“You gave your blood to an infected?” he demanded. The cocky smile that had lingered for the past hour or so was gone. “And then you brought him here?”
“Yes, we did, not that it’s any of your business. Now could you stop wasting time and go take that leak like you’d planned to?” This jerk was really getting on her nerves! Willing herself not to roll her eyes at him, Casey headed for the stairs.
“Stop right there,” Vlogman ordered. “Don’t take another step.”
Cain bolted up from his supine position, scowling. “Hey, don’t you dare threaten her.”
But Vlogman wasn’t listening. His hard gaze burned into Casey, who stood there frozen with equal parts fear and curiosity. His intense eyes reminded her of the silent staring contest they’d shared inside the truck, and it dawned on her that this was the real Vlogman behind the attractive façade. For the second time that day, she was seeing who he really was.
“I’m going up to check on Roy,” she said slowly, as if speaking to a half-wit, then spun on her heels to climb the stairs.
Before she could take another step, however, Vlogman tackled her from behind.
As Casey’s forehead bounced painfully off the carpeted staircase, she vaguely heard cries and curses amid a fierce altercation breaking out in the living room. Too dazed to react, she lay her head down and allowed her limp body to slide to a crumpled heap at the floor.
The sweet darkness that dulled the pain and overtook her in an instant was a welcome respite.
Chapter 20
Miriam’s confession was likely to take a while.
Suddenly agitated, Mike moved away from Mr. Rothstein and glanced at the clock hanging on the office wall. It was fast approaching ten.
The pianist tapped on the bright screen, pausing the video. “Is something troubling you, young Mike?”
“Kind of. We left Trey alone for too long, don’t you think?”
Mr. Rothstein’s gaze was firm as he lowered the tablet. “Myrtle is watching over him. I’m fully aware of your feelings toward her,” he added before Mike could interrupt, “and believe me, I share your sentiments. She’s a rather difficult sort who marches to the beat of her own drum. However, she would never intentionally harm Trey; I’m quite certain of it.”
With one serving of a steak dinner, his elderly friend was already singing her virtues. To think that such a simple bribe could sway the retired pianist’s heart …
“Maybe not physical harm,” Mike insisted, “but she’s clearly trying to brainwash him by feeding him lies.”
“She can try, but she won’t succeed.” Noticing Mike’s rigid stance, Mr. Rothstein gave him a faint smile of amusement. “I have known Trey for many years, and I have watched him grow from a tiny, intimidating toddler to a small, intimidating junior high schooler who often attended graduate classes at the state university to broaden his mind. So why am I saying all this? To tell you that Trey forms his own opinion, based on what he sees.” With a soft groan, he rose up and gripped Mike’s arm, guiding him back to the table. “And just as he is learning to trust you, so you must accord him the same.”
Not for the first time, Mike felt a sense of shame at his friend’s gentle rebuke. But how else was he supposed to react when Myrtle’s zealotry was wearing him down?
“I have a question, my friend.”
“What is it?”
Caressing Miriam’s frozen image on the tablet, Mr. Rothstein asked, “Are you afraid to hear the truth?”
Hell, yes, even though that’s why we risked our lives to get here. But Mike could never say that out loud. “Not afraid, just … unprepared, I guess.”
“Yes, that is an excellent adjective to describe the general feeling we have. Nonetheless, we mustn’t dilly-dally anymore than we already have. Shall I press ‘play’?”
“Be my guest,” Mike said, gesturing for him to proceed.
Miriam Rothstein continued speaking, her voice sounding stronger than before. “Dad, I can’t go into the specifics of why such a vaccine even exists at all, but it’s something we’ve been developing for a while now. As a precaution. But to think that it would come to this …” She swallowed hard, as if still trying to process the catastrophe that had unfolded. “S-Sorry; I’m digressing. The purpose of this video is to give you some information on the vaccine, and what you need to do from here onward.
