Domain of the Dead (9 page)

“I don’t know,” Sarah said.

Dr. Robertson nodded. “No, I understand it’s been a busy day for you all, I dare—”

A loud crash drew their attention to the corner of the room as a metal lid thundered its way off the workbench onto the floor. Now open, a silver container bubbled a cloud of steam down its sides and onto the desk. Beside it, Jennifer stood, looking panicked.

With a calm, slow voice and an unblinking gaze, Dr. Robertson addressed the girl. “Back up slowly to Nathan now, Jennifer.”

Hearing the doctor’s measured voice, Jennifer shot a scared look at Sarah.

Gently, Sarah simply nodded.

As Jennifer backed into Nathan’s arms, Dr. Robertson opened a drawer and donned a thick, flame retardant glove. She retrieved the lid and secured it back onto the container.

“I’m sorry,” Jennifer said, with a tremor in her voice and a sheepish look on her face.

“It’s okay honey, just don’t go touching stuff in here,” Dr. Robertson said, replacing the glove.

“What is it?” Sarah asked.

“Just liquid nitrogen,” Dr. Robertson said. “Nut if she had spilt it on herself…”

“That’s that stuff you see on science programs where they dip a flower in and it shatters like glass,” Nathan blurted enthusiastically, keen to show his education included something other than shooting squirrel.

Bending down to eye level, Dr. Robertson spoke to Jennifer. “How would you like to go next?”

Jennifer nodded slowly, unable to refuse after her mishap.

“All this balloon popping,” Nathan began as he lifted Jennifer onto the gurney, “does that tell you how it started?”

Dr. Robertson looked at Sarah, who was wearing an apologetic smile. “Well, it reproduces using the host cell and sending out copies of itself cocooned in parcels of the cell membrane.” She looked at Nathan. “It’s kind of like wearing a space suit because the virus can’t survive outside the body.” Happy Nathan had grasped the analogy, she returned her focus to Sarah.

Sarah took her glance as in invitation for another question: “So it is dormant outside a host unlike a bacteria?”

“Well, here’s an interesting thing, Sarah,” Dr. Robertson explained. “Its envelop gives it a short window outside the body, no more than a few hours, but after that it dies. Some viruses can lie dormant almost indefinitely, but not this one.” She attached an automated blood pressure cuff on Jennifer without breaking stride. “This will go tight on your arm for a moment.” Looking back up at Sarah, she continued, “The virus appears to need to colonise the body to survive.”

The machine whirred as a motorised pump inflated the cuff.

“So if it doesn’t survive outside the body, are we the natural reservoir?” Sarah asked.

“No,” Dr. Robertson said as she unhooked Jennifer from the blood pressure monitor. “I don’t think so. It’s too destructive, too contagious and too quick. If it had been in humans before it would have surfaced—”

“Doctor Robertson,” a man in the crisp blue uniform said as he stepped into the examination room. Suddenly the cabin felt cramped.

The man was old but energetic, with a complexion that looked as weathered as his ship. He reminded Sarah of her great uncle. His stride was confident and his face reflected a hard fought life, no scars just well worn with rough and sagging skin. The man’s hat looked old in comparison to his uniform, as old perhaps as his thin translucent skin, but its millered perfection outshone the baseball style caps the rest of the crew wore.

“Captain Warden, let me introduce our guests.” Dr. Robertson gestured with her hand. “This is Sarah, Nathan and Jennifer.”

“Let me extend my sympathies,” Captain Warden said. “I hear from Private Bates and Private Chernov that you lost companions this morning.”

“We did,” Sarah said. Both she and Nathan dropped their gaze at the thought. Sarah composed herself. “Thank you, Captain. I don’t know what we would have done if your men hadn’t come along.”

“You’re lucky they did,” Dr. Robertson said as she labelled Jennifer’s sample. “I’m surprised you had the strength to make it to the helicopter.” She turned her head to face the captain as she worked on the samples. “Captain, both Sarah and Nathan are malnourished. Another few weeks and I don’t think they could have made it. I’ll give them all vitamin shots, but other than that it’s just a matter of diet.”

