by Addison Gunn
“To be more specific, it’s not that we’re missing something. It’s just not going to work.”
“Can you experiment with the formulas? Use them as a stepping-off point?”
Dr. Dalton shook her head. “The anti-parasitic you distributed from the air-bombs was a broad-spectrum anti-parasitic, which is used to treat a generalized variety of primitive protozoal, helminthic, and viral infections.”
“Okay,” Lewis said, uncertainly.
“Then you distributed the wasps, which was a dismal attempt at disrupting their reproductive cycle, but did nothing to stop them from spreading and created a sub-class of lesser Infected.”
“Get to the point, doctor,” Gray said, looking stern.
“My point is, in messing with the existing parasite you’ve created two separate strains, and thus we’re going to need two separate cures. The one Mehta gave us is no more precise against either strain than the one you used in the air bombs. It’s too broad. It’s not tailor-designed for the Archaean parasite or its mutation. It’ll be no more effective than the last two attempts.”
Miller sighed. “What about the anti-fungal agent?”
“Again, it’s a simple azole drug used to disrupt the growth of fungal membrane. It’ll help a little, but azoles have been known to cause liver damage, affect estrogen levels in women and men, and cause severe allergic reactions in humans, including anaphylaxis and death.”
“So what have we got, doctor?” Lewis asked.
“Nothing, gentlemen,” she said. “We have nothing. We have an anti-parasitic that doesn’t touch the Archaean parasite, and an anti-fungal agent which could kill millions.”
Miller ran his hands through his hair and stretched his aching joints. He wished he were surprised.
“Is it enough for an ongoing cure?” Gray asked.
Dr. Dalton blinked. “I’m not sure I...”
“Is it fighting the parasite at all?” Gray expounded. “Can it slow things down?”
“It can’t even break the sub-cellular membrane of the protozoa. The samples we have of the Archaean parasite aren’t degrading at all.”
“How old are these samples?”
“Since New York,” she said. “We’ve had them in liquid nitrogen, so there’s very little decomposition. Fresh samples might react differently, of course.”
“And things have changed since New York,” Miller said. “There’s been further mutation within the Infected. I’ve seen it. Before, if they’d communed, they were literally unable to harm one another. Something to do with their shared over-developed sense of empathy, I think; who knows? But from what I saw in Baltimore, they have no problem with that now. They shot at the Infected Army without a moment’s hesitation and the Army shot back. What if the solution isn’t working because we’re testing it on an old version of the parasite?”
Dr. Dalton nodded slowly. “We’ve had the same thought. But, how are we supposed to get a sample of the evolved parasite?”
Lewis, Gray and Miller shared a look.
“What if I got you a blood sample,” Miller said. “Will that suffice?”
“Yes,” she said, “but how...?”
Miller stood from the table. “You got a kit I can borrow? I’ll be right back.”
37
SAM PRISED THE plank from Binh’s hands and fought the urge to slap him over the head with it.
“We’ve got to get out of here!” Binh cried, grabbing for it.
Sam held it out of reach. “You can’t start a fire on a ship! Stop it!”
Behind her at the bar, three of her followers had broken off the end of the wooden countertop and tossed the pieces into a pile on the floor.
The last sat on the floor beside the shredded parachute, chewing small patches of fabric and spitting them into her palms. She’d told Samantha she planned to spitball the soldiers in the eye to infect them the moment they came back inside with food and water. Sam had tried to confiscate the nylon when Binh and the others had started tearing the place apart, presumably to burn their way out of the bar and to freedom—as if almost burning to death at the Johns Hopkins research facility wasn’t proof enough of what a bad idea that was.
Samantha had lost control. For whatever reason, they no longer heeded her influence and were circling the room like a pack of wild dogs, waiting to pounce. She’d tried pulsing calm energy through Binh, had even attempted to start a chain—like the one back at the labor camp—but nothing seemed to reach them. They’d gone feral and turned against her.
In their defence, everything she’d told them wouldn’t happen had. They were prisoners of the humans. They were trapped on the ship. Binh had shouted at her for nearly an hour how they never should have come on board in the first place, and she understood exactly why. A part of her even wondered if he were right.
Miller, who had made no promises, was true to his word. He’d brought food and water, but that was all. It’d been days since they’d snuck aboard, and yet he’d made no mention of the anti-parasitic or anti-fungal solutions, and neither had his cronies—no matter how many times Sam prodded them when they brought the food and water.
To add insult to injury, the food was awful. Watery, foul-smelling fish soup with lumps of biscuits as tough as rocks. Vegetable and grain stew with chunks of protein substitute. Even the water tasted funny.
Maybe it was the sick-smelling sea air. Perhaps the constant sway of the ship was driving them to distraction. Or the fact that neither of the bathrooms was fully functional, and the place had begun to smell. It could have been any number of things. Any way she looked at it, Samantha was screwed.
“You want to tell the whole ship we’re here?” Sam yelled at Binh. “What do you think the captain of this ship will do when he finds out we’re hiding in here?”
“He probably knows,” Binh said, grabbing the plank from Sam’s hands. “They’re keeping us here to experiment on us. How else are they going to see if the formula works?”
