Rain Saga

by Barton, Riley

  This can’t be good. She suppressed a weak cough and wiped her hand across her brow, noticing for the first time how cold and clammy her skin was. Her forehead creased into a frown, and she pressed her quivering hand against it—just to make sure she wasn’t hallucinating. She had a fever.

  “Ed, what’s the status on the current batch of serum?”

  “I’m afraid it’s too early to say yet, Subject Luna, but I should be able to give you a more in-depth analysis shortly.”

  “How shortly?”

  “Approximately forty minutes. Since these trials are with living cells, it will take some time for the serum to take effect. It will therefore take more time for me to know whether or not the serum poses any threat to your physiology.”

  “Is there any chance you could hurry it up a bit?” Luna asked, silently hoping that the tremor in her voice wasn’t very obvious.

  “I can try, Subject Luna. But I feel compelled to advise against it. This is not something I wish to rush.”

  Luna bit her lip. She knew he was right—he was always right. But no matter how hard she tried, she just couldn’t ignore her body. Nearly every nerve—every fiber and cell inside her—was telling her that something was about to happen. And she was ninety-nine percent sure that whatever that something was, it probably wouldn’t be good.

  “I know,” she said, “but we have a deadline…” She grimaced. There was just something about the dead in deadline that made her cringe.

  “Understood, Subject Luna. I’ll do what I can—with respect to your wellbeing, of course.”

  “Of course,” she echoed, turning her attention back to her computer’s glowing screen. However, instead of seeing figures and equations, her eyes saw nothing but a blur of color. She blinked once then twice, trying to clear her vision. It didn’t work. In a panic, she turned and looked around the lab: small flashes of light danced before her eyes as she tried frantically to focus on the blurry room.

  “Ed!” she shrieked, scrambling clumsily out of her chair, “hurry—get Mark! Something’s wron—” All at once the world exploded into a spinning pinwheel of light and color, and she felt herself falling. Everything from that point forward was a blur of pain and dizziness so extreme that she thought she was dying. After what felt like an eternity, the pain and disorientation faded, and her vision slowly began to return.

  She was lying face down on the floor, convulsing in a puddle of bloody vomit. . What made it worse was that no matter what she did, she couldn’t force her body to move.

  She was alone and unable to speak, unable to move, unable to call for help.

  Mark came tearing into the room. “Luna!” He sounded more terrified than she was, “Don’t worry, I’m here!”

  He rolled her over onto her back and laced his arm around her neck, supporting her head while the violent tremors slowly diminished into a steady, throbbing twitch.

  “Ed, do you have any idea what’s wrong with her?”

  Luna already knew what was wrong. Or at least, she had a very educated guess as to what might be wrong.

  She forced her mouth to move and spoke, “Fungus … in my brain … it’s … interfering with my nervous system.”

  “Is that really what’s going on, Ed?” Mark asked.

  “Initiating emergency bio-scan now.” There was a momentary pause then the AI continued, “Latest bio-scan indicates that Subject Luna’s infection is reaching maturity and as such the Blister Weed is beginning to bloom throughout her physiology.”

  Mark grimaced. “How much time do we have?”

  “Not enough,” Luna replied hoarsely. “We have to use the cure … Now.”

  “Subject Luna, I must advise against this choice of action,” Ed cut in. “I have not had time to finish my analysis! The cure could be highly destructive! I simply cannot allow—”

  “We don’t have a choice, Ed,” Mark said, wiping away a trickle of blood-tinged saliva running down the side of Luna’s chin. “It’s like she said. We don’t have any more time.”

  “It will only take forty minutes for me to complete my scans. Surely we can wait until then—”

  “Ed,” Luna choked, slowly propping herself up on her elbows, “there isn’t … any time. It’s now or never!”

  “Very well, Subject Luna,” Edward replied.

  “Can you walk?” Mark asked as Luna slowly rose into a clumsy squat.

  She answered, “I don’t know … ”

  “Here, let me help you.”

