The Variant Effect

by G. Wells Taylor

  "Good God! Mao, lock the door," she said, turning to Hyde. "It's impossible. He's in his sixties."

  "Age is inconsequential to the effect, really," Hyde said matter-of-factly. "The Variant Effect enhances strength, reaction time and physical capabilities." He chuckled when the Biter started another attack on its bindings. Its snarls were amplified to a roar by the vinyl cocoon. "Elderly Biters are prone to bone-breaks, heart attacks and poor eyesight, among other things. But until those deficiencies present they are just as dangerous as younger Biters."

  "But howÖ" Cavalle stood by Mao, jaw dropped in disbelief.

  Hyde heard footsteps and curious gasps as the squad formed up ranks around him to watch.

  "SSSKIN!" the creature howled, as it drove its fingers against the vinyl and tore a hole.

  "Adrenaline. Endorphins. The limbic storm creates a cascade of brain chemicals that increases strength," Hyde lectured as he watched the thing worm its free arm, shoulder and head out of the bag. The skin around the wound on the old man's face had wedged in its bindings and against the vinyl. As it pushed free of the bag, the skin started to peel off its head.

  Hyde almost laughed when a shudder of revulsion moved through the squad.

  "The Variant Effect increases muscular power and diminishes the capacity to feel pain or limitation. It ramps up the survival imperative and attendant senses." Hyde refrained from chuckling. "He might be able to smell us even now."

  The Biter wriggled halfway out of the capture bag and dropped off the gurney with a thud. Then the creature was on its feet, one leg still wrapped in restraints and vinyl.

  "SKIN!" it roared and charged the polycarbonate wall. There was a loud BANG and the creature fell back on the floor where it panted, poised on hands and knees.

  The squad had stepped away during the attack. Quickly recovering their composure, they shifted back into place, studying the bloody smear on the transparent wall.

  "That doctor," Hyde said turning to Cavalle, "is why your experienced specialists are watching from Metro."

  CHAPTER 44

  Borland's guts felt like he'd swallowed a bag of dirty nails. He wanted to sleep it off but Aggie denied him. Mofo and Beachboy were allowed to catch some shuteye in T-2 because they were just little boys, but big bad Borland was going to be punished. Spiko volunteered to help him sober up with coffee and a shower, but Borland only agreed to coffee.

  Since then, Spiko had been feeding him hot black cups of it to replace each one he threw up. They walked around the open door of the warehouse to let the cool afternoon air work into his system. After an hour of that he'd finally managed to keep a cup down and he realized that he'd just been drinking too fast. The whiskey on top of the beer didn't get a chance to metabolize before he'd painted the floor with it. He wasn't as drunk as he wanted to be.

  Spiko seemed agitated, kept trying to talk, but Borland found he could shut him up by faking a retch or gag-that often led to the real thing. He didn't want to talk to Spiko. The veteran's nurse-maiding him was humiliating enough.

  Aggie had growled a few threats while Borland was still in a swoon so he couldn't remember if he was fired. The fact that she didn't have him escorted off the base meant she could only discharge him with Brass' approval, or there was no longer anywhere to send him. The roadblocks would be in place. Aggie might be stuck with him.

  Borland finally felt steady enough to rejoin the others. He used T-1's hotbox to wash his face and gargle, and then he moved toward the Biter cage.

  He got there just as Hyde was bitching about body count. Then the thing clawed its way out of the bag.

  There were two more cages farther on. A privacy screen was set up between each, but those weren't massive enough to completely hide the next cage. Borland could see a terrified woman peeking out of the closest, just 20 feet from the Biter. For the time being she looked sane enough. A man in a peaked cap stood outside it. He wore a dark blue jacket and brown pants. A nightstick hung from his gun belt.

  That had to be the Sheriff and the woman in the tank: the first-infector's wife.

  The Sheriff raised a hand to silence Mrs. Morrison, and they both watched Borland approach the gathering by the Biter cage.

  Borland was sober enough to blunder into the conversation without shame, but drunk enough to weave a bit as he walked. Spiko did what he could to steer him on a straight course.

  "You!" the Sheriff barked, pointing at Borland. He marched toward them where they'd stopped by Hyde's wheelchair.

