ARES Virus (Book 2): White Horse

by John O'Brien

  She turns the light on. Four closed doors open off the corridor. Holding onto one of the knives she took, more because it makes her feel safe than because it offers a real threat, she closes her hand around the first doorknob. Turning it quickly, she throws the door open, her heart pounding hard against her ribs and holding her breath. She almost yells, “Ah ha” as the door bounces off a near wall. Turning on the lights reveals a bathroom.

  Two other doors lead into a bedroom and one that looks like a crafting or sewing room. The door at the end of the hall is the last. She holds onto the doorknob, fearful of opening it to find bodies decomposing on the bed. Emily knows she won’t be able to handle that. She sniffs the air, knowing that dead bodies stink. There’s nothing she can distinguish other than that the house smells…old. She begins turning the knob.

  “Please…please…please,” she whispers as the door opens a crack. She peeks in.

  The room is gloomy, with only a shred of light from the storm outside able to make its way in. In the semi-darkness, Emily imagines all kind of shapes lying on the made bed. The lumps of bodies.

  Did that one move?

  Wanting only to run out of the house, she opens the door wider. Light from the hall streams in, a band of illumination falling onto the bed. The lumps reveal themselves for what they are: folded blankets lying on the end of the bed with a lacey bedspread covering a mound of pillows. A heavy sigh escapes Emily’s lips, her held breath releasing all at once. Seeing the bed for what it is, she wonders what she was scared of.

  Feeling immensely better, she turns off the lights on her way back to the kitchen. Water runs out of the faucet when she turns it on and the light comes on in the refrigerator. Everything seems to be working and she appears to have the house to herself for the time being. She hadn’t seen any sign of the bad people for a long time as she cycled down the highway. It’s remote, so there isn’t much of a chance that anyone else is around. Not wanting to give any sign that someone is here, she maneuvers the tricycle through the front door and closes it, engaging the locks.

  With the rain still falling outside, she rummages through the kitchen cabinets, finding a few boxes of mac and cheese.

  “I can make this,” she mumbles, opening the fridge to verify that there’s milk.

  She finds a pan and follows the directions on the box, having to stand on a chair to see fully into the pot on the stove. Finishing, she spoons out the entire contents into a large bowl, putting the pot into the sink to soak. Sitting at the table, the patter of rain hitting the window, she eats her first hot meal in days.

  Running water and plenty of food. You know, this might not be too bad.

  Emily knows that she can’t stay forever. It takes people to make the electricity work, so it may not last. And, there’s only so much food in the house. That will eventually run out. Finishing her meal, she uses the bathroom.

  A real bathroom.

  Still feeling chilled, she runs warm water into the bathtub, the outside world forgotten. Stepping into and lying down in the bathwater feels like heaven. The warm water soaks away her fears. Lying back, she reflects on the ordeals she’s been through: having the nerve to leave her aunt’s place, making her way through the city, overcoming obstacles, journeying down the highway, and facing many fears. Thinking about it all, she feels proud of herself.

  I’m a survivor, she thinks, wondering if the soldiers she was with are still alive. I hope so.

  Later, wrapped in blankets on the couch, playing a game on the phone while listening to the rain and storm outside, Emily feels not only peace, but safety.

  “Yeah, I think I’ll stay here for a little while.”

  Chapter Sixteen

  Northwest of Colorado Springs, Colorado

  October 11

  The almost brown pavement of the road works its way through the valley in a series of straight stretches like someone was playing connect the dots. To one side, brown grasslands cover open areas next to a small creek that the road follows. To the other, evergreen trees cover low-lying hills that lead to a steep ridgeline, a multitude of valleys and ravines shadowed from the late afternoon sun. Snow in the higher elevations is a portent of the coming winter.

  The days spent arriving into the eastern Rockies were much the same; endless dirt tracks meandering through farmland. Constantly wearing the protective gear was wearying, physically and mentally, and accompanied by long periods of driving without conversation. The only encounters through the flatlands were the occasional infected running from farmhouses at the sound of the passing Land Rover. The nights seemed the worst, fatigue fighting with the irritation of keeping the gear on. And, having to sleep in shifts to have someone alert for any stray infected meant hours of complete boredom. At least there was something to do while they were driving.

  Once they reached the mountains, it was just a matter of pick and choose with regards to direction. Koenig didn’t have a destination in mind and was winging it in their search for the elusive unicorn, which, in this case, meant finding a location where they could survive the winter. It had to be remote, but sheltered with a supply of water. They couldn’t go too high or they’d become too snowbound. And game…there had to be a chance of finding game. If they found a wide enough stream, they could rig some device to funnel fish.

  There are a myriad of details that now face them. At first, their goal had been only to escape. Now it’s become a problem of finding a short-term solution, if not long-term. Escape, make it through the winter with some modicum of safety, then figure it out for the long term. They can’t go into the cities for supplies, so they’re left with what they have and can fashion. They passed a lake that looked like a state park with a small caretaker cabin a few miles back. Koenig keeps that in mind, the best place they’ve come across so far. If they don’t find anything else by the time the sun sits just on top of the mountains to the west, he’ll turn around and they’ll call that home.

