“How much of this difference is related to what’s happened to you versus what’s been done to you?” Lisa asked.
“My goodness, Lisa, you’re being way too deep this early in the morning.” Amanda smiled but the Flynns remained serious. “We all have to accept that I’m not capable of experiencing things in the same way I used to. If you want to know the truth, I’ve tried; it’s just not there anymore. Parts of me have been erased or lost—important parts.
“I know that you both believe that if I could be put into just the right frame of mind or situation, I could reconnect with myself and my past, and I would be better. But the reality is that the past belongs to someone else.”
The three of them exchanged looks of resignation, and it was obvious that the topic was now off-limits.
“What are you going to do about Reisch?” Greg asked.
“Find him,” she said simply, leaving the rest unsaid. “The problem is that I think we are too late. I’m guessing that a large number of people have already been exposed to the virus and that this is now more of a medical issue.”
“What will you do about that?” It was Lisa’s turn. “Will you help?”
“Not if it means going back to Martin or the CDC; they may be best equipped to deal with this, but I doubt that I could control myself. I probably would make things worse. What about the medical examiner you mentioned, Greg?”
“Phillip Rucker—smart guy but very strange. I think he’s probably the next best choice after Martin.”
“You two should think about staying inside until this has been resolved. The virus is transmitted through human contact, and neither of you are immune.” Amanda got up and rinsed her cup. “I’m going to take a long hot bath before I do anything.”
An hour later, Amanda walked back into the kitchen wrapped in a thick warm robe and her hair wrapped in a towel. She could tell without reading anyone’s mind that something had happened. “What’s going on?”
“Reisch attacked a platoon of soldiers in Manitou Springs. He killed sixteen of them.” Pain was written all over Greg’s face. “Phil Rucker is in the hospital, and the federal government has imposed a curfew on travel, and quarantined the state.”
“Maybe I should have just taken a shower,” Amanda said.
“Can you find him?” Greg asked.
Amanda opened her mind and felt for the German, but like yesterday, all she could sense was a presence. “He’s close, that’s all I can say.” Greg’s face registered his disappointment. “You have to remember, he can do pretty much whatever I can, and it is fairly simple to fade into the background noise of a hundred thousand people. I can tell you that he’s injured and mad as hell.”
“They think that he may have been shot,” Greg added. “Can he be killed?”
Amanda reviewed her own situation. She had been shot at very close range years ago and it barely registered with her. She was an order of magnitude stronger now, and she had every reason to believe that Reisch was also very nearly bulletproof. “Probably not like that.”
“So how do we stop him?” Greg stared at his daughter-in-law.
“You don’t. I do.” Amanda could feel the fear in Greg and Lisa’s minds. ”Why is Dr. Rucker in the hospital?” She had decided to put herself in his hands in hopes of identifying her immunity and then duplicating it. She accepted that in all probability Martin would be involved at some point, but at least it would be on her terms. Now, without Rucker, it would be more difficult.
“He had a seizure or something,” Greg said.
An image of Phillip Rucker suddenly invaded Amanda’s consciousness. “For some reason, I think we should go see him.” She was filled with a compulsion to talk with the pathologist. Greg stared at her, questioning her strange statement. “I’m not sure why,” she answered his look. “But I think it’s important.”
Reisch was breathing hard, but at least the bleeding had stopped. That was twice in less than a day that he had been shot, and the drive back to the outskirts of Colorado Springs had been the most painful moments in memory. He sat on the commode awkwardly and peeled off his blood-soaked shirt. A line of bullet wounds stitched across his abdomen and into his chest—seven shots, not counting the one in his arm from the baby-cop yesterday. This was definitely pushing the envelope, but most of the wounds, both inside and out, had started to seal themselves off. The blood loss, however, was a different issue. He had lost far more than the lethal limit, and although he could will himself to heal, he could not create the needed blood out of thin air.
