Boston Under Siege (Book 1): Virus:

by Willson, Fisher

  "Has Black Hall Institute issued a statement?"

  Ami and Alexx exchanged a glance but stayed quiet.

  The reporter at the scene said, "Only that the CDC and National Guard have stepped in. We're being told that the outbreak is contained. Advisories are still in effect and the general public is asked to stay out of Cambridge unless you have official business." A red banner scrolled across the bottom of the screen with phone numbers, evacuation procedures, a boil water notice and a website for more information.

  "But it doesn't seem to have deterred these hardy folks," the reporter said as the camera panned over people holding Support Our Troops signs. "There are hundreds of people who have gathered here to cheer on the peacekeepers. This is what they've been waiting for all along, Pam."

  A tracking shot followed Armed Forces grunts passing crowds of supporters, but in the distance protestors shouted epithets and held signs that read: "Zombies are people too!"

  They cut to a close-up of the anchor in the studio. "Any projections on when the occupation will end?"

  "They're totally ignoring the protestors," Trips commented.

  "Skewed reporting, what else is new," Ami said.

  Ichiro shushed them as the anchor continued: "I'm told that the operation is well in hand under Colonel Daniel Campbell." A photo of Colonel Campbell flashed onto the screen. Trips choked on his noodle soup.

  "Shut up!" Ichiro glared at Trips as he clutched the remote and turned up the volume. Trips held his breath to stop coughing.

  The reporter continued, "In the coming days, the plan is to secure the city. Efforts to do so thus far have been hit or miss."

  "Dude, I know that guy," Trips whispered.

  "Let's hope disaster has been averted," said the anchorwoman.

  There was the patter of gunfire in the background. "Well, with this new wave of Federal troops on the ground, Pam, we'll see if the rifles are hushed soon. This is Jack Briscoe, reporting live from Harvard Square in Cambridge, Massachusetts. Back to you."

  Alexx picked up the remote and clicked the mute button. "It's been like this for days. They act like its news, but it's not."

  Trips sounded like he was about to hack up a lung. Ami patted his back, as she glanced at Alexx. "That water sample. Did you ever do an analysis? Was it the mop water that changed Professor Weiland's super soldier serum?"

  Alexx shook her head. "Don't know. All I've been able to figure out is that the agent behaves like anthrax with a viral piggyback. The virus has multiple pathways and can survive longer than usual outside the host."

  "Is it cannibalistic?" Ami scrunched up her nose.

  "Mm-hum." Alexx slurped her noodles, her chopsticks rolling in the air.

  "Wow, wicked nasty bug." Ami picked up her bowl with both hands and sipped the broth.

  Trips was still choking. Alexx put her chopsticks across her bowl and got up. "Yep, latches onto the RNA that's most prevalent in the host then replicates the fuck out of it until that's all she wrote." She got a glass of water at the kitchen tap. "There's no going back once you get it."

  Trips coughed and asked hoarsely, "In English, please?"

  Alexx pat him on the back and handed him the glass of water.

  Ami grasped his wrist, spilling some of the water on the table. "Wait. Is that safe? The water?"

  Trips glanced from Ami to Ichiro. He croaked, “Yeah, my water filters. Right?"

  "Yeah, you're fine." Ichiro swallowed a wad of noodles down. “Closed system. Our own tank – tell you later.” He sat back. "See, the thing is, about the virus is it finds your worst or most dominant physical feature and kills you with it. Some survive that, and then they just have brain drain.”

  "Brain waves, “Alexx nodded and winked, picking up her dishes.

  Ichiro continued, "Yeah, if your brain is on boring all the time, you'll be a zombie, if you're aggressive, a vampire. If you have some innate quality that's worth enhancing—"

  Alexx interrupted, "And your brain wave patterns can handle it—"

  "Right," Ichiro acknowledged, "Then you'll get the upgrade— like you three did. I haven’t been exposed except through Alexx and it clearly doesn’t spreads like that.” He glanced at Alexx. “You and Ami were at ground zero, right when it happened. Ami was pre-exposed since she looked at Petrie dishes with your lab director the night before, then when the two of you went in the next day, boom, you were exposed again.”

  “But not me Ich,” Alexx said. “I was only exposed once.”

  “Yeah, but it was a serious exposure, right? Your lab mates and the animals died.”

