W.O.R.M.S. (On the Run Book 1)

by J. J. Alston

  He sighed, shaking his head. He already knew the rest, but he’d let her get it out. When she was done with her spiel, he’d leave. "Let me guess, Bradley has the cure to this—this epidemic."

  "He thinks he's onto something, at least the last time I heard from him. That was three weeks ago. I have his last known location. You know Bradley. It's not like him to disappear." She nibbled on her thumbnail, her gaze going out of focus as she thought.

  Jeff nodded. It was true. His ex-best friend was punctual to the millisecond. And yet, the pain between them was too strong. "I wish I could do something. He'll show up."

  Jeff walked toward the door, but Victoria’s next words froze him.

  "Your daughter," she said.

  He waited for her to continue, to say what he knew she was going to say, but when she didn’t, he had to ask.

  "What about her?"

  "Natalia has WORMS."

  4

  With the wind storm approaching, there was no way Victoria's pilot could get them to their destination in Costa Rica fast enough.

  Jeff knew a pilot crazy enough to get them there no matter what the weather...for the right price.

  They were gassed up and ready to go when the jet's engines shut down. "Sam, what's going on? Let's get going," said Jeff, yelling from his seat.

  "We've got a problem," said Sam, sounding nervous. He lifted the hem of his t-shirt to wipe sweat from his face, leaving a large wet patch behind.

  Victoria politely turned away while he did so, otherwise she’d have gotten a view of serious man-boob. Jeff, regretfully, hadn’t turned away in time.

  "What kind 0f prob—?" but Jeff's words were cut short when the hatch door opened and two men in black pointed their rifles at him.

  "Oh, my—" said Victoria, squeezing Jeff's hand. He thrilled at the feel of her soft hand in his, and desperately wished everything could be different, especially the circumstances.

  Her heavy breathing combined with a low, v-cut blouse would be his undoing. His reaction to her—still so powerful after so many years apart—scared him more than the pair of armed men.

  A man with silver hair parted the two sharpshooters, taking off his sunglasses and greeting Jeff and Victoria with a smile. "Well, good morning," he said. "That wind really does have some kick to it."

  "Who are you and what do you want?" asked Jeff, ready to fight them off if need be to protect Victoria.

  "Brevity. That's what I like about you, Jeff, and it's no wonder you and Victoria get along so well." He pulled a soft cloth from his vest pocket and polished his shades with it.

  "I'll show you brevity in a second," said Jeff, curling his fist, about to punch him out until the men cocked their guns in his face.

  "Professor Peters. Forgive me for not introducing myself. Here's the thing.” He put away the cloth and his glasses, leveling an icy blue gaze at Jeff. Despite his overly friendly disposition, the venom in his eyes betrayed this man’s lethal intentions. “You're about to meet up with your friend Bradley, where you can secure the cure to the WORMS disease."

  "And?" said Victoria, still holding Jeff’s hand but glaring with plenty of threat in her own gaze. God, how he loved that about her.

  "Well, my dear Victoria, we can't let you do that. See, my clients have an invested interest in this disease and if there's a cure, then there's no disease.” He spread his hands and raised his eyebrows to accentuate his point. “No disease and their interests in the medical industry, insurance and other investments, are at risk. You see my predicament, yes?" Peters sat on the edge of the chopper and neatly folded his hands in his lap.

  "You'll let millions of people die just so you can make a profit?" Victoria was squeezing Jeff’s hand now in a way that was almost painful. Her face grew darker by the second. He’d never seen her so furious.

  "Think of it as population control. Anyway, we're going to take a little trip and—"

  "Like hell we are," said Jeff, who lept up and over the seats, kicking one sniper in the throat and knocking the other one out by dislocating his knee and snapping his neck.

  "Come on!" said Jeff, grabbing Victoria and twisting her out of the way as he grabbed the Professor’s gun and shot him in the thigh.

  Pointing the .357 at Dr. Peters, Jeff said, "Out."

  And with that, he power kicked the man out the hatch, slammed it, and said, "Sam, get this craft up in the air."

  "Yes, sir," said Sam, revving up the engines.

  5

  Costa Rica

  They could hardly see through the pouring rain at the private airport, but Jeff covered both their heads with his jacket as they made their way across the tarmac into the parking lot.

  The silhouette of the driver waving them on in the headlights was a sight for sore eyes. After the start they'd gotten on this trip to find Bradley, Jeff welcomed any good news.

  The moment the two of them jumped into the backseat of the Kia, Jeff should have known something was wrong, but he was too disoriented and the warmth of the car after the chilling rain put him right at ease.

  "Thank God you're here," said Victoria, catching her breath as she slammed the door shut. "Mario said you were the best in the country." She looked around for something to dry off with, but there was nothing in the car except seatbelts and some odd-looking chunks and stains.

  Jeff did his best to ignore what, at a glance, looked like someone’s vomit.

  "Wherever you need to go, I've got it," said the young man with a friendly disposition and thick Costa Rican accent. He put the car in gear and made his way off of the airstrip and onto the road.

