Rise: A Newsflesh Collection

by Mira Grant

  “Ah, but then you’d be legally liable for trespassing beyond the fence line,” said Olivia. “This way, if we’re caught, you’ll have plausible deniability, and the traces of chloroform in your system to back it up. You’ll be deported instead of being imprisoned. Everybody wins.”

  “Everybody but us,” said Juliet. “We’ll go to jail. For a long, long time.” She twisted back around in her seat. “So you’d better appreciate this.”

  “How can I appreciate this when I don’t even know what it is?” I demanded.

  “It’s an answer,” said Olivia. “We’re still not completely sure what the question was, but it’s an answer, and that gives us a place to start. Rey?”

  “I’ve been observing unusual infection patterns in the kangaroos that cluster around the fence for the last five years,” he said. He sounded as calm as if he were delivering a lecture in a nice, safe classroom, not driving a Jeep across an open field where we might be attacked at any moment. “I’d looked at the reservoir conditions, of course—everyone has at some point—but then I’d dismissed them, because all the information coming out of the big organizations said that they were anomalous, and actually analyzing that data takes years of targeted study. Then things got bad in North America, and your team released the reservoir condition data.”

  We hadn’t released all of it. We’d never shared the information on spontaneous remission, for one thing, or the statistics on parent/child or sexually transmitted immunity. There’s telling the truth, and then there’s blowing up the monkey house without having anywhere to put the monkeys. “So?” I said cautiously.

  “So I started looking at the data in a new way,” said Rey. The landscape was becoming less uniform; we were driving toward a clump of what I started to recognize as eucalyptus trees. “The thing about marsupials that’s really interesting—I don’t know if you thought about this earlier today, when we made a point of showing you the nursery—but the thing that’s really interesting is how infected mothers can continue to nurse uninfected infants. A kangaroo joey is incredibly far below the amplification threshold, and it lives purely on its mother’s milk. They’re getting a viral load that could cause the entire population of Sydney to amplify, and they’re getting it every hour of the day.”

  “Meaning what?”

  “Meaning reservoir conditions along the fence line are sky-high. Half the babies you saw today have them, or have the beginnings of them. Some show signs of developing two or even three reservoir conditions. And here’s the really interesting part: Only about half the juveniles we raise and release show up in the infected mobs. The rest never seem to get sick.”

  “How interesting,” I said, keeping my voice as neutral as I could.

  “It’s more interesting than you think,” said Rey. “Their offspring? The ones with one parent—sometimes even two—with a reservoir condition? They never amplify at all. They seem to be immune.”

  “Which means what?” I asked. “Human zombies can’t breastfeed.”

  Olivia shuddered. “It says something about my friends that I keep hearing that sentence,” she said. “It never gets any less disgusting.”

  “Maybe not,” said Rey. He steered our Jeep into the shadow of the trees and turned off the engine. The sudden silence was deafening. “But this is a chance to learn more about the structure of the virus and the way that it behaves when a population is allowed to find equilibrium. We have to protect the kangaroos.”

  I stared at the back of his head. “That’s why we’re here?”

  “You wanted to see the real Australia, mate,” said Jack, as he slid off the roof and landed lightly next to the car. “Doesn’t get any more real than this. Now come on. It’s time for you to meet the locals.”

  5.

  We walked in a diamond-shaped formation through the trees. Jack took the front and Juliet took the rear, with the rest of us sandwiched between them like an unruly school group. Rey moved almost as quietly as Jack and Juliet did, his careful footsteps and obvious awareness of the terrain speaking to his knowledge of the area. Olivia and I blundered along, her good-naturedly, me with the growing conviction that we were about to be eaten.

  Nothing but us moved within the shadow of the trees. Nothing that I saw, anyway; Jack paused at one point, turning to shine his flashlight toward something in the distance. It reflected off two round eyes, low to the ground and utterly chilling.

  “Wombat,” he said, with an air of satisfaction.

