“They look marvelous, Myrtle,” Mr. Rothstein said with open appreciation. “What an unexpected treat after the nightmare we’ve endured.”
In response, she smirked and stuffed her mouth with bite-sized chunks of meat. “Aren’t you glad I joined your little rag-tag group of misfits?”
Sure, they were grateful for the meal, but glad that she had practically foisted herself on them while brandishing a handgun, albeit an empty one? Not in this lifetime.
Mr. Rothstein flashed a quick smile and changed the subject. “Let’s eat, shall we? Trey, would you like me to cut the steak into smaller pieces?”
“He’s fine,” Mike said. “I’m sure Trey can handle a knife and fork. Right, buddy?” The boy was twelve, not five. It was high time he was treated according to his age, prodigy or not.
Trey blinked behind his thick glasses. “Do not patronize me, Michael. Unlike you, I can perform intellectual feats that would leave most people stumped for weeks.”
“Touché,” Mike said, grinning. Pointing at the steak, he added, “Eat up, little bud. We’ll need the strength.”
It turned out to be the wrong thing to say. Myrtle straightened in her seat, her cutlery clattering on the table. “For what?” she demanded, grease dripping down her chin. “Why do we need strength before bedtime?” Her eyes narrowed in suspicion. “You’re thinking of some perverted nonsense, aren’t you? Well, I’ve got my eye on you, pretty boy! Tran will stay with me tonight –”
“My name is Trey –”
“ – so don’t even think about it, you hear? I’m warning you –”
“Myrtle, please!” Mr. Rothstein begged, joining in the fray. “Now isn’t the time for such preposterous accusations!”
Is there ever a correct time for such preposterous accusations? Mike wanted to shout back, his blood pressure rising.
As they spoke over each other, their voices growing more impassioned, Mike cut up his steak and chewed in silent resignation. He was eating steak for the first time in years, but there was no doubt in his mind that it was going to give him severe indigestion for the rest of the night. Heck, at this rate, he might even swear off steak from this day on.
The woman giveth, and the woman taketh away.
Thanks for the meal, Myrtle, he thought, swallowing the well-done steak with bitterness. Thanks a whole fricking lot.
* * *
After the unpleasant dinner, Mike trudged along the corridors on the second floor, rubbing his abdomen slowly. He entered the offices and rummaged through the unlocked drawers, hoping to find a box of antacid tablets. To his immense relief, the second office was a veritable gold mine – acetaminophen, antacids, nasal sprays, hydrocortisone creams … whoever the previous occupant was, he or she must have been a hypochondriac or the sickly type.
“Hope you don’t mind if I raid your stash,” Mike murmured, helping himself to all the medicinal goodies spread out before him. “It’s not like you’ll need them now, anyway.”
Swallowing the antacid tablets dry, he leaned against the sleek rosewood table and took a moment to appreciate the silence. Ever since the outbreak, he’d barely had time to think. Every second had been about pure survival and self-preservation, and making sure he and his fellow companions made it safely to the next day.
With a heavy sigh, he glanced out the window and caught his ghostly reflection staring back at him. Once again, his gaze was drawn to the spotless place on his cheek, where there should have been a deep scratch scabbing over. Under normal circumstances, anyway. But he was no longer normal, and it was anyone’s guess what other surprises were in store for him.
What have you done to me, Miriam Rothstein? To us?
As if on cue, there was a polite clearing of the throat, and Mr. Rothstein strode through the doorway, holding a tablet in his trembling hands.
“I found this in my daughter’s office,” he began, seeming nervous and almost afraid. “It appears she left some videos, all of them specifically addressed to me.” A breathy pause, then he spoke again, his voice down to a whisper. “If it’s all right with you, Mike, may we watch them together?”
“Are you sure? Seems like these videos are meant for your eyes and ears only.”
The pianist shook his head. “Rather than have the information relayed to you at a later time, it’s better that you hear it direct from the source.” Groaning softly, he leaned against the desk beside Mike and started tapping on the lit screen. “We’ll start with the first one.”
