Disease X

by Garrett Williams

  “Stop, it’s me!” The man then proceeded to slide his bandana down to his neck and remove his cap. His face bore a five o’ clock shadow with a scar on his lower lip and his eyes, although expressing frustration, still shone a clear blue. “Geez Logan! Nearly broke my nose!” The man said as he held his nose with one hand and brushed his blonde hair to the side.

  “It wouldn’t have happened if you hadn’t surprised me like that,” Logan replied.

  The man picked himself up, groaned and replied, “Fair enough.” The man then reached into his back pocket and switched on a flashlight. He walked down the staircase with Logan following behind him, ever so silently.

  “Why’d you have to rush me like that?” Logan asked.

  “You would be amazed who’s watching and listening in these parts,” The man replied simply. “Even when you’re alone, they’ve got cameras watching every five feet,” The man continued. “Hopefully they’ll take our offer.”

  “What makes you think they will?” Logan asked in his low, gruff voice.

  “Sometime you’ve got to fight fire with fire, and remember, you’re our fire.”

  “Heh, with the proper payment and resources I am.”

  The two of them walked and approached a narrow corridor lined and crossed with several steam pipes and sewage pipes. The place reeked of waste water. They were in the sewers. The man stopped Logan and then pulled away a piece of soggy cardboard, revealing a hole in the wall. “He wants to meet you, so go on in,” the man stated. Logan shimmied through the thin hole, the man following behind him. Once they were both inside, the man reached his hand though the small hole and moved the cardboard back into place.

  They were both greeted by the appearance of a man sitting at a table, dressed in a button up shirt with grey slacks and loafers, glasses covering his green eyes. The man at the table examined Logan as the man with him moved the cardboard. The man with Logan turned around to greet the man at the table. “I see you got the memo about inconspicuous casual wear,” The man with Logan said.

  “So this is your secret weapon?” The man at the table asked casually.

  Logan eyed him with a sort of distrust and skepticism in his eyes. “Who are you?” Logan stated in a suspicious voice.

  “My apologies, I’m being very rude,” The man said in a snarky and matter-of-fact tone. The man examined the small room for any cameras or listening devices then said, “I’m Colonel Marcus Huntington. I am with the U.S. military forces and am currently in charge of containing the anti-cure movement known as the ‘Immortals’. Mr. Gavin, would you please adjust the lighting in here.” The man with Logan, Gavin, moved over to a pipe supporting a lantern and took that lantern and set it on the table. “Thank you,” Huntington said. “Please, sit down Logan.” Logan kept giving Huntington a stern look as pulled back a chair across from Huntington and sat down. Gavin sat down at the other end, facing both of his companions. Silence filled the air as Huntington and Logan continued the stare down.

  Gavin was eager to break the silence and began to talk. “So Colonel, my friend doesn’t exactly fully understand your personal appearance here or what you need. Do you mind filling him in?”

  “Gladly,” Huntington said.

  “I would have sent for a messenger for this assignment, but when your friend told me about your talent I had to see it for myself. Logan, do you know what connects all of us, healthy and sick alike?”

  “Christ?” Logan asked.

  “In the day and age we live in, no. Technology Mr. – what is your last name?”

  “Mind yours,” Logan replied forcefully.

  “Mr. Mind yours,” Huntington said.

  “How old are you?” Logan asked.

  “Twenty-five,” Huntington said with a stitch of pride.

  “A little young for colonel don’t you think?”

  “I’m accomplished in more ways than you know. In other words,” Huntington said. “I would very much like to see this ability of yours.”

  “I already did it,” Logan said smiling.

  “Logan, he’s young. Don’t screw with him,” Gavin whispered.

  “Gavin, I thought I was going to meet the other guy, why is this kid here?” Logan whispered back disgruntled.

  “He already told you. Besides, he said that he had more clearance than the guy we spoke to,” Gavin replied.

  “I can tell that there is still some distrust in the air around me. I understand why. I have had several other disguised gunmen patrolling the area above us,” The Colonel added nonchalantly.