He slowly changed into the surgical scrubs that he had stolen from the laundry, and gingerly left the staff bathroom. A white lab coat completed the disguise, and now he could conserve his energy and allow the tired and disinterested staff to glance up at him. He found the blood bank and was pleased that the door was unlocked. Less than five minutes later, he had four units of type AB negative blood tucked in the pockets of his gown and scrubs. Now, he just needed a nurse.
He scanned the immediate area and located the on-call physician just up the hall, but to his surprise, he also found the sedated mind of Phillip Rucker. Intrigued almost to the point of distraction, he tried to search the mind of his favorite hobby, but could only see the images of a dying woman. He needed to know more, but it would have to wait.
Two hours later, he had almost a gallon of new blood and fluid running through his veins. All his wounds had healed, and he was starting to feel normal again; a tingling sensation, almost like low-voltage electricity dancing across his skin, but otherwise, he was a hundred percent. A close call, but the tragedy had been averted and lessons had been learned, and now he was off to see the surprising Dr. Rucker.
Amanda could feel his presence. He still remained shrouded, but an invisible cloud of malevolence that she could only assume was Reisch grew thicker the more they drove west. She carefully retracted her own mind and switched to a listening mode. “He’s close,” she told Greg as they parked at St. Luke’s. “He could be here, but I can’t be certain.”
“Can you handle this?” Lisa asked. “You were so exhausted last night.”
“I’m fine,” Amanda said quietly as Greg called Patton for assistance. “He is definitely here.” Her expression changed rapidly to confusion and then anger. “Don’t park here, Greg. Drive around to the main entrance.”
It took them only a minute to skirt the ER and the loading dock, and it became clear what the problem was. Father John Oliver was climbing out of an old Dodge Neon. “Damn,” Greg said at the sight of the priest. He honked his horn and Oliver looked over at them.
Amanda was burning with anger, and was out of Greg’s car before it stopped. ”Get back in that car and get as far from here as possible,” she demanded. She would have done more, but Reisch was far too close.
“He’s here, Amanda,” he said with excitement.
“I told you to stay put. You have no conception of what you’re doing and you’re going to get yourself and others killed.”
Oliver opened his mouth to argue, but before he could utter a syllable Amanda wound up and hit him with a closed fist across the jaw. His head snapped back and all three of them could hear the bone break. Oliver fell to the floor unconscious. ”Lisa, drive him home. Better yet, drive him as far away from here as you can get.” Amanda’s eyes were filled with rage, and Lisa backed away from her beloved daughter-in-law.
Greg reacted first. “No, he has to get medical attention.”
Amanda turned her gaze upon Greg, and he too took a step back. “He will be fine; he’s like me now.”
“Why?” Lisa asked through tears as she and Greg lifted the priest back into his car.
“Reisch was in his mind, he almost saw me.”
Reisch began laughing as he walked down the hall. So the priest had evolved; isn’t that interesting, he thought. So, the mutated virus could also induce the change. This could change the dynamics a little. It wasn’t important now; Phillip Rucker was important now.
The last thing the soldier who shot him saw was the face of Dr. Rucker, and there was every probability that like the priest, Phil had also changed. The new civilization was going to be bigger than his wildest expectations.
Reisch walked straight through the intensive care unit and into the isolation room without challenge. Phil was sound asleep, and Reisch sat down at the foot of the bed and searched Rucker’s mind. He saw Phil giving mouth-to-mouth resuscitation to his, neighbor and Klaus suddenly understood. He had killed Van Der at the height of a breakout, when he was most infectious. He had touched the man’s face, cradled his neck, and finally closed the dead man’s eyes, spreading not just the Colorado Springs virus with his breath, but also the original deadly Hybrid virus with his touch. It was a hardy virus and could easily survive the near-zero temperatures of a cooling body until someone came along and tried to revive the body. Phil was doubly infected and was going to die very soon.
“Walk up, Phil,” and Reisch gave Phil’s brain a jolt.