  She wrapped her quivering arm around his shoulder and leaned into him, letting him support her while she struggled to make her numb legs obey her.

  A few minutes later she was in the sickbay. Mark had gone back to the lab, leaving her sitting on one of the beds, trying desperately to keep the images of fungal death out of her mind.

  In spite of all the tests they had run, she knew that there were still too many unknown factors in her equations to know for sure whether or not her slapped-together cure would even work. It was no secret to her that she was taking a huge risk. But she also knew that if she didn’t try the cure, then the Blister Wart disease would kill her. She would die. Slowly and painfully—there wouldn’t be anything anyone could do about it.

  There was a light knock on the door, and she turned her head. “It’s okay. You can come in, Mark.”

  The heavy door swung outward and Mark stepped into the compact medical facility and carefully set a vial of dark blue liquid down on a tray of medical instruments sitting beside the sink.

  “All right … I think I’ve got everything ready,” he said, pulling a surgical mask over his face; she thought she heard a slight tremor in his voice. “Are you sure you want to go through with this?”

  Mustering her courage, she nodded. “Yeah.”

  “Okay, then,” he replied, pulling a stool over to her bedside, “here we go.”

  Luna licked her lips, fighting back hot, frightened tears as he disinfected the injection site.

  “Mark,” she whimpered, “Please … stay with me until this is over. I don’t want to be alone if … ” She choked, feeling the tears beginning to run down her cheeks.

  She felt his hand close around hers, and she turned to look up at him.

  “Don’t worry, Luna. I’ll be here the whole time.”

  “Thank you,” she whispered, and he squeezed her hand.

  She squeezed back.

  A moment later she felt the hot sting of the needle piercing her skin.

  She swallowed, laid her head back on the thin pillow, and prayed silently one more time before locking her watery eyes on the softly glowing light fixture on the ceiling above her bed. “Okay … let’s get this show on the road.”

  Chapter 38

  Mark nodded and pressed the plunger down, watching silently as the dark blue fluid shot into Luna’s arm.

  “How are you doing?” he asked, breaking the uneasy silence.

  “I’m … okay,” she wheezed, smiling weakly. “Just a little sore.”

  “Do you want me to give you something to help with that?”

  She shook her head. “Thanks for the offer ... But I don’t think it would be a good idea … to mix the cure with any other drugs.”

  “I guess that could be a problem,” he said, pressing a cool cloth to her sweat-drenched forehead.

  Despite her show of courage, he could tell that she was in a lot more pain than she let on. And the feeling of helplessness he felt watching her suffer was almost more than he could stand. It was like watching his mother die all over again.

  “Hey, Ed,” he called over his shoulder, pushing the memories from his mind, “can you do a continuous bio scan on her for me?”

  “I can indeed, Master Mark. Where would you like me to project my results?”

  Mark stood up and reached across Luna to her bed’s built-in holo-monitor and flipped the switch. “Here. Send the results to med terminal one.”

  “Of course, Master Mark. Right away.”

  Mark sat bac
k on his stool and watched intently as the dark black screen began to glow. The screen adjusted and displayed a holographic image of Luna’s body along with pulse, blood pressure, temperature, and respiratory readouts.

  What he saw was far worse than he’d thought possible. Luna’s heart rate was already way past the normal seventy-beats-per-minute and her breathing was more strained than usual. She wasn’t getting enough oxygen, and as a result everything inside her was straining just to keep her alive.

  “Ed,” he said calmly, trying to mask his shock so he wouldn’t scare her, “can you keep running simulations on the serum to see if it will have any side effects if mixed with other drugs?”

  “Of course, Master Mark. Continuing simulations.”

  “Okay, thanks. Tell me if and when anything useful comes up.”

  “Is … something wrong?” Luna asked, her winded voice barely more than a whisper.

  “No,” he lied, “I just want to be ready in case something decides to go wrong. You’re fine.”

