The Last Five Days: The Complete Novel: A Post-Apocalyptic Thriller (15 page)

* * *

"
W
hat's wrong with him
?"

"Hard to say. He seems OK now. I'm going to let him rest awhile before asking any more questions," Salk said as he walked by Hendricks.

Hendricks grabbed Salk's arm. "There is no chance he's infected, right?"

Salk looked back at Jones, who was sitting beside Richie's bed. "James said Richie suffers from insomnia. It's probably exhaustion."

"To be safe, let's quarantine him."

"And what about James? Are we locking him in there with Richie?"

Hendricks smirked. "Couldn't hurt."

"And you?"

"What?"

"You were with him at lunch. If he is infected, you've been exposed. Are we going to lock you up too? Me? Swann?"

"Get James out of there. Make sure no one else interacts with him until he wakes up. And then only through two-way radio."

Hendricks walked away. Salk tapped on a window of the mobile care unit. He had to tap several times to get Jones’ attention. He motioned for Jones.

"He wanted me to lock you in there with him," Salk said, stepping away from the unit.

"It's probably a hell of a lot safer in there with Richie," Jones said, walking behind Salk.

"He suffers from insomnia. Any other health problems you're aware of?"

"Hell, Bob, I don't know the kid. I read that from an article in
Science News
."

Salk stopped just out of earshot of two soldiers standing near a jeep. "You're the king of virology. What are the odds of him being infected?"

"Slim to none," Swann said, walking up behind Jones. "I don't like to use the word impossible. But if I did, I'd say it's pretty much impossible."

"You made this airborne? What the hell were you thinking?" Jones asked.

"I wasn't. I let the money blind me. Come on; we've got to get to work."

Swann started toward the pop-up lab. Salk and Jones followed behind.

"And before you accuse me of being a greedy bitch, I needed the money for my parents. Being head of Biological Sciences at John Hopkins pays well, but not well enough to provide the best Alzheimer's care. Both of my parents have it. Their care is close to three hundred thousand a year." Swann stopped and looked at Jones. "Do you have that kind of money?"

Jones didn't answer.

"I know joining ARMA was stupid. Making the virus airborne was incredibly stupid. There is no amount of apologies that can save Black Dog. Right now, you're going to have to put your feelings for Bob and me to the side and concentrate on saving the world. There is no other option. If this gets out, it's over."

"Fisher is going to beat himself up for not being here to witness this," Jones said.

"What are you talking about, James?" Salk asked.

"Hendricks preyed on you because you were desperate to help your parents." Jones looked at Salk. "And you, because your ego is fragile. He's not only an asshole. He's a parasite. Fisher is going to hate that I discovered that."

"That's if he's still alive," Salk said.

Swann flipped a light switch. "There's no time for small talk."

Fluorescent light beamed off the white walls, causing Jones to squint. A table ran along the entire length of the left side wall. Three electron microscopes were on the table, equal distances apart. A large flat screen television was affixed to the wall behind the microscopes. A white board covered in red and green writing was on the wall directly in front of Swann. To the right was a cork board. Pinned to the board were pictures of Ron and Johnny Walters.

"So, these were the guinea pigs?" Jones said, eying the photos.

Swann corrected Jones. "They were the test subjects."

"At some point, you're going to have to drop the shield and accept that these..." Jones pointed to the photos. "...men had families. They didn't sign on to be sacrificial lambs in your experiment."

Swann ignored Jones and opened a storage locker doubling as a closet. She put on a hazmat suit. She handed one to Salk. Jones surveyed the room, stopping at a glass door. He pressed his hands to the door to shield the glass and tried to peer through it.

"What's beyond the decontamination chamber?" Jones asked.

"An autopsy room," Salk said, slipping the suit over his feet.

"We haven't used it," Swann said.

"Too scared to get close to the monster, huh, Dr. Frankenstein?"

"Hendricks wouldn't let us bring the infected here," Salk said.

"Color me surprised," Jones said.

Salk handed a hazmat suit to Jones. "How did you make Judas airborne, Carolyn?"

Swann picked up a remote and turned on the television. A graph appeared on the screen.

"I introduced RNA from a strain of 2009 H1N1 into a cell containing early stage Judas. I never thought mutation was possible, and in my experiments, it wasn't. In fact, introducing H1N1 into the equation rendered Judas harmless. Given the data, I had no qualms about Hendricks using Judas 2.0. Judas in its original state is unpredictable and highly volatile. I told Hendricks that 2.0 was a success in the lab. He worried that we wouldn't know if it truly worked until we introduced it to humans. I begged him not to use 2.0, even though I thought it was harmless. Hendricks was going to infect the test subjects no matter what, so I basically switched his loaded gun with a prop gun. Or so I thought."

"What went wrong?" Jones asked.

"I'm guessing antigenic drift. When introduced into the human body and confronted by antibodies, the virus rapidly mutated to survive. I never thought that was possible because H1N1 RNA always disarmed Judas. The antibodies presented a common enemy. They found a way to work together."

"That's not possible if H1N1 nullified Judas. When introduced into the human body, it would be viewed as garbage and cleaned up by antibodies," Salk said.

"It's possible if Judas used H1N1 as a type of camouflage. Maybe Judas played dead. Viruses don't look to infect; the main goal is survival. Pretty much by any means necessary. It looks like you've created the ultimate survivalist."

"That explains the keratin," Salk said.

