“Have you noticed that every time we go into the woods, bad things happen?”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about. When I’m surrounded by trees, I feel completely at peace with nature.”
She rolled her eyes.
“Besides,” he said, grinning, “look on the bright side. You basically got to go on an around-the-world safari without ever having to leave the city.”
“Don’t remind me.”
“Still sore over that elephant?”
She growled, but it was more playful now.
Tanner laughed, and they both turned to survey the two-lane road. Several large tractor-trailers were parked end to end along the edge of the street. The sides of the trucks were painted in colorful letters: National Zoological Park.
“Now that explains a lot,” he said, pointing to the trucks.
“The zoo brought their animals here?”
“Looks like it.”
They walked around to the back of the first trailer and found the doors sitting open. Inside were dozens of cages, some barely large enough to hold a rabbit, others able to fit a small flock of sheep. The trailer’s wooden floor was spotted with urine stains and piles of dried feces.
“Whew,” she said, wrinkling her nose and stepping back. “Do you think the zookeepers brought the animals here to keep them from dying?”
“Makes sense. Most will probably die anyway, but it’s better to be given a fighting chance.” Even as he said the words, Tanner couldn’t help but reflect on his own good fortune. The kindness of a single prison guard had allowed him to be where he was today. Not quite the butterfly effect, but a ripple of causality nonetheless.
“Should we try to drive one of these big rigs?”
Tanner studied the road. Canal Road was passable in their immediate vicinity, but he doubted that it would remain that way all the way to a bridge, certainly not enough for an eighteen-wheeled tractor-trailer.
“How about we make our way across the Potomac and then grab something a little easier to navigate?”
“Fine by me.”
They crossed the road, hopped a short stone wall, and followed a ramp down to the back of a white three-story house. It was built from the same matching stone and looked to be very old. A sign identified the landmark as the Abner Cloud House. On the other side of the house was a narrow canal, and beyond that another thicket of trees. A wide wooden bridge crossed over the water, which presumably wound its way into the Potomac River.
Tanner took a couple of deep sniffs.
“Smell that?”
Samantha stopped and tipped her nose up into the air.
“It smells like fried catfish.”
“You’ve eaten catfish?”
“Of course. Why wouldn’t I have? They’re not related to cats, if that’s what you’re thinking.”
“Good to know.” He patted the wall of the old house. “Want to stop in for lunch?”
“What makes you think we’re welcome?”
“Don’t worry,” he said, winking. “I’ll put on the old charm.”
“I’m sure that’ll go over great,” she muttered.
They circled around to the front of the house and crossed a large gravel parking lot. Man-sized boulders had been placed along one side of the lot to prevent tipsy tourists from plunging into the adjacent canal. The house itself looked like it had been built by early settlers. The window frames and front door were painted a British racing green, and a bright yellow moss grew along the bottom of the old stone, as if trying to blanket it from the harsh D.C. winters.
Tanner stepped up to the door and gave it a tap with the muzzle of his shotgun. A few seconds later, one of the curtains moved aside as someone peered out. Samantha turned and waved, hoping they might be willing to look past the brute holding the gun.
The curtains immediately pulled shut.
They stood at the door for another twenty seconds before finally giving up.
“Told you,” she said, turning to leave. “You scare people.”
“Me? How do you know it wasn’t you?”
She shook her head. “How could a twelve-year-old girl—”
They both wheeled around at the sound of a deadbolt clunking free. The door eased open a few inches, and a man peeked out. He had a blanket draped over his head, making it impossible for them to see anything more than the outline of his face.
“What do you want?” he snapped. His voice was throaty, like he was getting over a cold.
Tanner looked to Samantha, and when she didn’t say anything, he stepped a little closer.
“Sorry to bother you. We smelled something cooking and wondered… well, you know. We were kind of hoping you might have a little to share with a couple of hungry travelers. We could offer to trade if that might help.”
The man took a long moment to consider the request.
Finally, he said, “You’re welcome to come in and eat, but you may not like what you find here.”
Tanner shrugged. “It smells good. Besides, we’ve pretty much seen it all. Haven’t we, Sam?”
“Oh, yes,” she said. “In fact, Tanner killed a dragon less than an hour ago.”
The man neither chuckled nor scoffed. Instead, he retreated from the door, leaving it open for them to enter. Tanner stepped in first, and Samantha followed close behind. The man shuffled through another door that led into a small living room. He turned to an open fireplace, squatted down, and began tending to a cast iron pan that was hanging from a swing arm crane. The sound of sizzling fish made their mouths water.
“You live here alone?” Tanner asked, looking around the living room.
Antique furniture, dusty paintings, and shelves full of old books gave the place a museum sort of feel. A large mirror hung on one wall, but someone had taped brown packing paper over the glass.
“Yes, I’m alone.” There was something in the way he said the words that made Tanner and Samantha glance at one another.
Still shielding himself from their view, the man stood upright, and for the first time, they saw that his movements were awkward and pained—a clear sign of having been infected. Tanner tightened his grip on the shotgun.
“What did you mean when you said we might not like what we find?”
