Mad World (Book 2): Sanctuary

by Provost, Samaire

  Jim and Jacob talked things over deep into the evening, and the next day we all agreed: we would join the Sanctuary team.

  ___

  Epilogue

  Fifteen years later

  Luke and Risa burst through the door and into the living room, startling us all.

  “We got it,” Luke said, waving an envelope in his hand. Risa went to sit next to Jonathan, and he took her hand as she settled in next to him on the couch.

  “All right,” I said, smiling at his enthusiasm. “Well, let’s see it.”

  Luke crossed the large room and handed me the envelope, then sat down next to me. His muscular 6-foot, 3-inch frame took up more than half the loveseat. I studied him for a minute. He wore blue jeans and a black T-shirt, and his light brown hair was short and tidy. He looked back at me with his hazel eyes and smiled confidently. I sighed. At twenty years old, he was a strong and happy young man, and the apple of my eye.

  “Are you sure you want to do this, Honey?” I asked.

  “Mom, yes. I’ve thought about it for a long time, and I think it’s the right thing to do. The whole world is suffering, and something has to happen,” he said. “Besides, I think my birth mother would have wanted me to.”

  “Holly sure would have been proud of you, I know that,” I said as I looked down at the envelope in my hands. It was address to me, and the return address indicated Boston, Massachusetts, USA. I sighed. We hadn’t been back to the United States in years. It was just too dangerous.

  It was 2032, and the zombie infection had spread pretty much across the globe. It had jumped from the North American continent to South America about thirteen years ago. It had only taken that long because of the air travel ban: Only military craft and a few planes specifically cleared for diplomatic or scientific missions were allowed to fly these days. But it hadn’t been enough. A year after it had taken hold in South America, in cropped up in Europe, Asia and Africa. Europe. Its old stomping grounds, where it had destroyed half the population seven hundred years ago.

  We and others in the Sanctuary network had fought to keep the zombies under control as best we could. But it was clear from the beginning that it would be a losing battle. Outbreaks were being reported everywhere; you couldn’t know where or when they would occur. The virus had mutated a dozen times, growing not only more virulent, but slowing its incubation period to spread farther from the point of contamination, facilitating as much exposure to the Yersinia Pestis bacterium as possible. The incubation period between infection and “the turning,” as we called it, was now anywhere from ten to fifteen days or more

  The infection was now a global killer, a complete and total disaster, the worst pandemic to have ever befallen the human race in its 200,000 years on this planet. The death toll had reached into the hundreds of millions, passing the billion mark and then doubling that. For the first time in the modern age, the population explosion had reversed itself. It was now more like an implosion.

  Most of the world had adopted a defensive posture, retreating to secluded communities that were patrolled around the clock and guarded vigilantly. Any outbreak was immediately eliminated. Some countries immediately quarantined any suspected infection; in others, those assumed to have contracted the disease were simply eliminated. It had been very hard to maintain order, and in some areas of the world, it had broken down completely. Here in Canada, and in the United States, the authorities had been able to maintain order, but just barely. Rioting still broke out from time to time in certain areas, and vigilante mobs roamed the streets, looking for zombies and those they thought might be infected. The west, from Washington to California, stretching all the way to Arizona, Nevada, Idaho and some parts of Montana, was a no-man’s land. The authorities had been forced to evacuate and retreat, and the only people who traveled there were heavily armed and in groups of at least ten. Even then, there was no guarantee of survival. Only about 65 percent of those who entered the Western territory managed to return alive.

  The infection had not completely saturated the Midwest and Eastern states, but the odds were against you even there if you weren’t heavily armed and didn’t have plenty of backup. We had ventured down into Minnesota, Wisconsin and Michigan many times to help bring people to safety, but it had been hairy. We’d lost many good people in skirmishes from North Dakota all the way to New York and beyond.

