A New World: Untold Stories (17 page)

She awakes from a dream into darkness, unaware of where she is. She twists left and right to look for the one chasing her. She thought she had lost him with the last turn, but he kept appearing right behind her. Her rapidly beating heart is from the dream terror. Consciousness slowly enters and she realizes where she is.

I’m in Katie’s house. But that was so real
, she thinks, too frightened to move.

A thin stream of light pouring through the break in the curtains penetrates the dark and gloomily illuminates the living room. The areas beyond the light are pitch black as if the room is suspended in an inky void. Taking several deep breaths to calm her fear, she allows her heart beat to slow before rising. The shadows vanish as she turns on the lights.

Katie hasn’t moved and is moaning like before with her head turning from side to side. Between the groans, Trish hears a low growl.

She’s coming around
, Trish thinks, kneeling beside the couch with a glass of water in her hand.

A clock on the mantle shows that she slept nearly the entire night away. Her dry mouth certainly attests to the fact that she’s been out for a while. Taking a few sips from the glass, she attempts to trickle some into Katie’s mouth. While lifting Katie’s head, her body suddenly goes quiet and relaxes. Her eyes pop open. Katie snaps her vision to Trish’s and locks eyes.

“Katie, thank goodness you’re okay.”

Katie continues to stare fiercely.

“Katie…are you okay?”

Peeling back her lips, Katie snarls. She tilts her head back and opens her mouth wide…and screams.

With a quickness that takes Trish by surprise, Katie lunges at her. Trish is forced backward and raises her other hand up in an attempt to keep Katie’s face from her own. The glass hits her friend on the side of her cheek, spilling the rest of the water, which splashes against her forehead and in her hair.

Pushing against Katie, Trish rises and stumbles backward, her calves catching the edge of the coffee table. Unable to catch herself, she tumbles backward and falls across the table, her head hitting the carpeted floor on the other side. With an ear-piercing shriek, Katie rolls to her feet and launches herself into the air at Trish.

The shock of the attack and hitting her head so hard causes a momentary confusion, but Trish manages to roll her legs off the coffee table and onto the floor. She sees the shadow of Katie above just before feeling her weight slam down onto her. Trish’s own scream is lost beneath the sound of Katie’s high-pitched cry. She immediately feels Katie begin tearing at her. Her dress rips even more and pain erupts from her abdomen.

“Katie…Katie!
 
Stop! It’s me!” Trish yells, trying to keep Katie’s arms at bay.

Trish tries throwing her friend off, but can’t get any leverage. Katie is tearing at her like a maniac, her arms moving faster than Trish can stop them. She tries worming backward on the floor and manages a few inches before a searing pain flares from her stomach. Trish screams and writhes.

Through blurred vision, Trish sees the shadowed form of her friend arch up suddenly. A scream unlike any of the others pours from Katie’s open mouth. One side of her face turns a bright red. Katie claws at that side of her face and rolls to the side. Her legs kick against the carpet with her upper body turning back and forth. Shrieks fill the living room, shaking the very walls. Trish sees her friend arch her back, and suddenly go limp. The screams stop and the only sound is a last breath of air flowing out of Katie’s lungs.

Trish tries rolling to the side to rise but a searing pain in her stomach sends her back to the floor. She lies still, panting with tears of pain rolling down her face. She wraps her hands on her abdomen and feels a warm wetness. Ignoring the pain as best she can, she raises her head. She lifts her hands and sees they are covered in blood. Underneath, her dress is shredded with red soaking into the already ruined material. A deep gouge runs at an angle the length of the stomach. Through the slick red covering her, Trish sees several dark bulges poking through.

Her mind seizes at the sight and she feels faint. Swooning, her head falls to the ground. Only a cough, which sends spears of agony coursing through her, keeps her conscious. Gritting her teeth, she turns her head to see Katie lying as she was before, with a thin, faint beam of light from the rising sun falling across her body.

