Mad World (Book 3): Desperation (18 page)

Twenty seven

“Luke, Luke: wake up.” DeAndre was shaking my shoulder in the still-dark room. Groggily I open my eyes, looked over and saw Dad’s and Jonathan’s cots were empty. Zach snoozed in his, curled up like a cat.

“Wha…?” I rubbed my eyes to try and wake up.

“Luke, come ON!” DeAndre started back out of the room, saying over his shoulder, “it’s Risa.”

That woke me up instantly.

“Shit.” I grabbed my pants and stumbled a few steps as I struggled to pull them on.

“Wha’s goin’ on?” Zach yawned from his blanket.

“It’s Risa. Come on.” Pulling my shoes on, I hurried out of the room, leaving Zach to wake up. I rushed down the hall after DeAndre. “D, what’s going on? Is she all right?” But he was already around the corner, moving at a jog. I ran the last dozen feet and rounded the corner and caught the door DeAndre had gone through just before it shut.

Dad, Jonathan and Dr. Carroway were gathered around Risa’s bed, and the doctor was speaking to them all. Risa was propped up on some pillows and looked weak and pale but resolute.

“Okay, I came up with seven different serums, and I’ve tested them on different animal subjects and narrowed it down to one prime result,” he held up a vial and plunged a syringe into it. As the clear serum flowed into the glass syringe, the light hit it and reflected onto the nearby wall in a rainbow. Dr. Carroway looked down at Risa. “This serum works by both changing the structure of the plague bacteria and hastening the course of the pathogen’s life cycle, so that the microorganism is forced to turn its victims before it can adapt to the changes.”

He looked down at the syringe filled serum, then back up at us. “If this doesn’t work, she will most certainly either turn normally or die. The most likely result of a failure is death.” He looked directly at Risa again. “Are you certain you want this?”

“Yes, Doc,” she said bravely. “Yes. Inject me.”

Jonathan bent over his wife and rubbed her forearm with an alcohol swab. A rubber tourniquet encircled her upper arm, which she held out, her hand in a fist.

Jonathan looked up into her eyes and smiled. “This will sting a tiny bit, Babe.” There were tears in his eyes.

Risa smiled and said, “I have a good feeling about this.” Here lips were so pale they looked white, and her cheeks had dark hollows in them. It was clear that the plague had entered its final stages and Risa was on the brink of turning into a zombie. The crazy trip, the jostling, the battle we fought, all of it must have hastened the plague’s progress.

Dr. Carroway bent down and inserted the needle. We all leaned in closer to watch, and I held my breath. The serum slowly entered Risa’s bloodstream, and when the syringe was empty, the doctor removed it, pressed a cotton ball down on the spot, then put the syringe aside, and placed a bandage over the cotton on her arm.

“There. Now we wait.” He sat back and crossed his arms, watching Risa.

We all watched her. After a while I sat next to her on the bed, putting my arm around her and lay my head on her shoulder.

“Risa?” I said.

“Yeah?”

“I love you.”

She turned to me and gave me a great bear hug. Then I felt Jonathan on her other side, and then pretty much the whole team was in a great bear hug, embracing her, giving her warmth, loving her. She was such an integral part of our family, and a big part of the soul of our team. I turned my head and pressed my other cheek to her shoulder, facing away from her so she wouldn’t see the tears running down my face.

After ten minutes, I thought I felt her get warmer, but I wasn’t sure. Moving my face back the other way, to her front, I put my cheek against hers and squeezed her tighter. After a minute, I was sure: she did seem warmer. She was heating up. Oh, god, she was heating up. I lifted my head from hers and looked at her. Her face was flushed, her eyes had rolled up into her eyelids and she felt hotter than ever.

“Doctor?”

“Um … Risa?”

“What’s happening?”

Dr. Carroway rushed forward and began taking her vital signs. Risa felt ridiculously hot; no person should be this hot. I remembered the plague victims who had heated up right before turning, and my throat caught. Risa had started trembling, like she was having some kind of seizure.

