Deadland Rising (Deadland Saga) (S) (23 page)

I counted the fence posts in the quarter mile connector between the silo and the burnt-out city as Zach and I jogged. We jogged for exercise and for warmth. We didn’t stop until we reached the next gate. Here, one guard watched while the other opened the gate for us, and we hustled through.

The gate closed behind us. I pulled out my machete. Before us stood the ruins of New Eden. Even though the fences remained, the town now had a forbidding presence. It could’ve been the lives lost here, or the hopes crushed. Either way, I no longer enjoyed walking these streets. Zach felt the same. Both of us were on edge, and neither of us spoke while we patrolled the “old” New Eden.

Justin believed we could rebuild the town in the spring. I offered up the idea of relocating the town to Fox Park, but many New Eden residents clung to the silo’s safety. The majority of the town wanted to convert the silo into a permanent home, but some contemplated relocating to Moose Jaw to be a part of the new capital. I suspected that, come spring, some groups would leave the silo. I was planning to be in one of those groups.

Hiding underground was no way to survive.

The walk to Dr. Gidar’s lab was short. The small cluster of surviving houses sat on the western end of the town, near the silo. The snow had been trampled down and was now as hard as the street below it. We didn’t jog, because there were too many icy patches, but we still walked briskly.

I hurried up the two steps to the front door and stepped inside. The kitchen had been turned into the lab, while the zed kids had been set up in a baby pen in the living room.

Like Zach did every time we came here, he walked over and watched the boy sitting in the pen. The kid was watching a cartoon on a tablet computer they’d evidently charged off the generator. Zach seemed as captivated with the boy as the boy was with the show.

Currently, the little girl was in the kitchen, and Dr. Gidar had his stethoscope on her chest. The girl kept reaching for the instrument, and the doctor kept brushing her hand away. Hugh stood by and watched, slowly shaking his head. Bonnie was sitting at the kitchen countertop, placing droplets of a clear liquid on slides.

“Child B’s heart rhythm is normal,” Dr. Gidar said while Hugh jotted down notes. The doctor handed the stethoscope to the girl, who took it and examined it, making the metal reflect the light.

I set the box of cotton swabs and a few rolls of toilet paper on a table. “You still haven’t named them?”

“They have names already,” Dr. Gidar replied. “If they can learn to speak again, they’ll tell us those names.”

I shrugged. “Whatever you say. I still think they’d like to be called something else besides ‘child.’”

“Do they look like they care?” Hugh said. “They’re infected. They’re a few fries short of a Happy Meal.”

“Now, Hugh,” the doctor said, “we don’t know the extent of their brain damage yet. That they understand language and don’t require diapers signifies some level of advanced cognitive function. Even more so, the boy had opened tin cans of food and kept both him and his sister alive for six months. That is not a sign of severely limited brain function. I suspect the virus targets the prefrontal cortex, but I don’t have the equipment to run the tests I need.”

“What do you need?” I asked.

“An MRI scanner, to start with,” the doctor replied.

I smirked. “Good luck getting one of those.”

“I know, I know. We’re trying to continue modern medicine in a Dark Ages world. I’ll make do. It will take longer, but I’ll make do.”

I watched while he prepared a syringe. “What’s that?” I asked.

He looked up. “Prednisone. It’s the only drug we have that helps her asthma.”

As he injected the young girl, she snarled and snapped at him, and he jumped back. I lunged forward with my machete raised, but Dr. Gidar jumped in between us. “Don’t harm her.”

I slowly raised my weapon. “You do realize that if she bites you, you’d very likely become infected?”

“Possibly, not likely,” he said. “My tests have shown these two children have fought the virus into remission. If she bit me, yes, she would transmit the virus, but she also may transmit the antigen her body has created to fight the virus.”

“Then, you’d be like her?” I asked.

He scowled. “That is undetermined.” He turned back to the girl and took her new toy. “Well, aren’t you peckish today.” He shook his finger at her. “No biting.”

Once she settled back down, Dr. Gidar motioned to Hugh. “We’re finished for now.”

