Chapter 24 – Sonya
They played slap-jack for twenty minutes, but Sonya kept beating Chase so badly that they had to quit. She thought he was probably still feeling the effects of the dart gun drug, but he also seemed distracted. She wasn’t on her best game, either. Sonya was afraid, but she also felt strangely alert. She wondered if it was the antidote she had been given. Of course, it was also the cold shower, too. She felt cleaner than she had felt in weeks. After weeks of lake baths and no baths, she had forgotten what real clean felt like. And whatever had been in the soap combined with the lights Chase had told her had been UV lights had her skin tingling, almost burning. Even under the fluorescent lights of the waiting room, she could tell she was a little darker now, maybe even a little burnt.
Chase sat in one of the chairs, playing solitaire. Sonya paced. She sipped continuously at a cup of water. She had used the little bathroom once, but Chase hadn’t yet. She kept reminding him to drink, to hurry up. The bathroom was a refreshing change, too. A flushing toilet was better than squatting in the brush or using the outhouses back at the camp. She studied the walls, the magazines, the furniture, but they didn’t really tell her anything specific. Everything seemed to radiate government somehow, but that was about it. There weren’t even return addresses or anything on the waiting room magazines. Her feet grew cold from pacing on the tile floor, and finally she sat down on a chair next to Chase, tucking her feet up under her to warm them, and started pointing out the plays he was missing. Before too long, he scowled at her and stopped playing.
“What do you think happens next?” Sonya asked as he sat just shuffling the cards over and over. She knew he wouldn’t know, but she wanted his best guess.
Chase scowled again and answered without looking up from the cards he held. She was afraid he wouldn’t say anything, but he finally began speaking slowly. “They brought us here like prisoners, but somehow I don’t exactly feel like a prisoner. Something else, maybe. An asset, somehow. A glorified lab rat, maybe. Anyway, I’m pretty sure we won’t be given free run of the place. We’ll probably be tucked away somewhere. I imagine we’ll be separated. Will you be okay?”
“I’ll have to be,” she said, although the idea scared her. In a much lower voice, “Do you think they have Dad here somewhere?”
Chase looked up at her and then quickly back down at his cards. He shrugged, then reached up and tapped his ear, then turned the tap into a scratch. She got the message. People were probably listening to them. The one thing she wanted to talk about most was off limits. She took another sip of water. She felt pressure building. She would soon be able to go again. She reminded Chase to drink again. Time seemed to be passing so slowly.
Finally, after Chase’s third trip to the bathroom (and her fifth; she wondered if she hadn’t had too much water), the door opened. The man who had been behind the glass walked in with another older man. Sonya decided the first guy, the redhead, was late twenties, maybe thirty. It was hard to tell. He was one of those people who looked young but could be older. It wasn’t just his red hair that made Sonya think he looked like Ron Howard in the Happy Days reruns she had seen on basic cable. He had the same open, innocent face.
Chase, still standing, turned to face the pair. Sonya stood and walked to Chase’s side. Chase started to walk forward to meet them, but the older man put one hand on the holstered pistol at his waist and raised the other, holding it out toward Chase, palm out.
“Sorry, son, but we don’t get friendly around here until we’re pretty sure about you,” said the older man. Sonya recognized the voice. This was the one the other soldiers had called Top. He had close-cropped, dark brown hair that was thinning on top and starting to gray at the sides. He must have spent a lot of time outdoors because his skin had a leathery look and he had deep squint-lines around his eyes. His face was stern, but the red-haired guy looked apologetic.
“I guess I understand that,” Chase said. “But we know even if we were going to try anything we wouldn’t have much chance.” He gestured at his hospital gown. “I’m sure not hiding any weapons or anything.”
The red-haired man looked at Top and then back at Chase. “We’re sorry for the way we had to get you here and some of the treatment you’ve received. We know it’s not polite, but politeness kind of goes out the window in the event of a major epidemic. Especially one with side effects like this one. I’m Dr. Rogers. This is First Sergeant Koeller. And you are?”
