The System (Virulent Book 2)

by Shelbi Wescott

  “Of course. Agreed. But if you think it’s easy to just walk out and leave, then you don’t understand the System or the man in charge of it.”

  Her shoulders dropped and she closed her eyes. “I see. It was too good to be true.”

  When she opened her eyes, Cass was standing closer to her face, her hands outstretched, and she placed her hands on Lucy’s shoulders. “An escape would involve conspiracy, espionage, detailed planning, an inside man, a cover-up, and an understanding that whatever you left here would be gone. Forever.” Her eyes pierced sharply into Lucy’s, as if she could impart the importance of her words through her stare. “And miracles. Many, many miracles.”

  “What if I just wanted to save my friend?”

  “Unless you act fast, you have a better chance of escape.”

  Lucy sighed. “You’re a really crappy motivational speaker. I thought you didn’t want this life either. You got my hopes up that it doesn’t have to be like this.”

  “The difference,” Cass replied, pulling away, “is that I know this isn’t the life I want after years of careful thought. You think this isn’t the life for you because you’re comparing it to a life that doesn’t exist.”

  Her honesty stung.

  “Then just tell me what to do,” Lucy said, defeated.

  “No.” Cass shook her head firmly, her braids waving against her back like two black pendulums. “Never. I brought you up here because you needed something special today…to remind you that even though this place is dark and confusing, you are not alone.”

  Lucy’s heart pounded. She could feel the blood rush in her ears. “I’m leaving this place. And I’m leaving with Grant. If you don’t believe I can do it, then I am alone,” Lucy said and she took a backward step back toward the elevator. She felt flustered; she blushed. For every ounce of Cass’s charm, Lucy felt inadequate and blundering. “And…and…I want to get the dog back inside,” she added stammering, grasping. “He shouldn’t be punished for Blair’s mistake. I’ll do that first.” She punctuated her last request by pointing to poor Frank, who still sat against the glass, now barking—although the glass obscured the sound and she couldn’t hear him, only see his mouth open and close, his head turning to follow some unknown sound.

  Then Lucy began to cry; she felt the sharp pang of emotion creeping up, pushing its way out. If Cass said anything to her, anything at all, she knew she would burst into sobs. Being underestimated always made her cry harder than anything else.

  But if Cass was going to reply, she didn’t have a chance.

  Startling them both, an alarm began to ring—loud and clear in the tiny space—an incessant beeping of warning.

  “Is there a fire?” Lucy asked, covering her ears. “Is that a fire alarm?”

  Cass shook her head. She walked over to the wall and flipped a switch. The beeping stopped. Still, Lucy thought she could hear it ringing upward from deep within the belly of the System. She looked frantically to Cass for answers.

  “It’s the alarm for a meeting. If that goes off, we have to gather, by pod, in the Center. As fast as possible.”

  “Does that happen often?”

  “Only once. On Release Day.”

  “What could it mean?”

  Cass walked over and opened her faux wall; she pushed the elevator button and the doors swung open on command. Then she rushed into the tiny space and motioned for Lucy to follow.

  “Huck is summoning. Missing it is not an option. It means we better hurry and sneak back in…before we’re missed…or before we’re caught.” Her eyes scanned the glass and then she closed her eyes for a second. When she opened them, for the first time, Cass’s confidence wavered and she looked afraid.

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  Dean moved in. After helping restock the patio with their supplies, he climbed back into his truck, sat for a few minutes, and then came back to the house with an offer: he’ll move closer and they could pool their resources. The agreements outweighed the dissent.

  Ethan, who missed the entire journey to the Trotter farm and the bonding that ensued, met the new houseguest with blatant contempt. In private, they tried to pass it off as a tactical measure: keep your friends close and your enemies closer. But after time it became apparent that no one thought of Dean as an enemy. While they were enjoying his company, Ethan inwardly seethed about the implications of adding one more person to their group.

