“You saw him? Was he big or small?”
Melanie nodded. “It was hard to tell from far away.”
“So he could’ve escaped then, no one would recognize him.”
“But he couldn’t possibly be here now, we’d know. The barracks at the end is closed and locked. The Marines were the only ones who went in. Whatever they found, they kept it from the rest of us and took the keys with them. This is, after all, a government facility—in the loosest possible way though, now that there isn’t much of a government.”
They walked back toward the main building, and Tara’s thoughts were swirling. “What do you think the fiber thing is, Melanie?”
“I honestly don’t know, Tara. I’m treating the sores topically with creams and alcohol wipes. Keeping the patient hydrated. I have no idea how to deal with it, or what the outcome will be. This is something new.” She shook her head, gathering her thoughts. “Once upon a time, plague, TB, pneumonia and all the others were new though too. They killed millions. Infections we never gave a second thought to will run rampant again. God help us when the antibiotics run out. We only have a handful left here in the dispensary and they will expire soon. Then I don’t know what we’ll do.”
Tara tried to direct her focus back on the problem at hand, still desperate to find a way to treat Clyde. “Have you ever heard of anything even remotely like this?”
“And apparently you think it’s contagious, right? Hence, the masks?” interjected Mary.
Melanie stopped walking and turned to them. “I think it might be, Mary.” Next she turned to Tara. “I’ve never seen anything like it. But I do remember reading something in a medical journal about a new disease—except they were thinking it was psychiatric in nature.”
Tara waited, hoping for an answer, anything to help Clyde.
“It’s called Morgellons Syndrome—terrible itching and crawling sensations, mental disturbances, sores, fever, and finally, colorful fibers beneath the skin—some really scary, nasty stuff. Half the medical establishment refused to accept that it was anything but a mental disorder, saying that the patients were scratching themselves raw and creating their own sores. The researchers even insisted the fibers consisted of clothing or blanket strands becoming embedded in the sores.”
“But Clyde has fibers under his skin—they aren’t on the surface! And so does that lady back there.”
Melanie nodded. “I know. What started to raise awareness and turn the tide of disbelief was a woman who’s two year old developed a fiber protruding from his lower lip. She started a website about it and things took off, with other sufferers joining in and begging to be taken seriously. I do know they were in the midst of a lot of research, trying to find out whether it was contagious. Right before Ebola hit, I heard Joni Mitchell had Morgellons. She was one of my favorite singers from back in the day. And at that point, they couldn’t even figure out if it was a real disease!”
“It’s real,” whispered Tara. The shocked expressions on Julie and Luke’s faces and the resigned one on Mary’s underscored the realness.
“I think I saved a medical paper on it, because of the Joni Mitchell connection. I loved her songs growing up. She was a musical genius, so somehow I doubted her symptoms were all in her head. That’s the first time I started to pay attention to Morgellons. I’m going to my office to dig that report up and see what I can find out.”
“How odd, I’ve never heard of it,” Mary said.
“That’s not surprising, Mary, it’s brand new. Just like Ebola, Lyme Disease, West Nile, Bird Flu and all the other “new” ones were not long ago,” Melanie said, making the quotation marks with her fingers. “Truth is, they’ve probably been around for centuries, but the medical establishment is sometimes slow to recognize their deadly potential. They’d rather label it psychiatric than admit they don’t know.”
This was not at all reassuring and Tara interrupted, desperate for her elderly friend. “Do you have any other ideas on how to treat Clyde? He’s so old and fragile, that’s the thing.” Tara was truly worried he wouldn’t make it.
“Put the steroid cream on his sores, keep him hydrated.” She glanced at Mary. “And watch for the signs he’s fading.” Mary and Julie both nodded, but Tara didn’t like the sound of this at all. She fell silent.
They reached the side door to the building and they all filed back inside.
“Not a word about this to anyone, okay?” Melanie asked. “No sense frightening them all silly until we know more. For now, the masks and Ebola precautions re-implemented should help.” They agreed and climbed the stairs to the classroom. Tara stopped Melanie on the landing.
