“Good. Estelle and I might be able to hammer out ideas for what you’d need to do to distill crude oil into something useful. If you can fill in the blanks and then translate theory to reality, then we might not be as bad off moving forward,” she said. A sly grin crept across her features. “I love this shit.”
“It’s a challenge, isn’t it?” I asked.
“That’s precisely it,” she replied. “You’ve nailed why I went into forensic pathology, and why this damned virus is the most frustrating thing I’ve ever investigated.”
“You can’t crack it?”
“No,” she scowled. “I think we managed to isolate the dead virus in the cells we collected. However, the RNA had degraded to the point that we couldn’t sequence it. What’s more, it seems to activate some sort of cell wall and biochemical change after the host dies that virtually eliminates decay and preserves the body. The only way it could work is with aerosol transfer and a long asymptomatic period.”
“Estelle thinks it might be engineered,” I offered.
“She could be right,” Gwen said. “There are a lot of diseases out there that are terrifyingly effective at killing. Fortunately, not all of them affect humans. Those that do seem to be a bit more limited in how they pass around.”
“Ebola, bubonic plague, rabies,” I rattled off a few that I knew.
“Leprosy, syphilis, viral and bacterial meningitis,” she added. “Not to mention diseases we have vaccines for.”
“HIV,” I tossed in.
“That’s an interesting case,” she said. “All of these have different transmission vectors. Some are viruses, some are bacteria, and some are retrovirii. All are potentially or inevitably fatal. Yet as we discover more about them, we are able to apply that understanding to mitigating their symptoms and beating them back.”
“A lot depends, also, on how quickly the body adapts to fight each one. There are specifics to fighting everything, and it was my job to discover the cause and work with the team to devise a methodology to aid in fighting it off,” she gazed up at me. “I know it doesn’t matter, but what if this thing comes back? I have to ask that question every time I look around. Whenever someone gets the sniffles, I have to check for some unknown source. Fortunately, though, while we’ve had several colds and a burgeoning allergy season, no one has developed an unknown disease that went from presenting as a seasonal cold to fatal in the span of a few days.”
“Kind of like Captain Trips or something from Robin Cook, huh?”
Gwen nodded at me.
“Exactly,” she replied. “But now it’s gone. Like the dinosaurs, it’s vanished, leaving behind only dry and mostly useless skeletons.”
“Care to expand your knowledge?” I asked.
She shot me a curious look.
“How do you mean?”
“Well,” I said. “Mostly, you’ve worked on humans. Moving forward, we need that kind of knowledge about our animals, too, along with ways to create vaccines for both us and them once the stored ones run out.”
“The flu vaccine is pretty much useless from season to season,” she mused. “Henry, are you asking me to develop ways to vaccinate survivors using surplus and homemade equipment?”
“Um,” I said. “Yes?”
She laughed.
“Challenge accepted,” the black-haired, green-eyed woman tossed her braid. “Thank you.”
“Anytime,” I told her.
“I’m looking forward to joining you all out at the farm,” she said, showing no sign of leaving. Bruce walked out of the building, talking animatedly with Bob Finley, and the pair of them made for Philip’s post.
“I’m glad, so many folks are coming,” I said. “Especially you.”
She arched an eyebrow and regarded me, then smiled faintly while her eyes sparkled.
“Especially me?” she asked coyly. “Whatever for?”
And I’d done it again. Too much knowledge in the hands of Henry Forrest was a dangerous thing. I hemmed and hawed for a minute, then sighed.
“Estelle hinted at-” I begin.
“Ah-hah!” Gwen interrupted, crowing with laughter. “Stop right there and tell me no more. Anything that Doctor White may or may not have hinted at has yet to be consummated. Time will tell all.”
With those words, she smiled and winked at me, then turned and sauntered back towards the building with a rather exaggerated sway of her hips.
Gwen had a really nice ass.
