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Authors: Bonnie R. Paulson

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BOOK: Falling Apart (Barely Alive #2)
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Travis spoke, startling us both, his guttural voice scratchy and ill-used. “The vaccine needs to attack the enzymes ability to adapt.”

I twisted my head toward Connie. “Is he right?”

She nodded, slowly, and trained her gaze on him. “I’m not sure, but it would make sense. If the enzymes didn’t have the capability to adapt and evolve, even inside the original host, then it would stand to reason that the vaccines would not be successful in symbiotically allowing them into the blood stream.” She reached out a hand to Travis, but didn’t touch him. “Amazing. He’s faster than when he was human. Like me.”

Grandma Jean tapped Connie’s shoulder. “Honey, I don’t mean to argue, but saliva doesn’t have enzymes that evolve or adapt. That’s crazy Darwinism there, and blasphemous as well.”

Travis moved to the side. He crouched, hands up in a clawing position. Just as he was about to spring, I thought as hard as I could –
No. Sit.

I’ll be damned – already was, but whatever – if Duncan didn’t sit his ass right there on the ground. I’d never seen anything like it.

Connie’s jaw dropped. She stammered. “Ac-actually, you’re correct. It’s a theory that many liberal science colleges have merely accepted for the time being. Saliva is actually believed to have multiple enzymes that perform more than one specific job. The protector enzymes protect good oral bacteria from the – what we like to call – warrior enzymes which tear apart anything that doesn’t look familiar. Protector enzymes point the warriors in the right direction.”

Mom hmmd. “Would it be fair to assume that UNLV is a liberal college?”

Beside me, Connie nodded, warming to her subject. “Yes, actually. And to state a bit more simply – when I say evolve I mean affect a genomic change. Adapt means exactly what it sounds like. These enzymes are evolving whenever a virus comes in or a slightly familiar bug crosses the lips. Wash your hands? You better, because these enzymes do not do the job of a white blood cell. They tear apart food, in the most basic way. And that’s it. More sicknesses get in through the oral cavity than any other. Because enzymes are more concerned with the organic compounds and not so much the little invaders bent on achieving a host.”

Rather graphic, but I got it. The enzymes act similar to Dominic’s theoretical army might. They just want to eat, and once the meat gains a flavor they no longer want, they move on, ignoring what happens after. Like when I bit Heather. I didn’t know to watch for changes or death, but had I known, would I have stopped to check if she’d changed or died? Not likely. And the previous attackers hadn’t checked either according to the uncontrollable outbreak of Dominic’s virus.

Travis shivered. He wrapped his arms around himself and rocked back and forth.

I sidestepped Travis and motioned to Connie and James to follow. The expressions on their faces confirmed my insanity. I snapped my fingers and pointed at a spot behind the shaking man.

James arched his eyebrow and Connie jutted her jaw to the side. Yeah, I was rude, but get over it.
Hell.

When they reached me, I motioned to Travis. “Look, he’s not going to do anything. It didn’t take much but he’s acting like a bee I saw on the windowsill this morning. He’s cold. He can’t do much. He might be fine in the sunshine, but in the shade he’s moving toward dormant.” I acknowledged the cold with my own goose bumps. It’d been more than a few hours since my last meal. I could handle the cold for a bit longer, but Travis hadn’t eaten as a zombie and his reserves would disappear in no time.

James motioned toward Travis and kept his voice lowered. “He’s not even looking at them anymore. Paul, make him do something.”

Kneel.
But Travis didn’t move. I thought harder.
Kneel.

I barked the order, loud and clear. “Kneel.” But Travis didn’t respond. I widened my eyes, a plan forming.

Connie bent over her husband, her words biting from the few feet that separated us. “Are you done playing with him? I’m going to get him something to eat and then we can discuss this. Stop treating him like an experiment. He’s my husband.”

Yeah, who you experimented on,
I wanted to add, but kept my comment to myself. The lady could be awesome one second and high-and-mighty the next. If I were Travis, I might have changed myself just for the chance to escape her. But Travis wasn’t going anywhere and neither was she, so his plan – if that had been it – had backfired. Now they were stuck together, no sleep required, and had a problem to figure out or they’d die in a few months.