  “James, look,” Liz states, pointing.

  Coming out of his thoughts, Koenig looks at where she’s pointing. A thin line of smoke rises above the hills ahead. He pulls over to the side of the road, stops, and gets out.

  “Do you think it’s either the start of or the remains of a forest fire?” Koenig asks.

  “Honestly, it looks like smoke from a woodstove,” Liz answers.

  “I don’t know,” Koenig says, looking at the road leading to the side and heading up a narrow valley. “Maybe.”

  “What do you think, James?”

  “Well, if it is from a woodstove, then that means there likely aren’t any infected. On the other hand, it could be an untended fire that started for a myriad of reasons.”

  “We were looking for a sign.”

  “Do you mean like a giant neon sign with a pointing finger?”

  “It may not be flashing lights and sirens, but I think it might be as close as we’re going to get.”

  * * * * * * *

  Rainbow Falls Mountain Trout, Colorado

  October 11

  Brown dumps another armload of firewood into the back end of the pickup, wiping a forearm across his brow to remove a line of sweat. Although the days are cooler than he’s used to, the late afternoon sun bathing the valley, the dry air, and laborious work takes a toll. After a night of rest, the soft mattress feeling like heaven’s cloud, they set to work immediately. Yesterday, they removed what groceries they could from the semi before the reefer unit ran out of fuel. The cabin was complete with a large refrigerator and three huge freezers meant to hold the catch for the members who came up for weeklong vacations.

  Today, Brown set out to gather the cut firewood near each of the three onsite cabins, bringing the large piles to the main cabin. There should be enough to last through the winter. He assigned the cadets to inventory everything they came across. How many quads? How much gas? What tools did they have available? Tonight they’ll take stock of what they have and figure out what they lack.

  The weapons Brown locked in
a small room off the basement, along with a ton of fly rods set neatly into racks. The one thing bothering Brown is the whole greenhouse idea. They need one, and that means journeying close to a town. He still has hope that there is a nursery on the outskirts that they can take apart without hassle.

  Tired and ready for a shower, Brown looks toward the sun sinking close the ridges to the west. He’ll have time to fill this last truck bed and call it a day. It feels good to do real work again. Looking at the hills and far ridgelines to the east, from their secluded and peaceful setting, it’s difficult to imagine the utter chaos on the other side. The mountains function as a wall, shutting off the madness of the world beyond. Here, they have a slice of heaven. The time they spend crossing the land seems unreal, almost as if he dreamed it.

  Turning to head back for another armload, the sound of a vehicle reverberates off the hills rising from the valley. Brown pauses as if it couldn’t be real, then sees a faint line of dust rising from the entrance road.

  “Well, fuck! There goes the fucking neighborhood,” he angrily mutters.

  He doesn’t want any intrusion into their world. There’s no telling what types may show up. Really, the only ones who know about this place are people from the town of Woodland or the rich who could afford the fees. Having passed through Woodland, he doubts the new arrivals are from there.

  That leaves the rich, and they don’t like being told what to do. However, they made it out of whatever situation they found themselves in, so they have that going for them.

  Brown grabs one the ARs off the front seat and crouches in the shadows of several trees near the gated entrance, casually stroking the trigger guard as he watches the vehicle approach. The SUV that moves into view is travelling slowly, approaching cautiously as opposed to racing to the park. Whoever is nearing is either wary of finding infected or doesn’t know the place and just happened upon it…or is about to.

  Brown glances toward the cabin that is larger than most houses. A thin plume of smoke rises into thin air.

  Shit, we might as well have sent out the bat signal.

  He thinks that more is better in terms of surviving, but that deeply depends upon who the more is. If friction develops it could well tear them apart. He vaguely wonders if that could happen with the two male cadets and Clarke. There hasn’t been any sign of that and she’s one of them, but will that last?

  Of course, that girl could kick both their asses with one hand.

  Brown edges deeper into the shadows as the vehicle slows, then stops at the gate. Inside the dark gray SUV are two people in protective gear, and not the kind you find at your normal outdoor store. The stuff looks high quality.

  That definitely puts them into the non-infected category. Brown chuckles. Like the infected can drive. You need to be sharper than that, ol’ boy.

  He shifts the carbine, cradling it in a manner to bring to bear in an instant.

  “That’ll be far enough,” he calls.

  The two figures jump, their heads turning sharply as one. Brown sees them searching the shadows within the trees, attempting to locate his position.

  “You know how this is done. You two get slowly and smoothly out of the vehicle with your hands in sight at all times and I don’t shoot you. I ask a lot of questions, you answer them, then we become best friends. Option two is that you do something foolish and I shoot you dead. I’m okay with either outcome, except that I’d rather not have to dig the holes,” Brown shouts.

  The two obviously exchange a few words, then doors open and two people emerge, their hands in the air.

  “You, the driver. Make your way around to the other side. Make sure not to stumble, as I might take that wrong and shoot your buddy.”

  When the two are standing together, Brown again yells, “Is that all of you?”

  One of the suited people nods.

