Those Who Remain (Book 3)

by Priscila Santa Rosa

  My hands are bloody. I feel something stuck between my teeth. Hair. My tongue tastes like copper. I shake my head and blink out tears. Tears? That’s when I hear it: my screams. No. Not my screams. I’m not the one screaming.

  Someone whimpers in the corner of the room. I laugh and charge at it. The person kicks me, but I don’t feel any pain. My hands reach for its neck. More kicks. I change tactics and pull it toward me by the feet. Screams again. This time, it punches me in the chest. I jump on it, pinning it down with my body’s weight, and then bite the neck, ripping the flesh. It tastes like the best thing I’ve ever tasted, even if I don’t remember tasting anything else.

  I bite the neck again. Then the cheek. Again and again. My teeth rattle when I reach the bone. Nobody screams anymore. It’s just me and the meat. Delicious, juicy meat.

  My head splits in two, a piercing headache clouding my vision. My red-and-black hands reach for the sides of my head. There’s no stopping the pain. What just happened? What the hell just happened?

  The door opens. I raise my head, but I still can’t see anything but blurry shadows. Two figures stride inside and reach the unmoving body next to me.

  “Wait... What’s... Did I do that? Did I do that?” They ignore my screams and lift the body. I crawl to them, holding the body down by the feet. “Wait. Wait... Who was it? Who did I kill?”

  It doesn’t have a face. I destroyed its face. It’s gone. Just bones, nerves, blood. One of the figures kicks me and uses a shock baton to keep me down.

  “Who was it?” I whimper. The door slams shut. “What did I do? What happened? Please! Who was that?”

  Nothing. Nobody. Just me, crying and curled up on the floor. I vomit sometime later. I want to clean myself, of the blood and everything else, so I use my bedsheets, scrubbing and scrubbing until the white sheet is as red as I was. The smell stays. The taste of copper lingers. My tongue feels the hairs and muscle, nerves still stuck between my teeth. I spit the ash-brown strands out, bile rising up in my throat. My hands shake, shivers running freely over my whole body. I’m sleepy, tired. Thoughts are murky, far away.

  I think I killed someone. I killed someone. Did I kill someone? Maria? Who?

  I hug my legs and rest my head on them. For the longest time, I don’t move. I don’t even think. Time passes. I’m alone. I’m alone and a monster. A killer. Deformed outside and inside.

  Time passes. I drift in and out of sleep, until I open my eyes to find my cell bathed in red light: the door is open. I wait. For Maria. For someone with a gun to kill me once and for all—and once again too. But nobody comes in. Slowly, muscles aching, I stand. I take a step forward. Not enough to exit the cell. Not nearly enough. But I want to. I want to reach the world outside, leave this nightmare behind and go home, but I’m too scared.

  Is it a test? A trap? Does it matter?

  THE DOCTOR XVI

  January 26th, Tuesday, 10 am

  Roger calls for Danny via intercom in a dark, cramped security room. We watch over a small camera as Danny reacts to his voice, searching for the source of the sound. When he finally answers Roger, the sheriff shifts in his seat and we share a smile. After lightly touching his shoulder, I leave the room to give them their privacy. Outside, Wikus and Prudence wait for news.

  “How did it go? Did Danny recognize his friend? How much does he remember? Perhaps his personality has changed due to the virus. It would be—”

  I stop Wikus with a raised hand. “They’re talking right now. But it looks like he remembers Roger. After Roger’s done, we should keep Danny under observation. His results show signs of anemia and various vitamin deficiencies, but in his condition, his stomach will be very sensitive so he’ll need a light diet with no solids, at least for the few first days.”

  “Yes, yes. It’ll also be important to avoid protein. We need to see if his cravings for meat have disappeared.” Wikus nods with excitement. He’s acting like a little boy who just got his Christmas present. I guess I should be feeling the same, but my guard is still up—as it should be. It’s hard to be optimistic after all I’ve been through.

  “Fine. I think vegetable soup will do for now. He’ll get hungry soon. Can anyone prepare that?”

  Prudence sighs. Since the operation, she has been quiet, guarded. “I guess that’s my cue. I’ll go tell the cook. When will Artie be back with us, Doc?”

