The Galilee Falls Trilogy (Book 3): Fall of Heroes

by Harlow, Jennifer

  “It does that too?”

  “Harry, the only thing Doris can’t do is your taxes.”

  Corner of Simone and 17th. 6:09. It takes a few minutes for Doris to cull through the footage to find the exact place and time, in which Harry finds another pay phone number, as do I. Simone is a bust. Woman making the call. Gaiman and Wilson, gangbanger surrounded by his posse. 47th and Dini…motherfucker. Same car parked on the curb, same parka with the hood up. “Got him.”

  Harry stands and moves beside me. “Jesus. How many people would you say are on the sidewalk?”

  “This feed’s from right outside the Metro station.” A surge of people walk out of the station as Ryder hangs up, body wracked with coughs. “That ain’t good.”

  Harry grabs the phone and dials. “Cam, it’s O’Hara.” He listens for a moment. “Fine, just, we know where Ryder made the call. Pay phone at 47th and Dini. He exited the car at 6:07, used the phone between 6:07-6:09, then left the area at 6:10. He was coughing on the feed. You need to find out which trains departed and arrived around that time. We’ll work on tracking the car through CCTV in case he made more stops.” He’s quiet for several seconds. “I don’t know, think of something. Anonymous tip. The number here is—”

  “555-1981.”

  “They cut the house line and took our cells. This is the only way to reach us.” He glances at me. “I already spoke to her, but can you give Bella this number too? But only her.” He listens. “Call with updates and we’ll do the same. Bye.” He hangs up. “Hope that’s okay.”

  “It’s fine. Just no phone sex.”

  “No promises,” he says with a smile. He sits back at his terminal and pushes up his glasses. “So, how do we track him?”

  “Very dully. Check the footage at every intersection for his car. He probably took the most direct route here, Dini to Mignola to 76th to Kane Bridge. You’re on that. I’ll begin backtracking his movements.” With any luck he’ll lead us right to that lab.

  Yeah. No.

  After two hours of reviewing footage, the good news is as far as we know he only left the car the once. The bad news is we can’t be sure because I lose him four miles from the pay phone. Both Harry and I search every camera for the car but those are few and far between the further from downtown he gets.

  “Fuck,” I shout after fifteen minutes of nothing.

  “Maybe we should stop for a while,” Harry says, rubbing his eyes. “Get an hour or two of sleep. I have to use the bathroom anyway. We’re no good when we’re like this.”

  He’s right. I passed running on fumes half an hour ago. But I don’t have the luxury of sleep. I do have the luxury of coffee. It damn well better be on the approved quarantine diet. “I’ll be up in a minute. I should check on Jem.”

  “Okay. See you in a few hours.”

  “Sleep well if you can,” I shout as he walks up the ramp.

  “You too,” he calls.

  I wait until he’s out of sight before rising. Jesus, my body’s so stiff. I stretch but it does little good. Oh fuck, what if body aches are a symptom? What if…okay, stop. Stop. I’m doing it again. Maybe my gummy eyes are a symptom or maybe I’ve been staring at a computer screen for hours. Yeah, so time for a break.

  I knock on the lab door, but only get a response the second time. “Step away from the door.”

  I obey. “Okay.”

  He quickly opens and closes the door. “What?”

  “Just checking in. It’s really late. I haven’t seen you since the trailer.”

  “I’m fine. Working. The others?”

  “Mostly asleep. Or trying to be. How’s it going in there?”

  “Not as well as I would like. I’m limited in the types of tests I can conduct. Without live cultures, animals to test, more samples from the body, all I can do is cursory tests. We need an antibody test, serology reports, genetic testing, and DNA/RNA mapping. I can’t do any of those in there.”

  “Luckily there’s an entire team camped out on our front lawn who can. Have you found anything?”

  “It could be an adenovirus. Possibly a retrovirus like HIV or orthomyxovirus like influenza. It has characteristics of all. I’ve never seen anything like it.”

  “Is it airborne?” I ask, the words sticking in my throat.

  “I don’t know.”

  “Well, I have good and bad news. Which would you like first?”

  “Good please.”

  “We traced the call Ryder made to the hospital.”

  “Which I assume leads to the bad.”

