Kallie’s father put a hand on her shoulder. “You’ll be careful, won’t you? Keep your doors locked and wear your level-four gear?”
Kallie shook her head. “I can’t do that, I’ll overheat. But I’ll bring the hood in case I have to enter the house.”
He frowned. “Not good enough.”
“Dad, I’m not going to drive all that way in full gear. It’s overkill. But I’ll follow all standard precautions: I’ll cover up, wear a mask and gloves, and keep a yard of distance between me and anyone I meet. Okay? I’ll be fine. Promise.”
Grandpa blew another nose-full of snot and grumbled something about foolishness and respect.
Mom gave her a hug. “Be careful.”
Kallie kissed her cheek. “I will. Try not to worry.”
As if that were even possible. Worry was an Anderson family trait.
***
It took Kallie two doubt-filled hours to drive out of Los Angeles and into the sparse, desert mountains of the San Gabriel Wilderness. Eddie’s records listed the Hidden Springs Campsite as his address. As promised, it lay in the middle of nowhere.
She stepped out of the van, locked the doors, and clamped a boot onto the front wheel for good measure. The nearest anything was twenty-miles away. The last time Kallie had walked that far, was—well—never.
She left her biosafety gear in the van and opted for a long-sleeve cotton blouse, jeans, and a pair of jogging shoes. And because her parents hadn’t raised a total fool, she had stuffed a pair of latex gloves and a particle respiratory mask in her back pockets. Although the make-shift gear didn’t match her promise, Kallie felt certain the protection would suffice.
Charred disks dotted the plateau, reminding her of the camp songs Grandpa used to sing when she was a little girl. She had felt so close to him then, building blanket tents in the living room and warming her hands around a pile of rolled up red shirts. Grandpa painted his Boy Scouting adventures so vividly she’d wake the next morning with the scent of pine trees and the sticky feel of sap on her fingers. Each month she’d beg him to take her to the mountains; and each month he’d build another campsite out of blankets and rolled up shirts.
“No one camps outdoors anymore, Kallie-girl,” he’d always say. “Were better off in our living room.”
While it was true that most folks hid in the safety of their family compounds and sterile work environments, a courageous few headed to open spaces every chance they got. Kallie tried to convince her family to do the same, citing the health benefits of fresh air and exercise, but they refused to believe.
“Those articles are decades old,” her father had said. “You can’t believe those old wives’ tales. Doctors know better now.”
“But I am a doctor!”
“You’re a resident. Don’t get ahead of yourself.”
Remembering his comment made her as angry now as it had that day. She couldn’t understand how people as intelligent as her family could buy into such hysteria. Sure, the news was full of stories about doomed people infecting others out of spite, and communes in the wilderness where the infected gathered to live out the rest of their miserable days; but come on. Anyone with half a brain should be able to see that people dying of infectious diseases were like everyone else: a mix of good and bad, frightened and brave. And yet, despite their intelligence, Kallie’s family, like the majority of healthy people, adamantly believed the doomed were plotting to infect the world.
Kallie had never seen any statistics or news footage to confirm the existence of these alleged communes; and the infected patients she had encountered were no worse than any other terrified, selfish citizen. Everyone in the world wanted to live. Everyone in the world was afraid to die. It was as simple as that.
Unfortunately, no one in her family shared the same opinion. Her mother was the worst, telling Kallie she was silly to think the government would stop funding national parks if the outdoors were truly good for people’s health. Having mother call her silly stung worse than any of the condescending and dismissive comments made by her father and brothers. Women were supposed to support each other not tear each other down. So much for sisterhood.
Like a dog drying itself from a bath, Kallie shook away the thoughts and descended into the ravine. According to Eddie, his pop had built their homestead along the river. The glorified creek below, winding its way through the mountains, was the only water in sight. Kallie intended to follow it until she found the Spinks or ran out of sunlight.
Eddie’s parting jab echoed in her mind: “Can’t see you packin’ your gear down the river bank. Probably fall in and mess up that nice white suit.”
Not going to happen.