  It was one more mouth to feed, one more strong personality to contend with, and one more person to worry about when his family came back to get him. While Spencer and Joey seemed to appreciate what Dean brought to the household—an old school hardness combined with all the qualities of a fun-loving extrovert, especially after a few rounds—Darla communicated that she too was wary.

  “I don’t know, Ethan. I don’t trust him.” And after he pressed further, she looked at him and admitted, “I think there’s something wrong with a man who doesn’t seem to care about whether or not his son lived or died.”

  It was a valid point.

  And their worries hung visibly whenever he entered the room.

  They wanted to embrace their fondness for Grant while exercising their right to dislike his father. After all, he had made off with a six-month supply of meals and never seemed remorseful.

  “I used to think that when the world ended, all these macho hero types would survive. Battling off the evils and looking out for the little guys. That is an inaccurate depiction of our current situation,” Ethan mused to Ainsley and Darla while spinning around the den in his chair. Doctor Krause had given the okay for Ethan to start spending some time out and about. No longer confined to the couch was liberating. He moved the wheelchair right and left, and appreciating his newfound mobility. “Who knew? You try to kill the planet and you get high school principals and gas station attendants battling for a top seat.”

  “Darla’s bad-ass,” Ainsley said and pointed to her friend.

  Darla gave a non-committal look. “Glad to know I’m winning the power-rankings for most-least-likely-person to lead a group of people after the apocalypse. My mother would be so proud.”

  “Let’s just remember that none of us are supposed to be alive, though,” added Ainsley. The sobering thought settled on the room and she frowned. “Sorry.”

  “So then,” Ethan replied, adjusting his body on the couch, “if I saved all your lives, then maybe one-legged undeclared former college sophomore takes first place.”

  “We are doomed,” Darla deadpanned.

  Ethan threw a pillow at her and she batted it away with one swipe.

  “What’s happening in here?” Dean called as he entered the room. Ethan thought he recognized the plaid shirt Dean was wearing as one of his father’s; he added it to an ever-growing list of things that annoyed him about his houseguests.

  “We’re just talking,” Ethan answered.

  “I’ve got something to talk about then,” Dean exclaimed, powering forward with dauntless ambition for ruining conversations. “Spencer and I were having a little chat. Seems like there’s dissention in the ranks about what to do when the killers come back to collect one of their own. Right?”

  Ethan cringed. The killers. Now there was no room left to entertain the idea that the people in Nebraska could be friendly. He shifted uncomfortably and watched as Dean walked the perimeter of the room, examining the spines of books, pulling some out to look at further, and pushing them back. At least he didn’t march in with a presentation.

  “Let me guess,” Darla said. “You think Spencer’s plan is great. Arm ourselves and wait.”

  “I do. Yes.” Dean replied without even looking at them. “I don’t mean to burst anyone’s bubble here, but this guy,” he jabbed his thumb toward Ethan, “isn’t exactly on the same level as us. I actually wanted to add to the plan. I think we have room to negotiate. Make some demands. Food. Water. Shelter. Protection from further attacks.”

  “What if they don’t come?”
Ethan asked.

  As the days passed by, non-arrival seemed more likely than rescue. And with Ethan’s fever returning sporadically and Doctor Krause mumbling worries about infection, everything about his future felt tenuous.

  “Or what if they don’t negotiate?” Darla added.

  “Hey,” Dean threw his hands up. “I’m the new guy, I know. But when Spencer laid it all out for me…I don’t think I want to have anything to do with them. I’m content here. We haven’t ventured out to the suburbs, if we work together we can clear more ground, move around. Start a little garden.”

  Spencer’s flipchart and easel remained set up in the corner. Dean saw it and smirked.

  “A little garden?” Darla scoffed.

  “I can put together a little demo too, if it helps.” Dean ignored Darla. “Look, Ethan and Darla, you’re the holdouts.”

  “I don’t count?” Ainsley asked and then waited. Everyone looked at her. “Fine. I don’t count.”

  “And Doctor Krause agrees with you?” Darla asked.

  Dean shrugged. “It would appear.” Then he cracked his neck and clapped his hands once together. “Well, this has been fun. Just…think about it.” He spun and walked out of the den, and then kept on walking out of the house, shutting the door behind him.