Like me.

Chapter 4

 

Dominic would have to stay with his army to control them mentally.

When Connie wasn’t watching, I tested Dr. Duncan to see what the distance of control was and just how far I could push him. James asked me if I could get inside Travis’s head, but I wasn’t ready to try. What if his hormones grabbed hold and I was there when his lust turned his mind into a porno show? Sick. I could barely handle my own thoughts, let alone a middle-aged man’s.

But the hold, depending on how much food he’d had, didn’t reach further than a mile. James and I communicated with handheld radios.

Connie joined me for dinner after James and I had tested three different runs. We’d killed a white-tailed deer and a mountain lion, interrupting the predator/prey game they were playing and claimed them for our own.

Meticulous didn’t describe Connie’s eating habits. I didn’t try to copy her. I was too hungry. Plus, she was a chick. They cared more about that stuff. Between mouthfuls, she brought up the topic. “I didn’t alter your saliva like I’d planned.”

“What?” I was engaged in my eating and not as quick on the uptake.

“I said I hadn’t altered your saliva before Travis injected himself. You might as well have bitten him.” She placed a reddish purple chunk between her lips.

I rocked back on my haunches as I processed the information. “Dominic doesn’t have a mental hold on me, but he has one on James. He synthesized the virus and injected me and a bunch of others, but bit James. Did you notice anything different between mine and James’s blood?”

Taken aback, she thought for several seconds. I could almost see the schematics running through her mind. Understanding spread across her face. “I’ve been looking for a similarity this whole time between the three of us, but I need to identify the differences and compare their locations. Did Dominic have any control at all over you or was it a placement of power?” Her brows tightened in concentration.

Had he controlled me? I swallowed the meat I’d chewed. The topic of Dominic pissed me off and also put me on edge. “Yeah, he hypnotized us from the beginning, trained us before that to understand what to expect. He made it sound more glorious than it is, but at least he prepared us for the hunger. He claimed we would supersede humans.”

“He hypnotized you. And now he has a specific connection to his victims. The markers might be in the same place, but constructed differently.” She pulled another piece of meat from the deer. “We might have to test Travis’s saliva.”

“We don’t have enough test subjects, Connie.” Willing or otherwise. The copper-flavored, warm meat released stress I didn’t realize I’d carried around with me. “Isn’t it crazy, how attached to the meat we are? I can’t think about anything else when it’s been a few hours since my last bite. Dominic didn’t feed us for days – well, we had sugars and non-meat foods, but they were crap. I functioned, but not well.” And I’d been more susceptible to mutinous acts. Another peg in my plan to dominate the bastard who’d changed me.

Connie sighed. “I wish all I thought about was eating. Travis is as horny as I am and we have to eat more just to keep up with our breaks between research sessions.”

I stared at her, frozen in the act of filling my mouth once more. The meat didn’t want to stay down, but I swallowed it, forcing the lump back to the dungeons of my stomach. A deep breath didn’t calm my nerves.
Ugh.
“Connie. That’s gross. I don’t want to know about that, ‘kay? I might throw up.”

Her face flushed – an ability she could attribute to the fresh carcass she’d almost finished. “Sorry. I’m not talking about it like we’re girlfriends or BFFs or whatever. I’m telling you on a strictly scientific level. I need to know the breaking point. What’s too far? Can we still procreate? And if we do, will we create another creature like us, or is there a chance the baby will be human?”

I ignored the sex talk. Her questions had run through my mind, too, although in a different context. Heather was old enough to conceive. I wouldn’t push her to have sex – even though sex was a priority for me along with eating, more so than the normal teenage boy… I think. But the thoughts were there. For hell’s sake, she slept feet from me, separated by a slim wood wall. I could break through that crap in a second. But the thought had crossed my mind about reproducing. I just never imagined I’d discuss the questions with Connie. “Or can one of us have… um…
that
with someone uninfected? Add that one to your list.” Heat flooded my face.
Great, I was embarrassed. Whatever.

