Manuel turned to one of his men. “That could take forever.”
Dale stilled; when he turned to face Manuel, any semblance of friendliness was gone. “That’s right. It could. Got a problem with that? Someplace you have to be?”
Manuel swallowed hard. “N-no. I didn’t mean anything by it.”
“You’re lucky I like to work alone. If we don’t trip over them in the first week, it’ll be a marathon, and you boys can run home to Texas.”
Dale glared at the man a final time and stalked off, keenly aware that they’d already lost too much time, the trail was cold, and they needed to make it back through the canyon before it got too dark to negotiate the mined areas safely.
Manuel, his men behind him, hurried to catch up, but if Dale noticed, he didn’t say anything. He was done with them, their usefulness over now that they’d led him to the valley. He didn’t need them, and they wouldn’t be any help in locating his quarry.
No, that would take all his skill and cunning.
And for that kind of job, he preferred to work alone.
Chapter 9
The knock at the door of Lucas and Sierra’s house echoed like a gunshot. Lucas set the pistol he was cleaning on the dining table and walked to the door.
“Yeah?” he called out.
“Lucas? It’s Michael. Is Eve there?”
Lucas opened the door to find Michael on the porch, his eyes red from lack of sleep. Lucas tipped his hat at the younger man. “I think she’s back with Sierra. What’s up?”
“Elliot needs more blood.”
Lucas’s expression hardened. “Already given a boatload. Been through a lot for a little girl.”
“I know. But he’s close to having the vaccine ready to test, and he just needs one last donation from her to prepare it.”
Lucas sighed and stepped back. “Come on in.”
Michael followed Lucas inside and Lucas indicated a chair by the sofa. “Be back in a second,” Lucas said, and disappeared into the bedroom area.
Sierra and Eve looked up from where the little girl was helping Sierra clean the picture windows. Sierra raised an eyebrow at his sudden appearance. “You get bored with your guns?” she teased.
“Got a visitor. Michael. Says Elliot needs Eve one last time.”
Sierra frowned. “Lucas…”
“I know. He says it’s important.”
“It always is.”
Lucas looked to Eve. “They need to draw a little more blood, Eve. What do you say?”
Eve’s face was placid. “Don’t worry. It doesn’t hurt that much.”
Sierra and Lucas exchanged a glance, unsurprised that the little girl was trying to reassure them rather than seeking their support. Eve had proven to be an unusual combination of youth and maturity, and the way she’d taken the constant demands on her had been nothing short of stoic. Sierra placed the rag she was using on the windowsill and touched Eve’s arm. “You’re the bravest girl I’ve ever met, Eve.”
Eve shrugged and met Lucas’s stare with her big blue eyes. “Is there a choice?”
When Lucas and Sierra emerged from the bedroom with Eve, Michael rose. “Good morning, Eve,” he said.
“Morning,” she responded almost inaudibly.
“Almost time for our morning walk anyway,” Lucas said, reaching for his hat. “We’ll head over with you. How long you figure this’ll take?”
“Shouldn’t be too long.”
The streets were largely empty; the weather was turning ugly, as it had periodically since they’d arrived. Leaden clouds blocked the sun, and the air was heavy with the smell of an approaching squall. Sierra eyed the angry sky with narrowed eyes. “Think we’ll be able to make it back before it starts pouring?” she asked Lucas.
“We might have half an hour at best, from the looks of things.” Lucas shook his head. “Probably going to get wet.”
When they reached the community center, Elliot was waiting for them, his face haggard with fatigue. A pair of scratched reading glasses perched on the end of his nose. The jovial, ruddy-complexioned physician was barely recognizable in him, replaced by a man who looked like he’d been to hell and back more than once.
Lucas eyed him as he shook hands. “Been burning it at both ends, huh?”
Elliot gave a rueful grimace. “We’re at a critical phase. I can sleep once we’re over this hump.”
