Pale Horse (A Project Eden Thriller)

by Battles, Brett

  When Keller said nothing more, Daniel realized his boss had hung up. He stared at the receiver, feeling very much like he was missing something. Finally, he put it down, and walked back out into the store to see if anyone had shown up. It was as empty as it had been before.

  Even more surprising, there were no customers waiting outside the door. They always had customers who liked to get their holiday shopping done first thing in the morning. There should have been at least a dozen or more people peering through the window, wondering why the store was still closed.

  He walked over to the main door, turned the lock, and stepped outside. Not only was there no one waiting, there were no pedestrians on the sidewalk at all. A few cars sped by, but at this time of the morning, the street should have been jammed.

  Back inside, he made his way to Mrs. Norris’s desk. The bookkeeper’s small office was just a few doors down from his. There, on the credenza behind her chair, was the radio she liked to listen to while she worked. He turned it on.

  As always, it was tuned to BBC Radio 1, but instead of Chris Moyles, the usual morning host, one of the news anchors was talking.

  “…what steps to take. There has been no claim of responsibility, and most authorities around the world are unwilling to speculate.”

  Claim of responsibility? Had there been another terrorist attack? Maybe even here in the city?

  “As a reminder,” the anchor went on, “the Home Office has asked that residents in London and all other major cities remain at home today, and off the streets. This is a voluntary order at this point, but we are told that could change at any moment. If you’re in the vicinity of what you believe to be one of the suspicious containers, you are advised to find shelter at least a mile from it, then report the container’s location to local authorities. We will, of course, give you the latest information as it comes in.

  “Right now we have a report from Russell MacLean in Edinburgh, where army special forces are attempting to disable one of the containers.”

  The sterile-sounding environment of the broadcast studio was replaced by the sound of wind and heavy equipment. “I’m here just outside the center of Edinburgh, where one of the devices seen around the world was discovered yesterday near a building that was undergoing restoration. Throughout the night, army officials…”

  Daniel didn’t even bother turning the radio off as he ran out of Mrs. Norris’s office. He could hear the reporter in Scotland droning on, but the words no longer sunk in. He had to get home, away from the store. His branch of Marker’s was located not far from Soho, an area he was sure would be a target for terrorists. His apartment, by contrast, was in a working-class residential neighborhood on the edge of the city, where it was surely safer.

  He stopped just long enough to grab his jacket from his office, and raced out of the store, almost forgetting to lock the door as he left. His anxiousness stayed with him all the way to the Underground station, and throughout his mostly solo ride home.

  As he climbed back to street level just a few blocks from his building, he finally allowed himself to relax. Soon he would be in the comfort and safety of his apartment, where he could sit in front of his television and get a proper sense of what was going on.

  As he walked down the block, he felt moisture land on his face and hands. Clouds had been hanging over the city for days, but so far there had been no rain. It looked like today was going to be different.

  Once he was in his apartment watching the news, he never thought to look out his window. If he had, he might have seen that the clouds were far too thin to hold much water at all.

  Of course, by then, he had forgotten all about the drops that had fallen on him.

  18

  MUMBAI, INDIA

  1:28 PM INDIAN STANDARD TIME

  IT HAD TAKEN Sanjay much longer than he anticipated to get to the building where his cousin had lain dying a few days before. The area was nearly surrounded by men spraying the streets with Pishon Chem’s deadly mixture.

  He wasn’t worried about the vaccine not working. If that were the case, there would be nothing he could do about it, and he and Kusum would die like everyone else. What did concern him was unintentionally carrying the spray back to the others, and making them sick before he could inoculate them.

  So he’d had to work his way around until he found a path that had yet to be sprayed, and then headed straight for the building. Only a few of the food vendors and shops that usually crowded Gamdevi Road were open, and most had no customers.

  Sanjay’s stomach growled, urging him to stop for a bite of whatever he could find. But he knew he couldn’t risk it. What if the person working the stand had been exposed to the spray? Would he transfer it to the food, or even to his customers directly? Sanjay would just have to stay hungry.

  He cut through the lighter-than-usual traffic, then turned off the road and drove right up to the building, parking his bike near the main door. His previous visit had been late at night, and he’d been forced to climb up to the rear balcony to the second-floor restaurant just to get in. But now, being the middle of the day, the front door was open.

  In the lobby, a fat man in a tight suit sat behind a desk.

  “May I help you?” he said.

  Sanjay had not expected to have to deal with anyone. He hesitated for a moment before saying, “I’m with Pishon Chem. I’ve been sent to pick up something downstairs.”

  “They’re all gone. No one is here.”

  “Yes, I realize that,” Sanjay said, knowing that probably meant Ayush was dead. “Only picking up.” He paused, then added, “Mr. Dettling sent me.” Dettling was one of the European managers at Pishon Chem, and had been one of Sanjay’s bosses.

  “Mr. Dettling?” the man said.

  “Yes. I’m sure you know him.”

  “Of course. Go ahead, then, but when you go back, tell Mr. Dettling he needs to send people to clean up. The rooms are unacceptable as they are now.”

