by JT Sawyer
We need to get out of here fast before this becomes a deadly chokepoint. He kept low and trotted forward with his Glock extended forward until he crested the edge of the tunnel. Emerging, he glanced to either side then heard the cracking of a branch behind him as another creature leapt from a mound of dirt above the entrance. Reisner pivoted, firing high as two bullets cut through the lower jaw of what looked like a short woman. He saw an amalgam of blood, shattered teeth, and wriggling parasites spill forth from the gaping mouth, then he sent one round into the forehead, causing the creature to roll backwards down the dirt hill.
Santos emerged, thrusting his hand out beyond Reisner towards a thick tangle of low shrubs in the distance where four more creatures had just darted away. Reisner saw the leader in amongst them, his shrill voice evident above the din of the others. A second later, he disappeared into the underbrush.
“Dammit,” Reisner said, springing to his feet. “Santos, follow me.” The two men sprinted past the edge of the encampment and picked up the sandy trail of the others. Reisner could see the tall figure ahead, weaving in and out of the trees as he kept prodding the others to move. It scooped up one of the smaller creatures that resembled a small boy and then continued trotting. It’s being protective of its own.
He paused to steady his rifle, then saw the entire party descend as the trail dipped. Reisner motioned to Santos to move alongside him and sweep to his right while he covered the left. He didn’t know if the creatures would keep running or wait in ambush ahead of them.
As they approached the downslope, he raised his fist for Santos to stop, then he strained his ears, listening for the distinctive shrill sound from earlier. Reisner took a step forward, then another, his AR focused on the dense jungle trail. Arriving at the dip, he saw four of the creatures standing below, aimlessly milling in circles. By the time he heard the high-pitched sound behind him it was too late; the creature lunged at his face with its immense hands. Santos turned to fire but only got off a round into the creature’s left shoulder. It groaned and shoved him down the hill into the greedy clutches of the mob below. Reisner’s AR was jammed against his body as the wounded beast grabbed him with both hands. He could smell a disgusting moldy odor emanating from beyond the gnashing teeth.
Reisner heard the screams of Santos behind him, then felt himself being lifted off the ground and slammed into the tree trunk behind him. He slumped to the ground, unsure whether his ribs were broken. Damn, this thing has the strength of five men.
As the creature moved in to bite him on the neck, he pivoted his hips and sent a savage kick into the side of the right knee, causing the beast to crumple to the ground. Reisner scooted forward, sending a side kick into the throat then shuffling back and removing his Glock. He fired two rounds into the lower jaw, remembering through his haze to spare its head. The creature fell back, writhing in agony, its shrill voice quickly drowning in liquid from the grievous wound. Reisner saw movement to his right as the four creatures from below scrambled up the hill towards him, their faces covered in a frothy pudding of worms and blood. He spun and dropped two of them with headshots, then observed the remaining creatures’ skulls splinter apart from gunfire to his rear.
He turned and saw Nash and Connelly approaching, then he did a 360-degree inspection of the jungle to search for any more movement. He leaned one hand against a tree, trying to catch his breath and feeling his injured ribs struggle to keep up. Below, he saw the mangled corpse of Santos, his face barely recognizable amidst an array of shredded limbs. Dammit, brother.
“You, OK, boss?” said Nash.
He gave a faint nod, then leaned forward to retrieve his rifle off the ground. Reisner moved back towards the large beast he had fought and noticed it was still wriggling, trying to move its head and limbs. He removed his fixed blade and straddled the creature. Pulling his shirt sleeves over his gloves, he drove the knife down along the throat, severing muscles, then grunting as he wrestled it through the vertebrae.
When he had finished, he flung the knife in the dirt and watched the beast take its last smothered gasp. “Let’s make sure this entire thing gets bagged up and taken back.”
He saw Ivins and two of his men jog up. The SEAL commander glanced at the severed head and then up at Reisner. “Shit—no holds barred, eh?”