  Last year had brought word that a professor of genetics at Harvard University had come upon a serum that might be able to kill the Y. Pestis bacterium in an infected victim - without killing the person. It was easy to kill the bacterium if you didn’t mind killing the person along with it. Trials had been under way in every First World country for decades. Lab volunteers would test vaccines and then, after exposure, become infected and die. Or scientists would try one antidote after another on infected, subdued individuals who hadn’t turned. Some of the attempts failed utterly, and some of them succeeded … only to cause side effects that killed the patient hours later.

  It was so bad that some scientists had just given up, abandoned their labs and fled. This particular professor, a Doctor Arthur Carroway, had been working for 17 years to find a solution. He’d suffered several setbacks through the years, but he kept pushing forward.

  Last year, his serum had shown some positive results. The word was that he was very close, but he needed a living biological specimen that had conquered the infection. He needed a human being who had been infected and not turned. Unfortunately, so far the infection had a one hundred percent death rate. Animals were not an option, as in other diseases. All trials with animals had failed to produce a Y. Pestis antitoxin serum that worked in humans.

  When we had heard this news, we all sat down and discussed it. Luke was a zombie-human hybrid who had been born from his mother just as she had turned. She had been at full term when she was infected. Luke had been born alive and well, a normal boy in every sense of the word.

  Except he wasn’t. His skin was light grey in places - not as dark as a fully turned zombie’s, but definitely different from the normal color a Caucasian male should display. It had made for an interesting life for Luke so far. Childhood had been a time of constant vigilance. We always had to make sure we applied enough makeup to cover it, to hide his condition from others. Here in our compound, he had been safe. When he ventured away from home, he’d been disguised and with friends. Protected.

  Another way Luke was definitely not normal? Zombies ignored him. To me, he smelled like a normal person, but to the zombies, he smelled like them, or something very close.

  Zombies were guided by their senses of smell and hearing. Their eyesight sucked. But Luke had been near zombies many times, in one case a foot away from them, and they never treated him like prey. They completely ignored him, and in fact seemed to treat him as one of their own.

  These were two ways Luke was unique. And then, there was the third difference. The difference we hadn’t discovered until he was 12 years old and wrestling with Jacob in the backyard one afternoon. Luckily, Jacob hadn’t been seriously hurt, just bruised up a bit.

  Luke was strong. Wicked strong. This, it turned out, was another hallmark of being a zombie hybrid. The zombies themselves were extraordinarily strong. In fact, we joked that if they knew how strong they really were and rushed us in a fight; we’d lose a heck of a lot more people. Something like that had happened to Risa and me at the water tower, many years ago now. But it didn’t happen often. Luckily, for the most part, zombies appeared to operate on instinct rather than intellect. In general, they seemed to be pretty stupid creatures.

  Luke was not quite as strong as a zombie, but close. Arm-wrestle him? Be careful, he could break your arm. Wrestling? He could break your leg. Easily.

  As a result of all this, Luke had grown up a very gentle boy. He had become very aware of his strength, and he’d been horrified when he’d hurt Jake wrestling when he was 12. He was especially careful with me, giving me such gentle, tender hugs so he wouldn’t ever hurt me. We wer
e especially close, and I think he would have just died if he had inadvertently hurt me, if anything had happened to me at all, really.

  We had decided to contact Doctor Carroway at Harvard University, to ask him if we could help, and what would happen to Luke if he took part in the trials. It was a delicate process. We needed to be sure we wouldn’t endanger Luke by exposing him to some Frankenstein from the CDC

  We had fled the United States because CDC officials had wanted to use Luke in experiments they hoped would lead to an antidote for the Plague infection. They’d planned to kill and dissect Luke, and they didn’t have the faintest idea what they were doing. They’d just wanted to poke blindly into science and see what they could find. Understandably, we wanted none of that.

