“Did you walk all the way from Carterville?” she asked incredulously.
“Ha. We tried to drive,” Daniels replied, still angry at the ambush. “But the minute we went through a gap in the force field, the damn thing came back on again.”
Marcia brought her hand to her mouth, clearly shocked. “Jesus. And you survived?”
“Miraculously, we’ve only suffered a few bumps and bruises,” Alayna said, giving Ralph reassuring smile.
“Well, you shouldn’t have lived through that,” Marcia said softly. “It’s remarkable you did. It shows incredible courage.”
The survivors didn’t bother to answer. Their minds were numb. But Clay had questions, and the two scientists had the answers.
“Why didn’t you take Leland with you?” Clay asked, setting his empty water bottle on a desk. He crossed his arms over his chest, like a parent waiting for a childish excuse.
Lane spun toward Clay, an apology on her lips. “It was that woman. Lois Washington.”
“The mayor?” Alayna asked warily.
“Yes. She told us to move to Helen, a week before the outbreak,” Lane explained.
“Jesus. Lois knew about this? She—she knew, and then used that . . . asteroid as a cover-up . . .” Clay stammered, leaning heavily against a desk.
Lois had been his boss for years; a woman he and the rest of the town of Carterville had turned to for support and reassurance. He remembered her glittering, eagle eyes, her fine features. How could such deceit lurk behind her facade?
“That’s right,” Lane agreed. “She definitely knew about the DoD project.”
“But that’s not all.” Marcia continued, “Once they arrived here in Helen, she and Colonel Wallace began to separate those who were showing symptoms from healthy people. They knew it was going to get worse, and they were trying to get ahead of it. Kind of like, say, concentration camps. From World War II.”
“Jesus,” Clay whispered. “What did they do with them?”
“First off, they rounded up anyone confirmed to have the infection, what was the term you used?” Lane asked.
“The crazed,” Clay replied.
“Well, that sounds appropriate. They put all the crazed in the back of large container trucks and sent them south, toward Dearing I think,” Marcia said. “Then, anyone starting to show symptoms, but hadn’t turned yet. Those who seemed to have no hope, well, they sent them south too. Not sure where, though.”
“Most likely to Dearing,” Lane said.
“And what about the others? The people with no symptoms?” Alayna asked, hopeful. “Where’d they go?”
“They were sent north. To a military base, up near Earlton,” Lane said.
Clay and Alayna glanced at each other, both realizing that they might have just discovered the answer to where Megan, Valerie, and Maia were.
“Do you—do you know anything about a girl named Megan?” Alayna asked then. “Megan Holt? She’s beautiful, a resident of Carterville, around my age—”
Marcia and Lane shook their heads sadly.
“What about my family?” Clay asked. “Valerie and Maia Dobbs. A teenage girl with a woman around my age. Did you see anyone like that?”
“We mostly kept to the lab,” Lane said quietly, her eyes dropping to the ground. “We didn’t want to risk being contaminated ourselves. Plus, we couldn’t be shipped off to the military base.”
“Not even for your safety?” Alayna asked.
“There’s no telling if it’s safer than here,” Marcia said. “This a global catastrophe. All the rules are out the window. We have to make it up as we go along.”
“Wait—” Clay said, raising a finger. The voicemails from Valerie were never far from his mind. “I received a call from my wife. She was here, in Helen. She said that she and our daughter were split up, and that our daughter might have the flu.”
After a pause, Lane said, “Sounds about right. That’s why they were separated, then. The people with flu-like symptoms went south. And your wife, well, it sounds like she went north.”
“Jesus,” Clay gasped, sinking into a chair. His stomach churned with anxiety. His baby. His Maia. She was alone, trapped, maybe warding off other crazed monsters all the way down in Dearborn. His shoulders began to shake.
All the way to Helen, he’d clung to this hope: that he’d learn his daughter and wife’s whereabouts when he arrived. But he hadn’t expected such devastating news. Not after he’d been through so much already.
