by Ellis, Tara
In an instant, The Kuru not only killed people, but took away their ability to trust and live together. Tyler was only sixteen, but even he understood that if everyone kept being so scared and running away from each other, it wouldn’t be long before they all started going crazy. Crazier than they already were.
As Tyler watched Devon and Peta check for gas while Eddy and Jason stood guard, he suddenly wished they could stay there. For a while, anyway. They were almost at the Libi Nati, and that meant he had to start thinking about what came next. It was easier when all Tyler had to worry about was what was happening in the moment, and not about the future. Not about crazy people, and primal fears of the unseen, and certainly not about what he was going to do once they ran out of road.
Because once they reached the Libi Nati, Tyler would have to learn how to start living again.
Chapter 24
JASON
Near Pokigron, Suriname
Jason stood watching the road for several more minutes, convinced the car would return with reinforcements. While Eddy was right, and they hadn’t encountered an ambush or any hostility since Guayana City, the potential was still there.
He’d inadequately described how he’d been feeling for the past couple of days, which intensified as he made a visual sweep of the property. The old barn was slightly leaning, and there were a few missing weathered planks from its walls. The double doors were open, and Jason could see hay and other equipment was stored inside, so it had to be a working farm. He had no idea what kind of crops were grown in the country of Suriname, aside from cane sugar and bananas.
There were a couple of cleared acres along the main road, giving easy access to the barn and equipment. A rough dirt road led away from the structure and disappeared into the jungle. Jason assumed it led to the crops and main house, but they weren’t going to be finding out. He was eager to get the gas, and then get going as fast as possible.
“It’s gasoline!” Devon shouted, waving a hand over his head. He was standing near the tractor with Peta, and they were already positioning the only hose and gas can they had left.
“You guys work on the gas while Jason and I search the barn,” Eddy suggested.
Jason frowned and didn’t move when Eddy started to head for the building. “We’ve got maybe three hours of light left,” he said, looking up at the sky. “I know you’ve looked at that secondary map, Eddy. It isn’t going to be easy to navigate, and I don’t want to get stuck out in the thick of the jungle in the dark.”
Eddy stopped and turned to stare at Jason. He had the same questioning look as he’d had in the Jeep. “I agree, but I don’t see how the two of us looking inside the barn while they syphon gas would impact that.”
Jason shuffled from foot-to-foot and studied the tree-line again. It was too quiet. Pivoting, he checked the road and listened for the sound of an engine. Nothing. Except, it wasn’t. He could feel it. Like a small animal under the watchful eye of a predator. It was the same feeling he’d had when standing in the middle of the open square in the Iraqi town, moments before the—
“Jason?” Eddy’s voice was louder, but not urgent. “Are you okay? You can stay outside, if you’d like.”
His head was slow to move as Jason fought to keep the barn and jungle visible, instead of the arid landscape of the desert. Maybe it would do him some good to get out of the sun and inside four walls, even if it was only for a few minutes. Nodding, he swallowed and wiped at his forehead. “Go ahead,” he grumbled, gesturing at the barn with his rifle. “I’m right behind you.”
Though a bit stuffy, it was a good ten degrees cooler in the shadowy building, and Jason promptly took up a spot on the nearest bale of hay. He still had a clear view outside, but with the wall to his back he was able to breathe a little easier. He watched as Marty continued to bark and run in wide circles around Tyler and Peta. He’d been worried that he wasn’t getting enough to eat, and was acting depressed. It was reassuring to see him playful again.
“O’Brian’s Pub,” Eddy said, interrupting Jason’s thoughts.
He looked to where Eddy was rifling through some ancient-looking farm tools. “What?”
“On the corner of twelfth.” Eddy straightened and looked at him, an odd expression on his face. “I’m going to miss our weekly dinners there. The draft port, the homemade steak fries…and the conversations.”
Jason leaned forward, intrigued. “You’ll miss it?”
