After Everything Else (Book 3): Creeper Revelation

by Brett D. Houser

  “He’s healthy. Strong. This is what we need, here,” the doctor said while pulling on a pair of latex gloves. Chase again looked to Koeller and the soldier, but they had backed into the corners of the room. Koeller met his eyes steadily, his expression giving no clue what he might be thinking. The soldier was watching the doctor with a poorly concealed mixture of fear and revulsion showing on his face.

  The doctor reached to touch Chase, and it was all Chase could do not to move away from his outstretched hand. Chase was glad the strange man had put the gloves on. The thought of the man’s bare hands touching him made his skin break out in goosebumps. If the doctor noticed, he didn’t say anything. After a few tests, none of which Chase wasn’t familiar with from all his sports physicals, the doctor opened the case and pulled out a needle and a rack of vials. Chase extended his arm. The doctor jabbed the needle into his arm painfully. He either didn’t have much practice in drawing blood or just didn’t care. Chase decided it was probably a little of both. As he switched out vials, drawing several samples, Chase decided it was time to talk.

  “Dr. Green, why are some people immune and some not? It’s genetic, right?” At first, Chase was afraid the doctor wouldn’t answer, but then he looked up at Chase, a look of surprise plain on his face.

  “He’s curious. There’s a mind here,” he muttered. He looked back down to the full vial hanging from the needle in Chase’s arm and removed it, then removed the needle, placing a cotton ball over the puncture. Without being told, Chase put pressure on the cotton ball and folded his elbow. “Yes, it is genetic,” the doctor said. “A rare strain. Descendants of a woman in Africa. You have heard of Mitochondrial Eve? No? The earliest common female ancestor for all humans living today. She existed after the Neanderthals and Heidelberg man had left Africa, but before the first modern humans had begun their spread across the world.” As he spoke, he carefully placed the vials he had filled with Chase’s blood back into the rack and put the rack back into the case. The needle he left lying on the examination table near Chase’s right hand. “This slight mutation occurred after the first migration as far as I have been able to calculate. It is thought, and I agree, that several migrations took place. This would have been one of the last, I think, but I estimate twenty-seven percent of the population would have been descended from this second woman, again as far as I have been able to calculate. And perhaps not all got the genes necessary.” When he finished, he sat down on a stool near the examination table. He pulled off his gloves, crossed one leg over the other, and laced his fingers together over his knee. “This mutation causes a portion of the population to have an immunoresponse to the fungus. The rest of us do not have this response, so we are subject to the rather dramatic effects of the fungus.” Chase could see he now had the strange little man’s full attention. The pale blue eyes of the doctor were locked onto Chase’s face, and a slight smile played over his mouth.

  “So why keep up the research? Can you find a way to make yourself immune?” Chase asked.

  The doctor chuckled. “Not immune yet, no. The fungus is in many ways similar to the candida strains of fungi, which attack the bloodstream. An exposure to a non-fungal protein causes Immunes to produce antibodies similar to those produced upon exposure to the fungus, but those antibodies, once filtered out and used to create a vaccine and injected into a non-immune are only effective for a short time, a week or two at most. Frequent booster shots would be required. As of yet I have not been successful in producing long term immunity in non-immunes. Thus far, all attempts have failed. I have not been able to trigger an adaptive immunity in B and T cells in either the Immunes or non-immunes.”

  Chase caught the startled look on Koeller’s face. Chase guessed the unnamed soldier didn’t understand the implications because he had no reaction. “So you have the means to send the non-immunes out without protective gear? Why haven’t you done this? Why aren’t you doing this? Why are you still down here?”

  The strange looking doctor appeared to be a little nonplussed. “Where else would I go? I have what I need here for my research. My needs are attended to. I have subjects upon which to experiment. Why would I wish to leave?”

