Pale Horse (A Project Eden Thriller) (29 page)

He knew it was a mistake to think it was Kusum, but he couldn’t help it. It had to be. It just
had
to be.

He placed his hand against his forehead to shade his eyes from the sun. The road went straight for as far as he could see. In the distance, something moved. Though it was no more than a small blob at the moment, there was no question it was a vehicle.

He took a few steps toward it, as if doing so would make it arrive sooner.

“It’s got to be her,” he whispered. “It’s got to be her.”

Another step, the blob growing and beginning to take shape.

“It’s got to be her.”

A square now. A white square. Only—

He stopped moving.

The square continued to grow.

He dropped his hand to his side. It felt as if his heart had fallen off a cliff.

Not a car. A large truck.

He could now see the canvas-covered back, and make out enough to know several people were in the cab.

He closed his eyes, willing himself to not lose control.

She’s not coming
, the voice from earlier said, stronger this time.

“She is,” he fought back, not as convincing as before.

He started to turn away.

“Sanjay!” The voice was just barely audible over the sound of the truck’s engine.

He paused, and looked back. Someone was waving from the open truck window.

Sanjay!” Louder now. A girl’s voice. Sounding very much like—“Sanjay!”

There was a squeal as the driver of the truck stomped on the brakes, and Kusum leaned out the passenger window.

For a moment, Sanjay thought his mind was just showing him what he wanted to see.

The door flew open even before the truck came to a full stop. The girl jumped down and ran toward him.

“Kusum?” he whispered.

“Sanjay! You’re here!”

Her arms flew open as she neared, and she wrapped them around him, squeezing him tightly. Though his shoulder screamed out in pain, he made no attempt to stop her. It
was
Kusum. And she was hugging him.

“You waited for us,” she said, finally pulling back from him.

Of course, I waited
.
What else would I have done?

Her smile began to wane as she touched his face where the skin had been ripped away in the accident. “What happened?”

“I’m okay.”

She took a good look at him, taking in his scratches and noticing his immobile arm. “You’re hurt.”

“I’ll be fine.” He paused. “I could use some water, though.”

“Of course! Of course!”

She put an arm around him as if he needed propping up. When he took a step, he realized he did.

“Someone bring some water!” she yelled toward the truck.

“I thought you were…going to be in a car,” he said.

“That didn’t quite work out. Besides, it wouldn’t have been big enough.”

Big enough?

Before he could ask what she meant, Jabala ran up with a bottle of water.

“Here,” the girl said, holding it out to him.

“Take the top off first!” Kusum scolded her.

“Oh, right. Sorry.”

Jabala removed the top, and handed the bottle back to Sanjay.

As the water passed over his lips, he wasn’t sure if he had ever tasted anything so good.

“Slowly,” Kusum said.

He continued to drink, slower than at first, then poured what was left over his head. The cloud that had infiltrated his mind began to lift, and while he was a long way from being whole, he could feel some of his strength returning.

“Thank you,” he said to Jabala.

“It is no problem,” she replied, taking the empty bottle from him. “Would you like more?”

“Yes, please.” He managed a smile. “And maybe something to eat?”

“I will be right back.”

As soon as she was gone, Kusum said, “Tell me what happened to you.”

He told her about the accident.

“It’s lucky you are even alive,” she said.

“But I am.”

Kusum eyed the bag hanging over his shoulder. “Is that it?”

He waited, but she didn’t say anything more. It took him a moment before he realized she was talking about the vaccine.

“Yes. I got it.”

She looked relieved, though not quite as relieved as he expected. “I hope you have enough.”

“Enough?”

“Come.”

She guided him over to the truck. As they passed the cab, he heard a child cry out.

“Wait,” Kusum said. She stepped up to the open door and leaned inside. When she pulled back out again, she was holding a baby. “This is Nipa. Nipa, this is Sanjay, the one I’ve been talking about.”

Nipa looked at him for a moment, then hid her face against Kusum’s chest.

“Where is she—” he began.