  “He made the call at a public pay phone, the one in front of the 47th Street Metro station. During rush hour.”

  Jem’s shoulders slump. “You should have said I had neutral and cataclysmic news. If it is an aerosolized virus, we have a potential epidemic, possibly a pandemic by the month’s end.”

  “Okay, you said it yourself, you don’t know anything right now. There’s no point planning for the apocalypse just yet. Let’s review what we do know. Hang on.” I go grab my pad and pen before plopping on the black leather couch. Jem, somewhat reluctantly, sits on the opposite end. The last time we were together on this couch we were naked, not preparing for end times. “Here are the puzzle pieces. A group of sixteen commandos drugged an entire prison and abducted every supervillain.”

  “Every person known to have the uber-gene,” Jem corrects, the sides of his mouth twitching as he does.

  “Right. They’re brought to a lab, tested, injected, forced to inhale something, then days later they get sick. Which should be impossible because some have regeneration capabilities. Ryder’s immune system and cellular creation capabilities were on super-steroids. He probably never even had a cold. So is it possible for a virus to override genetics?”

  “Yes. It’s what I’ve been studying, remember?”

  “I sort of zoned out when you started using seven syllable medical jargon. Sorry. I’m paying attention now.”

  “What I’ve been studying is a way to do precisely that, overriding genetics. Parkinson’s, Alzheimer’s, cancer, all have a strong genetic component. What all viruses do, basically, is inject their own DNA or RNA into a cell, infecting and/or changing the cell’s genetics like a cuckoo bird replacing its own egg in a bird’s nest. Our immune systems begin to recognize the difference, create antibodies, and kill the infected cells so the body can create new, healthy ones. With adenoviruses, we create the virus’ DNA and RNA to do what we want. Gene therapy. The virus helps, in theory, and can even eradicate the unhealthy genes. But it’s a new science and our government has strict regulations on testing, especially regarding stem cells which are the greatest tool in this research. We’re years behind where we should be and very few companies are throwing money behind the research.”

  “Which is why you’re moving to China,” I add.

  “I’m not…” His mouth snaps shut. “The good news is there are only a handful of companies worldwide capable of creating adenoviruses, especially one this sophisticated. A contagious adenovirus is unheard of, and this one is more flu than adenovirus. My hypothesis is they mean for the flu to act as a flea.”

  “I’m sorry?”

  “With the Black Death, the rats carried the disease, the fleas bit the rats, then bit humans who then contracted the plague.”

  “So you think whoever designed this, their ultimate goal is to infect people who have the uber-gene with this adenovirus.”

  “Taken in context with the prison break, that is a fair assumption.”

  “I guess it’s possible, but it’s still just a theory, yes? I mean, just to play devil’s advocate, you’re basing this on one dead body, conjecture, and the fact it might be an adenovirus. Maybe the virus and what happened are two separate events. They injected Ryder with something that-that made his body go haywire and injected the virus to save him. We don’t know. We don’t really know anything for sure right now.”

  Jem stares across the couch, searching my face for something, and whatever he fi
nds garners a sympathetic smile. “You’re right.”

  The knot in my stomach loosens a little. “Look we’re both scared, frustrated, and run ragged. Harry’s right. We need a few hours’ sleep to process everything. The world won’t fall apart in two hours, right?”

  He smiles again. “I suppose. I’m exhausted.”

  I rise and hold out my hand. “Bedtime then.”

  He glances at my outstretched hand, but stands and puts his own hands in his pockets. My arm drops, along with my smile. Jem keeps his eyes down as he passes me and begins up the ramp. In fact he doesn’t raise his head all the way to the second story bedrooms. He acts as if I’m not there, a mere phantom at his side. Oh fuck, what have I done now? How did I piss him off this time? I probably shouldn’t have brought up China. I didn’t mean anything by it. And now he’s…and I thought—

  “Which is my room?” Jem asks.

  His voice snaps me out of my self-flagellation. “Uh…I don’t…” I count the doors. Fuck. “I forgot to prepare one for you.”

  “Oh. Then where…”

  “I, uh…” Oh, just say it, Jo. “you-you can bunk with me or—”

  “No, that’s not a good idea,” he cuts in.