With one hand on her stomach, she steels herself and rolls to her stomach. She would scream from the pain if it wouldn’t cause additional agony. Instead, she grimaces and groans. Taking a few more breaths until the pain eases, one hand still holding onto her stomach, she pushes upward onto her knees and other elbow. Trish feels the bulges through the gash in her stomach push outward.

Holding her position, she forcefully blows breath outward, panting. Blood runs along her hand and arm, dripping to the carpet. Knowing she’s in bad shape, her focus narrows to getting upright, the events of the night and day prior gone.

“Okay Trish. You can do this,” she mutters, steeling herself to rise.

Taking a deep breath, she pushes upward using her free hand. She rocks back on her toes with her knees on the floor, whimpering as her mind goes red with pain. Vertigo threatens to send her back to the floor. Willing herself to stay semi-upright, her body rocks as she tries to maintain her balance. The pain eases.

“Okay, the hard part is over. All I have to do is stand,” she whispers to herself.

Using the coffee table with her free hand, she rises. Looking at her friend, tears roll down her cheeks.

“What happened, Katie? What happened?”

Katie’s face and hands are covered with what looks like a bad sunburn. Trish looks for any sign of breath, but finds none. Sniffing back her tears, she wants to look down at her injury, but is scared to. She feels the blood seeping through her fingers and the soft bulges edging out of the gouge. Stumbling, she heads toward the door, her hand pressed firmly against her stomach. The morning sun greets her at the door. She doesn’t know what went wrong or why her friend attacked, but the man’s words ring loud in her head – don’t go back to your friend. If you stay, you die.

Her only thought is to get some help, and the only ones she knows are alive are those she met the afternoon prior. It’s only about an hour drive to the creek where the man said they’d be. If she can hold out that long, they can help her. She painfully climbs into the truck and, one hand sticky with blood and the other holding her stomach together, she backs out onto the road.

She inhales and exhales with deep, forceful breaths as she motors down the road, heading toward the highway.

You can make it…you can make it…you can make it
.

Reaching the highway, she turns toward the mountains and Brown’s Creek. She’s so focused on getting help, she doesn’t even notice the drive-in just off to the side.

Okay, we made it this far…we can make it the rest.

The truck begins accelerating down the road. Suddenly, it begins lurching. The engine stops, catches, and stops again. Trish glances quickly at the fuel gauge. The needle lies below the “E”.

“No, no, no, noooo,” she says, not believing what is happening.

The truck dies and she coasts it to the side of the road by instinct. With the pickup halted, she leans her head against the steering wheel. She feels a warm flow down her waist and knows she’s sitting in a pool of her own blood. With her head still down, she reaches for the key in the ignition and turns it.

“Please start…please don’t let me die.”

The engine turns over but doesn’t start. She stops her attempts, feeling unsteady and light-headed. She begins to cry, but each sob sends a wave of pain through her. Looking up through the windshield, she sees another car off the road a short distance ahead.

Another car. Maybe it has the keys inside…and gas
, she thinks, her mind slightly befuddled.

Opening the door, she slides outside, catching herself with the handle to prevent falling. She tries walking in a straight line, but angles to the side where she half falls and half stumbles down an embankment.

Come on, Trish. You can do this
, she thinks pushing forward for the car in the grass alongside the road.

Her awareness keeps fading and she shakes her head several times to stay focused. The dizziness tries to take hold, but she forces her feet to keep going. Her focus narrows to that of getting to the car, her goal.

If I can just reach the car, I’ll be okay.

She stumbles and goes to her knees.

“Come on Trish. Get up. You’re almost there.”

She pushes upward with one foot to rise. Her equilibrium is off and she pitches forward to the ground, her cheek coming to rest on the ground. Stalks of grass rise in her vision. She feels her strength waning.

Funny, I don’t feel the pain anymore
, she thinks, staring at the blades which seem so thick.
I’ve never noticed that before
.