“They’re what?” cried one of the others at the bar.
“What are we going to do?” another one of them cried.
“We’ve got to get out of here!” Binh bellowed again.
“Stop!” Sam cried. “All of you, stop! Don’t make this worse!”
Binh raised the plank over his head like a mallet. “How can it get any worse?”
There was a knock at the door.
Sam glanced at the window on the port side and saw the red tinge of sunset. Another round of horrid food was due. She hoped it was the Chinese woman this time; she was certain the other one would kill her at any moment.
To her surprise, it was Miller. He held no tray in his hands, however, and he was accompanied by the dark woman Sam didn’t trust.
The Infected had quieted. Stunned into silence, they’d taken a moment from their destruction and eyed the open door behind the armed soldier—fighting the temptation to run, no doubt. Given the woman’s expression, they’d be a fool to try.
Sam supposed that was the point. “What do you want? We’re going stir crazy in here. Do you have the solutions yet?”
Alex clenched his jaw and cast a wary eye across the Infected behind the bar. “Doing some redecorating?”
“They’re anxious, Alex. We need to get out of here. Where’s my solution? Why haven’t you given it to me like you promised?”
“As soon as I can, I’ll do just that. Believe me. But if you do something for me, I can speed up that process.”
“Wasn’t covering your ass at the research facility enough? I lost most of my commune. What else do you want from me?”
“Your blood,” he said, swallowing thickly. “A blood sample from you, and one of the others.”
“You see?” Binh cried. “I was right!”
Sam tried to keep her head. “Why?”
“For research on the formulas we recovered. We need fresh samples of the parasite.”
Sam gritted her teeth and squinted at him. She couldn’t tell if he was lying, but he s
ure as hell didn’t look like he was telling her the truth, either. “You can’t just come in here and change the parameters of our deal. This is bullshit.”
“I’m sorry, Sam,” he said. That, at least, sounded sincere. “But the moment we came aboard, I was no longer in command. It’s out of my hands. I’m doing the best I can for you, but this is a sticky situation. You never should have come back with us; I told you that.”
“We had a deal,” Sam said, her breath tight in her chest. “I want that solution.” What she truly wanted was a moment away from her commune to talk to Alex in private, but if she left the room she wasn’t sure what would become of them. They were still her responsibility, even if they didn’t think they were.
“I know we had a deal,” Alex said. “If you give me the blood samples, I promise I won’t ask for anything else from you. I swear.”
“Your promises mean shit, Alex.”
He looked wounded at that, but it couldn’t be helped. She was right and they both knew it. “What choice do you have?”
He had a point, the way things were going. Soon things would degrade into chaos and she’d have a decision to make: was she willing to sacrifice Binh and the others to gain her own freedom?
Originally, she’d have said no. In retrospect, she should have offered to come with Alex alone and left Binh and the others in Baltimore to fend for themselves. They would have been captured and recruited into the U.S. Army, and none of them would have been the worse for the wear. But instead she’d been selfish—something she didn’t realize an Infected could be.
Sam grabbed hold of her sleeve and pulled it up over her elbow, extending her arm in Alex’s direction. “Binh?” she called, nodding at him to approach. “You too.”
Alex reached into the satchel slung over his shoulder and pulled out a pressure-release needle and collection kit. He pressed the circular plunger onto the crook of her arm, then pressed the trigger at the end.
She winced as the needle punctured her vein, but said nothing as they watched the vial fill.
“I appreciate this,” he said.
Sam’s breathing hastened, but she held her arm still. “Fuck you.”
38
REPAIRS TO THE RN ship were nearly completed by the fourth day in the Chesapeake Bay.
Miller sat in Gray’s office, anticipating the announcement that they would shortly be underway. This posed a great many problems, the first of which was what to do with the Infected still aboard.
“I want to thank you for coming tonight,” Gray said. He nodded at Miller, looking off-color. “On such short notice.”
Miller sat beside Lewis at the ping-pong table and tried to ignore the mounting pressure behind his eyes. He didn’t like emergency meetings. He didn’t trust them. If it wasn’t about the repairs, it most likely involved some security breach on one of the smaller vessels in the S-Y fleet. Miller and Cobalt had been too wrapped up in keeping the Infected from burning a hole in the ship to know if there’d been an incident.
Gray stood and rubbed the heel of his palm into his left eye. “I realize it’s late,” he added, “but I have a proposition that I think would benefit not only the occupants of the Tevatnoa and the S-Y fleet, but the whole of the world.”
“Okay,” Miller said. “I’m all ears.”
“I’ve spoken with Dr. Kapoor and Dr. Dalton—they’ve been working tirelessly on the incomplete formulas and now believe, with a bit of trial and error, they can construct an anti-parasitic formula that will attack both strains of the Archaean parasite. Using the research you obtained in Baltimore in combination with the medical research Bob Harris acquired in Astoria, they think it can be accomplished in less than a year.”
Miller’s stomach lurched. “You mean the research Harris got by experimenting on an entire Infected population in Astoria? That research?”
“Dr. Kapoor feels there is a vast amount of useful information, particularly with regards to the way the parasite affects the host’s immune system.”
