KILLER T

by Robert Muchamore

  ‘Just watched it,’ Charlie said.

  ‘I’ve seen the recipe,’ Mango said. ‘The techniques are complex, but it’s doable. Can you get to the bakery straight away?’

  Charlie’s regular lab sessions were scheduled in advance and she’d tell her foster parents she was out at a party, or sleeping over at Juno’s. But driving off when most people were scared to leave home would make Jan and Navid ask questions. Charlie decided the best course was to skip out without telling them anything.

  The roads were quiet. Fast-food restaurants, cinema and casino parking lots were deserted and many smaller outlets shuttered. The US government had been running a quarantine preparedness campaign for over a year, urging everyone to keep a month’s supply of bottled water, canned food and other essentials in case of a lengthy quarantine. But Charlie still passed a supermarket lot crammed with panic shoppers and Target had a big handwritten sign out front with a long list of items they’d run out of.

  For security, Charlie always parked her VW a block and a half from the storage unit where the RV was berthed. Since cell phones are basically a big here I am sign to the authorities, she switched off her handset as she got out.

  Juno was walking from the other direction. The storage unit and the RV’s side door were already unlocked and Charlie was pleased to see that the nightmare fuse panel had been swapped for an entirely new unit.

  ‘Hey, girls,’ Mango said brightly as Juno clanked up the RV’s metal steps.

  Charlie was surprised to see Veryan there too. Mango’s wife supposedly had a scientific background, but she was always prickly, and this was the first time Charlie had seen her near the lab.

  ‘Got new toys!’ Juno said, looking on the cabinet by the sink where three small machines were set up in a row. ‘They finally came! This is state-of-the-art shit.’

  ‘It’s amazing how fast technology changes,’ Charlie said as she admired the new machines, each with colour touchscreens and no bigger than an espresso maker. ‘This whole set-up is smaller than the old sequencer on its own.’

  ‘Faster too,’ Veryan said, snapping on a nitrile glove. ‘The printer can generate over ten thousand base pairs per minute. Which, given the complexity of what we’re handling today, will be a big help.’

  Besides the trio of new machines, Mango had bought a big box of sterile syringes and vaccine sample vials. There were also four much larger containers with the base compound for a vaccine and a number of chemicals that Charlie hadn’t used before. Finally, there were bottles of Cola and bags of snacks.

  ‘You’ve been stockpiling all this stuff?’ Charlie asked.

  Veryan nodded, and gave a loaded reply, ‘There’s a lot more work behind the scenes than some people seem to realise.’

  Mango smoothed things quickly. ‘I haven’t worked on a vaccine since I was in graduate school, but the technical documents the British government have released are comprehensive and designed so that any competent genetics lab can produce a working vaccine. But even with four of us, and no major foul-ups, we’re looking at a fourteen-hour shift.

  ‘We can make enough vaccine for a thousand people, but I’ve only got enough vials and syringes for a hundred and twenty doses. There’s no pecking order and no money involved. I want this to be about helping the people we love to stay alive. I want all disputes set aside and each of us will leave here with thirty doses to distribute as they wish. Agreed?’

  ‘Agreed,’ Charlie said as Veryan and Juno nodded.

  48 TWELVE-PIECE BUCKET

  The Helen Back story sat awkwardly in Harry’s mind. He could have run the details by Vegas Local’s media lawyer, typed a few hundred words and had it on the front page within a couple of hours. But Harry had done a lot of growing up since he’d last seen Charlie. The sexual jealousy over Brad seemed childish, and when he realised the hurt was no longer there Harry found himself feeling nostalgic for a friendship more meaningful than any he had now.

  He’d left Charlie two phone messages, but she hadn’t responded. Her email had bounced and she didn’t do social media, because a lot of Rock Spring football fans still hated her guts.

  Harry wondered if she’d changed her number as Matt stepped in the apartment’s main door holding a giant bucket of fried chicken.

  ‘Dig in while it’s hot,’ Matt said.

  ‘Took you long enough,’ Harry said, heading into their messy kitchen. ‘I put out plates and shit.’

  ‘The unit on Flamingo was closed,’ Matt explained as he planted the bucket in the middle of the dining table.