“What do you really think, Melanie? Who is doing this? Who could be behind it? Do you honestly think the mad doctor guy is still around somewhere, doing experiments on people and giving them a new disease? Do you think it’s another situation like the one we just came through— with wider implications?”
Everyone waited for Melanie’s reply. She paused before she spoke, weighing her words.
“I only know this. Every madman has a plan and those who will follow him. Whether it’s an individual or someone wielding the power of government or military, unfortunately as Nietzsche said,‘Man is the cruelest animal.’”
She opened the door to the classroom and Julie and Mary followed her to the front. Tara made her way to a seat in back, watching the now-neutral faces of her friends as they began demonstrating basic first aid and nursing skills. They covered up well, wearing professional demeanors. But Tara could not focus at all and missed most of the first hour. All she could think about was that woman lying unconscious in the barracks and Clyde suffering alone in his bed.
Tara stood up quietly and excused herself as Melanie began demonstrating CPR. She saw Mary’s eyes follow her and Tara nodded. She needed to go check on Clyde.
~
It was full dark as Tara jogged around the river side of the old Kmart, heading for the path up the hill. She moved swiftly but silently, lost in thought about Clyde, the small tube of prednisone cream clutched tightly in one hand. Put it in your jacket, Tara, or you’ll drop it and never find it again in the dark. She followed her own advice, but kept one hand around it inside her pocket.
The steep hill slowed her down, but Tara kept moving. Near the top of the bluff, she had a moment’s thought about the graves just a short distance away through the trees. Their bikes were in the weeds in front of her, and she slowed, reaching down for hers, while visually scanning the vicinity of the graveyard.
Someone’s over there! Distinct movement came from that direction, a blacker shadow weaving among the trees. Tara dropped to a crouch. Probably just a deer, lots of them out now. Tara stared, waiting. The shadow came closer, it walked on two legs—definitely not a deer. Fear flooded her, and she quietly got down on her hands and knees in the waist-high weeds. She heard footsteps crunching away on last year’s brown leaves, and waited until they reached the road. She raised her head very slowly, just above the tops of the tall brush.
It was far too dark to make out anything other than the shape walking away down the road toward town. He seemed to be pulling a small yard cart behind him. Tara waited until there was no chance he would hear, then ran lightly toward the woods from where he had come.
She tried to see past the deadfall barricading the graveyard, but it was simply too dark. She squinted, scanning the ground to spot changes since she had last been here. Something white. Fear and adrenalin coursed through her, but she couldn’t leave until she investigated. It’s not the Trilliums, they’re over that way. She turned back toward the road, barely able to see him now through the trees. It’s safe. He’s too far away to hear me.
Tara scrambled up and over the stacked logs, dropping the last two feet to the soft ground. She proceeded straight to the whitish object in the dirt.
Tara clapped her palm over her mouth to stop the scream. A pale arm wiggled there, trying to pull out of the dirt. A large hump of soil and leaves were
mounded on top of the body. She ran to the grave site, frantically scraping away at the earth.
“I’m here, I’ll save you,” she whispered harshly to the person, digging furiously with both hands near where the head should be. Finally, she brushed the earth away from a woman’s face, her eyes wide open and staring, her mouth choked with matted foliage and clods of dirt.
“I’m here, I’m here, are you okay?” But the woman made no sound. Tara dug at the detritus blocking her mouth, but she was not breathing. “No, no!” Tara cried. The woman was dead, Tara was seconds too late. She collapsed beside the grave sobbing in frustration and grief, then remembered she needed to be quiet. She glanced around quickly, but she was the only living soul there.
Tara brushed dirt from the woman’s neck and leaned in close. Red sores covered her throat. In a panic, Tara threw herself backward. My God, I stuck my hand in her mouth. She re-covered the woman’s exposed face and hand, then picked up fistfuls of dirt and leaves to wipe off her fingers. This was the best she could do for now, the disinfectant was at home. Clyde has some.
