by Tara Ellis
“Stop pacing,” he has the nerve to say to me.
Turning on him, my eyes must reflect my fury because he actually flinches. “What is it that you would like me to do then, Seth?” I sneer. “Because it’s pretty much the only thing keeping me from tearing things apart in here!” Getting off the bed, he walks to the far end of the room and turns to stare out the large window facing the observation area. There are several workers at desks in there, all of them looking up every few minutes to study us: charting, recording, and whispering.
“Zane will show up soon and we’ll get some answers,” he says with a degree of confidence not appropriate for the situation.
Gnashing my teeth together, I drop to my knees next to Chris. He’s in and out of consciousness now, his fever raging. One of the nurses came in a few minutes ago and gave him some medicine for it, but so far, there isn’t any change. She kept a wide berth from Seth and me and insisted she didn’t know anything when we bombarded her with questions.
I’ve already decided that the next time someone comes in I’m going to overpower them and get out of here. I can easily escape. There’s no way in hell I’m going to just sit by and watch Chris turn into a Shiner. Where’s my Mom? Where’s Lisa, Chris’s Mom? Wouldn’t they come here immediately upon our arrival?
I’ve barely finished this thought when a crackling sound from overhead alerts us to the intercom being activated. “You have visitors. Please come over to the window. You will be able to see and speak with them there, but are not allowed any contact.”
My hopes surging, I hurry to where Seth is standing and eagerly search the large room beyond. Where are they? My fingers pressed to the glass, I feel like a gerbil but don’t care. Let them all stare at me. Then a door opens near the nurse’s station opposite us, and a sight I have dreamed of seeing for the past six days is fulfilled. Mom, Jake, Lisa, Missy’s Mom Cindy, and little sister Natalie. All of them are here. Closing the door behind them is the imposing figure of Senator Zane, his tall and astute form noticeably changing the demeanor of those in the room. The boss is here.
Mom rushes forward, crying, and places her hands on the other side of the glass, matching them up with my own. “Oh, Alex!” she sobs, sliding down to the floor. Zane is immediately at her elbow, supporting her. Concerned, I squat down to stay at eye-level with her and look at the senator questioningly.
“She hasn’t hardly eaten or slept since we lost contact with you,” he explains, gently pulling her blonde hair away from her face. “She’s just exhausted, but she’ll be okay now.”
“Where’s Baxter?” Jacob demands, tears threatening to spill over. “And what’s happened to your eyes now? They changed again!”
“Where’s Missy?” Cindy yells at the same time, alarmed.
“Chris!” Lisa calls, straining to see him in the bed. “What’s wrong with him, Alex? Why isn’t he answering?”
It’s too much. Falling back from the glass, I land on my rear and cover my face with my hands. The incredible stress from the past six days threatens to overwhelm me. I don’t know if I can face all the questions, demands, and suspicion. Not now, not on my own.
“Whoa! Give the girl a break here, okay? One thing at a time.” The voice of reason surprises me, and I’m further confused when Seth places a hand on my shoulder for emphasis. The contact is not normal. I associate it with struggle and fear, not caring or friendship. I start to instinctively pull away, but his hand clamps down, not letting me go without a fight. I don’t have it in me. Giving in, my shoulders slump, and he moves behind me. Catching me under the arms, he easily lifts me up off the floor and then keeps an arm around my waist for support.
“Chris has been infected,” he says bluntly to Lisa. The devastation on her face is more than I expect. She was a heroin addict before The Shining. One of the common side effects after recovering from the Holocene virus for anyone who had addictions was a dulling of emotions. Chris got his mom back from the drugs, but not all of her. There’s been a slow, gradual improvement in the weeks after, but this is still a huge leap. Encouraged by this, I take a deep breath and step forward.
“Lisa, we were ambushed. Chris tried to fight them off, but there were too many of them. It’s been around nineteen hours now. I think if we can get him the antiviral meds in the next five hours he could still recover.” I hope I sound more confident than I feel. Based on her reaction, I don’t think I’ve convinced her.