“That’s a good one.” She fell silent, absorbed in her eating. Knowing Connie, though, she considered my questions along with her own.

But I couldn’t take another bite. Harsh reality needled me. “What if you could have a baby? What if you got pregnant, you’d only be pregnant for the three months you have left. That’s it. You’d condemn that baby to twelve weeks in your stomach. Is that worth it? You’d most likely have to watch as your body decayed around you. You’d see the fetus in your stomach.” I didn’t need to define the graphics, but I couldn’t stop. I couldn’t close my eyes and not see the potential of the situation. Sick and wrong and I had to… I clamped my bloody hand over my mouth and muttered through my fingers, “I’m sorry.”

She shuddered. The terror of the possibility had dimmed my cravings for Heather. Because what I hadn’t said was the grim thought that plagued me, involving my zombie child in Heather, eating her from the inside out.

I thrust myself to a standing position. Half the mountain lion would be a nice gift for James who’d opted to hang out at the house to watch out for the women. A slight twist of my upper body and the lion curled around my shoulders. “I need to head back.”

She peeled off a large slice of hide and tossed it to the ground by my feet. I scooped it up. Maybe Grandma Jean could do something with it.

“It’s been a little too real, Connie.” More real than I wanted. Couldn’t anything be left to the imagination? Unicorns? Sex? Zombies? Vampires? Hell.

The jog back cleared my head. Dodging overhanging branches and hurdling fallen logs smothered in green lichen and moss, I let the cooler breeze work its magic. I arrived at the house, sweat free and only slightly breathing hard. And hella surprised to find a flashy Hummer sitting in the drive.

Guns – not on me. Or knives for that matter. I didn’t have a single weapon.
Oh, stupid.
I’m a zombie-ish monster. I was the weapon and a pretty damn good one, too.

Ditching the large cat on the deck under the swing, I pummeled through the front door. Laughter echoed through the lower level of the house from the direction of the kitchen. Heather’s voice mixed in with others.

A deep voice said something and more laughter. A guy was there, probably to visit Grandma Jean. Maybe a rich old doctor who was trying to tap that old bird. Sick, but if I was old, I would, too.

I wiped my stained hands on my pants, smearing the denim with bright red streaks. Yeah, I was presentable alright. Hopefully, the rumors about Idaho were true and nobody thinks twice about a hunter looking like a hunter. I didn’t have to impress him, just not scare him into giving away our position.

Plush carpet in the hallway to the kitchen ate my footfalls. In the doorway, I paused to take in the scene and find the right time to politely interrupt rather than make a startling appearance. Neither happened when I found myself standing behind Heather and facing a man in his early twenties talking animatedly with  Mom, Grandma Jean, and Heather like he’d known them his entire life. The asshole had blond hair and some kind of deep blue eyes. I’d never seen a jaw-line like his before – unless you counted Clint Eastwood.

Holy damn, my ego shrank in my pocket. I ducked out of the doorway and into the shadows. I couldn’t focus on the conversation – just Heather’s voice asking something, his reply, and everyone’s answering laugh. The interloper focused the majority of his attention on Heather. And who wouldn’t? She was a beautiful
human
.

He was riding the uninfected train, too.
Bastard.

I clenched my fists at my side. Rather than run inside the kitchen and bite his ass to take the jealousy away, I jerked around and escaped outside. I’d rinse off with the hose – if I could handle the chilly water and the less than eighty degree heat. Who considered this summer weather anyway?

Barreling down the steps, I ran straight into Travis. With a hand on each arm, I steadied him. “Sorry, man. You okay?”

He fidgeted, his eyes unable to focus on me. I couldn’t make him look at me. There was something wrong with taking the control I’d been given and using it when it wasn’t necessary. I held him for another minute to make sure he wouldn’t drop and then released him. “Dr. Duncan, are you okay? You can talk to me, man.”

BOOK: Falling Apart (Barely Alive #2)
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