The Death: The Complete Trilogy

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The Death: The Complete Trilogy Page 37

by John W. Vance


  “Yes, I mean, not one of ours, it’s Brady’s sister,” Brianna replied.

  They walked up to the bloated corpse and stood above it looking down.

  Devin was instantly repulsed. He had the weakest stomach of all of them. He pulled up his shirt to cover his nose.

  Tess knelt down and turned the body on its back.

  The naked body was swollen. Chunks of her face had been fed upon by fish. Her eyes were bulging out of the sockets, and the cause of death looked apparent as a horizontal gash across her throat gaped open.

  “Has Brady seen this?” Tess asked.

  “Yes, he found her.”

  “Oh my God,” Devin blurted out.

  “Why were the kids down here playing by themselves?” Tess chastised Brianna.

  “Alex was watching over them. He took a few of the boys down here to go swimming.”

  “That’s so irresponsible,” Tess continued with her reprimand.

  “Ladies, enough, we need to deal with this. How is Brady?” Devin asked.

  “He’s clearly upset, hasn’t come out of the back bedroom since he came back.”

  “Bri, we need to bury her and have a ceremony. We have an hour or more of light left, so let’s get on this right away. Run up to the house and get that large blue tarp in the garage and two shovels,” Devin said.

  “Okay,” Brianna said.

  Brianna marched off towards the house.

  Tess stood up and looked out to sea. She tore open the pouch on her hip and pulled out a set of binoculars. Putting them to her eyes, she scanned the horizon. “There’s two scenarios here. She was either dumped in the river or dumped far out at sea.”

  “She was dumped out at sea, no doubt about it.”

  “Why so certain?” Tess asked, lowering the binoculars and looking at Devin.

  He dug into his pocket, pulled out the key, and said with confidence, “Now I know what this key fits, a boat.”

  Denver International Airport

  Horton was usually not the person waiting, but when Dr. Mueller asked for more time, it meant you had to wait, regardless of your status or position. As he waited, he looked around the sterile stainless steel walls of the underground secret facility he had built for the doctor. Everything that was happening there had to be kept quiet so much that Dr. Mueller and his staff never left the facility. While Horton was building the facility, he also constructed living quarters and all the comforts and amenities anyone could ever desire.

  Dr. Mueller had been the man heading up synthesizing a new strain of the Death using Cassidy Lange’s blood. What set Cassidy apart from others who had been immune was that she had contracted the Death, but her body had created antibodies and fought it. From all of their tests during the preoperational stage, they hadn’t found anyone who had lived after showing symptoms. Once symptoms appeared, you were dead within days. Cassidy Lange was a unique case. She was not only the first person to spread the virus but also the only one they had discovered that should have died but didn’t. She wasn’t immune in the traditional sense. Her body had reacted the same way as someone not immune, but instead of killing her, her body fought back and killed the virus. It was from her that they had created R-59, a permanent vaccine unlike the other one they used for support personnel. He had kept R-59 quiet from the Order but planned on unveiling it, and in this unveiling he’d unleash something else that would ravage the remaining population of the world.

  “Chancellor Horton, sorry to keep you waiting. Please come in,” Dr. Mueller said, waving him into his office.

  “It’s not a problem, Doctor; I know how busy you are. If you weren’t, I’d be asking you why.”

  “I won’t even wait for you to sit down. We have it; we have created it,” he blurted out with childlike excitement.

  “The other virus?”

  “Yes, and its antidote. I call it Lazarus,” Mueller said, holding up a vial.

  “Lazarus is the antidote?”

  “Yes.”

  “I’m not liking the sound of that.”

  “Yes, well. Let’s say you practically die, then come back. You essentially experience what patient zero did, but this second virus is worse. You see, I took the Ebola virus, and I—”

  “Stop. Don’t bore me with the details. I’d rather not know, except how quickly does it kill once it’s released?”

  “Come see!” Mueller said, rushing out of the office and into his lab.