Cindy moves closer and looks at me expectantly.
“Missy is fine,” I assure her quickly, attempting a smile. “She, Nate, Kyle, and Jim escaped before there was any chance of infection, and none of them are symptomatic.”
“Thank God,” she mutters, closing her eyes. Reaching out blindly, she rests her free hand on top of Natalie’s blonde head, pulling her close. “Sissy’s okay, Natalie.”
“Jim is with you? Where are they?” Zane inquires, helping my mom back to her feet. “Did anyone else come? And who are you, young man?”
Seth raises his eyebrows at me in response to the last question. I could swear he actually looks amused.
“Baxter is okay too, Jake,” I add hastily before addressing Senator Zane. My little brother is obviously relieved. He wipes at his nose but fights back tears, hoping no one notices his emotions. It’s increasingly important to him to appear mature, even though he’s only ten years old. He’s had to do a lot of growing up these past months.
“Jim is the only one of your men that came,” I continue, turning back to the senator. “Two of the other guys stayed at the ranch to keep things going, but the rest went home. We brought eight of your horses, including your favorite. They’re the only reason we were able to get here so quickly, or at all. The rest of our group is probably a few miles out still. We loaded them down with most of our gear so we could get Chris here faster.”
Nodding, the senator rubs his chin and then points a finger at Seth. “And him?”
“Well, that’s not so easy to explain…” I begin, my voice trailing off. Before I can come up with a gentle way to tell them, Seth speaks up.
“My name’s Seth. I’m the one who kidnapped Alex and helped infect her with the Nephi2 virus. My dad is one of the higher-ups in the Mudameere organization. Turns out I’m a Nephume too, and Alex and I shared some genetic memories when these Nephilim guys started getting close. I realized I’d been lied to my whole life about what the Mudameere’s true mission was so I jumped ship. That’s about it.”
There’s a very long, drawn-out pause as those on the other side of the glass look at each other in shock and then back at us. Groaning inwardly, I roll my eyes at Seth. “Really?” I mumble, chewing at my cheek. This is just great.
“Alex! Is that true?” Mom finally asks in alarm. “I want him taken out of there at once!” she demands, grabbing Zane’s arm.
“No, Mom. It’s okay,” I say tiredly. “Really. It’s a bit more complicated than that, but you just have to trust me on this one. What’s most important right now is where the antiviral meds are.” There are so many more questions, like what the EMP really was, how widespread the effects of the Nephi2 virus are, and more. But all of that can wait.
“That’s why it took us so long to get here,” she tells me, letting the Seth thing go for now. “They wouldn’t let us come see you until Zane got back. He was out with a scouting party trying to look for any signs of a group from the lab.”
“And?” I ask him hopefully.
Shaking his head, Zane runs his hands through his thick, grey hair. “We didn’t see anyone, but the shortwave picked up some sort of traffic right before the base notified me of your arrival. I left them to get back here as fast as possible, but I haven’t heard of any updates.”
“How far does the radio reach?” Seth inquires, going back to the cot and stretching out again.
“Unknown,” he answers bluntly. “We haven’t had the means to test it yet. However, the farthest we’ve gotten from the base is twenty miles, and it barely reached us at th
at distance. How about Nator?” he asks me, switching topics for a second time.
How to explain this one? I quickly say something … anything, to prevent Seth from jumping in with what’s sure to be an inflammatory version. “I spoke to him; he really does exist. But we won’t get any help from his community of Nephilim. I did bring my cousin back with me though,” I hastily add when I see his expression change. “It’s a long story, and I promise to explain it in more detail later, but his name is Benuk and I think he’s going to be a huge asset in a fight against RA.”
Before he can respond, there’s a commotion in the hallway outside the door behind me. Turning toward it, I hear a jumble of voices move past and then the door in the observation room flies open and Nate, Kyle, Missy, Jim, and Benuk all crowd in.