  “Is it infected?” I asked.

  “Doesn’t matter. If it is, it’s too slow to catch up with us. We’ll just need to keep an eye out when we come back. If it’s not, it’s not going to mess with us. Uninfected wombats are pretty chill little dudes.”

  “I am firing you when I get back to my computer.”

  Jack’s grin was a white slash cut through the darkness. “No you’re not. If nothing else, tonight’s little party game proves that I’m absolutely the best Irwin you’ve got on the roster. You can fire Olivia if you’d like.”

  “Shut up, you,” said Olivia.

  Jack laughed, and we started walking again.

  “Why did we park so far from where we’re going?”

  “Noise,” said Rey. “You should probably stop talking. We’re going to look at a nonaggressive mob, but your voice could still spook them.”

  “I thought you didn’t worry about them losing their fear of humans,” I said, dropping my voice to just above a whisper.

  “Yes, well, that’s the other concern,” said Rey, who didn’t sound nearly concerned enough for my tastes.

  I stopped talking.

  The rest of the walk through the forest was an exercise in silent terror. No one spoke, but Jack swept his flashlight constantly across the underbrush, drawing glints of light from more pairs of eyes that I would really have been happier not seeing. He didn’t shoot at any of them, and so I told myself that they weren’t a concern. I wasn’t really listening to me by that point. All my energy was wrapped up in sheer, heart-stopping fear.

  Jack stopped when we reached the edge of the trees. He turned, a small smile on his face, and motioned me forward. “Well, come on,” he said, very softly. “We kidnapped you so that you could see this. You may as well see it.”

  Common sense told me to stay exactly where I was until someone agreed to escort me back to the Jeep. Curiosity told me he was right: There was no point in my having come all this way if I wasn’t willing to see what was in front of me.

  I stepped forward.

  Jack’s flashlight illuminated a mob of maybe two dozen adult kangaroos. Some were grubbing at the ground, digging up sprouts and tender roots for their supper. Others lazed on the ground like oversized housecats, sprawled in a manner that was so undignified that it drew a smile unbidden to my lips. Joeys darted between the adults like tiny race cars, their tails lifted high and their ears pushed forward to catch the slightest sound. They were the same species as the kangaroos I’d seen at the fence, but they looked like they had come from an entirely different world. They were alert, aware, alive in a way that the other kangaroos hadn’t been.

  Rey leaned close enough to whisper, “Every adult here is either infected with a reservoir condition or is the grown offspring of one or more parents with a reservoir condition. They monitor each other. If an adult shows signs of amplification, the other adults move the joeys away until the danger is past.”

  The kangaroos seemed to have developed a more enlightened system of dealing with the Kellis-Amberlee infection than humanity had. I continued to stare. The research we’d recovered from the CDC had proven that reservoir conditions were the first step to coexistence with the virus, but this was… it was real. It was really happening, in front of me, and it made my heart ache in a way that I couldn’t put into words. I’d been a journalist for years. Words were my livelihood. But in that place, in that moment, there was nothing.

  I was so wrapped up in watching the kangaroos that I initially missed the change in
Jack’s posture. He stiffened, changing the angle of his flashlight beam so as to illuminate a previously ignored corner of the field. “We should go,” he said, not bothering to pitch his voice low.

  Some of the kangaroos were starting to raise their heads, and one of the larger males scrambled back to his feet. Slowly, I realized that whatever it was that had their attention, it wasn’t us: Not a single kangaroo was turning to look in our direction. I followed the beam of Jack’s flashlight and saw the eyes in the distance—eyes too high off the ground to belong to the wombat we’d seen before. Eyes that were getting rapidly closer.

  Juliet grabbed my arm. “Come on, tourist,” she snapped. I didn’t resist as she turned me around. I just followed her as we ran back through the forest. We weren’t trying to be quiet this time, and our footfalls seemed too loud for the night around us. The moaning of the infected kangaroos finally became audible as they closed in on the mob we’d come to see.