  “I’m not going to suddenly find a trunk full of midgets, all armed with tommy guns and shouting obscenities? Because I’m not going to take that very well.”

  The same person shakes their head.

  “Any weapons?”

  “We have a couple inside,” a man’s voice responds.

  “Why don’t you step a little further away from the vehicle so I can feel all warm and fuzzy about this whole thing.”

  They comply, shuffling a few feet forward.

  Brown scans them intently. They don’t appear to have any weapons on them and he has a distinct advantage. However, he’s been in situations where he thought he had the advantage only to find that quickly change. Taking a chance, Brown emerges from the trees, his AR shouldered and ready.

  “I’ll bet you just love seeing a man coming out of the woods with a gun in the mountains, huh? Worst nightmare time? Do you hear the banjos playing?”

  “I…I…” the person next to the man begins stuttering.

  “Easy, I’m just fucking with you. Now, it’s time for the question and answer portion of our little get together. Who are you?”

  “I’m Colonel James Koenig. And, this is my wife, Liz,” the man answers.

  “Well, this is awkward,” Brown comments. “You can lower your hands, but no funny business. What are you doing here? Are you a member of the resort?”

  “No. We escaped from the east, trying to make it into the mountains when the virus manifested. We saw the smoke from your fire and…” Koenig finishes with a shrug.

  “You can take off that gear,” Brown suggests.

  “To be honest, we’d rather not,” Koenig replies.

  “There aren’t any infected around here. The air is clean, as you can see by my lack of protection.”

  “Perhaps not, but you could be infected. A carrier not exhibiting symptoms.”

  “Oh. So, if you stay, you’re going to wear those the whole time? That doesn’t sound very comfortable.”

  “Well, I do have some gear in the back that can test whether you have the agent.”

  “You know, Colonel, and forgive any lack of respect, but you seem to know an awful lot about this. Just an observation,” Brown states, lowering his weapon a notch.

  “And you’re obviously a military man, Sergeant, judging by your fatigues, rank, and name tag.”

  “Master Sergeant Maurice Brown. But, from what I saw, the military isn’t really a thing anymore. So, we stand in this kind of between area.”

  “I wouldn’t try to interfere with any authority here. Honestly, I’m not much of a combat soldier. Mine was more in the, well, medical field,” Koenig responds.

  “Okay, just so we get that right. You’re a doctor, then?”

  “Not…really.”

  “Okay, evasive. You must have an interesting story. What do you say you get your gear, leave the weapons in the vehicle, and turn it off? We’ll drive over to the main house and do whatever you need to do there. Then, we can sit down and have us a real chat.”

  “Do we have a choice?”

  “Not really…sir.”

  “Call me James. Like you said, the military became a non-entity several days ago.”

  * * * * * * *

  “You don’t have veins, you have garden hoses,” Koenig tells Brown as he inserts a needle to draw blood.

  After a while, with the spinny things doing their spinny things, the results on Brown and the cadets come out negative.

  Koenig begins to remove his mask.

  “Wait, wait, wait. What about you? You might have this shit and spread it to us.”

  “We don’t have it, I can quite assure you.”

  “And I fart fairy dust and have a unicorn in the back room. Would you believe me if I assured you of that?” Brown asks, staring at Koenig.

  “The odds are that you and the others are immune, anyway. Being in the midst of it only wearing a surgical mask shouldn’t have kept all of you from becoming infected. But, if it makes you feel better, I’ll test both of us.”

  “It would. See, I live by feeling warm and fuzzy. Knowing will allow me to remain in that condition.”
r />   The tests prove negative and the Koenig’s remove their protective suits.

  “Oh my God, that feels good. We’ve been in these things for days.”

  “I, um, can tell,” Hayward says, pulling his head back.

  “Okay. Before it’s bath time, let’s go back to the questions. You obviously know a lot about this infection and the resulting situation. Is this thing truly worldwide?”

  “As far as I know. The reports came in quickly from all over. Last I heard, the president and his staff were heading to the bunker. I went home to get Liz and we fled,” Koenig answers. “Now, we’re here.”

  “And you know the president went there, how?”

  “Because I advised him to,” Koenig states with some obvious reluctance.

  “Advising presidents places you rather high. Who are you, really?”

  “Like I said, Colonel Koenig. I was the head of the USAMRIID.”

  “Well, that certainly clarifies a few things you’ve danced around. I’m going to throw a word out there, and don’t take this as a personal attack,” Brown says.

  “Okay. I can guess where this might be heading, but go ahead.”

  “Pineville,” Brown says.

  “I was afraid you’d say that. I’m guessing you see the correlation between that and what’s happening now,” Koenig comments.

  “Yes, and no. You see, we were there…well, three of us anyway.”

  “There? As in with the quarantine troops? What were cadets doing there?” Koenig asks, confusion written across his features.

  “No. I mean there…like in the city kind of there,” Brown replies.

  “Oh!” Koenig exclaims, a dawning recognition crossing his face. “Did you happen to go to Springfield afterward, by chance?”

  “No. But I know someone who did,” Clarke interjects. “You see, we brought this little ten-year-old girl out with us…Emily. I think she went there after we handed her over to her aunt.”