The System (Virulent Book 2)

by Shelbi Wescott

  “Thanks,” she said as she bit into the chewy oats. “Did Dad leave?” she asked with her mouth full of chocolate.

  “A little bit ago, yeah,” Galen said and he sat down on the bed next to Lucy. “Mom won’t tell us about Ethan.” He looked at the floor. “She said we’ll discuss it later, after we get you better.” Galen paused. “It’s been really hard.”

  Lucy turned to her brother. The middle-child of their clan; capable of being simultaneously annoying and unassuming. He liked to read and help their mom bake, which Ethan never tired of mocking. Unlike the perpetually dirt-stained, snot-streaked, booger picking twins, Galen enjoyed keeping up his appearance, and in the sixth grade had taken to ironing his own shirts after Mama Maxine berated him for his unrealistic demands on her laundry schedule. He wasn’t quiet, but he was often talked over. And he’d taken to watching old Hitchcock movies instead of the dumb comedies and action films that his peers preferred.

  But he was still her little brother—and Lucy had enough stories of rude comments spoken over shared toys, fights over bathroom time, and a history of Galen’s pre-pubescent contempt for family, that she hadn’t really looked at her brother as anything other than someone to share space with. Just when he’d endear himself to her, Galen would undo it all with sarcastic comment or an ill-timed prank.

  Without warning, Lucy leaned over and wrapped her arms around Galen’s upper body. She held on as tight as she could. He rocked backward under her impromptu hug and then laughed.

  “So, you missed me too, then?” Galen asked as Lucy sat back, her eyes glistening.

  “I never wanted to believe that any of you were gone,” she said and swallowed the rest of her snack. “And then when Ethan let me listen to mom’s voicemails and there was hope—”

  “You should’ve seen her,” Galen said with wide eyes, remembering. “She went crazy.”

  Lucy didn’t admit that the news was refreshing. That somewhere in the back of her mind, even still, she wondered if any of them had tried to come for her, tried to save her.

  “She wouldn’t stop crying,” Galen added.

  “Good,” Lucy said. Then she sighed, regretting the knee-jerk reaction, and shot a look to her brother. “No, I didn’t mean that. I thought everyone left me to die…”

  “Have you ever seen mom throw a punch?” he asked with a smirk.

  Lucy shook her head. “I don’t believe you. She didn’t.”

  “She did.” And Galen laughed at the memory. “Some men-in-black type. Sunglasses, suit. Right in the jaw. Bam.” He mimicked the man’s head tossed back from the force, complete with sound effects. Then his smile disappeared. “The guy said fine. She could go get her children. But that this plane was leaving with or without her…and that per Mr. King’s orders, the children who already boarded would have to stay. There was no time to wait.”

  “She had to choose,” Lucy stated the obvious conclusion, just to hear it out loud.

  “We didn’t even know what was going on outside.”

  Lucy raised her eyebrows. “The virus?”

  “We thought we were at war.”

  “It was a war.”

  “You know what I meant.”

  They were silent for a moment.

  “It hasn’t been good,” Galen said again. “They’ve been fighting. About you. About Ethan. I know that you don’t want to be here—”

  “That’s not it at all,” Lucy interrupted. “It’s just…” she weighed her words, “this place…it isn’t what I thought it would be. It’s all so…strange. I need time to adjust to it.”

  “This place isn’t so bad,” Galen said. “I thought so at first. But—” he hesitated. “I’ve heard Mom and Dad talking. I’ve listened to them at night. Everyone else is too young to understand…but I get it. And because I get it, because I understand…I think I can appreciate this place.”

  She raised her eyebrows. “What do you understand?” she asked.

  “The world was going to end no matter what. Dad saved us. He really did, Lucy. He saved us from dying out there…saved us from everything that was going to happen in the world. This place is only temporary and then we get to start over. I don’t know,” Galen trailed off. “I’m glad Dad did this for us. I think he made the right decision. And I kinda like it here.”