  “If I’d known that Spencer and Dean would end up being besties, I would’ve shot him when I had the chance,” Darla moaned. Then with an agitated sigh, she stomped out of the den, leaving Ainsley and Ethan alone.

  After a prolonged silence, Ainsley turned to Ethan and cleared her throat.

  “I’m growing to hate all the grown-ups,” she moaned.

  Ethan shrugged. “You don’t feel like a grown-up?”

  “No,” she stared at him. “Do you?”

  He made a face. “I feel bored. Boredom is my most active state.”

  “We can cure that,” Ainsley answered.

  Ethan motioned for her to continue.

  “I believe you had offered to take me on a date?” she reminded him with a sly smile. “Or was that some drug induced offer?”

  He paused and turned his head slowly to her. He moved his chair forward and backward; rolling in a straight line and backward, his head hung low. “Oh yeah? I mean…I didn’t think…it was just a…” He looked up at her. “Really?”

  She shrugged. “It was your idea and, well, we’re both bored.”

  “Oh, I see. Boredom-date. Thanks,” Ethan replied sarcastically. “But…”

  “No, sure,” Ainsley stood up without waiting for a full reply and she waved her hands in front of herself. “I get it. It’s fine. I was just kidding too.” She looked at him and then added dryly, “Ha. Ha.” She exhaled. “Cribbage, then?”

  “Fine,” Ethan said before she had time to leave the room. He wheeled his chair a few feet forward; close enough that he could touch her, and he raised his eyebrows. “Okay. I’ll plan a date. Tomorrow night. A real thing…you know…because we’re bored.”

  Ainsley smiled and tucked a piece of curly hair behind her ear. “Well, don’t let me twist your arm,” she said. “I didn’t really—”

  “No, I got this,” Ethan interrupted and he rolled his chair back, unwilling to let Ainsley take back the thinly veiled request. “Trust me.”

  “A what?” Darla asked. She flipped over a card. Teddy waited for his instructions. She looked at him and then said, “Skip around Ethan’s wheelchair while holding…this stuffed animal,” she said and then Teddy took off skipping.

  “A date,” Ethan said loudly and then he lowered his voice and cleared his throat. “A date…you know…something fun. To break up the monotony.”

  Darla high-fived Teddy as he finished the rounds and slid into her, giggling.

  “Your turn, Mommy,” Teddy said and Darla flipped over another card. An X. She smiled and put it in the X pile.

  “So, what is it? A date or just something to break up the monotony?” Darla asked.

  Ethan ran his right hand over the wheel of his chair; it spun in lazy circles in the middle of the den. He didn’t answer right away and then he shrugged.

  “Can’t it be both?” he finally asked.

  “No,” Darla answered instantly. “It can’t be both.”

  “You can’t blame me for wanting to have some fun. We have to make our own fun, right? Humans weren’t made to live like this.”

  Darla rolled her eyes. “You don’t have it so bad,” she said. Teddy flipped a card.

  “What does it say? What do I do?” he squealed.

  “Run upstairs. Touch the door to the bathroom and run back,” Darla answered and Teddy took off running, his little feet pounding heavily against the floor. She shifted her attention back to Ethan and ran her hand through her long dark hair, combing out her tangles with her fingers. “So, what do you want from me?” she asked.

  “What should I do? I need ideas.”

  “This was your idea. You’re on your own.”

  “Come on—” Ethan whined. “I can’t take her to the movies. Or like to a fancy restaurant…” he trailed off. Then he looked at Darla with a crooked smile. “Or can I?”

  Teddy’s pitter-patter began to make its way back to them; they listened as he stampeded down the steps and then rushed into the den, breathless, his cheeks pink.

  “Just tell me what to do, Ethan,” Darla said as she crawled back over to their playing cards and flipped over another one. An X. “Game over, dude,” she told Teddy with a frown and Teddy started calling for another round.

  “I’m going to need some help to get my idea up and running. Help from Dean and Spencer and Joey too. It takes a village,” he replied.

