There's Blood on the Moon Tonight (97 page)

Bill explained: “After I left the museum this afternoon I went over to Bidwell’s office and learned the same thing as everyone else here—that our “good” doctor had flown the coop. Only I wasn’t ready to give up on him that easy. Those photos I’d managed to develop had not only intrigued me, they’d made me madder than hell! Bidwell had a lot to answer for—including what he did to you, Bud, to make you forget an entire week of your life when you were in his care. I found the Chief’s old VW parked in front of the Firehouse. Like John, I guess I was lucky I didn’t run into any of the Rabids. The keys were in the Bug, so I took it and drove over to the West End. Once I found Bidwell’s remains, I knew what I’d read about in the Rabies Report had come to pass. By this time I was getting concerned about unsuspecting Mooners coming home to an island rife with the disease. I was rushing over to the Sheriff’s Office, to hail the authorities on the radio, when I saw the first live human beings on Moon since I watched you sail off on the
Betty Anne
two days ago. Tim and Mr. Pete were dragging that leaky rowboat onto the beach. I herded them into the VW, and while the three of us were driving back to town, Garfield told me how Chief Briarson and his men, naked as the day they were born, chased after him and Mr. Pete. The two of them had to race for their lives to the docks, where the Rabids gave up the chase, once those two jumped into the drink. They swam to Garfield’s rowboat and made for open water, where they had their encounter with the Coast Guard, who I assume must’ve just gotten the call from USAMRIID.” Bill took a breath. “I was all for trying the Sheriff’s office again, but Tim and Mr. Pete threatened to jump out of the car if I did so! And since the Coast Guard was blockading the island, I no longer had to worry about you, or anyone else for that matter, coming back here anytime soon—or so I thought.

He gave his son a look.

“With that huge worry out of the way, Tim, myself, and Mr. Pete decided to hunker down in the museum until help arrived. I knew there was a problem on the island, but I underestimated the extent of the infection. I thought if we armed ourselves and stayed vigilant we’d be okay. Garfield had that peashooter in his shop he wanted to go get, and Mr. Pete wanted to bring over some groceries from his diner. I was helping him when we heard Tim Garfield, across the street, screaming in his store. I ran inside and witnessed him trying to hold off your Headmaster.”

“Weatherbee?” Bud said, again surprised that someone he knew had rabies.

“That’s right. He was on all fours, frothing at the mouth like our Cujo animatron. It was the damndest thing I’ve ever seen. Even after reading about the symptoms, and seeing what was left of Bidwell on his bedroom floor, I still couldn’t believe my own eyes. Nearly cost me my life, too. Tim put four shells into that thing but they had no effect—like shooting bee-bees at a rhino. When Frazier saw me at the door, he charged after me instead. Mr. Pete, God bless him, was so terrified he took off running. I actually tripped over my own feet, backpedaling out the door! I was flat on my back, seconds away from old Frazier mauling me, when John Cutter came out of nowhere. Faster than I could blink, he stuck his machete into that lunatic’s skull. Stopped him dead! Only problem was, some of the infected blood splashed into John’s eyes.”

“Oh no!” Josie gasped. “Isn’t there anything you can do for yourself, Mr. Cutter?”

“Well,” he said, making a slicing gesture across his throat. “Short of cutting off the infected limb above the injury there really isn’t a viable solution to my predicament.” His eyes were lost and desperate.

“I misjudged you, sir,” Bud said, smiling sadly.

Cutter returned the wan smile. He turned to Bill and asked him about his earlier comment, regarding Bud’s memory loss. John listened and stated bluntly: “Hypnosis.”

            “Hypnosis?” Bud and Bill said at the same time. Bud looked over at Josie. She was staring down at her feet.

“The man was a master at it. He used it every time he terminated an employee. Or when they quit. As far as I know, it worked better than any Non-Disclosure form one had to sign before setting foot on the property. If you were quarantined on the Base, back in ‘96—and I’d be surprised if you weren’t after being that close to a Rabid—then Bidwell would’ve definitely erased any pertinent information from your mind before releasing you.”