I closed my eyes and forced my libido back down. Estelle had managed to wake it back up in all of its raging glory, and I needed to tamp that down. At least until I got back to the farm and had Jackie, Angie, and Estelle all together in the bedroom. I wouldn’t object to Gwen, either, provided the others didn’t mind. Assumptions had grown unsafe, though, so I figured I’d just make sure when the time arose.
Gathering myself, I started off across the field to the guardpost, curious about what might have been said. From here, the conversation looked to have lost its earlier animation, which suggested that Bruce might be safe from the acting director’s wrath.
All three of them stopped and watched me approach.
“Hi,” I said.
“You seemed to be busy,” Bob said with a smile. “Bruce was unhappy that I didn’t allow him to disturb you.”
I looked from one man to the other and said, “Thanks, I think.”
“What do you need me to do?” Phil broke in. “Now that I know about them, it’s going to be hard to play the part of an ignorant gate guard.”
“Just go about your business as usual,” Doctor Finley said before Bruce could open his mouth. “Be the paranoid gate guard. If they think we suspect anything, it might lure them to act, or, hopefully, retreat.”
“Nothing would make me happier,” Bruce grumbled. “Anyway, we’re going to head out first thing in the morning to, what, Fort McPherson?” He looked over at me.
“McPherson closed some years back,” I said. “Tyler Perry bought part of it to make a movie studio.”
Bruce opened his mouth, but I stopped him by continuing. “The National Guard has a big base up in northwest Atlanta, though. They’ve got aircraft as well as the usual training materiél. That might be our best bet for collecting a helicopter and fuel.”
The old survivalist closed his mouth with a snap and just nodded.
“Great,” I said, smiling at Bob and Phil. “I’m going back inside to relax in pleasant, environmentally controlled surroundings after I call homestead on the radio. Maybe I’ll talk to Penny and Gene about drones.”
25
Estelle managed to requisition a room for both of us, and we retreated for an early bedtime. Fortunately, she’d had the foresight to set us up away from the dorms the rest of the CDC group claimed.
She wasn’t quiet.
The next morning we woke in a comfortable tangle that took a few minutes to escape, especially considering that neither of us could resist having another go. We had a hot shower together, then wandered down for breakfast. I wasn’t really in that much of a hurry to head to the Guard base, but Bruce probably wasn’t going to give me all day to get up the gumption to do this.
“Good morning, sleepyheads,” the old survivalist sat nursing a pot of coffee while Gene kicked back nearby with a mug of his own.
Penny sat off to the side with her drone, checking the charge and testing the connection to her cellphone while Michelle sat and watched her curiously. They spoke back and forth occasionally.
Estelle just flashed a satisfied smile and headed for the breakfast bar where Jeremy stood grinning. I just grunted and followed. A few minutes later, sausage, eggs, and toast piled on our plates, we joined the others.
“Where’s Bill?” I asked first off.
“He had breakfast and went off with Doctor Finley,” Gene answered. “He’ll be back, then we can leave once you’ve had breakfast.”
I nodded.
“Okay, so,” I said. “Helicopter, tanker trucks, and any other gear
we can load up?”
“That’s the plan,” Bruce nodded emphatically. “Bill will have to drive my truck, while you and I handle the tankers and Gene takes the helicopter.”
“Aww,” said the big man. “No one wants to fly with me?”
“If we had someone else to drive a truck,” I said. “I’d love to.”
“We do have some other possibilities,” Bruce said thoughtfully. “The precinct office here had some fairly nice gear, and the Atlanta Police Department headquarters should have at least one helicopter.”
I shrugged.
“Maybe so,” Gene said. “But the Guard outpost is a lot more likely to have tanker trucks and long-term storage for any sort of kerosene-based aviation fuel. It’s kind of a shame the airport caught on fire. I’d have much preferred to start there.”
“I thought you didn’t want variety,” I said with a smile.
“I just said I’d have to figure out anything that wasn’t an old Huey,” he protested. “That’s what I spent the most time in during ‘Nam.”
“That’s not exactly what I heard,” Estelle teased.
I laughed and shook my head.
“It’s fine,” I said. “We’ll find you something that suits.”