  “Except for the rabbit.” Ami sighed.

  “‘Cause you played with it the night before,” Ichiro said. “Then you came to see us play at the club and hung out with Trips after, right?”

  Ami shrugged. “Yeah, I guess. I don’t know what happened.” She sighed and rubbed forehead. “We looked slides that were absolutely benign. Hyperactive mitochondria, that’s it. Whatever was under the bench must have changed.” Ami tapped her lip with her forefinger. “But come to think of it, there was a new janitor there.”

  “Yeah, he must have spread it somehow,” Alexx said, “to the municipal water system.”

  Ichiro glance at her. “Supposed to be closed, but it’s possible. Sluice gates fail, so do clean-ups. You found the Petri dish on the floor.”

  “Wait, go back to the other thing. So, it's based on how you think, as well as physical characteristics?" Trips asked, his cough finally easing.

  "Seems to be. I'd love to really culture that sucker, but no word from our dear lab director, Felix.” Alexx picked up her bag. “Listen, I've got to scoot. I'm teaching Women's Healthy Image Program this afternoon. I'll come back and get you for the meeting with Admin, okay?" She turned to Ami, "Unless you want to come co-teach?"

  "No way, Alexx." Ami shook her head. "I need a nap."

  Trips shifted, muttering. “So, I was pre-exposed that night too on account of Ami, then when I got hit by the hydrant—”

  "You okay?" Ami asked, turning to Trips.

  Trips nodded, pushing away his food.

  Ichiro got up and saw Alexx to the door, while Ami went to investigate for any improvements in Trips’ bedroom. She was on the phone, when Trips flopped onto the air mattress beside her after putting away the remains of their meal. He grabbed the AV system remote from the workbench.

  "Yes, okay, four-thirty. I'll let him know. Thank you," she said, trying not to giggle as Trips nuzzled and kissed her belly. He snapped a belt he found on the floor with a salacious grin then tossed it back into the mire, clicking on a musical mix that started with Al Green's Let's Stay Together.

  "Let him know what? Who him? Him me?" Trips bit a pearly button on Ami's shirt and attempted to unbutton it with his teeth.

  "Him you," Ami said, smiling as he undid her buttons with his fingers.

  "Mm-mm. What they want with him?" He asked, rubbing his rough hands over her body and diving in for a mouthful of flesh. "Mm, him want her."

  "They want him at four-thirty," Ami twitched a smile as she untied the sash on his robe. "Sometimes...you're just so...English." She laughed.

  Trips’ face clouded for a moment.

  Ami realized her error and mashed her lips together. “Sorry.”

  He rolled over on top of her. “Soul is where it's at, baby." Trips warm breath and stubble tickled as he snuffled her lower belly. "And I'm Scottish, but I’ll forgive this transgression because you are so fine..."

  Ami closed her eyes as he buried his face in her bits, but after a few minutes, she asked, "Trips, what's with Sandy?"

  Trips grunted and wiped his mouth with his fingers then rolled onto his back. "I've told you. Nothing."

  "Yeah, but..."

  "You'd rather talk about that than..." He paused. "Ami, she was never my girlfriend. She was, ya' know, a distraction, an occasional distraction. A mistake."

  "But she..."

  "Because she's jealous." They listened to the m
usic for a moment. "She knew."

  "What?"

  "She knew. She totally knows. I told her."

  "You did not."

  "Yes, love, I did. I know I did."

  "Trips, that's just rude." Ami picked up the remote, and clicked a button; the same song started over. "Ugh, turn this off, please."

  Trips clicked it off. "Ami, you've got to believe me."

  "I do. I'm sorry. It was so awful, and then she... Oh, I don't know." Ami pulled the sheets around her.

  Ichiro burst into the room just as Trips rolled over to face Ami. He immediately bounced up off the air mattress. "What the hell, Ich?"

  Ami dropped to the floor with a loud thud. "Um, 'ow.'" Trips sashed his robe tight and threw a blanket at her. It landed on her head. "Hey!"

  The boys rolled their eyes and glared at each other. "I just need the laser level. I'm hanging a show today." Ichiro took a step toward the workbench.

  Trips pointed at the door. "Get out."

  "Come on, where's the laser level, dude?"

  "I'm with my lady here."

