“A true protection against it…yes.”
“Then my Malady can’t be cured?”
“I’m afraid not. But if we rolled out the vaccination to the uninfected, in time, human beings will no longer be the host species for the parasite. Our world can bounce back with wellness by true prevention.”
“So that’s where doctors and scientists have failed,” added Jack. “They’ve been trying to kill Malady in people rather than prevent its infection.”
“Correct. Many doctors believe that if you cure the symptoms, you cure the disease. But that’s just not true when it comes to invasion by a micro-predator. We are cured if we are no longer inhabitable by the parasite. This has been my mantra all along. And the riddle as to ‘how do we get there from here’ was answered by Jameson’s genotype. His blood contains human, Malady and Malad-X genes. And the Malad-X gene is also a combination of human and parasite since Graves used his own Malady offspring to derive it. Jameson’s blood is the perfect DNA cocktail with which to formulate a vaccination.”
“But how will it work?” Jack asked. “I mean, how is it different than the Victory Vaccine?”
“Jameson’s Malady-born gene has allowed his blood to harbor three types of parasitic information. That’s a lot of immunological data. The vaccine will use all of these antigens rather than the single-strain, single protein approach that is currently used in the Victory Vaccine. Should the Malady or Malad-X parasite invade a vaccinated person, the parasite’s chemical signature will be detected by the human immune system as a foreign body and augmented anti-bodies will attack and sicken the parasite, killing it before it reaches the brain cavity.”
“People with Malady will safely live among those without and there will be no worry of spreading the infection!”
“Precisely,” said Albert. “And in time, those who receive this inoculation and conceive children will pass on all of this genetic information to their offspring, generating a new age of mankind that is genetically protected from any parasitic invasion.”
“When we get back to Karma,” Jack said, “I want to write your story.”
“I was hoping you would.”
The group hiked for several hours, stopping only to eat, rest and note their route. The sun rolled back toward the west, sending long shadows stretching from the trees. Snow clung to the hanging boughs and the silence of the woods inspired Jack. He imagined how he and Donna’s lives would improve if the cure became a reality. He became more motivated to save Carmen and stop Graves. His steps quickened over the crunching snow. Donna would love the snow. She’d love to be out here in the quiet, frozen wilderness. Rime’s cold, rocky forest boasted a beauty that Jack wished he could bottle up and bring back to her. When times are good, I’ll take her here for a weekend of hiking and love making by the fire. I’d like that. We’d like that.
Luna stopped the group’s pace at the edge of a ravine. Tall pines and evergreens swayed, sending tufts of icy dust into the air. The base of the ravine inhaled the clouds of ice. Jack squinted as the snow fell onto his face. He looked down and panned the length of the ravine. The gully stretched east and west, parting the forest line and scarring the mountain base. The south slope loomed upward to his right and as he studied the rocky ledges of the crag, he noticed a black line stretching over the trees. “Hey, what’s that line running up the south face?”
Luna peered through her rifle scope. “It’s a cable car system. There’s one like it on the west slope that runs from old Borealis Village to the Rime Mines.”
Jameson brought his hand to his brow to block the wind. “Maybe it still works. If we can get it running, we’ll save a lot of time. This ravine should lead to the station house.”
Lagging behind, Albert stumbled on the trail and his foot caught on an object lodged in the snow. He kicked the round, gray mass and gasped. “A skull.” He stooped and examined the remains. “There are apparent indications of trauma here. This individual died from a severe head injury from behind.”
“How about this one?” Luna pointed her rifle muzzle to another skull lodged on the side of the ravine.
Albert hurried for a closer look. “Same thing. I’m beginning to feel a bit uneasy.”
Jameson looked up the mountain slope. High above, a precipice jutted outward, in line with the location of the remains. “I think these people fell from up there,” he said. He stepped closer to the ravine ledge and peered over the side. At the bottom, strewn among the rocks, lay hundreds of bones and a half dozen rotting corpses. “Jumpers and sacrifices. Let’s be very quiet going forward. Something doesn’t smell right.”