“Confused,” Chase replied. “What is this place? Who are you, Dr. Rogers? We’re glad to be safe, don’t get me wrong, but we were doing okay on our own out there.” Sonya liked Chase’s answer. She was going to let him do all the talking. They had talked about their backstory a little, but he was a much better liar than she was. She could back him up, but she would rather him be the one to lie outright.
“Well,” said Koeller, “I’ll put it this way. We’re about the only facility that was ready for this. We have a pretty good number of men down here. We have scientists who are studying the problems caused by this plague, but we’re not even sure why. Civilization as we knew it is done. Even if we find a cure, you immunes are all really all that’s left.”
Dr. Rogers looked at Koeller, a frown flashing across his youthful features. When he turned back to Chase, he said, “There may be some places. And you’re what they need. You might be part of the cure.”
Sonya waited for Chase’s reply. He seemed to be thinking hard. “Okay. You didn’t really answer the question completely, but maybe you can fill me in later with the details. I’ll tell you a little about us. I was down here with my parents on vacation. We were supposed to stay a month. We had a house rented on Sanibel Island when everything broke down. My parents got bit and turned, and I was headed north, trying to get out of here. I was hoping it wasn’t the whole country. I met Sonya on the way. She was down here with her dad. He was a truck driver. She said he got bit, too.”
Koeller looked skeptical, but Dr. Rogers was nodding. “That must have been tough. I’m surprised you both lasted so long.” The second statement sounded almost like a question.
“We stayed out in the boonies as much as possible. It wasn’t too hard at first, when they only came out at night. Since then we’ve done more hiding and surviving than trying to get north,” Chase said. “Is it the whole country?”
“As far as we know,” Koeller said. “There may be a few outposts like us, but we haven’t reached them. And there may be some isolated pockets of non-immunes, like Bea— I mean the doctor said. But as far as we know, we’re on our own.”
Sonya had watched enough crime shows to suspect the doctor and the soldier of playing good cop-bad cop, but if that’s what they were doing, they were pretty convincing in their roles. She thought Dr. Rogers probably was a nice guy. She felt pretty sure Koeller probably was a jerk. She decided to keep her mouth shut as much as possible and just pay attention to what was going on around her.
“Are you ready to move to your quarters?” Dr. Rogers asked, indicating the open door. “We can’t offer much. We can get you out of your hospital gowns, though. We have sweat suits. I’m afraid you’ll be stuck with flip-flops for your feet, though. Your sleeping quarters are a bit austere, but there are clean sheets.”
“Clean sheets sound good,” Chase said, stepping through the doorway. Dr. Rogers followed. Koeller gestured to Sonya that she should go next. She followed out into a corridor where two soldiers waited. “What is this place, anyway?” Chase asked.
Sonya watched as Dr. Rogers looked at Koeller with raised eyebrows. Koeller shrugged and nodded. “It was built during the Cold War. Do you know about the Cold War?”
“Of course. We studied it in school. Russia. America. Nuclear stuff,” Chase replied.
Dr. Rogers looked pleased. “Exactly. The original facility was built in a reclaimed phosphate mine.” As he talked he walked, Chase walking beside him. Koeller walked beside Sonya, and the two soldiers brought up the rear. “It was built twenty feet unde
rground with six-foot thick cement walls and meant as a shelter for government officials. That was in the fifties. In the eighties, a little more money was put into it. It was expanded, and they added or updated air purifying and other self-contained features. Water purification. Air recirculation. Upgraded the main part a little, but you’ll notice a lot of stuff is kind of old loo king.”
Sonya looked around. She didn’t know what it was supposed to look like, but somehow it did look like something built a long time ago. She glanced at Koeller and caught him studying her. He was undismayed at being caught watching her and didn’t look away. She tried to stare him down, to shame him. He had brown eyes, but there was no hint of warmth in them. They were a muddy shade of brown, but there was cold calculation behind them. She looked away first.
