The Serophim Breach (The Serophim Breach Series)

by Tracy Serpa

  “How long has he been like that?” she asked quietly.

  “He shut down a few seconds after we put the call out,” the orderly holding the door replied. “Went quiet, and just stopped, like something clicked in his brain.”

  She moved a little closer to the window, peering in at the silent figure, and saw tears running down Brandon’s cheeks. Laying a hand on the orderly’s arm, she said, “Crack the door for me.” He hesitated until she looked at him and repeated the order in a stronger voice. Then he stood up straight, taking his weight off the handle, and let the door crack open. Karen waited for any reaction, but Brandon remained still.

  Gathering her courage, she called out, “Brandon?” His shoulder might have twitched, but she thought it also might have been her eyes playing tricks on her. She motioned for the orderly to open the door and grabbed the sedative-filled syringe from the nurse behind her. Slowly, the door opened in front of her, and still Brandon did not move. The stench of excrement set her back on her heels for a moment before she managed to step inside.

  She was less than ten feet from him, mind working furiously, trying to decide if she should speak again in order not to startle him by her approach, or stay quiet and hope he stayed in whatever state he was in. She felt the presence of the large male orderly behind her, following her into the room, and took some comfort from the knowledge that he and several other staff members were there to help. Finally, she was only a foot or two away from Brandon. He had not moved an inch from the first moment she had seen him. As she pulled the cap off the syringe, she said quietly, “Brandon, I’m going to give you a sedative.”

  Behind her, the orderly hissed, “Let me restrain him first.” She stopped, letting him pass her cautiously and circle around behind Brandon. Gingerly, he dragged the young man back over the gurney, making small sounds of disgust at the stink. He hoisted Brandon up, strapped his wrists and feet down, then stepped away, letting out a huge lungful of air.

  With a grateful look, Karen stepped forward and slid the needle into the spidery blue vein in Brandon’s arm. Then she asked for a swab. She knew she would have to get a saliva sample to Thad immediately, as well as one from the girl, so they could check for evidence of the contagion. After replacing her gloves, she gently opened Brandon’s mouth and swabbed his cheek several times, handing each sealed sample to the orderly.

  The cleaning crew arrived, and the first pungent wafts of disinfectant swirled into the air. Karen asked the orderly to run the samples to the lab, with a message that she would follow shortly. As the hospital employees began to trickle away from the door, Karen waited to be sure that the sedative worked as well with Brandon as it had with the girl. All around her the sounds of the hospital’s working returned to normal, although the feeling of tension remained in the air. She caught snatches of conversation as people passed the open door, all relating to what had happened in the room where she stood. The phones rang, the PA system called doctors to wards and nurses to stations, and the monitors beeped in their steady rhythms. Suddenly a thought struck her, and without thinking, she stuck her hand out and placed it on Brandon’s chest. From beneath his ribs, his heart beat steadily against her palm. A strange relief washed over her. It did nothing to explain what had happened with the mugging victim, but she was glad to know that Brandon was alive. Really alive.

  Just then his body seized, back arching, lifting her palm that still lay on his chest as every muscle tightened, and a thin wail came from the back of his throat. She stepped back, shocked, but recovered quickly and slammed her fist into the blue button next to his bed, calling for assistance. His pulse shot up to almost two hundred beats per second, and he choked up a thin gruel that dribbled down his chin.

  Two nurses ran in, and she began shouting orders. “Respiration is almost stopped; there may be something blocking the airway. Pulse is nearly 200 BPM. He’s going into shock,” she called out rapid fire. Karen started to call for an IV, but remembered the blisters. The hiccup in her well-practiced routine made her pause and consider her options; she was uncomfortable with not knowing what to do. After a few brief seconds, her decision was made for her when the heart-rate monitor flatlined, and Brandon’s body slumped back to the gurney.