  Horton followed him in the large space. Mueller’s team was so busy they didn’t take notice of Horton entering the space.

  Mueller walked him through the lab to a hallway lined with large windows on both sides. He flipped on the lights and pointed to the first window on the right.

  Horton cautiously walked up and looked through the thick protective glass. There he saw a woman in a white gown crawling on the floor, a trail of blood behind her. She was moaning and crying for help, but those pleas were heard but not heeded.

  “There’s so much blood,” Horton gasped.

  “Like I said, I took the Ebola virus and combined it—”

  “Don’t bother, please. So when did you give this woman the new virus?”

  “Yesterday,” he said, looking at his watch, then finished, “About twenty-two hours ago.”

  “So it’s just as quick as the Death but clearly more gruesome,” Horton said. He was repulsed by what he saw.

  “It’s a beautiful killer. So far not one person, not one, has survived it except those we also gave Lazarus to. When we administer Lazarus to a sick patient they have a ninety-five percent chance of survival. Fifty percent have shown minor symptoms of the Bloody Death, even if we give that to them first. Good news is, all survive, and not a person has died. It’s more of an inconvenience.”

  “Did you just call it the bloody death? No names, okay, this isn’t a product we’re peddling, and by the time it does its job, there won’t be that many people left,” Horton said, his full attention on Mueller.

  A bloody hand slapped the glass, startling Horton. He stepped back and swallowed hard. “If you give me this now, the Lazarus, I have a fifty percent chance of showing symptoms like that but won’t die?”

  “Pretty much.”

  “Dr. Mueller, I thought you were ready, but having a fifty percent chance of bleeding out my ass doesn’t sound pleasant. I need you to perfect it. Get working on it immediately, and don’t call me down here till it’s a much higher rate.”

  The sick woman again slapped the window, her groans and pleas muffled by the thick glass and walls.

  “And for heaven’s sake, unless you’re going to save that woman, put her down.”

  Mueller looked up briefly and made eye contact. The pain of being reprimanded hurt him. The vision he’d had in his mind when he called Horton was that he’d be singing his praises for doing such a wonderful job. Unable to contain his feelings, he muttered, “Yes, sir.”

  Horton looked at the woman one last time, then back at Mueller, a great look of disgust on his face. “And hurry up, we’re running out of time,” he barked then stormed off.

  Pine Bluffs, Wyoming

  After spending three hours with the magistrate and his security team, Travis was surprised by the sophistication and level of detail that had gone into the protection of the town, which included the physical security, barriers and the ‘hunting parties’ that were sent out weekly. For an unknown reason, the magistrate opened up and gave specific details on how the town ran. Travis assumed he wanted to win his trust, but for someone new to town and a ‘convicted felon’, he thought it odd to disclose so much. He described that in order to remain in town everyone was given a responsibility and had to perform it. Contribution to the whole was critical, and if the whole found one person not working out, they could banish them. Travis laughed to himself when he heard this detail; it reminded him of an old television show called Survivor where people were also voted off by the group. While he found that part humorous, if only for its coincidence, he actually
respected it. It brought back memories of the Marine Corps and how each Marine had a job to do, each person had a role to play to ensure the completion of the mission. When he thought deeper about this and what mission had meant for him, he could easily make a connection that the town’s mission was to survive. But they had gone further than survival; they were thriving and, from what he had seen so far, outside of his situation, were also generous.

  The more the magistrate told him, the more he got engaged. He had started the meeting with a disregard for the man, but now the magistrate’s charm was wearing on him. He didn’t know his story, but he had a way about him that set him apart from most other people. He was bright, well spoken and confident. Travis, also an extremely confident person, was finding the magistrate’s enthusiasm intoxicating.

  Like a school child, Travis raised his hand and asked, “How did you do all of this? I ask because…” He stopped short of offering too much information of his most recent past.