“Yes,” Eddy answered, looking like he’d made up his mind. “I found myself thinking about it earlier, when we were all saying how hungry we are. And just now, your increasing disinterest in talking reminded me of the very animated discussions we’d often have.”
Jason’s confusion deepened as Eddy went back to looking through a cabinet. “I’ll miss all that normal stuff, too, but…I didn’t think you could feel anything.”
“Ah!” Eddy hooted, holding up a coil of clear plastic tubing. He tossed it to Jason. “This should help make syphoning easier, it’s much longer than what we’ve currently got.”
When Jason caught it and continued to stare at him without moving, Eddy realized he hadn’t answered the question. “I thought I already told you that I don’t feel extreme emotions. Everything else is…tampered. I still get a sense of whether something prompts a positive or negative reaction, I just don’t feel it. I believe most of it comes down to the chemicals that are or are not released in conjunction with the emotion. It’s really quite fascinating.”
Jason rolled the hose in his hands for a moment, uncertain that he was understanding Eddy. “So, when you say you’ll miss the food and our talks, you’re referring more to a sense of loss, rather than sadness?”
Cocking his head, Eddy paused and then nodded. “Yes, I suppose that would be a satisfactory way of explaining it.”
Jason remained seated as Eddy moved on to a workbench. Everything had happened too fast, and he’d been deep in survivor mode for so many days that he hadn’t thought that much about his friend’s condition. He didn’t understand it, and there wasn’t anything he could do to help him, so it was easier to just accept that the old Eddy was gone. But Jason missed his friend, and he hated the way he’d been feeling about him.
For the first time since he’d seen him jump down from the helicopter, Jason saw a glimpse of the old Eddy. Of the guy who could pound more beers and steak fries than anyone else he knew, and still beat him at a game of darts while singing a ridiculous Irish song.
Jason had always appreciated the brilliant neurologist whose mind worked like a computer, but he loved the man who forced him to leave his apartment on the weekends and begin to live again.
As they got closer to the Libi Nati, Jason was having to face the likelihood that his daughter hadn’t survived. That Eddy was the only person he had left that was connected to the life he’d never get back. He felt ashamed. Eddy would have never given up on him so easily.
“Do you think it’s improving?” Jason asked. Eddy turned and raised an eyebrow at him. “Your emotions. Do you think it’s possible you’ve started thinking about things because some of the damage could be healing?”
“I’ve considered that,” Eddy said. “As we both know, the brain has an incredible capacity for restoring damaged neural pathways, so I would be remiss to say no. Though I don’t believe my emotions are returning, it’s possible there could eventually be some improvement. You really should take them the tubing,” he added.
Grinning, Jason felt lighter as he hopped off the bale. He didn’t care how low of odds Eddy gave his recovery; he’d take it as a positive. The reality was that nothing was a given, including his daughter. He had to believe she was still alive.
He was almost to the doors when he heard Eddy make a weird hissing noise.
“Jason!” Eddy’s voice was strained, and it had the desired effect as Jason stopped and jerked back around.
Eddy was still positioned in front of the work table, frozen with his arms out at his sides. His face was a mix o
f surprise and something awfully close to fear. He was looking up, so Jason followed his line-of-sight.
It wasn’t Eddy who had hissed, but a cat. A very large, black domesticated cat with orange eyes and an especially bad attitude. It was perched on the edge of the loft, its claws digging menacingly at the wood it sat on. Relaxing, Jason was about to make a joke about using cats for therapy, when he saw movement further down the loft.
His sense of being the prey blossomed again as he saw several other cats lined up along the raised platform, no more than twenty feet away. Jason would have normally laughed off such a ridiculous sensation, except there was nothing normal about the world anymore.
More than a dozen cats were watching them, their tails switching. A chorus of mewls was growing in volume, and he could see more eyes glowing in the murkiness behind them.
The rafters began to shift and coalesce with muted colors as the cats balanced along them made their presence known. Dozens more, all moving in the same manner and making a similar sound. It was almost like their actions were coordinated, like—
“Run!” Eddy shouted.