Chapter 11
Clay erupted from his chair, pushed past Daniels and unlatched the door. His thoughts were churning with panic and despair. He needed to go, run, find his family. There were tears on his cheeks. Tears of anger at Lois Washington, the woman who was supposed to protect them. And of anger at himself. He’d stayed behind, to help in Carterville. He should have gone with Valerie and Maia. Carterville was no more, most of its residents were either crazed or dead.
And he still couldn’t be certain about Maia and Valerie.
“Fuck,” Clay shouted, darting out the door. Daniels snagged Clay’s jacket, yanking him back. “Let me go, Adam!” he cried. “I’ve got to get out.” He began to hyperventilate. “Jesus Christ. Just let go of me. Haven’t I done enough?”
But Daniels held Clay firmly and slammed the door shut. Clay dropped to his knees, suddenly exhausted. He searched for any meaning in all of this.
Alayna bent down in front of him and cupped his cheeks. Her hands were cool, and oddly soothing.
“Shh,” she whispered. “You can’t do this. You’ll destroy yourself. Mentally—emotionally—physically. And we need you, Clay.”
The other survivors formed a half-circle around them, looking down anxiously, their eyes brimming with worry and dust from the road.
“I want to run out there, too,” Alayna said. “I want to find Megan just as much as you want to find your family. But without something to go on—without a plan—it might very well be suicide.”
“So, you want to give up?” Clay said, his voice raspy. “Because it might be unsafe out there?”
“No. We’re going to stay here long enough to replenish our supplies, find more ammunition, and, most of all, rest, Clay,” Alayna said in a quiet voice.
“We don’t really know what’s beyond Helen, anyway,” Marcia interjected. “We know Helen’s safe. There aren’t many of the crazed, just a few that get past the military’s perimeter. But leaving without being prepared would be foolish.”
“I agree,” Lane said, her eyes sympathetic. “And I’m sorry. I really am.” She shrugged her thin shoulders, dwarfed by her massive lab coat.
Jacobs pointed to another room, which held most of the lab’s equipment. A blue light was strobing, casting flickering shadows. “What experiments could you possibly by doing right now, anyway?” he asked.
Marcia and Lane exchanged a look. Clay stood. His cheeks were flushed, with panic and with shame. He pushed his hair back, grateful it was no longer thinning like it had been a few weeks before. He’d kept up with the medication for radiation poisoning, reducing his symptoms.
“Well, I suppose they’ll have to see it at some point,” Marcia began, speaking to Lane.
“The back rooms are where we keep the supplies. The food. The beds,” Lane said, her eyes flashing. “But you’ll have to walk past our most recent round of experiments. And you might want to hold your breath. Especially if you have a weak stomach.”
Ralph said, “Lady, we’ve been out there murdering these monsters right and left. I don’t think I’ll ever get their stench out of my coat.” He lifted his stump. “I even shot my best friend, on accident. But, we’re closer because of it. I don’t think we’ll be alarmed by any little hoity-toity experiment you’re doing in here.”
Clay stifled laughter. Alayna pressed her lips together. Lane led them into the second room, past the blue light. On the tables, the survivors witnessed a disgusting sight. Something they weren’t ready for, despite the warnings.
/> Crazed humans were restrained on tables, a number of them partially vivisected. Their greying hearts and lungs were exposed to the light, glistening horribly. Some had their arms cut off, others no longer had legs. Across the room, jars holding assorted organs were scattered on a table.
Alayna covered her mouth and nose, trying to block out the stench. Ralph and Brandon both turned away. Clay was trying not to look at the faces of the crazed humans, knowing there was a chance he might recognize any one of them. If they’d come up from Carterville, he might very well find an ex-neighbor or an old friend.
Jacobs, however, showed intense interest. He walked around the bodies, skimming the notes about each one. “I see,” he murmured. “You were trying to get to the cause of the infection.”
“That’s right,” Lane said. She was clearly acclimated to the stench. A part of her everyday routine. “We ran just about every test that we could think of. Took volumes of blood samples. Looked at their stool samples.”
“We even studied their dental progressions,” Marcia said. “It appears their mouths completely change after their transformation.”