Jameson led the group to the cable car station with soundless steps, carefully parting low-hanging branches with his shotgun. The station house waited a few paces ahead, partially concealed by forest overgrowth and low hanging boughs. Snow covered the sagging roof and the splintered front door knocked against its crooked frame. Jameson nudged the door aside and entered.
The station house reeked of Malady. The floorboards, frozen and old, popped under their steps. Luna switched on her scope’s light to dispel the shadows.
“This place is crawling with the parasite,” warned Jameson.
In the middle of the room, the control switches for the cable engine waited, but a corpse of an old man bent over the panel. Albert inspected the body. He lifted the pant legs and commented on the purple the skin around the calves. “Hypostasis…settled blood in the interstitial tissue. This man’s been dead for a while. And…” he examined the chest, “looks like a wound directly in the heart. The entry point is small and very precise.”
“He was killed.” Jameson spat on the floor. “Arrow.”
Jameson paced the room, playing out the possibilities in his head. One more aspect needed inspection before he offered his theory surrounding the strangeness of the cable car station. He looked out the adjacent window at the station platform. The motorized pulley stood strong. The thick steel cables stretched from the massive wheel hub to the mountain’s heights and a single car rested on buffers. Jameson kicked open the room’s back door and exited onto the platform to inspect the cable car. The others followed. He wiped the snow off the glass panels and peered inside. Clean.
“The cable car is still in use,” he said. “The dead man is the station master. Malady-heads murdered him to claim the cable system and ascend the mountain. They’re up there and they’re killing people for whatever reason their worms have convinced them is worth it.”
Luna locked a loaded magazine into her rifle. “Think this is more of the infected turned by Gemni?”
Jameson shook his head. “Gemni didn’t make it this far. This is something different. Feels like life in the Void Lands again—always finding crazy settlements existing under Malady-warped morals.”
Albert looked up the mountain slope. “I’m fine with waiting here.”
“No,” barked Jameson. “We’ve got to look for Jack’s plane. It may be our last chance at stopping Graves. Let’s get the pulleys turning and go up the mountain.”
“Once we get it running,” added Albert, “whoever’s up there is going to know we’re coming.”
“And they’ll either hide or fight,” said Jameson.
Under the last hues of daylight, Jameson worked at the control box. He switched on the breakers and engaged the master lever on the console. The engine rumbled to life. The cables tensed. The pulley wheels squealed and the car jerked forward, bouncing from the buffers. The group leapt into the moving car. Jameson slid the door closed once all were inside.
The car rocked as the cables lifted it into the air. As they ascended the mountain, the airfield came into view, roosting along a steep plateau. The surface of the plateau served as the runway and its icy edge formed a sharp cliff. A small terminal building and hanger nestled beside the mountain, half-buried in snow. At the far corner of the runway, a cylindrical flight tower reached upward like a column of bone jutting from a frozen grave.
Jack thought the forg
otten airfield, silhouetted by the orange sunset, was depressing— another bleak reminder of humanity’s defeat under the wrath of the Malady parasite. In the cable car window, he saw Corpse-Dad’s ghastly reflection behind him.
“Would yah look at that!” cheered Corpse-Dad. “I used to love having hot cocoa with you in the terminal while the men fueled our plane. As soon as you heard the propeller spinning, you’d be out of your seat and tugging for me to hurry to the strip.” He chuckled warmly and granules of sand puffed from his torn throat.
Jack remembered.
He could almost hear the buzz-saw rumble of the bush plane preparing for take-off. He remembered being little and happy. His floppy winter hat slid down his forehead; he hated to wear it, but Dad said to keep it on until the aircraft cabin warmed up. He remembered watching the way Dad instructed the airmen while the cold wind of Rime blew across the strip, sending breaths of snow spiraling through the blades of the propeller. Dad never shivered and young Jack imagined that it was because in a matter of minutes, Dad would take him over the clouds, to a heaven of warm sunlight and rose-gold cities of clouds.
