“That won’t be necessary, Mr. Burke,” Thuy said, gently. She turned to the visibly angry, FBI agent. “Though I don’t agree with Mr. Deckard’s method of handling this situation, I concur that we have strayed beyond anything resembling a debriefing. You are clearly trying to trip me up in some fashion, perhaps in order to assist in some future criminal proceeding. Sorry, but I will not ‘play’ along. Despite what you’ve hinted at, I have rights.”
“Are you saying you are no longer cooperating?” Meeks asked, quietly.
“I won’t be cooperating with a kangaroo court, whose sole purpose is to find a scapegoat. I will cooperate scientifically. I will answer your questions honestly and to the best of my ability, however if you insist on asking the same questions over and over again, then I’m sorry, I will not answer. If you’ve forgotten a previous answer you should refer to the recording.” She indicated the camcorder held by one of the soldiers in the room. The other two held guns.
“She’s answered all of my preliminary questions,” the army Bio-weapons expert, Colonel Haskins stated. He hadn’t liked the answers to his questions, especially the probable incubation period. He had felt his stomach drop when Thuy had said: A person exposed to the Com-cells will, depending on body weight and metabolism, become infectious within approximately two hours. The idea was sickening. They started with forty patients and half a day later, Poughkeepsie with its fifty thousand people was a ghost town. Reconnaissance flights had shown only the undead left roaming the streets.
Haskins knew that the official jargon was “Infected Person” but the Air Force recon planes had amazing photo capability. All it took were a few close-up stills of the zombies eating people for him to forever throw the words “Infected Person” out the window. These weren’t people anymore. These were things that had to be exterminated.
Dr. Tanis of the CDC was also quiet. He had no need for scapegoats, and he was sure he wasn’t going to have time for them either. He had been privy to the official projections of different outbreaks since he had come to the CDC fourteen years earlier. For three straight years, he had been in charge of writing MMRs: Morbidity and Mortality Reports. It had been a wearing three years churning out documents entitled: Estimating the Future Number of Cases in the Ebola Epidemic—Liberia and Sierra Leone, 2014-2015.
With its thirty-one charts, and ninety-eight pages that one had been a best seller. Thankfully, the projection had been off. CDC projections frequently discount the idea of changing human reactions to a deadly pathogen in their midst and they have a long history of instilling that prejudice within their reports. Ebola was a fine example. What caused the outbreak to flourish was the way the bodies were ritualistically cleaned before burial. Relatives handled the corpses at a point when they were carrying their highest pathogen load, covered in blood and feces. It wasn’t until this was pointed out, repeatedly, that the death tolls began to level off.
Tanis didn’t think they would be so lucky this time. There wasn’t a behavioral component to the spread of the Com-cells, there was just a mindless, insatiable hunger driving the infected. The virus was definitely blood-borne and yet, because of the elements of the fungi within it they had to take precautions against it being airborne as well. He went to rub his weary eyes forgetting the plastic hood and just ended up smearing his face screen. “I will need more specific information on the Com-cells,” he said.
“The original?” Thuy asked. “I have more information about that, based on memory, granted. Let’s see they’re approximately 143,000 nucleotides in length. It encodes seven structural proteins including nucleoprotein, polymerase cofactor, VP35, and VP40. There’s also, GP, transcription activator, VP30, VP24, and RNA-dependent RNA polymerase.” She saw his eyes begin to glaze and realized that he’d been too long compiling data on other people’s work rather doing anything original. In her experience, it tended to dull the mind. “Unfortunately the specifics, the uh written specifics were kept under pretty tight lock and key at Walton. They were undoubtedly destroyed in the fire.”
“Well, whatever you can remember might well be helpful,” Tanis replied.
Special Agent Meeks, still with his face shield smeared with spittle, said, “She’s going to be more than helpful. She’s going to jump through every hoop I can think of or I’ll have her on obstruction of justice and this isn’t a normal obstruction charge. It’ll be a life sentence for you young lady. I’ll fucking see to it.”
“She’s answered your questions,” Deckard growled, stepping between them.