  “I will be sure to let him know.”

  Sanjay skirted around the desk, and over to the door that led into the hallway running behind the elevators. A moment later he opened the door to the basement and raced down the stairs. If the people who had been there were truly gone, then it was unlikely he’d find more vaccine, but he had to check.

  The door to the basement rooms Pishon Chem had been using was locked. He knocked, hoping there was someone present he could try to bluff his way past, but the door stayed closed.

  He glanced down the hallway, his gaze zeroing in on the doorless room where he hid on his previous visit. Though it had been dark inside, he’d had the sense it was some kind of maintenance closet.

  He ran to it, and felt along the inner wall for a light switch. When his fingers brushed against it, he flipped it on, and a weak bulb hanging from the ceiling lit up. Indeed, it was a maintenance closet. A couple of buckets, mops, brooms, cleaning supplies. There was also a chest of drawers that contained tools—wrenches, screwdrivers, and, best of all, a hammer.

  He grabbed the last, returned to the door, and pounded at the wood until the locks finally gave way. The door swung open with a shove.

  He moved quickly down the hallway to the room at the end where his cousin had been kept.

  When he entered, he immediately could see why the man upstairs had wanted Pishon to come back. Everything was in disarray. Tables overturned, wiring and tubing on the floor, boxes of bandages and gauze and latex gloves thrown haphazardly around. The plastic wall that had divided the room in two was open in the middle, and the beds beyond, where Ayush and the others on his team had lain dying, were empty.

  Sanjay stared for a moment at his cousin’s bed, then shook himself out of it. He couldn’t think about Ayush now. The living needed him. He could deal with the dead later.

  The front half of the room, the part he was in, was where he’d previously found the nurses, and where he’d obtained the vaccine that he’d taken himself and given to Kusum.

  He tried to remem
ber exactly which of the cabinets along the wall it had been stored in.

  The…center one.

  The doors to all the cabinets hung open, the shelves inside mostly empty, their contents pushed to the floor. As he started going through everything, he already knew what he would find.

  Nothing.

  He grunted in frustration.

  Returning to Kusum and her family without the vaccine was not an option. He was the only one standing between them and death. He had to get it.

  He thought for a moment. There was one more place he could check. If the vaccine was anywhere, it would be there.

  “What’s going on here?” The man who’d been sitting upstairs stepped into the room. “What happened? The door is broken!”

  “Sorry,” Sanjay said as he pushed past the man.

  “Sorry? Sorry?” the man said, waddling after him. “You have to fix that! You have to pay!”

  “Pishon Chem will take care of it.”

  “Wait! You will stay here until I talk to them.”

  Sanjay rushed past the broken door into the common corridor.

  “Wait!” the man called out, his voice growing farther away. “Wait!”

  Sanjay didn’t.

  __________

  THE CAR KUSUM’S father had planned on using belonged to a man who owned a small shop about a kilometer away. Kusum’s father had done some work there on and off, and knew the man hid the car keys under the dash near the steering column.

  “I should not be gone more than an hour,” he said. “I will push the horn three times. When you hear it, come down.”

  “No,” Kusum said. “We all go.”

  “This is not up to you.”

  “I’m not trying to fight you. We should go together. It will be faster. You and I can carry Panna and Darshan. Jabala and mother can help masi.”

  Her tone was forceful and direct in a way she would have never spoken to her father before. But now was not a time to worry about what was appropriate. She kept her eyes locked on his, knowing he wanted to argue the point and put her back in her place, but instead he frowned and looked away.

  “If you are all coming with me, why are you just sitting there?” he said.

  They gathered what food they could carry, then left the apartment, not knowing when or if they would ever return. As they neared the end of the alley, Kusum’s father set Darshan down, and moved ahead to look around the corner and make sure the area hadn’t been sprayed.

  After a moment, he waved at them. “Come on.”

  From that point on, he and Kusum would take turns scouting each intersection to make sure they were clear. Luck stayed with them until they were only three blocks from where the car was parked. That’s when they saw some of the men spraying the road.

  Panna, riding on Kusum’s back, started shaking. Though she and her brother had not been in the room when Sanjay told his story, they’d overheard enough of the conversation between Kusum and her parents as they were walking to know there was something wrong about the men holding the sprayers.

  “Don’t worry,” Kusum whispered. “We won’t go near them.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “I’m sure.”

  Panna fell silent, but she continued to shake.

  Kusum’s father studied the area for several seconds, then turned to his family and said, “This way.”

  Unlike Sanjay, who’d been able to find an untainted path to the building across town, the way to the car turned out to be completely blocked by the spray.

  “What are we going to do now?” Kusum’s mother asked.

  “Let me think,” her husband said.

  “Think about what? We use another car,” Kusum told them.

  “What car?” her father said.

  She swept out her hand, taking in the whole street. “Any car. We just need to get away.”

  Her mother looked uncomfortable, but instead of voicing her concern, she remained silent.

  “We can’t just take any car,” her father countered. “We must be able to start it, and we must be able to get away before anyone notices.”

