As Chang walked over to the door leading deeper into the facility, the two guards split up, settling into the shadowy recesses of the lobby, where they would presumably be harder targets. Larsen joined him at the door.
“Let’s do this differently,” said Larsen, holding out a gloved hand. “I’ll swipe and you open it when I say. I’ll lead with the rifle.”
“Sounds good to me,” said Chang, handing him the card.
He stood behind the door and grabbed the handle, waiting for the signal. When the light turned green, Larsen quickly pocketed the card and raised his rifle.
“Do it.”
Chang pulled the heavy, featureless door open far enough for Larsen to slide through. Moments after he disappeared into the hallway on the other side of the door, Chang heard a meaty thud, followed by mumbled curses.
“Larsen?” said Chang, not daring to stick his head out from behind the reinforced metal door. “You all right?”
“I’m fine,” said Larsen. “Apparently the cleanup didn’t extend past the lobby.”
Chang opened the door a few more inches and peeked inside. Larsen lay on his back in a wall-to-wall pool of dark, semi-slick-looking blood. Two thick trails of gore traced a path from the pool to a closed door halfway down the fluorescent-lit hallway.
“Holy mother,” said Chang, clinging to the handle, ready to slam the door shut at the slightest provocation.
“You want to give me hand?” said Larsen, reaching upward. “They must have piled the lobby security here while they hunted down the rest of the team. This is a lot of blood.”
Chang opened the door all the way, eliciting a few murmured obscenities from the security guards. He gripped Larsen’s sticky, gloved hand and braced against the door frame, pulling him to his feet.
“Watch your step,” said Larsen, walking carefully out of the mess.
He followed Larsen’s footsteps as closely as possible, keeping one hand on the wall to keep himself stable. While he traversed the blood slick, Larsen removed his gloves and tossed them aside, leaving smudges of red where they hit the wall. Chang’s feet squished across the tile floor, leaving bloody footprints all the way to the door labeled SECURITY.
“This isn’t going to be pretty,” said Larsen, drawing his pistol and offering it to Chang. “You can stay out here. I won’t be long.”
“I think I can handle it at this point,” said Chang. “But I’ll take the pistol.”
“You know the deal,” said Larsen. “There’s no safety. Slip and fall, and you might shoot yourself—or me.”
“How do you not let any of this bother you?” said Chang.
“I wasn’t being funny. I really don’t want you to accidentally shoot me,” said Larsen, winking at him. “Sorry. It’s my way of dealing with shit. The worse things get, the more I joke. I can try to stop if it bothers you.”
“No,” said Chang. “I’d be more unnerved at this point if you stopped.”
It was true. Larsen’s seemingly inappropriate sense of humor was strangely comforting in the face of this nightmare. He wished he could project the same unaffected appearance—a sort of false bravado—but he couldn’t. He was scared out of his mind.
“Brace yourself,” said Larsen, pushing the door inward.
Chang started to gag immediately, turning his head slightly. One of the security guards slouched over the armrest of an institutional-looking navy-blue fabric couch, an expansive mosaic of splattered blood and darkened clumps plastered against the off-white wall where his head had once rested. The other two had been dumped on the floor in front of the couch, their bodies twisted in a grotesque heap. Even Larsen seemed to be frozen in place by the scene.
Chang dropped the pistol and put his hands on his knees, dry heaving twice before throwing up in the hallway. He coughed a few times and spit, trying to clear his mouth before speaking.
“This. This is—”
His stomach heaved again, but nothing came out. Larsen closed the door and kneeled next to him, putting a hand on Chang’s shoulder.
“I’m going to get you through this, Dr. Chang,” said Larsen. “The CHASE program is the work of monsters. This whole thing out there is the work of monsters.”
Chang looked up at him, seeing an even wider crack in his normally calm, stoic face. Larsen looked enraged. His eyes were squinted and his lips pressed together.
“Will you get angry if I kind of throw something back in your face?” said Chang.
Larsen shrugged his shoulders. “Go for it.”