Phil’s eyes opened, and a look of confusion and then terror shone back at Reisch. Phil recoiled in bed. “Who are you?”
“Oh Phil, how could you ask me that after we’ve spent so much time together?” Reisch smiled and for the first time allowed Phil to see his true face. “I came by to say good-bye. My work here is almost done, but unfortunately, you won’t be here to see what I’ve accomplished. You’re going to die, and it’s not going to be pretty.” Reisch invaded Phil’s mind and filled it with horrific images of the Jihadists dying from the Hybrid virus.” Oh, and one more thing, that pretty little lab assistant, Melissa Shay,” his voice dropped and he leaned in close to Phil’s ear. “You killed her. That’s right. Your infection reached out and activated her pacemaker and it shocked her to death.” Reisch’s face had an insane smile painted across it.
For a moment, Reisch felt Phil’s torment, and he breathed it in like a favorite smell, but then it began to fade. Phil began to fight Reisch’s mental intrusion. “Oh, Phil,” he said and playfully shook his head. “Everybody fights, but nobody . . .”
A deafening snap filled the room, and Reisch was blinded by a bright blue light. Phil’s hand had shot up and grabbed him by the throat; Rucker’s hand and Klaus’s neck began to blacken and burn, but Phil refused to let go. The grip was crushing his windpipe and a searing pain filled his mind. With almost his last conscious thought, Reisch ripped through Rucker’s brain like a chainsaw and he finally let go.
Reisch was thrown to the floor as soon as the connection was broken. Rucker was unconscious, not dead, which greatly irritated Klaus. He slowly climbed to his feet and gathered himself. Killing an unconscious man, especially one who deserved torment, was no fun, but it seemed to be his only option at this point. Rucker was severely injured, and the possibility that he could be roused now was very low.
Klaus moved to the bedside chair and sat down. He needed a moment to recover his strength. The tingling was back in his skin, and as the moments passed, it only intensified. The hair on his arm began to stand on end, and the monitor over Phil’s bed began to smoke and then finally exploded with a shower of sparks. The lights began to flicker and then dim. Reisch looked up to find Amanda at the door.
“Do you want to help? I’m a little tired,” he said. “Your pictures don’t do you justice, Amanda.” Her sudden appearance revived him; energy began to flow back to his fatigued mind, and he slowly rose to his six-foot-five-inch height.
The tempered glass wall exploded next to Amanda, but she didn’t move. The Screams of panic filled the ICU as computers, phones, and overhead lights exploded. The air crackled with static, and small fires spontaneously erupted everywhere. A few heroic nurses tried to put them out but then switched to clearing the ward of patients as the sprinklers suddenly filled the air with water.
“Is this all your doing?” Reisch had to raise his voice above the din.
“I thought it was yours,” she countered. “Now what; do we duel it out like a couple of superheroes?”
“I was hoping that perhaps you’d like to join me; after all, taking life is something you’ve done, and enjoyed.” He took a step closer to her, but the air literally began to sizzle.
“You truly believe that you have been chosen to, what . . . to be our shepherd? Rather egotistical, I’d say.”
“Listen to your own words, Amanda. You’re not a part of this failed experiment any more than I am. You have no place in society because you are above society. The reason you’ve been so unhappy is that you’ve tried to fit into a place that can’t accept you. Listen to your aunt.”
“She told me to kill you in the most painful manner possible, or can’t you see that?”
“I can see the doubt in your mind. Scared of me, are you? I had thought that perhaps it was my duty to destroy you, but now I’m having doubts.”
“Pushkin,” Amanda snorted. “Am I pronouncing your hallucination’s name correctly?”
“I don’t see us as enemies, Amanda. I believe all you need to do is accept the possibility of a new world. You could even save those you want—Greg, Lisa, Aunt Emily. It is inevitable and preordained. Even now, people are evolving, just like your priest. It can’t be stopped, so why don’t you help us.”