  Chase stared at Dr. Green, who looked back at him steadily in confusion at the question. Chase realized the man was in his element. Why would he want to leave? He was waited on hand and foot by people thinking he would find a cure, a means for them to live in this world without retreating to a cold hole in the ground. But he cared nothing about these people, just about the research, about the science. From the corner of his eye he could see Koeller shaking his head, so Chase looked at the soldier. He had caught on. There was the possibility of leaving this environment and it hadn’t been offered to them. They had lived in fear for months, and there was a way out and no one had been told.

  “You little freak,” the soldier began.

  “Stand down, soldier!” Koeller said firmly.

  “But, Top,” the soldier began.

  “I said stand down, Phillips!” Koeller said, a little louder.

  During this exchange, Dr. Green looked from one face to another with a look of mild interest. He actually believes this has very little to do with him, Chase thought.

  “Top, I respect you, I really do, but this…this…this monster,” the soldier stammered, “You know we lost McMann just last week. Forgot to replace filters in his mask. There was no need!”

  “Out!” ordered Koeller. “Out of the room!” The soldier hesitated, staring at the doctor until Koeller crossed the room and grasped his upper arm, leading him to the door. He pulled the door open and pushed Phillips through ahead of him. Before he stepped through himself, he turned and fixed Chase with a glare. “Don’t move. Thanks to you, I have to do a little damage control.” He focused his attention on Green. “And unless you want some kind of uprising, you will keep discoveries to yourself until you are ready to share them.”

  Koeller stepped into the hallway with the angry Phillips, leaving Chase alone with a confused but mostly indifferent seeming Dr. Green. Chase saw his chance to fish for information. “So…you need immunes like me for your research? What can I do to help?”

  The doctor immediately brightened. “Oh, there is little you can do, but much you do just by being immune. I have, unfortunately, gone through several Immunes trying to get them to produce antibodies which would create longer term immunity in non-immunes.” He stopped and appeared to be considering if he should say more.

  “The ones upstairs? Are they the ones that produce the antibodies for you?” Chase asked.

  “Oh, no,” the doctor chuckled. “They are the weaker ones. We will probably have to use them eventually, though. We have taken the strongest. We keep them separately in another location. But I don’t use them to produce the dead-end antibodies in the method I described. Once I discovered I could produce an antibody with that method, I decided to go after the fungus itself, see if I could produce a longer lasting immunity. Test subjects are exposed to the fungus itself in controlled amounts to produce stronger antibodies. Once I have those antibodies isolated, my hope is to create a vaccine which will be longer lasting.” He looked toward the door and continued in a quieter voice, continued, “Unfortunately, the level to which they are being exposed produces side effects. They take on characteristics of the Subjects. Overexposure eventually causes infection.” Chase thought back to the reverend, the whitening of his eyes. “We don’t understand some of the side effects. They go beyond what science would predict. We keep them restrained. Sedated. Collection of samples has become somewhat dangerous even in controlled conditions. We have lost soldiers, but this is not necessarily a bad thing. This gives me the opportunity to study them as well.” He smiled, chilling Chase. Chase decided it was time to act.

  “Have you inoculated yourself against the fungus?” Chase asked, reaching for his sweatpants.

  “Why would I?” the doctor asked. He watched as Chase put on his pants and reached for the sweatshirt. Chase palmed the
balloons as he pulled the sweatshirt over his head, and then casually reached for the needle.

  He showed the balloon to the doctor and placed the needle alongside it. “I guess that’s true. Why would you? You’re safe down here. But I needed to know. Because that will change the way I proceed, although ultimately it wouldn’t matter, I guess. I have fungus spores in this balloon. If I were to puncture the balloon with this needle, this room would be flooded with the fungus. You would be infected. I don’t think you could stop me from opening this door, either. The soldiers in the hallway would be infected. Eventually, the whole facility would be infected, and you would die anyway, more than likely.” The doctor flushed and then paled. During their entire exchange, the doctor had given the sense of being above this sort of human interaction, but with the mortal threat of exposure in front of him, he had very much changed his behavior. As inhuman as he seemed, his sense of self-preservation was still very strong.

