by M. L. Banner
“What do you mean?” she said, barely looking at him.
Ted just glared at her incredulously.
TJ gave a slight nod. “It’s the only reason I survived the fall. I can’t explain how it happened, though I’m pretty sure I know why...”
Ted folded his arms around his chest and tried to patiently listen to all his wife had to say, though his mind was darting in a thousand directions, filling up with thousands upon thousands of questions he wanted to ask her.
“It was that dog mauling. That’s how I must have contracted the parasite, from that bite. I’d never had cats, and since the dog bite, you know I haven’t spent much time around animals much. And you also know I don’t eat my steaks raw, at least until now...” She paused again, like she was considering a new thought that hadn’t occurred to her until this very moment.
“Yeah... So, I didn’t tell you everything about that day. Mostly because I didn’t want to remember it. But after I was mauled by that dog, I had to put the perp down—”
“—You told me that already,” Ted cut in. This was going too slow. And he desperately needed to ask her some of his questions, if she wasn’t going to cover them.
“I didn’t tell you about the dog and its master’s eyes. They both had red eyes! The target of our investigation had gone crazy. And like his dog, he had rushed me with the intent of killing me. That’s why I shot him. This parasitic thing had been going on for a long time before today, Ted. It’s just this current iteration with the volcanoes that’s new.”
He thought about this for a moment and then asked his question again, “So again I ask, how are you? What I mean is do you feel like you want to kill?”
TJ cast her rufescent gaze downward before looking back up again. It was obvious she didn’t want to answer this question.
“Most of the time.” Her brow furrowed, and her lips pouted, then quivered. “I go from calm one moment to nearly insane with rage the next, and I want to kill everyone who isn’t like me...” Her eyes welled up.
“But not now?” He felt like he was breathing almost as heavily as his wife was right now.
Her eyes sparkled through her tears, like two rubies drowning in the deep end of a bright pool. “No, but I fear it will happen at any moment. And when it does, I feel sure I won’t be able to regain control again, especially around you, or others.”
Ted noticed movement and saw Al was standing nearby, listening intently. He was waiting his turn to say something.
Seeing now that they both acknowledged him, Al held out a thermometer and said, “With the dogs, when their temperature had dropped below 99 degrees, they were no longer enraged and aggressive. I’ve wondered about body temperatures and this disease after speaking with Chloe Barton, the ship’s nurse, who said she picked up the thermometer of one of her patients, who had gone from calm to crazy, when it had dropped out of the patent’s mouth. She told me it had read 99.5 degrees, a low fever. So I’m wondering, miss... Could I take your temperature?”
TJ drew the backs of her hands over her eyes to wipe away her tears. Then she straightened up against the wall. “Tell me this one hasn’t been used on a dog.” She flashed him a weak grin.
“No worries. Just sterilized and previously only touched by human mouths.”
She accepted it onto her tongue and clamped her jaw down.
Ted thought she was probably glad to have accepted the thermometer, if only to not have to answer any more difficult questions at this moment. He then noticed Dr. Molly Simmons, the parasitologist he’d met after his talk, and the one who shared with him the fact about the thermophilic bacteria. She had made her way to them and was listening in on their conversation. Ted also noticed everyone else in that room was silent and staring at TJ.
“Hello, Mr. Bonaventure,” Dr. Simmons said, looking much older than when he’d last seen her.
“Ted, please, Dr. Simmons.”
“Molly is fine, as well. I suspect your wife’s temperature is below 99 degrees now. But I also suspect when her temperature rises above this level, she’ll feel those urges again to kill. I believe that’s the T-Gondii working with the thermophilic bacteria. The thermophilic bacteria are attracted to mammals with a temperature of 99 degrees and above. Further, I believe the thermophilic bacteria cause a fever as well. And when the affected mammal is already infected with T-Gondii, it also wakes up the parasite, which as you know has already rewired the brain of its mammal-host. And that’s when that mammal changes, and becomes symptomatic, and that’s when the mammal appears to become what you think is crazy.”