The ensuing chaos causes me to retreat to the edge of the cot next to Seth, facing Chris. I watch him breathe for a while as everyone greets each other and reunites on the other side of the glass behind me. Exhaustion, both physical and mental, claws at me and I struggle to stay focused. How long has it been now? Nineteen, twenty hours? Or could it even be twenty-one? Chris’s eyes flutter open and briefly focus on me.
“I’m here,” I whisper, taking one of his hands.
“Alex?” he moans. “Where are we?”
“We made it to the base, Chris. Your mom is here, and we’re going to get you the medicine. I promise. I’m not leaving you. Not ever, no matter what happens.” His hand weekly squeezes mine as his eyes close again.
“Alex!” at first I ignore Zane, almost in a trance as I watch the rise and fall of my friend’s chest. “Alex, we’ve gotten another transmission!” Jerking to attention, I walk back to the glass, comforted to see Cindy and Natalie holding on tight to Missy, her blonde hair sticking out wildly from under the straps of her full-face mask.
“The group that brought your friends back intercepted the message. It was the men from the lab, Alex. They have the medicine. It’ll be here in a couple of hours.”
NINE
The other half of our group is eventually led into their own quarantine room so they can escape the uncomfortable respirators. Dr. Paul seems freaked out that they were even allowed into the observation room first. Although none of them are showing any signs of being sick, they have a strict rule in place that they hold all incoming from beyond their ‘dead zone’ for forty-eight hours. This should ensure the Nephi II Virus doesn’t make its way unknowingly onto the base. We tried to convince them that Seth and Benuk are immune like me, but they aren’t willing to budge on protocol. I wouldn’t have left Chris anyway.
“I don’t know if I can stand being down here for twenty-four hours, let alone forty-eight,” Seth says from the corner, where he’s been sulking for the past hour. “I feel like I’m in a cave.” I haven’t really paid attention to it, but now that he points it out, I guess it must be pretty dark in here for everyone else. Electricity is scarce and therefore valuable. The overhead lights are off and instead, they have portable lights scattered around. I assume they’re being run off solar-charged batteries. The two in our room have already started to grow dimmer since we got here.
“You’ll live,” I answer unsympathetically.
Senator Zane immediately approved more resources for Chris’s care, and a portable monitor was brought in, as well as IV fluids. The Ibuprofen is finally helping the fever. Combined with the IV, he’s more lucid but still miserable. His cough is worse and I asked for several pillows so I can prop him up. I don’t know why they can’t manage to find a real bed for him.
The wall opposite the observation room also has a window, but about half the size. When they turned the lights on beyond it, we discovered it was another room like ours. This is where Missy, Kyle, Nate, Benuk, and Jim are crammed in now, and I feel sorry for them. It’s a bigger space than we’re in, but it’s still too small.
Chris’s cot is only a couple of feet from the shared wall, so Missy and I have been talking through it. I have no problem hearing, but I have to speak loudly for her. I’ve learned the rest of their journey here was uneventful for them but the soldiers who met them told stories of the rapidly spreading illness.
I think it’s been over two hours since Zane announced the meds were on their way. Lisa wanted to suit up and come in to be by her son’s side, but they wouldn’t allow it. Apparently, there are only a few medical personnel here with the proper training to come into such a high-risk environment. Every time they come and go there’s a decontamination process they have to go through. Unless everything is done correctly, the rest of the base is at risk. I understand why they have to be so careful, but I feel horrible for Lisa. Our families have taken up camp in the observation room, just as desperate as we are for the possible cure to get here in time.
“How come the monitor and other electronics are still working?” I look over to see Seth directing his question at Zane. The two of them are standing opposite each other at the window.
“Anything from sub-floor three and down was shielded. All of the electronic components above us are fried,” he explains.
“So the rest of the base is in the dark?” I ask, curious. Even though most everyone has been without electricity on and off for a few weeks now, there are still other ways to cope: propane, gas, hydroelectric, solar panels, and batteries. Even in small quantities, these things can power some devices for limited amounts of time. But now, even if you have gas, the generator won’t run and the inner workings of a solar panel are toast.