Her vision narrows to just the few grass stalks near her head.

Katie, I’m so sorry. I let you down. Mom…dad, I love you
.

She stares at the grass, her breath stirring up dirt with each exhalation. She watches the patterns form in the soil. She coughs once, sending a wave across the dirt, feeling something, well, let go from her stomach. She is sad that she didn’t get to see her parents and tell them that she loves them, her vision grays…and goes dark.

# # #

Trish is the woman in white that Jack saw by the side of the road as he was driving to pick up Robert, Nic, and Bri from their mother’s house. They missed each other by scant minutes.

Gabe Simons stares out of the tinted windows that cover an entire wall of his office. Five floors up, he has a view over much of the campus below. Sunlight pounds against the walls and park-like walks between the buildings. There aren’t many people to be seen as the heat and humidity keeps most indoors. Although the scene appears peaceful, he knows that chaos reigns inside the structures as everything seems to be coming apart at the seams.

This was supposed to be easy, but it’s been anything but
, he thinks, looking over the sunbaked landscape and thankful for the air-conditioning inside.
Nothing is going according to plan
.

It took him a long time to reach his current position as the director of the CDC. He remembers each step; the long years of schooling, the heat of the tropics as he accompanied teams into the depths of the jungles, hours spent in personal protection gear as samples of infectious diseases were gathered, many more spent in labs, and three divorces. Now that all seems for naught as the world is coming apart. The plan was for this to go smoothly, but that went out of the window with the genetic mutations occurring.

He hasn’t heard much of anything from the others in the past few days. The messages he did receive from several of his counterparts were vague and contained a sense of panic. He fully understands as he has a sense of that himself.

Swiveling back from the view, he looks at the piles of folders and reports stacked on his opulent desk. His eyes pass over his office with its plush paneling and rich carpets of deep blue. This was once his haven, his man-cave as it were. Now, it feels like his prison.

The folders contain the reports from his staff about the Cape Town virus and subsequent mutations from the vaccine. He had signed the notification for the cessation of vaccines, but he feels that the notice may have come too late. Some towns have virtually disappeared and reports say that many bases, especially those overseas, have ceased to respond to any communications. Although that alone wouldn’t cause the anxiety he feels, as most would have died anyway, it’s the lack of response from those who were to have inhabited the bunkers that worry him.

Sighing deeply, he starts through the reports once again. He stuffs the ones referring to the virus itself into their appropriate folders. It’s the reports from his staff regarding the mutations that he’s mostly interested in. With a lot of difficulty, they were able to grab several specimens, although it took a lot of tranquilizer to collect the infected. His people had them in the underground labs and were running tests. Some were to test the physical manifestations, others the abilities. The ones he is mostly interested in are the tests to see if the mutations can be reversed. So far, there hasn’t been any headway. They just haven’t had the time to conduct in-depth tests. His moratorium on refraining from the use of CT scans and MRI’s left many of his staff confused, but they shrugged and carried on. It also doesn’t help that they are short-staffed due to the virus.

There was a definite reason for that moratorium. He can’t allow them to discover the nano-bots. That will certainly raise a few eyebrows and send the tests and reports in a direction he doesn’t want. Other than observing increased aural, olfactory, and visual acuity, the staff isn’t able to draw much information. Without the MRI’s, they can’t look into their seemingly ferocious nature. According to some of the reports, there seems to be a certain percentage of the population that has a natural immunity and, with the preliminary results sitting in front of him, that immunity points to a familial connection.

Of course, that really doesn’t mean a whole lot other than something to keep in mind. The important thing is that the order to proceed to the bunkers hasn’t come through. And the time for such an order is rapidly closing. Social systems are collapsing under the weight of the dead and mutations. If they wait too much longer, there won’t be anyone to staff the locations. This also means that there won’t be anyone to emerge after everything dies down…so to speak.