Hugh gingerly picked up the small girl as though she were a baby with soiled diapers. He carried her over to the pen and warily set her down. She moved to her brother and became instantly entranced by the show. Hugh took a step back with haste. Distaste wrinkled his features as he looked at his hands, and he disappeared around the corner. I heard the splashing of water seconds later.

I watched the children. Except for their jaundiced eyes and skin, they looked like any other kids slouching in front of a television, watching their favorite show. What went on in their heads? Did they feel fear or hunger or sadness and couldn’t convey their needs? Or, were they vegetables, going through the motions of a child but truly a zombie inside?

“Are the kids showing any improvement?” I asked. “Do you think they can recover?”

“It’s too early to tell,” Dr. Gidar said. “Their health has improved, but for their ages, I’m amazed the children survived for six months out there alone. They were fortunate to have been left inside a restaurant stocked with plenty of food and safely out of harm’s way. In fact, I suspect the children locked themselves inside there during the outbreak. They clearly show signs of intelligence.”

“I’ll take your word for it,” I said. “I’ve never seen a zed with a fraction of those kinds of smarts before.” I looked down at my watch. “Well, Zach and I need to get back on patrol. If you need anything else from the silo, make a list for someone to pick up tomorrow.”

“I do have one thing I need,” Dr. Gidar said as Zach and I walked toward the door.

I paused and slowly turned. I already knew what he’d ask for. He asked for the same thing for every day. “Listen. We can’t go pick up Henry until the snow melts off the roads a bit.”

“But, I saw the snowmobiles in the garage,” he countered.

“No one wants a zed—or whatever Henry is—riding along behind them. The risk is too high.”

“I’ve isolated the antigen,” he said. “Only if I have different blood to test—blood that is unrelated to these children—will I know that the antigen is universal.”

“I give you my word,” I said. “As soon as the snow gets below three inches, I’ll take a truck out to find Henry.”

“Trucks can handle deeper snow than that,” the doctor grumbled and then stepped over to Bonnie.

He said something I couldn’t hear, and she looked up, aghast. “No, doctor. You can’t.”

“This is not up for discussion,” he scolded.

She took a syringe, dipped the tip into the liquid she was working with, and pulled back the plunger. Dr. Gidar rolled up his sleeve.

A foreboding feeling built in my gut. “What are you doing, Doctor?”

When Bonnie held up the syringe, he snatched it from her hands and held it in the air. “You know me. I am not a foolish or impetuous man. But, developing a vaccine is more important than anything else we do. Yet, my team has been ostracized, and my work has been shoved into a freezing corner of a dead town. I do not want to do this, but I must. I will not put my team at risk, so there is no other choice.”

“You always have a choice,” I said.

“This,” he held up the syringe, “is the antigen I’ve created off these children’s blood. I have 94.5% confidence that this antigen will equip our bodies with the antibodies we need to fight off the zonbistis virus without loss of cognitive function. I could raise the level of confidence by at least one percentage point with a third test subject. But, I know when I’m being stonewalled.”

“You’re not being stonewalled,” Zach said emphatically.

“We have to play things safe,” I added. “When the roads are covered in snow, we could drive over a chunk of metal and shred our tires. Be patient a little longer.”

“Patience I have, but not when it comes to delay tactics, one after the other. My work will never be taken seriously until after it’s too late. People need vaccinated against this virus
before
they are bitten.”

He took a deep breath. “I had a good life. I was giving a speech at Marshall on the day of the outbreak, and it was by a series of miracles that we survived. We did survive, and we had all the facilities we needed to work on a vaccine. We made leaps and bounds during the months we spent at Marshall, but were never able to isolate an antigen. Then, the herds came, and we were forced to leave everything behind except for my journals. For weeks we ran, until we stopped at a gas station for the night and found these two children—clearly infected yet non-violent—hiding in a small café. Within a week after studying their blood, I had reached a major breakthrough. These children gave me more than their blood. They gave us all hope there could be a world where the virus didn’t dominate. Entire families have been wiped off the face of this planet for eternity, but the world will continue.”

He smiled. It was a sad smile, devoid of anything. “Hope demands sacrifice. And, every vaccine needs its first live trial.”

“Don’t do this,” I said.

“No, doctor!” Bonnie yelled, and the kids started to grunt in response.

