Indestructible: V Plague Book 7 (8 page)

Joe rode beside me and I talked as we worked our way east. 
I told him about the razorbacks, and the bats I’d seen in Texas.  As we moved
he calmed and began thinking about what I was saying.  He asked a lot of
questions I couldn’t answer, then began making some of the same assumptions
that Rachel had when we had first encountered infected wildlife.

“We didn’t know it was communicable to other species,” he
said after I was finished with my horror stories.  “We didn’t even test for
that.  I guess from a purely scientific standpoint it doesn’t matter.  Wouldn’t
have changed any of the approaches we were trying.”

I didn’t know what to say to that.  The concept of studying
and understanding viruses and how they work was something I knew nothing
about.  It was something that every time I read or heard about, sounded like
science fiction.  Very scary science fiction.  How the hell do you fight when
something as simple as taking a breath or a drink of water could be the last
thing you do?

“Maybe we should have been working on a Terminator virus.” 
He mused.

“What’s that?”  I asked, shifting my aching ass enough to
get a little relief without sending the horse in a direction I didn’t want to
go.

“Something one of the senior researchers at the lab was
talking about.  It’s like… well, how much do you know about how a virus
works?” 

“They make you sick.  Not much more than that.”  I said,
wondering where he was going with this, but curious nonetheless.

“OK, I’ll dumb this down as much as I can.  A virus isn’t
alive.  It’s not an organism like say bacteria.  It’s just a tiny little bundle
of genetic material, DNA or RNA, surrounded by a protective coat, called a
capsid, which is made up of proteins.  When viruses come into contact with host
cells, they trigger the cells to engulf them, or fuse themselves to the cell
membrane, so they can release their genetic code into the cell.  Basically they
hijack the host.

“Once inside a host cell, viruses take over its machinery to
reproduce. Viruses override the host cell’s normal functioning with their own
set of instructions that shut down production of host proteins and direct the
cell to produce viral proteins to make new virus particles.  That’s why we feel
sick.  The virus is making our body’s cells do something different than what
they’re supposed to be doing.

“Some viruses insert their genetic material into the host
cell’s DNA, where they begin directing the copying of their genes, or simply
lie dormant for days, years or a lifetime. Either way, the host cell does all
the actual work: the virus simply provides the instructions.

“Viruses are able to infect and reproduce in more than one
kind of animal, but the same virus can cause different reactions in different
hosts.  Flu viruses infect birds, pigs, and humans.  While some types of flu
viruses don’t harm birds, they can overwhelm and kill humans.

“What we do know about this particular virus is that it’s
elegantly simple.  It only has two instructions for the host cells.  First,
brain cells where it rewrites the host’s DNA and causes both rage and triggers an
exponential increase in output from the adrenal, thyroid and pituitary glands. 
That’s why the infected are so strong and tough.

“Second, and we were just starting to look at this, it
invades the nervous system.  It… ok, the best way I can describe it if you
don’t have a bio-engineering degree is that it amps up the nervous system. 
Hearing, smell, taste, touch, and vision.  And it drastically improves your
reaction times.  It’s like a super charger for your senses.”

I had been listening closely and understood most of what he
was telling me.  I’d seen infected behave in nearly superhuman fashion.

“But why the difference between males and females?”  I
asked.  “And why are the males blind?”

“Human physiology,” he answered, sighing when he saw the
blank look on my face.

“OK, I’ll try.  Male and female bodies are different, not
just in appearance, but there are also basic physiological differences. 
Different organs, different chemistry and they use their brains differently.  I
could spend hours detailing the subtle differences, so you’re going to have to
trust me that they’re there.”  He said.

“That male and female brains are different?  You don’t have
to convince me of that.”  I said and he smirked at me before continuing.

“So are the nervous systems.  Not so different that it
matters, normally, but different enough that once the virus corrupts the host’s
cells, there’s a different end result.  What is a glaring difference between an
infected male and female to us is a tiny fraction of a percent difference at
the genetic level.  Personally, I believe that the virus was developed and
tested by researchers who only used female test subjects.  They probably didn’t
know it would be different in males, or they would have tweaked it a little.”

“OK, but why are the females getting smarter?”  I asked.

