Spore Series | Book 5 | Torch

by Soward, Kenny

  “I’ll bet they are.”

  The woman’s eyes lingered on Kim, then she jerked as if remembering something. “Oh, yes. I need to train you on how to work the touchscreens.”

  Touchscreens with speakers adorned almost every wall in every room. They were smooth and hyper responsive. Far better than what they’d had at the CDC laboratory.

  Kim laughed. “So far, I taught myself how to lock and unlock my doors.”

  “Right. They’re also great for calling folks almost anywhere in the facility. If you’re looking for someone, find the nearest touchscreen and put out an A.P.B.”

  “An A.P.B.?” Kim shook her head. “Like a police All-Points Bulletin?”

  “Just a little joke,” Nancy said with a wave. “Here let me show you how it works.”

  Chapter 20

  Kim, Redpine Facility, Little Rock, Arkansas

  The touchscreen by the door beeped softly above the white noise of the apartment’s vents. She sometimes heard a boom deep within the duct system as machines controlled the airflow.

  She’d set her alarm for 8:00 AM, and it was time to get up.

  While she’d wanted a tour the evening before, the Brewers had both suggested Kim get a good night’s sleep and start fresh in the morning. She couldn’t find a reason to argue with them, so she’d accepted the following day as her start date.

  “I’m up,” she whispered low, and the alarm fell quiet.

  Bishop grumbled something from behind her where he snuggled her in the spoon position. While Kim wouldn’t kiss her husband on the lips or let him eat or drink after her, sleeping side-by-side wasn’t an issue. Jessie’s last air quality readings showed they were in the green.

  She pushed herself against him, luxuriating in being the small spoon for a moment longer. It was the first time they’d slept together in weeks, in a real bed, without kids pestering them or some emergency to attend to. She lay there with her eyes open for a minute, slowly waking up as the pressure of finding a cure for Asphyxia loomed large in her mind.

  Kim reluctantly lifted Bishop’s meaty arm and set it aside. She slipped from beneath the covers and slid out of bed, standing on a surprisingly warm floor. She moved to their small kitchenette and placed a pale green mug on the coffee maker’s warming plate. Then she programmed her preferred brew into a touchscreen and hit “Start.”

  The machine gurgled and hissed for thirty seconds before the steaming hot beverage force-dripped from the nozzle. It added a touch of cream and sugar at the end of the cycle.

  Kim lifted the mug straight to her lips and sipped.

  It was delicious.

  She stepped into their compact bathroom, placed her coffee on the sink, and stripped off her standard issue outfit. She got in the shower and shut the door behind her.

  The system was sleek like everything else. A touchscreen controlled the water temperature. Nozzles automatically dispensed shampoo, body wash, and conditioner when she held her hand beneath them.

  Kim scoffed at the generic products, comparing them to hotel products in her mind. She was certain her hair would come out looking like a rat’s nest. But the gels were surprisingly gentle, the water perfectly warm.

  Once showered, she found a plain white brush and hairdryer in a compartment beneath the sink and worked on making sense of her hair. She brushed it out until it fell in waves over her shoulders. Then she pulled it back into a loose ponytail and tugged down a pair of locks to frame her face.

  “Not bad,” she said to the mirror as she turned her head to the side.

  Kim put on fresh whites, grabbed her coffee and laptop, and gave Bishop a kiss on the forehead. She slipped from the room into a quiet hallway with dimmed lights. Padding softly down the corridor, she called out to the man sitting guard.

  “Morning, Weissman.” She let her fingertips rest on the table’s edge. “Any action?”

  “Morning, Kim,” the soldier peered up at her. The medic was an athletic guy with a round baby face. Like Dex and Garcia, she was still getting to know the soldiers.

  “I see you got cleaned up?”

  “First time I shaved for weeks,” he scoffed happily, “They have everything we could ever want here. It feels like a dream.”

  “It does, actually. How’s the serum treating you?”

  “I have the occasional stomach cramp or headache.” He shrugged. “But it beats having my lungs full of crud.”

  She nodded. “Come to me right away if you start experiencing anything more serious. I’m fully dedicated to this now.”