  She grimaced. “You know … you’re not a very good liar, Mark. I can see the heart monitor.” She lifted a shaking hand and jabbed her thumb toward the beeping screen, “plus … I know my body well enough to know when something’s not right.”

  The heart monitor beeped loudly as her pulse spiked. She shuddered, clenching her hands tightly into fists as she curled up in pain, gasping for breath.

  Mark reached out to take her hand, and she screamed in agony.

  “Ed! What’s happening to her?” he shouted.

  “I don’t understand—this is quite impossible. All of my simulations indicated that—”

  “Hang the simulations, Ed!” Mark shot back. “I asked you a question—what’s wrong with her?”

  “It would seem that the Blister Wart fungus is not responding to the cure the way we had hoped.”

  Luna’s blood pressure spiked, bursting the capillaries inside her nostrils. She cried out in pain and wiped her hands across her bloodstained lip, staring in wide-eyed terror at her crimson fingers.

  “This … this shouldn’t be happening! The cure has to work … it just has to! Oh, God! Oh, God please … ” She began to cough, her body convulsing violently as she hacked up mouthfuls of bloody phlegm and fungus. “I … I … can’t breathe!” She rasped, clawing at her chest. “ … It hurts! Mark ... please … make it stop! I can’t breathe … I can’t breathe!”

  “Luna, I’m trying! Just hold on! Hold on!”

  She reached a bloodstained hand out to him then shuddered one last time and fell still, her arm falling limply beside her as the heart monitor blared.

  “No! She’s going into cardiac arrest!” Mark shouted, knocking over his stool as he leapt to his feet.

  “Emergency! Emergency! All of Subject Luna’s vital signs are plummeting! Commence resuscitative action immediately, Master Mark—before she expires!”

  Mark placed both hands on the center of her chest and began steadily and rhythmically pressing down, listening to the wail of the heart monitor for the slightest indication that his efforts were paying off.

  Nothing happened.

  The heart monitor continued to blare, while beneath his hands Luna’s warm body grew steadily colder. Time was running out.

  He ran to one of the sick bay’s medical lockers and yanked it open. His eyes sifted furiously through the different vials and bottles until he found what he was looking for: a small clear bottle marked adrenaline.

  He grabbed the bottle and a long hypodermic needle from the case, sending several other containers and pieces of equipment crashing to the floor.

  “Master Mark, what do you think you’re doing?” Ed exclaimed, as Mark ran back to Luna’s side. “I haven’t had time to finish my analysis yet! If you inject that into her, it may have dire consequences!”

  “I don’t have a choice!” Mark replied hotly, filling the syringe with a massive dose of the powerful hormone. He removed the needle from the vial and glanced down at Luna’s pale face and her wide lifeless eyes.

  “I’m sorry, Luna,” he muttered under his breath. He then pulled her shirt aside and plunged the needle into her chest, injecting its contents directly into her heart.

  He watched as the last drops of adrenaline drained from the syringe then carefully removed the needle and set it on the blanket beside her and waited.

  Ten seconds passed. Then fifteen.

  He pulled the folds of her clothing over her exposed torso and glanced up at the bio monitor and then at her face. She still looked like a corpse.

  He choked, swallowing the lump forming in his throat as the memories of his mother’s death rushed back to him.

  Come on. Come on. …

  All at once a piercing beep cut the silence, then another, and another.

  He released the breath he had been holding and slumped down onto his knees, his gaze fixed on the heart monitor. He Watched intently as Luna’s vitals began to grow stronger.

  “Ed,” he said at last, his voice no more than a whisper, “what’s the status on the fungus?”

  “It is hard to say, Master Mark. After all, it is still very early in the procedure.”

  “Give me a rough guess.”

  “All initial bio scans are optimistic.” Ed replied after a brief pause. “It would appear the cure is indeed effective. Though I recommend waiting for more definitive results.”

  Mark ran his hands through his hair then righted the stool and sat down.

  “Thanks, Ed. Keep me posted if anything changes.”

