot stood a bit longer and then slid down beside her. “Is it a poison?” Tears fell down her cheeks. “I feel sick.”
She slid over on her side face against the back. Scot shifted her position so she could breathe. He smoothed her hair back, and she realized he tried to make her comfortable before he passed out. A last glance at his pale face, and she knew he was fading fast. “Thank you.”
“You look like your mother.” Scot tossed a pillow onto the floor and fell on it. His deep breaths grew fainter.
Eddie Jean’s last thought was gratitude. She wasn’t going to die alone in a horror filled lab, and best of all, her father and brothers had escaped Cloudland forever.
Wilbur
Wilbur woke to an argument and the heavenly aroma of ripe apples. His punctured and slashed left wrist burned and throbbed. He raised his arms and saw his lacerations were swathed in Kerlix bandages. When his fingers moved, he sent out a silent prayer of thanks. He tried to sit up and grabbed his head before lying flat.
A crushing headache made him nauseated, and pain stabbed his eyes when he looked at the light. The cure for migraines, according to Grandmother Pearl, was to drink hydrating fluids. His body felt like it had run dry, and he craved salt.
“Doc isn’t coming, and Burr needs to see a doctor,” Cookie said to Lee. “What if he dies on us? How do we explain sitting here instead of having him checked out?”
“He’ll infect people. Burr told me, we, all of us, even Rose, are carriers.”
From his position on the teal-blue sofa in the library, Wilbur watched Rose’s face blanch whiter than sugar. He’d given her the wrong advice. She regretted hiring on at Harwood House, and who could blame her? He stared at the Monet over the blazing fireplace as he eavesdropped on their conversation.
“I’ve only worked two days,” Rose said. “I feel fine.”
The other women ignored her. Unlike Wilbur, the others wouldn’t accept her input. Rose would have to work in the mansion for months before they would turn to her for advice or allow her a share in group vote.
“We should leave as we planned.” Cookie’s voice sounded firm. “Burr couldn’t escape her trap, and he’s a big man.” She resumed peeling apples over a green bowl.
Planned? Cookie was the heart of the household, and she knew Evaney Harwood before the coma. Why would she make plans to leave Harwood House? Her family lived in Jamaica.
Lee’s foot tapped the wood floor. “Cook, she’s mainlined our thoughts! She’ll tell the hunchback what we’ve done, and we’ll end up back in Hell House or jail.”
“Jail?” Rose repeated. “What are you talking about? We haven’t abandoned our patient, yet. As the RN, I’m the only one who will be charged with a crime if we do.”
“Drag your nose from the clouds, woman,” Lee said.
“My nose is fine, thank you. You’ve been talking crazy about vampires and staking her. We have a normal alternative to this crisis, and it doesn’t involve holy water!”
Wilbur sat up with a grunt. All four women rushed to fuss over him, and he let them plump his pillow and adjust his blanket. He held up a hand. “Ladies, thanks for the rescue, but I had it under control.”
“What!”
Wilbur ignored Lee and said, “Vee, I’m thirsty.”
Veena jumped up and went to the kitchen.
He spoke to Rose first. “Thanks for dressing my cuts, but yes, you’re infected like the rest of us. I’m sorry.”
Rose closed her eyes and nodded.
Cookie put down her paring knife. “Burr,” she said, “look in my eyes and tell me I’m a disease carrier. I never get sick, you know.”
Wilbur stared into her bright eyes. “Miss Cookie, I’m not a doctor, but it’s true.”
She made clucking noises with her tongue and held up her hands. Both of her ring fingers were longer than her index fingers. “You’re saying my hands infect when I cook?”
Wilbur gentled his voice like he used to do with Grandmother Pearl. “I love your hands, Miss Cookie. You create beautiful and delicious meals with them and you knitted me my favorite sweater and scarf. No, I’m not saying when you cook you’re spreading disease. I’m saying you’re spreading disease and you don’t know it. We’re not responsible for what’s happened to us, but we need to deal with the responsibility of being carriers. No ER for me.”
Cookie’s chin quivered and her voice grew husky. “Evaney Harwood lived through hell with a she-devil grandmother long before she came here to live. She-devil scarred her body. I cried the first time I saw her bare back. We all heard Evaney screaming in her sleep. She’d wake with her pajamas soaked with pee and sweat. Back then when I worked nights, she told me no one had ever comforted her after a nightmare. My heart ached for that poor girl.”
“Well, she’s gold-leafed and immortal now,” Lee said in a sarcastic tone.
“I went to her room one night before Mary went crazy,” Cookie said. “The noises I heard sounded like a battle to me. A battle for her soul.”
