“What happened?”
“It got loose. In the lab.”
Meg didn’t want to know but had to ask. “What did?”
“The virus. They all got infected.”
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
“I vote we stay here,” Sonia said as the group gathered again in the lobby, with Meg forcing the listless Jiang to join them.
“No way,” Arjun said, already feeling trapped and suffocated by death. “Smells like the ass end of Satan in here.”
“I didn’t think Hindus believed in Satan,” Sydney said.
“I’m not Hindu. My parents are…” He looked off in the distance where the last of sun imbued the pine trees with red light. “Or were. Or whatever. They believe in evil spirits that can become good. It’s a metaphor for overcoming our worst desires. I don’t know how zombies fit into that worldview.”
“Well, we better be overcoming this smell, or else we’ll be out there risking our necks in the dark to find someplace better,” Rocky said. “I vote we stay.”
“Me, too,” Hannah said. “We can block off the stairs with curtains and seal off one of these rooms. Crack a window and get some fresh air.”
“I don’t want to take Jacob outside until we know more,” Meg said. “What about you, Jiang? I guess you’re one of us now.”
The old man shook his head, almost in a stupor. He must’ve witnessed enough horrors to fill a thousand videogame scenarios. Arjun wanted to know why he was the lone survivor when he seemed so frail. Many of the dead people upstairs were in the prime of life, young or middle-aged adults.
“It stinks here, but I’m getting used to it,” Jacob said, not waiting for the grownups to ask his opinion.
If the boy could handle it, so could Arjun. “Fine. Let’s make a nest.”
He and Rocky were preparing to bust down an office door when Jiang produced a key ring. They opened the door carefully but the office was unoccupied. It held a row of filing cabinets lined against one wall, as well as some computer and network gear and a desk. It was simple enough to move the equipment to one side and open the window a few inches. Within minutes the rank sweetness of decay faded a little, although Arjun was convinced it would linger in his pores for days.
Then he realized he didn’t have to worry about days. He should worry about hours. And even if he lived longer than a few days, he was bound to come across an even fouler odor.
The group organized the room as best they could, considering their scant provisions. They only had one sleeping bag but salvaged a number of chair and sofa cushions, yanking down some curtains to use as blankets. Sydney placed some candles on the desk and was just about to light them when Jiang waved her away and pointed to a circuit box with several loose wires spliced into a power strip.
“One of our technicians bypassed the grid and conducted a direct feed from the photovoltaic system,” he said. Despite his physical dissipation, his mind still seemed sharp. “It wasn’t enough to power the entire facility so we isolated several outlets. The battery array should last the night with minimal use.”
“Sweet,” Sydney said. “Now I can charge my phone and play Candy Crush.”
“Might be more useful to find some lamps,” Arjun said.
Meg, who’d hovered watchfully around the elderly Chinese man, said, “You should rest. You’ve had a difficult time.”
“We all have.” He looked at Jacob and then back to her. “Your husband and daughter?”
Meg didn’t answer, which was answer enough. Before the mood turned even more morose, Arjun said, “Time to break out some rations.”
“Don’t look at me,” Sydney said. “I made breakfast this morning. That doesn’t mean I’m suddenly your official bitch.”
Arjun didn’t think that at all. They had shared a bed in the hotel the night before, both sleeping in their clothes, leaving a solid foot of space between them. Sydney had dropped off right away, while Arjun tossed and turned, thinking about her, thinking about his parents, thinking about what the future might look like.
Mostly about her.
Worst of all, the entire group knew they’d spent the night in the same room together, yet none of them—probably not even Jacob, who was pretty advanced for a ten-year-old—suspected the two of them had hooked up. No sly glances, no teasing, no wink-wink-winks the next morning. Pathetic.
“I’ll do it,” Hannah said, digging into her pack and pulling out some cans of food and a smoke-cured salami. “I don’t want to get stereotyped, either. You guys are always making me a scout or a guard.”
