Resistant, no. 1

by Ryan T. Petty

“What?”

  “She doesn’t know you are actually resistant.”

  “Why does that matter?” asked Higgins.

  “Because we can use that against her and maybe she’ll tell us something we need to know. Jennifer, we’ll need your help.”

  “What can I do?”

  “Just stand there and scare the hell out of her.”

  * * * *

  We waited for the outside air to be vacuumed from the glass room before we entered, but we continued to wear our masks. Clarissa stood up from the far corner of the room, smiling at Michael and the Lieutenant, but frowning when she saw me.

  “What is she doing here?”

  “She is joining you, Clarissa,” Higgins responded.

  “What? What does she mean, Captain?”

  “It’s Michael now, Clar-bear. I’m not a captain anymore,” he said sadly. “The council took away all of my rank after the stunt you pulled. They said if my own sister is not even going to follow orders, then I didn’t need to be in charge of the defenses here.”

  Clarissa was about to speak to him, but I could tell she was confused.

  “It’s true. Rodriguez and I will be taking over after this last action here,” Higgins said.

  “What? Bringing her out here?”

  “No. The council ordered her out. She’s infected after all. She wasn’t immune to the bite from the Deracine you captured. She’s SA4, so she has no idea where she is right now.”

  Clarissa looked at me, a hint of sorrow in her eyes, but she wouldn’t relent.

  “Well, what’s that have to do with me?”

  “Because you got two other soldiers killed,” Michael continued, “and because you committed such a brutal action against another person here, on top of refusing to answer our questions now, the council ordered you to die by execution.”

  “I thought this was the most fitting,” Higgins said. “We are going to take Jennifer’s mask off here. Michael said you are SA1, so it shouldn’t take long.”

  “Wait? You can’t do this! Michael, please!”

  “It’s out of my hands, Clarissa,” he said, his voice almost breaking, “I hoped it wouldn’t end this way. I’m sorry I failed you though, because I love you very much.”

  Higgins motioned to the door and Michael turned toward me and grabbed the fasteners on each side of my mask.

  “Wait, please. I was ordered to do this! Stevenson told me to get rid of her.” Michael looked at her, taking his hands off my mask.

  “Continue.”

  “He said to take her out and do what I had to do. I thought she would be infected and die or just go away. I knew she couldn’t be resistant. No one is.”

  Michael gave me a wink and a smile, before turning to her.

  “Well, she is, actually,” he snapped at her as I smiled through the mask. “You on the other hand are in major trouble.” He backed her up, but tried to control his anger. “But right now, we have to go confront the viceroy.” He pushed an extra mask into her hands. Once on, Higgins opened the door and we all left the room, with Clarissa glaring at me as she walked past.

  Chapter Seventeen

  We didn’t hear the bullets until they riddled the ground in front of us, cutting Lt. Higgins down. She fell in front of me hard, wounded through the chest and leg. Michael grabbed my arm and forced me behind the wall of the quarantine building where Clarissa was being held.

  “Code One! Code One! Everyone at their stations! We’re under attack!” The bullets ripped through the top of the building we were standing next to.

  “Run!”

  All three of us ran together toward Block A, as determined soldiers started to come from it, armed with assault rifles. I looked back to see a stream of smoke fly over the first quarantine building. As the missile struck Q2, the quarantine building exploded. I felt a forceful push throw me to the ground, away from the debris, as chunks of brick and shingles fell on top of me.

  Everything went quiet. I could feel the soft dirt and moist grass in my hands and against my face. There was an enormous pressure on my back I couldn’t lift off. When I finally opened my eyes, there was darkness, except out of the corner of my eye. Soldiers’ boots went past me as the noises of violence returned. Slowly, the weight was lifted off my back.

  “Get up! Get up!”

  Clarissa grabbed my arm and pulled me from under part of the roof that had fallen upon me. I limped forward, in pain, with Clarissa practically dragging me along.

  “Where’s Michael?”

