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

by Harlow, Jennifer

  Okay, think. I need to think. There is usually one piece of evidence, one person, an offhand comment, one mistake that solves the case. I brought a serial killer to justice after finding a pizza receipt. We’re got Motoneslly running scared now. They’re desperate, and the desperate make mistakes.

  Okay, I’m the mastermind. I’ve spent billions and years, decades, on this project. I’ve created a shell company, bought a biotech, medical supply company, and airline and those are probably the tip of the iceberg. I use all three, funneling funds to my secret projects using Biodyne’s facilities and infrastructure. The medical supply company provides the equipment, once again off the books, including the lab where the villains were taken. Equipment gets lost all the time. When the virus is ready, I use the airline to disperse the virus worldwide. Spray close enough to major airports or trade winds, and it’s around the globe in weeks. But if it was Biodyne then why create a serum against the virus? Maybe there’s another biotech company we haven’t found yet owned by Motoneslly. And our government wouldn’t let them release the serum until multiple tests were conducted. That would take months and by then it’s too late for supers. It would have worked, all of it, if James Ryder hadn’t broken out. Now they have to move or all of this was for nothing. Which means…they have to be planning to release the virus sooner rather than later. We need to ground that airline or at least keep it under surveillance.

  I re-read all my notes, all the other’s notes, trying to assemble the puzzle. Find the key. The one. The facility where Ryder escaped from. Find that, find it all. It’s nearby. The mastermind bought Health Medical Inc. to supply it and his other research facility. The supplies could have gotten “lost” in their computers, but if they used an outside transport company and we get their records, and we may get our location. I type that up and email it to both the feds and Justin. Geronimo hasn’t sent the records yet. That reminder goes in the email as well. Can’t do fuck all until I get a copy. The doctors will pass the time.

  India keeps popping up. It’s where the supply company’s based, and it seems Dr. Andrew Mendelson, Dr. Sergi Lermantov, and Dr. Kelvin Tan all live there. After a forty year career, most notably on the team that discovered the uber-gene, Mendelson’s been retired for over a decade. India’s not the place I’d retire to. Drs. Lermantov and Tan last worked at Synergy Tech, the former specializing in adenoviruses and the latter in the recombinant DNA structuring. All that’s missing from Jem’s proposed list is a virologist. Dr. Sabine DeRue, who last worked in Malaysia for B.N. Sciences Industrial, transferred to their Malaysian facility before abruptly quitting to “focus on family” six years ago. Except her husband died two years before in the supervillain Bastille’s second bombing. She’s vanished since. She’s a French citizen but one of the supers in France couldn’t find an address on her. Missing scientist with a grudge against supers? We need to find the bitch. Of course how to find her eludes me at the moment. That goes in the email too.

  A second after I press “send,” on the house surveillance cameras, I see three lab assistants coming out of the front door. Shit. I rush upstairs before they come looking. I join the other prisoners as the lab techs escort down Jackson and the paramedic Hernandez. Though I just gave over an hour ago, my tech draws more blood, saliva, and air samples before hustling out again. They keep me waiting in this freezer almost half an hour, and when someone finally returns, I leap off the gurney. “What the fuck—”

  “Ms. Fallon, Dr. Ambrose just collapsed. He’s asking for you.”

  I practically body slam past her after the word “collapsed.” She nods to the room down the narrow hallway. Jem’s on a gurney as two spacesuits adjust the monitors and take his temperature. “What’s going on? What’s happening?” I take his icy hand. “You collapsed?”

  “Doctor, his temp is 96.4,” the assistant says.

  “I’m fi—” Jem says before coughing. Hard, wet, wracking coughs just like…my stomach seizes. One tech gets him water while the doctor listens to his chest. All I can do is hold his hand until the fit passes.

  “How long have you been ill? When did this begin?” Dr. Vaugh asks Jem.

  “Yesterday afternoon,” I reply. “He said it began as vertigo which grew worse and led to headaches and muscle fatigue.”

  “Why didn’t you tell us?” the doctor asks him.

  “He’s telling you now,” I cut in.

