by Bryn Roar
Bud didn’t like hearing about semen samples. Semen taken from his mother’s dead body. It was sick. “Say semen again and I will lose my fucking mind.”
Cutter wiped nervous sweat from his brow. “Well, getting back to the events following your mother’s, um, murder. At the time our primary concern was Luke Taylor’s whereabouts. For obvious reasons we were worried he might spread the virus before we could catch him. As I said before, back then our funding was through the roof. Bidwell sent out over a hundred men that night to look for Taylor, including myself, but as you know, the trail went cold. No trace of him was ever found. Once Bidwell was convinced that Luke Taylor had succumbed to the virus without spreading it any further, he circled the wagons and distanced himself even further from the Center, halting further testing until the heat died down.”
Bud spat on the floor. “I don’t buy that shit.”
Cutter looked amused. “Don’t buy what? Something specific or the whole damn thing.”
“The part about Luke Taylor’s disappearance. My dad tracked him into the Pines, heading towards the Army Base. The man didn’t just vanish without a trace, Cutter.”
“I’m sorry, Bud, but that’s exactly what I think happened. I think Taylor crawled into one of those sinkholes, which you know are so prevalent out there, slipped into a coma and perished. Maybe someday his bones’ll turn up, but believe me, Bidwell doesn’t have a clue as to that man’s whereabouts.”
“How can you be so certain, John? You have to admit, keeping Taylor’s remains under wraps would be to Bidwell’s advantage.”
“Think about it, Bill. Why would Bidwell have gone through all this trouble and expense over the years, searching for his precious virus, if he had had one of the original vectors in his grasp? No, sir. I would’ve known of such a discovery. Bidwell often lamented the loss of Luke Taylor’s last remains.”
“What about my mom? Did that sonofabitch lament what happened to her?”
“To be perfectly blunt, son, no. Her death didn’t give him any pause at all. Bidwell’s only real concern was that the military might catch wind of the tragedy out here, and put two-and-two together. For that would have been the end of our little tea party here on Moon. Clint Bidwell didn’t have a lick of humanity in him, I now regret to say.”
Bud finally relented. Cutter’s logic was unassailable. He wondered if he‘d ever played Hide and Seek in the same sinkhole where the Red Eyed Man’s remains lay moldering. What a lost opportunity! Had he known, he could’ve pissed on the bones.
He studied John Cutter more intently.
“What about you, then, Mr. Cutter? How could you work for a sick deviant like that? How could you help create a disease whose sole purpose was to perpetrate mayhem and strike terror in your fellow mans’ heart?”
This time Bill Brown didn’t admonish his son. It was an excellent question. His bared his canines as he waited for John Cutter’s reply.
Anger clouded over the researcher’s face. “I was on the control side of things, young man. I had nothing to do with the disease itself! Just the cure!” As soon as John’s objections left his mouth, he realized how specious they were. His shoulders slumped and he seemed to diminish right before their eyes. “You’re right, of course. No amount of rationalization on my part can erase my culpability in all this. I guess I just allowed myself to get caught up in the war against terror. That nothing was off the table when it came to dealing with terrorists. I mean, nothing! At least that’s what I’ve been telling myself for the past eight years. That it had nothing to do with the vast sums of money Bidwell was promising us. Besides, I was in charge of the vaccine! The vaccine that would protect our soldiers in the fight against terror!” Cutter sighed hollowly. “The fight against terror. How karmacially ironic is that?”
“So there is a vaccine?” Josie asked. If so, it meant Ham might have been too hasty in ending his own life. It was not something she thought Rusty should ever know.
Cutter looked ready for a nervous breakdown. “No. Given time, I would’ve had one, but the virus and all our hard work concerning it now belongs to the U.S. Army. And I don’t believe they intend on pursuing that avenue anymore. Not with The Center, anyway. As far as they’re concerned, there’s no such thing as RS13! I must admit I hadn’t considered the government would react this way when I called the CDC on Monday. I thought they’d at least keep me around to work on the vaccine! They shut us down right away, though.” Cutter threw up his unhandcuffed hand. “Well, at least they didn’t tell Bidwell I was the whistleblower. He just assumed they got cold feet once the virus was ready for production.”
Bud thought of something that had been nagging at him ever since their first encounter with RS13, out in the Pines. “One more question, Mr. Cutter: Why are these things so hard to kill? Sometimes it seems as if there’s a supernatural element at play here.” The last he said in an offhand manner. As if embarrassed by his own observation.
“I know how it appears, Bud; and like the other behavioral byproducts, that too was a happy coincidence for us at the Center. Just think, if you, an educated young man could be made to consider there was something otherworldly going on with these creatures, what would a third world, superstitious people make of it in, say…the hills of Afghanistan? No, son, the infected don’t possess any supernatural abilities. Their bodies just don’t respond to pain and shock the way ours do. It takes their central nervous systems a little longer to get the message, that’s all. When you think about it, it’s not that much different from a man high on PCP. Crazy makes for some scary shit. Believe me, if you take out the heart or brain, the Rabid will drop dead. Just as quickly and just as assuredly as you and I. They’re human beings, not zombies, for god’s sake!”