“Later,” she said. “I have much to tell you. First, come.”

She led him around to the open back of the truck. Sitting inside were Kusum’s mother and her two cousins, but there were also nearly two dozen people Sanjay had never seen before, most of them kids.

He looked at Kusum, confused.

“We couldn’t just leave them on their own,” she said.

“Of course you couldn’t,” he told her. It had never been just Kusum’s beauty that drew him to her. It had also been her compassion.

She smiled and squeezed his hand. “Everyone, this is Sanjay.”

There was a chorus of greetings. He nodded and said hello several times, but the more he did, the more a question grew in his mind.

Did he have enough vaccine for everyone?

33

SHANGHAI, CHINA

6:07 PM CHINA STANDARD TIME

L
I JIAO HAD
a simple garden of potted plants on the small balcony of her second-floor apartment. Despite its lack of size, she took pride in what she’d been able to create. In spring she often had the most beautiful flowers on the whole block.

The news about what was happening in the rest of the world was frightening. She had watched for hours as reports came in from America and Europe and even elsewhere in Asia about the boxes and their deadly cargo. The endless reports were what finally drove her back outside, knowing she’d be able to forget everything else as she tended her plants.

So when she saw Madam Zhang step out of the apartment building across the street, she leaned over her balcony, yelled out a greeting, and waved as if it were just any other day. Madam Zhang, though, made no indication that she’d heard Jiao at all.

As Jiao started to call out again, the words died in her throat. Madam Zhang, who Jiao knew was only in her thirties, was moving like an ancient grandmother. She pressed a hand against the side of the building as if she would otherwise fall. Then Madam Zhang stopped and leaned wearily against the wall.

Jiao quickly set down her pruning scissors, and rushed through her apartment out into the hallway. It took her less than a minute to reach the other side of the street.

Madam Zhang hadn’t moved.

“Where are you headed?” Jiao said. “Perhaps I can go with you.”

Madam Zhang took a labored breath. Jiao noticed sweat on the woman’s brow. “I need…to get some medicine for my husband.” She halfheartedly raised a hand holding a piece of paper with several items on it.

“I’m heading that way. Perhaps I can pick these up for you.”

“I wouldn’t want to…” She paused for several seconds. “To trouble you.”

“It is no trouble at all. Here, I will walk you back to your apartment, then I’ll pick up everything.”

Jiao placed her hands on the other woman’s arm and eased her away from the wall.

Without another word, they walked into the building, and slowly up the stairs to the third floor where Madam Zhang lived with her husband.

When they reached the door, Jiao carefully took the key from Madam Zhang and let them in. She led her friend over to a cushioned chair and helped her sit down.

“Where is Mr. Zhang?” Jiao asked. The place was quiet.

“Lying down.”

It was clear he’d given whatever he had to his wife.

“Here. Give me your list,” Jiao said. “I won’t be long.”

The woman handed the list over. “You’ll need some money.”

“You can pay me later.”

“That is unnecessary,” Madam Zhang said, but the look on her face was relieved. Jiao got the impression that the energy it’d take to look for her money was not something her friend had.

“You just rest,” Jiao said.

She stopped back at her apartment to pick up one of her shopping bags, and headed out. As she walked, she decided she would cook something for Madam Zhang when she got back. The woman had always been kind to her in the past. It was the least she could do.

With a smile, she continued down the street, unaware that later that evening, she would be cooking her last meal.

BERLIN, GERMANY

12:23 PM CENTRAL EUROPE TIME

H
AROLD WOLF DROVE
past the Brandenburg Gate, an uneasy knot in his stomach. He had never seen Berlin so quiet. The only places with any action were the areas where the shipping containers had been found.

Thank God he hadn’t drawn that duty. Instead he was ordered to enforce the twenty-four hour curfew, which had so far been extremely easy.

That was why he was nervous. Easy was always a warning signal to him. He knew it wouldn’t last. And he was right.

The call came over his radio four minutes later. A problem at one of the hotels not far from the American Embassy.