  “Structure and systems, plain and simple,” the magistrate answered. He had been pacing the floor of the large conference room in front of a whiteboard where he had been drawing and writing notes to help illustrate how the town functioned.

  “People do like structure,” Travis replied.

  “Of course they do. For instance, you’re a Marine.”

  “Was a Marine.”

  “Whatever, but you understand the need for structure and systems. It gives people certainty. What I have to do as their leader is ensure these systems function as best they can but also keep people busy. Nothing is worse than an idle person.”

  “Idleness is the parent of mischief.”

  “Idleness is also the heaviest of all oppressions,” the magistrate said.

  “Hmm, haven’t heard that one.”

  “Victor Hugo.”

  Travis like how quick-witted the magistrate was. He cracked a slight smile and decided now was the best time to get at the heart of what he was really doing there. The entire time had been monopolized by the magistrate. “What am I doing here? I have to ask; you don’t know me. In fact, all you know of me is that I tried to steal a car and you cut off my hand.”

  “We know you’re a Marine,” Martin, the head of his security, blurted out.

  “But do you really know if I am?” Travis asked.

  Martin looked at him with an odd look but neglected to answer.

  The magistrate stepped over to Travis. He looked at Martin and the other man and asked, “Do you mind pulling the vehicle around? Time for us to show Captain Priddy his new job as part of our community.”

  “Magistrate, don’t you think it might be a bit early for that?” Martin asked.

  “Martin, please go pull the vehicle around.”

  Martin and the other man stood and left, closing the door behind them.

  “Captain Priddy, I know I can trust you, because I know everything about you.”

  “How could you possibly know everything about me?”

  “Trust me when I tell you this. Now come with me,” the magistrate said.

  Travis stood and turned, but the magistrate stopped him and said, “One more thing before we go. I’m really sorry about the hand, but if I didn’t punish you in some way, I could have had a revolution to deal with. I didn’t want to have to kill you much less maim you. Hearing you had military experience is valuable to me, but that wasn’t enough red meat for the masses, so to speak.”

  Travis looked down at his stub and reflected on everything that led to him losing it. “A good friend told me not to steal from others’ houses, and you know what, I did. Look what it got me.”

  Both men grinned and left the conference room.

  Travis had already thought he had been shocked by what he had learned. What would come next would be unimaginable.

  Lori hadn’t been able to sleep since her arrival in Hope, but a restful night’s sleep had been something elusive for her since she had arrived at Camp 13 months ago. The fatigue was wearing on her, though, as was the concern for all she loved, including Travis. With their situations set in the town of Hope, she needed to find a vaccine to save the baby. That was her main concern, and with their attempt halted, she needed to find another way.

  Her stay with Brick and Tiffany had been surprisingly pleasant. They were the most accommodating hosts, and she appreciated their kindness. At moments she had felt the urge to tell them about her pregnancy, but she just wasn’t quite ready for that. Lori found it hard to trust people anymore, and even though their hospitality had been amazing, she couldn’t commit to being fully honest. In the two weeks since Travis’s sentence was carried out, they had gone out of their way to help and asked nothing in return, but that was about to change for her.

  To keep her thoughts from traveling too often, she had found solace in crocheting. Tiffany had shown her the technique, and within days she had become quite good at it.

  Her day had gone as planned, and by mid-afternoon she was relaxing in an old green La-Z-Boy rocker recliner, stitching what she hoped would be a scarf.

  Brick walked in and said, “Lori, sorry to disturb you, but it’s time for you to go to work.”

  She lowered the crochet hook and leaned back, surprised by what he had just said. “What do you mean?”

  “The magistrate called on the radio. It’s time for you to earn your keep here.”

  Lori looked at Tiffany.

  “It’s in the covenant. All must labor so that all will have their place,” Tiffany said, reciting another line from the covenant.

  Not liking what she was hearing, she asked again, “What exactly am I going to be doing?”

  “I’m not sure, but he’ll be here to pick you up in thirty minutes.”