The man slowly turned and pushed the blanket off his head. His face was unlike any they had seen before, bumpy and coarse, like he had been the victim of a botched reverse liposuction. Only instead of fat, the doctors had opted for mashed potatoes. His lips were swollen to twice their normal size, and his eyes shone with a glossy black. Unlike the other infected men and women they’d seen, however, his limbs were neither deformed nor did black ink drip from his eyes.
“Are you sure you would share a meal with someone such as me?”
Tanner was about to beat a hasty retreat when Samantha stepped forward.
“What kind of fish did you catch?”
The man seemed genuinely surprised by her reaction to his unveiling.
“The fish?” He looked back over his shoulder at the cast iron pan. “It’s walleye.”
“Oh,” she said. “I thought it might be catfish. What’s a walleye taste like?”
“Like other fish, I suppose.”
She stepped to within arms’ reach and looked into the pan.
“It sure looks delicious. I’m basically a vegetarian, but I eat fish too.”
“You do, huh?”
“Oh sure. To be honest, I sometimes even eat wild chickens.”
“Wild chickens?”
“They’re really rabbits, but that’s what we call them.”
“You sound quite industrious,” he said, glancing back to extend the compliment to her father as well.
Tanner slowly lowered the shotgun and let it hang by his side. Whatever the virus had turned this man into, it was not a killer. He stepped forward and extended his hand.
“Tanner Raines.”
“And I’m Samantha,” she said, never turning away from the sizzling fish.
The man slowly brought his own hand up. His fingers were as puffy as a ski glove, but there were no open sores.
“Good to meet you both,” he said. “I’m Dr. Victor Jarvis.”
The walleye tasted even better than it smelled, and by the time they finished, Tanner and Samantha both had to loosen their belts.
“That was so good,” she said, using her sleeve to wipe the grease from around her mouth.
Tanner slid his chair away from the small wooden table.
“We do appreciate the hospitality.”
Dr. Jarvis offered a small smile.
“It’s nice to have a little company.”
“If you don’t mind my asking,” said Samantha, “how did you end up here in this old house?”
“That’s a bit of a long story. The short version is that I escaped from a hospital, wandered around for a while, and ended up crawling into this house to die. Little did I know that it would prove to be an ideal retreat.”
“Ideal how?” asked Tanner. “The place looks pretty sparse.”
“This house was built before modern utilities. There’s a boiler in the basement, and a hand pump out back. Oil lamps and candles are used for lighting, and as you already saw, the fireplace serves as a decent stove. Everything’s old-fashioned, which is exactly why it works so well.”
“We had a nice home too,” Samantha said with a sigh, “but we had to burn it down.”
“Why in the world would you do that?”
“On account of the creatures—” She covered her mouth. “I’m sorry.”
He shook his head. “It’s not you who should be sorry, dear.”
“Meaning what?” asked Tanner.
He waved the question away.
“It doesn’t matter.”
Tanner eyed him. Dr. Jarvis was holding onto some kind of a secret.
“Besides,” offered Samantha, “you’re not so bad. We’ve seen way worse. Haven’t we, Tanner?”
“Oh, yes.”
“Like that Backson in the tunnel. You should have seen that thing, Dr. Jarvis.” She started to raise her hands to describe the enormity of the creature but stopped when she noticed that he was looking down at his swollen hands.
“I’m sorry that you have to grow up in a world of monsters,” he said in a soft voice.
“It’s okay,” she said. “I’m sure it’s going to get better.”
“No,” he said. “It’s going to get much worse.”
Tanner sat up straight. It was time to press a little. He would start by asking nicely, but if that failed, he would resort to what he knew best.
“Dr. Jarvis, you obviously know something that we don’t. Since we’re all having to share the same foxhole, as it were, it’d be decent of you to let us in on the secret.”
He sighed. “Yes, I suppose you’re right. What you may not know is that the creatures are capable of rapid evolution, or mutation, if you prefer that term. It’s unlike anything mankind has ever seen.”
“Evolution is when creatures change to better fit their surroundings,” Samantha said, touching Tanner’s arm. “I learned that in science class.”
“And here I thought it had something to do with George Washington.”
“That’s revolution,” she explained, not picking up on his sarcasm.
“Actually,” said Dr. Jarvis, “they’re both related to this story.”
Tanner and Samantha shared a confused look.
“Did you know that George Washington faced a similar challenge some two hundred and thirty years ago?”
“Monsters?” she asked.
“No, not monsters. A virus. It moved through his camp at Valley Forge, killing thousands of soldiers. Their particular virus was called smallpox, a disease that had plagued the Romans and even the ancient Egyptians.”
“Was it like Superpox-99?”
“In many ways it was. And do you know how General Washington eventually stopped its spread?”
She looked to Tanner, but he only shook his head.
“Sorry, Dr. Jarvis, we didn’t get to that in school.”
“Washington forced healthy soldiers to rub the pus from smallpox blisters into open wounds.”
“Yuck,” she said, making a face. “Didn’t that make them sick?”