  "It's just Ami, dude. It's not like I haven't..." Ichiro trailed off as Trips took a step toward him, his face turning red. Ichiro shrank back. "Okay, sorry, chill. I just need the thing, then I'm, like, totally, gone," Ichiro reached under the drum kit toward a toolbox.

  "Don't you ever knock?!" The vein in Trips' forehead pulsed.

  "Dude, I just need the stupid laser level," Ichiro said, as he flicked the light switch.

  Trips' pupils shrank into tiny pinpricks as the color drained from his face. "Ahhh! Get out!" He arched and twisted as he pounded his fists against his head.

  Ami had never seen him so angry and it appeared neither had Ichiro as he crouched, ready to run. "Dude?"

  Trips reached over to a toolbox and whipped the laser level at Ichiro as the walls flickered and the opening chords of Amie by Pure Prairie League played. Trips rose to full height looking like a caricature of death as a dread head in a ratty gray bathrobe, his bony finger extended toward the door. "Out!"

  Ami sat up, holding the blanket to her chest. Ichiro looked directly at her. "Dude, I'm so sorry. Seriously, thought you guys went to your place."

  Trips tore at his hair, whimpering at his computer, as Ami shooed Ichiro away. She tiptoed over to Trips who was looking at the screen, mumbling. The tune continued to play as the walls and ceiling changed color from pink to white to blue. Slowly, an animated mountainscape with a starry night sky came into focus as the singer sang the first phrases of the lyrics. Clouds spelled Ami's name in script and stars coalesced to form the figure of a shapely woman dissolving into swirls of blue and yellow, like van Gogh's Starry Night. "Sorry. If I turn it off abruptly, I'll have errors all night. It's just got to go through its sequence. It's still really buggy. It'll just be a minute," Trips said through his teeth with his fingers hovering over the computer keyboard waiting to key in the clear command. "This is so embarrassing."

  "Wow. You did...all this?" Ami asked, looking around the room.

  "Yeah, well, um, I had this crush on this girl for a really, really, long time," he said wiping sweat from under his eyes. He glanced at Ami, "It's what kind of kept me moving on the project, waiting for... I never meant... This is so old. It sucks!" Trips rocked back and forth waiting to punch the keyboard. When the song finished, the room went back to a dull glow of white-pink light, and he turned it off. He flopped on the airbed with a groan, and lay motionless, breathing heavily, his face buried beneath his dreadlocks.

  Ami knelt next to him. He didn’t move. She touched his shoulder. Nothing. "Again! Trips, c'mon, make it go again! Please?" Ami leaned on his hips, rocking him back and forth.

  "No, it's just stupid," Trips said, still hiding in his dreads.

  Ami stepped over the milk crates to the keyboard, and with a devious smile tapped the enter key.

  Trips sat up. "Okay, okay, don't touch it," he said, rolling off the air mattress and stomping over to the computer.

  "So, your wacky nanotech paint just looks white until you turn on the computer?" Ami leaned on his back, running her fingers through his downy chest hair as he started the program.

  "Yeah, well, with the let's embarrass Trips to death bonus. I'm going to show you a different one. One I want you to see. Okay?"

  Ami nodded, hugging him. "Trips, why are you a bike messenger if you can do all this?"

  He thought for a moment. "Um, 'cause it helps me do this. Helps me think. Like, messin' is, like, just, kick it and fly." He shrugged, opening a terminal window. "That's when ideas come, and problems get solved, when I'm not thinking. If I think too much, I go bonkers. Same with drumming, really. Otherwise, I wouldn't sleep at all."

  "Are you ADHD?" Ami asked.

  Trips shrugged, keying in a command.

  "If you don't get enough exercise, you go crazy, right?"

  He shrugged. "I suppose. Basically."

  "Guess we'll have to work on a regular exercise schedule for you," Ami said, walking her fingers from his chest to his belly.

  "This is what I've been sayin', baby," Trips said, leading Ami to the air mattress. "I like your bed better," he said, as the Loch Lomond night sky and forest came into view and the night sounds swelled.

  "Yeah, but you have a better view and sound system. This is amazing," Ami said, watching a shooting star cross the sky. "It looks so real. How'd you get it to do that?" she asked, searching for Trips' hand. "You related to Merlin?"

  Trips laughed and curled his fingers around hers. They fell asleep in each other's arms under a Scottish night sky.

