by Wilde, J. M.
“Okay, ready?” Wyatt asked, and we all nodded. “Lift!”
Using all my strength, I lifted the branch, but it was too heavy for my fatigued arms. The wood slipped out of my hands, causing Wyatt, Ben and Jo to stumble in the mud before swiftly regaining their footing. I stood on the bridge and watched as they carried the branch out of the way, not noticing the water sweeping around my ankles. I mentally scanned my body, taking note of anything that felt abnormal. I clearly had a fever, a migraine and nausea, and I was beginning to feel incredibly hungry. I felt dizzy again as the events of that day came rushing through my head. My memory of the whole violent scene was hazy, but I remembered the bullet that went through my shoulder was the same one that had killed Elliot.
“Elliot was infected,” I said to myself. “His blood was on the bullet. And now it’s in me.”
“Eva, are you okay?” Wyatt asked, holding a hand over his eyes to shield them from the pouring rain.
“How could we not realize?” I asked.
“Realize what?” he asked as he walked towards me, but I stepped back. “What’s wrong?” He reached a hand out and touched my arm, but I flinched and moved back again.
“Don’t touch me!” I screamed. A sudden surge of fury raged through me, taking me by surprise.
“Eva, calm down!” Jo said. “C’mon, let’s get inside. You’ll feel better once we get out of this storm.”
“No,” I said. “I won’t. I won’t feel better.”
“What the hell is going on?” Ben asked.
“I’m infected!” I screamed, finally admitting it to the others and myself.
“Eva, you’re not infected. We’ve been over this,” Wyatt said. “You weren’t bitten; you were shot.”
“Exactly!” I said. “I was shot by a bullet that had just burst through Elliot. And Elliot was infected.”
They all froze, suddenly understanding what was happening.
“No,” Wyatt said quietly. “That can’t be—”
“It is,” I said. “It’s happening. I can feel it. I’ve got a fever, I feel sick and starving at the same time, and I have a migraine that is driving me insane.”
The water continued to rise over the bridge, but no-one moved. The shock was too much.
“But it’s been almost twelve hours since you were shot,” Jo said. “If you were really infected, you’d have turned hours ago.”
“Not necessarily,” Ben said. “It was only a small trace of his blood. It’d take much longer to go through her system. But now that the symptoms have emerged, who knows how quickly it will progress.”
“I don’t want to turn,” I said. “I have to die.”
“Are you kidding me?” Wyatt said. “You’re not dying!”
“I have to!” I protested angrily.
“We can figure something out,” Jo pleaded. “Let’s just get back in the RV and go. We’ll find another way ...” It looked like she was crying, but with all the rain I couldn’t be sure.
“There isn’t another way,” I said. “I don’t want to do this, either. But we don’t have a choice.”
“I’ll do it,” Ben said. “I took Elliot’s gun, it’s in the RV. It’ll be the quickest way.”
“Get it,” I said, and Ben ran to the RV. I stood tall, doing my best to act tough, but I was petrified. I could hear Hunter in the RV, barking at the thunder claps as the storm rolled by.
“Eva, please,” Jo said, her bottom lip trembling as she tried to hold herself together.
“I don’t want to die,” I said, looking back and forth at her and Wyatt. “Knowing I only have a few seconds left to live is devastating.” My words caught in my throat as I choked up. “But the only thing that terrifies me more than dying is the thought of becoming one of those ... things.” I took in a deep breath, trying to prepare myself for the end. “I refuse to become a monster.” My mind felt as tumultuous and chaotic as the raging waters at my feet. Minutes earlier I was sleeping soundly, surrounded by my only friends in the world, headed to our salvation. And suddenly there I was, standing in front of the people I loved, saying my final goodbye.
Ben stepped out of the RV with the gun in his hand and started walking towards me.
“No!” Wyatt said as he pushed him. “We’re not doing this!”
“We don’t have a choice!” Ben yelled, pushing him back. “It’s her or us.”
