Colony East (36 page)

Abby rifled through every drawer in the desk, but didn’t find any blue pills. She began a systematic search of the office. She ripped open filing cabinet drawers and looked under stacks of paper. She frisked the pockets of a lab coat hanging on the hook. In a moment of mad desperation, Abby shook the nesting dolls, thinking Doctor Droznin might have hidden the pills there.

She checked her watch. It was midnight, and the building had five floors, perhaps two-hundred offices and labs. Abby decided she would search for the pills until two a.m. If she didn’t find anything by that hour, she would have to head for the East River. Crossing the river in darkness offered her only chance of success. Abby knew the personal risk she would take to leave empty-handed, but staying inside the colony posed a bigger risk. Outside the fence, she might die from the Pig or else get beaten up, or worse, trying to satisfy her insatiable appetite. Despite all that, something bigger was at stake. The survivors had to know what the adults were doing. Unsure of Toby’s condition, she might be the only voice who could tell them. She had to make it across the river and spread the word for as long as her strength held up.

The door opened and a powerful flashlight beam blinded Abby. Her adrenaline surging to every extremity, she was ready to kick, claw and scratch her way past the guard.

“I followed the drips of water.” The accent removed all doubt of the identity of the individual shining the light.

Abby shielded her eyes. “Doctor Droznin, please give me antibiotic pills. I only want three.”

“Three? Everyone in Colony East is receiving a pill. Or are you thinking of leaving the colony? You swam here. I suppose you think you can swim back to Brooklyn.”

“Just three pills. Please.”

“Abigail, I won’t give you a single pill. You are part of my control group. But you should know that statistics are in your favor. The mortality rate of AHA-B is thirty-four percent. Inside Colony East, there’s a sixty-six percent chance you will make a full recovery. Outside is a different story. Other variables would come into play.”

Doctor Droznin lowered the blinding light, a sign that Abby considered a positive gesture.

“I encourage you to stay,” the scientist continued. “What Doctor Perkins decides to do with you after he learns you broke into the clinic, of course, is unpredictable, but I think he might be impressed. He admires intelligence and courage. You and Lizette would make a significant contribution to the gene pool. Doctor Perkins might consider you an important seed of the new society.”

Abby’s eyes darted to the two-way radio Doctor Droznin held in her hand, and she started inching toward the doctor’s desk, where she had placed her pack. “What happens to the kids outside the colonies who get AHA-B?”

“That’s a variable we understand quite well from data we’ve collected near the equator. There will be widespread looting of food supplies. We project a population decrease of ninety to ninety five percent.”

Despite the bile that Abby tasted in the back of her throat, she felt her stomach growl in hunger. She moved closer and closer to her pack. Then she rested her hand on the desk, the backpack now within reach. “How do you feel about that Doctor Droznin? That ninety percent of the kids outside the colonies will die.”

Droznin paused a long moment. Abby couldn’t see her face in the shadows, just the outline of her body. “I feel terrible,” the scientist said. “I have not slept well since we received the first infrared imagery from the equator.”

Abby heard a softer, more caring tone in her voice and she began to wonder if Doctor Droznin might give her a pill. She decided she would take three or none. It would be the negotiation of her life.

Doctor Droznin scraped Abby’s face with the harsh beam of light and illuminated the nesting dolls. “The beauty of scientific inquiry is that it strips away emotion. Our population modeling shows that a hundred scientists cannot possibly sustain millions of survivors while at the same time advancing society. I may sleep poorly, but I have the conviction we are following the right model.”

Abby swallowed hard and slipped her hand inside the pack. Her fingertips touched the plastic container and worked their way deeper. “Doctor Droznin, who are you to say what society should look like? Millions of kids working together can do a lot.”

Doctor Droznin chuckled. “I hope your natural immunity protects you, Abigail. I like you.” The suddenness with which she brought the radio to her lips stunned Abby. “Headquarters, this is Droznin.”

Abby gripped the cold metal handle and pulled the gun from the pack. She pointed the barrel at Doctor Droznin. Her mind felt like a pond with minnows darting this way and that. She had a thousand thoughts, but she couldn’t focus on a single one.

A man’s voice crackled through the two-way radio. “Go ahead doctor.”

Doctor Droznin blinded her with the flashlight beam.