“After everything you’ve seen and been through today, why did this push you over the top?”
“Fair question,” said Larsen, a faint grin breaking across half of his face.
When Larsen didn’t answer right away, appearing to have drifted away in thought, Chang almost told him to forget about it.
“I knew something was fucked up as soon as they changed my orders,” said Larsen. “But I thought we were being co-opted by another agency to do their dirty work. Some kind of last-ditch effort to cover their tracks. I mean, they had to know most of us wouldn’t play along. Right? I figured they were just throwing us at the problem, seeing what would stick. Why not?
“Chang, it wasn’t until right now that I truly realized that the whole CHASE program was a sham from the beginning. Created specifically for this scenario. Shit like this is going down all across the country. It’s really quite brilliant when you think about it.”
“What is?”
“The whole thing. They create this massive program that can be deployed anywhere and everywhere. All under the guise of safeguarding the nation’s best and brightest. Critical human assets. All a bunch of bullshit. They spike the program with loyal zealots to handle the sticky jobs—no pun intended—and throw the rest of us at the problem. That’s probably how they took your colleagues out of circulation, along with anyone else they deemed a threat.”
“It’s diabolical,” said Chang. “Though it would have been a hell of a lot easier just to send someone out to my house earlier in the day to kill me.”
“True. But this gives them plausible deniability,” said Larsen. “All mission interaction flows through the CTAB. There’s no human-to-human interface. Nothing that can be independently recorded. I’m sure they can scrub and manipulate the CTAB data. I can’t believe I didn’t see this coming.”
“How could you?” said Chang. “How could you possibly imagine a conspiracy this sick. It’s unfathomable on every level.”
Larsen shook his head, looking tired and defeated. Two words Chang would never have used to describe him before they opened this door.
“Let’s get this over with,” said Larsen. “I could use a long nap.”
“Hey, if it wasn’t for you, I’d be dead or sitting in some black site prison cell,” said Chang. “They made a huge mistake hiring you.”
Larsen’s face softened, his lips relaxing. It wasn’t a smile, but it was a start. “I’m not a very good employee—am I?”
“Not at all,” said Chang. “Can you imagine what they’re saying about you right now?”
“Nothing good—I hope.”
“Nothing good at all,” said Chang. “That’s your CHASE program legacy.”
“I can live with that,” whispered Larsen.
“Keep that locked away in your head. It’s important,” said Chang.
Larsen stared at him until it became a little uncomfortable.
“We’re going to be fine, aren’t we?” said Larsen.
“I have no idea,” said Chang. “I thought that was your department.”
Larsen laughed, finally smiling.
Chapter 38
Dr. Hale washed her hands and sat on the stool in front of her last patient, a fifteen-year-old girl with a deep four-inch slash down her left bicep. She’d been attacked in her backyard last night by a hatchet-swinging neighbor. The father sat by her side, holding her right hand and pressing his forehead against hers. He’d barely said a word since they’d wal
ked into the infirmary. According to a NevoTech employee that knew them well, the mother had been killed in the same attack. Hale wasn’t about to press either of them for details. That wasn’t her job. She was here to treat physical wounds. The rest would have to wait.
“Ashley, this is going to sting. Like a—you know what,” she said, dipping a sponge into a stainless steel tray filled with a chunky liquid.
The girl’s arm stiffened. “What is that? It smells funky.”
“It’s a little concoction we put together in the kitchen,” she said. “Lemon juice. Minced garlic. Chopped onions. They’re all natural antiseptics.”
“There’s no iodine?” said her father.
“Unfortunately, all of the medical supplies were used up before the two of you arrived last night. There wasn’t much here in the first place.”
He nodded and then kissed his daughter’s temple. “It’ll be fine.”
“This is a potent antiseptic brew. Something I learned from a naturopath seminar,” said Hale. “Plus, it’ll keep the vampires away. Along with everyone else.”
Ashley smiled. Almost laughed.
“Ready?”