“Shall I get the pilgrims ready to go in, let’s say, two days' time?” Doctor White asked. “We could do it sooner, but…”
Her voice trailed off, and we all looked up at the drone hovering almost silently above our heads, nearly dead center to the table.
“Penny,” Gene said reproachfully. “I told you to be careful with that thing inside.”
“I am,” the girl protested. “Can I take it outside?”
Gene sighed and looked at Estelle.
“Sure,” she replied. “Just be careful.”
“I’ll go with her,” Michelle offered.
“Thanks!” the teenager flew her drone over and landed it on her table before letting it spin down. She picked it up and almost ran out through the glass doors.
“Any pings?” I asked.
“They’re back over there,” Bruce answered, gesturing towards the apartments where we’d spotted the camera. “At least as far as the motion sensors say.”
“So they’ll watch us go,” I said flatly. “At least everyone is warned.”
“And there’s only three of them,” Gene added.
“That we know of,” I threw in. “Alright, then. Let’s get this show on the road.”
“About time,” Bruce said with a grin.
“You boys have fun,” Estelle added. “I’m going to sit here and enjoy some coffee, maybe talk with Jeremy and Gwen a bit.”
“See you soon,” I told her and leaned over for a kiss.
She returned it, smiled, and went back to her breakfast while those of us who were heading out on this expedition went outside. Bill nodded from where he watched Penny flying her drone. Michelle stood with him, arms crossed, watching as well, but keeping a safe distance.
We might need to pick up a few of those from the Best Buy in Opelika once we got back. They’d certainly be useful for aerial spotting and reconnaissance around the homestead.
Bruce waved to the other man as he, Gene, and I trooped towards the big green truck. Bill said something to the girl who waved at us for a moment as he hurried off after us.
A few minutes later, we were rumbling towards the gate. The truck braked to a stop while Phil hit the open cycle. Then we were on our way.
“Anyone know the best way to reach this place?” I asked. “This GPS seems really out of date.”
“It’s fine,” Bruce grumped. “What’s the address of this place we’re going?”
“I don’t think any of us know,” I replied. “None of us are from here.”
“I can get us there,” Bill said. “You want to get on 285, then exit to Cobb Parkway going north. It’ll be maybe five miles or so up on the left.”
“Well,” Bruce said. “Isn’t that easy?” He ground the gears a bit as he shifted up, and the truck bounced but kept running. “Where’s 285?”
I groaned inwardly.
“Go that way,” Bill pointed. “See, I am from here.”
“I was just here visiting family,” Gene said. “This city gets me lost every damn time.”
“Speaking of,” I focused on the biker. “Your granddaughter seems to be handling things okay.”
He nodded. We both ignored Bruce and Bill as they bickered over directions.
“She’s a good kid,” he said. “I think the fact I was there kind of helped her through. At least, I like to think so.”
“She any good at teaching people how to use those drones?” I asked.
“I learned,” he said. “Truth be told, I like gadgets as much as the kids all did. Video games, the Internet, all that shit.”
“I was kind of a technophile, too,” I said. “More into cars and engines than games and stuff, though. Still, you two might be able to help come up with upgrades for the farm once we get out there.”
Gene nodded his head. “I think we’d be happy to.”
“What the shit?” Bruce suddenly exclaimed, his eyes focused on the side mirror.
All of us that could twisted to look out through the open back of the deuce-and-a-half to see a military-style humvee, painted black, and complete with a roof gun, turn onto the road about a quarter-mile behind us and start accelerating.
There was a moment of chaos as Bill went for the floor while Gene pulled out a big Ruger revolver. I drew my own Les Baer, but I knew from experience that it wouldn’t be much of a match for the armored ATV behind us.
“Are these hostiles?” Bruce shouted as he hit the gas and angled the big truck down an on-ramp to I-285.
“I guess we’re about to find out,” I snapped as they came after us.
“Stay low, everyone,” the survivalist said. “Tailgate’s reinforced, same with the seatbacks. If that’s a .50, though, it won’t help too much.”