Shielding her eyes, Abby took a step toward her. “Drop the radio.”

“Doctor, go ahead, over,” the man said.

“You want a pill?” Droznin asked.

Abby tightened her grip on the gun’s handle and rested her index finger on the trigger. Sweat trickled down her brow and stung her eyes. “I want three pills.”

“Doctor Perkins has the pills in his office which is locked. Honestly, Abigail, I wouldn’t give you half a pill even if I had the key. I have dedicated my life to science.”

“Doctor Droznin!” The radio dispatcher spoke with a new urgency. “Please report in, over.”

Abby stared in disbelief as Doctor Droznin brought the radio to her lips and opened her mouth. With conviction and a steady hand, Abby aimed and pulled the trigger.

~ ~ ~

A projectile struck the window as Lieutenant Dawson peered into Cadet Leigh’s room. All seemed to be in order. He wondered if he should disturb her sleep to ask if she had written Mystic in the dust. He tiptoed over to her bed to see if she might be awake.

“Code Red. Gunshot heard at Medical Clinic 17.”

Dawson jumped at the dispatcher’s voice over his two-way radio. Code Red meant he must do bed checks for every cadet and report back to HQ ASAP. “Code Red. Gunshot heard at Medical Clinic 17.” Dawson lowered the volume.

All of a sudden, he realized it was a wig on Abby’s pillow. He picked it up and flung it across the room.

~ ~ ~

Abby slipped out of the front door of Medical Clinic 17 and heard the ‘be bo be bo be bo’ of an approaching Q-van. The ferocity of the storm muted the siren. Feeling as if the wind might lift her off her feet and send her flying down the avenue, she ducked behind the bushes along the front of the building. Realizing what had just happened, she started to tremble uncontrollably.

Doctor Droznin was in a lot of pain, but she would live. Abby had aimed the gun low, and the bullet had ricocheted off the floor and struck her knee. The scientist fell to the ground, shouting in Russian and bleeding from the wound. Abby responded immediately, relying on her experience as a medical first responder. She told herself the situation with Doctor Droznin was no different from caring for Derek, who had hooked himself in the ear with a triple-pronged bluefish popper. She bottled up her panic and went to work, making a tourniquet from the sleeves of a lab coat and the crowbar she’d packed. She twisted the crowbar until the bleeding stopped. She told Doctor Droznin to hold the crowbar and apply pressure. By that time, the scientist had quieted and had a strange look in her eyes, maybe thinking she had failed to account for the variable of getting shot. Abby had fled when the radio dispatcher said he was sending a team over.

The siren grew louder and soon a Q-van with red flashing lights pulled up in front of Medical Clinic 17. Sailors, carrying flashlights, piled out of the van and charged toward the door. Abby lay flat, spread out on the ground, pressing her face into a bed of wet pine mulch as boot heels thundered within feet of her head.

Because of the shooting, Abby knew she was public enemy number one at Colony East. Her only allies were Jonzy, who couldn’t do much for her, and Hurricane David. The driving rain and howling winds would make it easier for her to move without detection.

Crouching, she kept her eye on the van, thinking someone might be behind the wheel. When she realized the van was empty she ran across the street and started for the East River, ducking from alley to alley. Enough moonlight leeched through the shifting shades of gray clouds to let her distinguish large objects through the blur of water in the air.

Every few minutes a Q-van drove by, the driver sweeping a spotlight on both sides of the street. She had yet to see anyone on foot, but she imagined adults were fanning out from the clinic.

She waited in an alley for an approaching Q-van to drive by. Raindrops flew horizontally, and torrents of water rushed down both gutters of South Street. When the van had passed, she scurried to the sidewalk and thought she saw an entrance to the subway on the corner, a block away. The wind shear nearly knocked her off her feet as she raced into the street.

She gasped at the incredible sight. It was a subway entrance, though it bore more resemblance to a sinkhole draining a lake. A waterfall cascaded down the wide steps. A thought flashed across her mind. The only good thing about Jonzy’s capture was that he had luckily avoided this deluge.

~ ~ ~

Lieutenant Dawson got right in Billing’s face. “You lied to me!” Shaking with rage, he put his finger an inch from the cadet’s nose. “Someone fired a gun at Medical Clinic 17. Mister, you better pray that has nothing to do with Abigail Leigh.”