“What else are they, if not crazy?” asked Jean Pierre, who was now part of their little group surrounding TJ.
“This is all part of their new genetic makeup: to kill those who are a threat, and to do so without fear and the ability to suppress pain, so that it can do its job more efficiently. And then of course, to eat,” Molly answered, sounding detached, as if she were reading this from a textbook.
“That’s enough,” Al said, holding out his fingers to her. “Let’s see what your temp is now.”
TJ pulled the thermometer out of her mouth, glanced at it and then handed it to Al, who squinted to make sure he read it right, before announcing to all of them, “98.8.”
TJ’s eyes snapped back to Ted, sparkling and bright. If it weren’t for the red irises, they appeared otherwise normal. They now possessed an aura of excitement. Yes, he knew this look to mean she’d just figured something out.
She turned her head to Molly and Al, and then to Jean Pierre, and then back to Ted. She smiled a chasm-wide grin.
“I know how to save our ship.”
~~~
“You see,” she projected her voice out so that everyone in the room could hear her clearly, though it wasn’t needed because she was already the center of everyone’s attention, “it’s all about the body temperature. When the infected’s body temperature is above 99 degrees, they become symptomatic and aggressive toward anyone and anything not infected, just like the two doctors said. But when the infected’s temperature drops below 99 degrees, they lose much if not all of their aggression, even if they retain all of their other symptoms.”
TJ paused, but not for effect. She wanted to make sure everyone was keeping up with her and she just didn’t want to have to repeat herself again, if someone wasn’t paying attention.
“So all we have to do is drop the temperature of each infected to below 99 degrees.”
“How ve do that? Give every crazy cold drink?” Flavio asked. He had pulled alongside Ted and Molly.
“No Flavio, but if we could drop the air conditioning down low enough, that would drop their body temperatures below the 99-degree threshold.”
“That’s brilliant, my dear,” said Molly. “Just like you did with the fire extinguisher in the engine room.”
Ted frowned at TJ, like he wanted to ask her about this, but then turned to Jean Pierre. “Is the air conditioning working well enough to do this?”
Jean Pierre’s features twisted and turned, revealing a flurry of mental gymnastics. When TJ had worked with him on the Eloise Carmichael investigation, she remembered that look. He had the answer, he just wanted to make sure it was correct.
“Oui—I mean, yes!” Jean Pierre exclaimed, his face now animated. “Yes. We still have some other issues. But depending on where the crazies were, we could throttle the air conditioning down.”
Al asked, “Why can’t you turn the air conditioning down on the whole ship?”
“Not recommended. It would take a lot of fuel, and we have a very limited supply. But if we needed to...” Jean Pierre turned to TJ, “How low a temperature would we need, and for how long?”
TJ shrugged. “Don’t look at me; I just came up with the plan.”
“Molly?” Ted begged.
“I was just thinking about this. Based on what Al told me about the dogs getting locked in the refrigerated storage room, which is at what temperature, Staff Captain, normally?”
“I believe it was four degrees, or rather, about 40 degrees Fahrenheit. But I’m not sure I can get the room temperature down to forty degrees with our systems, and definitely not for long.”
“Forty would be better, but I’m thinking forty-five or even fifty degrees, for about an hour, should do it.”
Jean Pierre paced to the conference table, pulled out his walkie and called into it. Although it appeared that he did this to make his conversation more private, TJ could hear the conversation clearly on Ted’s radio, which must have been monitoring the same channel.
“Buzz and Jessica, this is Jean Pierre.”
“Yes, sir,” Buzz crackled back.
“I’m here, sir,” Jessica responded.
“I need to know, without a doubt, if we can run the air conditioning in multiple areas of the ship and drop the temp to below ten degrees? This is a priority.”
“Aye, sir,” Buzz chirped back. “We’ll get working on it immediately.”
“Thanks. Deep, you got your ears on too?” Jean Pierre moved the walkie from his mouth to his ear.