After forty minutes of clumsy rock jumping and mud sliding, Kallie found the settlement in a clearing between the river and the mountain—along with two barking, charging beasts.
“Oh my God,” she said, dashing for a boulder. The mutts changed their course to intercept. “Help,” she yelled. “Can you hear me? Call off your dogs!”
She leaped onto the side and scrambled up the face while the feral creatures lunged at her feet. Once safe on the top, Kallie waved at the cabins. “Hello? Can you hear me? Eddie sent me!” She looked down at the yellow-brown dogs yapping and scratching at the rock. “It’s okay. I’m a friend. Really.”
A gun fired, the dogs yelped, and a man shouted for them to heel. Kallie raised her hands over her head as the mutts raced to their master, a wizened man with a crippled leg.
“What you doing here, girl? You don’t belong.”
Kallie nodded. She surely didn’t. “Eddie had an accident. He said you didn’t have a phone, so I came out to tell you. He crashed the motorcycle.”
The man stopped and slumped over his rifle, shaking his head and muttering to himself. After a moment he straightened his crooked back and motioned her off the rock with the muzzle of the gun.
“Come on down. Them pups won’t hurt you.”
Kallie eyed the snarling dogs. “You sure about that? They look kind of wild.”
The man smiled and shushed his pets. “They got some coyote mixed in, but they do what I tell ’em.”
She pointed to the gear hanging from her pocket. “I’m just going to put on my mask and gloves, okay?”
He nodded. “Suit yourself.”
The man had no such protection. With his wide brimmed hat and overstretched tank—sagging to expose an equally sagging chest—he seemed more concerned about getting sunstroke than contracting germs.
Once she had the protective equipment securely fitted, she climbed down from the boulder. The mongrels stayed beside their master.
“So,” said the man. “How’s my boy?” His voice trembled.
Kallie understood. Even the slightest cut could become infected. She wished that was all she had to report. “He fractured his knee,” she said, keeping her voice professional and dispassionate.
“They gon’ operate?”
She shook her head. “I’m deeply sorry, Mr. Spinks. He didn’t make it.”
He raised the gun. “What you tellin’ me? My boy’s dead?”
Kallie held up her hands and tried to remain calm. “It wasn’t a clean break. A truck ran him down. Crushed his leg between his bike and a wall.” Her voice trembled. “I don’t know what happened. He just—died.”
“What you mean ‘he just died?’ Ain’t nobody just die lessen somethin’ or somebody kill him.”
“I know. You’re right. That’s why I’m here. I’m a doctor. I was Eddie’s doctor,” she added, inanely. “Look, I want to ask you some questions.”
Mr. Spinks shook his head and spit. “What I got to tell you? You the one takin’ care of my boy. You tell me why he died.”
“Sure. Just put away the gun, okay? Then we’ll talk.”
Mr. Spinks stared at Kallie for a long time. Then he lowered the rifle, hawked, and spit again.
“Thank you.”
Mr. Spinks jutted his chin. “Well? Say your piece.”
&nbs
p; Kallie nodded and took a fortifying breath, praying the man wouldn’t change his mind and shoot her. “Eddie believed the driver of the truck hit him on purpose because he thought Eddie was someone named Jacob. Do you know Jacob? Is he a neighbor?”
When Mr. Spinks didn’t respond, she continued a little faster. “Eddie said he worked in a government lab and knew about infections. That he worked on top secret experiments with germs and rats. Do you know who I’m talking about? Does Jacob live around here?”
Mr. Spinks fingered the trigger. “What you want with Jacob?”
“So you do know him,” she said, nearly laughing with relief. “That’s great. Where can I find him?”
An elderly woman stood at the porch while a couple of women nearer to Kallie’s mother’s age approached with four girls following behind. Not one of them wore long sleeves, masks, or gloves.
“Get back in the house, Sue. This ain’t no concern of yours.”
The woman stopped and hugged her girls. “This have somethin’ to do with Ed?”
Mr. Spinks raised his rifle and pointed it at Kallie. “Do as I say. I’ll be in once this doctor is on her way.” He spat the word “doctor” as if it was the foulest thing he had ever been forced to say.