“They aren’t getting smarter, the virus is mutating and having
less of a detrimental effect on their higher brain functions.  Think of it this
way.  Have you ever used a copy machine to make a copy of something?”

I nodded, wondering where the hell he was going with this.

“Good.  The copy you made wasn’t quite as perfect as the
original, right?  Now, what happens if you make a copy of the copy?  And then a
copy of the copy of the copy, and so on.  Each copy will be progressively
different from the original until eventually you could place a thirtieth
generation copy next to the original and couldn’t tell they were the same
document.

“This is really over-simplifying it, but the concept with
viruses is the same.  Every time a strand, or any fraction of a strand, of DNA
is copied there’s a possibility for something to go wrong.  And it does.  All
the time.  That’s why there’s a different strain of the flu virus every year. 
It’s not technically a new flu virus; it’s just a mutated version that came
about because nature isn’t perfect. 

“So, with the virus lose in the world it has been
replicating in host organisms and has obviously started mutating.  That’s what
you’re seeing.  Something in the DNA code didn’t copy correctly and the effect
of the virus has changed.  Does that make sense?”

I thought about what he said and it did make sense.  Sick,
twisted sense, but from what I knew about China it didn’t surprise me at all to
consider that they had used females as test subjects.  Maybe I was being
unfair, but they didn’t exactly have a good track record when it came to how
they treat women. 

Or unwanted female children, I thought with revulsion at the
mental image of a lab full of little girls being continually exposed to
different versions of the virus until the scientists were satisfied with the
result.

“So what’s this Terminator thing you mentioned,” I asked,
shaking my head to clear the horrible images our conversation was fostering.

“You map the DNA of an invading virus, which we have.  Using
that map, you engineer a new virus with DNA that will target it and shut it
down.”

“You mean you can kill it?  You can make a cure?  But what
about the mutated version?”  I asked, excitement causing me to bring the horse
to a stop.  Joe stopped his and turned it to face me.

“Kill it, yes.  Cure?  No.  There is no cure.  When the Terminator
virus targets the original virus and rewrites its DNA, the host cells die.  And
the mutation is so insignificant that if we have the original base code to
target, the Terminator will also target the mutations.  That’s why it’s always
so important to find the source of an infection, or a patient zero.”  He said.

“If there’s a way to kill the virus…”

“When the host cells die, the organism dies.”  He said. 
“That’s why it’s called a Terminator virus.  It kills everything without
discretion when it’s activated.”

“So you’re telling me there’s a way to kill the infected
with another virus?  What about people who aren’t infected?”

“Yes, I think we could kill it.  In theory, the Terminator
virus would lie dormant in any person that wasn’t infected.  It would only be
triggered if it encountered DNA specific to the original virus.  It shouldn’t
do anything to you or I.  The beauty of it would be if, say, ten years from now
you suddenly turned.  The Terminator virus would still be present in your body
and would attack.  You’d die, or the infection in you would die.”  He said.

“Then why the hell didn’t you guys do this?”  I asked.

“We ran out of time.  We were just starting to discuss it
when the vaccine samples arrived, then things kind of went to hell pretty soon
after that.  I don’t know if there’s anyone left other than me that even
understands this shit.”

We continued our ride across the grassy plain.  My horse,
I’d decided to name her Horse, was strong and apparently accustomed to the
weather and terrain.  After a few miles at a trot we slowed the animals.  They
weren’t showing signs of tiring, but it was approaching mid-afternoon and it
was hot.  We didn’t want to wear them down too much, never knowing when we
might need them to be able to call on some energy reserves.

Two hours from the dry river where I’d shot the vultures we
dropped into a small valley with a narrow stream running through it.  Large
trees grew at the water’s edge and when we rode into their shade it was a
physical relief to be out of the sun.  I planned to let the horses take some
water for a few moments then keep pressing on, but Joe jumped down and stepped
in front of Horse to stop her from dipping her head for a drink.

“They need to cool down in the shade for a few minutes
first,” he said.  “If they’re too hot, which they will be in this weather, the
water can make them sick and then they’re no good to us.”

I nodded and shrugged out of my pack, tossing it to the
ground.  I wasn’t eager to try dismounting with the extra weight on my back
without benefit of a saddle and stirrup.