“Since you’re watching this, it means you’re one of the few who managed to survive. I … I’m so relieved you made it, Dad. Preclinical testing on non-human primates resulted in a higher mortality rate than we were comfortable with, but we were faced with two choices – give the volunteers at least a fighting chance, or none at all.”
Mike stifled a snort of derision. What she – no, they – had done was beyond criminal. Give them “a fighting chance”? By the sound of it, a number of those who’d volunteered for the clinical trials and gotten the vitamin shot were already dead. And not because they’d been exposed to contaminated water or killed by the infected. No – they were dead because these megalomaniacs had treated them as their personal science experiment. The unknowing volunteers had been no better than lab rats scurrying around their cages with death injected into them.
And what about us? Exactly when will we drop dead, too?
“I can’t listen to this –” he choked out.
“We must.” Mr. Rothstein’s face was grim. “There should be no surprise here, Mike; if you recall, we spoke about this possibility on the day you rescued me.”
Bandying about ideas was one thing; hearing it confirmed was quite another matter.
“We gave the vaccine to eight volunteers out of a hundred and fifty. Nine if it includes you, Dad. All of them were blood type O negative. For the ones who survived, they now carry the vaccine that can help others of sound health. Our belief is that the recipients of this new vaccine, which resides in the surviving volunteers, will fare better than their predecessors, so to speak. They will have a higher chance of survival.”
Mr. Rothstein paused the video. “It seems counterintuitive to ask this question after what we have heard, but you are O negative, correct?”
“Why waste your breath by asking?”
The pianist kindly ignored the childish retort. “Then as carriers of the vaccine, we are obligated to help those who are still alive.”
“According to your daughter. But I have no desire of becoming a portable blood bank. I mean, imagine if word got out. You think people will just line up dutifully to get the vaccine? Hell, no. They’d hunt us down and drain our bodies like teething vampires.”
“Yes … I’m afraid you do bring up a legitimate concern.” Mr. Rothstein fell silent, his forehead deeply lined with worry, and returned to the video once more.
“Now, these are the eight volunteers who were vaccinated – Lance Davis, Kiara White, Esther Kim, Juan Hernandez, Casey Miller, Mason Iwaki, Mike Weber, and Felipe Vargas. If you search the tablet, you’ll find a document containing their respective photos and addresses. Please find them. And when you do, show them this video so they can understand. Staying together would be best for all of you. And as a group, you can then decide how to proceed.”
Great. It was bad enough she’d treated them like lab rats, but now she was giving them an assignment of this magnitude?
“Just one more thing before I end this video: if you’re thinking of helping an infected friend, my advice to you is don’t do it. The vaccine in you will not work on them. I repeat: It. Will. Not. Work. If anything, you’ll only prolong their suffering in unimaginable ways.” She stopped, as if considering what she’d just said. “There’s so much we don’t know. The side effects … they seem to vary depending on the test subject, and it’s highly unpredictable. That said, I can speak with some certainty that the volunteers who’ve survived will be … fine.”
Oh, sure, they were fine. For now. With the added bonus of unpredictable side effects.
On cue, Mike’s fingers crept up to touch his cheek where the de
ep cut had disappeared days ago. His thoughts wandered to his increased speed and strength, and Mr. Rothstein’s otherworldly hearing. If these were the side effects Miriam was referring to, then maybe he could grudgingly accept that there were some positive elements to this vaccine.
“Should Trey be our first recipient?” the pianist mused, and Mike shook himself out of his reverie.
“No. Not until we know without a shred of doubt that our blood won’t endanger him.”
“Hmm, you’re right. We should test on healthy adults before testing on children. How about Myrtle?”
“Is she healthy, though? She might drop dead before she can finish saying ‘pedophile.’”
“Myrtle it is, then,” Mr. Rothstein said briskly.
Mike tried to contain his laughter. “Really? Even if it means no more steak dinners?”
At that reminder, the pianist quickly changed his tune. “Ah, I believe it’s time for bed. Let’s discuss this matter tomorrow when we’re bright-eyed and bushy-tailed, shall we?”