“Please. I know you’re angry,” said Kallie. “But if Jacob has information about fighting infections, wouldn’t you want me to know?” She glanced at his family. “For your kids?”
“Ain’t nothing wrong with my kids.”
“There wasn’t anything wrong with Eddie, either. Until there was.”
Mr. Spinks glared at Kallie, who glared back defiantly. Neither spoke. Neither flinched. Finally, he huffed then pointed the barrel up the river.
“Back that way couple hundred paces. Through the gap in the rocks.”
Kallie nodded and backed away. When she felt the soft soil of the river bank give beneath her shoes, she ran.
***
Kallie approached the cabin with caution, ready to bolt up a tree at the first sign of dogs. So far, all was quiet. Jacob had nestled his home in a grove of alders and pines, and since he had used the same woods to build his cabin, it blended perfectly. A less determined person would never have found it.
Not for the first time, Kallie wondered about her judgment. It was one thing to mistrust society from the comfort and protection of her home and hospital; it was quite another to hunt for trouble in the wilderness. What if Jacob had something worse than snarling dogs and a loaded rifle?
“Then I’m screwed,” she muttered.
Guilt over losing her patient and an exalted sense of personal responsibility had set her on this path; stubbornness wouldn’t let her leave it.
She took a couple more steps, thought better of it, and stopped a few yards short. While the laughable distance wouldn’t keep her safe from a psycho redneck murderer, those few yards made her feel a teeny bit more secure.
“Hello? Is anyone home?”
A gruff voice spoke from behind. “Who’s asking?”
She yelped and whirled to see who had startled her. He was a big man—broader and more muscular than any of her brothers—with bushy brows and ill-cropped facial hair. His sleeves were short and his collar unbuttoned to the chest. He wore black-rimmed glasses with powerful prescriptions that magnified an accusing glare. A short-barrel shotgun rested at his hip, aimed at her belly.
Kallie raised her hands, realizing too late that the gloves and mask made her look like a government health investigator. Somehow, she didn’t think this man would appreciate those sorts of people.
“I’m a doctor. Eddie’s father told me where to find you.”
“Hm. And why would he do that?”
“Because Eddie died last night.”
Instead of shock or gruff dismissal, the man loomed over her, like a buzzard inspecting a dying mouse. “Of natural causes?”
Kallie shook her head. “I don’t think so. He came in with a fractured patella. Said a guy in a truck plowed into him because he thought Eddie was you.”
The man bit his lip and shook his head so violently Kallie feared he might be having a seizure. Then he blasted out a gust of air and shook his head some more.
“Goddamnit! God damn them all to hell. Sons of bitches want a piece of me?” He glared up at the sky and yelled. “You want a piece of me? You sons of—” he peered back at Kallie, as if remembering she was there. “What do you want?” He shoved the stubby barrel at her stomach. “Start talking, or I’ll blast a hole through your belly so big… What are you after? Why are you here? Who are you?”
He fired his questions in ever-loudening bursts, causing Kallie to stagger, heart pounding, hot breath steaming her mask.
“Nothing,” she gasped. “I mean… I just want to know what’s going on. Eddie said you used to work in a government lab and that you knew all sorts of secrets regarding infections. I don’t want to cause any trouble. Honest. I’m just a doctor looking for answers.”
He grunted a bitter laugh. “An honest doctor? That’s a good one. Follow it up with the collective good and evil drugs and you got yourself a comedy routine.” He lowered the barrel and walked toward her, chuckling at his own joke and muttering about arrogant assheads. “Go home. I don’t have time for your ignorance.”
Kallie’s jaw dropped. “Excuse me?” She had enough of being dismissed, first by her attending physician and then by her parents. She wasn’t about to get dismissed by a shaggy-faced, hulking, middle-aged lab rat.
“I’m not ignorant, and I’m sure as hell not a liar. And I’m not going home after driving all this way and hiking into bum-fuck nowhere without the truth.” She tore off her mask and planted her fists on her hips.
To hell with germs. She wanted him to quake in her fury.
Instead he laughed.
“This isn’t funny,” she said.