After she nodded, Hale ran the sponge along the inflamed wound, eliciting a hiss from Ashley.
“It really hurts,” said Ashley.
Her father cast a distrustful look.
“Trust me. This is actually better than iodine or any of the other chemicals they use to disinfect wounds,” said Hale.
She finished sponging the wound before wrapping it in a thin layer of gauze. With the gauze in place, she poured a liberal amount of extra virgin olive oil on the cloth before wrapping the forearm in a second, thicker layer of gauze.
“Shouldn’t the wound be able to breathe?” said the father.
“Olive oil contains a significant amount of phenolic compounds, which have been shown to be effective against strains of bacteria that are immune to antibiotics. It’s been used for thousands of years to treat wounds.”
“You’re like some kind of hippie doctor,” said Ashley.
“Far from it,” said Hale. “I have a serious shoe addiction. That’s why I became a doctor. Shoes can get ridiculously expensive.”
They both laughed, the father finally opening up. “Sometimes I think that’s the only reason I’m working. To buy them new shoes.”
Hale knew where this conversation was headed before he finished his sentence. Mom. She immediately shifted topics.
“Ashley, Dad, I need both of you to do something for me,” she said.
“Okaaaaay,” said Ashley, taken aback by the shift.
Her dad nodded abruptly, his eyes conveying that he understood what she had just done for them. Hale spun her stool and grabbed two small plastic cups from the counter behind her, returning just as quickly.
“Round two,” said Hale, offering each of them one of the cups. “You’re not going to like the hippie doctor after this. Three cloves of smashed garlic and chopped onions, lightly sautéed in olive oil. A very potent antibiotic.”
“What do we do with this?” said the father.
“You eat it,” said Hale, turning her head to the bowl of crackers next to them. “With the crackers. I want to attack the bacteria from the outside—and inside.”
“Does she have an infection?” said the dad.
“She has external inflammation consistent with an improperly cleaned wound. Same as every other cut or scrape I’ve seen today,” said Hale. “But I don’t want to take any chances. This is a deep cut. If I had access to antibiotics, oral or IV, she’d be one of my top candidates.”
“I see,” he said, furrowing his brow.
“Smells raw,” said Ashley.
“I didn’t want to cook out all of the good properties. It’s best taken raw—but I know that’s a really tough sell. That’s why I had them cook it down a little. Like a cracker spread? It’ll keep the boys away. And the vampires. Whichever is the bigger threat.”
“The boys,” said her father.
“Dad!” said Ashley, taking one of the cups.
A knock on the door distracted all of them. Larsen barged in, followed by Chang.
“What the hell?” said the father, standing up and moving in front of his daughter.
Larsen glanced at Ashley’s dad for a second before shrugging his shoulders. “What’s the problem?”
“I’m seeing patients. As in this is fucking private?” said Hale, turning to Ashley. “Sorry for the language.”
“Not a problem,” said the teenager.
“I have a problem with this,” said her dad.
“We’ll be out of your way in a second,” said Larsen.
“We can come back,” said Chang, clearly uncomfortable with the situation.
“Sure. We’ll just wait outside,” said Larsen. “With the vaccine that can prevent all of this shit from happening.”
“It’s experimental,” said Chang.
“Sounds pretty far along in the experimental stage,” said Larsen.
“He’s in like extra-special asshole mode right now,” said Chang. “Thank god. You should have seen him earlier.”
“I’m not judging anyone,” said Hale. “What’s this vaccine?”
“NT-HSE893. An experimental, once-monthly pill taken to prevent HSV1 and HSV2 infection, which I believe is the key to stopping the virus that has been unleashed out there,” said Chang.
“But nobody here is showing symptoms,” said Hale.
“Yet,” said Chang. “Some of these people arrived less than twelve hours ago. My guess is that the virus was delivered through the water supply over a week ago. Maximum infection occurred within a few days of its release, but there’s a remote possibility for the virus in question to survive longer. This vaccine should kill anything brewing within your patient population.”
“We’ll take it,” said Ashley’s father.