“Oh, please! Vampires don’t have souls,” Lee said. “She drained Mary’s blood and now she wants his. Soon she’ll be flying room to room to suck us dry while we sleep. We know what to do. What are we waiting for?”
“You watch too many vampire shows,” Cookie muttered.
Veena rushed back with a tall glass of lemonade.
“Thank you, Vee.” Wilbur took the glass and drank all the liquid. Veena hesitated, took the empty glass, and went for a refill.
“Evaney is a sick woman and she depends on blood transfusions to live,” Wilb
ur said. “Lee, you know vampires aren’t real.” Wilbur burped, surprised by his words and calm tone.
Lee stalked over and stopped in front of him. She looked a bit wild with her hair out of place and her eyes appeared slick as glass. “Say it again with a straight face after what she made you do. We have to kill her or we’ll end up watching you die. The women will make the decision, not you. You’re not thinking straight.”
“And you are?” Rose asked.
“Evaney’s disease forces her to crave blood, just like I’m craving fluids because I’m dehydrated. She needs another transfusion. Right, Rose?”
Rose cleared her throat. “Burr, you gave her a pint of blood yesterday. Doc gives her blood transfusions without supporting lab work before or after. Lee may be right, as much as I hate to admit it. Doc’s medical supervision is screwy.”
Wilbur stared at Rose, dumbfounded.
“Have you forgotten what happened to you?” Rose asked. “I can’t. Look, we can end our conflict now. Let me call an ambulance to take her to the emergency room. I have no problem warning them she’s been exposed to meningitis. They won’t take risks, and they’ll protect themselves from infection. Hospital workers will do the same.”
The house vibrated with sharp keening sounds, like bees swarming. Ears popping from the noise, Wilbur tried to stand but his vision blurred.
Cookie started praying, and Rose flicked her lighter.
Lee said in a low voice, “Guess the vamp didn’t like your plan, Rose.”
Rose lit a cigarette and no one complained about the smoke. “I’d call it confirmation. We should act as one group. She’s trying to divide us by scaring us.”
Veena came in with a glass of water and full pitcher on a tray. “It worked. Count me as scared.” She put the tray on the coffee table and sat beside Cookie.
Wilbur reached for the glass and swallowed half. “Lee, I need you to explain your jail remark. Maybe Evaney’s reacting to what you’ve done. So?”
Lee clenched her fists and glowered at him. “Whose side are you on?”
“I’m on truth’s side.”
Lee shook her head and pointed a finger at him. “She’s cast a spell over you. The banshee is the living dead, and she’s calling her Renfield for help. We have to kill her before she gets stronger. Tonight!”
“I’ll second that,” Cookie said.
Eddie Jean
Eddie Jean woke to a full bladder and heard noises. She sat up and watched Scot’s left foot kick against the sofa. Her bleary eyes couldn’t focus on the microwave clock until she rubbed them. Almost 5:00 a.m. She’d hoped to sleep through the burn protocol.
Eddie Jean climbed over Scot and went to the bathroom. She washed her hands and face and then combed sleep tangles from her hair. Should she wake Scot or face the burn alone?
He called out for his dad and whimpered. She came back to the sofa and shook him. If he had slept peacefully, she wouldn’t have. Eddie Jean leaned over to shake him again, and he grabbed her arm. Blue eyes looked angry and then they calmed.
“Sorry,” he murmured, releasing her arm and sitting up. She sat on the sofa and crossed her legs meditation style. Her granddad had chosen to sedate trapped people before the lab burned, and, for some reason, she thought better of him.
Scot rubbed his eyes. “What’s happened?”
“Q sedated us, remember? It’s 5:00 a.m.”
“The bastard.” Scot jumped to his feet. “He put us to sleep all night but made sure we woke in time to be burned alive! What a humanitarian. If we had helped him, he’d be long gone and we’d be stuck here. You and I were everyone’s best escape chance.”
Her head remained foggy. “He—”
“Didn’t gas the others,” Scot yelled, and pointed at the plasma screen. “We would wake long before they would. He gassed one room—the XOs room.”
She turned to look at the screen. One pod of employees had become Swarmers. Inside their secure areas people talked, paced, and three couples were having sex. They didn’t look rested nor were they yawning.
Scot was right…Quitman Delaney…evil…pure evil. He targeted XOs. Why? He meant to wipe out XOs and Swarmers and anyone who knew the truth. Panting as the full realization struck, she swore never to give him a second thought ever again.
“Did you wash his blood off your hands?” Scot asked before staggering to the bathroom.
He knew she felt guilty. She couldn’t help wondering if guilt had an accompanying odor. No more guilt. She watched the safe people. Even though the end neared they reached out to touch, to hug, and to laugh. She wanted to join them in the last hour.