  “Get inside!”

  “Where’s Michael?” I screamed, but she pushed me into the building.

  “He did his job, now let’s do ours!”

  I fought the urge to run back out after him. He had done my training, but my emotions warred with my common sense. Clarissa continued to pull me along the hallways, as people fought their way toward the training door. Women screamed frantically as they placed masks on themselves.

  “Alamo! Alamo!” Clarissa yelled, waving the women forward toward the staircase, taking control of the situation quickly. I stood there in shock as precious seconds passed by, but slowly my training came to me and I ran up the stairs past those coming down.

  “Jennifer!” Clarissa yelled, “Jennifer!”

  I ran up to where Michael had taken me before and saw Lt. Rodriguez and one other soldier headed toward the roof as well. Without hesitation, Rodriguez gave me a bag he was carrying and I took a long tube from the other soldier. Once we got out both doors, we saw the commotion down below us.

  The compound had been attacked from the tree line by grenade launchers. Not only had they hit the quarantine building, but they had destroyed one of the watchtowers up front. Soldiers had been thrown from it and their bodies lay still underneath the wreckage.

  “Got to go! Ándele!” Rodriguez yelled as he loaded the first few rounds into the large weapon. The other soldier pulled back the lever and prepared to fire.

  “Duck!” I yelled as a rocket flew past us and over the building, hitting the Block B family complex and immediately catching it on fire.

  “Oh, my God,” said the other soldier, looking at the destruction. “Those people.”

  But as we set up the mini-gun, all of the rifles went silent down below us. I looked to see soldiers standing at the fence, not shooting, but waiting, staring at the tree line in the distance. I too waited, finally hearing the screams that grew louder each second.

  Running as fast as they could, SA8 psychopaths came forward by the dozens, growling and snarling as they did. Our soldiers began to fire as quickly as possible, but the Déracinés hit the fence and immediately started climbing over it, not stopping even for the razor wire at the top.

  Bullets ripped from the tree line again, and cruised across the top of the building and pinged off the gun. I fell to the roof again, but heard the bullets thud into the other soldier behind me, dropping him quickly.

  “Jennifer, you hit?” Rodriguez asked.

  “No.”

  “Then I need you to fire!”

  I nodded, jumping back up quickly.

  Instinctively, I grabbed the handle and pulled back on the trigger. The barrels before me quickly began to spin and the repetitious clank of bullets firing through the cylinders was deafening. Still, I managed to point the gun toward the fence, first hitting the Déracinés at the top of it and then swiping across the ones that continued to come forward, cutting them down one by one. When the bullets stopped, I let go of the handles and stared at the scores of dead who lay just beyond the fence.

  Our soldiers began to cheer with excitement, but machine gun fire opened up from the tree line again. Lt. Rodriguez pulled me down to the roof, as bullets ricocheted off the mini-gun and the façade of the building. When we looked over again, many of those soldiers at the fence were on the ground, wounded or dead. Still others held firm, awaiting the next assault. I tried to skim over to where I last saw Michael, but now saw only smoke and debris.

  “Reload,” yel
led Rodriguez, starting the next line of bullets to be fed into the machine. This time, I pulled back the lever, loading the first round, but when I looked out, I saw more people than what I was expecting. They had only come out of the tree line, not running like those before them, but screaming as they walked forward. Waving their circle and triangle banner, they shot with deadly accuracy. In the clearing, I saw two figures, one wearing a long, black coat and the other shirtless, but thick with heavy, black paint.

  “Damien,” I said to myself as chill bumps ran up my arm.

  “Jennifer, fire!”

  I pulled back on the trigger and pointed the weapon toward the masses of armed people coming forward, hitting many and watching them fall to the ground. But there just didn’t seem to be enough bullets or time to get everyone. The barrels rolled to an end again.

  “Load it,” I shouted, but Rodriguez shook his head.

  “We just went through five hundred rounds. That’s all we had.” My heart dropped as I looked out at the carnage before us.