“Side effects?” said Hale.
“GI upset in a small percentage. Maybe headaches,” said Chang. “It’s a relatively clean drug.”
“How many doses do you have?”
“Enough for everyone here,” said Chang, handing her a Ziploc bag filled with yellow pills. “The sooner you get this out there, the better.”
“Howard’s funeral is in forty minutes,” said Hale. “They’re doing it in the circular park. We’re all heading over in about twenty minutes. I’ll make an announcement when everyone returns.”
“Do they need any help with Howard?” said Larsen.
“Everything is taken care of from what I understand,” said Hale.
“All right. We’ll see you there,” said Larsen, nodding at Ashley and her dad before sniffing the air. “Are you marinating them for dinner? Smells like garlic.”
“Don’t let the door hit you on the way out,” said Hale.
Chang followed Larsen out, glancing over his shoulder. “He’s in rare form. Sorry.”
“We’re all in rare form,” said Hale, holding up the bag of pills. “Thank you for these. Life’s work?”
“Yeah. All in a Ziploc bag,” said Chang. “Not exactly how I imagined it.”
“I’m just glad you imagined it,” she said.
When they closed the door, she opened the plastic bag and removed two pills, setting them on the edge of the desk next to Ashley and her father. She spun in her chair and slid back to the medical supplies counter, pausing with the bag in her hand. Keeping her back to them, she took out two additional pills, quickly placing them in her mouth. She forced them down with a quick sip from a water bottle she kept on the counter.
Two pills. She hoped it would make a difference. The last time she’d checked, her temperature had reached one hundred point five degrees. Based on what she knew from the past two days in the ER, she had another twelve hours before they’d need to strongly consider locking her up—or kicking her off campus.
Chapter 39
A young woman, clutching a young boy, held the door open and nodded directly at David, leaving hi
m no opportunity to continue lingering. He’d arrived in the atrium, a massive glass enclosure adjacent to the outdoor garden, where at least half of the funeral attendees had paid their respects to Dan’s wife and kids. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t walk through the door on his own. He kept edging toward it and backing away as the people trickled past him on their way back to the cafeteria.
David wasn’t sure why he was having such a hard time with this. He’d been to several funerals for officers killed in the line of duty before. Never an easy thing to do, but he’d always opened the door to the funeral home and fearlessly walked inside. It was part of the job, and it was expected. Just like this. Then why was he having so much trouble? He knew the answer. Guilt.
Guilt for having made it through the fence. Guilt for not having taken Howard’s position by the gate and insisting that he go through first. Guilt for not having been able to keep him safe inside the turnstile. Guilt. And it didn’t end there. It fed on itself, getting stronger by the minute. If he didn’t do this now, he’d probably never do it. Guilt had a way of putting your life on hold.
He smiled at the mother and put a hand on the door. “Thank you. I’ve been standing in here for five minutes, hoping this wasn’t real.”
“I only saw him once,” she said. “When we first arrived. He took our temperatures and told us everything would be okay here. I never even knew his name. He could have sent us away. My husband was the one that worked for NevoTech.”
David knew he should politely nod and walk through the door, but he couldn’t. She wouldn’t have brought it up if she didn’t want to talk to someone about it.
“Is your husband here?” he said, mouthing it quietly.
“He’s on a business trip,” she said, her eyes indicating something very different.
“Well, I’m sure he’ll find you guys soon enough,” said David. “My wife’s on a business trip, too. Kind of glad she was out of town for this. Shouldn’t be long until everyone can go home.”
She smiled, her eyes watering. “Did you hear that, Ben? This man is a police officer. He knows things.”
Her son looked up at him with an exhausted, frightened face. The faintest sparkle of hope crossed his face when David smiled at him. He’d forgotten that he’d pinned his badge to the outside of his tactical vest. Howard had suggested he do this, to give people a sense of law and order when they saw him in the building.
KILL BOX: A Post-Apocalyptic Pandemic Thriller (The Zulu Virus Chronicles Book 2) Page 19
