She opened the door to the hallway. The house was quiet except for the roar of the fire, which was just outside now. That meant the house next door was already burning. Tanya and Ryan had little time before the flames came knocking at the door.
She pulled Ryan behind her, running to the kitchen. Her bag was on the counter. She hoped like Hell her keys and wallet would be inside. As she pulled the bag open to rifle through, Ryan tugged on her arm, saying the fire had reached the side of the house. Sure enough, the window at the other end of the house glowed orange though the curtains. It was time to leave, no time to gather the valuables.
Except she didn't have her keys.
"Motherfucker," she hissed. "Hurry, find my keys!"
The two tore through the house looking for her keychain. Meanwhile, the fire had started bleeding through the wall, filling the air with smoke. "Mom, we have to go," Ryan shouted, but she ignored him. "Mom," he repeated.
"We can't, not without the-" She spotted the orange keychain on the dining room table, next to the pile of bills. "Got 'em!" She held up the keys like they were made of gold.
She turned. A man was looking through the front picture window at her. Her heart was hopeful that it was Will, that he'd come home, come to take them away, but those hopes were quickly dashed on the rocks when she saw the man's face. It was Jerry Walker, from two blocks over.
He was barely recognizable. He'd been attacked by the looks of him, but there was something more. The way he looked at her, it was almost lustful, like he wanted her.
He was hungry.
Jerry rushed forward and leapt through the picture window in one blur of sound and motion. Tanya let out a shout as the glass flew. Jerry smashed into the dining room wall, knocking down framed pictures and crashing to the floor in a heap of broken glass.
He was momentarily stunned. Tanya took the chance to push Ryan back into the kitchen and away from their crazed neighbor. They had the keys, now they just had to make it to the garage. But the smoke was growing thicker by the second. It stung at their throats and made them cough violently.
Jerry recovered way too quickly for them to make their escape. He chased after them, trampling around the corner on bloody feet. The end of the hallway was blocked by fire, including the basement they'd been in just minutes earlier. Tanya and Ryan cut through the living room. It was the quickest way to the garage, and at the moment their only hope.
He was gaining on them. Jerry grunted and snarled like a vicious dog on their heels. Tanya and Ryan ran around the living room couch, cutting around the coffee table. As Jerry leapt over the couch, Tanya pulled them both down to the floor.
Jerry crashed into the table with the fish tank. Glass shattered and water poured down over his head and back, along with the pebbles and fish inside.
Tanya and Ryan pulled themselves up and ran for the garage door. They glanced back at Jerry to see him shaking off the dirty water. He picked up one of the bigger fish flopping on the floor and bit its head off in one bite.
Fire was overtaking the house. It had spread from the hallway into the living room. As Jerry looked in their direction with a mouthful of scaly flesh, surrounded by smoke and flames, they were already slamming the garage door behind them.
Ryan hit the button on the wall to open the garage door as he ran around the other side of the car. The keys were a shaking mess in Tanya's hands, but she managed to isolate the alarm remote and unlock the car as they ripped the doors open and clawed their way inside. The garage door had barely risen out of the way when Tanya started the car and gave it the gas, shooting out of the garage like a bat out of Hell.
Hell was right. Fire was overtaking the house at incredible speed, flames already erupting from the broken dining room window. Black smoke rose off the house in gigantic plumes, the same as every other house stretching down two blocks from theirs. Tanya slowed down to look at the home they'd spent years painting and remodeling and improving. All of it, all the furniture and the clothes and the carpeting, it was all just a match head waiting to be struck.
Bang. Something slammed against Tanya's door. She yelped and locked the doors before she could see what it was. When she looked up, it was through red-streaked glass. The woman on the other side was missing an ear, bit clean off like the fish's head. "Help! Please help me," the woman screamed, her bloody hands on the glass. She was pale and slick with sweat.
Tanya looked at her son, not knowing what to do. "Just go," he said softly.
The woman pulled on the locked handle. "Please, let me in!"
Tanya swallowed hard and pressed on the gas pedal, lightly at first. She felt ashamed. This woman needed her help, but doing so would risk Tanya's life and, more importantly, her son's. The woman tried to hold onto the handle, shouting for Tanya to stop, but Tanya gave it more gas.
As she left the bleeding woman behind, she glanced in the rearview. The woman stared back at the car with all the hope drained from her eyes. A moment later she was tackled to the street by an infected engulfed in fire.
It was Jerry.
-15-
The streets of D.C. were a fevered nightmare. Fire ravaged entire neighborhoods. People were being attacked on every side. Entire streets jammed with abandoned cars. All social rules were out the window. Not only were women and children not safe, they were often the enemy.
Tanya had left her wallet and bag behind when Jerry attacked them, but seeing how things were out in the world, she doubted anyone was open for business. They needed to get out of the city and find someplace safe to hide, away from the more than six-hundred thousand residents of the city currently ripping each other apart, and they needed to do it soon.
Ryan tried calling his father again. Tanya knew what his frustrated face meant when he put his phone away. "The phones are dead," Tanya said.
"How do we know he's okay?"
She sighed. "We have to trust that your father can take care of himself."
"What about us? Who can help us?"