He glared at her with dark predatory eyes. “No. It isn’t.” Then as if to prove his disdain for her and any germs she might be carrying, he headed on his way, passing so close the hairs on his arms brushed against the sleeve of her shirt.
Kallie froze, paralyzed by the thought of deadly germs crawling up her sleeve. Over her collar. Up her neck. Into her mouth. Her nose. Her eyes.
“Wait,” she said, jolting herself out of the horrifying vision. “Why do you hate doctors?”
He turned around and adjusted his eyeglass as if to better inspect a curious bug. “Why did you risk contamination? Your family couldn’t have been pleased to have you abscond with their one government-allotted car, not to mention having their daughter communing with disease-ridden rednecks in—How did you put it? Bum-fuck nowhere?” He chortled. “That’s actually pretty good. Never mind. You want to know what I know?” He tossed his head and walked away. “Come and get it.”
When he reached his cabin, he left the door open.
Kallie stood mute as indignation warred with doubt. This man, whom she assumed to be Jacob, offended her deeply. And yet, she wanted him to approve of her actions and appreciate her motives. She wanted him to acknowledge that she was one of the good guys. That she had sacrificed time and money and risked her life to come out here in the pursuit of truth. But how could she explain what she didn’t fully understand?
She stuffed the mask and gloves in her pockets. She had come this far; she’d be damned if she'd run back home without answers.
***
The cabin’s shutters stood open to bring in the light and the breeze, making the space seem larger and more welcoming than she expected. Jacob propped his shotgun in the corner of the kitchen area and fetched two blue-speckled cups, which he filled with coffee from a matching metal pot on a wood-burning stove.
“Milk’s too hard to keep around here. Don’t use it. Don’t want it.”
Kallie nodded. “Black’s fine.”
He stepped over the bench in front of a plank table and sat, gesturing for her to do the same on the opposite side. “My name’s Jacob Roszak, but I guess you already know that.”
&
nbsp; “Kallie Anderson.”
He sipped his coffee. “So why are you sitting in a stranger’s cabin, drinking his coffee from a possibly germ-infected cup?”
She raised her chin and glared down her nose. “Why did you invite an unprotected stranger into your home?” She took a long, deliberate sip.
His mouth twitched into something close to a grin. “How’d they kill Eddie?”
“They?”
Jacob waved a hand. “Stop wasting my time, and answer the question.”
Kallie shook her head. “I think it was a him. I saw a man leave Eddie’s room just before I went in.” She shivered despite the heat. “Something about him bothered me. Anyway, I don’t know how, or even if he did it; and since my request for an autopsy and toxicology report was denied, I never will.”
“Doesn’t matter. Eddie’s dead. I’m not. They’ll keep coming. Sons of bitches will always keep coming. The question is: Why do you care?”
Kallie stared into his harsh dark eyes. Who was he to challenge her? A rogue chemist? A medical researcher gone off the deep end? A burnt-out government worker hiding from the big bad world? She faced her challenges. She worked in the trenches, day after day, risking her life to save others. Why did she care?
“Because I’m a doctor. It’s what I do. And I want to know why you’re not worried about contamination.”
Jacob snorted. “Never said I wasn’t worried. Bacteria, viruses, fungi, parasites—every microbe known to man is mutating faster than a hammerhead viroid. Anyone with half a cell in his brain would be terrified.”
“You don’t look it.”
“Well, I am. Just not of you. You’re too full of yourself to be a health risk.”
“I’m full of myself?”
He flapped his hand in the air, as if her sarcasm was of no consequence. Then he swung his legs over the bench and paced through the kitchen and living areas, muttering about virulent strains and resistant superbugs. When he returned, he straddled the bench beside her and thrust his face uncomfortably close to hers. “Can you handle the truth?” he asked.
“What truth?”
He exhaled with frustration and rubbed his sloppily cropped hair, like he was trying to rid it of lice. Then he grabbed her by both arms and twisted her torso so she would face him squarely. “Have you ever felt like your world is closing in on you? That your freedoms are getting stripped away?”
Never Fear Page 25