“Lay her back down. LAY HER BACK DOWN!” Dr. Carroway screamed his words in a barely controlled panic, and began to yell orders to his assistants, who’d been standing silently by at the edges of the room.

My mind blocked out all outside distractions as I watched Risa. I held her hand tightly and watched her face. Her eyes were now closed, she seemed half-unconscious, and her entire body was convulsing. Tears sprang from my eyes, and I brought my hand up to them and squeezed, grimacing. Opening them back up again when I felt her trembling get worse, I looked down to see her eyes spring open with a look of panic. This was too much for me. I had seen Risa scared, startled, frightened, even anxious. But I’d never seen her panicked. I lowered myself onto the bed and gathered her in my arms. Pressing my face right next to hers I looked into her eyes and began to speak.

“Risa. Look at me, Sis.”

Her body trembled harder, and I held her so she wouldn’t fall off the bed. I felt the hands of my family touching us, giving strength.

“Risa, look at me. Risa.” She finally focused on my face, fixing my eyes with that look of panic. She latched onto my eyes as if there were nothing else in the universe.

My eyes. They were red-tinged. My skin was pale, also tinged, but with grey. I looked like I had been halted at the halfway point of turning into a zombie. I remembered growing up, whenever people saw me for the first time, they stared. They always looked slightly alarmed as they studied me. Watched me. Until they saw me acting normally and realized I wasn’t going to attack them. But for those first few minutes, sometimes longer, they kept their eyes on me. I looked different. I looked like I was the enemy.

I remember my mother telling me stories about how the world had been before the plague had spread, before the zombies came. She told me about the 9/11 attacks on America, and how afterward the whole country became more prejudiced. One time, when she was a teenager, she’d gone into a store to buy a sandwich, and the clerk had worn a hat that identified him as Muslim. She told me how several people had treated him badly, calling him “terrorist” and “killer.” She had stood up and told them her father was a soldier and that he had fought to keep America free so the clerk could practice any religion he wanted.

I’d been treated differently because of my coloring. And there was no one else like me in the whole world. I was alone in being treated like a monster. But as I looked into Risa’s face, hoping against hope, praying she would be cured, I knew it had all been worth it. All the pain, all the tears, all the years of being an outcast. It had all been worth it if being different could make this plague go away.

“Be strong. I am here,” I said, looking deep into her eyes, my face inches from hers. “We are all here. We are not going anywhere. You are not alone.”

Her eyes focused on mine, her eyebrows pursed, she was listening.

“I know, I know with every fiber of my being, that you can beat this, Risa.” Her body was hotter than hot; it felt like I was holding a smoldering coal.

“Risa, my blood is in you now.” I held her and squeezed her hand in mine, bringing it up to my mouth and kissing it. “I give you my strength. I give you my resilience. I give you my energy.” Her body trembled so violently the hospital bed we were in began to rattle on its legs.

I looked deeply into her eyes and continued. “Risa, you are the strongest person I know. You will endure this. You will come out the other end of this dark, dark tunnel you’re going through.” Tears ran freely down my face as I spoke. I didn’t care.

“Risa, I give you my life.” I held her tightly. Her heated body trembled against mine as the serum from my blood tried to heal it from the extraordinary monster that had infected her.

It felt like I held her for hours. I became aware of my lips against her hair, whispering: “Risa. Risa. Come back to me. Come to me. Risa.” We stayed like that for a long, long time.

I remembered all the years growing up with Risa, she was the best big sister anyone could ask for, especially a hybrid half-zombie human who’d been strange all his life. She defended me against curious eyes, she had my back, always. She taught me how to fight, taught me gentleness, taught me fierceness, taught me courage. She’d been my rock in the storm of my childhood. When I confided in her, and she was the first person to know my secret, she let me know it was all right to be gay. She taught me that acceptance was the norm. She taught me to judge people by the character of their heart, and not by anything else.

I held her, and held on to her, all at the same time. Wherever this thing took her, I was going, too. I refused to let her go.

Risa.

My tears soaked everything, my nose ran freely, I didn’t care. My sister was dying.

