by AJ Sinclair
“Indie!” Dallas sobbed her sister’s name. “Save us.”
The words halted her, and she tried to explain. “I will, if I can get to my lab…” But her mother lay dead, and coughs interrupted her father’s tears. An old man like him wouldn’t live long enough…
“She can’t.” Monte snorted. “She’s as baffled as all the other brains.”
Indie brushed past her brother as she turned back to hug Dallas, and the two sisters cried in each other’s arms. “I’ll come back.” She kissed Dallas on the cheek. “I promise.”
She dropped to her knees beside her father, still crumpled in the chair. “I love you, Daddy.”
“What am I going to do without her?” Emerson clutched his daughter’s hand. “She gave me everything, and I couldn’t…”
Indie held him close, steeling herself against the wave of sorrow that threatened to knock her over. “We’ll get through this.” Standing took effort, pushing herself up with her hands braced on the armrest, one shaking leg at a time placed under her. She reached the door without acknowledging her brother and took one last look at her mother—lifeless and ashen.
Then she left. Indie rode down the crowded elevator with tears streaming down her face, but no one noticed, no one cared. She walked outside and got on the E Line back to the university. The afternoon sun shone too bright, exposing the signs she’d missed before. People coughing all around her, sweat glistening on skin even in the air-conditioned train. A woman slumped in the seat facing her, asleep to the casual observer, but Indie heard her breathing shallow and fast.
She hurried off the train and got swept up in a crowd of commuters, the usual afternoon rush, but this time something felt wrong. Something dire loomed as two young men leaned on each other, arms around their shoulders as they coughed and stumbled their way through the parking lot. Two camo-wearing soldiers with guns strapped to their hips kept a wary eye on the chaotic commuters. They’re new. Had she never noticed them before?
Cold dread crept up the back of her neck, following her to the lab. “Dr. Francis!” Her voice echoed, and she glanced at the clock. “Anyone?” The staff had cleared out early and in a big hurry, apparently. Sounds of a crowd cheering carried down the hall. Someone had left the TV on in the breakroom, and a baseball game carried on.
Indie reached for the remote, but before she could pick it up, the game cut out, replaced by a screeching signal and the Emergency Broadcast System graphic. She glanced out the window, searching for signs of a tornado, but knowing the weather hadn’t caused the alert.
“The National Guard has placed portions of the city of Denver under quarantine. Stay where you are. Do not attempt to return home. Stay four to six feet away from other people. Do not engage with anyone who appears to be sick. This quarantine will remain in place until further notice.”
The message repeated, droning on and on as Indie automatically walked down the hall to her lab. She pulled the vial of her mother’s blood from her coat pocket and smeared a sample on a microscope slide. The lens blurred and she adjusted it, bringing her nemesis into focus. “There you are, you bastard.” Her fists clenched as she fought back the urge to smash the slide into a million pieces. “I will kill you.”
Chapter 1
INDIE
The virus killed everything Indie sent after it, and the blood sample was dwindling quickly. She might have to risk going out to get more. She could treat others, take samples of their blood and test it against hers to find out why she survived when they hadn’t. No one else had stayed at the university. They’d all tried to get home despite the quarantine instructions.
The eastern half of Denver, from I-25 all the way out to the airport, south to C-470 and north to I-76, had been surrounded by the National Guard and invaded by the Army. The federal government ordered residents and visitors to stay where they were—at home, at work, and many ended up stranded on the road since it happened during the afternoon rush. The disease had spread fast, infecting hundreds in a day, thousands in two days, killing over ninety-eight percent. Anyone who got out was immediately returned to the quarantine area and left to die.
Indie, of course, had been stuck in her lab. She’d isolated herself there. Yes, she was immune, but going out was risky even without the virus. Anti-quarantine protests had turned violent. Looting went on unchecked, and the military had lost control.
Two days later, or what felt like days—Indie’s concept of time had dissipated rapidly—viral sample sixty-seven died under her microscope. I did it!