“Because you don’t want to leave your motorcycle,” Rocky said.
“What can I say? I don’t like to be hemmed in. I’ll probably sleep in the lobby anyway.”
“I’ll take first watch. I don’t trust that door I blasted. Unless we need a vote on that, too.”
“We’re still a democracy,” Sonia said. “We’ve done a good job of working together to accomplish our goals, and we’re all in this together.”
“We made it here,” Meg said. “But what now? Jiang?”
Jiang looked out the window at the laboratory, which was now steeped in shadows, its windows dark and blank. He spoke in a distant voice, with his back turned to them so that Arjun could barely hear.
“We were notified of the outbreak within hours,” Jiang said. “Of course, we immediately made the disease a priority even before we received a request from the National Institutes of Health. Health departments delivered samples from three surrounding states even before it was named ‘The Klondike Flu.’ Our staff and independent researchers using our lab worked around the clock, even when some of them began showing symptoms.
“Within hours, most of them were sick, and we quarantined them on site. The first one transitioned the next night, attacking and killing several doctors before she was subdued. We moved the sick into this facility and decided to isolate the lab on the recommendation of Dr. Furman Hodge, in hopes of keeping the remaining researchers healthy. Unfortunately, the biological samples themselves spread the virus, and Hodge locked down the lab from the inside to keep the condition from spreading. Our maintenance and security staff tried to break in, but Hodge hacked the security program and changed the access codes.”
“I tried to contact you,” Meg said. “All I received was an autoresponse.”
Jiang’s voice sounded pained as he continued. “I saw your message and didn’t want to expose you to this madness. Before we lost communication with the lab, Hodge reported the virus already showed signs of accelerated mutation. Before we could compile the mutated samples to send to the CDC and NIH, Hodge destroyed them. That was the last we heard from him. Three days ago.”
“What happened in here?” Sonia asked. “It looked like some of those bodies upstairs belonged to zombies.”
“Most of our sick people were sent home, since we’re not set up to provide medical care. But we had a few attacks here. Laura, our receptionist…” Jiang began pacing as if agitated by the memory. “She was the first, but there were others. We’d placed a couple of bodies in the hallway while waiting for an ambulance to arrive, and our head of security noticed the zombies didn’t pass the bodies to attack us. For whatever reason—the smell, the decay, or maybe some communicative property at the cellular level—the zombies couldn’t perceive that we were prey. So we stacked the bodies to serve as organic barricades or sensual camouflage, and it worked.”
Arjun had heard of dead bodies being using to fortify trenches in wartime, but picturing Jiang and his staff actually handling them like timbers made him feel nauseated. He put down the little cracker sandwiches he’d made with salami and cheese slices. The apocalypse offered a wonderful weight-loss program.
“But where is everyone else?” Meg asked. “If it worked, how come you’re the only one left?”
“One by one, people wanted to leave, to go home to their families or seek safety with the police. Remember, we had no communication with the outside world at this point. Some of them didn’t make it. And
then we lost power and couldn’t open the gate, so anyone leaving had to do so on foot. When the last person left, I decided to stay. Something about the captain going down with the ship.”
“All these dead bodies around, and all these sick people, and yet you don’t have any symptoms,” Sonia said. “Just like us. We’ve been exposed to deaders and the Klondike Flu, but here we are.”
“Hodge had a theory of a natural genetic immunity,” Jiang said. “He was pursuing it as an avenue toward a cure—but of course, we’re years away from viable genetic editing, so it was all theoretical. Our best bet was to develop a vaccine to develop antibodies, but even that response would require a long lead time. Under these conditions, with civilization broken, a wide-scale vaccination program would be logistically impossible.”
“I had symptoms but they didn’t turn into a full-blown illness,” Meg said. “Others have reported the same thing.”
