Those Who Remain (Book 3)

by Priscila Santa Rosa

  She lands a quick peck on my head; the light kiss is moist and disturbing. “There. Now for the main attraction. I’m so excited to record and document the process in real time. The data I’ll gather... I mean, we’re talking about history-defining moments here. Thanks for the opportunity.”

  I widen my eyes, gasping for air. “What? You’re crazy. You can’t do that to me, please! Are you out of your freaking mind? Let me go!”

  But my pleas are ignored as she moves away. A second later the monkeys’ squealing gets louder and the banging against their cages becomes more aggressive. The noise is unbearably loud. Even if I scream, nobody will hear. Even if they did, would anyone care? I swallow hard between desperate gasps for air.

  “Here we go, Doc. Time to donate your brain to science,” Prudence mutters with strange affection in her voice.

  Oh God, oh God, what do I do? I feel Prudence’s breath on my neck as I try, but fail to push the chair backwards using my weight. I feel a painful jab as a needle pierces my skin.

  Lights flicker and a loud, powerful explosion shakes every piece of furniture in Prudence’s office. I hear objects falling to the ground before everything goes dark, then dark red as the emergency lights turn on.

  “What in the hell?” Prudence groans. “Don’t go anywhere, Doc. I’m going to see what happened. My laptop battery life is terrible. I need the juice or risk losing raw recording.”

  She tosses the needle away and a few seconds later, I hear the door close. I don’t have much time. I need to escape before this crazy woman opens my brain. I wiggle my wrists again, squeezing my fingers as much as possible while pulling, but it’s too tight and the straps don’t even move. With no other option, I repeat the process on my feet. Maybe if...

  I rub the back of my heels against the chair and manage to slip out of my shoes, gaining enough extra space to get my right foot free. I do the same thing with the left shoe, ignoring the shooting pain in my muscles and the strain on my neck.

  I kick the air with my free legs faster and faster until the chair buckles and falls backwards, taking me with it. I crash onto the floor, but the impact breaks open one of the leather buckles. I let out a short, relieved laugh, eyes watering, mouth dry. Hand outstretched, I reach for the other wrist and free it.

  Not bound to the chair anymore, I stand upright too quickly and a surge of dizziness has me losing my balance. I use the counter for support and rest the palm of my hand on my warm forehead, then I close my eyes to stop the world from spinning around so much. Whatever drug Prudence gave me, I’m still feeling its effects.

  What if they’ve captured Tigh already? What if he needs my help? I have to find Tigh and Roger and warn them. I just hope it’s not too late. I have no idea how long I was out.

  With the power out, the cameras won’t be working. I have no idea how long until it comes back on, so I need to move fast. But I can’t leave this place without a way to defend myself. Chest tight with fear, I go through Prudence’s drawers, frantically searching for a weapon. I finally spot a tray full of surgical tools. I grab the scalpel with the biggest blade and race to the office doors.

  The hallway is bathed in red and an alarm rings in the distance as a robotic voice announces a fire emergency. Adrenaline shoots through my veins as hammering heartbeats drown out every other sound. Keeping my back against the cold wall, I slowly move between hallways, one hand firmly gripping the scalpel, jaw clenched shut at each corner. I leap, startled as the emergency sprinklers start working, water raining from above and drenching me from head to toe.

  Finally, the hallway divides into two paths. I remember that the way back to the infirmary is to the right and the West Dormitories might be to my left, but voices echo from the right. So I go left anyway, having no idea where this is leading me or if it’s actually leading anywhere at all and not to a dead end—figuratively or literally.

  Footsteps splash the water nearby. After a moment of complete frozen terror, I reach for the nearest door, squeezing into a small supply room filled with piles of crates almost to the ceiling. I find a gap between them and hide, clammy fingers still gripping the scalpel, ready to attack if anyone opens the door.

  Human voices grow closer, hushed steps passing by the door then slowly fading away. I let out a heavy sigh, filling my lungs with air again.