“Wait,” Bill said, baring his teeth again, “wouldn’t you have been aware of it back then, John? A nine-year-old-boy locked in a room on the base?”

“You’ve never been on the base, I can tell. It’s huge! After all these years there are still parts of it I’ve never seen—the isolation wing in the base hospital being one of them.”

Feeling Bud’s intense gaze upon her, Josie changed the subject. “Isn’t there any hope for you, Mr. Cutter?”

“Maybe. Only a
little
blood got in my eyes. And I washed it out right away! Maybe…” he repeated again, liking the sound of that word. To him, it sounded a lot like Reprieve. “We didn’t have much time for testing, but one thing we were able to learn about the virus surprised the hell out of us…”

“Yes,” Bill said, encouraging him to continue.

“Well, as you may know, the rabies virus is shed in the victim’s excess saliva. At a certain stage the throat muscles in an infected individual become paralyzed. So much so, it becomes impossible to swallow. Hence the fear of water. Not to mention all the drool. Now normally that slimy stuff is deadly, but as I’ve said before RS13 isn’t rabies as we know the disease. The transmission of typical rabies is almost exclusively through bites, when saliva passes into the victim’s bloodstream. It’s actually a tough disease to catch. In fact, there aren’t more than a handful of human cases each year in this country. Yet get just a tiny bit of saliva or any central nervous system fluid or tissue in any of your mucous membranes, and it’s time for the needle. And while that still holds true for RS13, as far as the CNS goes, blood is
much
more infective in its case—the saliva not half as deadly. When it comes to RS13,
it’s in the blood.”
The blank looks on their faces told Cutter they weren’t getting it. “My point is, that even though RS13 victims shed the virus in the same manner as the typical strain, crossover contamination isn’t nearly as predictable! Getting bitten and sexual transmissions are the only surefire ways of catching RS13! I’m talking about infected saliva being inserted right into the mucous membranes of healthy specimens, and half the time they
still
didn’t catch it!”

Josie’s face twisted in disgust. “You did that, Mr. Cutter? Played Rabid Roulette with healthy animals?”

Cutter missed her point of contention. “Only those test subjects that were already in our care. But listen to what I’m saying! Transmission of RS13 isn’t as conclusive as typical rabies! That’s its one saving grace! What makes RS13 so damn communicable is the
determination
of the infected to spread the disease!”

Bud nodded his head. Now he understood how that stuff could cover Rusty, and the little guy still not get sick. He hated to point out the obvious to John Cutter. “But sir…it wasn’t saliva that splashed in your eyes.”

“No,” Cutter paled. “No…it wasn’t. It was blood.”

“There is one other chance,” Bill said, patting Cutter on the shoulder. “Go ahead, John, tell them.”

Cutter’s eyes remained desperate. “A vaccine may yet exist at the Center.”

“Wait a minute,” Bud said, looking confused. “You said there wasn’t a vaccine.”

“I
said
we ran out of time before we could manufacture one. The answer, however, may lie in the creation of the virus itself. Since RS13 was created through the combination of the two strains, then maybe the vaccines we’ve already manufactured separately for RS6 and RS7, combined
together
, might produce a similar result.”

“Sounds plausible,” said Bill, “but I thought the military had already taken everything concerning RS13.”

“I’m hoping they missed the vaccine samples in my office fridge. Hidden in a checkerboard lunchbox, tucked in the bottom of the crisper. If they did miss it, I might be able to create a vaccine. It’ll probably be too late to do
me
any good, but at least there’ll be a vaccine for the future.”

“Why too late for you?”

“Well, Bill, assuming my samples are still there, I’ll need time to correctly combine them. Then administer the vaccine before it’s too late—which should probably be no later than four o’clock tomorrow afternoon.”

“24 hours,” Josie said, getting it.

“24 hours, Miss O’Hara. If I don't administer the vaccine within that timeline, then it won’t matter if I got it right or not. RS13 works very fast. At least that was the case with both of its precursors.”