  “Paddles, now!” she shouted. Almost instantly she heard the high whine of the defibrillator charging. Yanking the gown down to uncover his chest, she reached for the paddles and cried, “Clear!” With a thump, the electric charge contracted every muscle again, Brandon’s body contorting grotesquely on the gurney. She looked up at the monitor briefly, watching as the peak from the shock slid off the screen, leaving behind it a flat green line.

  “Again!” she commanded. The defibrillator charged again, and she slammed the paddles to his chest yelling, “Clear!” This time, the peak was followed by a few irregular blips, and then Brandon’s heart began to beat again. He gasped for breath and tried to pull his limbs into his chest, whimpering. After a brief struggle with the restraints, he gave up and went limp, his ragged breaths coming more consistently now. While the nurses exhaled in relief and began prepping an IV, Karen gently placed two fingers on his wrist and a hand on his chest. The pulsing veins beat in time with the heart under her hand.

  ~

  They were ten miles outside of Pearl City when they saw the first floodlights. Kai, in the driver’s seat of the truck, squinted through the windshield, while his brother and Jones continued their detailed explanation of what had gone on at the beach. He reached forward and turned off the radio, which had been looping the same emergency broadcast on all stations since they left the house. Paul and Jones fell silent when they saw the wash of light on the freeway ahead.

  As they got closer, military Humvees came into view, forming a barrier across all lanes. Two makeshift guard stations were being set up using sandbags, with two armed Marines standing behind each crude semicircular structure. Others continued hauling the sandbags out of their vehicles and over to the stations, with their weapons slung across their backs. A dozen cars were waiting in two lines to pull forward and get instructions from the guards. Kai pulled the truck in at the end of one line and watched as the driver of the sedan at the front showed a Marine his driver’s license. The young man standing guard leaned forward to examine the license, said a few brief words to the driver, and then waved him through the roadblock. Flashlights flicked on near the parked Humvees, and unseen Marines directed the sedan through and on to Pearl City.

  “Seems like a stupid time for a sobriety checkpoint,” Jones remarked from the backseat. Neither Kai nor Paul reacted, and after a brief chuckle at his joke, Jones was quiet.

  “Looks like they’re letting people through,” Paul said with a question in his voice.

  Kai continued to watch the front of the line. The next three cars were turned aside, made to cross the grass divider and merge onto the freeway heading back to the valley. On the opposite side of the freeway, the traffic was slightly heavier but moving slowly; it looked as though more people wanted out of the city than in. Finally Kai pulled the truck up to the guard station, where the stony-faced Marine asked to see his license. Pulling it out, Kai asked what the checkpoint was for.

  After a long look at the ID card, the Marine turned his eyes back to Kai and responded sharply, “Pearl City and the surrounding areas are open to residents only. I’m going to have to ask you to turn back and go directly to your home. Please turn on your radio for further instructions from the emergency broadcast.” He fell silent and waved his hand toward the divider.

  “But my sister’s in Pearl City,” Paul said loudly. “We have to get her.”

  The Marine shook his head. “I’m sorry, sir; we are under strict orders: residents only. There have been reports of looting and riots breaking out due to the power outage, and local law enforcement is already stretched thin.” He stopped and looked back at the trio in the truck, his face softening slightly. Lowering his voice, he broke his harsh tone, saying, “Look, most people who live there don’t even want t
o go in that direction. I’d advise you to return to your home and dig in for a while.”

  Kai had been listening quietly, watching the Marine’s face. He glanced down briefly at the patch sewn onto the young man’s cammies, then back up. In a hesitant voice, he said, “Limb?” The Marine responded to the sound of his last name, turning back to Kai.

  “Yeah?”

  “Holy shit, dude, I didn’t know you joined up!” Kai exclaimed. In the passenger seat, Paul frowned at his brother’s unusually friendly tone, but kept quiet.

  “Yeah, been in for a while,” Limb replied. He held a hand up to shield his eyes from the glare of the floodlights, trying to place Kai’s face.

  “It’s Kavida, dude!” Kai said, putting a hand to his chest. Limb’s expression remained unsure. “Shortstop?” Kai offered.