  “But I, um, I’m not ready,” Lori said, jumping up from the recliner and tossing the hook and yarn on the chair.

  “Better hurry. You don’t want to be late for the magistrate.”

  Lori rushed to her room.

  A loud knock at the front door told Lori the magistrate was there, but she wasn’t ready. She was always someone who liked to look her part, and looking disheveled was not what she had in mind. She heard unintelligible voices in the hallway; this only meant they were now inside waiting for her. Flustered by having to rush, she finally gave in and grunted, “Screw it.” She took a scrunchy and pulled her long brown hair through it. “Looks like a ponytail will have to do.”

  She took one last look in the mirror before she headed out. “Don’t be nervous. Just be yourself,” she told herself. Having mentally walked through the meeting, she felt prepared. She left her room and walked to the front door.

  Tiffany walked up and gave her a hug. “Congratulations, you’re officially a part of our community.”

  Lori returned the hug and held it a second longer than she normally would. She liked Tiffany and had come to regard her as a genuinely sweet and tender young woman.

  Brick stood like the towering figure he was in front of the door. He looked down at her and said, “Tiff is right. Congratulations are in order. I’ll get Tiff to make something special for dinner to celebrate when you get home.”

  The word home hit Lori. She hadn’t called any place home for a long time. She had thought that the ranch she and Travis had found might be that, but just when she called it that, they no sooner fled. She wasn’t quite sure if home was the best description for Brick and Tiffany’s house, but she’d keep her opinions to herself. “Thanks, Brick, and thank you, Tiffany. I look forward to anything you make. You’re such a wonderful cook.”

  “My momma taught me everything.”

  Her hands shaking ever so gently, she turned the doorknob and opened the door. Out in the driveway was a large black SUV. She looked at Brick and Tiffany one more time, the nervousness dripping from her face. “See you later,” she said and marched towards the vehicle.

  Martin got out of the front passenger side and opened the rear door.

  Lori walked over, greeted him and climbed in. When the door shut
, she looked at the person sitting next to her. “Mr. Magistrate, hello.”

  “Hi, Lori.”

  “This was quite a surprise,” she said with an anxious smile.

  “I think I can do one better, Lori. I believe you know the man behind you.”

  Lori shifted in her seat and looked. Her eyes bulged when she saw it was Travis. She tried to hide her shock, but somehow the magistrate knew.

  “Um, who?” Lori asked, trying to be coy.

  The magistrate laughed and said, “Lori, Captain Priddy, it’s fine. Don’t sweat it. I know you two know each other.”

  “Magistrate, I think you’re mistaken,” Travis responded.

  “Martin, take us to Area 29,” the magistrate ordered.

  The SUV backed out of the driveway and sped down the street heading north out of town.

  “Please stop playing like you don’t know one another. Captain, I told you I know everything about you because I do. After I cut off your hand, I contacted some sources I have back at the DIA. I asked if they knew a rogue Marine captain. Their answer, yes, a Captain Priddy had escaped, but what made it more exciting was that you had escaped with a woman, a fugitive by the name of Lori Roberts.”

  Lori’s instinct to fight was stopped just then when Travis said, “It was my idea to steal the car. She had nothing to do with it. Please don’t hurt her.”

  Unsure of where the situation was going, Lori put her hand in her jacket pocket and found the cold steel crochet hook. She had taken it just in case she needed a weapon. She gripped it tightly and was ready at any moment to pull it out and plunge it into the magistrate’s head.

  “No, no, no, you’ve got me all wrong. Captain Priddy, I know we got off on the wrong foot, with the hand-cutting thing, but had I known who you were, then I wouldn’t have done it at all. But like I said, I had to do something or else.”

  “You cut off his fucking hand!” Lori snapped.

  “Aren’t you a piss fire?” the magistrate blared.

  “You call cutting off his hand getting off on the wrong foot?” Lori bellowed.

  “Let me explain, please.”

 

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