The video opened with Miriam’s close-up face, drawn and free of makeup. She rubbed her eyes, then rested a cheek against the palm of her hand, smiling.
“Hey, Dad. Sorry I haven’t called you in a while. The last time we saw each other was when you came in for the vitamin injection, wasn’t it? It’s been … hectic, let’s just say. I have so much to tell you, but there isn’t much time. So I’ll just cut to the chase.
“By now, I’m positive you already know that what I gave you wasn’t a vitamin injection. It was a vaccine still in its early stages and fraught with dangers, but with the limited options before me, I had no other choice.”
Her eyes watered, and she quickly swiped the tears away. Her voice took on a pleading tone, and Mike briefly wondered if she was seeking forgiveness.
“It was the last thing I could do for you. As your daughter.”
Chapter 19
The lake house loomed before them, dark and mysterious under the dull moonlight. The attic window revealed nothing either, and Casey almost forgot that Roy was inside. No doubt he was sleeping soundly or staring at the ceiling with his ruined eyes, perhaps undergoing the worst existential crisis of what was once his promising life.
As soon as the truck idled to a stop, Cain jumped out of the driver’s seat and yanked the door open on Vlogman’s side. “Get out,” he ordered, grabbing him by the collar. “And don’t play dumb. I know you came to your senses a while ago.”
Vlogman gave a disarming smile, as if to use his devastatingly good looks to charm his way into Cain’s hardened heart. “Now, now, blondie, no need for violence. You need me to talk? Then, baby, all you gotta do is treat me right.”
An angry flush crept up Cain’s neck. “Call me baby again, and you and I are going to create a new Picasso masterpiece. With your face.”
“Shut up, both of you.” Casey slammed the door shut, glaring at them over the roof of the truck. “Just haul your asses inside and get cleaned up.”
At Casey’s terse instruction, Vlogman dropped his come-hither act and followed after Cain, who was already at the front door punching the password in.
“I think he has a thing for you,” Ashley noted, coming to stand beside her friend.
Casey snorted. “Oh, I bet he does. Not only did I save his miserable hide, but he clearly suspects that I’m the one who got the vaccine.” She swatted at a mosquito buzzing around her ear. “A word of advice, though – don’t fall for his pretty face. Not even when he wheedles at you with puppy-dog eyes.”
Ashley reared back, clearly insulted. “Hey, I have standards, you know? Tall and blond is my type. Although I wonder …” Her gaze was questioning. “Maybe you’re projecting?”
“Pffft. Don’t be ridiculous.”
As Casey made to move toward the lake house, Ashley blurted out, “You know the frat guy I was going to introduce to you? Once summer camp finished?” When Casey nodded, nonplussed, Ashley let out a nervous chuckle. “It was Roy.”
“Roy? But … he’s not my type.” At all, Casey added silently.
“I know. It’s just … he’s liked you since last year. He was the one who asked if I could introduce you to him.” Ashley shrugged. “It’s the reason he was at the lake house in the first place. Anyway, I thought you should know.”
Her timing could not be worse, and Casey had a mental vision of comically strangling her friend. Why was this information even relevant now? Especially when infected cannibals and death were their new norm? When she’d just witnessed two he
althy men ripped apart like discarded rag dolls?
Pinching the bridge of her nose, she muttered, “Let’s just go inside. I’ve got dried blood all over my hair, and it’s making me nauseated.”
“It’s sort of romantic in a way,” Ashley yapped in oblivion, falling into step with Casey. “He becomes infected and roams the woods, only to stumble into his love interest, who then proceeds to nurse him back to consciousness.” A soft sigh. “Doesn’t that sound dreamy?”
“No, it doesn’t,” Casey said loudly, wishing she could shake some sense into her friend. “I almost died in the woods, Ashley, not once but three times. There’s nothing romantic about that.”
The two friends entered the foyer and found Vlogman helping himself to canned baked beans and a new packet of chocolate chip cookies. Cain was nowhere to be seen.
Ashley stomped over and snatched the cookies from his hands. “You’re not allowed to eat yet. And where did Cain go?”