She’d found an antibody that killed the virus, rather aggressively too. Now she had to test it on a living creature. She hated testing on animals, she really did, but this quarantine left her no other options.
Thunder shook the building, rattling the windows as sun shone through. That’s not right. Again. Closer. Indie’s microscope vibrated across her desk. An explosion? The lights flickered, sending Indie’s heart racing. No! The power couldn’t go out now! She had more work to do! She could save people, but only if she lived long enough to do it.
There's no time!
***
Rizzo the rat twitched his long white whiskers as Dr. Indiana Jones approached his cage. She walked by him to grab her chart documenting the numerous experiments she’d conducted, not quite believing the little critter was still breathing this morning. But there he sat, wiggling his pink nose and squeaking at her for his breakfast.
“Rizzo.” She set the chart aside and bent down to get a closer look at him. “You look…healthy.” The word sounded foreign to her ears. She had the virus, and she had the antibody that killed it. And now it appeared she had the cure.
The rat snatched the kibble she held out to him and gobbled it down in seconds, then begged for another. “You certainly have your appetite back.” Yesterday, the little white rat had collapsed in his cage, bleeding from his glassy eyes while breathing fast and shallow. Indie’s stomach rolled at the memory. Just like her mother. Just like all the other rats before him that had died within hours. But Rizzo ate up his breakfast then sniffed Indie’s fingertips, squeaking indignantly when she told him he’d had enough.
He’d recovered. Now she had to test it on a human. “That means I have to find an infected person.” Too late to save her mother. But maybe she could have her brother or sister.
Her eyes stung, blurring for a moment, but Indie wiped the tears away and grabbed a backpack, shoving supplies into it. Syringes, vials, a granola bar, bottles of water, anything that would fit. Do I have everything? She glanced around and picked up a sharp pair of scissors.
Would she need a weapon? The news had shown reports of looting and violence, people trying to escape being shot as they attempted to scale the chain-link fence stretched across the interstate. People bleeding and dying, helpless to do anything but infect those around them. Indie stuck the scissors into a side pocket then slung the backpack over her shoulder.
“I’m going now.” Her voice echoed in the empty lab, followed by tiny squeaking. “Rizzo.” She unlatched his cage, and he crawled into her hand. “I’m sorry, baby. I won’t leave you.” She stroked his white fur then tucked him into her lab coat pocket.
“All right. I’m ready.” She strode to the door and opened it for the first time in days. Now what? She rarely did field work. All her experiments had been conducted in the lab. Damn it, what am I doing?
Rizzo poked his white whiskers out of her pocket, tickling her wrist.
Focus. What’s my objective? Indie took a deep breath and let it out slowly while she contemplated her plan. Get to the hospital. Find a human subject. Administer the formula. Document the results. Yes. But to do that, you have to get out the door. Without another thought, she stepped into the hallway and exited the building.
Bright sunlight hit her in the face, and a warm breeze stirred her hair, carrying with it the stench of rotting flesh. Indie suppressed a gag and clapped her hand over her nose and mouth. She blinked, and dark shapes came into focus, bodies lying in pools of blood
on the sidewalk. Students, staff, and both the soldiers she’d seen on her way back from the hospital. All dead. She’d seen the news reports from the safety of a TV screen, but seeing—and smelling—the real horror made her suddenly aware that she was not safe.
The urge to rush back inside and lock every door between her lab and the street fought hard against her need to kill the thing that did this. But was there anyone alive to save?
She swallowed the bile that had risen in her throat and failed to avert her gaze as she walked past the fallen soldiers. Someone had taken their guns. Cold goose bumps rose on her arms as metal rattled ahead of her. The sign for her favorite bookstore hung loose, banging against the brick wall. Windows had been shattered and books set on fire. “How could they?” Tears and stale smoke stung Indie’s eyes.
Glass crunched under her feet as she wandered on. An overturned car sat in the middle of the street, blackened and broken. She peered inside, scolding herself for thinking she might find someone inside she could help. The wind howled again, sending newspapers and bits of cardboard swirling around her ankles. She picked her way through the debris, careful not to step on anything sharp. Infection—of any kind—could be deadly in these circumstances.