“Sure,” Mike said, smiling.
Before leaving the office, he paused to swipe a few syringes from the medicine drawer. Now that he knew his blood was lethal to the infected, he planned to carry a few blood-filled syringes around.
Maybe we should visit a zoo tomorrow and look for a tranquilizer gun.
It would be more effective at stopping the infected than riddling them with bullets.
* * *
Casey … can you hear me? Caseyyyyy …
The living room gradually came into focus, and Casey blinked as Ashley hovered just inches above her face.
“Can you hear me?” she repeated in a breathy voice. “Casey –”
“Call my name one more time, and I’ll pinch your thigh.” Wincing, Casey struggled to a sitting position and looked around, eventually finding Vlogman bound with duct tape and slouching on the stairs. A slight discoloration was starting to spread across his cheekbone.
“Are you okay?” she asked.
“I’m fine.” His tone was brusque. “Sorry about earlier. But I had my reasons.”
Casey gingerly touched the bump on her forehead. “Care to explain what happened?”
“He says Roy is dead,” Cain interrupted. Her twin was leaning against the wall, arms folded across his chest. “But when I tried to go up to the attic, he pretty much threw a fit.”
Roy. But she had saved him, hadn’t she? His condition had been improving.
“I … I have to check on him,” Casey said, getting up with Ashley’s help.
Vlogman simply stared at her. “If you’re going to be stubborn about it, I won’t stop you. However, keep this in mind – none of us can help you clean up the mess. That attic is highly contagious to the rest of us who aren’t immune to the virus.”
What the devil is he rambling on about? What mess?
Quelling her growing alarm, she pulled away from her friend’s grip. “Ashley, could you get the key to the attic?”
“Sure.” Ashley hurried over to a decorative glass bowl in the kitchen and scooped the key out, jangling it against the steel ring as she returned to her spot beside her friend.
Without preamble, Casey climbed the stairs and stood a few steps below Vlogman, who immediately scooted over to the side to make room for her.
Boldly, she stalked past him and kept going until she reached the attic. However, the second she found herself at the door, she realized she couldn’t budge an inch.
Move, damn it. What are you waiting for?
This time, Casey didn’t bother to knock. She unlocked the door and took a step inside, but before her foot could touch the hard wooden floor, the smell hit her.
Oh, dear god. This must be what a painful death smells like.
She let out a frightened whimper as her fingers scrabbled along the wall, searching for the light switch. The second they touched the toggle, she flicked it on even though her inner voice screamed at her to stop everything and get out.
Most dictionaries generally define mess as “a dirty or untidy state.” Clearly, Vlogman had downplayed his earlier statement for Casey’s sake, or he had no idea what he was talking about.
The attic walls and floor were splattered with viscous blood, some still streaking jagged trails down the smooth surface. But that paled in comparison to the sheer nightmare that lay before her eyes.
Every orifice on Roy’s face and body was leaking clotted blood, but even worse, there was a strange, glistening pile of reddish flesh behind his backside. His pants were unzippered, pushed down his hips, and it took Casey several seconds to understand why.
Poor Roy had forcibly expelled his liquefied organs via his rectum.
Dizzy with overwhelming guilt, she pressed her forehead against the door as tears streaked down her hot cheeks. Vlogman’s friends had died violently, but they had died within seconds. Not so with Roy. He had lain in the dark, alone and suffering unspeakable pain as his innards melted away.
And I did this to him. I brought him back to consciousness, only for him to suffer and die in the most horrific way possible. It would have been far better if he’d remained infected and died from a clean bullet to the head.
We’ll try to return by tonight, she’d said before leaving.
By tonight.
Such cruel, empty promises.
Sobbing loudly, Casey buried her face in her trembling hands.