“I’d assume the function would be similar to flu shots. A few people will experience vague flu-like symptoms until their bodies react and their natural immune systems take over. The truth is, everyone is infected now, unless they live in some remote area shut off from human contact. Some of the Indian islands, New Guinea, the Amazon Basin, those people we call ‘primitive’ will likely become the pinnacle of civilization.”
“So we’re in like a dormancy period?” Hannah asked. “We could turn into zombies at any time?”
They all looked warily at each other. Arjun took an involuntary step away from Sydney. What if she’d turned last night while they were in bed?
“More like a latency period,” Meg said. “If you have the proper antibodies, you’d likely never show symptoms again. For example, if you get chickenpox, then you’re immune to it for life. However, you might later develop shingles, a related viral condition. Measles is another virus that you can only get once. At one time, almost all children caught it. Since the development of a measles vaccine, it’s much rarer in the United States, but kills thousands all over the world, mostly children.”
“Developing a measles vaccine took a decade,” Jiang said. “We don’t have a decade with the Klondike Flu. If you calculate the exponential effect, we will soon be at the point where everyone is either naturally immune or has turned into a—I detest the term, since it reeks of folklore instead of science—zombie.”
“Exponential effect?” Hannah asked.
“Math,” Arjun said. “Same thing works with vampires. If you have one vampire, and that vampire bites another person and that person turns into a vampire, you have two of them. Then those two bite two more, and there are four hungry vampires. Those four create four more. Then eight make eight, and so on. Pretty soon it accelerates, and in a few months everyone in the world is a vampire and there’s nothing left to eat. You’ve got vampires all the way down.”
“Except vampires aren’t real,” Jacob said. “Zombies are.”
“One more thing,” Jiang said. “I have no universal evidence, of course, but we’ve yet to observe a single case of anyone being bitten by a zombie and not becoming infected, even if they previously showed immunity to the Klondike Flu. So perhaps the analogy with chickenpox is accurate, since you can still develop a related condition by exposure to the bloodstream.”
“We have one reported case of blood immunity,” Meg said, telling Jiang about Rev. Ingram. She concluded, “But I suspect it’s a hoax.”
“If it’s not,” Jiang said, “he might be the most important specimen in the world.”
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
President Arthur MacMillan was smaller than the last time Rev. Ingram had seen him.
Smaller not just in stature—after all, he was in his seventies and his vertebrae naturally compressed with age as his muscles sagged—but in demeanor. The fierce, gray-eyed man who’d wrangled his way up through a state senate seat to governorship of Nebraska, and then to one failed bid for the Republican nomination for president before winning it the second time around, now seemed deflated and defeated. Perhaps the diminishing came from losing his platform. When given a stage, a microphone, or a television camera, MacMillan exhibited an almost omnipotent charisma. Sitting with Ingram at a kitchen table at Camp David in Maryland, he was just a bewildered old man not equal to the speed of change.
“How was your trip?” MacMillan asked.
“Loud but comfortable,” Ingram said. “I’m more used to planes than helicopters.”
“Helicopters give you a view of conditions on the ground, though.”
“Indeed. And conditions are grim.”
MacMillan slapped his palm down on a stack of papers scattered across the table beside his coffee cup. “Tell me about it. San Diego is gone, except for the naval base. New York City’s a war zone. We can’t hold D.C. Even with the bombing campaign, it’s so bad that we’re not getting reports from most of the country.”
“I’ve been thinking about your proposal,” Ingram said. “The best way forward is to double down on establishing shelters. We can consolidate our resources, using the Army to protect the citizens while we reorganize. We’ll start over with only the right people.”
“No one wants to sacrifice for strangers,” MacMillan said. “Much less for immigrants and foreigners. I’m afraid we’ll have to take some strategic positions and forget about Constitutional rights.”
“Not everyone can fit on the Ark,” Ingram said.
“And the Ark only needs one Noah.”
“And two of everything else, but no more.”
MacMillan held up his cup for a refill and an aide came from the kitchen with the pot. Ingram declined. He was already brimming with vitality and purpose. He had no need of artificial stimulants.