"I don't know if anyone can. People can barely help themselves right now." They passed a burning crater that used to be a hospital. She tried not to look too long at the flaming debris, in case she saw something she regretted.
They drove for a while, taking the back streets and moving slowly to avoid too much attention. Whenever someone noticed them, she gunned it until they were out of sight, then slowed down again. It was getting harder and harder to avoid being detected. There was a very real chance they wouldn't make it out of the city.
"We need a gun," Ryan said.
"Guns don't solve everything."
"They solve some things."
Tanya chewed on her lip. As much as she didn't like it, he was right. They needed to protect themselves. If they couldn't get out of D.C., maybe there was another way. "What we need to do is go someplace your father will find us. A safe place where we can wait for him to show up."
"What if he doesn't show up?"
"I'll tell you what," Tanya said, "if you promise not to repeat that, I'll promise not to tell your father you ever said it. Deal?" He nodded. "Now let's concentrate on finding somewhere safe, and maybe think about the gun thing later."
Ryan nodded. "Is there any place where we can do both at once?"
Tanya had a thought. "Actually," she said, "I think there is."
It took almost ten minutes for the ancient computer to boot up, and five more for the Internet browser to start. The connection was terrible, probably due in part to the networks being overloaded the same as the phone systems, but eventually Stanley was able to sign on.
"What are you doing," Will asked from the window.
"Finding out how bad it is."
It was bad. Martial Law had been declared nationwide, the military coming down hardest on the major cities. The virus had already spread to Mexico and Canada, with more reports of affected countries coming in all the time. Almost unthinkably, the Air Force had begun bombing densely populated areas. Stanley was about to make a wise-ass comment to
Will about the government not releasing weapons on their own soil, until he read one of the headlines. His heart dropped into his stomach at the words on the screen.
"Will," he said.
"What?"
"You, um...you should see this."
Will huffed as he left his post at the window to come over and read the headline.
Bombs dropped on Washington D.C.
"No." Will's knees went weak. He leaned against the desk and reread the headline, then scanned the article for details. There weren't many specifics other than talk of bridges and hospitals.
"Tanya can take care of herself," Stanley assured him. "She's resourceful. She has connections. I bet you she got out of the city before the worst of it started."
Will pushed away from the desk and tried to make a call on his cell phone. When the call failed he squeezed the phone so hard Stanley thought it would break in his hand. He looked like he was going to throw it against the wall, that temper Stanley knew so well, the one that had gotten him in trouble so many times. Will acted like he was in control of it, and most of the time he was, but every so often it peeked out like a shark fin in the waves.
In those moments, nothing scared Stanley more than his brother.
Just as quickly, Will pushed the anger back down. "She told me not to come here," he said. "She warned me. I could have been there to protect them, but instead I had to follow you to the middle of nowhere. For what?"
"This isn't your fault."
"That's right, it's yours."
"Don't lose sight of who's really to blame here."
Will waved him off and went back to trying his cell phone. It took some work to get a secure connection going on the old computer, but eventually Stanley got a Tor browser going and logged in. "By now the suits will be scrambling to cover up that they were ever a part of this," he said.
He cued up the first video. The all-too familiar first frame popped onto the screen. Turning up the volume, he found the computer's speakers didn't work, so he borrowed a pair of over-the-ear headphones connected to an old stereo in the corner. He stood up and offered the chair to Will.
"What's this," Will asked.
"Just watch."
Will reluctantly took the seat and settled in. "This better be good," he said, slipping the headphones over his ears.
"It isn't," Stanley said. He leaned over his brother and pressed play.
Watching people die wasn't at all like it was in the movies. Effects people had a way of turning death into a work of art, with intricate prosthetics and finely molded wounds. In real life, death was strange and hollow and very uncomfortable to see. Ryan used to want to live in a horror movie, but now that he might actually die in one, he realized how stupid that was.
They reached the bail bond store in one piece. They'd gone there hoping Donegan, a man he'd never met, was not only home but wouldn't shoot them on sight. It was crazy how quickly things had gotten so bad- this was their best chance at staying alive.
The flower shop next door had a broken window. As they walked toward the bail bond place, they noticed how much blood was around the window and in the shards of glass all over the sidewalk. Ryan tried to get a closer look, but his mom pulled him away.
The door was unlocked. It was a relief to get off the street before someone or something saw them. They stepped inside and his mom locked the door behind them, giving him a knowing nod.
It was quiet in the small store. It was also surprisingly seedy for someplace his dad would choose to work. A faint trail of blood droplets on the floor led from the front door to the counter, then around it and to a closed door at the back. Like breadcrumbs through the forest. They followed it, careful not to step in any.
The back door was unlocked, too. "This is way too easy," Ryan said.
"Isn't easy a good thing?"
"Usually not."
They opened the door a crack. There was a small hallway beyond, lit by overhead bulbs, and a set of stairs heading up.
The stairs creaked underfoot. At the top was a door into an apartment. Ryan's mom knocked softly. Nothing. She knocked again. When half a minute had passed without a response, she tried the doorknob.
It was unlocked.