Clumsily, I climbed down, nearly falling as my right leg
came over Horse’s back.  Feet on the ground I winced as the pain in my ass and
lower back reminded me it had been over twenty years since I’d been on a horse
and that I wasn’t a kid anymore.  Joe watched me hobbling around bow legged and
tried to hide a smile as he bent and filled his canteens.

I walked around, enjoying the shade and drinking deeply
before replenishing my supply.  Removing the shemagh, I dipped it in the water
and rewrapped my head.  As I stood up, Joe coaxed the horses forward and they
all lowered their heads and drank noisily.  While I was waiting, I moved out
into the sun and looked at the tracks the group we were trailing had left.

Nothing new or different to see.  They had walked straight
into the shallow water, not pausing.  Clear paw prints told me Dog was still
behind them.

“How much farther?”  I called to Joe who was checking each
of the horse’s feet.

“Maybe twenty five miles,” he said after thinking about it
for a minute.  “Two hours if we kept them at a fast canter, but I don’t think
that’s a good idea in this heat.  It’s got to be well over a hundred degrees. 
Won’t do us any good to push them until they drop.”

I didn’t like the answer, but I agreed with him.  It was hot
as hell, and that’s saying a lot for me.  I’ve been in most of the hottest and
crappiest places in the world, and I lived in Arizona for the past several
years.  I’m used to dealing with not just a few days, but several consecutive
months of triple digit temperatures.  110 Fahrenheit is nothing unusual for
Phoenix, and 115 to 120 happens more often than the Chamber of Commerce and
Tourism Bureau would admit.

We rested the animals for ten more minutes, drinking as much
water as we could.  It wasn’t just the horses suffering from dehydration that
we had to worry about.  Finally we were almost ready to go and I took a few
minutes to prepare myself.  A six foot length of paracord tied to my pack at
one end and belt at the other, I got in position and leapt onto Horse’s back.

I made it on the first try this time.  It wasn’t pretty, and
I had a bit of a scare when I thought I was going to roll right on over and
land in the water, but I made it.  Getting my balance, I used the cord to pull
the pack up and got it settled on my back.  Joe had watched my improvisation
and once I was settled he magically transported himself from the ground to his
mount’s back.  Fucking showoff.

We kept the horses at a walk, probably around five miles per
hour.  I wanted speed, but at the same time I had decided I’d rather reach our
destination after the sun went down.  My NVGs were somewhere back in the
crashed Osprey, but I had the night vision scope on my rifle.  The night had
been my friend for many years, and I was going to count on it again to help me.

An hour from where we stopped to rest we came across a faint
trail in the yellowing grass that struck out at a right angle to the tracks of
the group.  Turning Horse, I walked her around the area, then a few yards in
the direction of the new trail.  There was another track paralleling the one
that had caught my attention.

Looking up, I could follow both of them with my eyes for
close to a hundred yards before they disappeared over the top of a low rise. 
Whistling to get Joe’s attention, I urged Horse forward and we started
following the new tracks.  Joe fell in beside me and together we crested the
rise, stopping to look at a body.

This was a woman, lying face down, with no obvious signs of
injury.  Infected?  Only one way to find out.  I dropped my pack and swung down
with less drama than the last time I’d dismounted.  Rifle on burst mode and
aimed at the woman, just in case, I cautiously approached and kicked her leg.

No matter how well a conscious person is pretending, they
can’t seem to mimic the boneless feel of a corpse.  It’s one of those things
that I can’t describe; you just have to have been around dead bodies.  There’s
a quality to them that’s more than simply limp or flaccid.  Anyway, I could
tell from the feel and movement of the female’s lower half that she was truly
dead.

Hooking a foot under her shoulder I lifted.  The body came
up, then flopped over onto its back, dead, red eyes staring at the cloudless
sky.  Infected.  The front of her shirt was soaked with blood, ants and beetles
already feasting.  But the best part was her throat had been torn out.  Dog!

Now the story of the tracks diverging from the group was
starting to make sense.  Someone had run.  And they had been pursued, but not
by the whole party.  Looking around at the signs beaten into the grass I
confirmed my suspicion that two infected had followed.  But obviously, so had
Dog, and he had killed one of them, protecting whoever had run.  It had to be
Rachel.  Dog didn’t know Katie, and anyway, she wasn’t in any condition to run
with a bullet in her chest.