  Chapter 4: Where Is My Son?

  The rain only served to increase the humidity penetrating the climate-controlled offices on Capitol Hill. The United States Senator from West Virginia loosened his blue tie and pressed the intercom button inset in the Carpathian elm burl desk. "Check again, please. He should be there."

  He picked up the family portrait and examined the likeness of his son. Why don't you call? Just call. That ridiculous hairstyle and scraggly beard are the least of my concerns, right now, and I'm sure you did a plumb fine job at your conference. Ervin, your Mama is worried sick about you. We did not raise you to disrespect her so.

  All right, you wouldn't do that. All right. So, what do we know? We know you made your flight. You got from Glasgow to Boston. We know you were at Logan during lockdown, and your phone isn't picking up calls.

  Dammit. Why didn't you take the damn bus to the base? What could possibly have prevented you from boarding that damn fool bus? You're a smart boy. No, you're a man. You're a smart man. You're not dead. You're not dead, I feel it in my bones, you're not dead.

  He let out an exasperated sigh and set the photograph back in its place. It has something to do with that boy Ichiro. If he's still in Boston, you'd as soon be there as dead. You wouldn't want to leave without your friends. I can accept that, but why won't you call me?

  An aide rustled some papers at the edge of the desk; the Senator lifted his chin, expecting a report as the young man dialed a number. "No word from Kenmore, yet, sir. I'm not sure they're active."

  "Keep trying."

  An aide appeared at the door holding a manila folder. "Excuse me, Senator Kentigern?"

  "Yes? Come in," the senator said, stepping out from behind his desk as he buttoned his navy-blue jacket. "What's the word? Have you found him?"

  "Um, no, sir. They've done an initial sweep and they haven't found anything to indicate that your son...I mean..." The aide trailed off.

  Kentigern held the air in a clawed hand. "That he's dead? Good. Well, what have you found? Speak."

  The aide took a step back and glanced down at his notes. "We believe he made it out of the airport, and we believe he's not at the compound. I mean, that part, that's for certain, sir. They let A through M go."

  "They were supposed to hold K."

  "Yes, sir, I know, but he wasn't there. He wasn't even on the roster. He wasn't..."

  "Uh, then where the
devil is that son of mine?" Trips’ father asked, raking his fingers through his thick white hair. He nodded, dismissing the aide. He snapped his fingers and looked at another aide in the room. "Get me Colonel Dan Campbell on the phone, would you please, and Ichiro Kai, I need to talk with him straight away."

  Chapter 5: Meeting With Admin

  Half an hour late for their meeting at Black Hall Institute, Ami was an emotional wreck. She relied on her Anne Taylor suit to magically make her more adult, but her presentation on the Nanotechnology and Smart Systems conference in Scotland felt inconsequential. Trips knocked knees with her once she sat down next to him, but it did little to comfort her. She glanced at Alexx, who nodded her approval. Ami arched an eyebrow. No one gives a shit about this when Boston is filled with zombies. She glanced at her Dean. Are you going to fire me? I was in charge when the virus broke in the lab. Fire me? Hah. You’re going to put me in jail.

  Katelyn Wieland, the college’s administrative dean, straightened the cuffs of her gray silk suit and exchanged a glance with Buckley Brent, the temporary head of the laboratory. He tapped a manila folder and offered a thin-lipped smile. “We really called you in for this.”

  Here it comes. Ami’s stomach tightened as images of Felix Weiland, the lab director, showing her the defense department research Petri dishes flashed through her mind. You cared more about your date with Trips than keeping the lab safe from some aberrant DARPA research. Please, give me a chance to fix this! I’m so sorry.

  Buckley Brent slid the folder over to Trips. “We can offer you shared lab facilities for the time being, and you’ll be associate professor once on board.”

  Ami shivered, too astonished to do anything but grip the arms of her chair. They’re giving you a lab? Oh, my heart. Breathe, girl. They’re giving him a lab!

  Trips scoffed as he opened the folder. “I don’t understand. I’m not even done with my dissertation on polymers and cohesion.” He fluttered the pages of the contract, bouncing his leg. “It has nothing to do with the nanotech light conductive matrix.”

  “Stop it Trips. Just accept.” She quailed when he turned his sharp ice-blue eyes toward her.