  Gavin and Logan were surprised by this revelation as Logan was fingering the 9mm he had concealed in his coats inner pocket and Gavin took out his Spas 12 shotgun from the holster on his back and was holding it with both hands in his lap. All the while Huntington was still sitting calm and smiling a boisterous smile at the table.

  He saw Logan’s hand inside his overcoat and stated, “I suppose every man does have a right to bear arms, but how do two arms against forty-two sound?”

  “I would think that a colonel would be able to handle himself,” Logan mocked.

  “What are you doing?” Gavin said.

  “Oh, I am more than capable of eliminating a couple of miscreants like you,” Huntington said displeased.

  “Shut up,” Gavin said to Logan.

  “Yet you need forty-two armed men to back you up. I don’t suppose you still need mommy to tuck you in at night,” Logan said smiling.

  “Logan!” Gavin shouted, his voice echoing in the square room.

  “Is that a challenge?” Huntington said with frustration in his voice as he reached for the magnum revolver hidden in the back of his pants covered by his shirt.

  “I don’t know, I’m not sure if you’ve had the training,” Logan continued to mock.

  “I said I could take you. I have had training!” Huntington started to pull out his weapon as he said that.

  “I don’t see any discipline then. Are you sure you’re a soldier, boy?” Logan said for the last time.

  That was the final straw. The young man pulled out both his magnum and radio and stood pointing his gun at both of them. This caused Logan and Gavin to spring up, Logan pulling out his pistol and Gavin pointing his shotgun at Huntington.

  “Logan you dumb son of a –,” Gavin was cut off by Huntington’s voice speaking into his radio.

  “The deal is off, tear the place apart,” Huntington said into the radio, his voice echoing in the room.

  Silence, there was complete silence as the party stood still, ready for a fire fight. They waited even longer, yet there was still nothing. One minute had passed and still the results were the same. “Where are you, get in here!” Huntington shouted into the radio. Logan snickered as he was trying to make contact. “What’s with you?” Huntington said angrily.

  “You wanted a demonstration, correct?” Logan asked. With that being said Gavin sighed and lowered his weapon as did Logan. Huntington stood for a moment, and then lit up like a Christmas tree. Smiling and sinking back into his chair, he set his gun on the table.

  “Colonel, how are things going, I thought I heard a chair fall. Is something wrong?” A voice sounded from the radio.

  “Nothing’s wrong at all. I think I like where things are going down here,” Huntington replied to the voice in the radio then set it on the table. Gavin pulled his chair back up and the sat down, Logan still standing. “I will say I am impressed, the sick keep surprising me every day,” Huntington said.

  “Do we have a deal now?” Gavin asked with frustration in his eyes.

  “Depends, how do you fare in combat?” Huntington asked Logan.

  “I can manage,” Logan replied.

  “Prove it. We have someone else who snuck out of the quarantine zone and we need to capture him for further research. Then we’ll throw him back in. As promised your merry band of misfits will get the supplies that they need for a job well done.”

  “Who’s the guy?” Logan asked.

 
Huntington pulled a picture from his pocket and unfolded it, then gave it to the both of them. The picture was of an adult African American man with brown eyes and no hair. He also had a nose that seemed to point out like a needle and a small scar on his lower lip. Logan took a quick glance at the photo and then shut his eyes. In his mind he began to see several electrical ions take the form of a large moving database. The ions then began to take the form of the man in the picture he had just seen, and below the image in his mind formed the name of the man that he was shown. “Michael Stevens.” Logan stated.

  “Correct.”

  In Logan’s mind he could see Michael’s medical records, insurance, family, affiliates; everything that he needed was there. “Got him,” Logan said as he triangulated his location in his mind. “He’s at the Library on Leven Street,” Logan quoted from the image in his head.

  “You’ll need a car. I have one for you right above us,” Huntington said plainly.

  “Here, take this,” Huntington said as he slid his revolver over to the two men.