A shout rang down the street, raising the hairs on the back of Indie’s neck. Danger or someone in need of help? She didn’t have time to decide as a young man ran into her, dropping the plastic grocery bag he’d been carrying. A loaf of bread fell out, and a bruised apple rolled across the sidewalk.
Her arm throbbed where he’d smashed against her. “Do you need help?” Indie stepped closer and noted the blood dripping from his nose.
He ignored her and retrieved the bread, glancing back as another shout approached.
“Get him!” Two men and a woman chased after him. The woman raised a gun and shot the apparent thief in the leg. He fell to the ground, dropping the bag.
Indie shrank back against a brick wall, heart racing as the woman picked up the grocery bag and dug into it. “What happened to the granola bar?”
The young man on the ground said nothing. Another man snatched the gun from the woman’s hand and shot the thief in the head. Blood spattered on the sidewalk as he collapsed and died. They searched his pockets, then one of them noticed Indie and elbowed the others. “What’s in the backpack?”
Everything she needed to survive this hell. She shook her head. “Just books…and things. I’m a scientist.” She shrugged, hoping that information would disinterest them.
“Take it.” The woman sneered.
Indie backed up a step as the men approached.
The window next to her shattered as a gunshot echoed. The gang scattered, and Indie ran as bullets sprayed chunks of brick and concrete across her body. She ducked around a blind corner, gasping for breath for a split second then took off across the street, away from the gunfire. Her survival instincts kicked into high gear, and she hoped her racing heart wouldn’t give out before she had a chance to get the cure to her family.
***
ELI
Bodies had been left to rot in the streets. Hospitals had been overrun, so people died where they’d fallen, coughing up blood and seizing. No one—not even sanitation workers in hazmat suits—would touch the infected for fear of contracting the disease. Lieutenant Eli Cobb wrinkled his nose as he stepped wide of a pool of blood, making sure none of it came anywhere near his boots. The city had devolved so quickly, becoming a cesspool of death and fear in a matter of days. Sunlight glinted off the high rise beside him, once a university dorm, now the ghost of what had been. Eli raised his weapon, peering through the high-powered scope for any sign of movement.
“See anything?” Master Sergeant Cody Taggert matched Eli’s position, searching the lower floors of the building.
“Just shadows.” Eli lowered his rifle but kept his eyes on the street ahead. Movement meant human presence, but he never knew if the human was living or dying.
Cody fell in step beside him. “People are taking this quarantine seriously. We haven’t seen anyone outside in a couple of days.”
“They’re hiding.” As if staying indoors would protect them from a virus that seemed to spread at will, killing everything it touched. Eli had watched the news in horror. No one knew how it started. The news anchors tried to report facts, but they had few to go on. Conspiracy theories abounded. An international extremist terrorist group was blamed, then immigrants. Even aliens. Eli suspected domestic terrorism, but he had no proof.
The Denver hospitals filled up, and then the morgues. So far, the quarantine kept the disease confined, but the rest of the country lived in fear that it would get out. The Army had been sent in to reinforce the perimeter. They’d been trained in biohazard safety protocols, but that hadn’t stopped the virus from reducing their company to only four men out of one hundred fifty.
Cody coughed, and Eli scooted aside, raising his weapon to the man’s face in one swift movement.
“Just a throat scratch.” Cody slid back a step and held up his hands. “I’m not used to this dry air.”
Eli visually inspected Cody’s palms. No blood. He shook himself and nodded at Cody’s canteen. “Have a drink, Sergeant.” They both knew better than to share water or even touch another person’s bottle.
“Thank you, sir.”
Eli tried to place Cody’s accent for the hundredth time. Somewhere in the south, a much more humid climate than Denver’s parched atmosphere. Texas, maybe? He’d read the sergeant’s personnel file when Cody joined the company months ago, but the personal details slipped his mind.