For weeks, Elliot had been snatching rest a few hours at a time, preferring to invest his time in refining the vaccine before winter. He spent his days racing the threat of being snowed in and thus unable to distribute the vaccine until spring. He’d become a recluse of late, leaving the day-to-day to Michael and more or less living in the laboratory he’d set up in the rear of the center.
For the actual handling of the virus, he’d built a separate facility in what had been the post office down the road, which was now off-limits to everyone. It featured his version of a Level IV clean room with an en suite bathroom, a primitive shower and disinfection stall at the inner entrance that served as a dressing room, and a second shower in a separate enclosed area that was the exit to the main building. The suite was equipped with a makeshift air filtration system that exhausted through a set of filters that were specially designed to eliminate hazardous emissions – souvenirs he’d salvaged from the Los Alamos lab, along with additional gear for handling Level IV pathogens safely, including a pair of hazmat suits.
Eve stepped forward and absently rubbed her arm in anticipation. “Hi, Dr. Elliot.”
“Hello, my little treasure,” Elliot said. “I’m afraid I need to ask for a little more of your blood. This should be the last time. I promise.”
“I’m ready,” Eve said, her posture stiff, her voice quietly resigned.
“We’ll make it as quick as possible,” Elliot assured her, and took her hand.
Lucas and Sierra followed them through the depths of the building to the outer area of the lab, where Elliot already had an IV bag and a butterfly needle ready. Eve hopped up onto the exam table Elliot had commandeered from one of the two doctor’s offices in town, and lay with one arm hanging below her so the veins in her forearm bulged slightly.
“I keep forgetting you’re a veteran at this,” Elliot said with a smile as he swabbed her with alcohol.
Eve responded by clamping her eyes tightly shut, waiting for the sting of the steel shaft that would drain her lifeblood.
Ten minutes later Elliot had his precious sample, and Eve was sitting up, drinking a glass of blackberry juice mixed with water – one of Ruby’s contributions, from the last of the wild fruit harvested soon after their arrival.
“How close are you?” Sierra asked Elliot as they waited for Eve to recover enough to go home.
“A few more weeks is my hope. Then we need to go into the testing phase.”
“How do you plan to do that? Dogs or something?” she asked.
Elliot shook his head. “No, I’m afraid the virus only affects humans, so there’s no easy way to test the vaccine other than to expose some brave folks after they’ve been inoculated.”
Sierra swallowed. “Any volunteers yet?”
“I haven’t asked.”
Nobody said anything. They didn’t have to. Elliot sounded confident, and the virus was his responsibility, not theirs.
Sierra stroked Eve’s hair. “You up for a walk?”
She nodded and slid off the table. Sierra led her to where Lucas was talking with Elliot, and elbowed him.
“Let’s make a dash for it. Maybe we can avoid a soaking,” she said. Lucas nodded and tipped the brim of his hat to Elliot.
“Good luck. Duty calls.”
“I perfectly understand. Thanks for bringing her so promptly. And Eve? Thank you. Very, very much.”
Eve smiled, her expression lighting the room. Thunder roared from outside, and her face grew serious as her eyes drifted to the door.
“Wasn’t so bad.”
Lucas held out his hand to Sierra and pushed his hat
down lower over his brow. “All right. Let’s see if it’s our lucky day or not. Ready?”
It was Sierra’s turn to smile as she gripped his fingers, Eve’s hand tightly clasped in her other hand.
“Race you.”
Chapter 10
Elliot’s senior circle filed out of the community center. He frowned, clearly displeased by the result of the meeting, as they avoided his gaze and pushed through the door. Arnold was the last to go and barely mustered an apologetic shrug as he brushed past.
When the men had left, Elliot paced the room while Michael sat watching him. The older man’s increasingly agitated moods had intensified in the weeks since he’d drawn Eve’s blood and put the finishing touches on the vaccine.
“If they won’t volunteer, we can’t know for sure that it’s effective. It’s a chicken-egg proposition. Are they so dim they don’t see that?” Elliot fumed.