  Dr. Vaugh turns to the assistant. “Nurse, prep the chamber for transport to Our Lady Hospital. Contact them that we have an incoming patient to the Infectious Disease Ward with Level 4 precautions required. Have Dr. Strong return post haste. I’ll escort Dr. Ambrose myself.”

  The nurse nods before walking out.

  “Is all this necessary? Can’t you treat him here?” I ask.

  “The hospital is far better equipped than we are here to manage his symptoms,” the doctor says.

  “I understand,” Jem says quietly. He squeezes my hand. “John, can you give my fiancée and I a minute alone?”

  “Of course, but someone will be just outside the door if a problem arises.”

  “I’ll be fine,” Jem assures him.

  With a nod, the doctor leaves as well.

  “Is there any way to stop this?” I ask.

  “No. We knew this was coming, Joanna.” He coughs and tries to clear his throat. “God.”

  “Are you okay?” I ask almost breathlessly.

  “This just began. It’s manageable. I just…” he squeezes my hand. “There is some good news. Your blood tests are clean. You’ve fought back the virus. We even think you’re no longer contagious.”

  “That’s wonderful. I-I can come with you to the hospital. I—”

  “It hasn’t been verified yet. Besides, there are no visitors in the infectious ward.”

  “So you’re saying…”

  He squeezes his hand tighter. “I’m saying…I love you.”

  “No. You think…you think this is it, don’t you?”

  “Joanna…”

  I snatch my hand away. “No. No. This isn’t goodbye, you idiot. You—”

  “Joanna, shut up,” he snaps. I’m taken aback. This is a man who can face down seven men with assault rifles and never lose his temper. “I need to talk, okay? Please let me say this. I need to.” My mouth snaps shut, and I give a little nod. “If, if the worst occurs…you will need someone. Your first instinct will be to push people away. Lash out. Because even though I am telling you right now none of this is your fault, you will blame and want to punish yourself regardless. I know you will. So I’m going to ask you to promise me you will fight that instinct. I am asking you to promise that you will allow people to take care of you until you’re strong enough to care of yourself. That you will lean on them. Let them in. Especially Justin.”

  “Jem—”

  “You forgave me, my love, now I am asking you to forgive him. Twenty years, Joanna. Twenty years of love and laughter and acceptance. You know one another better than anyone, present company included. You can beat him bloody, call him every name in the dictionary, spit on him, and he will always be a phone call away. What you have together is rare, so rare. He loves you, and deep down you still love him. You always will. It’s too ingrained in you both. It’s weaved into your very fabric. There is no…Joanna Fallon without Justin Pendergast. So, if this is the end…please honor my request. Let it go. Let the anger go and try to celebrate the fact he’s alive. Celebrate you have the other half of your soul returned to you. Promise me you will at least try. Promise me or I’ll torture myself with worry about you. If you love me, Joanna, you’ll spare me that. Promise me?”

  I take a deep breath. “I promise.”

  He kisses my hand. “Thank you.”

  I rest my head on our entwined hands and stare into his bloodshot eyes. “I am going to save you,” I say with utter certainty. “I am going to save you, Jem. I am going to fight until I don’t have the strength to lift a pinky finger or take a breath.”

  “Y
ou wouldn’t be you if you didn’t.”

  I kiss his hand again. “Don’t you dare leave me alone in this world, Jem Ambrose. Don’t you dare.”

  He manages another smile. “I don’t know if there’s a heaven or hell, but I do believe we leave something behind after we’re gone. So know…you’re never alone, Joanna. You think of me, and I will be there. Watching over you. Cheering you on as you fight and claw and do all the wondrous things you do until this universe exists no more. You gave me the greatest moments of my life. You are everything I never knew I needed. I love you so much. More than I knew I was capable of. Thank you. Thank you for casting your lot with mine.”

  “It’s my pleasure,” I whisper. “It’s my honor.”