  One that started, yes, but Kusum didn’t care if anyone noticed. As long as it would carry them, that’s all that mattered.

  For the first time since they’d left home, her great aunt spoke. “What about a taxi?” She gestured at two cabs parked along the side of the road in front of a restaurant. Each was empty.

  “We don’t have enough money for a taxi,” Kusum’s father said.

  “Who said anything about paying?” Kusum’s masi said.

  Kusum looked at both taxis again, then set Panna down. After telling the girl to hold on to Jabala’s hand, she headed across the road.

  “Kusum?” her mother called out.

  Kusum batted a hand at her, telling her to be quiet, and kept going. When she reached the other side of the street, she walked past each cab, glancing through the driver’s-side windows. The keys to the second cab, the one in back, were just visible on the floor in front of the seat.

  She glanced into the restaurant. There were two men at a table near the middle. They were the only customers, and their eyes were glued to a television on a shelf near the back. She was sure they were the drivers.

  Looking back at her father, she motioned to the second cab, and moved her hand in front of her mouth in a broad gesture she hoped they’d understand to mean they needed to be quiet as they entered the vehicle. After her father nodded, she walked into the restaurant, and passed the table with the two men. There she stopped and looked up at the TV. The news was the same as it had been before, so while she pretended to pay attention, she wasn’t really listening.

  Out of the corner of her eye, she could see her family approach the taxi.

  “Have they found anything here?” she asked, not having to fake a concerned tone.

  One of the drivers looked at her, then back at the TV. “Nothing yet.”

  “You think they will?”

  “I hope not.”

  A sound from the back of the restaurant caused her to look over. A woman wearing an apron and carrying two bottles of beer came out through a door and walked toward the occupied table. Kusum quickly repositioned herself to block the woman’s view of the cabs out front. The woman set the beers down, and looked at Kusum.

  “Sit wherever you want. I’ll be back in a moment,” she said.

  “I’m, uh, just watching the TV.”

  A moment of displeasure crossed the woman’s lips, but she shrugged and hurried back the way she’d come. Just before she passed through the kitchen door and out of sight, the woman coughed twice, deep and wet.

  Kusum stared after her, momentarily frozen in place. She turned back toward the street, searching for any of the sheen from the spray, but there was none. Maybe the woman just had a cold.

  Or maybe, Kusum thought, she passed through an area that had been sprayed on her way to the restaurant.

  Kusum glanced at the taxi and saw that everyone was inside. Her father gave her a quick wave and a nod from the driver’s seat, indicating they were ready. As casually as she could, she stepped back until she was no longer in the men’s direct view. She then turned and hurried to the cab.

  Jabala, in the front passenger seat, had left enough room for Kusum to squeeze in beside her. As Kusum reached the open door, her father turned the ignition.

  “Go!” she yelled as she jumped in next to her sister.

  Her father shoved the vehicle into gear and hit the gas.

  “Hey!” One of the men in the restaurant jumped out of his seat. “Hey! Come back! That’s my taxi!”

  “Faster! Faster!” Kusum urged her father, sure the two drivers would get into the other cab and chase them down.

  Her father turned from road to road, trying to mask their path. Whether it was because of that, or because the two men never left the restaurant, Kusum didn’t know, but after several minutes it was clear no one was following them.

  “Which way now?” her fat
her asked.

  “Northeast,” she told him. “Out of the city.”

  __________

  THE AREA AROUND the Pishon Chem compound had not yet been sprayed. Perhaps they were saving it for the end, Sanjay thought. Or perhaps the managers were worried that even though they’d been vaccinated, the disease might still affect them.

  Sanjay parked near the gate that led to the dormitories many of the workers, including him, had been using. As usual, there was a guard at the gate, a local, but not one Sanjay had seen before.

  “Private property,” the man said as Sanjay approached. “You cannot enter.”

  “I work for the company,” Sanjay told him. “For Pishon Chem. I’m one of the coordinators. I have something I must talk to Mr. Dettling about.”

  As with the man at the building, the use of an actual manager’s name caused the guard to relax. “Do you have your ID card?”

  Every employee had been issued one. It had been a point of pride among the men. Sanjay did indeed have his ID in his pocket, but he was concerned all the guards had been given his name and told to detain him if he ever showed up.

  “Of course I have one,” Sanjay said. “But things were so busy this morning, I left it in the dormitory. I can bring it to you when I leave.”

  Though he was using all the right terms, he could see the guard was still hesitant to let him through.

  “You understand how important today is, I am sure,” Sanjay said. “Any delay could cause major problems, and if you do not let me go see Mr. Dettling, there will be delays. Do you want this to be your fault?”

  “Maybe I should call him.”

  “Please, do it. Whatever will make this go faster.”

  “Your name?”

  Sanjay gave him the name of one of the other coordinators, and the man disappeared inside the little hut that served as his only shelter from the sun. Sanjay could hear him on the phone, and knew before the man returned that the ploy had worked.

  “Okay,” the guard said. “You know where to go?”

  “Of course.”

  “Mr. Dettling said he will be in the conference room.”