  "Still making friends, Borland?" the old cripple rasped.

  "Go to hell, RawhideÖ" Borland snarled, his tongue a numb rubber paddle.

  "Who's really in charge here?" The Sheriff's voice trailed off as his eyes shifted from Borland, past the blood-stained polycarb wall to the Biter crouched inside. "What in the Jesus!"

  "I'm in charge," Aggie said from the crowd of squad jumpsuits. "Captain Borland, this is Sheriff Marley."

  "So that's reallyÖis that?" The Sheriff's voice trailed off as he stepped back from the cell. "Variant?"

  "SsskinÖ" the Biter hissed, voice carried by the audio link, before it scurried under the gurney. Its single naked eye watched them from shadow. The other eye had been trapped in the ruin of skin that had peeled off its head, stretching the optic nerve into a thin pale band running under its left temple.

  Borland frowned and offered the Sheriff a hand. The man was in his late thirties. Broad cheekbones and tea-colored skin said he had Asian or native in him. Heavy eyelids too, but the straight arched nose said there was a horny European in the mix. Marley's attention shifted from the Biter to the stained bandages Borland extended in greeting. He scowled, sniffed the air and must have smelled booze or vomit. He didn't shake.

  "I want to know why Mrs. Morrison is being held," Marley snarled. "Captain Dambe asked me to bring her out for questioning not incarceration. I was led to believe it was a military matter and I find a Variant Squad." He watched Cavalle pull her vinyl hood off. He turned to Aggie, then back to Borland. "This man's drunk."

  "You might not want to talk down your nose to this one, Sheriff," Spiko said, patting Borland's shoulder as he stepped forward to point at the Biter. "Especially if this turns out to be what we think it is." He turned and clenched his scarred features in a scowl. "We'll need every trick old Crankenstein's got up his sleeve." He gestured at Borland.

  "Crankenstein?" Zombie perked up where he stood between Lazlo and Cutter.

  "That's what we called anybody that could crank himself almost dead, and then crank himself back alive for duty..." He suddenly laughed. "Of course, we rarely called anybody else that, eh Borland?"

  Borland grunted, then spat on the floor.

  Dr. Cavalle hissed-disgusted.

  "Yeah, cause if that's what we're all thinking it is..." Spiko's eyes glared at the Biter before his gaze shifted inward. "Then we'll each of us need a little something. A buffer against it."

  "That was never established as an effective defense," Cavalle explained. "And cranking was rumored to protect you from the Varion molecules at work in your own system to keep them from spontaneously presenting." She cleared her throat. "This was transferred carrier to host."

  "We cranked for a lot of reasons," Spiko laughed, walking gingerly back to catch Borland's eye. "And we all saw baggies get bit. Christ, I got bit. Not all of us turned." He shrugged. "There's no proof that cranking didn't give some protection."

  "Sophistry!" Hyde hissed over his shoulder. "Any excuse to indulge destructive personalitiesÖ"

  "That's enough!" Aggie marched over to Spiko and pointed a finger at his face. "I will not allow this squad to crank before we've even established what is going on." She showed her teeth. "Borland's out of line."

  Even in his numbed and heated state, Borland could feel the potential for battle between the pair. For one brief moment Spiko seemed to swell with violence, to grow malignant, before he laughed and with the sound reduced himself to human-size again.

  "Sure Capt
ain Dambe," Spiko said and nodded, before he could resist. "See if you can get that across to old Crankenstein there."

  "I won't have to." She turned to glare at Borland. He flinched but held his ground. "The Captain is causing a disruption just as he did back in the day." She cleared her throat. "It is a disruption that I am about to eject from the mission following his debriefing."

  Borland straightened, tried to clear his throat but gagged. When Aggie smirked derisively he contemplated snapping to sarcastic attention and saluting; but his aching hernias discouraged him. Instead he gathered his strength to growl.

  "Have all you smart asses been keeping count?" Borland's stomach constricted, tightened his throat. "Do you see what's going on, or are you just here to kick holes in Borland?"

  "We were beginning our investigation," Dr. Cavalle said, her expression showing complete disdain.