  Then, there were logistics to consider. It was no simple matter to get a message out in this chaotic zombie age. The entire global mail system had broken down shortly after the outbreak. The Internet had been hacked and couldn’t be trusted as a secure channel of communication. Most servers in overrun areas simply didn’t function anymore. Everything was done by private couriers who took their lives in their hands just for the sake of delivering a simple message.

  When the doctor replied to our inquiry via courier a few weeks later, he had told us he’d only need some of Luke’s blood – but we couldn’t just send it to him. There was no way to make sure it would be secure and uncontaminated by the time it got there.

  It seemed, however, that helping this scientist just might be worth the risk. Dr. Carroway already had eliminated all but three possible serums; he was confident one of them would work. Once he found out which one was successful, he assured us, he could easily synthesize the serum. He needed three vials of blood from Luke, to create the anti-toxin serum. That was all. Luke would be okay; he wouldn’t even be hurt - just weak for a day or two until his body replenished the blood that was taken.

  Of course, it sounded almost too good to be true. So we’d been exchanging letters with Dr. Carroway, who had explained the entire process and had kept our secret. This had been going on for over six months. He had slowly gained our trust. No authorities had traced us, no one had come forward to say he was a nutcase, and everyone we contacted for references had sent glowing remarks about him. “Brilliant” was a word often used. “Dedicated.” “Humane.” “Caring.” “Hopeful.” “Gifted.” “Groundbreaking.” And it went on and on.

  We felt good about it. My gut told me to trust this guy, that this might just work. Jacob had agreed, as had DeAndre, Caitlyn, Risa and Jonathan. And Luke, most importantly of all. It was Luke’s decision.

  The risks of course, would be in traveling to the scientist’s lab in Boston. Last month he had agreed to trials with Luke and promised no harm would come to him, either as a result of the experiments or from the authorities, who were still searching for Luke.

  The letter that had arrived today contained the confirmation and instructions we needed. All we had to do was acknowledge the letter with a tentative arrival time.

  Well.

  I looked up from reading the letter to see six pairs of eyes staring at me expectantly. Smiling, I said, “Well, he says here that it’s a go!”

  They all cheered. Luke jumped up and “WOOPED!” fist-pumping the air in happiness.

  “Hold on now, son,” Jacob said. Luke settled down and looked at his father.

  “There’s still the matter of arranging to get there,” Jacob said. “It will be an extremely dangerous journey, and will take a week or more, depending on what trouble we encounter. And I promise you, with the way things are today, there will be huge trouble. Zombie trouble.”

  “It will be ridiculously dangerous,” DeAndre said. “Which is why I think we should all accompany him.”

  “Well, of course,” I said. “I would want it any other way.”

  “You have to go with protection, Luke,” Risa said. “We’ll be your bodyguards.”

  “Guarding the hope of the world,” Caitlyn said, smiling at Luke.

  “Buddy, we have your back,” Jonathan said. “The whole way through. Just like it’s always been.”

  “Then we just have to decide when,” Luke said.

  ___

  In the final analysis, Luke didn’t want to wait any longer. It was decided that we would leave at dawn the next morning.

  We all met in the front hall with our equipment, each of us with two firearms and a backup blade. We each had a duffel bag and a backpack. We had food and water, enough for a week, should we need it.

  “I’ll always feel the most comfortable with this shotgun on my back,” I laughed as I slung it into its rear holster.

  “Oh, I know,” said Risa. “I love my sawed-off.” She patted it in its sling.

  “Ready, Luke?” Jacob asked as Luke descended the staircase.

  “Absolutely, Dad,” he said.

  Everyone was ready, so we headed out.

  We had picked up a new SUV the year before. It was black and equipped with off-roading tires and reinforced windows. I climbed into the driver’s seat and buckled myself in. Looking behind me, I said, “This could be rougher than anything we’ve gone through before. It’s farther, and we’re going to pass through some heavily infected areas.” They nodded. “We will need to stay alert, and we will need each person’s skills. Every one of us will be an essential part of the team.” I started the vehicle. “Ready?” I asked.