  We kept on running.

  6.

  The trouble with running through a dark forest in the middle of the night while being pursued by a mob of zombie kangaroos is all the damn trees. Juliet did a surprisingly good job of dodging around them, and as long as she kept her grip on my wrist, I wasn’t overly worried about slamming into anything. Jack had his flashlight, and he was urging Rey and Olivia along behind us. The moans were still audible in the distance. They should have faded out by now, and the fact that they hadn’t meant that at least one of the infected kangaroos had followed us into the forest, probably assuming that we’d be easy prey. They were right about that much. If we didn’t make it back to the Jeep before they caught up with us, we were as good as dead.

  “Great idea, Jack!” shouted Juliet as we ran. Apparently, keeping quiet was no longer much of a concern. “Let’s go past the fence and look at kangaroos so that Mahir will understand the importance of the research that’s happening here! Oh, and by the way, let’s get eaten while we’re out there!”

  “That’s exactly what I was thinking!” called Jack. The bastard was laughing. I very rarely wanted to punch anyone as much as I wanted to punch him in that moment.

  “Less banter, more run,” shouted Olivia.

  We ran.

  We ran until my legs felt like they’d been replaced with jelly and my lungs felt like they’d been replaced with something even squishier. The moans behind us continued, and I felt a surge of gratitude for the trees. If we’d been on open ground, the kangaroos would already have been on top of us. As it was, they couldn’t get up to full speed in the space they had available, and their disease-addled brains weren’t allowing them to realize that they could just go around.

  The Jeep couldn’t be much farther. I held fast to that thought as I forced myself to keep moving. Once we were at the Jeep, we’d have an engine on our side, not to mention the structural support of the frame. We’d be able to drive away from this hellish adventure, and never look back. We’d—

  Juliet stopped running so abruptly that I slammed into her. She put out her free arm, preventing me from toppling over. “We have a problem,” she said, voice suddenly pitched low.

  I followed her gaze to the Jeep, which was undisturbed, no kangaroos in evidence. Then I realized that something was moaning, something much closer than the mob that was even now trying to shamble its way through the woods. I looked down.

  My first impression of the fuzzy round creature staggering slowly toward us was one of near-overwhelming cuteness: It was like one of Sanjukta’s plush toys had somehow come alive and shown up for the zombie adventure. It was round, all of it, from its round little nose to its round little body, with stubby legs and tiny triangular ears. It also seemed remarkably solid for something so small; I got the distinct feeling that it weighed more than I could possibly guess just by looking at it.

  Jack and the others ran up behind us, and Jack swore. “The fucking wombat. How—”

  “Not sure that matters,” said Olivia. “It’s between us and the car.”

  “Well, I can’t lead it away,” snapped Jack. “Wombats are too damn slow, and they know it. It’ll stay where it is and try to pin us down.”

  “We’re being menaced by a teddy bear,” I said, barely able to believe the situation. “We’re going to die because no one can decide what we should do about the teddy bear.”

  “We’re not licensed to shoot a wombat,” said Rey.

  “Oh, for fuck’s sake.” Juliet released my arm and whirled, grabbing the gun out of Jack’s hands. I saw his eyes widen. In that moment, I think we all knew what she was going to do. No one moved to stop her. Juliet turned back around and shot the wombat three times in the head, grouping her bullets so that the entire top of the plump little creature’s skull was blown away.

  No one said anything as she turned and handed the gun back to Jack. The kangaroos continued moaning in the distance.

  “Come on,” she said. “Let’s go home.”

  “Marry me,” said Jack.

  Juliet smiled a little. “You can visit me in prison,” she said.

  7.

  We were in the Jeep and driving back toward the fence long before the kangaroos reached our position. I watched out of the rear window as they hopped out of the forest, pausing to nose at the fallen wombat. A few of the sicker-looking ones stopped there, satisfying the demands of the virus that had overtaken their normally herbivorous bodies. The rest followed us for a while, but quickly fell behind.

