Mad World (Book 3): Desperation

by Samaire Provost

  Here he stopped at a white door and produced a key. Unlocking it, he continued to talk as we all filed into his office and adjoining laboratory.

  “But Luke, you must realize that not only can your mother be saved, if we act quickly. Once I have the serum made, from the antibodies in your blood combined with the components I have been working on these many years, we can construct a cure.” He looked into my eyes, and finally released my arm. “Luke, every person in the world is somebody’s mother, somebody’s father, somebody’s child. They all deserve to live.” He adjusted his eyeglasses and continued. “With your help, we can end this nightmare.”

  I felt Dad behind me take hold of my shoulders and squeeze them. Zach stood by my left side, and DeAndre was on my right. I swallowed thickly, then straightened my back and looked back at the good doctor.

  “Let’s do this, doc.”

  TWENTY SIX

  It had taken us nearly a week to travel to Dr. Carroway in Boston, and it took him four days to put together seven potential serums. He worked day and night, catching naps in his lab whenever he had to. It felt like I gave gallons of blood - I had needles stuck in me almost constantly for the first hour - but I know it was only several pints. I lay weakly in bed the first night, barely able to move, feeling exhausted from the blood loss, but feeling very good, very positive. Dad, DeAndre, and Zach stayed next to me; I’d insisted on it. Risa had been taken to the next room where she was resting and recuperating. They had her in surgery in the first hour, and Dr. Carroway’s assistants had done a great job repairing the damage the zombie horde had done to her. From all the traumatic injuries, it was clear she’d been infected, and she’d volunteered to be one of the first ones the serum was tested on. Tim and the others also volunteered. They all wanted to help. They all wanted to live. This was their only chance, really.

  The third night into it I lay on my bed in the lab, unable to sleep. DeAndre lay sleeping in the corner, snoring softly, and Zach was just coming in, toothbrush stuck in his mouth.

  “Dad? You awake?”

  “Yes?”

  “It’s been nearly nine days since mom was infected,” I lay staring at the ceiling, trying not to cry. Dad was silent for a minute and I thought he’d fallen to sleep. Then –

  “I know, son.”

  “She only has three more days at most. And it took us more than six days to get here.” Tears ran down the side of my face onto my pillow.

  “I know,” Dad whispered, so quiet I had to strain to hear him.

  Zach came to sit next to me. He laid his hand on mine.

  “Dad,” I swallowed tightly past the lump in my throat. “Mom …” I couldn’t continue.

  There was silence for a few minutes.

  “Luke, it ain’t over till it’s over.”

  “I … I wish I could somehow speed things up, go back in time, somehow do something …”

  “I know, son. I feel the same way.”

  “What good is extra strength, or having the cure in my blood, if I can’t save my mom?” I put my hand over my eyes and grimaced, pressing my fingers into my eyelids to stop the tears. My heart felt so heavy in my chest it was like a two-ton weight. “What …” I swallowed thickly, then cleared my throat and began again. “What more can I do? What …” the lump in my throat stopped any more words.

  “Luke, pray for a miracle. That’s what we need.” He paused for a moment to think, then continued. “I’ve never been one for praying to any gods that may be out there, and you know I’m not really the religious type, but Dr. Carroway is a genius, and I think he might be able to pull this off.”

  “But even if he finds a cure, traveling back to Mom… I can’t see how…” tears filled my throat and I couldn’t go on. Voicing my fears seemed to give them more weight, and I didn’t want them to come true.

  “We definitely need a miracle,” Dad said quietly. “Trust me, I’ve been thinking of that as well. I think we all have, Luke. Maybe, since the zombie king is dead, and hopefully no other zombies are sending hordes after us, we could possibly speed back home in time.” He fell silent.

  “Luke?” Zach said beside me.

  “Yeah?”

  “Tell me more about your mother. I want to know everything about her,” I moved over, and he settled down beside me on his side, facing me, head propped up on his arm.