Luna put a hand on Jack’s shoulder, startling him from his reverie.
“You’re crying, Jack,” she said. “You okay?”
Jack looked for the apparition of his father; there were things he wanted to say to him. Corpse-Dad was gone. Jack wiped his eyes. “Remembering makes me sad, that’s all.”
“I know the feeling. My heart hurts in the mountains, too.” Luna admitted.
“Why?”
Luna looked away.
“Hey, I’m sorry,” said Jack. “You don’t need to talk to me about anything.”
“It’s fine. My family lived in the foothills of Rime, in Borealis. I thought I lost them and I ran away. When I returned years later, the person I’d become ruined any chance I might have had to come home. Ruined it in an unforgivable way.”
“What did you do?”
“I murdered my sister’s husband, right in front of her, while she held her crying newborn.”
Jack blinked, struggling with the imagery. “Did she know it was you?”
“No.”
Jack exhaled in sympathy. “You should be the one crying.”
“Some people cry and some just hurt. You know, I envy the people with Malady who can’t remember anything.”
“You don’t want to trade places, believe me.”
“How do you know I don’t?”
“Because Malady takes your past and haunts you with it. You’re better off having the ability to cope with your feelings. I can’t. They’ve manifested in a disturbing way that I have no control over.”
“I’ve heard you talk to yourself.”
Jack leaned close and whispered. “I talk to the reanimated dead body of my father. He looks like he crawled from his casket and talks to me like I’m ten. Skin hangs from his face, bones jut from his hands. His hair looks like dried grass and his eyes are marbles that roll when he speaks. When he appears, he is as real as you. Now…do you still want to trade places?”
The two stared at one another then Jack burst into a laugh. Luna smiled and gave him a hug. “I like you, Jack. Tell your zombie father I said hello.”
“I call him Corpse-Dad.”
“Right.”
The cable car stopped at a platform adjacent to the old terminal building. Deer hide canvases and green netting covered the terminal’s windows. Rows of burning torches cast orange circles of warm light leading to the main entrance. Strange black banners flapped on wooden masts, each bearing a crude, yellow insignia of a coiled worm with wide, black eyes.
Jameson opened the car door and stepped onto the platform with shotgun in hand. His Malad-X senses detected the stench of Malady emanating from the terminal. Luna exited the car and stood beside Jameson, her finger hovering over her rifle’s trigger. Jameson signaled for Jack and Albert to join them.
Albert wiped snowflakes from his glasses. “Those banners are unsettling.”
“Some type of cult,” said Jameson. He turned his attention to Jack. “Where’s the hanger?”
“It’s through the terminal and across the strip.”
“Looks like we’re going straight in then,” said Jameson, pointing to the terminal’s entrance. “Luna, keep your sights high and out. Archers are a big concern.”
“Enraged Malady infected are a greater concern,” said Brighton.
Jameson ignored the voice in his head and led the group to the terminal. Brighton carried on.
“Look,” said Brighton regretfully, “I’m sorry for my behavior with Luna.”
Jameson took cover against the door frame. The others did the same. He leaned and listened for sounds from within. Only silence.
“I acted on my parasitic instinct of self-preservation. It won’t happen again, Jameson,” Brighton vowed. “I promise.”
Jameson clenched his eyelids and whispered to Jack, who crouched low under the eve of a boarded window. “Hey. Got any Quell?”
Jack reached into the pocket of his coverall. He tossed a small vial to Jameson.
“Don’t, you fool! Don’t make me sleep!”
Jameson’s hand shook as he opened the bottle and poured a pill into his palm. Slowly, he raised his hand to his mouth. Brighton fought with him, tugging his arm down. Jameson overpowered him, but it was like pulling up an invisible anchor. He swallowed the pill and closed his eyes as the Quell immediately coursed through him.
“You’re making…a mistake,” warned Brighton, his voice falling back into a mental fog. “You are…in…danger.”