“Still on watch, sir.”
“Any sign of the parasitics?”
“Not a thing, sir.”
“Fine, call me the moment you see something.” Jean Pierre adjusted his volume up and clipped the radio to his belt and marched back to the group.
“What do you mean, any sign of the crazies?” Ted asked.
Jean Pierre glared at him and then his walkie, catching on that his conversation was overheard.
“Yes, JP. You said earlier, depending on where the crazies were.” TJ’s hands were on her hips. “Do you not know where the parasitics are right now?”
“I didn’t want to frighten everyone, but no, we don’t know where they went. And I’m guessing for your plan to work, we need to find their location first, then make sure we get them to a secure area, then assuming the air conditioning works, then we drop the temp to around forty-five to fifty degrees for an hour. Then, we can regain control of our ship.”
TJ pushed from the wall. “Sounds like a good plan to me.”
75
Divide and Conquer
“So how are we supposed to find these things?” Wasano asked.
“Can’t you smell them, Mrs. Villiams?” Flavio insisted.
All eyes turned back to her. It was only then that most of them noticed she was wearing a nose plug.
“Actually, I can't smell them any better than you can. But I can smell those who are not infected.” She did not want to tell them anything more than this.
Molly perked up at this. “Okay, I'll bite... Ah, sorry dear. Tell me, what do we smell like?”
TJ looked down again at her feet. She could feel everyone’s gaze and she knew she was being obvious in avoiding Molly’s question. So she just blurted it out, not caring for a moment, until it came out. “Like the most wonderful food in the world.”
“That's some screwy shit,” someone in the back room blurted.
“Actually, no it’s not,” responded Molly. “In fact it makes perfect sense. There are many instances, like in the use of pheromones in insects, where smells are used for hunting.”
“Oy,” announced a large German, sitting on the couch Ted and David had been watching the television from, “why don't we let the Fräulein sniff out the ship while we sit here and wait.”
Jean Pierre scowled at the man before returning his attention back to TJ. “It's not a bad point. Can we use that ability to seek out the crazies? You know, if you smell someone or a group of someones, then obviously they're not a parasitic.”
She didn’t want to be having this conversation, not in front of her husband. The simple answer was yes, she could detect them or rather not detect them, and therefore know they weren’t in a location.
“Yes, I’m sure I can.”
“Sir," Wasano cut in, "the ship is a little too large for one person to sniff every single room or cabin. We have a lot of people waiting for us to get them to safety. And they’ve already been waiting for hours."
“You're right, of course. We’ll need to send more people.”
“Sir,” this time it was Flavio, “if any of these crazies smell people walking around, they could easily be overcome and hurt. Why don't we just kill every one of those crazies?” He glared at TJ. “No disrespect to you, Mrs. Villiams.”
“No!” TJ’s words leapt out. “No killing, unless it's to protect yourself. We treat these people like people who are sick—”
“—who want to fawking eat us,” the German yelled out again from the safety of his chair.
"Enough discussion. We’re going to break up into three groups: Flavio and Wasano, Paulo and Igor, TJ and me--"
“—I'm going with you,” Ted belted out, like a cough. “I've been separated from my wife, whom I thought was dead. I'm not letting her out of my sight now.”
“Sorry Ted, but no.” Jean Pierre placed his hand on Ted’s shoulder. “I'm afraid you're too slow and you’ll make too much noise with your bad ankle. It's a risk to all of us, and especially to you. I need you to stay and coordinate with Deep on the bridge radio. And to work with Jessica and Niki on the air conditioning. In fact, since I won’t be there, I’m going to instruct them to follow your lead on this.”
Ted nodded, seeming to accept his fate quickly enough. At his heart, he was a logical man, and pragmatic. He knew it was the right thing to do, even though he hated it.
“I'll go.” David stepped forward, but his wife immediately pulled him back.
“Oh no, you don't,” Evie demanded. “You're staying with me this time.”
