“Good.”
Joseph went to work like a sculptor. He carved a centimeter-wide pox off Richard’s shoulder and placed it in a glass tube.
“I am going to draw his blood,” Dr. Weinroth said. She tied a rubber tube around Richard’s arm and pushed a needle into his skin. Joseph massaged around Richard’s neck with his fingers, locating a golf ball-sized node.
“I would like to have one of his nodes as well,” Joseph said. He looked up at Rebecca. She filled vials with Richard’s almost black-red blood. Richard tensed underneath their probing hands and needles.
“I…I…I can feel it,” Richard shouted. Joseph stopped what he was doing.
Richard let out a groan and his neck stretched. The veins bulged along his throat. Dr. Weinroth looked at Joseph, eyebrows creased upward.
“I can feel it inside me, bubbling beneath the surface of my skin. It’s crawling in my veins.” He twisted his head toward Joseph. His restraints dug into the skin of his forehead. For a moment, he let out a low moan. “Ooooo.” His lips then curled into a snarl. “It only wants to get out!” he screamed. His shoulders rocketed against the table. His torso thrust upward as if he were trying to bend in half the wrong way.
Joseph instinctively took a step back, holding the scalpel in the air. Richard writhed on the table in deep affliction.
“You’re going to be okay. I’m going to give you a sedative. It will make you feel less anxious.”
Richard’s body banged back down on the metal table. His hands and feet still moved in their restraints. “That. Would. Be nice,” Richard said, his body relaxing a bit.
“Dr. Weinroth, can you hand me the benzodiazepine dipthopham? Thirty milligrams.”
She stared at him for a moment, eyes wide. “Joseph. That’s three times the recommended dosage for the average adult.”
“I understand that, Rebecca, but this is no normal man.”
She nodded. She picked up a syringe and stuck the tip inside a small vial. She extracted the clear fluid from the bottle and handed the syringe to Joseph. Their hands touched as she handed it off, and her hand lingered for a brief moment. Was that on purpose? She looked back down at her work. My cruel imagination.
He put the syringe into the drip chamber and pressed the fluid inside. Richard blinked rapidly. Joseph held his breath for a moment, and Richard’s eyes closed.
“How are you feeling, Richard?” he said down to him.
“I’m…fine…,” he mumbled.
“That’s better. I would have liked to have spoken with you more, but we will have more time. Perhaps when you’re less agitated.” Joseph gave Rebecca a smile which she returned, her plain pink lips flipping up on the sides.
“I agree. I’m thinking that we should take that lymph node biopsy while he’s sedated,” she said.
“I concur. I’ll prep the large gauge needle for you?”
Patient Zero’s foot twitched. At first, it was a small jerk. Joseph and Rebecca stopped. It swung wide in a rotation like a windshield wiper.
Rebecca stopped her preparation. “Did you see that?” she whispered.
“Uh, yeah. Must be an involuntary muscle spasm.”
Unsureness crossed her features. “I’ve never seen that before with dipthopham.” She continued at a high whisper. “And never with such a high dose.”
“Neither have I,” Joseph uttered. He leaned his face close to Patient Zero. The man’s chest rose and fell at a slow rate. One, two, three, up. One, two, three, down. The heart monitor beeped an even, controlled double beep. Joseph stood upright.
“His breathing is normal—.” Joseph was cut off as Patient Zero started to shake uncontrollably. The metal table rattled beneath him. His body appeared to be in some sort of hypothermic involuntary state. Every single portion of the man vibrated. The heart monitor fired up with a hurricane of mini-heartbeat waves.
“What’s he doing?” Rebecca shouted. Patient Zero’s body convulsed, and stopped. The heart rate monitor toned down as the man’s heartbeat came under control again. The room became quiet save for the monitors beeping. Joseph found himself holding his breath.
“I think that did the trick,” he said. He tried to give her a smile with some swagger behind it. “Shall we continue?”
Rebecca gave him a nervous smile. “Of course.”
Joseph glanced over at the two-way mirror, knowing the other doctors were critiquing his every move.
Joseph’s breath steamed up his mask. He pushed on his clear faceplate with his blue plastic-suited hands. It did nothing but knock beads of condensation down his mask. The only sound in his head was the beating of his heart in his chest. He took a step closer.