“On the contrary. The human body is a miraculous thing. Introduce a pathogen in the right way, and the body makes antibodies capable of combatting it. In this case, the bold move left most of his soldiers inoculated against the deadly virus.”
“Wow, we should have done that with Superpox-99.”
“I’m sure the equivalent was tried.”
“But it didn’t work?”
“No.”
“You seem to know an awful lot about viruses,” said Tanner.
“I should. I was once a world-class virologist.”
Tanner studied him. There was definitely something important about Dr. Jarvis.
“Were you working on a cure?” asked Samantha.
He slowly shook his head. “No, that wasn’t to be my role in this.”
“It must be really hard to cure. My mom had all kinds of people—” She stopped when she felt Tanner bump her chair. “All I’m saying is that lots of people were working on it. You shouldn’t blame yourself, Dr. Jarvis.”
“No, my dear, I’m afraid you’re wrong about that too.”
Tanner leaned forward and placed his thick forearms on the table. It was time to push a little.
“What exactly did you do? Let’s have it.”
“If I tell you, you’ll likely murder me in my own home.”
“Could be. I’m a violent man, and I make no promises.”
Dr. Jarvis brought his hand to his mouth as if trying to hold back the words.
“Do you know what a patient zero is?”
“It’s the first person infected with something.”
Samantha looked over at him, surprised that Tanner knew something that she didn’t.
“That’s correct.” He paused as if preparing to make an important announcement. “Believe it or not, I am patient zero for Superpox-99, the very first person in all of history to be infected with the engineered virus.”
“I don’t understand,” said Samantha. “How could the virus just start up in someone?”
“It didn’t,” Tanner said, eying the doctor. “He contracted it somehow.”
Dr. Jarvis nodded. “I worked with the virus as part of a biological weapons research program.”
“Oh, I get it,” she said. “You pricked your finger on something in the lab.”
He said nothing, and in that silence, Tanner finally found his answer. Dr. Jarvis had given himself the virus not out of accidence, but out of malice. There could be but one reason for such an action.
“You intentionally started all this,” he breathed.
Dr. Jarvis turned and looked out the window.
“You have to understand. I saw a planet on the brink of ruin.”
“Yeah, not healthy like it is now.”
“I thought that I could clean it, give it a fresh start.”
“Hold up a second,” Samantha said, leaning away from him. “What are you saying? That you spread the disease on purpose?”
Again, he refused to answer.
“How did you manage to survive?” asked Tanner. “I would have thought the first person infected would have suffered the worst.”
“With some diseases, yes, but not with Superpox-99. I certainly suffered. Oh, God, did I suffer. But in the end, my body found a way to live with the virus.”
“Billions of others weren’t so lucky,” he growled. “Women. Children. Babies.”
Dr. Jarvis nodded, but said nothing as small inky drops formed in the corners of his eyes.
“It didn’t only kill people,” continued Tanner. “It changed them. How’s that possible?”
“My body mutated the virus. That’s not so uncommon in the first host, but no one, not even I, could have predicted the extent o
f the mutation. What was passed on was…” He shook his head. “It was something unnatural.”
“What the hell does that mean?” Tanner felt anger welling in his gut. A lot of good people had died, and he didn’t hear nearly enough remorse in the good doctor’s voice.
“The virus causes rapid mutation to help the host adapt to their environment. Unfortunately, it also introduces a violent hatred for all those who aren’t infected.”
“That’s why the Backson was so big,” said Samantha. “It had adapted to a dark tunnel filled with rotting bodies.”
“That’s just great,” growled Tanner. “Thanks, Doc. Thanks for everything.”
“Can’t you come up with a cure?” asked Samantha. “If you started it, you should be able to stop it.”
Tanner was about to tell her that men like Dr. Jarvis felt no such responsibility, when the doctor surprised him.
“That’s just it. I am going to stop it. Well, not stop it exactly, but keep it from killing off the few of us who remain.”
Tanner stared at him, trying to sort fact from bullshit.
“How do you plan to do that?”
Dr. Jarvis pulled his swollen lips back in a smile that sent a shiver down Tanner’s spine.
“The answer is in my blood.” When no one said anything, he continued. “I am patient zero, the only person in the entire world who possesses the original pure virus. Just as George Washington used the fluids from those infected with smallpox to inoculate others, so can my blood be used to help mankind.”
“I don’t know if you’ve noticed, Doc, but it’s too late for that. The world’s already gone to shit. Stopping the spread of the disease is of little importance now.”
“You’re right, of course,” he said quickly, “but you don’t understand. My blood can do much more than just stop the spread of Superpox-99.”
“What can it do?” asked Samantha, hope creeping into her voice.
“I’m convinced that a person with even a small amount of my blood in their veins will no longer cause a hostile reaction by those who are infected.”
“Wouldn’t that only work for people with the same flavor of blood as yours?” she asked.
Dr. Jarvis raised an eyebrow.
“You mean the same type?”
“That’s what I said, isn’t it?” She looked to Tanner, and he nodded.
Battle Lines (The Survivalist Book 5) Page 9