The aide, a young brunette in a pantsuit, wouldn’t meet Ingram’s eyes. She didn’t have a mark on her hand. After she left, Ingram asked about it.
“I haven’t had time,” MacMillan said. “The Secret Service and Cabinet are all inked, but not my staff. It’s okay, though. They’re all reliable and trustworthy.”
“Until they realize nobody’s paying taxes anymore,” Ingram joked.
“I’m getting the Three and Eye mark myself, now that I’ve seen yours. I realize how important it is to declare your faith.”
“Please do so soon. God’s seal of approval provides better protection than an army.”
“Tomorrow,” MacMillan said. “Now for business. With the vice president missing, I’ve been reluctant to name a replacement. I was afraid it would cause chaos if Stephen showed up and I’d given someone else the job. But since we’re long past the ‘chaos’ stage, I’m asking you to be my right-hand man.”
Ingram wasn’t exactly surprised by the offer. But he wanted more than a ceremonial position.
“I’m grateful and humbled, Mr. President, but I have a mission,” Ingram said. “My work organizing shelters is far more important, both for our survival and to prepare for Christ’s imminent return.”
“Oh, I still want you to stay on as zombie czar. But if something happens to me, I can’t guarantee you will hold onto your authority, especially since the Speaker of the House is a member of the opposition party. This way you’re a heartbeat away from the presidency, and if the Lord calls me home, I can go in peace, knowing my country is in good hands.”
Ingram reflected for a moment, seeking the Lord’s will. Ingram had never explicitly sought political power, considering government the realm of the flesh and not the spirit. But the Lord had delivered Ingram to this moment for a purpose. And why shouldn’t Ingram have power when a weak-willed man like MacMillan possessed it without hesitation?
Ingram had first met MacMillan when the man plotted his first presidential run. Like most candidates, he tested his legitimacy among the evangelicals, whose support was critical for a successful primary race. MacMillan had a reputation as a rabid patriot despite never having served in the Armed Forces. But bluster wasn’t enough to sway religious leaders, especially when MacMillan was a relative newcomer to the Christia
n faith.
He professed it loudly and publicly, but his personal history wasn’t convincing. Quite simply, he hadn’t kissed the ring on his way up. God saw through such hypocrisy, and it was only when MacMillan’s actions matched his words that the evangelicals backed him. Those actions included legislation that shifted tax dollars to the churches for social welfare programs and forced morals into the legal code.
Ingram voiced his support, since he bore little risk of collateral damage. He generally backed any candidate that wasn’t an outright liberal or non-Christian. Like his peers, he was willing to overlook personal failings in the interest of a greater good.
But was this political appointment truly in service to the higher calling? Or was MacMillan hoping his association with Ingram would grease his way through the gates of heaven?
“‘Render unto Caesar the things that are Caesar’s, and render unto God the things that are God’s,’” Ingram quoted. “Book of Matthew.”
“‘These are of one mind, and they hand over their power and authority to the beast,’” MacMillan answered. “Book of Revelation.”
Ingram smiled. “I didn’t know you were serious about the Scriptures.”
“Lately it’s seemed like the only thing that matters.” The president looked out the window where a phalanx of armed guards ringed the building, floodlights brightening the perimeter of the camp.
“If you trust me more than anyone else to fulfill the prophecies, then I accept,” Ingram said. “But only if I can serve while still attending to my flock at Promiseland.”
MacMillan nodded. “Supreme Court Justice Moretti is in one of the cabins. I’ll have her escorted over for the swearing-in ceremony.”
“Is that all there is to it?”
“Technically we need a Congressional vote, but we don’t have a quorum. I’m invoking emergency powers here. The surviving members of the Supreme Court have already agreed to back me if there are legal challenges.”
“As you wish, Mr. President.”
Revelation: A Post-Apocalyptic Zombie Thriller (Arize Book 2) Page 11