  Logan picked up the weapon and examined it. “Is that it?” Gavin said with confusion.

  “You’ll work your way up, I assure you,” Huntington said. Logan hid his new weapon in his second hidden pocket, opposite his pistol. Gavin and Logan then began to part ways with Huntington. However, before Logan could leave, Huntington said with a smug smile, “I’m surprised that, being a droid, you have a sense of humor, Logan.” Logan shrugged off this comment and continued on his way towards the surface.

  Crap! I am so extremely late. The thoughts of an adolescent girl rushed through her mind like a deck of cards in the hands of a professional dealer. Mariam’s going to kill me. The girl thought this as she proceeded to park her car behind an old building. One that, from the size, could be mistaken for a small church. She had gotten out and slammed the car door shut as she quickly walked up to the small steps leading to the back entrance. She slowly slid the door open, only enough to where here blue eyes could gaze into the back room for anyone that she did not want to be seen by. The girl then opened the door slightly so she could just slide through. She proceeded to slowly close the door and it made a faint creak and then a click as she closed it. When she turned around, a small elderly woman had suddenly appeared. Her wrinkled faced formed a frown with her beady eyes squinting in the young girl’s direction. The old woman’s white hair reflected the light coming from the room, whilst her black beaded necklace was showing small pieces of white as the light from the bulbs emitted their shine. She was also wearing a red dress that hung down to her heels. “You’re late,” The old woman said.

  The adolescent shrieked as she turned around to be confronted by the elder’s sudden appearance. “Please stop doing that!” the adolescent said with her back up to the door.

  “What was the hold up?”

  “My car battery wouldn’t start.”

  “We’ll talk later. For now, get dressed. The owners are coming in and everyone must look presentable.”

  “Got it, Mariam,” she said as she walked toward her locker. Inside was her typical work uniform. It consisted of a grey dress jacket with black slacks and a black shirt, along with some high heels.

  The girl took her uniform and went to the mirror to make sure her short, blonde hair was fixed correctly, and then preceded to the women’s restroom to change from her sleeveless white cargo jacket and green long sleeved shirt with blue jeans, into the more formal attire. Once she finished, she exited the staff room into a small area filled with whole shelves of books left and right and other fellow staff members filling empty spaces within the shelves with more books. The room was filled with tables and at the very front, across from her, was a registration desk, at which Mariam sat.

  She worked at a library. As the girl then began to help reshelf the books, she straightened out the nametag that read “Heather Kingston” on her grey suit. Heather walked up and greeted her fellow worker as she hastily began to take back her shift that another worker had covered for her.

  “Thanks Hector,” She said.

  “Don’t worry about it,” Hector said. Heather then continued where Hector left off and restocked the shelves.

  Julie was gazing around at several pieces of the old equipment that was used in conducting the Disease X program, which before the aftermath of the experiments was called “Project AD” or “Project Angel Drug.” Alex was listening intently to the tour guide as he continued to go on about how the project collapsed as one of the subjects broke out and began to infect civilians, while the other students in his class had blank expressions on their faces and tired eyes, pleading for the tour to be over.

  “The military then discovered that even though the disease is mostly in the genes, it is still possible to obtain the virus through blood transfer, such as through a vaccine or even though the blood entering through the eyes, nose, or mouth. Since then recent studies have been conducted to discover a way of making the blood cells die the instant they leave the body. Several militias have been formed and decided to use this knowledge to their advantage and in some ways ‘fight fire with fire’.” The tour guide said as they continued to make their way down the halls of the old Branford University.

  “We aren’t even supposed to be IN school today, why are we even still being associated with it then?” whispered one of the students in Alex’s class.

  “Hey look,” Julie whispered as she nudged Alex and pointed at a wall with a square board on it. The board held out racks holding small glass vials of black, thick liquid. Underneath each vial had a small, thin rectangular plaque with names written in them.

  “Those are the samples of the very first test subjects, and the sample of the one who broke out,” Alex whispered.