  He maintained his silent vigil all that night and well into the next morning, never once leaving Luna’s bedside. The only interruption came when Ed informed him that the passing storm had indeed caused the water level to rise, allowing them free passage once more.

  Upon hearing this, Mark instructed the AI to lay in a course for the nearest settlement at maximum speed.

  “I want to get this ship back to land as soon as possible in case anything else happens,” he said.

  He remained at Luna’s bedside until hunger and fatigue at last got the better of him. He had Ed perform one last bio scan to make sure Luna was stable then headed for the galley. Even though the worst appeared to be over, Luna still had a long road ahead of her. He only hoped she had the strength for it.

  Chapter 39

  Keith inhaled deeply, steadied himself, and then pushed the comm button next to Bridget’s apartment door.

  “Miss Chavé?” he said, clearing his throat, “it’s me, Agent Tagawa.”

  Her squeal of excitement was audible even through the heavy door, and Keith winced, fighting the urge to turn and run. A split second later the door flew open and she rushed him, wrapping her arms around his waist before he even had time to react.

  “Keith! I was so worried! What took you so long? Your message said 7 PM. It’s five after!” she said, pressing her face against his torso.

  “Traffic,” he grunted, and she pushed herself back.

  She paused for a moment, scrutinizing his face in what he guessed was an attempt to discern whether he was telling the truth. Then she shrugged and cleared her throat. “Oh. Traffic. … Right.” A long awkward pause followed, which Bridget eventually broke.

  “Um … well, now that you’re here,” she stammered, “won’t you come in and make yourself at home? I mean, like, mi casa es su casa, and all that.”

  The decor in the apartment was every bit as gaudy as Bridget: Heavy curtains decorated with red and gold flowers covered the living room windows and blocked out the light from the city. This combined with the brightly colored rugs and throw pillows scattered across the couch made Keith’s head spin—or it could have been the combination of perfume and incense that permeated the flat. He couldn’t be sure.

  Doing his best to ignore the smells and colors assaulting his senses, Keith made his way to the couch and sat down, followed by Bridget. She sat down so close to him that she pinned the edge of his pant leg beneath her.

  He scooted ove
r a little more, trying to be subtle as he jerked his leg free.

  “Miss Chavé, there are some things I need to ask you ... ”

  She smiled widely and snaked her arms around his shoulders, inching her face toward his. “Oh, really? Ask away.”

  “Miss Chavé,” he said, failing to keep his voice from cracking as he pulled back as far as he could, “I think you misunderstand why I’m here!”

  Much to his relief, this response caused her a moment’s pause, and she sat back, eyeing him suspiciously.

  “How so?”

  “I’m here,” he replied, adjusting his tie, which had become horribly askew, “because I need to talk to you about Miss McKelly’s disappearance. According to our investigators, you were one of the last people she had contact with.”

  Bridget crossed her arms over her chest and moved to the far end of the couch, where she sulked in silence for several minutes.

  Finally she began to talk. Bridget related every miniscule detail of her day—right up to the last call she’d placed to Luna. Once it became apparent that she’d told him everything she knew, Keith ended the recording and stood up.

  “Thank you for your help, Miss Chavé.”

  “Yeah, no problem,.” she replied, and then she added, “do you think you’ll be able to catch the guys who did this?”

  She sounded serious.

  Keith was astounded. She was never serious.

  He turned and met her gaze. “Hopefully. If we’re lucky.”

  She nodded, “You’ll let me know if anything changes, won’t you?”

  “I can’t make any promises, Miss Chavé.”

  He reached for the doorknob—intending to let himself out. But Bridget intercepted his hand before he could.

  Immediately he began to panic. Quickly he formulated a verbal plan of escape and was just about to implement it when he was cut short by Bridget’s soft voice.

  “You … you don’t really like me, do you, Keith?”

  He was completely taken aback. He had expected her to ask questions, of course. He’d even rehearsed nearly every conceivable answer to the obvious ones. But this? This was the one thing he had never expected her to say.