  “Where do I start?” I wiped my eyes, blew my nose, and smiled. “Well, for one thing, she’s a phenomenal fighter. She can spar with the best of us and hold her own. She can flip into the air and be on the back side of any zombie charging; it’s awesome to watch.” I settled in under the blanket more comfortably.

  “Remember the time we got into that skirmish just east of Regina?” Dad chuckled.

  “Oh my god, yes, it was so awesome.” I said, remembering that day.

  “Tell me about it, you guys.” Zach smiled.

  “Well, our team was performing a rescue in a nearby city. We’d made it to the room at the top of a factory where twenty people were trapped. The building was full of zombies, so I went out first, trying to get to the room where they were trapped. But something went wrong, and the zombies began attacking me. There were maybe sixty or seventy of them, and Mom did this cool new move she’d been practicing: fighting indoors in tight quarters, twirling with both Bowie knives out, going really fast, and attacking before the monsters could react. She saved my life that day, and many others. She told me she’d always be there for me.”

  “So you see,” I smiled, “She’s always rescued me, from the time I was born. Now it’s my time to rescue her.” Tears fell from my eyes, and Zach leaned over and hugged me.

  “That was a great day,” Dad smiled.

  “So the people got rescued? Everything was okay, then?” Zach asked.

  “Yes, thanks, in a large part, to Mom. She acted out of bravery, and the zombies had no chance,” I said.

  “Alyssa is a very fierce fighter,” Dad said. “You have no idea until you see her in action.”

  “She sounds intense.”

  “That’s a good word for her. Intense.” I said.

  “Alyssa is practically a legend back in Winnipeg with the other Sanctuary soldiers.” Dad said.

  We talked for a bit more, reminiscing and laughing. It was like medicine. Finally, my eyes started to close on their own.

  I yawned. “I think I’m finally ready for sleep. Telling that story has given me hope for a miracle again.” I smiled.

  “Luke, I believe in miracles. Something will happen.” Dad pulled the blanket up to his shoulder and curled his legs as he lay on his side.

  “G’night, Luke,” Zach went and lay down on his own cot.

  We were soon all fast asleep.

  TWENTY SEVEN

  “Luke, Luke: wake up.” DeAndre was shaking my shoulder in the still-dark room. Groggily I open my eyes, looked over and saw Dad’s and Jonathan’s cots were empty. Zach snoozed in his, curled up like a cat.

  “Wha…?” I rubbed my eyes to try and wake up.

  “Luke, come ON!” DeAndre started back out of the room, saying over his shoulder, “it’s Risa.”

  That woke me up instantly.

  “Shit.” I grabbed my pants and stumbled a few steps as I struggled to pull them on.

  “Wha’s goin’ on?” Zach yawned from his blanket.

  “It’s Risa. Come on.” Pulling my shoes on, I hurried out of the room, leaving Zach to wake up. I rushed down the hall after DeAndre. “D, what’s going on? Is she all right?” But he was already around the corner, moving at a jog. I ran the last dozen feet and rounded the corner and caught the door DeAndre had gone through just before it shut.

  Dad, Jonathan and Dr. Carroway were gathered around Risa’s bed, and the doctor was speaking to them all. Risa was propped up on some pillows and looked weak and pale but resolute.

  “Okay, I came up with seven different serums, and I’ve tested them on different animal subjects and narrowed it down to one prime result,” he held up a vial and
plunged a syringe into it. As the clear serum flowed into the glass syringe, the light hit it and reflected onto the nearby wall in a rainbow. Dr. Carroway looked down at Risa. “This serum works by both changing the structure of the plague bacteria and hastening the course of the pathogen’s life cycle, so that the microorganism is forced to turn its victims before it can adapt to the changes.”

  He looked down at the syringe filled serum, then back up at us. “If this doesn’t work, she will most certainly either turn normally or die. The most likely result of a failure is death.” He looked directly at Risa again. “Are you certain you want this?”

  “Yes, Doc,” she said bravely. “Yes. Inject me.”

  Jonathan bent over his wife and rubbed her forearm with an alcohol swab. A rubber tourniquet encircled her upper arm, which she held out, her hand in a fist.