“Over there.” Cody dropped his canteen and pointed his weapon past Eli’s shoulder.
Eli spun and raised his rifle, scanning the landscape for whatever the sergeant had spotted. Motion, a flash of white, long black hair, long brown legs. Human. “Halt!”
The woman skidded and tripped, catching herself on the corner of the concrete building. She stared at them, seeming to ponder her options. And then she ran toward them. “Help!”
Eli kept his rifle trained on her. “Don’t touch her. She may be infected.”
“Yes, sir.” Cody peered through his scope.
In his peripheral vision, Eli saw Cody’s finger twitch on the trigger. “Hold your fire.”
“Yeah, die a bloody awesome death. I’m game.”
Lab coat. She’s a doctor! She might be able to save them all. “Stop right there, ma’am.” Eli steadied his weapon. Wishful thinking.
She halted suddenly, her momentum pushing her forward another step as she raised her hands. “Don’t shoot.”
Cody advanced. “Are you infected?” The question had become standard procedure.
“What? No.” She looked almost insulted. “No! I’m immune.” She reached into her coat pocket.
“Hands where we can see them!” Eli shouted orders. “Drop the weapon!”
Eli cringed as Cody vaulted into action, driving her backward and pinning her against a column. He seized her wrist and slammed it against the unforgiving concrete, breaking her grasp.
“No!” she cried.
Reflexively, Eli reached out and caught the weapon she’d dropped. A syringe, needle capped, filled with a yellow solution. He held it in front of her eyes. “What is this? Drugs?” Or worse. “The virus?”
Her eyes narrowed, and she scowled at him. “It’s the cure.”
“The what?” Eli clutched the vial and held it close like a precious treasure.
Cody smirked. “Well, that’s new.” He stepped back and released her arm.
“The cure for the virus that’s killing everyone.” She rubbed her wrist. “I made it.”
“Are you sure?” Cody whispered as if afraid to speak hope out loud.
She nodded, her eyes bright, and Cody smiled back at her.
Eli wanted to believe her, but he needed proof. A hundred questions flooded his mind, all demanding answers now, so he started with the easiest one. “What’s your name?”
She w
inced, hesitating. “I’m Dr. Jones.”
She seemed evasive. Cody noticed it too. “Did she make that up?”
The doctor rolled her eyes. “I’m a university scientist, a virologist. I study viruses.” She explained the word as if they were idiots.
“Have you tested this on anyone yet?” Eli inspected the full syringe.
“Just Rizzo.” The men tensed as she slipped her hand into her other pocket and pulled out a white rat.
“He’s cute.” Cody reached out to tickle the rat’s whiskers, but Eli slapped a commanding hand on his arm.
“Don’t touch anything.” He didn’t trust the situation. A beautiful female scientist and her adorable rat offering the cure to this killer virus? Too good to be true. “We’ll take her back to base.” He released Cody and took the doctor by the arm.
She resisted him, pulling free. “I have to get to the hospital.”
Eli nodded at Cody, and the sergeant stepped behind the doctor, nudging her forward with the butt of his rifle. “Major Tucker will decide if you can go to the hospital.”
“I have to get there!” Her eyes turned shiny, but she didn’t cry. Instead, her voice hardened. “I made this cure to save people, and I’m going to do it whether your major agrees or not.”
“Procedure, ma’am.” Cody spoke up from behind them. “Go to the base with us, and then we’ll escort you to the hospital.”
Eli shot Cody a look over the doctor’s shoulder. Don’t make promises. Cody grinned back at him as she relaxed.
“All right. Take me to the base.”
“This way.” Eli turned his back to her, keeping the syringe in his possession while he led them to their makeshift base. Fuel supplies had dwindled, so they walked on patrol, saving the vehicles for an emergency. In these conditions, Eli really didn’t want to know what constituted an emergency.
Debris littered the street and the wind scattered trash as they walked by deserted buildings and burned out cars. Smoke seeped from a derailed light rail train. The fire department had been decimated by the virus, and fires had been left to smolder.