Gradually, as I held her, I realized her trembling was slowing down, and her temperature was lowering. Oh, dear sweet Jesus, was she dying?

It took more courage than I’ve ever felt to bring my face away from hers to look at her.

As I gazed upon her face, I saw it was fading from red to normal cream. The heat was definitely fading. The seizure was stopping.

She went limp in my arms, and I kept hold of her body as her head lolled back. My hand caught it and I held her there, watching.

Her color faded to a pale, pale cream. Her skin slowly cooled.

Oh god, Risa.

Fresh tears ran down my cheeks as I held her and watched, refusing to look away. My blood had done this, and I would stand sentinel, witnessing what the serum did. I felt a responsibility to her.

Her breathing faltered.

Oh, Risa.

Then I noticed something. Her skin.

Her skin was turning a light grey.

My arms, arms that held her as she died, grey arms that held her.

Held her body.

Her body turned grey to match my own.

Oh Risa.

Risa. No.

I kept holding her and watching.

Her skin was now cool. Her color was now light grey. She looked like my twin.

I watched her still.

Then I felt it. Her body was no longer limp. Her neck held her head up. Grey arms ending in grey hands touched mine.

She opened her eyes.

And looked at me.

Focused on my eyes.

And smiled.

Twenty eight

Dr. Carroway and his colleagues swiftly calibrated the serum for Tim and the others, and injected it into them all. We knew what to look for now, so the doctors and nurses monitored them closely as they were cured of the plague.

Cured. Well, in a manner of speaking, yes. But changed. Risa now had my coloring. And something else, too. She had my strength. She had morphed into a hybrid. Dr. Carroway had thought something like this might happen. Given the strength of the pathogen, it had been doubtful that the victims would be entirely cured, that they could become purely human again.

Risa and I spent an hour just looking at each other in wonder.

She asked a ton of questions. Of Dr. Carroway and of me. Growing up with me, living in close proximity to me, she’d taken some things for granted. So questions poured out of her, and smiling, I happily answered. I was just ecstatic that my sister hadn’t died.

Dr. Carroway explained that, in a way, she had. A new creature had been born out of Risa as the plague tried to overwhelm her body. In trying to turn her, the plague - now altered by the serum made from my blood’s antibodies - had forced her body to change, to adapt into this new form. She was like me.

As we all sat together eating a late breakfast, Dr. Carroway finally joined us for a minute.

“The people you brought to us in the other vehicle? They are all inoculated with the serum, and have all recovered from the plague. They are all resting now.”

“Except for me.”

“Leia!”

“Hey kiddo!”

“How’re you feeling?”

“Hey! High five!”

She sat down next to Risa, who put her arm around her.

“You okay?” Risa asked.

Leia gave her a sideways look. “My head is killing me.”

“Yeah, mine too.” She handed Leia a glass of water. “Here. This’ll help. Drink up.”

Risa felt weak but happy. In fact, she could not stop smiling. I guess cheating death did that to a person. Leia found herself famished and wolfed down two plates of eggs and bacon.

“Doctor?” I asked. I’d been wondering something for days, but had been too distracted to remember to ask him about it.

“What, my dear boy?” Dr. Carroway buttered a slice of toast and looked up at me, smiling.

“I wanted to ask you about this weird zombie we encountered a last week.” I began.

“That thing was the oddest creature I’ve ever encountered,” shivered Risa. “It was after us.”

“It was after Luke, actually,” said Dad. “Doctor, the zombies are changing again. This zombie was actually able to lead hundreds of other zombies. It was a new strain of the plague.”

DeAndre spoke up, “And don’t forget the crowd of zombies that asked us for help, instead of attacking. I’ve never seen anything like it.”

“What??!” Doctor Carroway’s jaw dropped. We all began to speak at once, explaining what we’d encountered.

“…it called itself the zombie king!”

“…made off with Luke and Risa like ants with crumbs of food…”

“…kidnapping zombies…”

“…it told us they were after Luke. It said Luke was going to be the downfall of the zombies and they tried to stop us.”