The Quell wobbled Jameson’s knees. A sudden weight of fatigue crushed him. He slumped back against the doorframe and nearly dropped his weapon.
Albert caught him and shook his shoulders. “Jameson,” he whispered. “I told you that your condition makes you very susceptible to Quell. Why did you take that pill? It’s going to be all you can do to stay awake now!”
“It’s better than the alternative, doc.” Jameson shook his head and straightened. “I’m fine. I can handle it.”
Luna took Jameson’s shotgun. “No, you can’t.”
Jameson’s shoulders crumbled as sleep dragged him down. “My gun!” he slurred. His eyes closed as the Quell dropped him into a deep sleep.
Luna wrapped her arm around his waist and held him up. “Great…just great.”
“What should we do with him?” Jack asked.
“We can’t carry him around,” Luna replied. “And it’s too cold to leave him out here. The only option is the cable car. We’ll secure the area and get the plane running, then come back for him.” Luna labored Jameson over the snow and dropped him back into the car’s bench. “Sorry to leave you like this,” she said to him. “But at least you won’t freeze to death.” She shoved his shotgun into her pack, locked the car door, and returned to Jack and Albert.
“How would you like to proceed, Luna?” asked Albert.
Luna paused to consider what Jameson’s approach would be. The years she spent with him in the wilds of the voids had taught her a great deal. Tactics of survival were always central to their decisions. He’d opt for silent cunning in this place, as she’d seen him execute countless times before. Luna had mastered his teachings and when stealth-minded, she became as soundless as a leopard, and as elusive as a fox.
“We go in unseen and unheard,” she said. “From the cable car, the airfield looked empty which means there’s more to this place than we can see. I’m going to slip inside and have a look. I’ll signal you when it’s clear. Stay out here and keep your ears open.”
Luna moved with the grace of an alley cat and melted with the shadows. She eyed the interior lobby of the terminal with her night-vision scope and found the room empty. She flashed her laser and the others entered.
It became clear to Luna that skilled hunters and trappers had claimed the abandoned airfield. Rolls of fur and hide sat in neat stacks throughout the lobby. Carcasses of deer, rabbit and pheasant h
ung from the rafters, each meticulously skinned and stripped of meat. The entire room stunk of rotting animal scraps and soggy, old fire pits. Large cooking spits stood over crude hearths assembled in the corners of the lobby and several cots and bedrolls lay in groups throughout. Luna noticed iron bear traps, cages and harnesses of all sorts. Her rifle’s light exposed racks of climbing gear, fishing tackle and fletching tools. But where is everyone? Her light fell to a square, wooden hatch in the floor. They’re underground. “Jack,” she whispered. “Does this place have a basement?”
“No. But the door to the strip is just ahead. The hanger is not far.”
“Step lightly, friends.” Luna moved across the room, making less sound than the wintry wind outside.
Chapter 16
The pain in his wrists and ankles woke him. A collar around his neck held him to the wooden table. Jameson tugged at his arms and legs. Shackled. I’ve been captured! He shifted his eyes to examine his prison. The yellow light of a single kerosene lantern hanging from a hook in the corner illuminated the small room. Stone walls and a dirt floor, reinforced by iron beams and a cage door, formed his cell. Where am I? A mine? A cellar?
“You’re under the airfield,” answered Brighton. “The Malady infected trappers took us while the Quell kept us in dreamland.”
“What is this place?”
“From what I’ve gathered while listening to their babble is that the trappers have built a network of tunnels and chambers under the airfield. The resource of the cable car, coupled with the isolation of the mountain airfield, provides them with a safe and commanding little roost.”
“What are they going to do with us?”
“You are a source of sustenance, Jameson. You’ll be harvested.” Brighton sighed, frustrated. “You sure have done it this time, Jameson.”
Jameson pulled hard at his restraints. The binds only tightened. He sighed in frustration, his anger boiling. “What happened to Luna and the others?”
“I didn’t see.”
“You’re lying!”
Karma City Page 21