  Lucy bit her lip and looked up to the ceiling. “You wouldn’t feel that way if you were the one left behind. Trust me. I didn’t get saved from anything. My best friend died. I spent a week trapped in my school. I just traveled here with another friend…who is going to die. What exactly was I saved from?” She instinctually rubbed her wrists. The battle wounds of her night with Spencer had healed, but there was a patch of bright white new skin, where the handcuffs had cut the deepest: a permanent scar.

  “You’re not dead,” Galen offered, but he was tentative. He rubbed his temples and didn’t look at his sister. “And I bet Dad will get Huck to go get Ethan. Now that things have settled down? I bet he will.”

  “That’s great,” Lucy said, and she meant it. Ethan needed to come to this place, needed the doctors and the help. “What do you know about this Huck guy?” she asked, shifting her body on the bed to face him—her knees touching the side of his legs as he dangled them off the bed.

  “He runs this place. He’s nice.”

  “Why do you like this place?”

  Galen turned a bit, “They have a game room. A gym called the Center. Things for us to do, like movie nights and stuff. It just feels…I don’t know…the people are nice here. It’s…I can’t explain it…it’s not like it would seem. We all know we’ve survived something big and we’re all in this together. Maybe it’s hard to explain. But I’ll take you on a tour when you’re up for it.”

  “You wouldn’t want to go home?”

  He processed her question and thought for a bit. Then he shook his head. “I miss some of my stuff, I guess. But like I said, we’re not staying here.”

  “We’re moving back?”

  “Home? No. I’ll have Dad tell you. He can show you the blueprints. It’s awesome. Huck’s building floating cities! Six of them. One city for each of the six underground Systems.”

  “There are six of these things?” Lucy pointed upward.

  Galen nodded and smiled. “All over the world! It’s great, Lucy. You’ll think so too. I know it.”

  Lucy didn’t say anything. She just stared at her brother and wondered if he would have felt the same unbridled enthusiasm for her father and Huck’s plan if he had seen the bodies and the destruction; maybe he didn’t even know the reality of the outside world—the crumbling cities, the devastated earth.

  Galen thought he was at a type of summer camp.

  She knew better.

  Beyond that, she couldn’t wrap her mind around why Grant would be a threat to any of this. Was the System so weak, so brittle, and unreliable that one extra person could send it plummeting into destruction?

  “I want to find my friend,” she said. “Do you know your way to the tanks?”

  Galen’s eyes grew wide and he shrank away from her. “No, Lucy. I can’t. We’re not supposed to snoop.”

  “Does Dad have a lab here?”

  He nodded, “But I can’t take you there either. I don’t know where it is.”

  Lucy handed him the plastic cup. “Thanks for the milk. I want to be alone now,” she said and then she tipped herself back over and crawled under the comforters, pulling the blankets over her head until she heard Galen let himself out.

  CHAPTER NINE

  Grant opened his eyes. He stared at the man standing near his shackled body and recognized him in an instant. For a second, he tried to place himself—there was the tank, then the guards, the injection, and now, this bland hospital room, his body flat against the hard bed. He knew he was incapacitated, so he didn’t even try to move or fight. Instead, he followed with his eyes as Mr. King moved around the room; the scientist adjusted vials, and syringes,
slapped on latex gloves, and hummed a jaunty little tune. He hadn’t seemed to notice Grant was awake and just now coming out of his sedation—which was a bit unnecessary; Grant wasn’t throwing any fits, and he would have gladly climbed up on this bed and let them strap him down if it meant that Lucy could be reunited with her family.

  It wasn’t out of some chivalrous desire for self-sacrifice either. She just deserved a happy ending; he really felt that way.

  Somewhere in Idaho, Grant had the realization that this may not end well for him.

  He had kept his alarmist opinions to himself. Lucy had written a whole new chapter with him as her newly minted brother; he’d just become one of their family—it was all smiles and pep, with the TV soundtrack of a 90s family comedy, complete with laugh-track and a moral at the end.

  This moral: You do not walk into the hidden underground hideout of an evil mastermind and expect to get adopted into his family.