Dashing back to Horse, I grabbed the end of the paracord and
leapt onto her back like I’d been mounting horses without a saddle my entire
life.  Pack raised and in place I pushed her to a run, following the trail. 
Joe matched my pace and we raced south across the prairie, covering a lot of
ground very quickly.

Ten minutes later my heart skipped a beat when I spotted
another body in the distance.  Approaching I could see the flowing brown hair
and long, slender limbs.  Rachel?  I held my breath until I was close enough to
see it was another infected.  Her arms were badly chewed up where she’d fought
with Dog, but he hadn’t killed her.  The skull was deformed where it had been
caved in with a small, smooth rock.  The rock was lying in the grass next to
the corpse, blood and hair stuck to one side of it.

Horse danced sideways as I held her back, searching the
ground with my eyes.  There was a lot of trampled grass from the fight, but it
only took me a few moments to spot the twin tracks that headed to the east. 
Rachel and Dog were going after the group! 

I urged the horse to a run, leaning forward over her neck as
we streaked along.  I could hear the pounding of Joe’s mount’s hooves slightly
behind me.  Trusting Horse, I focused my attention on the ground, frequently
looking up to the horizon before returning my gaze to the trail we were
following.  After a few minutes I could no longer hear the other horses and
shot a glance over my shoulder. 

They were still behind us, running hard, but Horse had the
longer legs and was steadily pulling away.  I didn’t bother to slow and let
them catch up.  Nearly fifteen minutes later I topped a rise and spotted two forms
lying in the grass a couple of hundred yards ahead.  Horse covered the distance
quickly, pulling up when I shifted my weight back and squeezed with my lower
legs.

Rachel lay on her side, either unconscious or dead.  Dog
stood at our approach, but he was wobbly on his feet, nearly falling before he
caught his balance.  Putting himself between Rachel and us he lowered his head
and I could see his teeth as he growled.  I threw myself off of Horse’s back
before she was completely stopped, stumbling but managing to keep my feet under
me.

“Dog, it’s me!”  I shouted as I ran forward.

Dog raised his head and tried to run to meet me, but all he
could manage was a weak legged walk.  Rushing up, I skidded to the grass on my
knees next to Rachel, wrapping one arm around Dog’s neck.  He was hot to the
touch and shaking and I knew he didn’t have long if I didn’t get some water in
him.  Taking a moment to check Rachel’s pulse, I was alarmed to find it weak
and erratic.

Ripping the shemagh off I placed it over Rachel’s head,
shielding her from the sun.  By now Joe had arrived, leaping to the ground and
running towards us.  Dog started to growl but I calmed him and told him Joe was
a friend.

We worked on the two of them feverishly.  Both were severely
dehydrated.  We started with small sips of water for Dog and carefully poured
tiny splashes into Rachel’s mouth, cautious to not choke her.  I also rubbed
water on her face and neck, trying to slowly bring her body temperature down. 
She was as hot as Dog, feeling like she was running a blistering fever, but I
knew it was from exposure to the sun.

An hour later Dog was much improved, drinking at will.  His
eyes had cleared and he finally lay down and closed them with a sigh that had
the most contented sound to it I’ve ever heard.  He was out of danger, as long
as we didn’t run out of water.  Rachel was still unconscious, but the fever
seemed to be under control as her skin was no longer hot to the touch.  I had
used more of our precious supply to soak the shemagh again, hoping to keep her
cool.

“I’ve got to go get us more water,” Joe said. 

I nodded, looking up as he gave the last of our water to the
three horses.  While he did that I worked the water bladder out of my pack and
tossed it to him, pausing when my eyes fell on the two waterproof battle packs
of ammo for the M4 stuffed in the bottom.  Each bag had a built in handle and
held two hundred rounds.  They would also probably hold half a gallon of water
each.

Pulling them out I opened them, careful not to damage the
heavy plastic, and dumped the ammunition into my pack.  I handed these to Joe
and he swung onto his horse and raced off to the northwest.  I looked down when
Rachel made a sound, like a cross between a whimper and a moan.  Her eyes were open
and she was looking up at me with a weak smile.

“I knew you would find me,” she said in a harsh, dry croak
before closing her eyes and falling asleep.

I brushed some hair off her face and re-positioned myself to
block as much of the scorching afternoon sun as possible and give her some
shade.