“Cain? Ah … you mean Goldilocks?” Vlogman hurriedly shoveled several spoonfuls of baked beans into his mouth before anyone could also snatch that away. “Dunno. He just took off and left me all by my lonesome.”
“I’m here,” Cain answered, striding purposefully toward their guest. He was carrying a toolbox in one hand, which seemed ominous given the circumstances.
Casey blanched at the sight. “What’s that for?”
“Backpedaling already?” he asked grimly. “You know why I took this out of the shed.” Pulling out a screw driver, he inspected it carefully like a surgeon about to perform a delicate operation. Which, in a sense, it kind of was. “We’re going to see this through to the end.”
The whole situation was spiraling into madness.
“No,” she said loudly. “We’re college students, damn it! We’re not going to sit here and reenact scenes from Hostel.”
“Ooh, I love that movie,” Vlogman quipped.
Maybe the fool had cracked his skull when Casey yanked him off the tree. She stared at him in loathing. “How about you stop eating and start talking?” She’d wanted to go upstairs to check on Roy’s condition and make sure he was okay, but that would have to wait.
Vlogman licked the sauce from his bottom lip and smiled. “Where should I begin?”
“Your name, for starters.”
“No comment.”
“Seriously? You expect us to keep calling you ‘Vlogman’?”
His smile widened in response.
Ashley cleared her throat. “Um, guys, sorry to interrupt, but maybe we should take five minutes to clean up a bit.” Her disgusted gaze swept over the tracks of dirt on the floor and blood stains smeared across the couch covers. “It’s starting to stink in here.”
With dirt, blood, bits of organs, and the tangy sweat of fear clinging to their bodies and clothes, combined with the cool night’s air settling over the house, the place was beginning to feel a little like a slaughterhouse. No wonder Ashley was itching to clean up.
Casey nodded, weary. “Sure. I’ll bring over the wet wipes and new clothes. And as for our hair …” She took a tentative sniff of her bloodied hair, then glanced at the others. “Looks like I’m the only one who actually needs to wash it.”
“You got well water?” Vlogman asked, watching her carefully.
She gave him a level look. “Of course not. I’m just going to take a quick shower.”
“Even though the water’s contaminated?”
“Drop the innocent act already. You know full well I’m immune to the infection.”
He shrugged. “Actually, I didn’t know, but thanks for confirming my suspicions.”
This idle talk had gone on long enough. Eager to move along, Casey went upstairs with Ashley to retrieve the wet wipes, clothes, and cleaning products for the couch and floors. Once she sent her friend down with the supplies, Casey hurried to the attic and stood outside the door, listening closely.
“Roy?” she whispered.
Silence greeted her.
She gently rapped at the door. “Are you sleeping?”
The absence of an answer indicated that he was indeed fast asleep. She was reluctant to disturb his rest, but the thought of waiting until morning to check in on him raised her anxiety levels.
I’ll come back in an hour and check again.
A little embarrassed by her neurotic behavior, she headed toward the bathroom for that much-needed shower.
* * *
The interrogation was going more smoothly than Casey had anticipated.
Except for his stubborn insistence on hiding behind his online handle, Vlogman replied to every basic question with candor. Favorite food? Thai takeout. Occupation pre-epidemic? Part-time model and fine arts student. His reasons for going into the dark web and posting on the forums to discuss the vaccine?
“To look for people who’d received it. Isn’t it obvious?” he said, taking a massive bite out of the last chocolate chip cookie.
“But, why? And where did you even hear about the possibility of a vaccine in the first place?”
“Hear?” Vlogman repeated, wrinkling his nose. “I didn’t hear about it from some online poster, if that’s what you’re hinting at. Don’t make this complicated, Barbie. Apply Occam’s razor here.”
Cain stirred in his chair. “Want me to bring out the screw driver again? I left the garden shears inside the truck, too.”
“No … it’s fine.” She was beyond tired and irritable, and the last thing she needed was an evening puzzle requiring some serious mental gymnastics.