  As I get ready to exit my hiding spot, I knock a box to the floor, almost tripping over it. Strangely, it has the Free Republic flag printed on it as well as the word “biohazard”. In fact, most of boxes have the flag on them. I doubt a secret military-controlled CDC base would be holding any material from the very country responsible for the current chaos. This could only mean Wikus, Irons, and everyone else aren’t really CDC employees at all. They came from the other side of world, straight to this hidden base, knowing full well Spencer would be coming too.

  They are Free Republic spies and they have Spencer’s notebook and the means to replicate the mind-control serum they used on Danny.

  I bite my lip, struggling with what to do. I’m closer to Wikus’s office than the dormitories. Should I risk going back to grab the notebook? If I can’t escape this hellhole, at least I can make sure the notebook is destroyed.

  I step out of the room and back to the hallway. The robotic voice keeps warning people to seek the nearest fire exit route, but I ignore it completely, and continue to race toward what I hope is Wikus’s office. I’m now completely drenched, wet hair clinging to my face and eyes.

  And that’s when I hear the screams, and the moaning, and the gunshots coming from straight ahead. I take a step back, muscles tense, ready to sprint the other way if needed. A guard appears from the corner, expression full of terror as he rushes past me. He slips and falls, blood mixing with water.

  While I debate helping him or running away, he crawls in the opposite direction, a finger pointed behind me.

  I feel them before I seem them, heavy steps and breathing. They howl and shove each other to move into the cramped hallway. There are a dozen infected, if not more. All coming for us. I don’t have the time to wonder where the hell they came from, I just scramble to help the guard up and then run as fast as my short legs allow me.

  The poor man trips again, probably already injured. His screams pierce my ears, but I keep going. I have no choice. What little time his demise gives me is lost when a splitting headache hits me and I shut my eyes to stop the pain, only to collide with a body.

  The infected man grabs my left arm to stop me from moving back. He’s wearing a CDC uniform full of bullet holes and his face is nothing more than black tumors and one good eye. He laughs and opens his mouth, ready to sink his rotten teeth into my flesh. Yelling, I bury the scalpel into his only visible mushy eyeball, sinking it deep enough to reach his brain. He wails his last cry, collapsing onto his back, splashing water everywhere. I’m far from safe as the rest of the infected are already at my heels. Unlike me, they don’t get tired.

  I make a sharp turn to the right, then to the left, racing along as water still pours from the ceiling until I hit a dead end with a thick metal door. I pound my fists against it, then try the handle to no avail.

  I’m trapped.

  Biting my lip hard enough to draw blood, my eyes race for a way out. There’s a fire axe case to my left and a vent to my right. Maybe I can pry it open to hide inside, but that will take too long, so I break the glass for the fire axe, gripping the weapon’s handle with clammy hands. Shadows run across the walls, footsteps louder and louder. I could run straight ahead, past the intersection where they’re coming from. If I’m fast enough maybe I can avoid them.

  God, I don’t know, but I have no time to be sure, so I dash forward, passing the right hallway just as the horde arrives, arms reaching for me. Barely standing, I pass through a dense cloud of smoke and mist to find myself alone, the echo of their steps fading.

  Completely worn out, I cough hard and let out a sob. I feel dizzy, head light and warm. It’s getting harder to breathe and I’m not ev
en sure if I’m dripping with water or sweat, my whole body aching and hot.

  Not a minute after, a flash of black and white crosses my path. It’s Wikus, holding the notebook tightly against his chest, racing away. This is my chance. I bolt after him. He heads to the main labs, hastily using a key to open the anticontamination chamber and slipping inside. On his heels, I catch the door before it closes.

  I follow him as he swivels around the labs and equipment, so focused on his path he doesn’t seem to notice me. The smoke here is thick and mixed with falling water, so it’s hard to see anything. My only guide is his white lab coat floating behind him. Finally he takes a sharp turn to the left and into the serum storage room. The freezers are still working, probably powered by a backup generator. He knows the generator won’t last forever. He wants to prepare his serum for transport, and I can’t let him.

  While he fumbles to gather the materials, I yell to him, voice barely rising above the fire alarm, “Wikus, stop! Give me the notebook. I can’t let you have it.”

  He faces me with wide eyes, glasses steamed by the smoke. “You! Y-you stay back, Dr. Paz. We have no time. The fire released the subjects and now the base is overrun. If you want to live, you need to escape before it’s too late.”