“You can’t blame them,” Michael reasoned. “Nobody wants to commit suicide, even if it’s for the greater good.”
“The vaccine’s stable. They wouldn’t be committing suicide. That’s rubbish.”
“Right. But as they said more than once, what if you’re wrong?”
“I’m not,” Elliot snapped.
Michael nodded. “I believe you. But obviously people aren’t a hundred percent confident. You have to understand that.”
Elliot sat heavily and rubbed a tired hand across his brow. Ordinarily neat and precise, since immersing himself in the final vaccine development, he’d set grooming aside and now more resembled a crazed mountain man than the reasoned leader the group knew.
“If we can’t get anyone to be the first test case, I’ll just do it myself,” Elliot grumbled.
Michael blanched. “We discussed that. You can’t. You’re too vital…if something was miscalculated, nobody could rectify it if you…were incapacitated.”
“You mean if I screwed up, I’m dead,” Elliot clarified. “If I’m confident enough to ask one of the others to volunteer, then I’m confident enough to do it myself.”
“As you’ve said countless times, this is more important than any one man. Confident or not, there’s always a chance something might go wrong, and we can’t take that chance with you.”
“Maybe, but with the weather turning and no volunteers, we’re dead in the water.”
“I know. It’s frustrating.” Michael paused. “What side effects might the vaccine cause?”
“I told you. At worst, slight flu-like symptoms. You know how vaccines work – they induce a mild form of the virus so the body develops antibodies. That way when the vaccinated encounters the real thing, they’re immune.”
“But as Arnold pointed out, no vaccine is foolproof. There’s an element of risk to all of them.”
“Of course – that’s why I didn’t disagree. But it’s small in this case. When the alternative is certain death, is there really any choice?” Elliot shook his head. “We’ve come as far as we can without a human trial. The computer models only go so far, and then you have to actually test it and see what happens.”
“How long do you figure it will take before the vaccine kicks in and the test subject is immune?”
“A week, tops.”
“You’re certain?”
“The virus is virulent and disease progression is rapid. I optimized the vaccine, so the immune response is equally accelerated. I won’t bore you with how I accomplished that, but I’m sure of the timeline.” Elliot sighed. “Which is why we need to get people on board now. We’re running out of time.”
Michael sat back and studied Elliot. “When was the last time you got some shut-eye?”
Elliot waved the question away. “I don’t know. It’s been a while.”
“Why don’t you get some rest and let me hold down the fort?”
Elliot’s eyes narrowed. “We’ve known each other a long time, Michael. What’s going on in your head?”
Michael managed a wan smile. “Yes, I suppose we have. I know that no matter what you say, you’re going to inject yourself if you can’t convince someone to be your guinea pig. I can’t allow that to happen. So I’m volunteering. Shoot me up and let’s get this train rolling.”
Elliot seemed taken aback. “You can’t do that.”
“Why not? It’s either safe or it isn’t. You’re asking others to take whatever risk there is – hell, you’re saying you’ll do it yourself – but if I go ahead and I’m fine, you’ll get cooperation from the rest.” Michael hesitated. “It’s the only way. We both know it, so let’s stop pretending. Leadership comes at a price; isn’t that what you always say?”
Elliot held the younger man with a fatigued stare. “Are you sure you’re comfortable making that sacrifice, Michael? Think long and hard about it.”
“It’s only a sacrifice if you got it wrong. I’m betting you didn’t.” Michael looked away. “No pressure or anything.”
Both men laughed nervously, the tension in the air thick as fog.
“Are you sure about this, Michael?”
“It’s put up or shut up time. Way I look at it, I could have been killed when the building came down around me. I wasn’t. My arm’s healing, but not enough so I can really help with most chores around here yet. So I’m expendable – dead weight, for now. I’m the natural choice, Elliot. I’m young, healthy, and willing. Doesn’t sound like you have any better options, so let’s get this over with.”