  A look of recognition dawned on the other man’s face, and he broke into a smile, saying, “Holy shit, bro. Good to see you! I thought you were long gone.”

  Behind them, another car honked its horn insistently, and the other guard gave them a “hurry up” glance. Putting the stony glare back on, Limb said in a hushed voice, “Listen, Kavida, I can’t let you through. Okay? I’m sorry about your sister, but I’ve got orders, and I’ll be in deep shit. Just tell her to hunker down and stay inside.”

  Shaking his head, Kai said, “Can’t. Phone service is down.”

  After smothering a brief look of surprise, Limb asked quickly, “Where was she? Do you know?”

  “They were heading to the police station. Some lunatic broke into the house and attacked her. Killed her best friend,” Kai replied, trying to keep his voice even.

  “And a whole pack of crazies infected our friends up at Moana Cove,” Jones broke in. Kai gave him a hard glare in the mirror; the entire drive in, Jones had been arguing that some kind of undiscovered virus had been unleashed on the island. He tried to ignore Kai’s look by scooting back in his seat and shutting his mouth.

  Limb was quiet for a moment, looking at the three of them. Then he said, “Pull off into the divider. I’ll be right over.”

  Kai drove the truck around the back of the nearest Humvee and parked on the slope of the hill that banked to a shallow valley between the two sides of the freeway. The blaring floodlights, focused on the road, cast a hazy white light over the outlying area. When they saw Limb and another Marine approaching, Kai hopped out of the truck.

  “Stay here,” he directed Paul and Jones.

  Limb walked up and introduced Sergeant Winwright, who looked to be in his late twenties. He was tall and lanky, with his blond hair buzzed so short it looked almost translucent in the wash of the floodlights.

  “Limb tells me you’ve had an encounter I should hear about,” he said stoically.

  Kai glanced briefly at the younger Marine, and then responded, “Yes, sir, we have.” He repeated the story he had heard from Paul and Jones as quickly as he could, and then related their experiences at the farm.

  “Did you kill him?” Winwright asked immediately.

  Trying not to swallow hard, Kai shrugged and said, “I don’t know. We left before I could check.”

  Winwright took a deep breath and stared over Kai’s head for a long moment. They waited as he deliberated.

  “You said your sister was heading to the Pearl City police station?” he asked suddenly. Kai nodded, hopeful. Winwright continued, “We’ll do our best to get in touch with someone there and see if they can’t bring her back to you. Thank you for the information as well. I’ll pass it up the chain.”

  They were all quiet for a moment. At the checkpoint, someone was complaining loudly that he needed to get to Honolulu for a flight home. Finally, Kai spoke up. “So that’s it?”

  Winwright gave him a curt nod and replied, “I’m afraid I can’t let you through. Orders just came down to close off access to the city completely. Not even residents are allowed through at this point. Another unit is heading out to cordon off the northbound side as well.”

  Trying to keep his simmering frustration in check, Kai looked to Limb, who was conveniently watching the action at the roadblock.

  “And how am I supposed to know if you guys manage to get ahold of her?” he asked sharply. “None of our phones work.”

  “If you return to your home—”

  “There’s a lunatic and a dead body at my home!” Kai growled.

  After a brief pause, Winwright said, “Corporal, give him directions to their local evacuation center. If we locate your sister, I’ll have her sent there as well.” With that, he turned on his heel and headed back for the roadblock. He was only a few steps away when the angry tourist in a rented van slammed his gas pedal to the floorboard and tried to maneuver through the Humvees. He crashed almost immediately, sending the checkpoint into an uproar. Winwright was striding away, shouting orders into the chaos. For a moment it looked as though Limb would follow, but he turned suddenly and stepped close to Kai.