“Fascinating,” Jacobs whispered. He snapped latex gloves on his hands, and pushed open a crazed woman’s mouth. He peered in, his eyes widening. “Jesus. She almost has fangs—”
“That’s right,” Lane sounded oddly excited. “But we haven’t been successful in finding a cause, or a cure, unfortunately. It seems to be irreversible.”
“Well, I’m here now,” Jacobs said, his eyes intense. “There’s bound to be something you haven’t thought of. Something we can test for . . .” He trailed off, his mind humming. Marcia and Lane joined him near the body, leaving the rest hovering against the wall, wishing for a way out.
Brandon joined Clay, his eyes watery. “Dude. She said Helen’s clear of the monsters, right?”
Nonplussed by Jacobs’ reaction to the experiments, Clay nodded. “Yeah, she did,” he said.
“Well, then, let’s get the fuck out of here,” Brandon said. “Let’s find something real to eat.”
“I think we should stay down here,” Clay said hesitantly. “They said they have food down here—”
But Brandon objected. “No. I don’t want to eat another goddamned granola bar. I want something real and hot and good. There’s bound to be a place around here that’s stocked up. You know, the way the Carterville hotel was.”
Clay tore his eyes away from the scientist and looked at his companions, noting that they were all stooped, their eyes dark and hollow. They were clearly malnourished, they’d left the hotel some time ago. He cleared his throat.
“Gang?” he said. “Let’s go find some grub.”
Lane gave him a warm smile. She broke off her scientific, lab-talk, and pointed toward the door. “You know, there’s a great café across the street.”
Brandon’s smile widened, showing his candy-coated teeth. “You heard the woman, Clay,” he said. “I’m going to eat at that café if it’s the last thing I do.”
Clay patted his back and followed him up the steps and out into the darkness. When the door of the candy shop closed behind them, everyone—including the scientists—inhaled the fresh mountain air deeply, grateful to leave the putrid stench behind.
Chapter 12
The café was a local place, not a franchise, with diner-like booths, different colored lamps on the walls, and a long, thin mirror wrapping around the dining room. Clay felt immediately at home there, reminded of all the dinners he’d had with his wife and daughter at the Carterville diner. Maia always ordered a grilled cheese, his wife, a burger, choosing to nibble both his and Maia’s fries. He shivered at the memory, suddenly craving a massive meal.
Brandon and Ralph bolted for the kitchen, with the scientists following close behind. Clay heard Ralph muttering something about biscuits and gravy, as it was easy, and could fill up the whole troop.
Clay followed a moment later, finding the two scientists looking stunned. “Why didn’t we ever think to make that?” Lane joked, tapping Ralph on the back.
Marcia laughed. “We needed people around. Otherwise, we were going to keep eating the same four things until we died.”
The survivors helped each other, with Ralph running the show. He made homemade biscuits, using whole-grain flour and stirring with his left hand, impressing everyone with his one-handed skills. One of the scientists flipped on the radio. They heard music for the first time in what felt like years. It was an ‘80s song, one from Clay’s youth. He closed his eyes and leaned back against a cabinet, remembering Valerie whistling the tune to herself as she drove in the car.
Would he ever hear her melody again?
Thirty minutes later, Brandon and Daniels shoved several tables together and set out silverware. Alayna collected some fake flowers from the back and arranged them in coffee cups, dotting them between the plates. Ralph brought out a vat of sausage gravy, and Jacobs followed him out with a large tray of biscuits. They portioned out the meal quickly, and then everyone sat, almost in awe at how delicious their impromptu meal really looked. They felt like they were outside of time, like travelers from the future, looking at a distant past.
“What are you waiting for?” Ralph said. “Prayer? Because you can wait all night for that. I’m not going to give it to you.”
They ate then, ripping open their biscuits and dipping them into the gravy, slathering still more over their plates. As they ate, the lights flickered around them, a reminder of the power outages in Carterville.
Clay pointed his knife in the air. “You’ve been getting these too?” he asked.