They hesitated, unsure of whether to go in or not, but a crash on the darkening street outside followed by a blood-chilling scream made the decision easier.
The apartment was small. There wasn't a lot of furniture or decoration, and what little there was centered around either soccer or horses. Ryan felt awkward standing in a stranger's living room they had practically broken into, but it beat the alternative.
"In here," a voice called out, making them jump. They followed the sound to the bedroom, where a man was sitting in bed. Ryan knew immediately it had to be Donegan.
"They call it the Hemorrhage Virus," he said. "I call it bloody bullshit." Then he coughed into his arm.
Ryan's mom pushed him behind her. "Stay back," she said. Donegan raised his hand, showing them he was handcuffed to the heating unit next to the bed. "It's alright, love, I'm not going anywhere." He was pale and exhausted.
"Donegan. I'm so sorry," his mom said.
"Ahh, no one's going to cry over this one, trust me."
She took a step closer to the bed. Ryan could see the bandage wrapped around Donegan's shoulder, stained with dried blood. "How did it happen," mom asked.
"This? I had a little date with the bird next door, you see. She gave it too much teeth so I had to put her down." He chuckled weakly. "I was hoping to end up handcuffed in bed, but to be honest I expected something a little different."
"Have you talked to Will?"
Donegan squinted. "If our boy had a chance to make a phone call, you'd better believe he's calling you and not me. Shouldn't you be at home, waiting for him?"
"The house burned down, along with our whole neighborhood."
"That's rough. I'm sorry I sent Will out there."
"You didn't force him to go. One way or another he's been chasing his brother his whole life."
Donegan had another coughing fit. They waited for him to stop, trying not to breathe too much. "You can stay here if you like," Donegan said.
"Thank you," mom said. She was quiet.
Ryan stepped forward. "My mom doesn't want to ask, but do you have guns?"
Donegan smiled at Ryan's mom and said, "I like this kid already."
Will felt like he was going to throw up. He pulled the headphones off his head, yet the screams still echoed in his ears. The tortured, hungry sounds in a laboratory viewing room somewhere, the shouts of an airport security officer. In his mind they turned into the screams on Ryan's television. A Pandora's Box of suffering and pain.
"Who did this," he managed to ask.
"As far as I can tell, it was one guy by the name of Rick Gibson. He's the Colonel who heads up the Army's Institute of Infectious Diseases. The guy at the airport, patient zero? His name was Pinkman. He was on the way to brief Gibson when what you saw happened. Either someone infected him on purpose, or he was carrying the virus and didn't know it."
"How did you get these videos?"
"The usual away. It's complicated."
Will turned in the chair. "When?"
"A few days ago."
The old, familiar sting of anger rose up in Will's gut. He resisted the urge to punch his brother a second time. "People needed to be warned. You knew this for a few days and you didn't tell anyone?"
"I was on my way to doing that."
"From a cabin in the middle of nowhere? That's bullshit. You were hiding."
Stan glared back at him. "I'll explain this to you, since you spend so much time with your head in the sand- these government types don't respond well to people leaking classified documents. Does Edward Snowden ring a bell? Or how about the fact that these bastards tried to frame me for espionage when they realized I was digging a little too deep. I needed to disappear first, to make sure everyone could hear me before I blew the whistle."
Will jumped up from the chair, grabbed Stan by the collar and pulled him in close. "You could have told me. Tanya and Ryan are back home, and these things," he pointed to the screen, "they're running around killing people."
"I didn't know it would spread so fast."
He let go of Stanley's coat. "Selfish as ever."
"Will, I swear I didn't know. I'm not a doctor. I thought there was time to warn people. No one could have predicted how fast this thing moved."
The sun was setting outside. It would be dangerous to venture out with such low visibility, not to mention the icy conditions of melted snow refreezing. They would have to wait until morning. Another night of leaving Tanya and Ryan on their own.
Will turned back to Stan. "If I've lost them," he said, "those things will be nothing compared to what I do to you."
-16-
April 22nd, 2015
DAY 5
It was morning, and Will needed to get home.
He and Stan had slept the night on opposite sides of the floor, neither of them speaking a word to each other. Will had nothing to say to his brother that didn't end in shouting and punching, which was a problem if they wanted to avoid being detected by the things that were running around outside murdering what few citizens were left.
Lying on the cold floor, he couldn't think of anything but Tanya and Ryan. How he'd left them alone. How he'd put them in danger. Sometime around three in the morning he'd finally fallen asleep, though a few times he woke up from the sounds of death nearby. At one point he got on the old computer and sent Tanya an email telling her to stay inside and wait for him. There was no way of knowing if she would ever get it, but he had to try. It felt like throwing a message in a bottle out to sea.
He kicked Stan's foot to wake him up. "What, what is it," Stan mumbled, half-panicked. The scrape on his forehead was scabbed over.
"Time to go."
Stan rubbed his eyes. "Where?"
"Home."
Stan put up a bit of a fight, but their limited food and water supplies eventually won him over. They combed the hardware store for things they could use, filling a duffel bag with the remaining food and a few tools that might come in handy, including a street map of the Northeast United States.
Extinction Cycle (Kindle Worlds): Extinction [Isolation] Page 11