And there it is Emma thought, giving a visible sigh in a second they just came a huge step closer to finding me out. I wonder if I could technically plead insanity?
She looked at the bodies head on for the first time since entering the building.
Or if they will just put me down like a rabid dog.
“You knew, didn’t you?” asked Dan, snapping her from her thoughts in an unpleasant second.
“Knew? No!” she answered, full-on knee jerk reaction.
“There was no surprise on your face, just a release. You figured it out before didn’t you?”
To her credit, Emma barely paused as Dan took the wrong conclusion – one of his first in their recent history.
“Well,” she answered carefully “I didn’t understand how someone could kill all those people in the park and then we didn’t hear anything else.”
“You have good instincts,” replied Dan. “You should have trusted them and mentioned it.”
Not a chance thought Emma, smiling and nodding. My instincts would have me rooting around in your head like a pig at a trough.
“I will try,” she answered, trying to appear slightly bashful.
“Good,” said Dan “good,” he re-iterated quietly, distractedly looking at the bodies in front of him. “Well, we had better get started – we need to look for anything else amiss before we move them.”
* * * * *
Emma was pacing like a trapped tiger up and down the meager length of her motel room. She had cited the need for a shower as an excuse to get away for an hour following the City Place mall crime scene. Really she just wanted privacy to call John, not giving a flying leap about the sheen of blood and dirt that covered her.
And I used to be such a clean girl she thought to herself.
“Seventeen dead huh,” John replied calmly to her initial fact-blurting.
“He’s going to expose us, the little asshole,” she hissed into her cellphone “I am just getting a handle on my life again, I don’t want that prick to be the end of me!”
“Yeah he is really pissing in the pool,” John answered earnestly but still thoughtful.
“Most likely people were infected, fed and ran away looking normal – all in front of cameras. He might as well have been putting on a fucking show.”
Emma paced some more after dropping her rare f-bomb and lashing out at the first thing that caught her eye - a nearby alarm clock. It spun though the air into the opposite wall, where it had the good sense to explode into pieces.
She felt no remorse, it was hard to see the red LEDs on the crappy little battery operated clock anyway. Emma suspected she was going colorblind to red in addition to her increased sight into the blue spectrum.
“It might be a good time to leave Boston,” John speculated, his voice inscrutable.
“And do what?” answered Emma “Live like a hobo? I have almost finished my degree, I will be damned if I let him drive me from town. And what if this goes national? There might be nowhere safe. They have a new machine that can analyze a sample of blood for viruses within a minute – we have to kill this thing now.”
Silence down the line.
“I am going to go back in” continued Emma after a few seconds “it might not be a great idea but I have to find out what they have on video from the mall.”
“Good luck,” John replied earnestly, not fighting her decision “don’t forget to sneak yourself some spinal fluid.”
“Thanks – I will try and get a doggie bag for you too. Last thing we need right now are more bodies” she added and hung up.
Briefly sniffing at her armpit, Emma decided to take a quick shower first. Old habits die hard.
* * * * *
Things had not gotten quieter at the CDC campus. Armed men in camouflage were running up and down the hall – they were surprisingly agile, performing impromptu dances with rushing biologists traversing the tight halls.
Finding a cluster around the section used as a command area earlier, Emma politely pushed through to find Dan and the Brigadier General. A gurney had been co-opted into a map table and Ludlow was pointing to key intersections throughout Boston while Dan provided commentary born of his local knowledge and (Emma was sure) police experience. On a screen behind them was a frozen frame from a security camera in the City Place mall.
“First priority should be evacuation of the healthy,” Dan replied, with an air of someone repeating himself for the nth time.
“You said yourself that identifying the healthy is not clear cut,” Ludlow answered, calm but decisive.
“We can test blood samples,” replied Dan.
The general turned and picked up a remote. In a few seconds he had rewound the video to the point when four men entered the mall, Emma instantly recognized the man in point position as Steve.
“Event started at 9:12 AM,” he said.
The general fast forwarded so Emma had only the briefest glimpse of Steve and his three people turn and bite hard into the nearest customers before running off camera. Ten seconds later the video stopped again.
“Event end at 9:15 AM,” he continued “Three minutes. Seventeen dead, seven presumed infected fled the premises – that’s in addition to the original four. We cannot evacuate potentially infected people with that vector. The test takes a minute per sample and there are over 600,000 people in Boston. Dividing Boston into sections is the only way to minimize contagion.”
“But as you said,” replied Dan. “The infection spreads quickly, parts of the city could be mass slaughter zones.”
Her professor outwardly looked cool but Emma could see the signs, he was getting frustrated and angry.