“Richard is restrained. We have nothing to fear from him,” he said.
Rebecca nodded fast, but her suit didn’t move.
“Let’s continue,” he managed with more bravery than he felt.
“Okay. Where were we? Ah yes, the lymph node biopsy.” Joseph gave the monitor an uneasy look. The blips were coming too slow. The beeping slowed as Patient Zero’s heart rate dropped.
“Jesus, his heart rate’s crashing,” Joseph said. He reached for Patient Zero’s chest restraints. He undid the straps, throwing them to the sides. “Loosen those restraints. We can’t have anything impeding his blood flow.”
Joseph’s hands fumbled along the wrist straps. Rebecca did as he asked, loosening Richard’s other arm restraints.
“Let’s get some oxygen in him.” Rebecca turned and twisted a knob atop an oxygen tank. She quickly handed the mask to Joseph. He placed it timidly around Patient Zero’s face. He folded his hands and placed them on Patient Zero’s chest and began giving him compressions. Within thirty seconds, the heart rate monitor was back to normal. Joseph leaned back, watching the monitor.
“See. There we go,” he said, breathing hard.
Joseph picked up the biopsy syringe off the ground. No need for a new one. Sterile facility.
He inched the twenty-gauge needle point against the lymph nodes in Richard’s neck that sagged to the side through his skin, too heavy to remain in place. Rebecca bent in and, with her finger and thumb, and forced his eyelid open.
Patient Zero’s eyes glared at her. They darted to Joseph and back to Rebecca in a few blinks.
“Raahhh,” Patient Zero snarled. His mouth worked open and closed. His hand shot from its confines and grabbed Rebecca by her wrist. He twisted and turned beneath the other restraints. Joseph watched in horror.
“Joseph!” she screamed. She bent in his grasp, pulling like a dog fighting in a tug-of-war with hard jerks for her arm back. Patient Zero kicked one leg free and then the other.
“My hand,” she said, frantic.
Patient Zero stood upright.
“Joseph,” she cried. She cowered, his hands wrapped tightly around hers. Alarms blared overhead. The other doctors had seen. Help would be coming soon.
“Let me go,” she cried. Yellow sirens swirled above them. “Joseph,” she mumbled.
“Richard,” Joseph commanded. Richard turned his head to the side, and his whitish eyes judged him for a moment. “Get back on the table.” Richard ignored him and turned back to Rebecca, driving her forward.
“No,” Joseph yelled. He ran around the table and lunged for Richard. He wrapped his skinny arms around Richard’s shoulders. He barely felt his stitches tear as he clasped his hands together.
Richard shoved Rebecca down. He bucked Joseph, but Joseph refused to let go.
“Stop,” Joseph managed to sputter.
Patient Zero backtracked and rammed Joseph into the sterile white padded wall. Joseph’s breath was forced from his chest and he wheezed. Patient Zero spun in a circle like a madman.
Byrnes was donning his HAZMAT suit inside the pressurized chamber. He pointed at a soldier dressing himself. He screamed at the man to hurry. Rebecca pushed herself up the wall near the two-way mirror.
Joseph found himself flying through the air and crashing into the ground. He could
even feel the blood trickling down his arm. Richard lumbered away from him.
“No,” Joseph said. His eyesight was disoriented as though he’d had too many vodka sodas at the bar.
Rebecca made a run for the pressurized door, but her blue HAZMAT suit made her clumsy and she tripped.
Richard leapt onto her body. She rolled on her back, fighting and pushing him in desperation. His hands ripped at the seams of her faceplate. Blood erupted from his fingertips as he clawed her. She screamed.
“Please,” she screamed. Joseph’s arms felt like lead, but he pushed himself off the floor. He wobbled as he found himself upright.
Plastic flew in the air as Patient Zero ripped her faceplate to the side in a cracked mess. Joseph stumbled toward Rebecca, his hand reaching out for her, but he moved slowly as though he were under water.
Patient Zero leaned in close to her face, and she let out a bloodcurdling cry. Patient Zero’s head jerked back, Rebecca’s flesh in his mouth. Blood dribbled down his lips. His jaw worked as he chewed.