Wyatt kicked the wooden barrier of the bridge in anger, cracking one of the posts. “But we’re so close!” he yelled, clenching his fists in frustration. “This time tomorrow we’ll be in Sydney, and in a few days we’ll be saved. This will all be over.”
“For you, yes,” I said. “It will be. But for me, it’s already over. It was over the moment that bullet hit me.”
Wyatt shook his head in denial, but the pain in his eyes told me he knew I was right.
“Ben,” I said. “Hand me the gun. I want to do it myself.”
“Are you sure?” he asked.
“Yes. I don’t want any of you to have to live with that burden. It has to be me.”
Ben held the gun out, and I took it with shaking hands. It felt heavy and slippery from the rain, and just holding it gave me a feeling of dread.
Jo couldn’t hold it in anymore, and she burst into tears. She draped herself over me, holding me tight.
“Thank you for being like a sister to me, Jo,” I said, unable to stop the tears from rolling down my cheeks. “Your friendship is what got me this far. I love you more than anything.”
“I love you,” she said. “So much.”
Jo stepped back, covering her mouth with her hands as she sobbed. I looked at Wyatt, the despair on his face too much to bear. It felt so cruel to have to say goodbye to him when only a few hours earlier I was telling him I loved him for the first time.
He started walking over to me when thunder cracked loudly over us, making me jump. A strong whooshing sound followed, and I turned my head to see a rush of water hurtling towards the bridge. Before I could tell the others to run, the wave hit us hard, knocking us all off our feet. The gun slipped out of my hand as I struggled to find something to hold on to.
“Eva!” Jo called as she held out her hand. I took hold of it, trying to keep my head above the water. She was holding on to the side of the bridge, but it was breaking from where Wyatt had kicked it. It couldn’t hold our weight for very long. Wyatt and Ben scrambled to their feet and started helping Jo pull me in, but I knew it was futile. There was no point in them risking their lives to save me—I was doomed no matter what.
I looked up at Jo with sadness in my eyes, and she knew what I was thinking. She shook her head, but I knew what I had to do.
I took one last look at the people who had become my family, grateful that they had been by my side throughout such turmoil. I used my last second above the water to do something I’d never done until our nightmare started all those days ago: pray. I prayed for their safety, I asked God to help them get to Sydney, to help them survive.
And then I let go.
The last thing I saw was their distraught faces as they watched me get swept away.
I let the water take me under, and hoped it would be over quickly.
Chapter Two
“Eva,” my mother said softly. “Breathe.”
I couldn’t see her, but I could hear her. I could feel her presence.
“Wake up, Eva,” my father said. “You can get through this.”
I wanted to call out to them, to open my eyes and see their faces, but I couldn’t. I was too tired.
“Honey, it’s not your time,” Mum said. “You have to save yourself. Save yourself so you can save the others.”
“Just breathe,” Dad said.
Hearing their voices gave me the encouragement I needed, and I forced myself to take one deep breath.
“That’s it, sweetheart,” Mum said, her voice fading. “We’ll be by your side every step of the way. Now, open your eyes.”
My eyes snapped open and I started
gasping for air, panicked and disoriented. I tried to sit up, but I was stuck on something. Lifting my head, I could see I was tied to a bed. As my eyes focused on my surroundings, I tried to remember where I was and how I got there, but nothing came.
Everything around me was white. The ceiling, the walls, the bed, my clothes. All white, crisp, clean and sterile. It was ice cold, I could see my breath emerging from my lips as clouds of mist.
At least one hundred people were tied to beds all around me, separated by clear plastic walls that made the huge tent we were in look like a transparent, immaculate prison. The only people free to walk amongst these invisible cells were dressed in biohazard suits, their faces hidden behind plastic masks and goggles. One of them saw me struggling against the cable ties and came into my glass-like chamber.
“Stay calm,” she said as she touched my shoulder through a thick, elbow-length glove. “You’re safe here.”