  My eyelids are heavy and my head feels like it’s going to blow up from the pressure. “Subjects? Who are these people? Why did you keep them hidden? Why lie? Who are you?”

  Wikus’s gaze wanders from one side to the other, his lips moving fast. “I’m who I said I was. I never told you any lies. I merely omitted my true affiliations with Spencer and Murabai. Yes, I worked with both, but for the science. For the possibility of triumphing over death. The subjects were kept safe until we could do mass testing. They were... sacrifices. Needed for the greater good, like you said. We need to control the infected. Use them to fix the mess Spencer made, and then evolve humanity. Our work can’t be in vain, Maria. Please, let me pass.”

  I stare at him, mouth agape. “Our work? Are you mad? I want no part of this.”

  “Then I’ll leave your name out of the history books. Now, leave.”

  Feet spread, axe firmly in my hands, I shake my head. “No. Not until you give me the notebook and leave the serum behind.”

  His expression hardens. “And if I don’t? Are you willing to kill me? I doubt it.”

  “You don’t know me that well.”

  Wikus takes a step back, eyes fixed on me. “Fine. Take the notebook.”

  He hurls the thing at me and while I instinctively protect my face, he leaps forward and clashes against my body. We both fall on the floor. I roll to the side, but he snatches my coat and pulls me back. Vision blurred and chest compressed, I kick him in the stomach and use the axe to push him off me.

  Breathing fast and hard, we both pull back from each other. He has a gash on his cheek and clutches his stomach, but I’m not much better. Every limb on my body feels heavy, slow, and I keep blinking to clear my vision. I can’t do this for much longer. I’m not a fighter.

  And I don’t need to be.

  I snap my head toward the freezer and the many vials of the serum inside. Wikus flails his hands around, desperate.

  “Maria... do not do this... Years of research, you can’t—”

  With every bit of strength I have left, I bury the axe in the freezer multiple times, shattering the door and turning the vials to tiny pieces of glass, blue liquid streaming onto the floor. Wikus lets out a wail of pain, shoving me out of the way and furiously searching for a salvaged vial.

  “No... No... No! It can’t be...”

  While he mumbles, I drag myself away and grab the notebook from the floor, dropping the too-heavy axe behind. My skin burns, shivers running across my arms.

  I hear his howl of anger too late: Wikus jumps on me, punching my gut and chest with so much ferocity, I hear one of my ribs break. Wheezing for air, every breath painful now, my fingers fumble for the axe. I hit Wikus in the head once with every bit of strength I have left.

  He slides off me to the side, body hitting the floor, the axe buried in his fractured skull. I stare at his body, all the blood in my veins turning cold. It was self-defense. It was...

  I shake my head. The notebook. Focus on that, Maria. I run away, but not too far. Dizzy and feverish, I slip and fall in the pool of water, fainting a few seconds later. A pair of strong hands lifts me back to my feet. Too weak to stand, I rest my head on his chest, recognizing his smell first.

  “Hey, Maria, look at me. Come on, keep it together.”

  I manage a feeble smile. “Tigh...”

  “That’s right. I found you. I’m here, Maria. It’s okay now. Tell me what happened to you.”

  “Everything was a lie. They wanted to use the virus to make an army. I had to stop him. I had to. It was self-defense.” I hand him the notebook, eyes half-open. “Take it. Use it. Someone, somewhere can make a real cure. Please, Tigh.”

  “Did they hurt you?” He pats my cheek, then shakes my shoulders. “Maria, did they hurt you?”

  “They...” My eyes fill with tears. I pretended ignorance, but I know what’s happening to me. I know Prudence didn’t drug me. “I’m infected. Please... Please just go. I need you alive. You have to stay alive. Go!”

  “I’m going, but you’re coming with me.”

  He takes my arm and pushes me to move, but I fight back as much as I can against his strong grip.

  “You have to leave before I hurt you.” When struggling doesn’t work, I place a hand on his face and our eyes meet. “Please, I don’t want to hurt you.”