  The door opens again and two spacesuits come in with a plastic casket with a HEPA filter on top. Oh, God. Not yet. There’s still so much to say. They have to physically pull me from his side so he can climb into that fucking box. As they seal the lid, it’s as if I’m the one who cannot breathe. Somehow Jem maintains a small smile for us all. A brave face. I want to scream, punch, cry all at once. This is it. It could be. No. Please. I all but float outside my body as they wheel his clear coffin out of the room. It’s the only way I can handle this. The only way. The only way to keep from losing my fucking mind. His smile never wavers. His eyes never leave my stricken face. I want to touch him. Crawl in there with him. “I love you,” he mouths before coughing again.

  “I love you too. For a million nights and a million more.”

  He presses his hand to the plastic, and I place mine over his all the way to where Dr. Vaugh reviews papers on a clipboard. That’s all Jem is to him, paperwork and a disease. Who is going to be in his corner? Keep the nurses in line and doctors attentive? Hold his hand and make him laugh when he’s in pain or terrified? I’m stuck in here while he…

  “I need to go with him,” I tell the spacesuits.

  “Ms. Fallon,” a nurse says.

  “My tests are clean, right? I’m not contagious anymore? Then you have no right to keep me prisoner anymore. I want to go with him. Now.”

  “Ms. Fallon, we require further testing before clearing you—”

  “Joanna,” Jem tries.

  “I want to go with him.”

  “And that is not possible, Ms. Fallon,” Vaugh snaps before looking at his assistants. “Nurses, let’s get the case through decon. The ambulance is standing by.”

  “Yes, doc—”

  “I’m going with him!” I shout. “I-I’m—”

  Ignoring me, they wheel him to the next room. The moment he’s out of sight, my lungs seize up along with every muscle in my body and fold of my mind. I try to draw in air but the tall roadblock of terror and panic won’t allow any to pass, which increases the strength of both those bastards. My legs won’t support myself much longer. The spots will begin soon. After another attempt at air with no success, the tidal wave of fear crashes into me. One of the nurses rushes over to me, getting right in my face, hers still behind the helmet but I wouldn’t be able to hear her words anyway. Jem’s the only one who can help me now. He presses my hand to his heart and stares into my eyes, ordering me to break the block. I can’t. I can’t. He’s gone. He may never return. I can’t breathe. I can’t do this anymore. I can’t. I—

  Oblivion tags me out.

  *

  Oh, why couldn’t it have been a dream?

  I open my eyes to find myself back in an exam room. At least there’s a friendly face by my side reading the newspaper. “What happened?” I ask Harry or really croak at him.

  He sets down the paper and smiles. “Hi. Welcome back. How do you feel?”

  I manage to sit up. “Embarrassed. I haven’t had an episode that bad since Cain.”

  “I think this whole situation ranks up there, don’t you? I’m shocked we’re all not dropping like flies from panic attacks.”

  “I guess. It’s still fucking embarrassing. How long was I out for?”

  “Two hours. Jem told them to wake me so I could watch over you right before they took him to the hospital.”

  “The man’s dying and he’s still the one taking care of me.”

  “The nurse just came in a few minutes ago. She told me he’s resting comfortably at the hospital.”

  “I have to get out of here, Harry. I need to be there with him. He might not—” I snap my mouth shut. I’m not putting that out into the universe.

  Harry takes my hand. “He’ll be okay. He’s strong.” Harry squeezes my hand. “And he has everything to live for.” My ex releases my hand and sits back in the chair. “Plus, you may be sprung sooner rather than later. There’s been an update on our progress. Seems like whatever was in that Biodyne serum worked on you, Jackson, and Hernandez. You’re no longer contagious, and your viral load is almost nil. You should be released in a few hours.”

  “What about everyone else? What about you?”

  “The rest of us are running low grade fevers, have headaches, muscle aches, and Kowalski’s been coughing since he woke up.”

  “You’re sick?” I ask, my still tender stomach and lungs seizing again.

  “They’ve assured us there’s a seventy percent chance we’ll only experience a standard flu.”

  “Seventy percent?”

  “I’ll take those odds, Jo.”

  Another one putting on a brave face for the broken woman. “Guess it’s a good thing the people who did this don’t hate all of humanity, just supers.”

  “Good for some,” Harry says solemnly.