  “Right. Yeah. Right.” Oh God, if I could only turn invisible right now. Please, God? Please? No such luck. Jem stares at me, mouth opening and closing as he struggles to find words. “I-I-I don’t know why I even suggested—”

  “No, I-I-I-I would-would love nothing more than-than to…bunk with you. It-It’s just truly not a good idea. Medically. I-I had the most contact with Ryder. I had his blood and fluids covering me. It’s almost guaranteed he…transmitted the virus to me. I really shouldn’t even be in the same room as you. We need to limit contact.”

  “Right,” I chuckle nervously.

  “I’ll, uh, just…end of the hall.”

  “Okay,” I say with a smile.

  “Okay,” he says with a smile back. He turns down the hall and starts toward his room again.

  God, it’s like we’ve gone back in time, back to the beginning. Feeling each other out, questioning every expression and word, awkward everything. Like we’ve never spent a dozen nights talking until dawn about nothing and everything. Like we’ve never seen each other cry or break down in fear. Like we haven’t kissed every millimeter of each other’s bodies. I hate this. I hate myself for my part in it. Especially now. Especially with him…no. Do it, Jo. You can. Be brave. Be strong.

  Just do it.

  “Jem?”

  He spins around. “Yes?”

  Say it. Say it. “Don’t go to China.”

  The sides of his mouth twitches into a brief smile. “W-What?”

  “Don’t go to China. Don’t go. Please.”

  We stare at one another, our smiles growing in unison. “Really?” he asks breathlessly.

  “Really,” I say, voice brittle. “Don’t go. Don’t leave me. Never. Ever. Please.”

  “Oh, Joanna.”

  He strides toward me and the moment he reaches me, he wraps one arm around my waist, pulls me against him, and places the back of his hand against my lips, kissing his own palm, before releasing me. Almost as sweet as a real kiss. He searches my eyes for my reaction but my smile says it all. He returns the gesture. “I’m not going anywhere. Never. Ever.” He kisses his palm again before beaming down at me. “I told you you had it in you. Never had a doubt, my love. Never.” His smile grows. “Good night.”

  “Good night,” I whisper.

  He starts down the hall again, stealing coy glances over his shoulder the entire way until he disappears into his bedroom. My smile drops the moment the door shuts. I manage to hold in my tears until I shut the bedroom door and curl into a ball in my old bed. I muffle the sobs with the pillow, purging the horror, the terror, the anger, the sadness for Ryder, for us, into the soft fabric. I’m scared, I am so damn scared. And how the fuck am I supposed to fight something I don’t even understand? All my money. All my power. All my connections. All my good intentions. What do they mean if I can’t save the man I love? And I do. I love him more than life itself. I never stopped. He’s in my blood. My heart. I can’t lose him. I can’t. I won’t. I won’t. Because he’s right.

  Never underestimate Joanna Fucking Fallon.

  *

  In our twelfth hour of quarantine we’re all brought into the Health Department lab for new tests and blood work. The spacesuits barely answer any questions. Not the best way to stop people from panicking. It’s getting damn tense in the house already. Devitt and the paramedic Gates almost came to blows over who got the last jelly donut. If this virus feeds off tension and terror, the fucker will be unstoppable. After breakfast, everyone went to their rooms and didn’t come out until it was test time. At least they let us have access to our phones when we’re not being poked and prodded. I have ten voice messages and twelve texts, more than half of those from Bennett. The rest are from V and The Guardian Society team. I text V back she can use her computer, and that I’m fine. Bennett’s going to take more than a text. I wait until the lab tech leaves the tiny room with my samples before calling. He must have been waiting by his damn phone because he picks up on the first ring.

  “Jo? Are you okay?”

  “Hi. Uh, yeah. Relatively.”

  “What the hell is going on? I heard a rumor you were under quarantine after a supervillain attacked you?”

  “Where’d you hear that?”

  “I have friends in the Federal Health Department. Jo, is it true?”

  “I’m not allowed to say much. Sorry.”

  His end is silent for several seconds. “Jesus Christ, Jo. Jesus Christ.”

  “It’s okay. It’s fine. Really.”

  “Bullshit! You-You’re…I-I…I’m so sorry, gorgeous.”