  “We have to go help.”

  Rodriguez looked at me and then at the rocket launchers.

  “They are too sparse for those,” he concluded, but soon he headed toward the door, not even letting the air clear out before we headed down. We met Clarissa in the hallway of the first floor.

  “All civs in the Alamo. I’ve ordered a retreat into the building,” she said immediately.

  “Where’s Michael?” asked Rodriguez.

  “He and Higgins went down in the initial assault,” she said to him, but looked at me.

  “No—”

  “You’re in charge, Lieutenant,” Clarissa said, silencing me.

  “Is there a brink yet?” he asked.

  “Front gate was hit, so it’s only a matter of time.”

  Rodriguez nodded. “When the last soldier gets in, Rolling Thunder.”

  “Yes, Sir.” Clarissa ran toward the front door.

  “What is that?” I asked.

  “When we get everyone living in, we blow the fence and the yard with buried explosives.”

  “But what about the wounded? What about Michael?” I started toward the door, but Rodriguez grabbed me.

  “Stop! Let go!”

  “He didn’t give his life for you to die like that, chica!” He pulled me back with him, toward the stairwell leading to the Alamo. He pushed me in as I fought with him, screaming and cursing for him to let me go. It was just a few moments later when Clarissa ran back through with the last few soldiers.

  “That’s it, Lieutenant,” she said, as she and a couple of others slid the large, metal door closed behind them, a final metallic thud closing me away from Michael. Rodriguez let me go, but Clarissa easily stopped me at the door. She didn’t say anything and I didn’t try to struggle against her strength. My eyes filled with tears as I looked at her, knowing she had lost Michael too. I pulled off my mask and leaned forward as she let me cry upon her shoulder.

  Rodriguez turned a knob and opened a box next to the door. On the keypad, he entered in a few numbers that turned a red light to green. A digital countdown also started from ten seconds. When the last one clicked away, the lights went out as the foundation of the building practically moved under our feet. The explosion was deafening, even behind the solid metal door.

  “Put your mask back on,” Clarissa said, but in the kindest way. I did as she requested. She also handed me a rifle.

  “Counterattack in three, two, one, go!”

  Clarissa and two others unlocked and pulled the door open as soldiers rushed past them, ready to reengage the Deracine army. Again, Rodriguez held me back until the very last soldier went out.

  As we entered the yard, everything looked different. The ground had been churned up and scorched, and was still smoldering from the explosions. Debris from the buildings was everywhere, and I could tell there would be no living in the women’s barracks ever again.

  Along with destruction was the sight of death as bodies of soldiers and Déracinés alike were torn to shreds from the blast and unrecognizable. The fireball that ensued after the explosion scorched them to a charred gray. Still, the soldiers went forward just like they had done during training. But I ran past them, desperately trying to find Michael.

  “Jennifer,” yelled Rodriguez, but I didn’t stop, not until I got to the front of the compound.

  Soldiers came forward as well, but there was no sign of the Déracinés. Still, much of the fence had been destroyed and we had lost many troopers, including Michael.

  “He went down here,” I said, looking at the debris of the building. “He pushed me out of the way and saved my life.”

  “Then you owe him your life, so quit running around trying to get yourself killed,” Rodriguez ordered, but I hardly listened. “Sergeant, let’s check for wounded and get them inside. Not much we can do for them though. If they’re severely wounded, they will probably be infected. You know what to do.”

  “Yes, sir,” Clarissa said, looking over the mound of debris where Michael had been. Slowly, she turned away and went about her job.

  “And you will go back inside and wait in the corridors for further instructions,” he told me before walking away. But I knelt down next to the rubble, touching my fingers to my lips and then down on the stone. I didn’t want to be there when they pulled his lifeless body to the surface.

  “Thank you, my captain.”

  As I stood, I saw a small movement of a stone. Finally, a bloody hand pushed through the rubble and rose as high as it could, before falling limp.