  The first dozen miles or so weaving in and out of traffic in the downpour weren’t so bad, but then Jeff sensed that the direction they were heading wasn't right. He hadn’t known Bradley was living in Costa Rica, but he’d made enough trips here to be familiar with the landscape. Victoria had told him where they were going, and Jeff was pretty sure their driver wasn’t taking them where he was supposed to.

  "Hey, I think you missed a turn back there."

  "Oh, did I?" asked the young man, his facial tick just enough in the rear view mirror to tell Jeff he was nervous. About what? It was rainy season in Costa Rica, but it certainly couldn't be about that if he were the professional tour guide he'd led them to believe he was.

  The music muffled the roar of the passing traffic, but Jeff wasn't at ease. "Do you know Bradley well?"

  "Oh, yeah, years. I grew up in Guanacaste; met Jeff through mi limpieza and we became friends ever since."

  "Your limpieza, eh?" Jeff said, raising his eyebrow. He'd spent enough time in Costa Rica to know the authentic words they used in Spanish and limpieza wasn't one of them.

  Ticos said mucama. And the way he pronounced his J's was not like any tico he knew. They didn't roll their R's and they pronounced J's like Americans did.

  Jeff pulled out his nine and racked the slide. "Now, here's the deal," said Jeff, aiming his loaded gun in the driver’s face. "You're going to pull over before I blow your head off."

  "Jeff, what are you doing?" Victoria shrank back against the seat, suddenly afraid of him.

  "He's lying. He's not who he says he is. My guess is the real driver was bumped off."

  And there was something else Jeff had noticed. That ‘vomit’ he spotted earlier wasn’t vomit. "Maybe that's why there's fresh blood and brain matter on the seat."

  "Oh, my God," she said, her eyes widening in fear and reaching for the door knob.

  The driver, whoever he was, pulled over to the side of the road.

  Jeff lowered his tone. "Now, you're going to tell us who you are and who sent you before I—"

  The put-on tico accent disappeared; completely American. "No, Jeff, I don't think so. You see, I'm in charge."

  The driver pulled on a gas mask as fumes seeped out of the air conditioning unit.

  Darkness bled into the edges of Jeff’s vision as the doors opened and hands dragged him out.

  6

  Jeff's
head throbbed as he cracked his eyes open and realized he was tied to a chair, back to back to another chair holding Victoria.

  The rank smell of beer filled his nostrils as he watched his captors cheering the soccer game on TV. The vibrant green paint on the walls was peeling in places, revealing hideous floral wallpaper beneath. No matter where he looked, bright colors made his head ache. He could feel his pulse in his temples. An emergency broadcast signal blared from the TV and the guards booed the interruption. Jeff’s head throbbed with the noise. But at mention of the word WORMS, all four guards settled down and listened.

  “Reports are coming in from around the world. The deadly disease known as WORMS has officially been declared a pandemic by the CDC as at least a hundred cases are confirmed daily, in every country. The disease is resistant to extreme temperatures and is highly contagious. At this time, the CDC has no recommendations for treatment, and is strongly urging all citizens to remain within their homes if at all possible.

  “China and Russia have joined the Americans, French, and Australians’ efforts to find a cure. Several other countries are working independently to do so as well. Stay tuned to your local stations for more information as the situation develops.”

  "You all right?" Jeff asked Victoria, who took a long breath before answering.

  Victoria leaned as close to him as her restraints would allow her, turning her face to the side so she could whisper. "People are desperate for a cure. These guys want it so they can sell it on the black market. I told them we don't have it yet and they called me a liar. I don't think they're going to let us live long if we don't give them something."

  "Drunk and stupid, not a good combination," said Jeff, as he surveyed the room for an exit strategy. "Got any weapons with you?"

  "Right," she said under her breath. "If lipstick counts, and file folders and my syringes."

  "Syringes? Why do you have syringes?"

  “I’m a physician’s assistant. I was at work when I got the call that you’d been captured.”

  "Oh, right.” He thought about it for a few minutes, but came up empty. “I’m not sure I can do anything with any of that. I’m no MacGyver.”

  “I have an idea. If you can get our hands free and get those guards incapacitated, I can take it from there.”

  “Okay, give me three minutes and we'll be out of here.” He raised his voice so the men, totally absorbed in the TV, would hear him. “Hey, you pendejo!" he said, directing his voice at the biggest of seven men.

  The man glared at him, then went back to cleaning his gun.

  "Pendejo con la vicha pequeñito. Venga, estupido."

  "What did you say?" she said.

  Jeff cracked a side-smile. "Nothing I should say in front of a lady."

  It was enough to get the man and two of his friends to approach them. "Hold on to your chair tight."

  Before she could question him, he rose, lifting her chair up and swinging her around where he used her body as a weapon, knocking out the guys, breaking out of the plastic cuffs in one swoop, and kickboxing the the rest in less than a minute.

  She scrambled over to her bag before they could come to, and grabbed her syringes. Victoria stabbed each of them in the leg, waking them up. "Listen up. Now here's the deal. You're going to let us go and leave us alone because if you don't, there will be no cure for the WORMS I just injected you with."