Another figure appeared next to her, holding a clipboard.
“Her results are here, Doctor,” a male voice said. “She’s all clear.”
The woman leaned over me, lifting my eyelids and shining something bright at my pupils. Her suit scrunched as she moved and it reeked of chlorine.
“Good,” she said before taking my hand. I wasn’t sure if she was attempting to comfort me or take my pulse, but her touch calmed me. “Miss, how do you feel?”
“Fine,” I said, my voice raspier than I expected. I cleared my throat and repeated my answer. “I’m fine. Where am I?”
“You’re in the Isolation Unit of a military field hospital,” she said. “Members of our team found you on the nearby riverbanks last night. You were barely breathing and have a few cuts and bruises, but you’re okay. You’re a very lucky young woman.”
“Field hospital? Riverbanks?” I repeated, trying to process what she had said.
Concern filled her dark, tired eyes. “Miss, my name is Dr. Priya Desai. Can you tell me your name?”
“Eva.”
“Eva,” she said. “Do you remember how you got into the river?”
I searched my memory, but to no avail. “No.”
Without letting go of my hand, Dr. Desai sat down on a plastic stool next to my bed. “Okay, Eva. You have a mild concussion, which is why you’re having trouble remembering recent events. It’s alright, it’s completely normal to feel disoriented and confused after physical and emotional trauma. Everything should come back to you soon. What is the last thing you remember?”
I closed my eyes in concentration. “I was at work. Then ... Oh god, the outbreak!”
Dr. Desai squeezed my hand. “Stay calm. You’re okay. What else do you remember?”
“We were in the RV,” I said, piecing together flashes of memory. “Going to Cairns.”
“We?” Priya said. “Who were you with?”
I opened my eyes. “Jo, Wyatt and Ben. Are they here?” I looked around, but didn’t recognize anyone.
“I’m afraid you were found alone.”
“Are we in Cairns?” I asked.
“No, we’re in rural New South Wales.” She paused, and I could see she wanted to tell me something, but she was being cautious. “Eva, before I tell you this, I want you to know that you’re alright. You are healthy. But when we found you, you had traces of the Eversio Virus in your blood.”
“The what?” I asked.
“The Eversio Virus, that’s what we have called it. It’s the cause of all this. But you are the first patient we have seen who had the virus without a bite mark. Do you remember how you were infected with it?”
Panic rushed through me as the images of Wyatt and Elliot fighting flashed through my mind.
“The gun went off,” I said as it came back to me. “He ... Elliot, he was infected. The bullet went through him and into me.” I looked down at my shoulder, seeing a fresh bandage wrapped neatly around it.
Priya sighed in relief. “That explains it,” she said. “It was only a trace amount. That’s why it was moving so slowly through your body. Who cleaned your wound?”
“Ben, he’s training to be a paramedic.”
“You really are very lucky, Eva,” Priya said. “Your friend saved your life. If that wound had gone untreated, you would not be here right now.”
“How am I here?” I asked. “How did I survive the virus?”
“Ever since the outbreak, we’ve had a team running tests on the virus, analyzing the cells, watching how it works,” Priya explained. “We have been able to determine many of its properties, and it appears to be a hybrid agent, but we are yet to define its molecular structure entirely. It’s likely a unique combination of the rabies virus and unknown specimens we’ve never seen before. Since then, myself and the other doctors have been experimenting with different methods of treatment. My latest treatment, which I used on you and all the patients in this tent, is the only one to have any kind of success. The moment you arrived, we brought you in here, where we keep it at zero degrees celsius. It appears this virus was designed in a state-of-the-art laboratory specifically for the warm Australian climate. Bizarrely, cold temperatures seem to slow the virus almost to a standstill, whereas heat accelerates it—meaning the symptom of fever actually helps the virus spread ...” she stopped. My confusion must have shown on my face, because she began talking slower. “I gave you a vaccine we have just developed, which attacked the virus before it could enter your nerve cells. It doesn’t kill the entire virus cell, just the properties that we could recognize, but it weakens it enough for the body to fight back. I then gave you an IV of high doses of ascorbic acid, or what you’ll know as vitamin C, to boost your immune system and help your body resist the infection. Lastly, I did a blood transfusion, giving you the donated blood of others who have healed. And I am very pleased to tell you that I’ve just received your blood work and you’re all clear. You’ll be physically tired and weak for the next two or three days while your body recovers, but you’re no longer infected.”