“What about the eyes, then?” Bud said, unwilling to let it go. “Why do they glow in the dark, like…like…”
Cutter smiled. “Like the fires of Hell?”
“Yes! Come on, that’s not natural!”
“We believe that’s a result of the brain swelling and the virus’s thermal effect on the optic nerves and irises. A byproduct of the encephalitis and fever.”
That was bullshit and Cutter knew it. Bud was right. The glowing red eyes weren’t normal and had yet to be quantified. Still, he refused to consider that Evil was at play here. Viruses aren’t Evil! The only thing “Evil” about RS13 was the immorality behind its conception.
Still unconvinced, Bud chose not to argue the matter any further. What was the point? Adults could rarely see past the ends of their noses. Even his dad seemed satisfied by Cutter’s facile replies.
Like Bud, Josie was also unconvinced. “From what I saw today I have to agree with Bud.”
“Such as?” Cutter asked in a condescending tone.
“When we first encountered the rabid dog in the Pines last week, she behaved like an animal sick with the disease. In fact, Bud and I knew it right away. But today…”
“Yes, dear?”
“Well, when Chief Briarson and his men came after my friend and I in the Sheriff’s Office, two of the volunteers slithered after us like snakes on the floor.”
A bemused smile creased Cutter’s lips. “Slithered?”
“Slithered,” Josie insisted. “It was…” she searched for a word, and then it came to her. “Demonic.”
Even though he wasn’t there, Bud nodded his head ardently. Even Bilbo seemed won over by Josie’s description. They all glared at John Cutter.
Cutter held up his hand again. “Without seeing it for myself, I couldn’t tell you. It certainly doesn’t sound like typical behavior of a rabies victim. But as I was saying before, this is a brand new, much more devastating strain.”
Bill moved on to a different subject, one that seemed less dark. “You never told me why you had the change of heart, John. Did you have an idea that the virus had spread beyond the Center’s control?”
“I was certainly worried about the likelihood. I mean, including Oscar, there were three RS13 positives running
loose on the island! It would have been a miracle if the virus hadn’t spread beyond them! Moreover, I didn’t think Bidwell was giving that dire possibility enough consideration. It was criminally irresponsible, is what it was. That’s why I called the CDC on Monday. Although, to be fair, I didn’t think anything was really amiss until I returned to the Center earlier today. O’Reilly and I came over together from Beaufort to clear out our rooms and offices at the Center—"
“This was before the blockade?”
“That’s right, Bill. He and I spent the last two nights at a Motel 6 on the mainland, waiting out the storm. O’Reilly docked our boat at the Center’s dock…or what was left of it after the hurricane—and then we headed over to the main compound, where Brian pointed out a deer staggering on the vast lawn. Where the guard dogs were, I don’t know. The Dobermans usually run to ground any animal that strays onto the property. Vicious canines, those. Anyway, Brian and I looked at each other and knew right away what it was. We’d tested enough animals with rabies over the years to recognize the disease at a glance. Still, one deer doesn’t an outbreak make, and who’s to say it was our rabies? At least that’s what I told myself. The buck was a hundred yards away and seemed so ill that we barely kept an eye on it as we hurried along. Halfway to the labs we heard the pounding of the hoofs. It ran at us full tilt, head bowed, antlers pointed right at us! I went left and Brian went right. It was a throw of the dice, I tell you. The deer turned with O’Reilly. Impaled him on its rack, one horn pierced through Brian’s body, coming out the backside.
“Must’ve broken the man’s spine, because it killed him instantly. He just flopped there on the buck’s huge rack like a rag doll. The deer made these awful moaning sounds, trying to rid itself of the body. Which was my good fortune, I suppose, since it gave me time enough to run back to the boat. I never did get to my office,” he added regretfully.
“Why didn’t you return to the mainland while you still had the chance?” Bud wanted to know.
“Don’t think I didn’t seriously consider it.” Cutter had a faraway look on his face. “First thing I did was contact the CDC on my cell phone. They instructed me to notify the Sheriff and the Fire Department. That was around three o’clock this afternoon.”
“Why couldn’t they make those calls themselves? It seems to me they would’ve been the ones to coordinate efforts with the local municipalities. ”
“At the time I didn’t consider that very cogent point, Bill. I realize now they were stalling me. They needed to get all their ducks in a row, and they didn’t want anyone, including myself, getting off the island until they’d ascertained the severity of the outbreak. Which, when you think about it, is S.O.P. in these sorts of situations. I called the emergency number at the station but the lines were still down. I skirted the island in the Chris Craft, looking for signs of an outbreak, and docked at the harbor around three-forty or so. One other boat was also docking at that time and all seemed well. I was walking behind a family of four, who had disembarked from a rather large pleasure craft. I don’t know their names, though I’d seen them around the island before: a mother, father, and two little girls wearing identical dresses. Twins, I think.”