Chapter 21
Silently, Casey floated down from the attic in a cloud of mindless haze and retrieved all the cleaning materials and plastic bags to store Roy’s body. She didn’t reply when Ashley peppered her with questions – Was Roy really dead? What were the bags for? What was that wail earlier? – and spent the next two hours or so cleaning the attic. She took meticulous care with Roy’s damaged body, wiping all the gore off and outfitting him with a clean pair of shorts and a blue T-shirt with the university logo. It seemed like the best way to honor him; as an athlete, he’d surely want to be remembered for his college achievements.
After binding Roy with plastic bags and duct tape, Casey lifted his corpse – quite easily now – and gently carried him down to the living room. She did the same with the other bags containing the rest of him, placing them at the foot of the stairs.
“I need a favor,” she suddenly said, startling the other three as she wiped the dripping beads of sweat from her forehead.
“We’re not helping you carry him,” Vlogman said at once.
“Yes, I’m well aware of how you feel,” she snapped, physically and mentally exhausted. “What I need is a well-dug grave so I can bury him, but I’m too tired to do it.” She swung her pleading eyes toward Cain. “Please?”
He nodded at her, looking concerned. “I can probably get it done in under an hour.” But as he made to move outside, Vlogman jumped in between them.
Casey frowned at his freed wrists and ankles. “Who cut off the duct tape?”
“Oh, c’mon,” he said, rolling his eyes. “Were you really planning on keeping me tied up all night? That’s awfully kinky of you, Barbie.”
How could he even think of making sexual jokes at a time like this?
“But let’s get back on track. Burying your friend is a bad idea,” he said, ignoring her death glare. “It’s too dangerous. Besides, the forest animals will just dig him out in a couple of days.”
“Then how about the lake?” Ashley suggested. “It’s contaminated, anyway. We could tie Roy with weights and give him a burial that suits him. Since, you know, he was an athlete swimmer and loved the water.”
That seemed like the best idea, but Vlogman was unconvinced.
“It’s still too risky. What we need is a way to dispose of his body permanently. Like …” he trailed off, staring at the ceiling thoughtfully, then snapped his fingers. “Like cremation.”
Cain let out a contemptuous bark of laughter. “Oh, yeah, awesome idea. Why don’t we have a bonfire party while we’re at it, invite all the infected roaming in the woods?”
“What the hell did you say?” Cain lurched at him, but Casey stepped in between them, taking pains to avoid any physical contact. She’d cleaned herself up as best as she could, but it was better to err on the side of caution.
“That’s enough, both of you.” Vexed, she turned to address Vlogman. “If we’re going to cremate his body, then can it wait until morning?”
“I don’t know … I’d feel a lot safer if we got rid of it now.”
“His name was Roy, not ‘it,’” Ashley said testily.
Tense silence fell over the room before Casey spoke again. “Despite the sarcasm, my brother wasn’t wrong. A large fire is going to attract the infected.”
Vlogman sighed loudly, rubbing his temples. “Look, I’m just thinking of our safety first, okay? I mean … yeah, you’re right, a fire will draw the infected to us. So let’s do it this way – we’ll set your friend on fire and then leave right after.” His gaze returned to Roy’s corpse lying on the floor. “We’d have to go pretty far from the lake house to do this, though.”
“Then do it yourself,” Cain said, returning to the couch, “since you’re the one who’s chomping at the bit for a midnight cremation.”
“I told you, only Barbie can touch him –”
“I agree with Cain,” Casey broke in, collapsing on the couch beside her twin. “We need rest. Don’t forget we barely escaped death just hours ago.”
Unfortunately, it was hard to rest when Roy’s plastic-wrapped corpse was right there in their sight, reminding them of the unknown horrors that still awaited them.
Minutes ticked by, each absorbed in his or her own troubled thoughts.
“It’s not safe keeping him here,” Vlogman muttered, breaking the silence. “His infected corpse could attract all kinds of trouble. He’ll start to smell, and then that will attract the infected. And since he’s highly contagious, it’s possible that the virus could be airborne –”
Fate Page 15