“Wait,” I said, struggling to comprehend it all. “Are you saying you’ve found a cure?”
Dr. Desai shook her head. “It’s not exactly a cure. The vaccine only kills the parts of the virus that we recognize and have antibiotics for, the remaining parts of the cell die as a result of the combination of cold temperatures, ascorbic acid and the body’s own immune system. And it only works if the infection is caught early enough, usually within the first twelve hours—as was yours. We can provide the right treatment to slow the spread of the virus and give you the supportive care your body needs to heal itself. And once the process begins, I have found it heals as quickly as it spreads.”
“Thank you,” I said tearfully. “Thank you for saving my life.”
She squeezed my hand again, and even though I couldn’t see her mouth, I could tell by her eyes that she was smiling.
“Get some rest, Eva,” she said as she stood up. “One of my colleagues will be back in an hour to collect you. You will need to have an antiseptic shower before we move you out of isolation and into the recovery ward.”
I looked around at my fellow patients and wondered how many would be as lucky as I was. I saw many sallow faces that looked inches away from death, and hoped I would be safe if any of them were to turn. I sat up higher to get a better look at the vast, colorless space. Gun-wielding figures in yellow biohazard suits lined the walls, prepared to strike if I or one of the many bed-ridden folk by my side were to succumb to the disease.
A yawn escaped my lips, and a sudden exhaustion overwhelmed me. I rested my head on the hard pillow before quickly falling back into a deep sleep.
Chapter Three
“Follow me,” the man in the biohazard suit said as he led me out of my plastic bubble. Two more people went in after I left and began stripping the sheets and disinfecting the area for the next patient.
“How did all this get set up so quickly?” I asked, looking around the giant white tent.
“We were already here,” he said as he led me into a
narrow, dim hallway. “This is, or rather, was, a top secret medical training facility for biological attacks and epidemic emergencies.”
“Is the Eversio Virus so contagious that all this is necessary?” I asked.
“As far as we’ve seen, the virus is only spread through bodily fluids, mainly blood. But it’s important we take all precautions to prevent any further cases.” He stopped at a set of stairs leading up to a large metal door and gestured for me to go up. “This is the decontamination pod. Once you enter the first room, strip off all your clothes and any other garments or accessories and place them in the trash can provided. Then enter the shower room and clean yourself thoroughly for as long as you need to. Lastly, enter the third room, this is the clean room. There will be a towel and new clothes waiting in there for you. Once you exit the decontamination pod, you’ll join others in the recovery ward where a bed has been made available to you.”
“Okay, thanks,” I said, feeling overwhelmed by the entire process.
“See you on the other side,” he said as I walked up the stairs and pulled on the heavy door.
I entered the small square room, closed the door behind me and began undressing. As I looked down at my naked body, it became clear just how battered I was. In addition to the bullet wound and injuries I received at Elliot’s so-called “sanctuary,” I was covered in cuts and bruises from my tumble in the river. A row of stitches sat above my right eyebrow, the skin around it fading from red to purple and back again. A gash on my bottom lip looked swollen and sore, and my neck still had a bruised hand print around it from when Elliot had me pinned against the wall of his secret bunker. My shoulder looked as bad as it felt; covered in a bandage that was dotted in spots of blood, black and blue around the borders. I looked like a mess and my body ached, but I was alive. That was all that mattered.