“I thought you had until the symptoms started—or at least right before that. ”

“Not the mutant strains, Bill. That was one of the keystones of its military applications. Make it so hot that before they knew they were even sick it would be too late.”

“You should be content then,” Bud said, icily. “Seems you’ve succeeded on all counts.”

Bill was more forgiving and optimistic. “Don’t give up hope, John. We should be able to get you to the base in plenty of time tomorrow.” Bill gave his son a tired look. “Give the man a break, Bud. He was the one who insisted I lock him up with my old service handcuffs.”

Bill brought Bud and Josie up to date with the rest of his day. “We corralled Mr. Pete, and the four of us settled here in the cellar, trading horror stories for a time—up until the moment we heard what we thought was gunfire outside. With the generator making that racket in the next room, it was a wonder we heard anything at all.”

“We must’ve just missed each other, Pop. When Rusty and I came through here today, you guys were down here the whole time! I didn’t think to check the cellar. We tried taking the Jeep out back but it was flooded. I guess you tried it, too, huh?”

Bill shook his head. “Nope. It didn’t even cross my mind, son. Earlier, when I was up on the roof, I saw the Jeep was underwater. The engine compartment, anyway.”

A warning light popped on in Bud’s head. Something his dad just said. It triggered some vague insight.
Sandbags. Sandbags…
It stayed unformed, teasingly out of reach. Bud shook it off as fatigue.

Ignored, the warning light blinked off.

“Tim and I ran up to the roof to see where the gunfire was coming from; I grabbed the binoculars we keep by the door and began scanning the street below. My heart practically stopped beating the second I saw you, son. I’m not kidding,” he said, when Bud laughed. “My first instinct was to run out and go get you. But hell, those things were already converging on you and Rusty from all over the place! Besides, you were better armed than us; all we had was Garfield’s puny .22. Then it hit me.
Robbie
! I just had this feeling, you know? That he would scare the
shit
out of those zombie motherfuckers!” He gave Josie a boyish grin. “Forgive my French, sweetheart.”

“You’re forgiven, love,” Josie winked in return.

Bill returned his focus on his son. “I ran down to the lobby, and while Tim maneuvered Robbie out onto the sidewalk I got the radio control going. That took us longer than anything else—taking down enough sandbags to get the robot through the door. I knew it was going to work, though, as soon as he began clanking down the road. Those Rabids scattered like roaches! And then…well, you know the rest. Before you got here, I sent Tim down to the cellar to check on Mr. Pete. Poor guy's not looking too good. I’m worried about the old man. His heart, it’s been ailing him for years, and this shit has
got
to be taking a toll.”

“Garfield’s looking a little frazzled himself,” Josie noted with a worried brow. “You know, I’ve never heard his natural speaking voice before. So scared…”

“Yeah, well, they saw some
scary
stuff going down in that Firehouse,” Bill informed her. “It’s harder for adults to process that kind of reality. Our minds no longer have the ability to stretch and adapt like yours.”

Josie sympathized. She, too, had seen some scary shit in the Firehouse and on the
Betty Anne
and it had stretched her mind to its outer limits.

“Didn’t I see you a few days ago down by the Pines?” Cutter asked her. “A portly fellow by your side?”

“That was Ralph Tolson. He and our other friend, Rusty Huggins, are sleeping it off upstairs. Both of them lost their parents to the virus today. Mom and dads, both.”

Cutter’s face blanched. “Oh God, what misery have we unleashed on this unwitting world?”

Bud ignored Cutter’s internal anguish. It was right the man should suffer. No matter how
decent
a guy he was. “Pop, you said you
didn’t
try the Jeep today, right?”

“That’s right.”

“But you did go out the back way, didn’t you? If not today, then yesterday?”

“Not since we bagged it. Why? What is it, son?”

Bud looked up at the ceiling, where his friends lay sleeping unaware, up in the apartment above. His heart proceeded to beat a Gene Krupa riff.