“Back off!” Meeks snapped. “You’re on the same hook as she is. That goes for all of you.”
“We didn’t do nothin’ wrong,” Burke said. “Me and Chuck and Stephanie didn’t do nothin’. No offence, Doctor Lee, but you could say we was the victims here.”
Thuy was surprised how much that hurt. “I’m sorry,” she whispered.
“Sorry?” Meeks demanded. “You’ve killed 50,000 people and sorry is all you have to say? And you three,” he said pointing at Chuck, Burke, and Stephanie. “We are talking about the destruction of America! You may not love this country but I do and I will do anything to keep her safe. You will comply or else.”
Stephanie laughed suddenly. She really laughed. It was all belly and it was loud. It didn’t go with their surroundings and the others worried for her, but she didn’t need their worry. “Don’t get me wrong, I love my country, but do you really think you can threaten me or Chuck? Ha-ha! We’re dying of cancer you stupid douchebag. You don’t scare me in the least…and those guys with the guns? Nope, not afraid of them either. So why don’t you take your threats and shove them up your ass?”
Both Burke and Chuck started grinning but in seconds, they were rolling on the ground laughing, tears springing from their eyes. Even Deckard joined in, though his laughter was mostly out of spite. There were still many punishments that the FBI could mete out to him and Thuy. Wilson was in the same boat as Deckard, and he was actively worried about his practice being taken from him. He smiled but it was without strength.
“So you have nothing more to say?” Meeks asked Thuy. She shook her head. He then turned to the others. “And you think you have nothing to fear? I think we’ll put that to the test. People have been slipping out of the quarantine zone and we have to put them somewhere. Be sure to make them comfortable when they arrive.”
That quieted the tent. They all feared becoming zombies, all except for Burke who thought he was immune. “Don’t be a dick,” Burke rumbled. “No one here did anythin’ wrong.”
“I have my orders,” Meeks replied. “All escapees are to be housed in a quarantine tent. This is the only tent available.” By the crinkling around his eyes, they could tell he was smiling malevolently. “Now do you have anything more to say, Dr. Lee?”
In truth, she didn’t. She hadn’t held back in the least. “I have told you everything, honestly.”
“Then I have even less regret,” Meeks said. He gestured for the others to leave with him. The two doctors left with downcast eyes and soon the six were alone again.
John flipped him the bird as he zipped up the tent. He then got up, scowling as the others remained seated looking shocked. “It’ll be ok,” he told them. “Y’all can jes sit over at the far end of the tent and if there does happen to be sumptin wrong with anyone they bring in here, I’ll do him up good.”
“The spores maybe airborne,” Thuy said. “Do you understand what that means, Mr. Burke?”
“It means they goes in the air I reckon.”
“But we don’t know that for sure,” Deckard said. “I think John’s plan is the best we have.”
Thuy hated the idea and wouldn’t be a part of it and yet she was in no position to stop it either. She was dreadfully afraid of coming to come face-to-face with whoever they brought in. Would they realize she had been at the heart of everything? Would they blame her? Of course they would. There was no question of that.
It was such a horrible idea that when the zipper st
arted to come down a few minutes later she hid her face in her hands and only peeked through her fingers. A teenage boy: small and thin with a bush of brown hair on his head, and a nose and feet that he was still growing into, was hustled through the opening and stood looking as if he was going to vomit on his tennis shoes. Like a gang of highway robbers, first Stephanie and then the others, lifted the front collars of their shirts to cover their faces.
“Sit right there,” Burke growled, pointing at a corner near the door. The boy looked too shell-shocked to even think about disobeying. Burke looked him up and down. “Y’all get bit or scratched?”
“No I didn’t I was…”
“Jes nod yo head, boy!” Burke snapped. “There ain’t no need to be runnin’ y’all’s gums.”
“Mr. Burke!” Thuy hissed. “Have some compassion. I’m sure this young man has done nothing wrong. We should treat him with respect, and it would be appropriate to explain to him what is going on around here. The reason we’re here is because there was an accident and some, for want of a better word, germs were released.”