“Good.” Captain Warden looked around the small medical bay as if he were looking for some lost item. “I’ve asked Commander Patterson to arrange some quarters.” Unable to locate the imagined object, he addressed Sarah. “Once you’ve had time to get cleaned up, I’d like to invite you to the Captain’s table for supper. I’m sure we all have a lot of questions.”

Sarah and Nathan thanked him.

“Doctor Robertson, where
is
Professor Cutler?”

“He’s working on an important culture right now,” Dr. Robertson said, her voice flat and clipped.

“Wasting more specimens?” Captain Warden said.

Doctor Robertson put down what she was working with, turned and folded her arms. “No, he’s working on cultures. Those are the small round dishes.”

Captain Warden’s face flushed red as he jabbed a nicotine-stained finger in Dr. Robertson’s direction. “Don’t...” He lowered his hand and took an audible breath. He cast his eyes over the survivors before steeling his gaze once more on Dr. Robertson. “This is a conversation for later. In the meantime you have another patient to attend to.” Captain Warden called into the corridor, “Private Chernov.”

“Yes, sir,” Angel replied in her creamy Russian lilt.

She came to the door, but didn’t enter, unwilling to add to the already crowded room. Instead she stood in the corridor supporting her injured arm with her good one.

“What seems to be the matter?” Dr. Robertson asked.

Captain Warden stepped out of the line of view so that the doctor could see the deep purple bruise emanating from Angel’s elbow.

A disembodied voice billowed down the corridor, “Is the Captain with you?”

“Yes, Commander,” Angel spat out the harsh K like it was an insult.

“Ah, Commander Patterson,” Captain Warden said as Patterson popped into view from round the door. “Would you show our guests to their quarters? They’ve had quite a day and I’m sure they’d like to freshen up.”

“Certainly, sir. This way please.” Patterson beckoned the survivors out into the corridor.

Doctor Robertson called after the trio, “Before you go, we’ll need to monitor you for a few months. I won’t know for sure until I’ve run a few more tests, but it’s a good bet you’ve suffered liver damage. I’d recommend no alcohol until we’ve had a good few weeks of recovery.”

Sarah and Nathan nodded.

As they squeezed into the corridor, Patterson stepped past them back into the medical room. He reported, “Sir, we’ve have a weather update from the Azores. Hurricane Emily has changed course and is heading north. The leading edge should we with us in about six hours.”

“Damn!” The broken capillaries on the Captain’s face flared red again. “What’s the rating?”

“It’s a category three, which means we’re in no danger we can simply hove to, but...”

“But we can’t land the chopper in a storm,” Warden surmised.

“Idris has already refuelled and started pre-flight checks.”

“On whose orders?” Captain Warden asked.

“No one’s, sir.”

“Does he know about the storm?”

Patterson nodded.

“The times don’t add up, Mister Patterson. He’d never beat the storm back.”

“I agree, sir,” Patterson said.

“Very well. Tell Idris to stand down on the rescue mission.” Captain Warden covered his mouth with his hand and gently pinched his nose as if he were about to clear his cyanosis.

“Aye, aye, sir,” Patterson acknowledged as he exited. He nodded to Sarah and Nathan. “If you’ll come this way…”

“Now I’ve got two of my best men stranded on the mainland with no hope of a rescue until this storm passes,” Warden snarled out the last of his livid breath with, “All because of you!”

“What do you mean because of
me
?” Doctor Robertson said indignantly.

“You and your damn specimens!” Captain Warden looked ready to draw an angry fist along the row of blood-filled test tubes. “I’ve lost eight people because of your insane experiments, Doctor.”

“Losses are a regrettable part of—”

“If you and Frankenstein would stop wasting specimens…” Warden butted in. He shuddered and swallowed down his rage, standing contemplating for a moment, before speaking again. “Private Chernov, give me and the Doctor a few moments alone, please.”

“Aye, sir.” Angel turned and stepped down the corridor, still cradling her wounded arm.

Captain Warden closed the door to the medical bay. “Anything I should know about?”