Miller face had gone hot. “Why would you use that?”
“It’s very helpful...”
“He tortured people,” Miller said. He was on his feet, despite not knowing when he’d stood. “Alive.”
Gray licked his lips, then bit down on the corner of his mouth. “I realize the conditions weren’t optimal...”
Lewis leaned onto the back legs of his folding chair and crossed his arms. “What’s your proposition, Gray? Because it sounds to me like there’s more to this meeting than using old research, am I right?”
Gray pursed his lips. “I propose we use the six Infected aboard as test subjects, so Dr. Kapoor can further Harris’s research.”
Lewis sighed heavily. “There it is.”
Miller’s skin prickled, and his fingers felt numb. “You’ve gone mad,” he said, glaring at Gray.
Gray balled his hands into fists, his face unyielding. “I’m not asking permission...”
“I blew up New York City,” Miller said, seeing red. “I slaughtered millions of people—millions, you understand? All in the name of humanity. I strapped a nuclear bomb to Bob Harris’s lap in order to stop him from furthering that research. To stop him from making things worse—which he had. Repeatedly. And you agreed.” He pointed his finger at Gray, fighting the urge to sock the asshole across the chin right then and there. “And now you want to pick up where he left off?”
He shook his head. “No, Gray. No way in hell. We have not sunk that far. Use Harris’s research, fine—that damage can’t be undone—but to continue it? Are you high? Have we sunk so low that we are right back where we started?”
Gray said nothing. Miller glowered, and Gray stood like a statue of resignation, emotionless and unfeeling. Miller wondered if the man’s humanity hadn’t died with his son.
Lewis raised his hand. “Now, hold on, Miller. Let’s think this through.”
“Hold on?” Miller spat. “You hold the fuck on. You can’t be on board with this.”
“I didn’t say that, but...”
“But nothing, sir,” Miller raged. “Those people are my responsibility. I promised them safe passage. You’ll touch them over my dead body.”
“Son…” Lewis said, his tone warning.
“I’m not your fucking son,” Miller said. Turning from them both, he barged from the room and headed across deck, straight toward the stairwell down to the residential compartments. Tapping his ear, he opened a com channel. “Cobalt. We have an emergency. All hands on deck.”
Doyle’s slurred words drawled over the airwaves. “Wassup, boss?”
“Hsiung, get your ass to the railgun turret and disable it.”
“You want me to what?”
“Do it now!”
“Yes, sir.”
“Morland, ready a mega-lifeboat for immediate departure.”
“Are we going someplace, sir?”
“Quit chattering and just listen!” Miller shouted. “Du Trieux, are you at the Crow’s Nest?”
“Yes, sir?”
“Ready the occupants for travel.”
“With pleasure, sir.”
“And du Trieux, what’s the passcode for your residential compartment? I need that crate.”
Morland answered. “It’s 6-3-6-4.”
Doyle’s cackling laughter sounded over the com. “I knew it!”
“Doyle, hobble your ass up to the communications antennas and take out the short-range array, including the radar. No messages get to the RN ship. None. Take them all down if you have to.”
“Sounds like fun.”
“You have two minutes, Cobalt,” Miller snapped over the line. “Meet resistance with non-lethal but necessary force.”
“Yes, sir,” they answered, one after the other.
Miller pounded down the stairwell and hooked a left, passing through the residential courtyard mid-deck and skirting a group of civilians holding some sort of memorial service.
Du Trieux’s cabin was on the far end of a hallway,
tucked between a disabled elevator and a maid’s closet. After tapping in the code, Miller found the crate stashed on the side of her bed and wedged close to the wall.
Grabbing it, he heaved the crate onto his shoulder, closed the door behind him and made his way back to the stairwell.
“Sir,” Morland spoke over the com. “I had to incapacitate a couple of patrols on the second deck. I’m not sure how long they’ll be out.”
“Deactivate their radios, zip tie them together, take their weapons, and stash them someplace they can’t be heard.”
“Working on that now, sir.”
Miller reached the second floor and ventured to the perimeter walkway. The mega-lifeboats sat covered and silent to his right. He hooked across the deck to the starboard side, since the RN Bay Class ship sat to their port. “Trix? How’s it going?”
“I’m being met with a little resistance,” she said. “But we’re on our way.”
“I’m on starboard. Get rough if you have to.”
“Already there,” she replied.
Miller set the crate down on the floor and picked a lifeboat at random. He had the cover off and the launch sequence ready to go by the time Morland came back.
Hsiung’s voice sounded over the com. “Power’s off to the railgun turret and I’ve disabled the controls at the source.”
“Copy that,” Miller replied. “Doyle?”
A series of grunting and groans was heard over the com. “This is going to set my rehab back a few weeks. And why send the cripple to do the climbing job?”
“You’re least likely to be found up there and have to engage. Is it done?”
“Nearly,” was his strained reply.
Miller heard footsteps approaching from behind and turned. Du Trieux and Samantha led the group of confused, angry-looking Infected straight toward him.
“Alex, what’s going on?”
“No time to explain. Get aboard.”
She stepped over the mega-lifeboat threshold, but stopped just inside. “Where are my formulas?”