  The men turned pale and their jaws dropped. "Good. Glad we have an understanding. Thirsty, Jeff? Beer?"

  "No, I ..." he was just as dumbfounded as the men were.

  Jeff shook off his stupor and grabbed her by the hand, leading led her out.

  7

  He was dead.

  At first, Jeff and Victoria didn't want to believe it. They'd had a vague idea of where Bradley was from his last message to Victoria, but with the help of the locals, they'd finally pieced together where the "crazy white gringo" had lived temporarily.

  And now this. His accommodations featured a sofa bed opposite a small fireplace, a kitchenette, and a toilet behind a curtain. It looked more like a shabby hotel suite than a house, but it was clean. Pristine, even as simple and small as it was. The only decor in the entire room was a group of bold, black paint strokes on the wall opposite the entry. They almost looked like letters, but backwards.

  Other than the sparse furnishings and a few kitchen essentials, the place was empty. Jeff felt that emptiness deep down in his soul.

  Bradley was dead.

  They'd come all this way—with millions of lives at risk and he was gone.

  Jeff didn't have time for the regrets; the words last said, the opportunity he'd lost to say goodbye, to say to his best friend, Please forgive me.

  Even though he knew he needed to be strong for Victoria, who was devastated, he couldn’t help but feel lost.

  The locals told them that Bradley had kept to himself, but had been infected by the virus and quarantined himself to protect the villagers instead of calling for help.

  As he pulled Victoria closer, both looking at the man's tombstone, they reminisced about his passion and obsession to change the world.

  He'd died before he could make an impact. The most important one of all.

  Gone was any chance to help the local people who had started to contract the disease. Gone was the chance to save the planet from the all-consuming pandemic.

  And gone was the chance for Jeff to save his daughter.

  They'd come all this way for nothing, and yet something kept gnawing at Jeff's mind.

  He couldn't give up.

  Not yet.

  As they sat together next to the fireplace, staring into it, they filled the silence and sadness with laughter.

  They spoke of old times, how young foolish they were before they had their falling out. How in love they’d been. The warmth of the fireplace filled him with a sort of peace. Such peaceful moments never lasted long.

  Victoria blurted out a confession that seized his heart.

  Jeff sat up so fast, her head almost fell on the hardwood floor. "Did you just say that you injected my daughter?"

  "With WORMS," she said, rising from the floor to sit on the sofa. Jeff could tell she was fighting tears. She was swallowing hard. "It was the only way to guarantee you'd help me. If you were personally affected— “

  He pulled out his gun, chambered a bullet, and aimed it at her face. She was supposed to be his friend, an ally. He loved her. His hand shook, though whether his effort was to keep from shooting her or to do it, he couldn’t tell.

  She swallowed hard, closing her eyes. "Do it. I deserve it."

  He took a deep breath and let the calm wash over him. As he let it out, he lowered the gun. Jeff slid the clip out of his nine and racked the slide to eject the bullet chambered therein, returning it to the clip then the clip to the gun. In the end, it had taken everything in him not to blow her brains out. But if he truly wanted her to suffer for what she’d done, there was a better way to accomplish that.

  "You don't deserve the mercy. No, you're going to live with the guilt if we don't find the cure. If my daughter dies, her death is your fault. I want you to live with that."

  Tears streamed down her face.

  He walked away, turning his back to Victoria.

  Jeff saw something in the mirror hanging in the entry. The painted shapes on the wall behind him had formed words. They were letters written in reverse! The message read: In the mangoes.

  A small smile formed on Jeff's face as they searched the mango tree and found one that looked different.

  It was plastic, of course, and inside it there was a USB drive. He plugged it into his phone with an adaptor and the image of Bradley appeared on screen. His hair looked like it hadn’t been cut in the ten years since Jeff had seen him, and it didn’t look like he’d shaved either. Or showered.

  Victoria gasped, her hand covering her mouth. "Bradley. Turn it up!"

  Jeff's finger slid up the phone as his best friend's voice rose. He resisted the happ
y tears of seeing his friend in action. "By now, you and Victoria have figured out that I hid the cure from the forces after it. I'm hoping you two are both alive, because it's going to take both of you."

  Jeff and Victoria's jaws dropped as they listened to Bradley's next words. The cure would take the DNA from the bone marrow of both of them, along with a vile of Bradley’s which he’d thoughtfully left behind.

  The pieces of the puzzle fit together. If Bradley was right, then all of this did start at the hospital where they were born. Jeff had always wondered why they had survived when all the others born during that same week hadn’t. Nothing made sense, so he chalked it up to coincidence. He should have known better. There were too many deaths to be coincidence. The three of them survived for a reason.

  They needed each other if they were going to be able to cure the world—cure his daughter—and make Bradley's death meaningful.

  The procedure was excruciating. Tools were limited to what she had with her, but Victoria had managed to conjure up an operating table. There was a clinic in the village and, thankfully, they hadn’t asked too many questions.

  The operating room was small but sterile, suitable for their purposes.