Jason was already moving, his retreat marked by the sound of hundreds of paws hitting the dirt floor behind them. As soon as he was through the doors, Jason twisted around with the intent of closing them behind Eddy. But Eddy had already caught up, and the first of the cats was close behind. Too close.
A high-pitched bark interrupted their plight, and added confusion to the scene as Marty plummeted toward them. “No!” Jason shouted, envisioning Marty buried under a pile of feral cats.
Feeling absurd, Jason swung the rifle around. Of all the things he thought they might need the weapon for, killer house cats wasn’t one of them. He saw Eddy going through the same motions off to his left, with Marty charging up between them. But as he looked for his first target, Jason realized the barking dog was having some success. The dozen or so cats that had made it outside were retreating, howling in protest as they scurried back inside the barn.
“Marty!” Jason yelled again as he lunged for his collar. If Marty managed to get inside the barn, he had no idea what would happen. He missed, but it turned out to be unnecessary.
Marty skid to a stop on his own a few feet shy of the open doors, hackles raised. His excited bark was replaced with a whimper, and his haunches began to quiver as he backed away.
Motioning to Eddy, Jason rushed forward and grabbed at one of the doors. As they swung them shut, he got a glimpse inside. There were rows of cats. Literal rows. They filled the floor of the barn, close to a hundred of them, and they’d fallen completely silent.
“What was that?” Tyler shouted, running toward them. His eyes were wide and he kept looking from Marty and back to the doors of the barn. “Were those cats? I thought I saw cats chasing you guys!”
Devon and Peta were following at a distance, and Peta had what looked to be a full can of gas. “Please don’t tell me he’s right,” Peta said, not looking amused.
Jason wanted to laugh it off, but he didn’t have the stomach for it. He half-expected the doors to swing back out, and he began looking around the landscape with the same foreboding as when they’d first arrived. He didn’t think the threat was contained to the barn. It didn’t make any sense, but he knew the bizarre danger from the cats was only a small representation of what was lurking and waiting in the jungle.
“Don’t worry,” Tyler offered, rubbing at Marty’s head. “Marty took care of ‘em!”
“Either that, or they knew they were unevenly matched against the rifles,” Eddy suggested.
Devon scoffed, but Peta looked at Jason and frowned when she saw he wasn’t laughing. Taking the gas can from her, he gestured toward the truck. “We should go.”
As they made their way back, he kept looking over his shoulder. The cats were too quiet. It was almost as if—
Shaking his head, Jason refused to think that way, so he decided to go with the dog theory. It was the only way he’d be able to get any sleep later.
Chapter 25
MADELINE
Lassen National Forest
Northern California
The mountains were on fire.
An orange glow lit the sky in a false sunset as the day faded into twilight, and smoke produced a heavy filter that reflected the demise of the burning trees in the distance. Madeline stood next to the Hummer in her driveway and watched for some time as the fire continued to progress, mesmerized by the undulating light against the darkness.
She’d felt a tremor earlier in the day, and suspected the looming inferno could be a result of a long-dormant volcano brought to life, or perhaps a massive quake along the coast that ruptured a gas line. Either way, it didn’t matter. It could burn through the whole valley and it wouldn’t concern Madeline, because she was leaving.
Forcing herself to look away, she turned back to the vehicle and finished shoving a box into the back. She’d already unhooked the trailer as she wouldn’t be needing the extensive amount of supplies, and wanted to be more flexible in her abilities to go off-road if needed. Basic survival gear for a few days’ time, an assortment of equipment from her lab, and all of her research was already safely stowed away. All that was left to collect were her personal items and clothing, and then to strap the filled gas cans onto the back.
Madeline had started packing that afternoon, after receiving confirmation from Doctor Davies about the last leg of her trip. It was all coming together through a rather brilliant logistical miracle.
She checked her watch. Fifteen minutes.