“That about sums it up.”
“We got the rest of ’em,” said Ivins. “Seems like the last bunch of stragglers in the jungle just lost their bearings and were wandering in circles—maybe because you whacked this one.”
Reisner looked down at the beheaded corpse and wondered what kind of ghastly world they were living in now. He heard Porter’s voice come over his earpiece, indicating they had located Hayes’ laboratory and would call McKenzie to send in the decon teams.
“Looks like this was worth it after all,” said Ivins. “Hopefully a lot of good will come of it.”
Reisner looked below again at what was left of Santos. “I hope you’re right.”
He took a step forward, the pain from his ribs causing him to cough. Connelly came up alongside him and placed an arm around his shoulder as he walked.
“I’m good, thanks,” he said, waving her off while coughing again.
She kept her arm fixed on him. “It’s no problem, boss.”
“Seriously, I’ll be fine. I’ll have Selene look at it when I get back.”
Connelly yanked her arm back, almost causing him to teeter sideways, then she stomped down the trail.
“What the hell is with her lately?” said Reisner to Nash, who was just shaking his head and grinning.
“You know how to navigate through the jungle and kick ass on the battlefield but you sure don’t know shit about women. No wonder you ain’t never been married.”
Reisner stopped and pressed a hand against his right side. “I don’t know what the hell you’re talking about but I’d sure like to get off this rock.”
“Exactly—on both accounts.”
Chapter 51
When the Chinooks returned to the Reagan, Selene was waiting on deck and trotted out to meet the group along with McKenzie.
“Good job, men,” said McKenzie to both teams as they approached. “My condolences for the loss of Santos,” he said to Reisner as he extended a hand.
“Thank you, sir.” Reisner pointed with his thumb over his shoulder, then looked at Selene. “The decon crew will be bringing you back a nice package along with Hayes’ research materials.”
She nodded, then moved closer to him, pointing to a small gash on his forehead. “Need me to look at that for you?” Selene knew it wasn’t a serious injury but she just wanted an excuse to talk with him, grateful that he was back.
Reisner saw Connelly walking by, her posture rigid and her gaze ahead unflinching. “I’ll take care of it, but I appreciate the offer.”
“Glad you made it back safely,” she said, then cleared her throat. “I mean, all of you. It sounds like Doctor Tso and I will have our hands full for some time.”
“There are some questions I have for you—we all do—about things we witnessed on the island. It might be good if we all debriefed later with the admiral.”
“Sure.” She walked alongside him as they moved towards the steps leading to the second level. “Will, I…” She hesitated.
He saw Connelly unloading her pack in the distance. “Can you excuse me for a second? Just hang on, OK?”
She saw Reisner stop Connelly as the two exchanged words that she couldn’t make out. It ended with her smiling and Reisner stepping forward to give her a partial hug. It was the first time she’d seen Connelly smile. Selene felt her shoulders slump and then pulled her eyes away, walking up the steps alone.
Chapter 52
The next day, Reisner, McKenzie, and Ivins stood outside the observation room of the newly completed laboratory on the second level near the rear deck. Selene had just exited the decontamination chamber. A few minutes later she emerged, toweling off her hair and adjusting her baggy blue scrubs and clogs.
>
She moved towards the men, who were staring at the dissected carcass of the creature Reisner had brought back. Tso was still inside the lab, examining the cranium, which he was measuring with calipers. The organs had all been removed and placed in individually labeled containers filled with formalin.
“Looking at the insides of these things never gets easier,” said Ivins. “You’ve got a cast-iron stomach, Doc.”
“Frankly, the anatomical features of this one were radically different than the others. The cerebellum and pituitary gland were double the size of what should be present in a normal human.”
“So, you think that’s why this one could control the others or at least direct them?” said Reisner.