“Then, around 2001,” continued Dr. Rogers, “it was upgraded again to be a shelter in the event of some kind of biological warfare. It was staffed with mainly older soldiers, career soldiers. Top clearances, no family. There were only about twenty of them here. Easy duty. As some retired, they were replaced. No one talked. Then, when things started breaking loose, they grabbed some of us from the university.” Sonya thought there was something false in his tone or least a lot more he wasn’t saying. “Just as everything went completely crazy, they brought in some of the National Guard people and all of the reservists that were still healthy. There’s forty-nine soldiers here now and seven scientists. And there’s the immunes we’ve been able to bring in, people like you. We have about nineteen of those.” Sonya didn’t like the way he hesitated before he said “those.” She felt de-humanized by the label.
“You seem to keep everyone divided up,” Sonya said. He turned around and looked at her, surprised.
“Well, yes, I suppose so, but we consider survival a group effort. Everyone has a role. Immunes are an important part of the team,” he said sincerely. Koeller made some sort of noise next to her, but when she looked at him, his face was unreadable and he looked straight ahead. She followed his gaze. The corridor they were in was a long one. There were doors to either side, but there was something unused looking about them. They had long metal handles, and the paint on the handles looked almost new. At last they came to a cross corridor and they turned left. Twenty feet further on, and they came to a closed door. “Behind this door is living quarters. For everybody. We keep this door closed. The soldiers have an open bunkroom on the bottom floor. The rest of the rooms are on the second floor.”
Next to the door was an old looking keypad. Sonya was strangely disappointed there wasn’t some sort of optic scan or something, another idea holding on from the movies. Instead, there was just an ancient keypad, the keys yellowing from white to ivory, the numbers almost worn off. Koeller stepped up, and shielding their view with his back, entered the code. There was a thunk and Dr. Rogers pushed down on the long metal handle, pulled the door open to reveal another door facing them. They crowded into the vestibule between the doors. One of the soldiers closed the door behind them. There was a sound of machinery in the walls and a movement of air. “This is probably not even necessary. Everyone should be fully decontaminated before reaching this point. But we haven’t changed the protocol,” Koeller said. There was a thunk from the door in front, and Dr. Rogers opened that door and they all walked through. Again, one of the soldiers at the rear closed the door behind them. Directly ahead of them a large room opened out. The ceilings in the corridor had been pretty low, but the ceiling in here was about fourteen feet. Two rows of bunk beds stretched into the distance. Sonya guessed there were enough beds for a hundred people here, maybe more, but there were only mattresses, blankets, and sheets on the bunks nearest the door. The naked springs of the other bunks were somehow depressing. She expected to see more people, but there were only ten soldiers in the bunks nearest the door. Six lay on bunks apparently asleep and there were another four seated at a table in the middle of the walkway between the bunks playing cards. As she watched, another soldier came from a door at the other end of the room, naked from the waist up and still toweling his head.
“The facility was meant to hold many more men. Even act as a shelter to non-military personnel. So we have stockpiled supplies that could easily last us a couple of years,” Koeller said.
“But this area is just for the soldiers now,” said Dr. Rogers. “The scientists and the immunes stay upstairs in the VIP rooms that were meant for the government leaders. This way.” He pointed to their right at a metal staircase. At the top, another doorway opened onto a broad hall. On either side of the hall were doors. About halfway down Sonya saw something that looked out of place. A wall of sorts with a door in the middle. Everything else was industrial steel and practicality. This wall looked like it had been hastily put up. The welds were visible and rough looking, and there were even some gaps where the sheet metal didn’t reach across the steel girders and beams.
“These are the VIP rooms. My room is here, as is First Sergeant Koeller’s. Your rooms, for safety reasons, are behind the wall.” Dr. Rogers led them down the hallway until they were standing outside the heavy door. There was no fancy keypad here, ancient or not. There were brackets for a cross bar and padlocked hasps holding it in place. “You are not prisoners. I want you to know that.” His face took on an expression of deep sorrow. “We’ve just had some issues with immunes. As you can imagine, some of them suffered deep psychological damage out there. This is as much for their protection as ours.” He produced a key from his pocket and unlocked the padlocks.