  ‘Beer or coke?’ Harry asked, peering in the fridge, then laughing as he noticed Matt’s swollen eye. ‘Lana clocked you good!’

  ‘Coke,’ Matt said, ignoring the comment about his eye as he pulled off his gloves and virus mask. ‘I got a call from Ethan.’

  ‘Fat Ethan?’ Harry asked. He popped the lid off the bucket and grabbed a pack of fries and two wings.

  ‘Nah, big-ears Ethan,’ Matt said, sitting down. ‘His ma works at the emergency coordination centre. She says fifteen people who were staying at the Red Spot have been taken ill.’

  ‘I didn’t step inside the casino,’ Harry said warily.

  ‘Gets worse,’ Matt said, popping a can of Pepsi and tipping fries on to his plate. ‘They’ve tracked down the person who brought the virus to Vegas. It’s Greg Rosenwein.’

  ‘Never heard of him.’

  ‘You’ve heard of Lee Rosenwein?’

  Harry nodded. ‘Sure, tennis player.’

  ‘Rosenwein was in London for a veteran’s tennis tournament. His private jet pilots were the first to come down with Killer-T in San Fran. Turns out his seventeen-year-old son, Greg, was at military school in Pasadena, back when Axl got his ass busted for meth and his ma sent him there to straighten out. So Greg Rosenwein was partying with us on Friday night.’

  Harry felt like he’d been smacked. ‘Well, that’s put me off my fried chicken.’

  ‘Greg’s dead,’ Matt said dramatically.

  ‘No way!’ Harry gawped.

  ‘Same as in London,’ Matt said. ‘Killer-T’s more potent in kids and younger adults. There’s hardly any cases in people over seventy.’

  ‘Was Greg near us?’ Harry asked. ‘Did you see him?’

  ‘No idea what he looks like,’ Matt said, greasy fingers and cheeks crammed with poultry. ‘But everyone was around that pool, and given how infectious this is supposed to be …’

  ‘How can you sit there eating?’ Harry said as he walked to the fridge. ‘This sucks.’

  ‘Schools are closed until further notice,’ Matt said. ‘The governor’s making a statement to the media at nine, which must be the full curfew announcement. And President West’s supposedly gonna announce that no domestic flights can take off after midnight.’

  ‘Look on the bright side,’ Harry said, as he stuffed his face with fries. ‘Neither of us is gonna live long enough for this junk food to make us fat.’

  49 CLYDE’S DONGFENG

  It was 6 a.m. when the lab rats finished work. Four Radical Cake muffin boxes stood on the RV’s fold-out dining table, each containing thirty sterile syringe packs and thirty glass vials of Killer-T vaccine.

  ‘Here’s to a good night’s work,’ Mango said as she wheeled an office chair up to the table, ripped open a syringe pack and pricked the needle through the thin metal lid of a glass vial. ‘I guess I’ll go first.’

  Before Mango could stab herself, Juno, Charlie and Veryan rushed up to the table, rolling sleeves and filling syringes. After a count of three, the four sweaty and exhausted women jabbed their arms with the fine needles.

  The sun was creeping up as Charlie walked back to her VW, the little glass bottles chinking with every step. Charlie dry-heaved as she caught the smell of two zombies sleeping on the sidewalk. She upped her pace in case there were more in the deserted street and only felt safe when she’d shut her car door and pressed the lock button.

  She switched on her phone. Her arm itc
hed as she placed the vaccine in the passenger-side footwell, then grabbed a hoodie from the back seat and used it to cover the box.

  ‘You have two new messages from Harry Smirnov,’ the speaker in the centre console announced.

  The name jarred, but her phone was old and she guessed it was an ancient message triggered by a bug when it switched back on. She was more concerned with where to drive. Mango had kept a radio on while they’d worked and the state of Nevada’s full quarantine had been announced at midnight.

  Under quarantine rules, people could make a single final destination journey for a further twelve hours, but were warned that licence-plate recognition systems would catch and fine drivers making multiple journeys.

  Charlie opened up her navigation screen. She wanted to give Ed a dose of vaccine, but no matter how hard Charlie looked there was no getting around the fact that Care4Kids was eight miles north, while the Rahimi residence was a little under two miles east.