  As I pulled down the drive I heard from the back~

  “Yes.”

  “Yep.”

  “Always.”

  Yes, Alyssa.”

  Yes, Mom.”

  Yes, Babe.” That one was Jacob. I smiled at him. He winked at me from the right front seat. Always my right-hand man. I laughed.

  “Okay then, we’re off,” I said.

  Winnipeg had become something of a war zone itself. There had been outbreaks of Plague through the city for many years. The latest had been reported just a week ago. You never knew when one would occur, or where.

  We drove south through the city and were soon on Pembina Highway. Cruising along like this made me feel like it was old times. I was 38 years old, and in some ways I felt younger. I was still in great shape, thanks to chasing zombies and fighting for my life on a regular basis; I still wore combat boots and now wore a black leather jacket (it kept me warmer during the cold Winnipeg winters). But in some ways I felt older. I took longer to react than I had when I was 17, when this mess all started. I was more sore after a fight, and I took longer to heal, as well. But I still think I was in tip-top shape. Well, at least for a 38-year-old lady. I grinned to myself.

  “What’s that grin for, Gorgeous?” Jake asked.

  “Oh, nothing,” I said. “I’m just thinking I still feel in shape and ready for anything.”

  “Alyssa, you fight like a pro,” he said. “Best in the whole crew.” He rubbed my arm.

  I glanced back at Luke. I was very proud of the man he’d become. Jacob and I had taught him to fight, and he was more adept than either of us. And he could handle his shotgun like he had been born with it.

  I sighed. I had a good feeling about this trip. It was going to go smoothly, I could feel it. …

  I shouldn’t have let down my guard. That’s when stuff happens.

  I should’ve known.

  We were cruising along and had just passed the Trans-Canada Highway when it happened.

  All of a sudden a car came flying out from the left-hand side. It ran the stop sign at Cartier Road just as we hit the intersection. Fortunately, it just grazed us. I managed to keep the SUV under control and pulled over.

  Putting the vehicle in park, I turned around to look at the others. “Anybody hurt?”

  “No, I think we’re all okay,” DeAndre said. “That car just scraped us.”

  “Yes, we’re fine, Alyssa,” said Risa.

  “Oh, man!” Jonathan said, looking out the back window.

  The car had flipped more than once and skidded down an embankment; now smoke was c
urling up from it.

  “I’ll get the fire extinguisher,” Jacob said grimly.

  We all piled out and ran back along the road. The vehicle that had hit us was about ten car lengths behind us, and we were joined by other people who had pulled over when they saw the crash. A few came running from nearby businesses.

  “Is he okay?”

  “How many people are in there?”

  “I think I saw three.”

  It had tumbled down into a marshy area, and my boots made splooshing sounds as I ran on the wet ground. Jacob and Luke were right behind me with the fire extinguisher. DeAndre, Caitlyn, Risa and Jonathan were not far behind.

  We all ran up to the car. It was upside down. I could hear moaning coming from inside. Another man was already there on the ground, hands in front, head down.

  “Hey, are you guys okay?” he asked.

  “Noooo…” came the reply.

  The man looked up at us. “There are two of them, and I think they’re trapped.”

  “I’ll call the fire department,” said someone in the crowd.

  Fire was curling up from the underside engine compartment.

  “Oh, no!” someone said.

  Jacob brought out the extinguisher and pulled the key on it.

  “Stand back,” he said, and began spraying the fire. It was out in just a few seconds.

  Everyone seemed relieved.

  “Great job, bringing that,” someone said.

  I looked out into the crowd. There must have been eight or nine people gathered there, and our group was seven, making about fifteen people standing next to the car on sopping wet ground in the early morning fog.

  “Did you call the fire department?” I asked the woman who’d said she would.

  “Yes, they’re on their way,” she said.

  “Did you know to tell them where we were?” I asked.