“Stand back,” Koeller instructed. He placed his hand on the pistol again, but his eyes were on the door. Dr. Rogers lifted the bar from its seat and pushed the door open. A continuation of the hallway was revealed, as were the doors to either side. At first, the hallway was empty, but the sound had roused the occupants. Heads began to appear in the doorways, but none of the immunes stepped out of their rooms. To Sonya, most of them appeared to be scared, although here and there a look of anger told her that there was still some spirit left in the people behind the wall separating the immunes from the rest of the people in the facility.
“New arrivals,” announced Dr. Rogers through the doorway. “Make them feel welcome, please.” He gestured to Sonya and Chase to enter. Sonya felt reluctance to cross the makeshift threshold created by the lately added door. She glanced at Chase. He nodded grimly. He felt it too. She walked through with Chase following her. “There are several empty rooms. In a storage closet at the end on the left you will find sweat-suits of different sizes and flip-flops. I’m sorry it has to be this way, but we have to be sure of our own safety. Please, make yourselves comfortable. Later, or maybe tomorrow, we’ll be sending someone for you to take you down for testing and sampling. Painless procedure. I’ll try to check in on you.” With that, he closed the door. The other immunes began to fill the hallway.
Chapter 25 – Chase
“Welcome to the Hanoi Hilton,” said the bearded man. Chase looked him over. He was a small man, and thin despite a deep gravelly voice. He was dressed in a bright yellow sweat-suit that was just a little too large. The sleeves and pant legs were rolled. He wore wire framed glasses.
“The what?” Chase asked.
The man chuckled drily. “My little joke.”
“Yeah, and no one thinks it’s funny but you,” said another woman emerging from a different doorway. “You guys aren’t dangerous, are you?”
Chase looked down at his hospital gown and back at Sonya. “No, not hardly. Truth is, I’m still a little weak from the tranquilizer or whatever they shot me with.”
The hallway began to fill with people of all ages and sizes, but none looked like threats. Chase noted that most of the people appeared to be younger. He only spotted one or two who looked like they might be over thirty.
The woman who had spoken walked forward with her hand extended. She was a black woman, probably in her mid-twenties, maybe in her early thirties. Her hair was pulled back in a severe bun. She was just a little taller th
an Sonya, but built much thicker. “The tranquilizer will do that. I’m Theresa. The funny man is Artie. The rest of us you’ll meet. Let’s get the two of you into rooms and out of those hospital johnnies.”
She led them down the hallway to a storage room which contained several shelves of the yellow sweat-suits, flip-flops in individual plastic baggies, sheets, blankets, and cleaning supplies. She grabbed a sweat-suit for Chase and offered it to him, then did the same for Sonya. “There are three different sizes, but chances are they probably won’t fit either of you. The bigs aren’t big enough, the smalls aren’t small enough, and neither of you is a medium.” She indicated her own rolled up sleeves and pant-legs. “I’m a big small or a short medium, and they don’t fit me either. Underwear’s a different thing. All men’s, all boxers. Guess no one was expecting women.” She eyed Sonya. “No bras.” Sonya shrugged.
“Anything’s better than walking around with my rear-end hanging out,” Sonya said.
Theresa then handed them each a folded, rough wool blanket and a neatly folded set of sheets. “Can’t speak for the thread count on these sheets. There’s a laundry somewhere down here, I guess. Laundry day is every seven days. Bundle sheets and turn in sweats. We don’t do much down here, so that’s usually plenty as far as the sweats go. Spill something on yourself and you can change out, long as the extras hold out. Once they run out, you’re stuck in what you got on.” They stepped back out of the closet and stood in the corridor. Dozens of half-formed questions occurred to Chase, but he would wait.
He looked back down the hallway at the people who were standing around staring at them. “I’m pretty sure Dr. Rogers said there were nineteen immunes here.” He counted. “I only see ten people. Where are the rest?”
Theresa shook her head. “That’s what Beaker said, huh? Well, what you are looking at are the ones still alive enough to care to see the new people come in. The rest are in their rooms, probably just laying on their bunks staring at the ceiling or trying to sleep this nightmare away. Some of them came in pretty damaged, at least upstairs.”
After Everything Else (Book 3): Creeper Revelation Page 17