If he had even an inkling of what was going to happen, if it was going to come down like this, he would never have agreed to join the coalition. That’s how he thinks of it anyway. He isn’t exactly sure who is running the show, but he knows a few of the others who were recruited. Most have various code names they use in their communications, but he had to know a few personally so they could enact the plan.

His intercom beeps, startling him out of his thoughts. He had only been cursorily reading the reports. Most of his thoughts were focused on getting information from which they might recover from this fiasco. He doesn’t see much hope of this, but the others are relying on him for information. Right now, he is the center point. Well, he was anyway. With the lack of communication lately, he’s not sure who is left to receive his reports. The only thing he knows for sure is that the command facility near Denver is manned…and that he can’t stay where he is for much longer.

His secretary informs him that the lab supervisor is waiting outside with more reports and asks if she should send her in. He usually has two assistants to handle his calls, appointments, and travel plans but, with the vast amount of illnesses, he is lucky to have one.

“Yes, send her in,” Gabe answers, releasing the button.

The door opens and the supervisor enters carrying an armload of folders. Without a word, she walks to the polished conference table to one side of the room. Setting down the folders, she shuffles through them, picking out one. Walking to his desk, she slides the folder on top of the others. No words are spoken in the process. They’ve worked together for many years and have established the kind of working relationship that doesn’t always need spoken words.

“Here are the autopsy reports you asked for. We’ve finished with two of the cadavers and they show the same increases in heart, lungs, and fast-twitch muscles. You’ll note that the ocular and auditory system increases are consistent with the abilities we’ve been able to discern. Along with the nasal structure,” she says, nodding toward the papers poking out from the folder.

“Thanks, Jan. Any luck with determining a solution for reversal?” Gabe asks.

“Ha! No. And I doubt we’ll find anything before everything falls apart for good,” Jan states. “Perhaps if you lift the order restraining the use of scans, we might be able to find something.”

“Perhaps you should pack your stuff up and leave,” Gabe says, ignoring her last comment.

They’ve worked for a long time together and Gabe would feel bad leaving her in the lurch. He can’t take her with him, but he feels she should be given a chance at survival. And that means anywhere but here in the city.

“Why? Where would I go? There’s still a small chance that we can figure this out before we tip over the edge,” she comments.

“I seriously doubt that…as do you. You know what’s coming as much as anyone. You’re too smart not to have figured that out.”

“Do you really think this is the big one?” Jan asks.

“Don’t you? Look around. You’ve seen what we have in the quarantine rooms. Those are everywhere. Can you seriously tell me that you don’t think we’ve finally bumped into the big one?”

Jan looks around the room, settling her gaze on the pile of folders. They’ve always known something would emerge that had the potential to wipe out humankind. Like a volcano or massive earthquake, it wasn’t a matter of ‘if’, it was a matter of ‘when’.

“No,” is her only reply.

“Then pack your stuff up. Consolidate your notes and bring them to me. Tell the staff to finish what they’re doing and forward their notes to me by three. Then I want you to leave until this all blows over,” Gabe says.

“Do you think it will blow over?” Jan asks.

Gabe gazes into her tired eyes without saying a word. It doesn’t seem odd to him that he would be part of a plan to bring about the downfall of humankind yet still try and save some of his staff, especially Jan.

“Okay, then. I’ll have all of the files transferred to you by the end of the day. I’ll tell the staff to wrap up their projects and clear out. I feel bad about not staying to figure this out, even if we had to go into seclusion somewhere to do it. But, just so you know, Gabe, I’m taking a copy of the reports and some equipment with me so I can continue. I may not have specimens to work on, but I’m continuing with this,” Jan states.

“I expect that from you and wouldn’t have it any other way. Take what you need.”

Jan nods and exits.

Gabe opens the new folders and begins perusing the files. He usually only reads the synopsis provided by his staff but, with how important it is, he examines each file. There isn’t much new information; it’s really more of a validation of what they had already guessed. They were essentially dealing with an entirely new species of humankind.