Dawson stepped back to breathe and slow his racing heart. Tears streamed down Billings’ cheeks as he cowered in a corner of the couch.

“Okay,” Dawson said. “This is your last chance. Tell me what’s going on.”

Billings looked up, and Dawson drew in his breath at the sudden change. Anger, not fear, filled the boy’s eyes. The cadet sat up straight and pulled his shoulders back.

“I’ll tell you what’s going on. They infected Abby with AHA-B. But you probably already know that. Because her sister survived, they want to see if the antibiotic saved Lizette or if it was her immunity.

“You’re the one who lied, Lieutenant. You feel guilty that you couldn’t help fifty thousand kids. Now you’re killing millions. But I’m glad you’re following orders.”

The words hit Dawson like a baseball bat. “Jonzy, where is she going? Where?”

Jonzy folded his arms and glared. The boy was now the only true leader in the room.

Dawson grabbed the map he’d found in the backpack and saw Pier 15 circled. With no time to spare, he raced out the door.

~ ~ ~

Abby descended into the darkness of the New York City transit system, trying to get her bearings. Her ability to pick the right subway tunnel—heading in the direction of Pier 15 could mean the difference between escape and capture.

She reached the first landing, flicked on her flashlight, and saw that she could go left or right. She went right, and from there, straight to an escalator. The pitch was steeper than the first set of steps and the opening narrower. A torrent of water funneled between the sides of the escalator, so she gripped the rail to maintain her footing and headed down.

At the bottom, Abby gulped when she discovered the tunnel had flooded. The entire transit system must be filling up with water. A black, oily river rose to within a foot of the platform. She watched a traffic cone float by at a good clip. At the same time, it was strangely peaceful. The only sound was the rush of water.

The momentary sense of calm evaporated as Abby wondered if she was trapped. She wasn’t about to swim in that black, oily mess, and climbing up the escalator, against the raging rapids, seemed a daunting task. Then she spotted a narrow metal platform that ran through the tunnel at the same height as the top of the trains. She’d guessed the platform had been built for maintenance crews. As long as the water didn’t rise much higher, the platform offered a way from station to station.

Training the flashlight beam, she approached the mouth of the tunnel. The walkway was two feet wide, and appeared easy to climb up to, and easy to navigate in the dark. There was even a railing.

Would it be difficult to climb out at the next station? Probably, but she’d worry about that when she got there. For now, the walkway offered the fastest way to put distance between her and Medical Clinic 17.

Turning the flashlight off to save batteries, she took baby steps at first. Then feeling more confident, she picked up the pace.

After several minutes, Abby clicked the light on and froze. Pairs of pink and red eyes sparkled ahead. Rats had also sought the safety of the platform.

“Go!” The silence smothered her shout. The glowing jewels remained fixed in the dark void.

Abby realized that she was in their underworld domain, and it would take more than shouting to scare the rats away. Cursing herself for ditching the gun, she rifled through her pack and wrapped her fingers around the hammer. She banged it against the rail. The vibration traveled up her arm as a twang rippled away into the darkness.

Abby waved the light to see if the noise had frightened any of them. She shuddered. It wasn’t two or three rats she had to deal with, but hundreds. They perched on the walkway for at least as far as the weak flashlight beam revealed, a constellation of sparkling rubies.

Gripping the hammer in one hand and holding the light, she approached the first rat. Its pink, whip-like tail curled on the grate. Two teeth jutted up from the lower jaw. Light-headed and numb, Abby had reached such a level of terror that she doubted she had the ability to command her muscles to move.

She swung the hammer and landed the blow an inch from the rat’s snout, much closer than she intended. The rat jumped and made a splash when it hit the water. It swam into the darkness.

Forging ahead, she cleared the next two rats the same way. She feared her heart might explode because it was beating so fast and hard. She confronted rat after rat. Some she scared into jumping by banging inches from their snouts. Others she had to poke. Several scrambled up her leg. She grabbed their tails and flung them into the air. The first one had elicited a scream. She dispensed the second rat with a quick grunt. The third, four, fifth, sixth and seventh rats were simply nuisances, and she kicked, tossed, and whacked them aside without a peep.