“I know, they make people into zombies,” the boy said, his teeth worrying at his lip.
Thuy swallowed hard at that. She held up a finger, wanting to argue the point because, after all, what he had said wasn’t scientifically accurate. Deckard nudged her in the ribs and shook his head slightly. She bit back a proper explanation. “Yes, in a sense the victims become zombies.” She put special emphasis on the word since she had to choke it out. “And once they have metamorphosed they become contagious. We’re worried that you might have been exposed to one of the, uh, zombies.”
“No…no I ran,” the boy said. “I…I, put my little brother in my tuba c-case and I-I ran.”
“Tuba case?” Thuy said, feeling pain score her heart. How desperate does a person have to be to put a child in a tuba case? “How long ago was that?”
“I don’t know. Like around sunrise.”
The words made her head go light. If Thuy hadn’t been seated, she would’ve fallen over. Parts of her were completely without feeling and in other parts all she felt was a deep pain. “Sunrise?” she asked breathlessly. “That was hours ago. We…we should try to get help for your brother. Where do you live? Where did this happen?”
“Thuy,” Deckard said, gently.
“No!” she cried and pushed his hands away. “I did this! We…I have an obligation to help him and his brother.” She tried to get up but Deckard held her down. His hands were like iron and his arms, steel. She fought him, but he was too strong and too big. “I d-did this!” she wailed. She cried in great retching sobs and the tent was quiet but for her. The boy cried as well. In silence, tears dripped from his eyes. His brother was dead, he was sure of it…he only hoped he died of asphyxiation in the tuba case and not from the zombies.
“Ever-one hush,” John Burke said, holding out his hands and cocking his head. “I hear them comin’ back.”
Thuy began shaking her head, afraid to see more children being herded into the tent. She didn’t think she’d be able to handle any more children. Tears streamed down her face and her breath began to hitch, sounding like a bad case of hiccups, but when she saw the people who came in, her body slipped back into her control, mostly. She couldn’t stop herself from flying at the pair, her hand out stretched to rake their eyes out.
Deckard stopped her, barely. “No, they may be infected.”
“All the more reason they should die!” Thuy screamed.
Anna Holloway had been expecting to denounce Eng the second they entered the tent, now she hid behind him as Thuy fought like a beast to get at her. “I didn’t do anything,” she said. “I was a spy, but that was all. I didn’t sabotage anything. It was Eng who did it. Ask him. He speaks English better than you and me.”
The Chinese operative shrugged, glanced around and then planted himself wordlessly next to the teenager who drew into himself even more.
Chuck took hold of one of Thuy’s arms and Deckard the other. “Just calm down, Doc,” Chuck said, easily. “They’ll get theirs, you can bet on it. When that Meeks guy comes back, he’ll rip into them and that’s for darned sure. Until then we should keep away, just in case they got the zombie bug.”
After glaring fiercely for a second, she turned cold. “That’s a sound plan, Mr. Singleton,” Thuy said, quietly. She would have her revenge, one way or the other. Never in her life had she ever contemplated the word revenge seriously, but now it took over her mind, filling her with a white-hot hate. “We should keep our distance for an hour or two, and I agree we should turn them over to the authorities, eventually, but I want them to suffer. I want revenge.” Her words were so cold Anna felt the chill of them wash over her.
“You’ve already had your revenge on me, Dr. Lee. Look at me! Look at my hand. You did that when you left me dangling in that elevator shaft. Remember that? And look at my wrists and ankles. Eng held me hostage and raped me for hours last night. Don’t try to pin this on me. I’ve been punished enough…and all I did was take some pictures and send some emails. It was Eng who sabotaged the Com-cells. It was Eng who made all of this happen.”
“What about the fire?” Thuy asked in a voice as soft as silk and as deadly as an adder. Anna’s face turned the color of old cheese. “You set the fire that ended up killing Riggs and Milner. Remember that?”
“You have no proof,” Anna answered, too quickly. It was only a guess. She didn’t know what sort of evidence Thuy possessed.