  “How do I know that is what you hold? How did you get it in here?” he stammered.

  “You don’t. But how do you know it’s not what I say? Let’s just say I wasn’t real happy bringing it in like I did. It was pretty disgusting, actually, and a little painful. So what we are going to do is this: you are going to tell Koeller that you have decided to take us down to the immunes producing the antibodies. It would probably be in your best interest if he didn’t know I have this until I’m ready to let him know. I am looking for one particular person. If that person is down there, we take him with us. You can continue your little experiments, and we all live happily ever after.” He moved the needle a little closer to the balloon. “But if things go wrong, don’t believe I won’t expose everyone in the facility to these spores. Once everyone is exposed, we wait until the fungus takes effect. We’ll have a window to get out before you, the other scientists, and the soldiers start walking. I would suggest that if there is any way you can help me get out without that happening, you do it. Nod if you understand me.” The doctor nodded. Chase spoke quickly and explained to the doctor what was going to happen next.

  When Koeller walked back into the room alone, Chase was sitting on the exam table fully dressed. “First Sergeant Koeller,” the doctor said, his voice strained, “I have decided to take this immune down to Containment B immediately.” Chase hoped that Koeller wouldn’t be alarmed at the obvious stress the doctor was feeling.

  “What about the other one?” Koeller asked.

  The doctor looked at Chase. “Yes, her as well. You will accompany us. I do not think the other soldiers will be necessary.”

  Koeller looked wary. “That makes no sense.”

  “I find myself not trusting your soldiers, First Sergeant.”

  “Yeah. Phillips is about a heartbeat away from ending your experiments.” He turned to look at Chase. “And I always have this,” he said, patting the holster at his waist, “not that I’d need it.” Chase thought the man was probably right. He looked to be fit, probably had some hand-to-hand training. “On your feet and into the hallway.”

  Chase walked into the hallway where the two soldiers stood muttering in a corner. He wondered briefly why the soldier wasn’t in the room with Dr. Rogers and Sonya. Then, when Dr. Green emerged from the room just behind Koeller, the soldiers both stared daggers at the man in the lab coat. Koeller stopped and looked at them. “Boys, you two hang out here while the good doctor and I take these two to Containment B. I think we have some talking to do when I get back. Until then you don’t talk to anyone, okay?” The soldiers were surly, but they agreed.

  Dr. Green knocked on the door across the hall. Dr. Rogers stepped out with Sonya following him. She raised her eyebrows at Chase. He nodded once slowly and looked at Dr. Green. He knew she couldn’t understand exactly what was going on from the limited gestures he could give her, but he hoped that she trusted him enough to let events unfold without making any waves. Chase admitted to himself that he didn’t really know how this would turn out, but as scared as he was, he felt things were going well.

  Containment B turned out to be down yet another flight of stairs through a doorway across the hall from the examination rooms and lab. Chase thought someone had told him the facility was only twenty-five feet underground, but this lower level had to be at least fifty or sixty feet down. The walls on the stairwell were older yet than any they had seen, a rough concrete finish that seemed to be decaying in the dampness. Grit scratched on the metal stairs under his feet as he descended ahead of Sonya. Directly behind her Koeller followed and behind him, the doctor. This worried Chase a little. Would the doctor bolt? How would that work out? Could they be isolated down here? Chase had assumed once they were past the safeguards of decontamination that there would be nothing to stop the spread of the spores. What if he were wrong?

  Still, the doctor continued to accompany them. The only thing Chase could think to do was proceed as planned. When they reached the bottom of the stairwell, the doorway to the corridor was already open. Chase stepped out, looking in either direction. Sonya followed him and tried to take his hand. He pulled his hand away from her, showing her the needle. Her eyes widened. Koeller emerged into the corridor, and then Dr. Green. Keeping his eyes on Chase, Koeller spoke.

  “Will they be going into storage or production, Dr. Green?”