  “Will do,” he said. “Good luck. And, thanks.”

  “No problem,” Kim smiled.

  She turned on her heel and strode across the quiet cafeteria. She briefly considered the vending machines before surrendering to the anxious excitement of work.

  “It feels like my first day on the job,” she whispered. “Which, I guess it is.”

  She walked through the rec room with its games and big wall screen to the elevator where she placed her hand against the reader. After a moment, the doors slid open, and she stepped inside, hitting the button for the labs.

  Her stomach lurched as the car lifted to the higher floors where the real work of the facility took place. Kim had no idea what to expect, but if the labs were half as cool as everything else, they’d be on their way to the cure in no time.

  The doors opened to a semi-circular room with three passages branching out ahead of her. Between each hall was engraved the Redpine emblem, smaller than the one at the entrance.

  Kim stepped from the elevator, head swiveling. There were no markings on the walls to indicate a direction to go. She started to reach for the handheld device in her pocket but remembered she’d left it back in the room. They’d all agreed not to carry them in public for fear of being discovered.

  She was looking for a touchscreen when someone walked briskly toward her down the central hall. Kim changed course and waited for Bonnie Brewer as she made a show of getting there.

  Her lab coat billowed behind her and a lock of red hair bounced against her cheek. Her light blue eyes peered at Kim through wire-framed spectacles. She wore simple earrings and a gray skirt beneath her lab coat. Soft gray pumps adorned her feet.

  “Sorry, I’m late,” the woman said. “We haven’t done serious work since the spore clouds hit. The labs have been shut down for weeks.”

  “Mrs. Brewer,” Kim smiled and held out her hand.

  “Oh, please.” The woman gripped Kim’s fingers. “Call me Bonnie.”

  “Okay, Bonnie.” She withdrew her hand and stepped back.

  “If you’ll follow me, I’ll take you to Lab A. It will be you and me today, though Anthony may join us later.”

  Bonnie turned and strode away with soft footfalls, almost falling forward as she moved. Kim walked on her left with her coffee in one hand and her laptop pressed against her chest.

  “I appreciate the loaner computer,” Kim said.

  “Were you able to login okay?”

  “Yes, and I familiarized myself with your Branch application.”

  They passed several doors along the way, all of them nearly seamless and controlled by touchscreens and hand readers on the wall.

  “Amazing, isn’t it,” Bonnie said with a stiff tone. “It enables us to run hundreds of tests on chemical compounds, blood, and even hard metals. It centrally operates the bio reactors and analysis machines we have on site.”

  “I wasn’t able to do much, but I can see its possibilities.”

  “We’ll give you more access once you become familiar with the program. Ah, here we are.”

  Bonnie put her hand against a reader at the end of the hall, and they stepped inside a lab that made Kim’s jaw drop.

  The rectangular room stretched ahead of her, at least two thousand square feet of space. The walls were bright white while the modular furniture was gray or black.

  Small bio reactors sat at the far end of the room. Computer stations and analysis equipment rested on
tables against the left wall. A row of benches ran through the center of the area, covered with plastic isolation chambers, sampling instruments, and robotic devices.

  Storage shelves lined the right side of the room, stuffed full of boxes of latex gloves, protective equipment, instruments, and jars of chemical agents used in the testing process.

  “This room is where we do most of our analyses. We have several smaller labs for more specialized work. We’ll look at what you’ve done so far and create a plan for moving forward.” Bonnie smiled. “Sound good?”

  “Sounds great,” Kim agreed. She couldn’t take her eyes off the equipment arrayed around her. It made Paul’s lab, and even the CDC lab in Washington, look shabby in comparison.

  Bonnie led her to a long desk with two big computer setups. One appeared powered down while the other had an active monitor screen. A cup of coffee sat next to a keyboard.

  “I usually set up shop here. You can take that seat on the left.”

  “Thanks,” Kim said. She sat in the cushioned chair and placed her laptop on the table in front of her. Pulling the power cable from her pocket, she looked for a strip to plug in. “Did you have a chance to look at any of the data I sent?”