Thuy laughed softly. It was an evil sound. “Proof is for the courts. You are guilty in my eyes and I swear there will be a just punishment for you. Something more than a few lacerations on a pinky. Something closer to true justice. An eye for an eye, perhaps. Something that would make Hammurabi smile.”
Anna began to deny everything, one last time: “But I didn’t do…” It faltered under the hard glare. She looked away from Thuy. The others were just as cold. Only Eng and the boy next to him were different. The boy looked as though he’d been hit over the head with a shovel and Eng was smiling, gloating.
“Now who’s fucked?” he asked.
An hour before, just after they had made it beyond the barrier, Eng had turned his .38 on her. “I’m sure you understand. I can’t have you telling anyone that I’m alive.” Her mouth had come open to beg for her life and to promise she’d never mention him to anyone—she didn’t get a chance to speak this lie. Eng had cocked the pistol causing her heart to leap into her throat.
He would have shot her right then, but at that moment, four Humvees had come bustling into view from the east. Just as quick, the .38 was out of sight and Eng had her by the shoulders. “I will shoot you, I swear,” he said. “Be smart or else.”
She nodded, but that too was a lie. The Humvees stopped in front of them and men in masks had hopped out with guns pointed. They were all pointed Eng’s way. “You’re fucked,” she whispered and then stepped away from him and went into her performance. “Thank God you came! He raped me and held me at gunpoint. He’s got a pistol in his pocket.”
Eng’s hand had strayed to his pocket causing one of the soldiers to step forward aggressively, his finger drawing back on the trigger. “Hands up, you fuck!” he ordered. Eng’s face went flat, expressionless, and very slowly his hands went to head height. The soldier’s gun then swung toward Anna. “You too!”
“Me? I didn’t do anything. Look at my wrists. He tied me up and raped me!” In spite of the hoods and masks, she could see their moment of hesitation. It was a moment only. They had their orders and so they came forward to frisk the two, only Anna couldn’t allow herself to be frisked. In her pocket was a vial of the deadly Com-cells. Its presence would raise questions she couldn’t answer.
“I didn’t do anything,” she said, backing away, clutching herself. Her hand had stolen to her pocket and now the vial was in her palm. She considered dropping it but they would see. She turned away as though she had a thought of running.
“Stop!” one of
the soldiers demanded. She could hear the hyped-up fear in his voice; it was raw as a wound. He would shoot if he had too. With her back to him, she stuffed the vial into her bra.
“Don’t touch me,” she whimpered, mentally preparing the soldiers to accept the idea that she was fragile and damaged. She cried some good fat tears and when they frisked her, they kept well away from her breasts. Then she and Eng had been forced to sit in the grass, under guard until an ambulance arrived. “You zip your lip, I’ll zip mine,” she had whispered to Eng, hoping to come to a truce. Neither of them would benefit if it became known they were associated with Walton in any way.
He had given her the tiniest of nods.
The truce had lasted longer than either expected and now, with mutual enemies staring hate their way it would have to continue. “We’re both fucked,” she whispered. “Unless we can get out of here.” Both were realists: she didn’t trust him and he didn’t trust her, but they needed each other. They were also opportunists and each looked for the right moment, the right set of circumstances they could benefit from.
It turned out the opportunity to escape was right next to them. After thirty minutes of silence in the tent, the teenage boy suddenly whispered to himself: “This is fucked.” It was a snarl, but a low one.
“Look at me,” Anna said to him.
“What?” he spat out. His eyes were dark. They had been the color of a summer’s sky, but now they were a deeper, navy blue. They would slip into the color of midnight soon. After that…
“I know who did this to you,” Anna whispered.
Chapter 13
A Fight Against Odds
11: 00 a.m.
At eleven that morning PFC Fowler killed his forty-third zombie of the morning. He was in the back position fifty yards behind Johnny Osgood and Will Pierce. They had discovered that as far as accuracy was concerned it was better to shoot from further away without wearing a mask than it was to shoot from right up close with the mask on.
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