  “Thank you.”

  “Is-Is there anything I can do?”

  “Yeah, actually, I don’t, uh, know how long they’ll keep us here. Days, weeks, who the hell can say. They’re not telling us a thing. I won’t be able to handle any calls from the Society team. And—”

  “No, I got it. I’ll tell everyone to call me with questions and whatnot. Don’t worry about a thing.”

  “Just what I wanted to hear. Thank you. And try not to worry about me, okay?”

  “I won’t because you are going to be fine,” he says with utter certainty.

  I wish that was catching. “Just don’t let it all go to hell.”

  “Of course not. I’ll take care of everything. I just…can’t believe this is happening. I’ll bet you wish you’d taken me up on my deserted island offer, huh? Well, the moment you’re given a clean bill of health we’re on a plane there. I won’t take no for an answer this time.”

  I’m glad he isn’t here to see me cringe. This is certainly not the time for a conversation about us. “I’ll talk to you when I can. I have to go.”

  “Take care of yourself, gorgeous.”

  “I will. Bye.”

  I hang up and sigh. I do wish I were on a deserted island right now instead of inside this freezing cold, antiseptic reeking closet of a lab room. The assistant releases me, sans cell phone, after a breathalyzer test, and its back to the bigger cage. At least they’ve made us more coffee. I only slept two hours. I grab a full cup and the last donut before slinking off to The Chamber again. Jem’s been conscripted by the Health Department, advising and aiding in their adenovirus research, but he did compile a list of doctors and companies worldwide he knows are working on adenoviruses. Having given up on tracking Ryder after several more frustrating hours, this is my new task. The list is longer than I thought and it’s not comprehensive.

  I lost an hour with the testing so begin by reviewing the updated reports. The Feds and police are on the virus angle. Any facility or lab capable of holding, experimenting, or creating this bugger within fifty miles are being investigated and searched. All forty of them. And those are the ones they know about. If I were this mastermind, the whole operation would be off
the grid. No official channels. No government oversight. There are ways. God knows how much the man or group of people have spent just developing the virus itself. Billions. One would think the money factor would dramatically reduce the suspect pool, but I can’t cross off a single name or company from Jem’s list. Every biotech and pharmaceutical company is worth tens of billions, right along with the CEOs and owners. Judging from the reports filtering in, all the Feds investigating keep running up against stonewalls from these people and organizations. Lawyers demanding subpoenas and warrants while the owners call in favors with judges and politicians to quash them. It’ll be months before they get access to a single record. Good thing I don’t need to stay within the confines of the law and bureaucracy.

  The autopsy report might help narrow things down. Cause of death: muti-system organ failure by reasons unknown. Blood, fluid, and tissue lining filled twenty-five percent of his lung capacity. The muscles in his heart, kidneys, liver, stomach and intestines, along with seventy-five percent of his skin was covered with chemical burns of unknown origin. Blood tests were inconclusive due to the high pH level being twenty times the norm. There were indications of a high T-cell count consistent with fighting off a massive infection. The rest is about as useful, the crap I can understand. More tests required. In other words, his body went haywire. They have no idea what the fuck happened. Could be months before they know for sure. If ever.

  Yeah, tracking the bug it is. First up, linking the scientists and doctors to the companies, followed by tracing the companies to their parent companies. Most of these, hell most of the companies on the planet, are owned by about ten corporations, Pendergast being low on that list. If memory serves we owned at least three biotechs, down to two when we sold Blackwater to Goliath. I couldn’t tell you the other biotech’s names let alone anything about the day-to-day running of the companies or their projects. Micro to macro, Jo. First focus on who could do this then onto who could give them the tools to. Another problem is just because this happened in our backyard doesn’t mean the mastermind isn’t from another country. Jem scribbled notes in the margin of his list. Typical doctor. I can barely make out the words even with months of practice. Something about not publishing and public appearances and patients for the past five years. I suppose if you’re working on a super-secret/illegal project you won’t be telling people about it. Should narrow the list. This is still going to take for-fucking-ever. Fifty items and nowhere near them all. That’s another two hours gone, adding to Jem preliminary fifty. A hundred twenty now. Ugh.