  “Well, uh,” Dr. Green stammered, “I suppose….” He stopped. Chase looked at him, meaningfully, but Dr. Green had frozen.

  “I think it’s time to talk about what is really going on here,” Chase said, holding up the balloon and the needle for Koeller to see. “What I have in the balloon is spores.” Koeller’s expression didn’t change, but Chase saw the muscles in his jaw jump. “I’m guessing, and I may be wrong, but I’m guessing that would mean contamination of this entire facility. If I’m wrong, at the very least it means you will be contaminated and Dr. Green will be contaminated.” He stopped to allow this to sink in.

  “What is it you want?” Koeller asked. Chase wondered at his calmness.

  “Several things,” Chase answered. “Not the least of which is to get out of here without puncturing this balloon. I don’t want all these deaths on my conscience.” Chase meant this. “But if you think I won’t do it, you’re wrong. In a world that has seen so much death, I hate to think about killing more. But it’s like losing a lot of money, isn’t it? If I took a million dollars to a casino and lost it all but a quarter, why not just stick that last quarter in a slot machine?”

  “You are a strange young man,” Dr. Green said. Chase could only look at him. He supposed this was behavior the doctor wouldn’t be used to.

  “Okay,” Koeller said. “I get it. But what do you want? If you wanted to kill us, you would have.”

  “First, I want to see everyone you have down here. We’re looking for someone. We’re looking for her dad,” Chase said. “Second, we want to get back up to the immunes without anyone knowing what is happening right here. Then we want out. All who will go. Us, her father, and any immunes will be given a free pass out. Out of here and out of range of being collected again.” A sound of protest from Dr. Green caused Chase to look at him as the strange little man began to flush red. Chase thought, He may be more concerned about having test subjects than he is about possibly dying.

  Chapter 29 – Marilyn

  Something was happening. From her vantage point atop an old, rusted piece of mining equipment Marilyn could see the entrance to the soldiers’ facility clearly in the early morning light, and as of yesterday, traffic had stopped moving in and out. One lone Humvee sat at the entrance, the two soldiers inside rarely coming out. This was so different. On previous days, five or six vehicles would leave in the morning and come in during the evenings, some taking the platform down, others parking vehicles up top and riding down separately. Two days before, five vehicles had come back: the truck with the backhoe, two Humvees, a pick-up, and a bigger truck. The Humvees and the pick-up had disappeared down the elevator, but the bigger truck and the flatbed with the backhoe were st
ill sitting there to the side of the access road. No one had come out the following morning and driven them away. There were just the two trucks, the Humvee, two soldiers, and Marilyn anxiously watching.

  She could barely hear anything, but once in a while, when one of them was outside, there would be a squawk from a radio, a voice. She may have been imagining it, but all of the voices sounded panicked.

  She carefully climbed down the rusty ladder on the side of the huge machine away from the entrance. She had been up here several times, usually moving after dark, but since yesterday she had abandoned those precautions. Something was happening, and she felt she needed to do something to help. The question was what, though. She crouched and ran straight back to the nearby tree line where Honey waited. Together they followed a dim trail back to the falling down tin shack where she had hidden her supplies. She avoided looking at the walls inside the shack, which were adorned with faded and water-streaked pictures from a nudie magazine. “Boys,” she told Honey.

  When she was sure her supplies were okay, she grabbed some jerky and a granola bar and stuffed them in a pocket for later. Then she and Honey set out through the woods, Honey leading the way. The trees around the shack and through this whole area were all second growth, nothing large, but really close together. An overgrown path littered with soda bottles and candy wrappers marked what had been a kids’ trail from the nearest subdivision. Kids were going to be kids. Curious, exploring, finding and building secret bases and camps, creating a world away from the world of adults and school and homework. The trail led to a gap under a ten-foot chain-link fence which separated the scrub brush from a subdivision of cookie-cutter homes. Honey scooted under the fence easily, and Marilyn dropped and rolled under it.