“…it followed us from Thunder Bay, it was up inside the undercarriage of the SUV.”

“…bastard tried to kill Luke.”

“…called the other zombies, then they attacked…”

“…why on earth…?

“…how did it know about Luke?”

“…craziest thing…”

As we continued describing what we’d seen, the doctor’s face grew more and more pale.

“Oh, my god…” he said.

“What?” Dad asked. “Shhh. Everybody.” Dad turned to look at Dr. Carroway again. “Doctor, what?”

Doctor Carroway remained silent for a few seconds, his hand on his mouth. Then –

“Nelson.” His color paled and his eyes looked haunted. “It has to be. Brian Nelson.”

“Who?” Dad leaned in farther.

“You mean you know this zombie?”

Dr. Carroway began speaking. “Doctor Brian Nelson was one of our top scientists. He was a genius, a prodigy. He came to us from Switzerland, and he had mild psychic powers.”

“Get outta here.”

“Really?”

“I don’t believe in ‘psychic’ powers. Get real.”

“Shush, let him tell the story,” Dad said.

Dr. Carroway began again. “Nelson was our big project. It was kept very hush-hush.” The doctor took a drink of water and then continued. “After years of different experiments and procedures, we were able to heighten his abilities until he was as near to being telepathic as it is possible to be. We were government funded, you see, and they were desperate for something to fight this plague with.”

“Wait a minute,” DeAndre said. “How does a telepathic human fight a zombie plague?”

The doctor continued. “You must understand we were desperate, we were trying anything that might work. Anything.” He took a deep breath. “We were trying to send in a telepathic human, who could read minds, to try and see if he could disable the monsters that way. But a week into the trial phase of the experiment, a week after he went in, we lost contact with him. Nelson just … disappeared.”

“I’ll tell ya what happened, doc. He was infected. Bastard nearly got the better of us,” Jonathan fumed.

“I know, I realize that now. It was what we assumed. We just didn’t think he would …,” The doctor stopped there.

“Would what?” Dad asked. Silence. “Would what, doc?” he pressed.

“Would …” the doctor took a deep, shaky breathe and continued. “Well,” he cleared his throat. “Since Nelson had been altered, enhanced really, apparently when he was infected he must have retained some of his telepathic abilities. Did you say it could speak?” He looked up at us.

“Yes, it was the weirdest thing.” I said. “And it seemed to get better at it after speaking with us for a while.” I looked over at Risa, then took her hand and squeezed it. She was still looking wobbly. I gestured to the eggs and bacon, but she patted her belly to indicate she was full and smiled at me. Then the doctor continued.

“So the zombie retained its power of speech, however rusty at first.” Dr. Carroway said.

We all nodded.

“Well, part of his telepathy was honed to be a sort of power of persuasion.” Carroway said.

We looked at him blankly.

“ ‘Persuasion’?” Dad asked.

“Yes, Nelson could give a command and then reinforce it with a mental suggestion, telepathically. It was very effective. From the sounds of things, it seems that when he was infected and succumbed, the zombie he became retained this power of persuasion. There can be no other explanation as to why it was able to gather an army of fellow zombies. It must have also retained part of Nelson’s mind, his power of reasoning, his wits, if you will. You said it actually made sense when it spoke to you?” Carroway asked.

“Yes, it seemed completely lucid,” I answered.

He nodded, as if the picture were becoming clear to him now. “The ‘zombie king,’ as you call it, probably retained some of Nelson’s memories and used them in a desperate effort to survive. Every living thing has the instinct to survive, to avoid death, and while the zombies are not strictly alive anymore, because this creature retained some of Nelson’s mind, it probably had an incredible instinct and will to survive, much stronger than its fellow zombies. This makes sense. It knew about Luke here,” at this he looked over at me directly and gestured. “And it would have known that your mission to this lab to provide us with your body’s antibodies - if it were to succeed - would mean the downfall of the entire zombie race.”

Carroway paused to take a sip of water, then continued.