“Possibly. I’ll know more after Doctor Tso has completed his analysis of the brain and I sift through the volumes of notes that Hayes had on the virus. What I can tell you is that this one had fewer parasites in its body than the ones that were dissected in Taipei, but they were much larger in nature—like a foot long to be more exact, with well-developed antennae. That may account for the body of this one retaining more of its fine motor skills.”
“Could that be why it seemed like it was able to command the others?” said Reisner.
Selene’s eyes darted up at the ceiling. “Maybe. I just don’t know yet at this stage. It would sure be helpful to observe a creature like this interacting with the less developed one—I mean under clinical conditions, where I could see how the parasites interact.”
Ivins and Reisner gave each other uneasy looks. “Sounds like a fun mission,” said Ivins with a smirk. “Let’s go lasso some ‘paras’ and load ’em onto the helos in crates.”
“‘Paras’—is that what you’re calling them?” said Selene.
“Oh, a couple of the guys on my team used that term a while back,” said Ivins.
McKenzie was glancing through the observation window at the neatly dissected remains of the creature. “Anything else we need to know?”
Selene nodded, then pointed to several vials of blood beside a microscope near Tso. “Tissue and bone marrow analysis also revealed that this was an individual who had a rare genetic blood disorder.”
She moved to the whiteboard on the wall and grabbed a blue marker, writing the words, Polycythemia Vera.
“This is a very rare blood cancer, usually affecting people over sixty years of age. It causes your marrow to make too many red blood cells. In simple terms, you have thicker than normal blood. It’s caused by a gene called JAK2 that doesn’t function properly, thus preventing the marrow from controlling the creation of red blood cells.”
“How could something that was potentially terminal be an advantage to the parasites?” said McKenzie. “I mean, shouldn’t this be the least likely candidate for being a leader?”
“PV isn’t necessarily a life-threatening illness. Some people just take aspirin to prevent the platelets from sticking and manage it themselves while others, who have more serious issues, have to take interferon to help the body cut back on making red blood cells.”
She tossed the dry-erase pen on the table. “Now, the interesting thing is that I examined the medical histories of patients from the U.S. which were recorded by the CDC before we lost touch with them.” She paused for a moment, pushing away the thought that they’d lost contact with the Atlanta office several days ago.
“I correlated their blood types with the physical capabilities that were videotaped after they reanimated. Those exhibiting the slower, drone-like behavior were Blood Type A while those who were faster-moving were Blood Type O.” She looked over at Ivins. “And the human remains you brought back that were found in that pile of carcasses—they were all Blood Type B, oddly enough. Those individuals must not have been compatible hosts for some reason.” She stepped forward, folding her arms. “I believe the unique blood type or, in the case of the lead creature from the island which had a higher than normal red blood cell count, determines their role after death.”
“That would explain to some degree the level of organization we witnessed on the island,” said Ivins. “Although I still don’t get why they were building that log wall around the compound.”
“That is interesting,” she said. “And not something I have a clue about.” Selene turned around and drew the bodies of three types of insects, each larger than the next.
“From what I’ve observed and from reports around the world, these creatures share similarities with termite colonies. Now, the oribatid mites are not that sophisticated, but the avian flu they had spliced into their cell structure must have caused the Bertiella parasites on them to fuse their genetic material with the mites, thus forming a more sophisticated insect which could then flourish inside their human host.”
She tapped the marker on the first drawing. “In termite society, you have the Reproductives at the top. This would mean the king, queen, swarmers, and secondary reproductives. When life is good, the queen produces more swarmers that then venture out on their own to begin new colonies. The Reproductive caste might correspond with the intelligent creature you brought back. Or there could be more variations on him—I’m not sure.”
Reisner shook his head, leaning back on the table. “This is starting to sound like one of those black-and-white sci-fi movies about giant bugs.”
“Fortunately for us, there’s no radiation involved in my story,” she said, then pointed to the middle drawing, which was a slightly smaller version of the Reproductives. “Next are the Soldiers. Their sole function is to defend the colony from invaders.”