  “Both myself and Anthony reviewed them,” Bonnie said as she typed on her keyboard, slightly distracted by her screen. “I noticed some files with Tom Flannery’s name. He sounds familiar.”

  “He was my boss at the CDC,” Kim nodded. “It was my first day on the job when the spore clouds hit. I fought to get to our underground lab, and that’s when Tom and the Atlanta CDC team and I, began working on the Asphyxia solution.”

  “Aptly named,” Bonnie said, sparing Kim a glance.

  “The Atlanta branch went down sick, leaving just me and Tom.”

  “I’m sorry to hear that.” The woman turned in her seat and frowned. “I didn’t realize you’d been through so much. And I’ve heard of Tom Flannery. I may have read some of his papers. Based on the data I saw, he was a brilliant man.”

  “A good friend, too,” she added.

  “Where is he now?”

  “He didn’t make it.” Kim hardened her tone. “A victim of Mr. Birkenhoff.”

  “Oh.” Bonnie’s eyes flashed with shocked disappointment. “I’m sorry to hear that. Now, where does Paul Henderson come into play? I remember him, too. He worked with Burke years ago before starting his own company, right?”

  “That’s right. Paul took a vested interest in fungi. He based his entire business on fungal research and supplements.”

  Bonnie leaned in. “I heard he was a bit of a nut, too.”

  Kim stiffened, anger rising from her gut and locking inside her chest. She refrained from lashing out, instead pasting on a smile. “Paul was eccentric, but brilliant. He took Tom’s notes, combined them with his own work, and gave us the serum we have today.” Kim left a dramatic pause. “Burke murdered him in cold blood.”

  Bonnie’s face drained of color, her skin turning ashen white. She cleared her throat. “Now I can see why you brought Burke here in chains. It seems he’s been a bit of a troublemaker.”

  Kim arched an eyebrow. “And he’s not going anywhere until four hundred thousand units of serum and two hundred thousand units of vaccine sit on this lab floor.”

  “Let’s get started then.” Bonnie gave her a wavering smile, giving Kim her full attention.

  *

  Bishop opened his eyes wide and sat up in bed, instantly bright and awake. He turned and placed his feet on the floor. He wiggled his toes. The soft tiles weren’t even cold.

  He gave a serene sigh and pressed his fist into the firm mattress, shaking his head in awe. He’d slept with Kim’s warm body against his chest, arm wrapped around her waist and knowing their friends were watching out for them.

  Cocooned in safety, he’d gotten his best sleep since Kim had first accepted the Washington job. After she left, the spore clouds came. Then there was the battle with Francis, and the drive to Salina in search of his wife. Fixing the bus, finding the kids, doubling up on cots and sleeping in the back of the Stryker with grumpy teenagers for two days.

  He’d not had a single night of rest in what felt like months.

  But last night had made it all worthwhile.

  With a grin, he leapt up and crossed to the bathroom, taking a long hot shower. Minutes later, he dressed in an extra pair of whites the facilitators had brought after searching their storage for ones to fit his massive frame.

  The time on the touchscreen read 11:15 AM. He scanned his hand over the door reader and exited Room 15, strolling into the hall with a cup of coffee. The noise had settled considerably as the kids grew more comfortable and congregated out in the wider areas. He heard them. Sounds of utensils clinking in the cafeteria. Laughter from the rec room beyond.

  It was music to his ears.

  He stepped up to the guard table where Bryant was on duty. Fiona kept him company with a strange looking slot game standing vertically between them.

  “Hi, guys. What are you doing?”

  “Hi, Bishop.” The little girl flashed him a shy smile and shifted in her seat, swinging her too-short legs.

  The soldier kept his eyes focused on the board as if his life depended on it. “We’re playing Connect Four.”

  “That’s an old one.”

  “A couple from Wing 2 brought it over.” Bryant carefully slipped a black plastic checker into a slot and watched it slide down with a clack.

  “I was wondering when they’d get curious.” Bishop’s eyes slid to the side, and he kept his voice low. “What’s the feeling you get from them?”