Josie’s hands flew to her mouth. “The Portmans’!”
Bud put his arm around Josie, bracing her for the impact to come, knowing it was going to hurt like hell.
“They were passing the Town Hall building, hand-in-hand, when three naked men came out of nowhere and fell on them. They killed the father straight away. Ripped open his throat. He bled out right before my eyes, his feet beating a sad riff on the asphalt.” Cutter’s eyes glazed over. He was seeing it all over again. “The Rabids then pulled the woman and the two little girls, kicking and screaming, into the shadows of the open Firehouse doors. Strangest thing, even though I was no more than twenty feet away, those naked, gibbering men didn’t even glance my way. I stood rooted to the spot, too terrified to move. I knew what was happening—I’d suspected as much when I skirted the coast and saw the animals swimming for the mainland—but the attack on the family confirmed my worst fears. The virus had spread unawares! The hurricane; the subsequent power outages; the downed phone lines; cell coverage being spotty at best. They all conspired to create the perfect cover for RS13 to blossom! Still out on the street, I could hear the Rabids violating those poor women—”
“The twins were just babies!”
In an awkward attempt to comfort her, Bud patted Josie on her back. He’d had no intention of ever telling her what he’d seen of the twins that evening, of how he’d ended their misery with a dollar’s worth of buckshot. Still, the news confirmed Cutter’s earlier statement. Regarding the virus’s unpredictably in children. It meant the twins had become full-blown Rabids in a matter of hours…not days!
“I’m sorry, Josie; you’re right, of course. Only RS13 doesn’t make those kinds of moral distinctions.”
If Cutter thought an unemotional response would help lessen the grief, he was wrong. Josie sobbed even louder. Cutter waited until she reigned in her emotions. The young lady needed to understand what they were up against, and she couldn’t do that, crying like she was.
Finally, her sobs hitching to a halt, Josie motioned for him to continue.
“I was able to run past the insanity in the Firehouse. I was heading up the stairs to the Sheriff’s office, when I saw this huge Mastiff serenely feeding on a man’s face underneath the stairwell. It wasn’t one of our dogs, I can tell you that. The man was still alive, actually petting the snacking beast! I’m not sure, but it looked like the Sheriff to me. Once again, I was fortunate the Rabids were too busy with other victims to bother with me just yet. I got upstairs but I couldn’t locate any of Henderson’s deputies. For all I know, they could have been one of the full-blown Rabids down in the Firehouse. I tried the radio but the CDC had moved quickly. My guess is they contacted USAMRIID after my first phone call. United States Army Medical Research Institute for Infectious Diseases—that’s the military equivalent of the CDC, and this is exactly why I had bypassed them in the first place! In the name of national security USAMRIID can do just about anything they have a mind to. They operate with iron gloves and aren’t afraid to use them to squash an entire population’s civil liberties. I could hear the awful goings-on in the Firehouse below, so I tiptoed across the breezeway, and headed over to Bidwell’s office. His door was locked. A note said he was on vacation. I had a good signal out on the breezeway, though, so I took the opportunity to call the CDC, to relay what I’d witnessed since my last call. I’d hardly mentioned my name, when the signal died.
John made a throat cutting gesture. “Doesn’t matter. The CDC won’t intercede on our behalf. They know if they interfere in a military black op they could very well endanger their funding. It’s happened before.”
He took a deep breath. “Fully intending to get back to my boat, and get the hell off this island, I headed back to the Sheriff’s and looked around for a gun, but they were all locked up. All I could find was a dull machete on top of the gun cabinet. I headed back to the harbor with my weapon in hand, hoping it wouldn’t be necessary to use it. I was giving the Firehouse doors a wide berth, when I saw Bill and Mr. Peteovich run across Main Street, further up the road. It was then I heard a scream in that same direction. I gave the harbor one last look before running over to help.”
“And that’s where our paths crossed,” Bill said.
“You would’ve been home free had you gone for your boat,” said Bud, shaking his head. “The Coast Guard wouldn’t have had time to stop you.”
Stone-faced, John Cutter stared at the floor.
Josie broke the silence that ensued. “So they’re just going to let the virus run its course here on Moon? What about us? What about the uninfected?”
Cutter shrugged wearily. “If you think about it, what choice do they have? After the international WMD debacle in Iraq, the current administration can’t afford to let this scandal come to light. Even if we survive the
virus…”
“We still might not make it off the island,” Bud said, thinking again of his Bunker.
“Let’s not get ahead of ourselves,” said Bill. “For now, let’s just concentrate on getting through the next three weeks without further injury or infection.”