  Lucy was going to be super disappointed with the way things turned out. Cue audience sad moans.

  Scott King’s eyes met with Grant and he raised his eyebrows a bit. “You’re awake. I apologize for the entertainment,” he said with a self-deprecating smile, suddenly awkward.

  “I’m always a fan of Scientist Humming. One of my favorites,” Grant offered up and Scott’s smile widened.

  “Yes, um, that was Humming in a Major Chord,” Scott continued the joke. “A favorite.” Then Lucy’s father walked over to Grant and without warning plunged a needle into his arm; Grant flinched and then relaxed as Scott withdrew the needle. Then he slapped around for Grant’s veins and carefully drew a vial of blood. He held his finger over the injection site for a few moments before walking away, looking at the blood with curiosity.

  “There’s no need for sudden needle plunges,” Grant called after him. “I’m not a big fighter. I’d rather know what you’re doing.”

  Scott nodded without turning around. “Noted,” he replied absentmindedly. They fell into an uncomfortable silence.

  “You want to know why I’m alive,” Grant said to Scott, hoping to extend the conversation.

  Scott turned to Grant. He tucked the capped vial of Grant’s blood into his lab coat pocket. “Yes,” he replied. “It’s perplexing.”

  “Up until a few hours ago, I thought it was sort of like a super power,” Grant replied. “I mean…Virus Boy. Has a good superhero ring to it.”

  Scott kept his eyes trained on Grant; then he smiled.

  “Virus Boy,” Scott repeated and he chuckled. Grant shrugged and put his hands in his lap—he tried to think of more virus jokes, but they eluded him. He wished he had paid more attention in biology class; there had to be a good zinger about antibodies.

  For a brief moment, Grant thought maybe it would be exactly like Lucy suspected—they’d free him from his metal bed, invite him up for supper, and bygones would be bygones. If Scott King appreciated humor, maybe Grant could win him over with puns and superhero jokes all night.

  He had nothing else.

  No leverage.

  No parents searching for him; no living family hoping for his return. Only Lucy and her friendship was the only clout he had, but he didn’t want to use her. It wasn’t fair.

  “I can see why my daughter enjoyed your company,” Scott replied and he turned to leave. “It’s clear that you are a good guy, Grant. And you’ve been good for her. I appreciate that.”

  “We were separated,” Grant said, his voice trailing off. “I’ve been worried. But… I mean, just, it must have been a great reunion. So, she’s happy now? I guess, I mean…” he stopped. He didn’t know what he wanted to say. He lifted his wrist and the chain lifted with him. “I just want her to be happy, you know? So, is she? Does she seem happy?”

  Scott paused and he ran his teeth over his lips and made a clicking noise with his tongue. “She’s concerned about you, actually. She’s having a rough time understanding this place.”

  “Huh,” was all Grant could think to say. He wished she wouldn’t. He wished she would just enjoy seeing everyone again. “Will you tell her that I said that…”

  “I’ll stop you right there,” Scott interrupted. “You have to know Lucy well enough now to know that telling her something won’t change what she thinks.” He leaned against the counter. “This is a huge adjustment and there’s no easy way to explain—” Scott motioned around the room in a sweeping gesture.

  Grant let the chain rise and fall and hit the metal bed. It clunk-clunk-clunked in the small room. Then he let his eyes scan the small room; all the vials and science equipment.

  “Hey, I have a question…it’s embarrassing,” Grant said after a moment.

  “I don’t do embarrassing,” Scott answered quickly and turned to walk away. “I’d send an assistant in…but I’m afraid it’s just me and you, kid. So, sorry. I’m sorry. Never could do any of that stuff even with my own kids—”

  “No—” Grant called to him, backpedaling. “No. Not like, you know, physically embarrassing. Or personal…no…nothing like that. I wanted to ask about…” he paused and then decided just to say it. “Zombies?”

  “Zombies.”

  “Yeah, you know, the undead. Flesh-eating dead people.”

  “I know what zombies are,” Scott answered. “What do you want to know about them?”

  “Can they happen? In real life?”