“That’s really damn comforting,” I snapped.
That was when the man behind the machinegun started firing. Bruce had already committed to evasive action, so the first bursts missed us. I leaned around and fired a couple of shots over Gene’s and Bill’s heads, but there was little chance of their hitting. I just hoped to keep the gunner’s head down.
Gene popped up a moment later, and his big hand cannon boomed. Once again, there was no visible effect.
“Got anything bigger back here, old man?” the biker demanded. “.44 ain’t more than a peashooter against a standard armored humvee.”
“Can you take over?” Bruce looked over at me as he wobbled the big truck in an ‘S’ while the machinegun behind us chattered. Bullets punched through cloth, rattled against the armored tailgate, and sent us all slumping in our seats or huddling on the floor.
“Fine,” I said. “Move!”
I took the wheel as Bruce practically dove into the back seats, then slithered on past into the rear. The instant he was clear, I slid into the driver’s berth and hit the gas. More shots rang out, but the erratic movement of the truck put them into the passenger side. The mirror over there shattered and flew off of its mounting, vanishing behind us.
“What the hell?” Gene asked incredulously before he banged off a few more shots, emptying the cylinder of his revolver. I watched the humvee back off a bit in the rearview on my side. Hopefully, it would survive the next volley.
Bruce laughed maniacally, and I glanced back to see him standing, legs braced wide, behind that god-damned Gatling gun. As the humvee moved back into view of the tail of the deuce-and-a-half, he started cranking like a madman.
Pop-pop-popopopopop went the antique, spitting some kind of large round at our assailant. Armored glass splintered, and the humvee swerved as the driver reacted. He must have been caught by surprise. Bet he didn’t think that the Civil War-era weapon could even do anything to him. The gunner, though, wasn’t so lucky. Bruce didn’t stop firing as the vehicle swerved. He swiveled the Gatling to
his left, following it, and one, maybe two rounds caught the guy manning the machinegun.
He flopped around like a rag doll, then went over the far side of the ATV, and I lost sight of him for a moment as I swerved us back towards the center of the Interstate.
“45-70, you assholes!” Bruce shouted, pumping his fist. “If it’s good enough for an elephant, it’s good enough for you!”
He was definitely crazy, but I liked him anyway.
Behind us, the humvee started to accelerate again. Losing the gunner must have just pissed them off.
“They aren’t done yet,” Gene growled.
Somewhere back there, Bill whimpered. He obviously had never been under fire. Meanwhile, Bruce looked like he needed a cigar to chomp on as he re-aimed the Gatling and started banging off big, high-powered rounds in the direction of our attackers.
This time, though, they were ready. The driver had a better idea of the firing arc and knew that I was probably blind on the right. He swept off in that direction and accelerated. Moments later, more .50 rounds banged into the side of the deuce. It lurched as a tire went, but I didn’t lose control, and the tire didn’t go all the way flat. Everyone in the back hit the floor as I yanked the wheel hard to the right.
Maybe the gods of war smiled on desperate acts, or maybe I just got lucky, but I got a glimpse of the humvee’s driver’s surprised face as the big green truck plowed hard into him. The ATV turned away even sharper, then vanished out of my view.
“You got him!” Bruce shouted as I fought to get the truck back on track. A quick glance behind us showed me the humvee plowed hard into the retaining wall, smoke pouring from beneath its accordioned hood.
I hit the brakes and the clutch, popping the truck out of gear.
“I’ve got to check the damage,” I insisted as Bruce, his hat missing, but his sunglasses still perched jauntily on his face, clambered back into the front.
Gene talked reassuringly to Bill, a big hand resting on the younger man’s shoulder. Bruce just nodded to me, fished a plastic bag out of one of the three glove compartments on the passenger side of the truck, and handed it back.
Moments later, I made a face at the sound of vomiting. Then we stopped, and I shut down the engine and clambered out. Bruce followed.
After The Virus (Book 2): Homesteading Page 18