  "Well, hop to it, honey..." Borland slapped the back of Hyde's chair and got a sputtering hiss from under the hood. "And start counting bodies, because Hyde here ain't just another ugly face. He's right." He cleared his throat before continuing. "If we don't start finding dead people, it means that everybody turns." He felt a wave of dizziness, so he leaned heavily on Hyde's chair. "Cause then that's the end for us."

  CHAPTER 45

  "Excuse me?" A woman's voice, muffled, came from the left. "PleaseÖ"

  Mrs. Morrison had taken advantage of the awkward silence that followed Borland's apocalyptic statement to slide the question across, and then: "Is that what happened to Scott?" The improperly secured blind had let her see the worst.

  Sheriff Marley snapped, "Let her out of there!"

  And then Mrs. Morrison seemed to get it because she asked: "Is that going to happen to me?"

  "No," Sheriff Marley stated reassuringly, smiling at her cell before turning to glare at Aggie. "You're in charge. Get her out of there."

  "Can't allow that, sir," said Aggie.

  "She'll have to be patient," Dr. Cavalle consoled. "You'll both have to be patient. She must be tested."

  "The hell with that," Marley scoffed, swung his gaze back to Aggie. "I brought her in here for questioning. I trusted your authority." He turned and took an impotent step toward the cell where Mrs. Morrison wrung her hands. Her eyes bulged, but her gaze was inward searching for Variant, waiting for the monster to present.

  "It's for her own good," Dr. Cavalle explained, her voice rising. "For the public good. If the worst is happening. If she's been exposed or infected, it's possible that something can be done for her. There have been developments since the day."

  "Developments?" Marley swung around. "Infected? It's not a disease. Everything I read about this says it came on after long exposure to the Variant drug, and there were environmental factors but it's been off the market for decades."

  "It's still in the environment, and it's in the population," Cavalle insisted. "We might be seeing a spontaneous recurrence in the first-infector triggered by environmental factors. Not sure what else could have started it. The Variant Effect, especially the skin-eating presentation, also appeared after contact with infected or 'presenting' body fluid from a host. That body fluid triggered latent Varion in the victim that brought on any number of possible effects. Dermatophagia was just one of them. How that method of transfer might re-start is a chicken and egg argument. It's clear from the old man that this process is active."

  The Sheriff turned to the Biter. "His name's Don Stanford."

  "I understand that this is difficult, Sheriff Marley." Dr. Cavalle stepped up, set a hand on his forearm. "I was just a kid back in the day too."

  "Look!" Borland took a heavy step forward and pounded on the polycarb wall. The Biter hissed.

  "We don't have time for this!" He reached out recklessly and grabbed the Sheriff's jacket, used his bulk to push the man against the transparent wall. "Do you need more proof than that?"

  The Biter hissed. Light glistened off exposed muscle and veins as it shrank into shadow.

  "Get your hands off me!" Marley twisted against Borland's weight, his cheek squeaked on the plastic.

  And the Biter attacked with a BANG! It moved fast, leapt out from under the gurney and hit the wall near Marley's face. Its own features, torn and twisted from escaping its restraints, had peeled off over the back of its skull and hung around its neck like a ghoulish collar. The Biter's dental work scratched at the cell wall, its nails screeched over the surface.

  "Ssskin!"

  Marley shrieked.

  "Borland!" Aggie and Spiko grabbed his shoulders and heaved him back.

  The Sheriff fell away from the wall, crab-walked a couple yards back.

  "Sheriff, this is really happening!" Borland shrugged off the restraining hands. His temples hammered. "Get in front of it before it gets on top of you."

  "Sheriff, I apologize for Captain Borland," Dr. Cavalle said as she and the bagged-girl Lilith helped Marley to his feet.

  The Sheriff couldn't take his eyes off the cell. The Biter continued to thump against the plastic, streaked now with body fluids and blood. Its thick tongue slipped past twitching lip muscle and licked at the clear surface.

  "Ssskin?" it pleaded.

  "Jesus, Don!" Marley blurted and then gagged on vomit.

  Dr. Cavalle patted his back.

  "We don't have time for tests," Borland shouted. "Variant doesn't follow procedure. It won't care about authority."