The pressurized doors whisked open and a scowling Byrnes stepped through with two soldiers armed with tasers and long batons. The colonel ran forward and struck Patient Zero in the face with his baton. Patient Zero flipped onto his side, sprawling across the floor. He convulsed, his limbs stretching in painful strained positions. One of the soldiers used his baton to pin Patient Zero and he writhed against the constraint. Joseph raced for Rebecca and wrapped an arm around her with the help of Byrnes. They dragged her over the floor into the pressurized chamber.
They set her down and the doors rolled closed behind them. Rebecca’s hand covered her cheek. Blood seeped between her fingers. Pressurized air hissed as it was driven inside the chamber. Ghostly white air fogged inside enveloping them.
Joseph got close to her face, holding her. “Are you okay?” Joseph shouted.
She nodded, tears streaming down her face.
Byrnes pounded on the door. “Open this thing up. We don’t have time for decontamination.” Batons flailed inside the other room, the faint zap of tasers reaching their ears. Patient Zero’s screams sounded like the old Richard Thompson, but Joseph’s only focus was on Rebecca.
Rebecca’s eyes read Joseph’s, blinking her pain back. Her eyes were wide like those of a scared doe behind her bent glasses. Watery tears engulfed them and fear surrounded them.
No, not her.
Byrnes reached past Joseph and gripped her face with hard fingers. “Let me see your face,” he commanded. Her hand shook as she removed it from her cheek. A blood-filled crater defiled her.
Byrnes mouth downturned into a fierce snarl. He held his baton with two hands and shoved her into the corner.
She held up a hand in defense, covering her head. “Please,” she cried.
Joseph’s heart dropped because he already knew.
“She’s infected,” Byrnes hissed.
STEELE
Little Sable Point, MI
Gwen’s eyes were distrusting; and their color had changed to a drab mossy green. Single blades of blonde hair hung down around her face, outlining her high cheekbones.
“Why are only you two going to look for him?”
Steele removed boxes of ammo from his pack and set them on the ground. “I don’t know. She asked and I said yes.”
“Why’d you say yes?” Gwen asked.
He continued to replace the ammo with MREs from Gwen’s pack. “Must I ask your permission to search for my mother and Pagan?”
“When you go somewhere without me, yes. Were you even listening when we talked yesterday?” Her eyes set in a steadfast position, unmoving and unwavering.
“Of course I was.” Listening to the parts I wanted to hear. He met her eyes and clenched his jaw tight, causing the top of his skull to ache. Is it the gunshot wound that makes my skull ache or the continuous clenching of my jaw brought on by her everlasting woman’s tongue?
He shook a box of ammo at her. “Make sure to hide these, and make sure your pack stays with you at all times. These people have been kind, but they are a very loose confederation. They come and go, and I wouldn’t put it past any of them to snatch up one of the packs if left unattended.”
“We’ll keep them nearby, but why did you say ‘yes’ to her?”
Steele stopped packing. “My mother is still out there. At least I think she is.” He gestured behind him. “Pagan went on a limb for us, and I have a responsibility to bring them both back.” He stood up and pointed the weapon angled safely upward. He twisted the carbine and grabbed the changing handle with his left hand, pulling it back to view in the ejection port. A brass round rested inside.
“What about all those biker guys? Can’t they help?”
“I don’t know. I’m not in charge.” He released his magazine from the carbine and looked inside. With a rectangle to rectangle alignment, he seated the magazine back inside the gun. “I will be back, one way or another.”
Gwen didn’t laugh. Her face gave away that she wasn’t amused by his morbid humor. He bent down face level with her and kissed her cheek. He pulled himself upright and shouldered his pack. It was better to have cold goodbyes. If he lingered long enough, he might never leave. He walked the short distance to the entrance of Little Sable Point.
“You can’t keep doing this,” she yelled after him.
“I’m building our world,” he growled back at her over his shoulder.
The ring of vehicles sat parked around the lighthouse. Inside the ring, tents were set up in a haphazard manner. Trash littered the ground. People that were there yesterday were gone today. Others idled in front of campers and cars in lounge chairs watching the others come and go. Some grilled. It didn’t look like much. Fish? Steele couldn’t tell what they were grilling, but it stunk like campfire smoke.