  Working on the assumption that licence plate and speed radar were concentrated on major roads, Charlie plotted a route that avoided freeways and ran through a grid of residential streets. Once she’d drawn the route on her nav screen, and the car had told her that based on current traffic patterns a faster route was available, Charlie decided to check if there were any new messages on her phone before setting off.

  She listened to a message from Navid, who guilted her by stating that he was concerned she’d gone out without saying where, and that he trusted her, but it was now midnight and everyone including the boys were worried.

  ‘Harry Smirnov called yesterday at 1637. Call back or play message?’

  Charlie pressed the button to play back as Juno drove past in a big Ford truck, giving a goodbye wave. Harry sounded older, but his voice still evoked the years in White Boulder, when his calls and letters kept her sane, and a flicker of the rejection she’d felt when he’d ignored her messages and stopped visiting a few weeks after she’d been released.

  ‘Charlie, long time no speak,’ Harry said, with an irritating casualness. ‘I’d like you to call me back ASAP. Vegas Local has received an FBI witness statement. Helen Back turned snitch to get out of some tax beef. She claims that Mango and Veryan Kowalski-Clark run a gene lab. Your name crops up too, saying that you’re their best lab rat. Even if that’s not true, you’re gonna have the Feds on your case. Call me back when you can. It’s Harry … Harry Smirnov, obviously.’

  Charlie felt a stab down one side as she breathed. She thought about calling Harry straight back, or talking to Mango. Mango might still be tidying up in the RV if she ran, but Charlie decided her priority was to give Ed his vaccine, then head home for a tricky conversation with her foster parents.

  I know you thought I was a near-perfect foster daughter, but last night I ran off to go to the illegal gene-modding lab where I’ve been working since before I met you. And I’m telling you this now because I have four doses of Killer-T vaccine that might save you and your sons’ lives …

  But that was a bridge to cross later and Charlie hit the accelerator. Vegas was built on a grid system, so even minor streets were easy to navigate. She did the driving herself and kept the speed down, hoping it would give her a chance to spot road blocks and turn ahead of them.

  At times Charlie felt she was the only car moving in the whole city. As she’d hoped, there were no patrols on the side streets and after six miles of suburbs and fifty stop signs, she rolled on to the Care4Kids lot, barren aside from three cars belonging to the night staff.

  Charlie knew the unit would be closed to visitors, but reckoned she could twist the arm of Joyce, or one of the other nurses she’d got friendly with. Unfortunately, the front desk was manned by Clyde, a huge Chinese-American nurse who was always miserable. He had a reputation for being thick, and mostly did cleaning tasks and served as muscle when one of the teen residents got aggressive.

  ‘Morning,’ Charlie said brightly, stepping up to the reception desk in mask and gloves and taking her phone out to be sterilised, like nothing was out of the ordinary.

  Clyde lowered a tablet on which he was playing a bubble-shooting game and made a grunt through his mask.

  ‘You must be tripping.’

  ‘I always come to see Ed on Monday mornings. You know how important his routine is.’

  ‘Charlie, there’s a state-wide quarantine. Did you just get in your car and drive here?’

  ‘Obviously.’

  ‘You’re lucky you didn’t get arrested,’ Clyde warned, reaching for a phone. ‘You can get in serious trouble. I’ll call and say you’ve been here overnight and hopefully they’ll give you a quarantine authorisation to drive home.’

  ‘No,’ Charlie said frantically. ‘Can you please let me in to see Ed. Ten minutes tops. This might be my last chance to see him in weeks.’

  Clyde shook his head. ‘Letting someone in off the street during a level-one quarantine? Joyce would fire my ass in a heartbeat.’

  ‘Come on,’ Charlie begged.

  I have to give Ed the vaccine. If I jumped the counter, this big lump would flatten me. He might take a bribe, but I only have thirty bucks in my wallet. But what if …

  ‘You’re a total dick hole,’ Charlie screamed, as a better idea dawned. ‘Why can’t you let me see my brother?’

  Clyde was used to being thumped and spat on, so he wasn’t fazed by a girl having a hissy fit. He picked his tablet back up as Charlie slammed the door and stormed into the parking lot.

  Charlie frequently arrived at Care4Kids around the same time that nurses on the dayshift clocked in. She’d often seen Clyde clambering out of a two-seat Dongfeng sports car, complete with a go-faster body kit and a pearlescent paint job.