Don’t make this complicated, Barbie.
Frowning, she lifted her head. “You.” At his expectant stare, she continued. “You also got the vaccine.”
Slight disappointment flickered in his eyes. “Not quite. But like you, I also volunteered for the clinical trials at Deen & Blatt Pharmaceuticals. So did several of my struggling artist friends who thought it’d be a great way to pay off their piling debts and back rent. Of the four of us, two were given what was labeled a ‘vitamin shot.’ The remaining friend and I didn’t.” He leaned in, locking his fingers together. “Now, here’s another puzzle for you, Barbie. Why were two given the vaccine, and the other two left out?”
“How about you dispense with the drama and just give me the answer?”
“No. Contrary to popular belief, information is not free. At least, not the ones that really matter. And since money doesn’t hold any value these days, I expect to be entertained by you as payment.”
This little douchebag was really trying her patience now.
She turned to address her twin. “Hey, I’ve got a better idea than your screw driver. Why don’t we truss him up like a plucked chicken and throw him into the lake?”
Cain rose to his full height, cracking his knuckles in a menacing fashion. “I’m all for it. But let me pummel that smug face of his first.”
Surprisingly, Vlogman seemed unfazed by their threats. Maybe because, deep down, he knew they weren’t truly capable of such heinous action.
“Fine, fine! I’ll answer your stupid questions,” he said, snorting under his breath. “The two of us were left out because we weren’t the correct blood type.”
Blood type?
Casey and Cain were type O negative. Since she’d received the vaccine, that meant …
“Your friends who received the vitamin shot, were they type O negative?”
“Ding, ding, ding! And folks, weeee have a winner!” He pantomimed blowing on a trombone, his lean arm whipping back and forth. “But things didn’t stop there. Because two days after receiving the vaccine, one of them died suddenly. Heart attack.” He paused briefly. “Juan was only twenty-six years old.”
Casey chose her next words carefully. “I’m sorry to hear it. That said, I’m not seeing a connection here. Maybe your friend suffered from a heart-related illness?”
“Impossible. Juan was young and thin as a rail.”
“Actually, underweight people are at greater risk of experiencing heart
disease that can lead to early death. The way I see it, it’s unlikely he died because of the vaccine.”
Judging by his mulish expression, it was apparent he didn’t believe this for a second.
Let’s just move on for now. “And your other friend? Is he or she still alive?”
Vlogman frowned. “Well, she survived that initial stage, so we had high hopes for what it all meant, especially when we realized she was curiously immune to the spreading infection. Unfortunately, she was attacked by an infected.” At Casey’s probing gaze, he sighed. “It tore off her arm, leading to major blood loss.”
So, two vaccinated friends had died under very different circumstances. The latter’s death had a logical reason – her entire arm had been torn off by an infected – but the former still remained in doubt. If Vlogman’s theory was right, it meant Casey could also drop dead at any given second. She’d be a walking time bomb, thanks to the wonderful “vitamin shot.”
Her head jerked up as his last statement sank in. “Did your friend’s blood splash over the infected?” she asked in a calm voice. Did it get inside the infected person?
A sardonic rise of his eyebrow indicated he knew exactly where this was headed.
“Well?” she pressed him.
Turned out Vlogman had grown tired of being interrogated. He rose up and stretched in a leisurely manner. “Time for a bathroom break, I think.”
Casey paused, considering. A five-minute break couldn’t hurt. And it would give her an excuse to quickly check on Roy again.
“Fine. You do that. In the meantime, I’ll go and check on Roy.”
“Don’t get too close,” Cain muttered, plopping down on the couch and making himself comfortable. “Or else it’ll be your funeral.”
“What’s Blondie talking about?” Vlogman glanced at them back and forth. “Who’s this ‘Roy’? Was there another person here I didn’t know about?”
Chuckling, Ashley gave his inquiry a dismissive wave of her hand. “Cain’s just kidding around. Roy’s my friend who was recently infected, but he’s okay now. All thanks to Casey, of course.”
Fate Page 14