  I bite my lip. “He hasn’t woken up yet, not fully. The pain is too much to bear. Progress will be slow. I’m sorry.”

  The short woman gives me a halfhearted shrug and disappears into a corner.

  “Is she okay?”

  “She’s fine.” Wikus tries to laugh it off, but he averts his eyes when I press him for a better answer. “What happened to Artie got us all worried. That much violence... I don’t think Prudence expected to see something like that in her whole life.”

  Welcome to the real world, I want to say, but it would be far too harsh, especially considering my own past actions.

  Roger exits the room, his hand on the back of his neck. He exhales deeply before speaking, “He’s—well, we talked. He’s Danny. I tried to explain to him what happened, but...”

  I reach for his arm. “Give him time to get used to the situation.”

  He nods. “What’s next? When will we be able to go home?”

  Dr. Ade widens his eyes, opening and closing his mouth like a fish. “Home? You can’t leave just yet. No, definitely not. Danny is still contagious. He’s still a vector and a carrier of the disease.”

  “Yeah, but he’s not going to bite anyone anytime soon. He’s back to normal, more or less.” Roger frowns and then crosses his arms over his chest. “You can’t keep him locked up for the rest of his life. We’ll just need to be careful.”

  Wikus gives me a pleading look, but I agree with Roger. “You have the cure, now you can start manufacturing it. Danny’s test results are encouraging. Surely a week of observation, at maximum, is enough.”

  There’s an awkward pause during which Wikus clears his throat and fidgets. “A week... That would work, I suppose. Provided he doesn’t regress or behave suspiciously.”

  “Then it’s settled. I should go and tell him the good news. Right?” Roger asks me.

  “I wouldn’t do that so soon.” Wikus stumbles for words, gesturing wildly in Roger’s direction. “After all, there’s the weather to consider as well. Maybe it would be wise to wait until this latest snowstorm ends. The journey back would be too toiling for him. You should think of that before getting his hopes up.”

  The more he talks, the more intense he sounds. His logic is sound and I understand the reluctance of parting with a test subject, particularly when so many people depend on this cure, but I can hear an edge of desperation in his voice. Desperate people can do questionable things.

  “Hey, I’m back with some delicious soup.” We all turn to Prudence, holding a tray and smiling. “Dinner is served for our little recovering zombie.”

  After a brief, awkward pause, I take the tray off her hands. “Thank you, Prudence. I’ll bring this to him.”

  “I could do it instead,” Roger offers, hand already extended.

  “No, no. You should rest, I know you haven’t slept for days.” He can barely stand already; no reason for him to have another sleepless night. “If anything changes, I’ll tell you.”

  For the first time since Lily disappeared, he relaxes his shoulders and gives a shaky laugh. “Thank you. I guess I do need a few hours of sleep. Thank you, Dr. Ade and Dr. Miller. I’m sorry if I came on too strong. Danny’s family to me, so...”

  Wikus shakes his head and pats Roger’s back as he passes by us to leave. “That’s perfectly understandable.”

  Prudence accompanies him and they both head in the direction of the dormitories.

  “Can you take me to Danny’s room?” I turn to Wikus and raise the tray. “He’s probably hungry.”

  I follow him to an area I haven’t gone to yet. We stop in front of a thick metal door
with a “Quarantine” sign on it and a green light above. Wikus types a quick sequence of numbers on a security pad and the door opens with a loud metallic clank. We enter a small antechamber as the door locks behind us. A bright light passes over us, but Wikus stops it by entering another passcode and we move on to a long, wide hallway lined by doors on both sides. At the end, a guard waves for us to come closer.

  “How’s our patient doing?” Wikus asks the man.

  He glares at me for a second before answering Wikus, “There was some yelling and pounding against the door. Doesn’t sound safe. I would advise against entering the cell, Dr. Ade.”

  “Hmm, maybe—”

  I take a step forward. “This will be quick, and with you watching my back nothing will happen, right?” He opens his mouth but I just smile and continue, “Good. I feel safer already.”