Pivoting back toward the house, Madeline rushed up the front steps with the eerie glow of the fire following her. There was just enough time to assemble her last bag before she was due to get another transmission, in which they would finalize some of the details.
While it might have seemed more prudent to wait until morning to head out, with the nearly two-thousand miles she’d be traveling to reach the Gulf of Mexico via Texas, she didn’t think it would matter. Madeline anticipated the slightly longer route she’d laid out using less-traveled roads through the mountains and deserts would be vacant most of the way. If they weren’t…she could certainly take care of herself. Her hand went automatically to the Mossberg 9mm secured in her leather chest holster. While it wasn’t her preferred weapon, she was pleased to find that it was still in the biometric safe hidden under her desk, since all the other guns had been taken.
When Madeline had stepped outside earlier, debating when would be a good time to leave, she’d spotted the first signs of the fire. That new and potential threat made the decision easy for her. Fires that time of year in the dry mountains could spread incredibly fast, especially since there wouldn’t be anyone fighting it. She had to leave before her only route out was cut off, and based on what she’d just seen, that would be long before morning.
Madeline had left the generator running all day, so the kitchen was bright when she stepped back inside. There was no longer a need to conserve the fuel, as well as the food that remained in the fridge and freezer. The remnants of a large barbeque she’d treated herself to was spread across the center island, and Madeline had no inclination to clean it up.
Let it all rot. Just like the rest of the world.
Passing through the mess without a second glance, she stopped at the threshold to her bedroom. Her hand moved slowly, reluctantly, until she finally clutched the doorknob of the closed door. She’d only been inside the fetid space once since pulling the mattress out. There hadn’t been a need.
Madeline would never be returning to the house that used to mean so much. It was originally built as a solace and refuge that she no longer required, nor wanted.
Then why was she so hesitant to enter the bedroom?
She stared at her hand for a moment, curious as to how it continued to clasp the knob without turning it. There appeared to be a disconnect between her thoughts and actions, and it wasn’t the first occurrence over the past three days. If she hadn’t already been
wearing soiled clothing, Madeline would have opted to back away and let it go. Except she couldn’t rely on finding necessities while en route, and it was simply illogical to leave without the basic requirements of appropriate clothing and toiletries.
“Sierra uniform two lima November. Listening.” The shrill words from the radio, turned up to maximum volume, echoed through the hall and caused Madeline to jerk back from the door.
Startled, she looked at her watch. Fifteen minutes. She’d lost fifteen minutes while standing there in the dim hallway, absorbed by her thoughts.
Madeline shuffled backwards from the door before spinning on her heel and jogging to the office. While she found her progressively disjointed behaviors concerning, it didn’t cause a rush of fear or surge in adrenaline. Instead, it gave her more points of interest to add to her notebooks, and created yet another layer to an increasingly complex matrix of possibilities.
Grabbing for the microphone, she keyed it up while sliding the nearby pad of paper and pen over. “Kilo six mike sierra. Go ahead.”
The expected series of clicks and chirps played out before the familiar voice of Dr. Eric Davies broke through loud and surprisingly clear, though there was a decent amount of background static. “Hello, Dr, Schaeffer. I’ve had the confirmation on the vessel Demetrius. It will be harbored off Matagorda Bay, in Port Lavaca. A Mr. Antonio Latoya will be waiting for you at the entrance to Bayfront Peninsula Park.”
Madeline finished scribbling down the name and locations in Texas. She had a long drive through the night to her first rest stop near Vegas, and then another twenty hours to Texas, before crossing the ocean in the most direct route possible to Suriname. High-altitude flight was now out of the question, in addition to the impossible task of securing a plane and pilot. According to Davies, and the news Madeline read prior to the satellite feed going dark, all infrastructure was lost. There weren’t enough people left alive to support anything. It was rather astounding that the man was able to locate the boat and other modes of transportation in Suriname, though Madeline would have to get herself to Texas first.