“The crowd of zombies you encountered who asked for help instead of attacking, that’s a little harder.” He thought for a moment. “I will postulate that they might have been infected by the zombie that had been Nelson. The plague is constantly mutating, changing, with every new person it encounters who is different from the previous subjects. Perhaps those the zombie king infected retained this new aspect of the plague: for a while at least. They retained part of their minds: they remembered.” He shook his head. “I can think of no worse hell. Being infected with the zombie plague, your body turning into a zombie, but remembering everything it meant to be human. The anguish. My god.”

Dad spoke slowly. “I’m thinking the zombie king didn’t know this would happen. Those zombies wanted our help. They would have helped Luke get here to the lab, if it meant a possible cure for them, no matter how far-fetched.” Dad looked at the doctor, who looked back at him and then spoke.

“I think you are right, Mr. Hill. The zombie that used to be Nelson, the zombie king: it would have killed every last one of them, if it had known.” Carroway thought for a moment. “What happened to this zombie king? You say it followed you all the way to Boston?”

“It’s dead.”

“Um, yeah. Luke chopped it in two. And I sort of tore its head clean off.” DeAndre smiled at the memory.

Laughing, Dad said, “It’s about a mile from here, in at least three pieces, Doc.”

We all went over the final battle we’d fought at Holocaust Park. Doctor Carroway was amazed at how deadly the Sanctuary Team was. But after a half hour of this, dad spoke quietly.

“Doctor, we have to go. This afternoon.”

I sobered up as reality came crashing down on us all. Mom.

“I’m already packed,” said DeAndre.

“Mom needs the serum. She was infected over a week and a half ago,” I said, feeling pale.

“Our Sanctuary doctor induced a coma in her, to prolong the incubation period of the plague, and hopefully she’s still stable,” Risa said.

“We have to try,” Dad said.

“We’ll make faster time with the zombie king no longer after us,” Jonathan said grimly.

I thought of my mother back home in Winnipeg. The last time I’d seen her, she’d looked so pale, lying in bed. I swallowed back tears, and felt Dad take my hand and squeeze it from across the table. Looking up, I saw there were unshed tears in his eyes as well. That did it for me, and my tears fell down my face in dual waterfalls. I bowed my head.

“Luke? Jacob? DeAndre?” We looked up at the doctor. “I may have a solution.”

Hope sparked in my chest. If he was kidding … I heard Jonathan blow his nose hard in his napkin.

“What? Doctor Carroway: what?” Dad asked.

“Well, help in the form of an old friend.” Dr. Carroway smiled and took out his walki-talkie. He spoke into it. “Okay to come in now.”

“What is going on?” DeAndre asked.

The door behind me creaked open and a voice came through it. “You all helped me once before. You saved my life. I think it’s time I returned the favor.”

“I know that voice.” Dad said. He stood up and came around the table, reaching for the door as it opened further. “I don’t believe it.” The door opened the rest of the way and a middle-aged man in a grey suit entered the room. I didn’t recognize him, but he seemed to know me.

“Luke. When I last saw you, you were five years old,” he said.

Dad seemed stunned. “Stanley Turner. My god.” They shook hands, and smiles broke out on their faces. DeAndre came around the table and grasped Turner’s hand as well.

“I don’t believe it,” DeAndre said. “I just don’t believe it.”

Risa and Jonathan held back a ways. But they were smiling. I looked at Risa.

“You remember this guy, Sis?” I asked.

“I do. It’s been a really long time. And the last time I saw him, he worked for the government, and was after you, Luke.”

Stanley Turner turned to the rest of us. “I’m still with the government. I’ve moved from the CDC to the CIA, but we’re no longer looking to grab you, Luke.” He sat down and poured himself a cup of coffee as he spoke. “We’ve been following your work. Your Sanctuary Team is incredible. And we’ve been following Dr. Carroway’s work as well. Helping him along when we could.” He looked back at Dad. “Jacob, we’d like to offer you and your team a flight on a military jet, back to Winnipeg. You could be home, with the serum, in time to save your wife, in just a few hours.”