  Scott took a tentative step back toward Grant and tilted his head to the side, regarding Grant with equal parts amusement and concern. “You want to know if zombies are real?”

  “Could be real. It’s just…you’re a scientist and all. You study viruses, right?”

  After a delay, Scott nodded.

  “Mythologically speaking a virus is one way zombies happen. Virus. Zombies. And so, could all of the people who died of the virus…just…you know…”

  Scott laughed and the sheer volume of it scared Grant into silence. He stopped talking and looked at the man sidelong. All of the pictures at the King house showed him with a reserved smile—never showing his teeth—his arms wrapped around Maxine, who always looked a few years older than him. The patriarch of the King brood mastered photographic stoicism. But here, he seemed lively and jovial; endearing even, and Grant did not know how to marry the Scott King he expected and the Scott King standing before him. He waited until Scott was done laughing and then looked at him, unblinking.

  “I’m sorry,” Scott said and he held up a finger. Then he grabbed a chair from the corner and dragged it over to Grant’s bedside. Sitting across from Grant, crossing one leg and leaning over, Scott smiled. “Okay. No. The bodies killed by the virus are dead. Gone.”

  “Okay,” Grant answered, waiting with baited breath to see if Mr. King would indulge him.

  “If you’re asking whether or not zombies are scientifically disproven, however, then I can’t answer no. I don’t have empirical evidence, but there is some anecdotal evidence that might support zombies.”

  “English,” Grant replied.

  “I haven’t seen any. Don’t expect to. Research suggests…maybe.”

  “Maybe.” Grant smiled.

  Scott leaned in a bit further. “We’re not talking about an army of the undead. That’s impossible. Once people are dead, they are, in fact, dead. But there are medicines that can simulate death and chemicals that can cause a zombie-like reaction. People have been known, anecdotally, to die and then have vague recollections of their behavior for an extended period of time. But those are not real deaths…they are chemically simulated deaths.”

  “That’s not the same,” Grant said and he felt a bit let down. He was hoping Lucy’s father could answer this question for him once and for all.

  “Maybe not a Hollywood version of zombies, but if someone was close to death and spent time in a zombie-like state? And perhaps that state had lowered inhibitions or hallucinations? Well, then, that is quite remarkable.”

  “Would those zombies like brains?”<
br />
  “No way of knowing,” Scott replied. “Seems a trial would be needed to measure a chemically simulated zombie’s desire for human flesh.”

  Grant smiled. “Awesome.”

  “We wondered if the virus we were creating would in fact create a zombie-like phenomenon,” Scott revealed in a whisper. “If the virus damaged part of the brain, but left vital organs working and functioning. But that wasn’t our desire. And, ultimately, none of our test subjects succumbed in that fashion, which is good.”

  “You wanted to kill people. Done and done.”

  Spoken plainly, Scott bristled. He frowned and tapped his hand against the metal bedframe. Then he lifted his head and nodded. “Yes. We did.”

  “You’re very honest,” Grant replied.

  “When discussing science, I appreciate the truth. Other things? Not so much. I appreciate the good white lies, the social niceties. By nature I’m inclined to lie…but honesty is a precept of our new world. I’m getting used to it.” Scott clapped his hands and then put them in front of him. His forehead glistened.

  Grant tried to force a smile: honest murders, such a relief. “Okay…what happens to me? Since we’re being so truthful.”

  The question took Scott off guard and he leaned back in his chair. He glanced to the door and then to a small camera in the corner of the room. For a few seconds, he was gone in some faraway place, and then he looked right at Grant and shook his head.

  “We planned on survivors. Those who escaped, somehow, exposure to the virus. Pockets of indigenous people untouchable for a time. However, within populated areas, those who witnessed the fall and the chaos and didn’t die? We couldn’t have that. So, if there is a group of people who are immune? It’s a problem. You are, to be blunt, an overlooked and missing piece in my plan. If I figure out how you survived, then I can prepare.”

  “For?” Grant raised his eyebrows.

  “How to…go forward.”