Hunched over at a half run, Tara scaled the logs and headed toward Clyde’s, leaving her bike behind in panic, still somewhat fearful of catching up to the dark shape that did this. She stayed low, glad she had on dark clothing. I wish I had followed him instead. To know who he was and where he had come from would be the key to stopping this horror. But it was too late now. He literally could have come from anywhere in town. He may even have walked down Clyde’s alley, and this thought kept her terrified. I could run right into him.
With relief, she saw Clyde’s house just ahead and jogged into his backyard. She let herself in the back door and could immediately hear him groaning from the bedroom. She poured water and disinfectant over her hands at the sink, then hurried down the hall, reaching for the tube of steroid cream in her pocket.
It’s gone! My God, it must’ve fallen out at the graveyard. They’ll know someone has been there! She had to retrieve it as soon as possible. Tara wished desperately for Mary, or Lee, another human being to talk to.
Clyde tossed and turned in his bed, delirious. Tara put on her mask and some gloves and ran for a wet washcloth for his head, then refilled his glass. She gently wiped his face and it seemed to soothe him; he began to calm. The old man opened his eyes and recognized her. Tara held the back of Clyde’s head to help him sip water, resigning herself to whatever was destined to happen. If she caught this, so be it. I’ve probably got it by now anyway.
Clyde was trying to say something. “Shh, Clyde, don’t try to talk, just rest. I have some medicine for you, but I dropped it on the way here. I’m going to go look for it as soon as it’s light.” Clyde continued to whisper and try to form words. Tara leaned close.
“Bury me in my uniform, Tara. And I want you to have my house.”
Tears started in Tara’s eyes. “Don’t give up yet, Clyde, we all love you and need you with us here.” The old man closed his eyes again, but seemed to be resting more comfortably. Tara hated to leave him, but she had to have help, both with Clyde and to find the tube of cream. It was imperative to hide her discovery of the graveyard. If the perpetrator found the ointment beside the woman’s grave next time he returned, the stakes grew higher—he would know he’d been discovered. They would all be in serious danger.
She stood watching Clyde for a few minutes as he fell back into a deep sleep. Tara had to find Mary and Lee, tell them what happened. She let herself out the back door, still watching for threats. Mary will panic when she finds my bike still there in the weeds. Maybe she’ll come straight over. No way was Tara going back to retrieve it.
Tara decided to go straight home where she and Lee could wait for Mary together. Lee would know what to do.
Chapter 7
The shadow slipped along the fence in the dark, unlatching the gate and stepping into the compound. Next came maneuvering the narrow space, opening and closing the door quietly behind. The sound of generators humming outside was reassuring, and a flick of a switch flooded the place with light. The specimens were awake and waiting. Some groaned, but the sound was muffled from under the duct tape covering their mouths. Pleasure flooded him at the sight of the occupied gurneys.
The woman nearest him was awake, her eyes rolled in terror and she strained against her straps. He pulled up her shirt to check on the progress of the sores. She was just becoming fulminant, a few of the pustules broken and showing protruding threads. This woman was good looking, and his desire rose for a moment at her spread-eagled helplessness. He smiled at her, and pushed up her skirt, fully accepting and embracing his voyeuristic curiosity. He stroked the downy mound with the back of one hand, remembering a time when such things tormented him to the point of distraction. Those thoughts led to others; experiments as of yet unaccomplished, dreams unfulfilled. He glanced around at the room, knowing this location would not work for his plans much longer.
An idea came unbidden, and the flush of pleasure it provided widened his smile. He covered the woman, distracted now and deciding it was time to achieve those dreams. It was merely a matter of finding the right subject to make them come true.
~
Tara ran almost the entire way home, wishing now she’d gone back for her bike. With a quick mental calculation of her time spent in the graveyard, then at Clyde’s, and now jogging all the way back, Tara realized class would be over and Mary should arrive at her house any minute.