  Jonathan looked up into her eyes and smiled. “This will sting a tiny bit, Babe.” There were tears in his eyes.

  Risa smiled and said, “I have a good feeling about this.” Here lips were so pale they looked white, and her cheeks had dark hollows in them. It was clear that the plague had entered its final stages and Risa was on the brink of turning into a zombie. The crazy trip, the jostling, the battle we fought, all of it must have hastened the plague’s progress.

  Dr. Carroway bent down and inserted the needle. We all leaned in closer to watch, and I held my breath. The serum slowly entered Risa’s bloodstream, and when the syringe was empty, the doctor removed it, pressed a cotton ball down on the spot, then put the syringe aside, and placed a bandage over the cotton on her arm.

  “There. Now we wait.” He sat back and crossed his arms, watching Risa.

  We all watched her. After a while I sat next to her on the bed, putting my arm around her and lay my head on her shoulder.

  “Risa?” I said.

  “Yeah?”

  “I love you.”

  She turned to me and gave me a great bear hug. Then I felt Jonathan on her other side, and then pretty much the whole team was in a great bear hug, embracing her, giving her warmth, loving her. She was such an integral part of our family, and a big part of the soul of our team. I turned my head and pressed my other cheek to her shoulder, facing away from her so she wouldn’t see the tears running down my face.

  After ten minutes, I thought I felt her get warmer, but I wasn’t sure. Moving my face back the other way, to her front, I put my cheek against hers and squeezed her tighter. After a minute, I was sure: she did seem warmer. She was heating up. Oh, god, she was heating up. I lifted my head from hers and looked at her. Her face was flushed, her eyes had rolled up into her eyelids and she felt hotter than ever.

  “Doctor?”

  “Um … Risa?”

  “What’s happening?”

  Dr. Carroway rushed forward and began taking her vital signs. Risa felt ridiculously hot; no person should be this hot. I remembered the plague victims who had heated up right before turning, and my throat caught. Risa had started trembling, like she was having some kind of seizure.

  “Lay her back down. LAY HER BACK DOWN!” Dr. Carroway screamed his words in a barely controlled panic, and began to yell orders to his assistants, who’d been standing silently by at the edges of the room.

  My mind blocked out all outside distractions as I watched Risa. I held her hand tightly and watched her face. Her eyes were now closed, she seemed half-unconscious, and her entire body was convulsing. Tears sprang from my eyes, and I brought my hand up to them and squeezed, grimacing. Opening them back up again when I felt her trembling get worse, I looked down to see her eyes spring open with a look of panic. This was too much for me. I had seen Risa scared, startled, frightened, even anxious. But I’d never seen her panicked. I lowered myself onto the bed and gathered her in my arms. Pressing my face right next to hers I looked into her eyes and began to speak.

  “Risa. Look at me, Sis.”

  Her body trembled harder, and I held her so she wouldn’t fall off the bed. I felt the hands of my family touching us, giving strength.

  “Risa, look at me. Risa.” She finally focused on my face, fixing my eyes with that look of panic. She latched onto my eyes as if there were nothing else in the universe.

  My eyes. They were red-tinged. My skin was pale, also tinged, but with grey. I looked like I had been halted at the halfway point of turning into a zombie. I remembered growing up, whenever people saw me for the first time, they stared. They always looked slightly alarmed as they studied me. Watched me. Until they saw me acting normally and realized I wasn’t going to attack them. But for those first few minutes, sometimes longer, they kept their eyes on me. I looked different. I looked like I was the enemy.

  I remember my mother telling me stories about how the world had been before the plague had spread, before the zombies came. She told me about the 9/11 attacks on America, and how afterward the whole country became more prejudiced. One time, when she was a teenager, she’d gone into a store to buy a sandwich, and the clerk had worn a hat that identified him as Muslim. She told me how several people had treated him badly, calling him “terrorist” and “killer.” She had stood up and told them her father was a soldier and that he had fought to keep America free so the clerk could practice any religion he wanted.