Making a U-turn on the usually busy Ebertstrasse, he headed for the Dorint Hotel near the Gendarmenmarkt. The trouble was immediately apparent as he rounded the corner onto the block where the hotel was. There were at least half a dozen people standing outside the entrance, banging on the glass doors, and shouting angrily at hotel security staring back at them from inside.

Wolf pulled to the curb fifty feet away. Knowing it was more than he wanted to handle on his own, he radioed in for backup. Unfortunately, one of the people outside noticed him and headed over.

“You’ve got to tell them to let us in!” the man yelled.

“Please stand back, sir,” Wolf said, climbing off his bike.

The man slowed his pace but didn’t stop. “They won’t open the door. We have rooms here. We’re guests!”

“Please, sir. Just stand back.”

He touched the gun at this waist, emphasizing the point. The man seemed to finally get the message, though his anger didn’t subside.

“You need to talk to them! Where are we supposed to go? Those are our rooms!”

Wolf closed his eyes for a second as a wave of pain shot through his head. Great. Just what he needed. A migraine.

“Let me see what I can do,” he said.

“We can’t stand out here like this,” the man said. “Who knows what’s in the air?”

“Sir, just a minute. Please.”

Wolf took a step toward the hotel, then stopped suddenly, a wave of dizziness rushing over him.

“Hey. Are you going to help us or what?” the man asked.

“Are you all right?” A woman’s voice.

Wolf realized a few of the others had come over.

“I’m fine,” he said. “It’s just a long day.”

Another step, and this time it was his stomach.

He was only able to turn partially away before his breakfast made a quick exit out his mouth.

“Jesus!” the first man said, jumping back. “You’re sick! Dammit, you got some on me!” He started wiping viciously at his suit jacket. “Dammit!”

Wolf fell to his knees and retched again. When he finished, he looked up and saw the others staring at him as if he were death itself.

“Please, someone call for help,” he managed before his stomach churned again.

MUMBAI, INDIA

4:12 PM INDIAN STANDARD TIME

T
ARU LEANED AGAINST
the side of a car, exhausted. He’d been up walking the streets since six a.m. and it was now past four in the afternoon. That in itself would have been enough to tire most people, but he had to also carry the heavy container of anti-malaria spray on his back.

Up and down his assigned roads he’d gone, spraying the liquid along the edge of the streets. Whenever he started to run out, one of the suppliers would invariably show up and fill his tank again.

But it wasn’t the walking or the burden that had caused him to stop. Though he didn’t know it then, nor would it dawn on him later when he started to hallucinate, the cause was directly attributable to the fact he had stopped wearing his face mask not long after the morning had grown hot.

His exposure to the virus, in extreme amounts, was inevitable, but he also had a genetic makeup that accelerated the KV-27a virus’s effects, making him one of the first to contract the disease.

He coughed, and was surprised that it hurt deep down in his chest.

He must be catching something, he thought. Ironic, given the mission of mercy he was on.

He coughed again then spit a wad of phlegm into the gutter.

“Just a few more hours,” he told himself.

A full day would include an extra bonus, and that was money he sorely needed.

“Just a few more.”

He pushed off the car and started walking again.

Forty minutes later, he was lying half in the road, the contents of the container on his back spilling across the ground.

34

SIERRA NEVADA MOUNTAINS, CALIFORNIA

6:06 AM PACIFIC STANDARD TIME

M
ARTINA HEARD SOMEONE
moving around, but she didn’t want to open her eyes. Sleep was what she wanted, a place where she could pretend she was somewhere else. At school, perhaps, getting ready for the softball season. Or back home, helping her mother finish putting up the Christmas decorations. Or somewhere on the coast with Ben, finally spending enough time with him to solidify their relationship.

“Has anyone seen Laurie?” Mrs. Weber said.

Reluctantly, Martina opened her eyes and propped herself up on an elbow. Riley looked like she had just woken up, too, but both Pamela and Donny seemed to be still asleep. Laurie’s sleeping bag was empty.