  Marley nodded his head while he retched.

  "Aggie," Borland whispered hoarsely, catching her eye. "You know what that is. We gotta do something!"

  Hyde turned his wheelchair from the Biter's gruesome activities. The creature froze and watched him roll away.

  "Borland is correct," Hyde rasped, wheeling up to Cavalle.

  Marley looked over, caught the overhead light gleaming on Hyde's scarred and glistening jawbone. Must have been the first time he'd seen him becauseÖ

  "God!" He shook off Cavalle's hands. "It's aÖit's!"

  The baggies that gathered behind the Sheriff held him securely. The veteran Lazlo cooed something wise and calming.

  "That's Captain Hyde," Aggie growled. "He's a decorated Variant Squad officer. Injured in the line of dutyÖ"

  "Injured?" Marley gaped, but something in the firm grip that held him shut his mouth. The squad was already acknowledging a brotherhood.

  Hyde shrank back under his hood.

  "As I was saying," he croaked. "Borland is correct." He chuckled. "More discussion about what this is would waste valuable time. Brass must be contacted." He sensed Cavalle's challenge. "Doctor, indeed we will need to study this medically and scientifically; but that cannot delay the obvious conclusion or the decisions that must be made now."

  There was a sudden, hard ripping sound and a splash and spray of fluids.

  Everyone looked toward the cell. The Biter, having peeled up a tag of skin below its wrist, was pulling and tugging at it until the dermis peeled upward over the back of its hand and came free in a jiggling patch. Blood spattered its chest and shirt.

  The Biter's eye rolled back. Its body shook with ecstasy as it snapped the skin into its jaws and chewed bloodily.

  "SkinÖ" it said softly, passionately. "Ssskin."

  Hyde watched this and shuddered.

  "We got to get moving," Borland snarled. "Or we'll all end up like that thing."

  CHAPTER 46

  "I am not resisting the obvious conclusion, but we gotta remember that the primary reason for a Sneak is to avoid panic," Aggie said, after a moment's consideration. "And as much as I agree with you, until I have orders to drop the Sneak I will maintain it."

  Borland started to speak but Aggie lifted a hand.

  "There's a lot we need to know. I'll arrange a conference with HQ to discuss the findings. We know it's the Variant Effect, but we need authority to begin applying the protocols. And this isn't the day. Back then, we found it on every front. Now, it is about containment and recovery. We can stop it here. The majority of the populat
ion needs our protection." Aggie looked at the assembled squad members. "It is our duty to do what we can to minimize damage by encouraging the citizens of Parkerville to remain indoors, seek a safe room-hole up with a radio until this is over. I believe Wizard can access the telephone grid that serves the area." She looked up at Marley. "I'll need your assistance with that. Lend your credibility to the message."

  Borland followed a stiff salt-and-pepper brush-cut moving through the gathered baggies until Colonel Hazen stepped out of the crowd. He nodded to the officers and then glared into the cell. The Biter had torn another strip of skin off its forearm and was chewing it gleefully.

  Colonel Hazen turned to Aggie. "I've got some fellows gone AWOL."

  She looked at him a second, one of her shoulders dropped like she was going to deck him. Then Borland realized that was as close to defeat as he'd ever seen her.

  "How many?" Aggie asked.

  "Five," Hazen said. "Corporal Miles Oates is getting married. He was out with his best man and ushers last Saturday-getting drunk off base. They were due back at midnight." He shrugged. "It's a serious breach, but the five in question are reserve soldiers. Things always come up with reservists. We couldn't reach them at their homes in Metro." He looked at his hands. "I was going to give them hell when they got back."

  "Serious," Borland growled, afraid to do the math.

  "Why didn't you call me?" the Sheriff asked, fists on hips. He was struggling to get his bearings in the new madness.

  "It's a military matter, isn't it, Colonel Hazen?" Hyde lisped rolled his wheelchair between the men. "That's how it starts. They're reservists. One day late, boys will be boys. Two days and someone's catching hell. Three, and you're going to kick their asses. Four, and now you're thinking you should have done something sooner. Five, and you hear about a Variant Squad coming to town."

  Colonel Hazen sagged and nodded his head weakly.