“You mean your terrorist buddies?” She scoffed.
“You can see farther than that; they are simply a means to an end, and in time, they will be gone as well. You can’t stop this, Amanda; I know you can see that even without me the virus will be released.”
“Then why do you need that?” Amanda pointed at the small bag attached to his belt.
“Call it insurance.” He felt her mind darkened as the energy that enveloped her focused into a single point. Reluctantly, but savagely, he threw her against the far wall of the unit. The air about him immediately calmed. “I don’t want to hurt you, but I can’t let you interfere. If you can’t see reason, then I have no choice . . .” He wondered why he hadn’t finished his thought the moment before he struck the window in Phil’s room. The glass cracked, but didn’t shatter, and he fell across an unconscious Phil. There was another snap, another blue light, and Klaus was flying against a side wall, his forearm burned to the bone. For a moment, his white lab coat caught fire, but he quickly extinguished it. “This is getting very tiresome, Amanda,” he said picking himself up from the floor. She stared back defiantly, and he struck at her with every ounce of energy he had remaining. Amanda deflected it with a wave of her hand.
More glass exploded, and the air began to sizzle as she walked towards him. His face began to burn, but still she closed the distance. When she was within ten feet, she was forced to stop.
Reisch slumped against a wall, as his arm was already sealing itself. “An impasse,” he said looking into the anger that filled her eyes. “I can see the killer in you, Amanda. Why don’t we take this life together, and start out our new lives right.” He motioned to Phil.
“You reach for him and I will have you,” she said, fatigue filling her voice.
“And if you try and protect him, I will have you,” he answered, knowing that neither could sustain this mental wrestling match much longer, but that the first to let go would die.
“Tired Klaus?” She mocked him.
“No more than you,” he shot back.
Amanda took a step towards him and the air audibly crackled. Klaus backed away, but she kept coming.
“You’ll kill him as well,” Reisch said his back against the window.
“Small price to pay,” she said, taking a step into the thickening air. The sheet on Phil’s bed began to smoke, the floor began to vibrate, and an unbearably loud, high-frequency sound shattered all the remaining glass in the ICU.
He watched and listened as she struggled with herself. A part of her embraced death, almost welcomed it as a redemptive sacrifice, but a different part stopped her from taking that last step. A shadow of doubt, buried for years under a mountain of conditioning, guilt, and responsibility had struggled free, and she hesitated. M
aybe he’s right, it whispered.
A small red dot appeared on Reisch’s forehead, and then three more on his chest. A moment later, he was flying through the air and his only clear thought was Not again.
“We’ve checked three times; both of them are worthless,” Martin said. “The biohazard vial had nothing but wood shavings, and the bottle that was supposed to hold the vaccine was tea.” They had wasted eight precious hours sifting through powdered balsa wood before realizing that they had been duped.
“Avanti insists that you’re wrong,” General McDaniels said.
“We’re not,” Martin said sadly. “So we’re back to square one. Look on the bright side, maybe all Jeser has is wood shavings and tea.”
“It makes no sense—why would he go to so much trouble for an utterly transparent ruse?”
“For what it’s worth, I don’t think he knew. I think that he believed that he had the original virus and vaccine. I’m guessing they found him out and switched the vials.”
“That doesn’t track well. If they knew that he was going to betray them, they would have killed him, or at a very minimum, sent someone else.” McDaniels’s voice betrayed his anxiety. “Do you have anything for me, any good news?”
Martin tried to think of anything positive. ”We’ve started to culture the Colorado Springs virus. In a week, we should have enough to work with.”
“A week. I doubt that’s going to make the president’s day.”
“There are certain physical realities that limit us and wishing won’t change those. What about Amanda Flynn? She would be a tremendous help.”
“Yes, she would be, and we may be close to resolving that issue.” McDaniels’s voice was circumspect.
“You know where she is?” Martin said with surprise and accusation.
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