“Like the fast ones that move like a pack of wolves,” said Ivins.
Selene circled the third figure. “Lastly, we have the Workers. They are pretty mindless and feed the others while staying on the lookout for more food—these are the slower-moving creatures we’ve all seen on the streets. They rely on sheer numbers to overtake their enemies and are the primary means of spreading infection.”
Reisner panned his head around and scrutinized the disemboweled corpse on the steel table, recalling the grisly battle and how brutal and strong the creature had been.
“So, statistically, how many people in the human population, as it was a few days ago before all this, would have suffered from this…” he glanced at the whiteboard “…Polycythemia Vera thing?”
Selene retrieved the marker and returned to the board. “The last figure I recall hearing for the world population was around 7.5 billion people. Polycythemia Vera afflicts roughly two people out of a hundred thousand.” She frantically scribbled numbers on the board, then mumbled the calculations. Selene was standing close enough to the whiteboard that the others couldn’t see the final number until she stepped back. She thought they had all vanished, given their silence.
150,000 infected with PV, assuming 100% infection rate.
When she turned around, she saw Reisner’s eyes filling his face while Ivins shook his head and McKenzie just stared at the whiteboard.
“I’m afraid that there are many more of those high-functioning creatures out there.”
“It looks like the battle has just begun,” said Reisner in a low voice as he pressed a hand to his aching ribs.
***
After the briefing, McKenzie and Ivins left to attend to other matters. Reisner was erasing the whiteboard, hoping he could wash away the memory of the past few days just as easily, when Selene moved up and sat on the edge of the table next to him. He glanced over and noticed how her wet blonde hair was draped over her soft shoulders. For a moment, he saw the woman instead of the doctor and wondered what their encounter would have been like a week ago, before the world went to hell.
“So what happens now?” she said. “I mean, to you and your team?”
“I’m not sure, to be honest. I haven’t heard from anyone at the Agency. When we do head back to the States, we will most likely make our way to Hawaii first. McKenzie indicated that portions of Pearl Harbor are still intact. That would make it the nearest maritime base in the Pacific
since the naval ports in Guam were overrun.” He ran his hand over his head. “I sure wouldn’t mind getting back to Virginia though. I’ve got a kid sister there—at least I hope she’s still there. Her name’s Jody. She’s a school teacher—or was.”
He didn’t know why he was telling Selene this. It went against his nature to share personal details, especially something about his family that could be used against him in his line of work. But in this moment he felt a sense of calm from being around her, despite their rocky beginning back in Taipei. He momentarily forgot about the darkness overtaking the world when he looked at her.
“Another Reisner,” she chuckled. “Oh, Lord, two is probably all this world can handle.”
“Look who’s talking—the woman whom everyone needs to wear a hard hat around in case they suddenly awaken Hurricane Selene.”
She lightly punched him in the arm. “What the hell does that mean?”
“It means you have a lot of…” He paused, staring up at the ceiling as he thought. “Shall we say, attitude about you when you want something.”
“Is that right?” Selene stood up with her hands on her hips as a slow smile crept out. “Then it must be like seeing yourself in the mirror.”
Reisner moved closer to her, his hands nearly touching hers. “See, this is what I’m talking about. You’re always so obstinate.”
“I can be persuaded with the right incentive.”
“Really, that sounds like a challenge.”
She rolled her eyes back slightly then tilted her chin down. “And what about Agent Connelly—is she another challenge for you?”
“It’s not like that. She’s one of my field operatives and nothing more.”
She moved her right arm towards his, letting her fingers brush across his hand. “Does she know that?”
“I’m still sorting through some things with her.” As he took a step closer, the sound of a high-pitched squeal came from his right. They both glanced over at the lab, where Tso had just activated a mini rotary saw and was cutting through a section of the cranium. The sound blared through the speaker as bone dust flitted through the air around Tso.