Features tight, he injected the syringe into his arm. He pulled the plunger slightly and a tiny burst of red entered the syringe like a red lily in a clear field. Swallowing, he pressed the plunger down, and the liquid disappeared into his vein.

I stared as he pulled out the needle. “What have you done?”

He looked at the syringe before looking up. “I did what had to be done. Now, we’ll see if my research is correct or if I’ll become a test subject.”

Chapter XVII

It took only twelve hours for Dr. Gidar to develop a fever. He said it was normal, but as his fever worsened, he couldn’t hide the doubt in his eyes.

Justin and Clutch had both agreed Dr. Gidar needed to be quarantined until we could prove he was safe. Zach and I were assigned to watch him twenty-four/seven. We rotated shifts, and our days became alternating six-hour shifts. Hugh and Bonnie were allowed to return to the silo, but both had chosen to stay in the lab with Gidar and the kids.

The only people allowed to enter or leave the lab were Justin and Clutch. Even then, Justin had stopped in only once, on the first day. Griz had taken on much of Clutch’s duties, so Clutch could be at the lab for much of each day. I could tell he hated that I was caught up in this mess, but he never voiced it. Instead, he hung out and kept a close eye on both Dr. Gidar and the kids.

Jase and Hali stopped by our porch at the beginning and end of their shifts, staying to chat through the window as long as they could. The others stayed in the silo, and I couldn’t blame them. It wasn’t exactly fun hanging out in an 800-square-foot house in the middle of a town graveyard and listening to the howls every night.

“Water,” Dr. Gidar said weakly, and Bonnie rushed over with a glass.

Dr. Gidar worked until the third day, when he was too sick to continue. He still directed Bonnie and Hugh to run tests, this time on his blood, but neither had any kind of background or expertise.

The doctor now lay on the couch, while the kids watched the same cartoon they had one hundred times before. When Bonnie took the glass away, he struggled to sit up, and I rushed over to help. Clutch came to his feet and stepped closer.

“You must promise me something,” he said.

“I know, I know. I need to bring Henry here,” I replied.

He shook his head. “It’s too late for that now. You need to bring my research to someone who can continue it.”

I frowned. “Um. I would if I could, Doctor, but I don’t know any hematologists around here.”

“I know, but the government would have teams working on a vaccine.”

I nodded, but we hadn’t heard from the capital since the fires. “I’ll try.”

“No.” He shook his head harder and pulled out a slip of paper. He held it out, and I grabbed it. He continued. “You must promise me that you’ll deliver these items to the capital. You must do it soon, before the samples start to break down. Bonnie can direct you on the temperatures they need to be maintained at.”

I read the list. His journals, blood samples from the kids, him, and Henry, and the antigen samples. I handed the note to Clutch and watched him as he read it.

“I’m dying,” Dr. Gidar said. “But my research will save countless lives. That’s why I need you to bring it to the capital. I know you’ll have to leave the safety of New Eden. It’s dangerous out there, but I remember your father telling me you had become a pilot.” He smiled. “He was so proud of you. He spoke of how you succeeded at anything you set your mind to. You’ll make it through.”

He coughed and winced. Blood speckled his lips. “Your father was a man of his word, so I’m counting on the same from you. I need your word that you’ll deliver these items to the capital as soon as you can.”

I looked at Clutch, pleading for I don’t know what in my gaze. He watched me, his jaw hard but his gaze soft. “If you do this, I’m going with you.”

I gave a tight nod and inhaled deeply. “You have my word, Dr. Gidar. I’ll deliver your research and samples to the capital.”

“Good,” he said, and he sank down into the couch.

He died several minutes later. Clutch and I stood there, Clutch with his sword, and I with my machete, ready for Dr. Gidar to awaken.

Thank God he never did.

We waited an hour before we let Bonnie check his pulse and take several blood samples. We carried him out the back and placed him in the wood coffin Hugh had built. The two of us stood outside, and I went to close the coffin, when Clutch put a hand on my arm. He pulled out his knife. “We need to play it safe.”

I nodded and took a step back as Clutch stood by Gidar’s head. I watched Clutch lift the blade and bring it down. No blood splattered, but I knew Clutch hadn’t missed. He shut the coffin and we headed back inside.