  Time for more bad news. “They knocked us out, Harry. They found out we were getting close and wiped away every record, every search of Motoneslly. Blew up their offices too. We’re fucked.”

  “When the hell did this happen?”

  “After we went to bed. What we have is pretty much all we’re getting which means we’ve got fuck all. Even with the doctors. I think I know who they are, but there’s nothing more on them that we can find. And Jem’s…” Fuck, I’m crying again. I swat away the tears. “Millions could die. Hell, they’ve probably already released the virus by now, and we’re no closer to finding them then when this whole shit show began almost a month ago.”

  “We do. We have suspects, we have evidence, we have dozens of avenues to walk down now. Biodyne. The airline. The doctors. They can’t all be dead ends. Don’t lose hope, Jo. I’m not.”

  Staring at my friend, my mentor with a thin layer of sweat on his fevered brow, trying to keep on a brave face, my stomach twists, this time from guilt. He’s the sick one, the newlywed with a thirty percent chance of never seeing his wife again. Never holding his son or daughter. I know I can be selfish, but this is beyond the fucking pale. I force the misery, the hopelessness behind my mask once more. “You’re right. We’ll get them and make them pay for this.”

  “Damn right,” he says with a nod. I nod back. “Now, if you’ll excuse me,” he says, rising from the chair, “I’m going to let them know you’re up. They have more tests.”

  “They can remove my liver if it helps you all get better.”

  “Your liver?”

  “You have a point there,” I say, even managing a smile.

  He smiles back before departing. I drop the front and fall back on the gurney. Two more hours stolen. God knows how many more while I’m stuck in here getting tested again. At least I get to leave this prison soon. Three out of nine. Only one third of us helped by the serum. Not great. Not enough to pass federal regulations for wide use. If they release the virus now it won’t do any good. Non-supers could die too. The elderly and children. The weak. Maybe that’ll keep the genocidal sociopaths from jumping the gun on spreading it. God, I hope so.

  More painful tests follow. Tubes stuck down my throat, a spleen and lymph nodes biopsied, the worst of all bone marrow. I have to scream into a pillow for that last one. They’re going to use it all to try and develop a serum and vaccine. Work fast assholes. I have to lie on the gurney in horrendous pain despite the pain
meds—there go weeks of sobriety—before they finally come in with good news instead of needles and agony. They have officially verified I am no longer contagious and have no legal right to keep me here anymore. I just need someone to come get me and keep an eye on me for the rest of the day after the biopsies. V doesn’t answer her phone. I could call my aunt and uncle, but they’ll follow the instructions to a T and I’d go from one prison to another. Which leaves…

  “They’re letting you out?” Justin asks over the phone.

  “Yeah. You have a car, right? You can come get me? It’s perfectly safe to come to the gate. You won’t even have to leave the car.”

  “Okay. I’m on my way. See you soon.” He hangs up.

  Since all my old clothes are contaminated both old and current, they help me undress before forcing me into another decon shower after which I’m blasted by UV lights for a few minutes, wheeled into another clean room where I put on a new set of sweats and socks, and wait for my ride. This is how I leave my own house, pushed in a wheelchair in borrowed clothes. They won’t even give me back my purse. More oncoming hell. A trip to the DMV.

  A police cruiser blocks the end of the driveway down at the gate. I’m surprised the press hasn’t arrived. There’s a tarp across the driveway to hide the huge lab from the street view, but there are a half dozen cars lined up to the tarp. People must think I’m having a party. One of the officers in the squad car climbs out and runs up to me and my wheelchair chauffeur, taking over the duty. She has better things to do then push me. A gold Sedan waits on the other side of the gate which opens for us when we reach the squad car. Justin leaps out of the Sedan, a sight for these beyond fucking sore eyes. Both men help me into the warm car. Justin gets in and a second later, without a glance back at his former home, drives us away.

  “What happened? Why were you in a wheelchair?”

  “Bone marrow biopsy. Lymph node and spleen too. They might need me to do it again. We need to stop by a pharmacy. They gave me prescriptions for Percocet, an immune booster, and Ativan.”