  “That phrase doesn’t refer to dating post-apocalypse. Which,” Darla put a finger up, “I’m not okay with. It feels…”

  “Normal,” Ethan finished for her. “I just want something to feel normal.”

  “Too bad,” she said. “We don’t get that luxury anymore.”

  “I disagree.”

  “When is this date?” She spread out the cards on the floor, shuffling them and mixing them together with both hands.

  “Tomorrow night.”

  “You’re ridiculous.”

  Ethan beamed. “Does that mean you’ll help?”

  Darla fell forward and rested her head on the floor of the den. She banged her head slowly against the wooden floorboards and mumbled something Ethan couldn’t hear. When she brought her head up, she looked at him with annoyed disdain. “I’ll help,” she conceded. “But only because I feel sorry for you.”

  “I’ll take it!” Ethan replied with a wink.

  Doctor Krause looked at the thermometer and shook her head. She reset it and tried it again, waiting the requisite amount of time until the beep-beep-beep signaled that it had reached the apex of its slow climb.

  “How long have you had the bruising?” she asked Ethan and he turned away from her, embarrassed and ashamed. “And the redness. The oozing. How long?”

  “A few days, maybe. Maybe I noticed it yesterday…I don’t know.”

  “And you didn’t tell me? Ainsley didn’t notice when she came in for rounds?”

  Ethan grimaced. Ainsley had been by to check on him, but he hadn’t let her be his nurse the past few days. Instead, he’d encouraged her to just sit with him, play cards, read books. She hadn’t complained about being relieved of nursing duty and it made Ethan feel like he was doing something good—allowing the girl, his friend, to have a life again that didn’t involve constantly checking on him. It was the unfairness of it all that got to him the most—Ainsley didn’t ask to spend her days bound to him. She deserved better than that.

  “She didn’t notice…I didn’t let her check my leg,” he said and the moment the confession left his lips, he knew he had admitted something dangerous.

  The doctor was quiet, like her daughter, stoic and unassuming, but she took her role as Ethan’s caretaker seriously. The flash of worry across her
face was unmistakable and Ethan’s stomach sank.

  “Don’t get mad at her,” he quickly amended. “I just didn’t want to feel like a patient. I wanted to be normal…I didn’t—”

  “You are recovering from the most invasive surgery I can imagine…in a world without access to modern medical care,” Doctor Krause said, her voice rising, trembling, “And you think you can dismiss your nurse because you wanted a friend? Nothing about this is normal. It wouldn’t have been normal a year ago, let alone today.”

  “It’s not her fault—”

  She waved him away. “I can’t tell if the hematoma or the infection is causing the most swelling around the incision. But I need to get you on a round of antibiotics immediately. When did you run out of the other antibiotics? And further more…how many hours have you been spending in the chair? I said the chair was fine for small periods…then you needed to lift the leg.”

  Ethan didn’t reply.

  “Oh, Ethan,” Doctor Krause said in a sigh. “I need to know everything. I can’t help you if I don’t know everything. Let’s start small. How do you feel today? Tell me all the symptoms.”

  He didn’t want to admit that he hadn’t been feeling great. There had been a subtle shift; an ache that he couldn’t get rid of, a headache that never disappeared. But the excitement over his date had usurped his health. He’d assumed the bruising and redness was normal—hadn’t he just lost a limb?

  He cleared his throat. “Pain is worse. I…knew I had a fever…I could tell,” he replied. He watched as Doctor Krause closed her eyes, as if she were sending up a silent prayer. “The phantom pain’s been worse, but I can’t treat it with the meds. And I’ve been feeling pressure in my chest sometimes…I’ll feel like I can’t breathe. I thought maybe I was just having anxiety…”

  “Stop,” she said and put up her hand. “Ethan. You are very sick.”

  He bit his lip and looked away. “Well, I’ll do another round of the antibiotics and—”

  “I think we should move you back upstairs. Elevate your leg on the bed. Have Ainsley come in multiple times a day for physical therapy.”