  Charlie passed the Dongfeng as she ran back to her little VW. It took a couple of minutes swiping through the car’s menus to find the setting to turn off collision avoidance, a decision the car informed her was Not Recommended and may invalidate insurance policies in some states, before making her reconfirm.

  After reversing around the lot, Charlie lined her rear up with Clyde’s Dongfeng and backed into it at around eight miles per hour. She expected no more than a crackle of plastic and some scraped paint, but the rear fender of her tiddly VW managed to tangle with the Dongfeng’s body kit, and a three-foot section ripped off as Charlie pulled away.

  ‘You’ve gotta be kidding …’ Charlie gasped as she looked behind from the driver’s seat. She half expected Clyde to come charging outside, but Clyde’s focus was on bubble-popping and Charlie meekly strolled back into the lobby.

  ‘What now?’ Clyde snapped, peering up from his game.

  ‘I had a little accident,’ Charlie said, holding up a chunk of pearlescent fender. ‘Is there someone here who drives a weird-looking sports car?’

  ‘My Dongfeng,’ Clyde howled, putting his hands to his head as he charged around the counter and ran into the lot without mask or gloves.

  ‘I’m really sorry.’

  ‘This lot is empty,’ Clyde shouted when he saw fender dangling off the front of his car. ‘How did you manage to hit my car in an empty lot, you stupid little girl?’

  ‘Dark cars are hard to see when you go backwards,’ Charlie suggested. ‘I’m sorry.’

  As Clyde crouched down to study the damage, Charlie backed up towards the entrance. The instant she got inside, she twisted the bolt inside the door and had vaulted behind the counter before the hulking nurse realised what had happened.

  An older nurse spotted her as she bolted down a short hallway to Ed’s room. Injections were near the top of the long list of things that freaked Ed out and Charlie felt horrible as she stepped into his dark room.

  ‘Excuse me, miss,’ an angry voice was shouting, clearly getting closer. ‘Miss!’

  Charlie pulled a syringe pack out of her trouser pocket. Ed was bigger than her and she desperately hoped he didn’t wake up and thump her as she pushed the needle into a vial of Killer-T vaccine, gently peeled back the bedsheet curled round Ed
’s back and jabbed his upper arm.

  ‘You can’t be in here!’ the nurse shouted, bursting in as Charlie pocketed the evidence of what she’d done.

  ‘Charlie?’ Ed roared, sitting up in bed, clutching a pillow to his chest.

  Clyde had used a key to let himself back inside. He furiously slammed Charlie against the wall. Ed didn’t like seeing his sister manhandled and jumped out of bed, locking his chunky hands round Clyde’s neck and giving Charlie a chance to break free.

  ‘It’s OK, Ed, but I have to go,’ Charlie said, feeling horribly guilty as she abandoned her panicked brother to a pair of angry nurses and sprinted back the way she’d come.

  Outside, Charlie quickly inspected her car to make sure it was drivable before jumping in. One of the rear light clusters was cracked, but everything else seemed fine.

  I smashed up a car and violated quarantine at a hospital. Harry says the FBI are on to me. I’d probably be in an interrogation room already if the world wasn’t focused on Killer-T. But I did what I came here to do. I need to get home and vaccinate Navid, Jan and the boys.

  With good behaviour, I might be out by the time I’m thirty …

  50 HAVING WORDS

  ‘It’s Charlie, returning your call.’

  Her voice made the past erupt. From the desperate sweaty hug in the tire shop, to the morning Harry woke in hospital, with three loose teeth, crazy sexual jealousy and a vow never to speak to Charlie again. They were just kids. They’d never even kissed, but her voice still felt big. Like she’d grown roots in his brain.

  ‘You sound upset,’ Harry said as he stepped on to his balcony and looked at dead streets four hundred and fifty feet below.

  ‘Just had my first ever row with my foster parents,’ Charlie said in a dazed sing-song voice. ‘And other crazy stuff happened. And I’m on my way back to jail …’

  ‘Only if it’s true,’ Harry pointed out.

  Charlie sounded wary. ‘Am I talking to Harry my old friend, or Harry from Vegas Local?’