"What about keratin?" Swann asked.

"Yesterday, a man showed up. He said he spoke to Carrie before she died. She told him her body craved keratin. Judas heightens the senses tremendously. It's how she knew she needed keratin. But she didn't need it, Judas did. It treats the human body the same way it treated the H1N1. When flesh starts to die, it makes the body crave keratin."

"Congratulations, you two. You've created a real-life zombie apocalypse," Jones said.

* * *

M
elanie sat
cross-legged beside Fisher's body. She rocked back and forth until her knees ached. Winston sat on a huge rock plastered with multi-colored handprints and the painted words "Welcome To Black Dog Park." He watched the sun as it began its slow descent.

"We should get the gas can and head home before dark."

Melanie nodded. "He kinda reminded me of my dad." She looked at Fisher. "He just wanted to help. He didn't deserve this."

Winston jumped off the rock. "None of us deserve this. Well...maybe your boyfriend who dressed like a clown and wanted to kill you." Winston smiled and extended his hand to Melanie.

"I think everyone but you wants to kill me now." Melanie brushed dirt from her jeans and gave Fisher one last look. "Do you believe in Heaven, Winston?"

Winston skirted around the question. "I believe he's in a better place."

"What do you think happens to us when we die? Worm food? Pearly gates? Or do you think it just ends?"

Winston took Melanie's hand and started toward Art's Hardware. "Honestly, I don't know, but neither of us are finding out today."

"Why do you think we haven't gotten sick?"

Winston chuckled. "Are we playing 21 questions now?"

"Sorry, I tend to talk a lot when I'm sad. It helps, ya know?"

"Yeah. I wish I had an answer. It looks like we are the only two survivors in Black Dog. I have no idea why we were spared."

"Maybe we're superheroes." Melanie laughed. "Who's your favorite superhero?"

"Aquaman."

Melanie laughed again. "Who?"

"Aquaman. He swims. Talks to fish."

"I'm kidding. I know Aquaman. I expected you to say Superman or Batman."

"Do I seem predictable to you?"

"Not at all."

There was a clang followed by a trashcan rolling into the street. Winston pulled his Colt and Melanie aimed the shotgun she had taken from Fisher. The trashcan stopped at the edge of the road where asphalt met grass. There was another clang followed by another trashcan. A teenage boy stepped out from behind a pickup truck.

"Hey, Winston, is that you?"

Winston put his hand on Melanie's waist and shifted her behind him. "What are you doing out here, Tommy? It's not safe."

Tommy Norris turned sixteen last month. His family threw a party at Black Dog Park and invited the whole town. That wasn't uncommon in Black Dog. Everyone considered each other extended family. Tommy edged closer to Winston. He held a hammer in his right hand. Blood dripped from the head onto the road. Winston pointed his gun at Tommy.

"Why don't you stay right there, Tommy?"

"But I can't, Winston. I'm hungry. I need to eat."

"Oh god." Melanie buried her head into Winston's back. She knew what was going to happen, but she couldn't bring herself to watch. Killing a kid was too much to take.

"You're sick, Tommy. I'm not going to ask you again. Don't come any closer."

Tommy stopped as if to obey Winston. "OK, Winston, but only if you promise to let me have a taste of what's hiding behind you."

"You know that's not going to happen," Winston said.

Tommy dropped to his knees. "It's bad. Really bad. The pain is eating me from the inside. The headaches. The nausea. But, Winston, what hurts most is the never-ending craving for flesh. I don't want to eat it, but it does."

"What's it, Tommy?" Winston asked.

"This thing inside my brain. It controls me. I just want it to stop."

Tommy swung the hammer and caught himself just above the ear. The force knocked him to the ground. Winston spotted two holes about the same size as the face of the hammer in Tommy's head.
It's his blood
, Winston thought.

"It won't let me die." Tommy sat up and looked at the hammer. "I just want it to stop, Winston."

Melanie stepped out from behind Winston and started toward Tommy. Winston grabbed her hand, but she broke free. Tommy sprang to his feet.

"It's so hungry."

Melanie pointed the shotgun. Without steadying her aim, she fired. The blast caused Melanie to turn away. Her ears rang like a chorus of cymbals. The kick knocked her to the ground. She sprang to her feet and aimed the gun again. Tommy lay on the ground, writhing. Most of his left side just above the hip was gone.

"S…o…hun…gry." Gasping and coughing sliced the words to the point of incoherence.

This time, Melanie steadied the gun and braced for the kick. "I'm saving you," she said before pulling the trigger. Melanie dropped the gun and faced Winston. "I couldn't watch him hurt himself anymore."

Winston put his arm around Melanie and brought her close.

"How could a virus control someone like that?" Melanie asked.

Again, Winston didn't have an answer.

"How could it make him hit himself with a hammer?"

Winston knew the answer. The virus didn't make Tommy hit himself. Tommy was trying to escape it, and there was no escape. Not even death. Winston sighed. "I don't know. But let's get the can and go home."

* * *

R
ichie opened
his eyes to see his brother standing at the foot of the bed. He blinked fast, knowing it had to be a figment of his imagination or a dream.

"Jason?"

Jason didn't look like a ghost. He resembled a healthy twelve-year-old boy. Richie hadn't seen his brother since the dreams stopped. For a moment, guilt took over, when he realized he had all but forgotten about his brother.

"Hey, brother, long time no see."

"You can't be here. You're not real," Richie said.