“What do you mean?”

“The survivors!” Warden snapped.

“If you mean bite or scratch marks, then the answer’s no.”

“Any sign of the contagion?”

“No.” Dr. Robertson knew where the Captain’s questioning was leading. “If it does use a carrier I doubt any of them are it.”

“You’ll run the blood testing regardless.”

“Of course I will, but we’ve never found a symptomless carrier and I don’t think we ever will. It’s just too damned invasive.” Dr. Robertson could see the Captain’s jaw twitch. “And before you ask your next question,
no
it has not gone airborne on the mainland.”

“How can you be so sure?” Captain Warden demanded.

Dr. Robertson despaired at the Captain’s lack of scientific knowledge. She pulled her hand from her lab coat pocket and gestured in the direction the survivors had been led. “For one, these people wouldn’t have lasted this long if it had gone airborne. Secondly, I doubt there are any more survivors on the mainland to get infected. The contagion has effectively stopped spreading because there is no one left to spread it to. That means less chance for it to interact and less opportunity for it to mutate.”

Teeth clenched to hold back some of his anger, Captain Warden growled, “You said it yourself,
less of a chance
.”

“There is always a margin for error in science,” Dr. Robertson said unapologetically, “but it’s almost impossible.”

“Just as impossible as the dead attacking the living!” Captain Warden bellowed.

Dr. Robertson felt chastised. “That’s unfair, Captain, and you know—”

“Unfair or not I have to weigh every possibility. If I just had my crew to worry about then the scales would have tipped against you and your arrogant boyfriend long ago, but I don’t just have the responsibility of this crew on my hands, so you’ll have to excuse me if I’m cautious.” His brow furrowed as he remembered what had angered him in the first place. “Anyway, where is Dr. Frankenstein? I gave orders for both of you to examine the survivors.”

“
Professor Cutler
,” Doctor Robertson stressed the pronunciation of his name, “is in his lab and he doesn’t appreciate it when people call him that.”

Captain Warden violently brought his fist down on the work surface. The thump set the vials of blood shuddering in their stand. “Appreciate it or not, I gave orders for both of you to conduct the examination.”

Dr. Robertson’s jaw fell slightly open. “Professor Cutler was at a crucial point in his research and didn’t think it necessary to—”

“Necessary!” the Captain shouted.

Dr. Robertson flinched at the ferocity of the Captain’s bark.

“I’ve had it with him disobeying my orders. You tell him I want a report on his crucial research by nineteen hundred hours tonight.”

“The supply ship’s not due to pick up our research for another seven—”

“I said I want it on my desk tonight!”

Although stunned by the Captain’s aggression, Dr. Robertson was now angry at both the captain for being so disrespectful and at herself for taking it. She snapped, “Tell him yourself! I don’t take orders from you!”

To demonstrate her indignity she stepped past the Captain and opened the door to let him out. As she pulled the door open, Captain Warden took a grip of her arm. Dr. Robertson looked down at the rough hand squeezing her bicep. The grip was forceful and tight enough to cut off the circulation. Her first thought was to say
you’re hurting me
but she didn’t want to give him the satisfaction. He stared deep into her eyes. His were watery and pale, like the blue had been leeched from them by years of harsh weather. They sat in eyeballs the colour of parchment as if tainted by the nicotine of his habitual smoking. Trails of red blood vessels threaded their way over the tarnished white.

“As long as this is my ship,” Captain Warden hissed, “you and everyone on it follow my orders.”

“Or what?” Her defiance wasn’t past her lips before she regretted it. Warden could be dangerous but Dr. Robertson had faith that her special status would protect her. Her regret was that her lapsed restraint would bring down a tirade of complaining.

“I have the authority to destroy this ship and everyone onboard if I deem it necessary. You, me, your boyfriend, everyone. What makes you think I’d be any less willing to kill any one of you? Hell, you give me a reason to execute the both of you and this pleasure cruise is over.” He let go of her arm, subconsciously emphasising his point. “Me and the crew could sail straight back to St Helena for some R & R. There’s not a soul onboard who would say no to that.”