  “Almost there,” said Rey. The Jeep felt like it was going to shake apart around us. He was doing a remarkably good job of keeping it under control—and then I saw the lights of the fence up ahead of us, and stopped giving much of a damn about the Jeep. As long as we reached that beautiful fence line, everything was going to be all right.

  “We’re going to take a pounding tonight,” said Olivia.

  “Do you mean us, specifically, or the fence?” I asked.

  “Both,” she said. “Look.” She pointed to the fence. I squinted and realized that I could see guards through the glare. They seemed to be lined up, waiting for us.

  I groaned. “I’m getting deported.”

  “Look at it this way,” she said. “It’ll make a great story.”

  Rey continued driving straight for the fence, stopping with the bumper only a foot or so away. He cranked down his window, leaned out, and shouted, “Open the gate! This is an official research vehicle!”

  “There are no research trips scheduled for tonight, sir,” shouted a voice—Rachel. She sounded bloody pissed. I couldn’t quite find it in myself to blame her.

  “Come on, Rachel, open the gate,” shouted Jack. “There’s a mob behind us!”

  “You could be infected, then,” she said. “It seems like a huge risk.”

  “Rachel, please,” said Rey.

  “You are all arseholes,” she snapped, following it with: “Open the gate! Guns ready! This is not a drill!”

  Slowly—too slowly for my liking—the section of fence in front of us slid up, until Rey was able to drive the Jeep through the opening. The guards moved to surround us, keeping their guns trained on the break in the fence until the gate had closed again. Then they turned to train their guns on us instead. Much more reassuring.

  Guards walked up with blood testing units in their hands. “Very slowly, without letting your hands slip out of view at any point, I want you to each exit the vehicle and take a blood test,” said Rachel. “If any of you test positive, you’re all going into quarantine.”

  “Same old Rachel,” said Olivia amiably, and slid out of the car. The rest of us followed her.

  It was almost reassuring to be going through the old familiar “take test, prick finger, wait for the lights to stop flashing” routine. The infected kangaroos arrived about halfway through the process, beginning to fling themselves against the fence. None of the people I was with paid them any mind, and so neither did I, although it took actual effort on my part. One by one, our tests came back clean and were placed in
to the waiting biohazard bags.

  The last to get a clean test result was Juliet, whose reservoir condition doubtless confused things a bit. When her lights finally turned green, she dropped her unit into its bag before extending her hands in front of her, wrists together.

  The nearest guard promptly handcuffed her. “Juliet Seghers-Ward, you are under arrest for poaching,” he said. “Please come with me.”

  “See you at the arraignment,” she said.

  “See you at the wedding,” Jack said, and leaned in quick, stealing a kiss.

  Juliet was still laughing as she was led away. It seemed like there was nothing else she could do. The rest of us stood there, the kangaroos attacking the fence behind us, and watched her being taken.

  8.

  “Let me get this straight,” I said slowly, struggling to keep my temper in check. “Because Juliet was the only one to harm an animal, she’s the only one who’s actually in legal trouble, but she could be deported?”

  “Assuming a convenient Australia natural doesn’t somehow find his way into her cell and marry her, thus renewing her citizenship, yes,” said Rachel.

  I paused, my temper dimming as I perceived the overall shape of her plan. “Ah,” I said.

  “Naturally, I would need to be distracted for that to happen.”

  “Naturally,” I agreed. “Olivia is waiting outside. Would you care to walk with me?”

  “Since you’ve proven yourself to be a dangerously seditious element, yes, I believe I would,” said Rachel. She stood, walking around her desk, and moved to open the door. “Is your life always this exciting?”

  “Only when I’m very, very unlucky,” I said, and stepped outside… only to find myself facing what appeared to be another incipient riot. I groaned. “Such as now.”