Lane nodded slowly, taking a small bite. “In fact, we need to tell you that it’s really messing with the meat and dairy. We thought we’d have this stuff for a while longer, but as Ralph was cooking it—”
“Oh, yeah,” Ralph said, interrupting. “This shit only has a few more days, if that. But it’s good for now, ain’t it?”
“Good for now?” Brandon said nervously, eyeing his half-eaten meal. “I’m not going to get sick, am I? I got food poisoning once. On a trip to Florida. I was over the toilet for hours.”
Marcia reassured him, “If it was going to make you sick, it would have happened before you’d eaten half your plate.”
“We’ve moved quite a bit of the frozen food to the freezer in the lab. But we might have to say goodbye to meat and dairy. At least for a while,” Lane said quietly.
Silence fell. They listened to the unfamiliar sound of each other chewing vigorously, reveling in flavor of meat and fat and bone-sticking goodness. Finally, Clay cleared his throat, dropping his fork back on his plate.
“There’s something wrong with you, isn’t there?” Lane asked.
The rest of the survivors turned toward Clay, alarm in their eyes. Brandon quit eating immediately, and covered his mouth. “It’s this fucking meat, isn’t it?” he asked. “I knew I shouldn’t—”
But Lane held up a finger, stopping him. “You guys haven’t noticed how pale this man is?” she asked.
Alayna assessed Clay from the other side of the table. “I assumed it was stress.”
“It’s hard to know if any of us look right,” Daniels chimed in. “We’re all on the brink of insanity, aren’t we?”
Clay sensed she could almost smell the radiation poisoning inside him. Disgruntled, he pulled himself to his feet and began to pace, the savory flavor of the meal still coating his tongue. Everyone was staring, and no one was eating any longer.
“What’s the story, Clay?” Lane asked in a gentle voice.
“He wasn’t infected, was he?” Marcia asked, looking at Jacobs.
Jacobs shook his head, his movements almost imperceptible. “My preliminary analysis,” he began, his voice cracking, “is that Clay has radiation poisoning. From the meteorite.”
The scientists’ faces were grim. The other survivors seemed to be seeing Clay for the first time. Alayna burst from her chair and wrapped her arms around him, hugging him tight.
>
“How much time do you think I have?” Clay asked. He scratched the back of his neck, remembering how weak he’d been before Jacobs had started giving him the pills. “Oddly enough, I feel stronger now than I did before. Much more . . . aware, even. It’s like those pills are making me a better version of myself, despite being generally malnourished and exhausted. Does that align with the diagnosis?”
Alayna nodded, her eyebrows furrowing. “You do look better than you have for the past few days,” she said slowly. “I didn’t want to say anything. I just thought you were stressed out.” She shrugged, not wanting to comment on the fact that they hadn’t really been speaking, not since they’d slept together.
“So, he’s cured?” Ralph said, taking a large bite of biscuits and gravy, the first to return to his food.
“It’s too early to tell,” Jacobs said.
“And you’re sure you didn’t have any recent contact with one of the crazed?” Marcia asked. “I was watching you earlier. You were sweating in the kitchen. Like you have a fever.” She paused. “That is a symptom of the infection.”
Clay’s mind filled with those first images of Cliff in the jail cell, sweating and weeping and vomiting, fighting what Clay had assumed was a hangover. God, he’d been so wrong.
“The first guy was Cliff,” he told them. “The guy you said worked in the lab. I was fighting him off, right after he became completely—out of it.” He remembered the volatile motions, the insane eyes. “And as we were fighting, I got some of his blood in my mouth—” He stopped, allowing the information to sink in.
Both Marcia and Lane were shocked. They pushed their chairs back.
“Now, don’t jump to conclusions,” Jacobs said to them. “He’s been with us for a while now and he doesn’t have any of the symptoms. If he was going to turn crazed, he would have already.”
“So it’s radiation poisoning?” Lane asked. “There’s no way to know the truth, Leland. Not until we test him.”
Clay shook his head. Rather than race after his wife and daughter, he would be confined in a lab, tested, “discovered.” He glared at Jacobs, and wanted to insist on a better tactic, on any other plan.
Detour: Book Two of the Humanity's Edge Trilogy Page 5