“All of our survival gear was stored down here,” Zane continues. “Including several industrial-sized solar panels and hundreds of lights, like the ones in your room. Each household has been issued two to three lights and they swap them out daily for charging.”
“How many?” the voice behind me is unexpected and I turn to find that Chris has managed to prop himself up on an elbow. “How many civilians are here?”
“Just under five hundred,” Zane responds, shaking his head. “One-fifth of the population before the original outbreak. We’ve moved them all to the centrally located neighborhoods so it’s easier to keep track of everyone. So far, they’re handling this as well as can be expected. We’ve assigned various tasks such as working the gardens and helping with the livestock, to try and make us as self-sufficient as possible.”
“What about military personnel?” Benuk inquires. Apparently, the intercom works in both rooms and the other group is also following the conversation.
“Just under three-hundred,” Zane tells him. “Not enough to manage this base, but we are obviously not running at full capacity. All non-essential programs were canceled weeks ago. Since the EMP, the only functional operations center is down here. All other hands have been put on containment.”
“That’s nearly a thousand mouths to feed,” Chris manages to say before another coughing fit hits him. Lying back against the pillows, he closes his eyes again.
“There were enough emergency rations stored down here to feed the residents for six months,” Zane assures us. “With the drastic reduction in numbers, we have more than enough to get by for nearly a year.”
“Oh! You don’t really think we’ll be here for that long, do you?” Cindy asks anxiously, holding a very tired Natalie in her lap. I almost forgot our families are still here, they’ve been quiet for so long.
“I hope not, Cindy, but we have to prepare for the worst.” Turning back to Seth, Zane folds his arms across his chest. “Perhaps you would be willing to debrief me on your knowledge of the Mudameere tactics once you get out of there?”
“Well, of course, sir,” Seth says a bit too politely. “And how long do you think that might be? Because technically, I was exposed to this thing about twenty-four hours ago, so I really should be let out of this torture chamber in another twenty-four, not forty-eight.”
At this comment, Chris’s eyes fly open again in alarm. “Twenty-four?” he gasps, trying to push himself back up.
“It hasn’t been that long,” I say q
uickly, giving Seth a dirty look. “Maybe twenty hours or twenty-one…”
“…Or twenty-three, twenty-four,” Seth interrupts. “There really isn’t any point in sugar coating it, doll.”
I react without even a thought. Springing to my feet with inhuman speed, I’m over the empty cot separating us, and inches from Seth’s face in a heartbeat. “Shut up!” I whisper through clenched teeth. “And you haven’t earned the right to give me a pet name!”
The abrupt silence emitted from the intercom draws my attention and I turn to see everyone in the observation room frozen, staring at me, especially the white-clad nurses and doctors. My physical agility display clearly made an impression. As I look at each of them in turn, I see fear register on their faces and I suddenly realize that in this low light my eyes have to be glowing quite impressively. Closing them, I chastise myself for letting Seth get to me, and I take a deep breath.
“I’m sorry,” I exhale, stepping back from a grinning Seth, and turn to face the glass. “I haven’t slept much lately and I’m not quite…myself.” Well, that didn’t help. “Look, I’m not a Shiner, okay?” I try again, speaking directly to the nurse seated nearest the window. “I’m just…something else.” Seth chuckles at the nurse’s reaction to this dismal attempt of reassurance and I decide to give up.
“Alex,” Seth says to my back. “Chris doesn’t want lies. He deserves to know the truth.”
I know he’s right, but I don’t think I can handle the truth right now. Going back to Chris, who’s been watching us silently, I sit down, defeated. “I’m not really sure how long it’s been, Chris. But it’s going to be close. Really close.” My voice breaks with the last words, and he reaches out to take my hand.
“Alex, will you take care of my mom?” he asks weakly. Nodding, I place my forehead on his chest, still not believing this is happening. After a minute, he gently cups my face and then lifts it up, his lips finding mine for the briefest of moments. “Don’t let me live as a Shiner, Alex,” he says into my hair, only loud enough that I can hear him.