  “Look how old they are,” Julie replied.

  “Can you believe that those tiny things can cause so much trouble?”

  “I know. Holy crap.”

  The tour guide continued on about how the militias today have been either for or against the military, but either way, the public doesn’t want them because their methods can be somewhat uncivilized and prejudice. Alex had been walking beside Julie when he heard the sound of bare feet against concrete floor. He turned around only to find nothing until he saw what appeared to be toes jutting out from around the corner. He stopped without Julie or the rest of his class mates noticing and began to make his way over to the toes sticking from around the corner. He was just on the other side of toes as they suddenly began to bolt from their hiding spot, only to ram right into Alex and causing them both to fall to the floor. The toes turned out to be an old man in his sixties with a short, grey beard. He was wearing a torn up dress shirt and mangled grey pants covered in dirt. His grey eyes reeked of panic, as though he were being pursued by something terrible.

  Alex and the old man were just sitting up when they both heard the sound loud footsteps from behind. Glancing behind him, the old man scrambled to get to his feet when suddenly a loud pop went off. Alex’s eyes were closed as he felt a small blotch of liquid fall to his face. He could taste nickel, was it blood? Sure enough, it was and he felt it quickly run down the inside of his throat as he opened his eyes in a hurry, just in time to find the old man falling onto him, limp and lifeless with a hole in his chest. A soldier with a shotgun stood over the corpse of the old man, while Alex, frightened, pushed the corpse off of him. His classmates, the tour guide, and their teachers, while panicked, rushed to Alex’s side.

  Julie helped him up and asked in shock, “Wh-what happened!”

  “Get away from him! He’s infected, just look at him!” The soldier said as his other men soon entered the hall.

  In that instant, all of the friends that had crowded Alex soon jumped back from him, as though he were radioactive, even Julie. There was silence as the men crowded around him, guns pointed. “Come with us,” One of the soldiers said finally.

  “Go with them,” one of the teachers said.

  Alex looked back at his friends until J
ulie finally said, “Sorry, but you need to go,” In a sullen tone. Alex tried to touch her arm and she quickly stuttered away. “Don’t touch me!” She said, scared.

  Alex then looked toward the soldiers, knowing full well what they do to the infected, he just couldn’t believe it was happening to him. In a panic, Alex took off past his friends, knowing they wouldn’t shoot if there were pedestrians in the way. He kept running through the halls filled with guides and civilians until he reached the front entrance with the soldiers still closely behind. Then he was outside and it was open for the soldiers to fire. Nervous but thinking quickly, Alex ran through a nearby alleyway with the soldiers calling on reinforcements to flank him.

  Alex ran for what felt an eternity as the soldiers followed closely, letting off a few shots but missing him by a hair. Exhausted, Alex quickly ran out the other end of a network of narrow corridors with windows and ladders against them. He finally found a gun store out the end of the alley. Desperate, he attempted to run through it, hoping to get out through the back door. The front door slammed open as Alex burst through, catching the attention of several of the customers and even the owner. He ran through the confined space, knocking over several people and then falling over as he ran full force at a man in an overcoat and blue slacks with a grey sweater.

  “Ouch! What the hell, that stung!” said the stranger as he picked himself up. Alex was confused by this statement, normally being pushed wouldn’t feel like a sting. He saw the soldiers through the door he slammed open and he scrambled to get up. However, it was too late, as the soldiers then ran up and stood there pointing there weapons at him. Alex raised his hands in surrender as one of soldiers slowly walked up to him. “It’s okay kid, just come with us. We won’t hurt you, we just want to relocate y – “

  Before he could finish, the whole world had slowed to a crawl. Alex became startled and frightened when he noticed that everyone around him had begun moving like molasses, as though the whole world almost stood still. It was then that Alex saw that the strangers coat had been left open and past his grey sweater he could see a curved handle sticking out of his coat pocket. The shine of the small part of metal then caught his eye and, instinctively, he had grabbed the handle and jerked it out of the coat.