Elliot led Michael to the post office and briefed him on the clean room and its supply of fresh water, solar power, and food.
“We’ll do a blood draw from you after a week and verify your antibody load is sufficient to ward off the virus,” Elliot said as he prepared a dose of the vaccine. Michael sat unmoving as Elliot measured a quarter syringe’s worth of amber fluid and then turned to him. “You absolutely sure about this, Michael?”
Michael nodded, his expression resolute. “Let’s rock.”
Elliot cleaned off an area of Michael’s upper arm and injected him. Michael drew a sharp intake of breath, and then Elliot stepped back and pursed his lips. “That’s it. Now go on into the clean room. I’ll check on you every few hours.”
“I’m on my way. In the meantime, get some rest. Nothing’s going to happen for days, right?”
Elliot grunted assent. “That’s right. You might feel a little run-down, at worst, for a couple days.”
“Then this will be like a paid vacation in a five-star hotel. What’s not to like?”
Michael entered the outer shower area and gave Elliot a wave, and Elliot watched him close the first door and open the second. When Michael was inside the room, testing the firmness of one of the cots they’d placed there in anticipation of a host of eager volunteers who’d failed to materialize, Elliot closed his eyes and felt for the wall as a wave of dizziness threatened to overwhelm him. The moment passed, and he offered the younger man another wave as he made for the door.
Once outside, he paused and leaned against the brickwork, his chest tight and his eyes burning. He forced himself to breathe deeply and pushed up from the wall with a determined expression, muttering a prayer under his breath.
Chapter 11
Houston, Texas
Six weeks had passed since the refinery uprising had been resolved with the execution of the Salazar cousins and those loyal to them; but rather than things improving, they’d grown more ominous with each passing day. Rumors of insurgence from other cities had reached Snake via the radio and by messenger, and it had become obvious that Magnus’s empire was coming apart, fraying at the edges as challengers to Snake’s power grew emboldened.
Snake had dispatched hit squads of his most vicious killers to deal with the ringleaders, but it was like playing whack-a-mole – for each rebellious traitor he neutralized, a new one popped up. Houston might have been stabilized once the Salazars were eliminated, but even though there were no overt signs of resistance, Snake was convinced rebellious factions were plotting his downfall, waiting for an op
portune time to strike.
He’d grown progressively more erratic in his behavior, and his meth consumption increased as his agitation grew. In the past few months he’d taken to closing himself off in his headquarters, surrounded by his loyal guards, refusing to leave unless absolutely necessary. Even the weekly executions in the mammoth parking lot had grown to be a source of distress for him, and it was all he could do to attend the ceremonies, sure that there were crosshairs targeting him whenever he was exposed.
Snake awoke and his nose wrinkled at the sour smell of perspiration, the air rank in spite of the air conditioning cranked to freezing in his quarters. He groaned and blinked away the stupor of sleep, momentarily unsure of what time it was – when had he passed out? And for how long?
He checked the time and saw that it was eight o’clock. But p.m. or a.m.? The last few days had been a nonstop blur of debasement and excess – nights of drugs and sex and booze, days of continuing the party while his lieutenants contended with the daily challenges. Part of him grasped that his misbehavior was a luxury he could ill afford, but another, larger part reasoned that there was no point in being top dog if he couldn’t enjoy the spoils of success.
Ultimately his baser instincts had won the internal struggle, and now here he was, unsure of whether it was day or night, trembling slightly, his head pounding and every muscle in his body transmitting pain.
He rose and stumbled to the table where his meth and stash of other drugs were scattered, and fumbled among the containers until he found a blue pill – diazepam, expired three years earlier but still sufficiently potent to blunt the worst of the hangover and leave him functional. He popped the tablet in his mouth and washed it down with a long pull from a mescal bottle, wincing as the harsh liquid seared its way down his throat, and then staggered to the bathroom, where the overhead lights sent needles of agony through his head when he switched them on.
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