  “Listen, I don’t know everything that’s going on, but if you’ve got a safe place to go, get there. I heard talk about some kind of biological attack, spreading fast. We’ve even got our chemsuits on hand. I wouldn’t go in to Pearl if I were you, but you look like you don’t buy one ounce of that shit, so I’ll say if you keep your headlights off and hug the northbound side, you’ll get around this pretty quick.” Then he turned and jogged away toward the escalating struggle.

  As soon as he disappeared into the fray, Kai pivoted and ran for the truck. Jumping into the driver’s seat, he turned the key with one hand and struggled with the seat belt with his other. The engine roared to life, and he slammed the truck into drive, taking off down the divider with Paul and Jones yelling for him to turn the lights on and shouting curses at every bump or divot.

  As the floodlights faded in his rearview mirror, he finally swung back onto the freeway and shouted over the others, “Look, they weren’t going to let us through! They wanted us to go to some evacuation center and hope they got in touch with Sarah. To hell with that. I told her we’re coming to get her.” With that, he flicked the lights on and sped down the freeway toward the dark city.

  “What’d they say?” Jones pressed after a few miles.

  “I don’t know. They were saying that no one is allowed into Pearl City and that they’re evacuating everyone. Limb mentioned that there’s talk about some kind of attack, but I don’t know. You’d think things would be . . . different, if that had happened.” Kai frowned, considering his own statement. He wasn’t sure what he thought should be going on if there were a terrorist attack on the island, but he knew it wasn’t this. While he tried to envision what a proper response would look like, another thought slowly drifted to the front of his mind.

  “You know what’s strange?” he continued. Jones looked at him in the rearview mirror. “I brought up that guy,” Kai said, pausing. “The guy at the house. And the guy in charge asked me if . . . if he was dead. He asked if I had killed him.”

  “What’d you tell him?” Paul asked intently.

  “That I wasn’t sure. And then that was it. The guy didn’t say another word about it.”

  Paul mulled over the new information quietly until Jones said, “So?”

  “So, a military official didn’t bat an eye when I told him we found someone murdered—and probably killed the lunatic who did it. Shouldn’t I be talking to the police right now?”

  No one answered as they continued on toward the darkened city.

  Fourteen

  When Gary woke up, he was still running. The heavy blackness of the dream was replaced by the red glow of light through his eyelids. He tried to stop his legs pumping, grasping at a feeling in the back of his mind that something was wrong. He remembered his feet slapping against the cold ground in what had been his dream, a kind of dampness in the air, condensation building on his chest and arms as he ran. Now, although his legs and feet moved in long strides, there was no surface beneath them. The air was dry and close around him.

  He tried
opening his eyes and felt an uncomfortable tugging on his upper lids and cheeks. As he worked to clear his mind, emerging slowly from the confused haze of sleep, he lifted a hand to his face and tried to clear away whatever held his eyes shut. Running his fingers over his cheek, he found the edge of a piece of tape, which ran from his cheek to just below his eyebrow. Peeling it off slowly, his right eye opened gingerly, and the red glow was replaced by a white glare. He winced against the light as he peeled the other strip of tape away.

  Once his eyes adjusted, he saw that he was not running. He lay naked in some sort of glowing tube, which he realized with a twinge of horror looked distinctly like the inside of a coffin. He was covered in . . . he struggled for the word. Electrodes? Something in his mind agreed, and he looked again with a detached sense of confusion at his body. Beneath the skin, his leg muscles twitched in rhythm. If he closed his eyes, he quickly fell again into the feeling of running, although he found he could not ignore the pressure of his back against the gelatinous material that lined the interior of his tube.

  A question bubbled up through his struggling mind. “What’s going on?” he wondered. He closed his eyes to think and was interrupted by the quieting of his leg muscles and the instantaneous sensation that he was lifting . . . something, from the ground to his chest. He opened his eyes again to glance at his arms that lay at his sides, the muscles beneath them flexing in another sort of rhythm. As his eyes adjusted to the hazy light, he saw that the skin on his arms looked as though he had tried to use sandpaper as a washcloth. It was mostly covered in tiny scabs, some still damp with blood.