As she trotted up the steps, the back door swung open and Lee stood there. He was watching for me. Her heart leapt for a moment, both out of love for him and gratitude for all their years together. Through good and bad Lee was her rock, and somehow he always knew what to say and do to soothe her lifelong anxiety. One look at her face and he ushered her inside.
“Oh Lee, it’s bad, and Clyde’s bad.” He moved to hug her, and she shook her head, dodging him and going to the sink to sanitize her hands again. Tara shook as she relayed all Melanie had told them and finally, what she herself had seen at the graveyard this time.
“I don’t want you leaving here any longer without the gun. I really don’t want you leaving here at all. There’s a maniac running loose, and whether he’s your average serial killer or connected with the old regime at the camp makes no difference. He’s a threat to anything that moves.”
“But what about the tube of cream, Lee? I’ve got to retrieve it before he goes back there and finds it!”
Lee shook his head. “Are you nuts? No way, I don’t want you anywhere near there again! In fact, I’m prepared to say avoid the bluff above the river completely, use those stairs to get to the camp. Trespassing be damned!”
Tara thought for a moment. “The party at the winery is Saturday. I think I’m going to come right out and ask the owner if he’s there. Surely he couldn’t refuse us right to our faces.”
A frantic pounding at the back door interrupted them—Mary had arrived.
“Oh, thank God you’re okay! When I found your bike there…” Mary puffed, totally out of breath. Tara explained what happened, and Mary’s eyes grew wider with each word, finally blurting out, “The tube, he’ll know!”
Tara nodded. “Yeah, I need to get it. But Lee says no.”
Lee frowned. “I’d say we are just about at the point of needing outside help with this. The only law enforcement here are vigilante groups. I’m not sure they can handle the sort of stake out and reconnaissance required.”
“If this person or group is testing a new disease on people, Lee, we’re talking about the possibility of the real end of the world. As if Ebola weren’t bad enough. Now we’ve got something truly evil—we don’t even know what it is or how to treat it! And after what we’ve been through with Meyers, I surely don’t know who to trust anymore.”
Lee looked grim, but Tara could see he got it. He scowled down at his bad leg, motioning at the crutch. “Damn this thing anyway. If I were able, I’d go find the cream myself and get the ball rolling on an investigation. Clyde’s
grandson should be able to do something.”
“What if we go, take Luke and our guns? What if we get a few trustworthy people to start staking out the graves? I’m afraid to use Clyde’s radio to call his grandson or anyone; we don’t know who might be listening,” Tara said, thinking. “After last time, it’s hard to know how deep something like this goes.”
“We may be able to send people to the Marine base in Cleveland. We know Clyde’s grandson can be trusted, he’s a general,” Lee said. “Or we could use a vehicle and hope for the best.” Tara had only met Clyde’s grandson once; back when Clyde had called him and his troops in to save them all, effectively shutting down Meyers’s corrupt, genocidal regime at the camp.
“Melanie makes rounds there as the visiting nurse. Maybe she’ll have an idea what to do next,” Mary replied. “We’ve kept this just among ourselves so far, but I think we need to do something besides watch it unfold. There aren’t many of us survivors left, we can’t afford to lose the rest of us to another epidemic, whether it’s a lone crazy responsible, or rogue military black ops.”
“Melanie has left by now on her rounds to the bases around the state, but she’ll be back for the party at the winery. In the meantime, she said she’ll look for a scientific paper she saved on Morgellons Syndrome. She thinks she kept it in her office….” Tara drifted off, distracted by all the implications.
“If we can just find a way to treat it,” Mary said.
“We’re going to have to take turns sitting with Clyde also, Mary. He’s too bad to leave there alone.”
Mary agreed.
“I don’t mind taking my turn, I can suit up as easily as the rest of you,” Lee interjected. “Besides, like we said, I think we’ve probably all been exposed already anyway.”
Red Death (Book 2): Survivors Page 7