  I’d been treated differently because of my coloring. And there was no one else like me in the whole world. I was alone in being treated like a monster. But as I looked into Risa’s face, hoping against hope, praying she would be cured, I knew it had all been worth it. All the pain, all the tears, all the years of being an outcast. It had all been worth it if being different could make this plague go away.

  “Be strong. I am here,” I said, looking deep into her eyes, my face inches from hers. “We are all here. We are not going anywhere. You are not alone.”

  Her eyes focused on mine, her eyebrows pursed, she was listening.

  “I know, I know with every fiber of my being, that you can beat this, Risa.” Her body was hotter than hot; it felt like I was holding a smoldering coal.

  “Risa, my blood is in you now.” I held her and squeezed her hand in mine, bringing it up to my mouth and kissing it. “I give you my strength. I give you my resilience. I give you my energy.” Her body trembled so violently the hospital bed we were in began to rattle on its legs.

  I looked deeply into her eyes and continued. “Risa, you are the strongest person I know. You will endure this. You will come out the other end of this dark, dark tunnel you’re going through.” Tears ran freely down my face as I spoke. I didn’t care.

  “Risa, I give you my life.” I held her tightly. Her heated body trembled against mine as the serum from my blood tried to heal it from the extraordinary monster that had infected her.

  It felt like I held her for hours. I became aware of my lips against her hair, whispering: “Risa. Risa. Come back to me. Come to me. Risa.” We stayed like that for a long, long time.

  I remembered all the years growing up with Risa, she was the best big sister anyone could ask for, especially a hybrid half-zombie human who’d been strange all his life. She defended me against curious eyes, she had my back, always. She taught me how to fight, taught me gentleness, taught me fierceness, taught me courage. She’d been my rock in the storm of my childhood. When I confided in her, and she was the first person to know my secret, she let me know it was all right to be gay. She taught me that acceptance was the norm. She taught me to judge people by the character of their heart, and not by anything else.

  I held her, and held on to her, all at the same time. Wherever this thing took her, I was going, too. I refused to let her go.

  Risa.

  My tears soaked everything, my nose ran freely, I didn’t care. My sister was dying.

  Gradually, as I held her, I realized her trembling was slowing down, and her temperature was lowering. Oh, dear sweet Jesus, was she dying?

  It took more courage than I’ve ever felt to bring my face away from hers to look at her.

  As I gaze
d upon her face, I saw it was fading from red to normal cream. The heat was definitely fading. The seizure was stopping.

  She went limp in my arms, and I kept hold of her body as her head lolled back. My hand caught it and I held her there, watching.

  Her color faded to a pale, pale cream. Her skin slowly cooled.

  Oh god, Risa.

  Fresh tears ran down my cheeks as I held her and watched, refusing to look away. My blood had done this, and I would stand sentinel, witnessing what the serum did. I felt a responsibility to her.

  Her breathing faltered.

  Oh, Risa.

  Then I noticed something. Her skin.

  Her skin was turning a light grey.

  My arms, arms that held her as she died, grey arms that held her.

  Held her body.

  Her body turned grey to match my own.

  Oh Risa.

  Risa. No.

  I kept holding her and watching.

  Her skin was now cool. Her color was now light grey. She looked like my twin.

  I watched her still.

  Then I felt it. Her body was no longer limp. Her neck held her head up. Grey arms ending in grey hands touched mine.

  She opened her eyes.

  And looked at me.

  Focused on my eyes.

  And smiled.

  TWENTY EIGHT

  Dr. Carroway and his colleagues swiftly calibrated the serum for Tim and the others, and injected it into them all. We knew what to look for now, so the doctors and nurses monitored them closely as they were cured of the plague.

  Cured. Well, in a manner of speaking, yes. But changed. Risa now had my coloring. And something else, too. She had my strength. She had morphed into a hybrid. Dr. Carroway had thought something like this might happen. Given the strength of the pathogen, it had been doubtful that the victims would be entirely cured, that they could become purely human again.