  “Nice people,” Bryant said, narrowing his gaze at his opponent. “They seem harmless enough. I think the kids shocked them.” The soldier lifted his eyes. “We should get to know them.”

  Bishop nodded. By that, he meant figure out the ones to keep an eye on. “Right, I’ll check them out.”

  He turned toward the cafeteria and was heartened by all the people looking loose and relaxed. Riley and Trevor sat at their own table with the Salina boy, Saylor. Jessie and Dex sat off from the rest, laughing and talking over coffee. The soldier kept his spit cup on the floor near his feet.

  The smells of dehydrated eggs, bacon, and something like sausage gravy filled the air. The kids had left bowls, cups, and food wrappers on tables. A pair of socks hung over a chair back.

  They’d stacked more dirty dishes in a cleaning unit, and Bishop shook his head and angled toward his kids. He waved to Jessie as he walked by, and she returned the gesture with a smile. At his kids’ table, he rested his hand on the back of a chair.

  “You two are cleaning up after yourselves, right?”

  “Absolutely,” Trevor said. He dug a spoon into a bowl of cereal with real milk and shoved it in his mouth, chomping and crunching. He swallowed and gestured around with his utensil. “I can’t speak for everyone else.”

  “Good,” he nodded, stomach rumbling with hunger. “How about you, Riley?”

  “We’re cleaning up after ourselves.” She popped a piece of banana in her mouth and chewed happily. Her hair had started to grow out, and she swam inside her baggy white outfit. “The rooms are incredible. I think I’m going to take a nap in a minute.”

  “Listen, I want you two to set an example for the other kids. Keep your rooms clean and tidy. And do your dishes after every meal. Remind the others to do theirs.”

  “Don’t they have a maid service or something?” Trevor asked.

  “It’s like a hotel, right?” Riley peered up at her father innocently.

  “As far as I know, there’s no maid service,” he said. “But even if there was, I’d still want you to do those things.” His tone left no room for argument.

  “Sure.”

  “Easy enough.” Riley pulled a face and glanced toward the rec room. “Or maybe Savannah should tell them to clean up after themselves. They’re messy.”

  “I’m sure that’s true,” he agreed. “And I’ll let Sava
nnah work that out. But she’ll have her hands full, so I expect you both to help until the other kids understand their roles. I demand it.”

  “Okay, Dad. Gosh.” Riley rolled her eyes and stood, walking away with her banana peel.

  “Hey,” he called, sternly.

  The girl spun on her heel and stared at him with her hands on her hips. “What?”

  Bishop softened his tone and smiled. Riley had grown so much in the last few weeks. Even at that moment, with her mother’s attitude and scorn in her eyes, she was beautiful. “I just wanted to say how great you did helping your mom on the bus. I know it couldn’t have been easy, but you showed leadership and skill. I’m super proud of you. And, I love you.”

  The girl’s tension drained away, her expression softened, and one hand slid from her hip. “Thanks. I love you, too.”

  “Good.” Bishop turned to his son.

  “I’m already up!” Trevor exclaimed. He lifted his bowl, drained it of milk, then leapt to help his sister.

  Nodding with satisfaction, Bishop sipped his coffee and stepped into the recreation room. It stretched out in an octagonal shape. He stared across at the elevator bank and the two passages branching off. The one on the left led to security. The one on the right led to more apartments.

  A single large video screen clung to the right-hand wall, and a half dozen kids watched a dinosaur movie on it. Another group played a virtual sports game nearby. Little Karen Reese was busy with some girls at a table, speaking in her usual, bossy tone.

  He caught sight of Savannah standing near the right-hand passage, leaning on her crutch as she talked to a couple in their mid-thirties. Their clothing was a mix of standard issue white bottoms, slippers, and T-shirts. The man wore an Arkansas Razorbacks logo on his, and the woman’s had a Redpine emblem on hers.

  Their eyes ticked wider when they saw Bishop approach.

  “Hello, folks,” he said, keeping it friendly as he offered a big smile.

  The man was portly and plain, with muscular forearms and a scruff of a beard. The woman mirrored the man’s body type, her dirty blonde hair bound behind her head, her face thin and ending in a pointy chin.