  When he shows no intention of moving, I look for support from Wikus, who sighs and waves at the guard. “Do what she asks. The Captain is aware of the situation.”

  Finally, I’m allowed in under the watchful eyes of the guard. The inside is all padded and there’s a bed in the corner. Danny’s appearance isn’t much better than earlier in the lab, but the way he stands straight in the middle of the room, I can see the human in him again. I also notice he has a dislocated shoulder, probably caused by the pounding the guard mentioned. I could try to fix it, but his glassy eyes openly glare at me. I’m pretty sure he’s not ready to trust me with his injuries yet. He flexes his fingers and flares his nostrils. Does he even remember who I am? We met briefly back at Redwood.

  “Danny...?” He looks away from me, his breathing short and fast. Something’s not right. I try again, “Danny, I brought you food, but you need to stay calm. Can you do that for me?”

  To appear less threatening, I kneel and place the tray on the ground. Danny smiles excitedly, following my every movement as I reach for the lid and reveal the soup under it.

  At the sight of the bowl, he shakes his head and wildly wiggles his hands around. “I don’t want that. I don’t want that! Don’t give me that! I don’t want that! I want meat!”

  I try to explain why he can’t eat protein for now, but he becomes more and more agitated, not listening to what I’m saying.

  “You want to go back to normal, right?”

  These words reach him at last and after a pause, he advances a little, hunching near the bowl of soup. This is my chance. Carefully, I fill the spoon and extend it to him as if he’s a scared wild animal. Suddenly, he yanks me by the wrist, pulling my body against his.

  I feel his hot, foul breath on my neck just as the guard behind me shocks Danny with a baton. He yells in pain but let’s me go immediately, falling on his back and becoming unconscious in seconds. It takes me longer to recover from the shock, my heart beating fast as I get up. I place my hands on my hips and focus on my breathing to calm down.

  “Maria, are you safe? Did he hurt you?” Wikus calls from the hallway, peeking into the cell. “I suspected this wouldn’t go well. We need to keep him isolated until we can understand what’s triggering these violent outbursts.”

  “Maybe...” I take another deep breath. “Maybe you were right, Dr. Ade. I guess I pushed him too fast.”

  I literally risked my neck this time. He was so fast, I had no time to react. I feel my sweaty forehead, and kneel next to Danny’s unconscious form. At least now I can put his shoulder back into its right place with the help of the guard. I leave the soup anyway, in case he wants it. It’s frustrating to see him act like this, but nothing in life is easy. Of course the cure isn’t a magical fix. I shouldn’t be surprised that we have new obstacles to face. Roger will be disappointed as his fears are being confirmed. Perhaps I shouldn’t tell him about this just yet.

  Wikus walks with me back to the infirmary, where I intend to spend the rest of the day until Tigh comes back from patrol. Unlike me, the scientist isn’t overly concerned with Danny’s reaction, treating the whole incident as a mere setback. He even greets the guards standing at the entrance with a smile. The guards, by the way, haven’t left my door since Mouse’s operation and Artie’s accident, even after I assured them Artie has no symptoms of the virus. Apparently, Irons isn’t taking any chances.

  “Neurology is far from an exact science. Much is still unknown to us. Even Spencer might not have predicted how deeply his virus would affect the brain. But if we study Danny more deeply, I’m sure we’ll find the answer.”

  I give him a slight nod, feeling my sore neck and arms, and then going directly toward Artie’s bed to do his routine checkup. Wikus follows me, pausing at the foot of the bed to read Artie’s chart.

  “He seems to be improving. Even has some color in his cheeks. No signs of infection either. You must be relieved,” he comments while flipping through my notes. “But he hasn’t woken yet. Is that normal?”

  “I’m expecting him to wake up tomorrow. I’m slowly reducing the dosage of the heavier drugs.” Thankfully, his temperature is normal, as is his pulse. “I want this to be the least traumatic experience possible.”

  “Indeed.” He lowers his head to take a closer look at Artie’s stump. “You’ll send for me as soon as he wakes up, won’t you? I’ve been worried sick since the whole terrible ordeal. Liv, too. We’re all quite close here. A family.”

  I give him a restrained smile that doesn’t quite reach my eyes. “I’m sure he’ll be happy to know his boss cares so much.”