  Now, more than ever, I regret not kissing him that night. I regret not asking more about his life, his past. We survived so much together and I don’t even know what made him happy in life. It’s so unfair I can hardly stand it.

  At least we can say goodbye.

  “Please, Tigh. Take the notebook and go. Find someone, someone good to use this. If you don’t, everything that happened will be for nothing. Everything we did, it has to count for something. It has to matter.”

  He slowly nods, his eyes filled with anguish. He swallows, then plants a soft kiss on my head. “Okay, okay. I’ll do it. I swear I’ll do it. Just... let me stay with you. For a little longer.”

  And so he does. He keeps me in his arms while I writhe in pain, moaning and begging for relief. My thoughts become muddled, confused, until I lose sight of him, eyes only able to see red, red everywhere.

  I’m so hungry. Please... I want...

  THE GIRL IN THE CABIN XIII

  January 27th, Wednesday, 2 am

  With Lily gone, Jacob goes back to being silent and moody. He knew about the gun and probably what I did at the town, but still took care of me. I don’t get it. I don’t understand Jacob at all, and you know what? That’s fine. I don’t care. Whatever his reasons, he helped me, and I’ll keep helping him, promise to Lily or not.

  I check his fever and give him another antibiotic pill. “How come you have all these antibiotics? Even my mom needed prescriptions to buy these.”

  Jacob gives me a small smile. “Pet shops sell them for fish. Guys at the Army bought them in there all the time.”

  “Ew. But isn’t it for fish, then?”

  He chuckles. “Nah. The chemicals are the same, really.”

  I frown. Mom would throw a fit if she knew what he was doing, but I guess it doesn’t matter anymore. Jacob adjusts his position, keeping his back against the wall with a fixed grimace on his face.

  “Do you want more blankets behind your head?” I ask, already standing to grab them from our backpacks. He shakes his head and signals me to sit down again.

  “Don’t waste your time. We need to talk about what happens next.” He blinks slowly and coughs. “If Lily doesn’t show up in the next twenty-four hours, you need to leave. Take everything you can carry and head back to the car. Give me something I can write on so I can mark the way for you.”

  He offers his hand, but I don’t move. “I’m not going to
leave you behind, Jacob. I’m going to stay until you get better.”

  For a second, I think he’s going to argue. Instead, he winces and closes his eyes for a while. I don’t take my eyes off his chest, following his breathing closely while biting my lip. After what seems like an eternity, he coughs and opens his eyes again.

  “If in twenty-four hours I’m still alive, then we’ll talk about that possibility. But you need to be prepared because my chances aren’t that good, and neither are Lily’s. So give me something to write on.”

  I watch as he draws a small map in the back of one of the brochures. His hand trembles badly and the pen slips from his fingers constantly.

  “It’s a five-day hike back to the car if you don’t stop to rest too much. Keep a good pace and don’t rush. If there’s a snowstorm, find shelter or build one with snow. Stay dry, that’s the most important thing, so heat doesn’t escape your body. Got it?”

  “Yes.” I nod, already used to his lectures. “I’m going to be fine. Don’t worry.”

  “Too bad I won’t be able to give you more driving lessons. Or gun lessons.”

  I cross my arms over my chest and scowl. “Then get better so we can leave together. Thinking positively helps, you know.”

  He snorts. “Sorry, being an optimist is not in my DNA. I may be good at some things, but hoping for the best? I can’t do it. It’s not how I was built.”

  “Well, I didn’t think I could shoot random strangers or stab them with forks. So if I’m capable of killing people, you can be positive once, okay?”

  Jacob raises his eyebrows at me, then smiles. “Fine. Since I’m not going to die, feel free to ask what you’re pretending you don’t want to ask.”

  Crap, he really can read me like a book, can’t he?

  “Why did you help me if you knew I shot Danny and stole your daughter’s gun?”

  He stares at the ceiling for a second or two, before answering, “I know it’s hard for you to believe, but you aren’t some evil monster, Laurie. You were scared and alone, so you made a mistake. If there’s one thing I can relate to, it’s messing things up.” He lets out a heavy sigh, resting his hands on his stomach. “Besides, my daughter left her gun unattended, so it was partially my fault. I had to make it up to you somehow.”