  “Michael.”

  * * * *

  “He’s over here! He’s over here!” I stepped over the debris, trying to reach him. Clarissa and another soldier followed me and we began digging through the stone, guided by the now lifeless arm. I pulled up a piece of plywood and saw Michael’s marred face underneath it.

  “Stretcher! We need a stretcher over here!” yelled Clarissa, seeing her brother. We continued to dig until we were able to slowly pull him from his shallow grave. His camouflaged fatigues were torn to shreds, and blood oozed from his forehead, knee, and side. Still, his heart was beating, but just barely.

  “His mask,” Clarissa said, “it’s broken.” She looked at me, but I didn’t say anything. Strapping him to the stretcher, four other men walked him to the front of the building. Wellstone was on the way out as we came in. He looked at Michael and then at me.

  “I’ll do what I can,” he said, but I could see the same look Clarissa had given me. With his mask broken, Michael could have been breathing in the virus and may have already been infected, especially around so many Déracinés.

  “Take all wounded to the cells and lock them in,” Rodriguez said, “Block A and B have been hit, so the cells there should be fine in case they change.”

  “What about the Deracine wounded?” someone asked.

  “If you are able to get them in without a fight, then do so. Otherwise, kill them.” Rodriguez looked at me. “See, there’s still a little bit of humanity left in me, chica.”

  I accompanied Michael to his cell, still wearing my mask, hoping the gashes in his body would heal, and he would recover. When he was placed on his bed, the soldiers left us alone, reminding me to lock the door when I left. Still, I couldn’t leave him and began to cry as I held his bloody hand.

  “Sounds like you’re at my funeral,” he barely mumbled with his eyes still closed.

  “Michael.” I knelt down next to him, restraining myself from throwing my arms around his injured body, but kissed his hand instead, letting him know I was there.

  “I’m still here,” he said.

  “So am I,” I whispered next to his ear. He smiled just for a bit, but his face soon relaxed and he was out again.

  I ran from his cell, finding Wellstone in the lower hallway, directing the triage that was now being performed on those who still wore masks and were known to be uninfected.

  “He’s alive,” I told him as he wrapped a soldier’
s arm with bandages. He continued to walk, as if he didn’t hear me.

  “If there are any major wounds or broken skin, they need to be taken to a cell to begin their quarantine period,” he yelled out. “Make sure their masks are not broken too, or we are going to have a larger group of Déracinés in cages than we ever wanted.”

  “Wellstone, didn’t you hear me? Michael’s alive.”

  He smiled just for a second. “Hey, that great news,” he said, but continued on his duty before I grabbed his arm.

  “What is it?”

  “Jennifer, you know we have big problems,” he said quietly in all the noise. “A large part of Block B was hit, and we lost most of our medicine and equipment in the fire that ensued.”

  “And your lab?”

  “Gone, as well as any chance to come up with a vaccine anytime soon. Most of these soldiers will need to be killed by this time tomorrow,” he said.

  I turned and looked at the front door, still seeing others coming in, bloody, hurting and in pain. With any luck the virus had not entered their wounds. With any luck they would survive.

  “Where is the closest area we can get medical equipment?” I asked Wellstone.

  “The hospital, but it’s been swarming with Déracinés for years now.”

  I tried not to hear the last part as I left the building.

  * * * *

  Clarissa gave me a dirty look as I approached.

  “We could’ve used your help down here.”

  “I’m sorry, but Wellstone is nearly out of everything. We have to get him medical supplies or many of these people are going to—”

  “Die? Yeah, they will probably do that by tomorrow anyway.”

  “Sergeant,” said Stacey.

  “Don’t Sergeant me. I know what’s going to happen with them. Tomorrow we will have to go around putting bullets in everyone’s skull, including my brother’s.”

  “It doesn’t have to be that way.”

  “Why? Because you might hold an answer to a cure? Even if you do, it won’t save those men. It won’t save Michael.”