Scot came back into the room and Eddie Jean said, “I prayed before we passed out. Prayed for you, too.”
“Can’t you give up religion?” He stared at the computer images.
“You need to deal with who I am, not who you want me to be.”
He wouldn’t look at her.
“Prayers aren’t like looking up answers in a dictionary. Heartfelt prayers lead to feelings mostly, and feelings comfort believers.”
“Praying makes me uncomfortable.”
“I don’t pray as entertainment, it’s private.”
“I’ve seen you going to church.”
She shrugged. “Prayers boost trust, hope, and faith. They make me stronger.”
“Don’t want to fight with you.” He combed damp hair off his forehead and his hair settled down back over his eyes. “Thanks for sticking with me. I know it was hard after I betrayed you.”
She jumped up and jogged in place. “Forget it.”
“EJ.”
“I said forget it.”
“Your eyes look haunted, and it’s my fault,” he said.
She stopped and flipped hair behind her shoulders. Swallowing the denial made her feel like a little kid again. Tears welled. She held her breath, hoping to quell them. “It nearly killed me when you handed me over to him after I felt so close to you. We both healed Bill. I wanted to die when my grandfather tried to infect me, but, worse, he made me watch my little sister and other Swarmers eat my mother’s flesh. I’ll never be able to trust anyone again if I can’t pray. So do what you want. I’m a Christian, and I’m not hiding my faith to make you feel better!”
A grin cracked his face. He peered over at her from under too long hair. “Better eat,” he said, and tossed a candy bar to her. “You need energy before we blow this joint.”
She caught it and tore the wrapper. “We’re martyrs, remember?” She took a bite.
“I can get us out.”
She stopped chewing. He looked serious. For a moment, hope washed over and she yearned to feel the sun on her face again. “Why didn’t you say so?”
“You, we needed to grieve. I didn’t expect to get gassed.”
Tears flooded her eyes.
Scot said, “You’re acting emo again.”
She wiped her eyes and took another bite. “Sorry, go on.”
“Trev suggested we shouldn’t blindly trust Quitman. He found the burn protocol file and wrote code to short it out and reboot the system. Trev didn’t think workers should die because Cloudland-Flameion produced monsters.”
“What about the Swarmers?”
“A few might escape.”
Shocked, she stared at him in disbelief. “No, we can’t let any out.”
He ripped open a Snickers bar and ate half. He spoke with his mouth full. “Here are the possibilities: All doors could open or none because Trev got the code wrong. Just you and I might get out and the others don’t. Or the pits might be released or just the nursery. If we’re lucky, the doors will only open for a short time, like they’re supposed to do, so people can escape. Our runway to the outside is much longer than the others. Don’t plan on the doors staying open. Run like hell. Agreed?” He gulped grape soda.
“My mother, sister, and your dad might get out?”
“Quitman too. Swarmers don’t die unless shot through the right eye.”
�
�Nursery? That implies—”
“No, not babies.”
“Why are so many kept here?” she asked.
“Black gold. Their blood changes from red to a deep purple that looks black. Q milked them for blood. He used its special properties for new drug development. Quitman asked Flameion for people with specific blood types to turn into Swarmers. They arrived drugged on the company plane. Q wanted to know if Swarmer blood was different based on original blood types. He experimented and found out the richest blood begins as A negative.”
“My God!” She dropped her head into her hands. “He infected people to drain their blood? Who were they?”
“Enemies, vagrants, and drug dealers.”
She shook her head, speechless.
“See why I hate him?”
She nodded. “The Hum will explode soon. Massive change is coming and no one’s prepared.”
Scot shrugged. “We’re doing all we can. We’re a team now, and we stick together. All in?”
Eddie Jean punched his fist. “People in town won’t know what hit them.”
He handed the soda can to her, and she took a long swallow. “I’ll beam the other XOs as soon as we clear. They can notify the authorities.”
“No one listens to teenagers. They’ll call a meeting before doing anything.”
“Trev, Brodie, and Cara know we’re here. You sent what happened in telep, remember? They’ve warned friends. There are a few.”
“The emergency storm alert needs to be activated.”
Scot nodded in agreement. “We can make a run for the emergency shelter on Fringe Mountain and activate it. It’s not far from here.” He opened another warm drink.
They took a minute to eat and drink.
“Will people sense the danger and get to safety?” she asked.
“Don’t know, but it’s worth a try.”
“My dad and brothers left town, but what about your family?”
He looked down and his jaw muscles clenched before he spoke. “Mom called me to come home after Q snatched you from the elevator. I went. Our van was packed, and the other kids were home. Mom said we were moving to Tennessee. She told me after I left for school a deputy delivered divorce papers. Mom couldn’t take the humiliation anymore.”