Tess awaited him at the entrance, her shorter black hair combed straight back so it ran down the back of her skull. She wore a shoulder harness that held a 1911 and extra mags over a tight-fitting black thermal and black hiking pants. A small pack hung off her back.
“You have a big pack there,” she said with a smile as he drew near. He chose to ignore her quip.
“Can’t be unprepared. Don’t know how long we’ll be out there.”
“You’re right, but I don’t suspect long. That idiot Pagan will wish he was dead when we find him.”
Steele nodded. “What are we driving?”
“I would take a motorcycle, but if there are wounded, those are useless. So we’ll have to settle on one of the gas guzzlers.” She slapped the metal side of a boxy red 1980s era Ford Ranger pickup.
“That’s a gas guzzler?”
“Anything that ain’t a motorcycle.” She tossed her small pack in the pickup bed. “We won’t be hauling a ton of rocks in this thing, but it does well enough on gas, and we could lay multiple injured in the back if need be.”
Steele nodded. “Or shooters. Good choice.” He tossed his pack in the truck bed then reached for the driver’s side door handle, popping it open. “Keys?” He raised a stiff eyebrow at Tess, hindered by the scar tissue on his scalp.
“Sorry, soldier. You get shotgun. I know the area, and no one drives this puppy except for me. It got Pagan and me out of a few tough spots in the beginning, and I don’t let anyone else drive Red Rhonda.” Steele was a bit taken aback but nodded his acknowledgment.
“Your car, your rules,” he said, trying to hide a grin. He circled around and hopped in the passenger side. The seats were a worn faded gray fabric that originally may have been black. It was hard to tell. Steele cranked the window down, resting his M4 carbine across the truck’s windowsill. He felt a bit like he was riding shotgun on a stagecoach in the Wild West.
Tess turned the key and the pickup sputtered to life. She waved at a couple of Red Stripes and the entrance pickups rolled away, giving them access to the outside.
She gassed the old pickup away from Little Sable Point Lighthouse and onto a large sidewalk. They rolled down the sidewalk
and a sandy field of dune grass and small trees that lay between the lighthouse and a thicker forest. The sidewalk took them into a state park parking lot, and finally, they turned onto a sand-blown road leading away from Little Sable Point Lighthouse. For over a mile, they wound back and forth down the forested road until they hit a green and white Lakeshore Drive sign.
“This is where we split the other day,” Steele said. He leaned near the dash, peering left and then right.
“Right. South we go.” She twisted the steering wheel, taking them to the right.
The pickup rattled down the deserted road at about thirty-five miles per hour. Yellowish brown leaves leapt up behind them as they cruised down the two-lane road. Fall was in full effect in Michigan. Turning leaves became falling leaves, and a deep, bone-chilling cold would soon coat the coast of Michigan.
Tess turned a knob and the radio clicked on. Static blared as she switched from station to station. Nothing came through. No DJs spoke. No music played. Bored, she clicked the radio back off and slapped her hand on the steering wheel.
“Guess we’ll have to talk.”
“I’m not a big talker.” He made sure to look out the window after he spoke, outwardly making sure she knew he wasn’t interested in the fine art of small talk. He could feel her eyes on him.
“Sorry, bud. You get to be a good listener then.”
He was silent. Cold air blew through the open window and rippled his beard.
“I never would have gone for Pagan before the outbreak.” Fucking relationship talk. Is she serious? Kill me now. Six thousand ways to die out here, and I get talked to death about feelings. He continued to avert his eyes out the window.
She sat in silence as if she expected him to respond. He didn’t say anything. Relationships were not his strong suit and to add input on a relationship he knew nothing about was bound to make someone upset. He watched the coastal trees instead.
“I don’t know,” he mumbled under his breath.
“Hmm. You got nothing?” she prodded him. He could feel her glancing over at him every few seconds before looking back at the road.
He gave her a short glance and brought a hand up in defense. “I’m not a leading expert on relationships. Best to leave me out of it.”
The End Time Saga Box Set [Books 1-3] Page 84