Late afternoon arrives. Jan brings a few additional folders, most of which are summaries of what they’ve learned. She deposits the folders, picks up a couple of others to take with her, and they say their farewells, agreeing to phone each other when things stabilize.

“Jan,” Gabe says as she puts her hand to the door handle. She turns. “Stay out of populated areas.”

Jan gives her familiar nod and leaves. That was the last he ever saw of her.

With the sun lowering in the light blue sky, Gabe puts his findings into a memo. He’s made up his mind, he’s not sticking around any longer. Most reporting agencies have gone off the air and he hasn’t received any real new news throughout the day. He’s not waiting for an order that might not ever arrive. The bitter end is fast approaching and he’s not going to be around for it.

He fires off the memo containing the latest test results to the addresses listed. They usually corresponded in code and used messages in the form of spam, going through a series of proxy servers. However, he bypassed those and sent the message in the clear, detailing his thoughts and concerns that others might not make it to their bunker locations if they didn’t go now. Of course, deep down, he knows it is already too late. For whatever reason, the order to go either didn’t get sent, or it didn’t reach those intended.

Besides the reports, findings, and concerns, his messages said that things were falling apart and that he was heading for bunker complex number nine, his assigned bunker. The message indicated to expect him within two hours depending on traffic. He knows of the other bunker locations and keeps them on his hard drive. That is against his orders, but he keeps this and other forbidden items there anyway. He has a secure tunnel into his work computer as, with all of his traveling, he never knows when he will need the things on it. All through his years, he’s relied on being able to access information rather than trying to remember it all.

Stacking the folders in a neat pile, without really knowing why as he doesn’t plan on returning, Gabe places an external hard drive in his leather briefcase and snaps the lid closed. He takes one last look, knowing it will be the last time he sets foot in his office. He is nervous about leaving. Once he walks out of the door, he will be departing to his other life once and for all. Of course, it’s not that he didn’t embark on it a while ago but, until now, that other life was his alter ego. Now it will become his identity and this will be closed to him forever.

The sun settles farther into the afternoon sky, heading for its rendezvous with the horizon. Gabe knows he should be feeling melancholy about leaving for the last time, but his worry over what he’ll find upon reaching the bunker overrides everything else. He doesn’t ponder his decision to become a part of the group that enacted the downfall. He wasn’t privy to the plan upon his recruitment, only afterwards. However, he knew something big was up by the way they approached him and, with his experience of the world, knew that whatever was being planned would be enacted with or without him. He wanted a ticket in and, looking at the world as it headed for evening, and all that has transpired, he’s glad to have made that choice.

It wasn’t that he didn’t care for humanity. He did. He started his life in epidemiology with the hopes that he could make a difference…save people. In a way, he feels he is doing that very thing. People die during research and in the pursuit of knowledge. This is really not that much different, just on a larger scale. And, he’d become jaded during his many years in the field.

The spread of humankind unearthed things that would have been better left untouched. The constant push of civilization outward into unexplored territory brought horrors that were better left undiscovered. It was only a matter of time before the ‘big one’ was unearthed, so this was going to happen regardless. This way, it was controlled. At least that’s the way he thought about it. Seeing everything spiral out of control like it has, altered his thinking to a degree. Looking at the reams of paper stacked on his desk, he feels that he should have seen the failure of the plan coming.

It’s a little too late to be having those thoughts now
, he thinks, heading to the door.

He shuts the door and tells the secretary, still at her desk, that he’s leaving for the day and she can go if she wants. It’s not long before the actual end of the day, but she thanks him and begins loading personal items into her purse. Walking down the pristine corridor to the elevator, he notes the almost empty hallway. Usually, it was full of staff on one errand or another. The sickness took its toll on the CDC. Plus, there are still many teams in the field trying to combat a losing endeavor. Entering the elevator, he punches the down button and waits for the slow ride to end.