David shrugged his shoulders and then mumbled something to her, and she smiled at him.
“Excuse me, Staff Captain,” Molly interrupted, her voice animated. “I suggest you have Hans go with one of your groups.”
Jean Pierre flashed a glare first at Molly and then at the German, who seemed just as shocked to be included. "I'm sorry Molly, but I don’t get why?”
"Yeah. Why would you listen to that old Jew?" yelled Hans, who stood up and squared his shoulders toward the group that wanted to send him out into harm’s way.
Molly smiled. “Because you're infected too. And so is your brother.”
All eyes drilled into the two Germans. A couple of passengers sitting near them shot up and moved away. Franz just sank into the seat lower, pulling the blanket he had been wearing over his head.
Hans took several steps forward, like he was about to pick a fight. “My eyes look red to you?”
“No, you’re not symptomatic. Not yet anyway. But I’ve seen how the parasitics react to you and your brother. They’re not interested in either of you, and you know this.”
Hans acted like he was sucker-punched.
Everyone was so focused on Hans, no one noticed TJ had left her space against the wall and was now standing in front of Hans. She pulled off her nose plug and made a loud sniffing sound. Then she did the same with Franz, before walking back. "Yep, they’re infected," she exclaimed.
“Fine! Yes, I know both of us are... infected.” He said this like it hurt him. “And it sucks, by the way, because I no longer have an appetite for my favorite food."
“Okay then. If both you Litz boys go with our search parties, I’d be happy to ignore all of the illegal liquor and drugs you brought on board,” Jean Pierre commanded.
“Like—like you're really worried about the rules now,” Hans stuttered.
“No, I’m not. But at this point I'd be happy to dump you two overboard, for whatever reason I come up with.”
Hans scowled at the staff captain, considering whether or not he meant it, and then let his head fall forward. “Fine, we’ll go. Come on, Franz.” He beckoned his brother to stand up.
Conversations erupted, like little wildfires: several expressed the same concern that an infected could be any one of them and that it was impossible to tell. While discussions were escalating, Jean Pierre grabbed the big German by the arm and pulled him
to the group surrounding TJ. He instructed Franz to go with his guards, Igor and Paulo. Hans would be with Flavio and Wasano. He stated something about Wasano not taking any shit from the German and he would keep him in line.
Before exiting the cabin, Jean Pierre gave instructions for everyone to remain behind the cabin door. He asked David and Molly to assist Ted in the bridge and his two remaining officers to monitor the cabin and bridge doors, and just outside, in case anyone else showed up and wanted in.
Jean Pierre then requested his volunteers meet him outside the cabin, while he updated Jessica and Niki on the bridge with their plan.
Ted grabbed TJ’s hand and cupped her face with his other hand.
“I’ll be fine,” she said, her voice soft and emotional.
“I just don’t want to lose you again.” He leaned in and kissed her.
She accepted, but immediately pulled back.
Even though she had her nose plug on, she could taste him. And she felt an evil urge rise up from the dark reaches of her psyche. She wanted to kiss him, but something even more that she dare not think about.
“Let me do what I can, so we can get through this crisis,” she said. Pulling her hand from his, she stepped out the door.
76
Hiding Places
A ding announced their arrival on deck 8. The elevator doors slid open with a slow growl, or at least it sounded that way. Once open, a blast of light from the late-afternoon sun shot in and they had to shield their faces. Hans pressed his hands against his eyes, acting like he was suffering from a nasty headache. Then they heard the sound once more, only fainter.
“Did you hear that?” Hans whispered, shirking back into the elevator. “It sounded like one of those damned dogs. I hate dogs.”
“You people have German Shepherds and you’re scared of dogs?” Flavio humphed. He stepped out into the hallway, not even waiting for an answer. His fingers squeezed tight around the smaller end of the club—more like a table leg—that Ted had given him. It wasn’t as hefty as his wrench, but since he’d lost that, it would have to do.