  After a few minutes of watching me do boring tests, Wikus leaves and I bite my lip as he closes the door behind him. To be honest, I want to talk to Artie before anyone else. I keep trying to find a reason for his behavior in the operation room, but nothing I can think of explains it. Whatever happened, I don’t think he would be willing to tell his boss, much less the person who chopped off his foot.

  Which is why I lied about Artie waking up tomorrow. And why three hours later he opens his eyes. I grab a chair and sit next to his bed, hoping the amount of painkillers I’m giving him will soften the blow of losing his limb a bit.

  “Hey, Artie. Welcome back.”

  He blinks slowly, still half-asleep, while muttering something in French, then he opens his eyes wide and starts thrashing.

  “Calm down. It’s okay. You’re okay,” I say while placing my hands above his. His gaze follows the movement and he stops flailing his limbs. “Hey. I’m sorry I scared you. Can you talk?”

  “Yes. Where am I?”

  “The infirmary. We moved you here so you can recover.”

  Half-listening to me, Artie tries to move his leg below the covers. Probably feeling the absence already, his lips quiver until he’s openly crying. He runs his finger over his running nose, sobbing hard.

  “I’m sorry. I couldn’t reattach it without risking the infection. But you’re recovering well and the pain will subside with time. We can try fitting you with a prosthetic limb further down the road. You can lead a normal life.”

  He shakes his head and hides his face in his hands. “I’m dead. I’m dead already.” After crying some more, he lifts his head and reaches for my hands. “Don’t leave me alone, please. I made a mistake. I—I panicked.”

  I lean forward to comfort him. “It’s okay. Everyone knows you didn’t mean it and it’s okay.”

  “No. No—you don’t understand!” His thick accent gets harder to understand the more agitated he gets. He tries to get up, clinging to my lab coat for dear life. “I did mean it. I panicked when the surgery went well. You don’t get it. You don’t understand. I wouldn’t let them have him. They will ruin everything. I need to go! I can’t stay here anymore.”

  “Please calm down, Artie. You aren’t in any condition to leave. I don’t want to sedate you again, so please—”

  He doesn’t listen to me. His heart monitor goes berserk and he shakes me violently while trying to get out of bed. I try to free myself from his grip, but I’m afraid of hurting him if I use too much strength.

  Instead, I reach for the IV
line to pump him full of sedatives again.

  “You can’t let them use the serum. It’s bad. It’s not... Dr. Ade. Don’t trust him. If you don’t believe me, go... His office... Go to his office. You’ll see…”

  His breathing slows down and he releases me, sliding under the bedsheets again. After a few minutes, he stops mumbling altogether and goes back to sleep. When he does, I take a step back to get my head together.

  What the hell is going on here? What just happened? I can’t believe Artie actually wanted to free Mouse from his bonds. He wanted Mouse dead. So much that he risked getting bitten himself. And his warning about Wikus? I have no idea what to make of that.

  The door flies open, slamming against the wall. The man himself steps inside, followed by Prudence and the two guards from the entrance. I can only guess the guards heard the yelling and called the scientists.

  “Dr. Paz! What happened? Is Artie awake? Is he all right?”

  I shake my head, still flustered. Wikus immediately checks Artie, feeling his pulse and trying to open his eyes.

  For some reason, his concern sounds fake to me. I’m shocked this is the first time I’m noticing it. His request to see Artie as soon as possible, his quick appearance as if he’d been waiting just outside the door for any news, the presence of the guards and their guns even after it became clear Artie was clear of the virus...

  I’m not a paranoid person. I’m not Lily. Artie was heavily sedated and confusion is expected, but I have never seen a drugged person be so specific with their delusions. I believe him more than I believe Wikus right now.

  “Dr. Paz?”

  I blink a few times and try to crack a convincing smile. “Yes. Sorry. He woke up, but he was in too much pain and I had to sedate him again. I guess I miscalculated the dosage.” All four people stare at me in silence. I clear my throat. “False alarm. I’m sorry.”

  “Oh. I see.” Wikus signals the guards to leave. “That’s a pity.”