“We can set up a cordoned off area for the uninfected – supposedly uninfected,” the general corrected himself “then we can administer tests before releasing them on the world.” He held up a hand to forestall protests “Stopping spread of infection has to be our primary concern.”
“With respect Brigadier General, I have to disagree” countered Dan, crossing his arms over his chest.
“I respect you for doing so,” replied Brigadier General Ludlow “but any military decisions are mine and that is my final word.”
And just like that, the conversation was over. The military man turned to a subordinate and started making plans to set up blockades at key points – bridges and narrow streets. Dan waited semi-patiently for ten seconds or so without regaining the general’s attention and then quietly excused himself to go check on some imagined data.
“What happened back there?” asked Emma, matching pace with the rejected Doctor.
Dan barked a short, unhappy laugh.
“Exactly what it looked like, looks like my advice on how to handle this epidemic is no longer required,” he replied, a hint of a Scottish accent once again intriguing Emma, making her wonder about his past.
Dan turned to Emma mid-reverie, a fire behind his normally placid eyes “but that doesn’t mean we cannot continue to tackle it from a medical point of view.”
Dan continued his walk towards a small office – Emma quickly realized that this was his normal office as a professor for this university. It was little more than a closet and the only photo was of a black lab – Emma couldn’t help but feel a little sorry for the man.
I’ve always been more of a blond Labrador fan myself the little voice in her head quipped, unable to self-regulate even after the last week.
Mother is right she thought sadly I am awkward.
Sometimes Emma couldn’t help but wonder if the voices in her head actually were hers, or some spirit interloper just along for the ride. A ghostly equivalent to the Critics from the Muppets.
Sitting himself down behind the small desk across from the only other chair he had managed to squeeze into his room, Dan fished out a dark rimmed pair of glasses and perched them on his nose before picking up a printout of the genetic code of the virus to pore through. Almost immediately, he dropped it again in frustrati
on and pinched the bridge of his nose before removing the glasses again, dropping them to rest on top of the printout.
“So… how is the whole sleep thing going?” asked Emma, eager to break the tension.
“Sleep and I have a tenuous arrangement at the best of times,” replied Dan, leaning back in his swivel chair “I am afraid that talks have broken down under the current circumstances and rest has gone on strike. It is even picketing outside the building in case I hire scab workers.”
“We are still talking about getting rest right?” answered Emma with a smile.
“Hah yes, sorry – should have ended that tortured analogy long before I did.” Looking back down to the printout, Dan dared a quick point at it “Have you made any progress with the code? Anything we can use?”
“You do know these things take time right?” answered Emma with a smile – in truth, the rush of her double life meant she hadn’t even looked at it. “I can make broad generalizations though,” she added, seeing his look of disappointment.
“Generalize away” he gestured wildly.
“Obviously based from Influenza” she started “we can guess that from the shape of the antibodies. Man-made” she added.
“Why do you say that?” he queried, sitting forward in his chair curiosity piqued.
“Really just deduction. It isn’t airborne, which is the first thing geneticists do when modifying flu virus.”
Emma decided to go out on a limb, basing her next finding solely off the story John had told her about Derek.
“Also while I haven’t looked at much of the code yet the first thing I saw is it turns off a gene commonly associated with aging.”
“But why would anyone manufacture something that gives a benefit like that but turns the infected into a raving maniac,” answered Dan, throwing his arms up into the air.
“Well I doubt that was intended!” replied Emma, earnestly.
“Any clues yet as to why?” Dan asked.
Emma paused, weighing how much to give up without giving herself away but Dan – good at reading people as he was – instantly picked up on it.
“What? Come on, any half-baked theory at this point – I’m desperate” he pleaded.
“Well… I did notice one thing in common across almost all the infected bodies” Emma replied tentatively. Obviously, she hadn’t but was ad-libbing with her inside information again. Randomly Emma thought of a mad-libs book, When Emma was infected with ____ she instantly reacted by chewing the ____ off the first ____ she saw.
I missed my calling Emma lamented, before dragging herself kicking and screaming back to reality.
Weighing the need for containment against her own personal safety, Emma was forced to give up more information than she was really comfortable imparting.
“They had depressed levels of Serotonin. If I was to guess, how depressed would probably directly relate to how quickly they were killed after being infected.”
“What that’s … but that’s huge!” replied Dan, half-standing in victory. A thought occurred to him though and he sat again, perplexed. “No… it can’t be that.”
“Why not?” the young Zombie answered.
“Well, by your theory they would be eating brains by some kind of need to replenish that Serotonin but that wouldn’t do anything. It would go into the bloodstream but would be blocked from ever entering the spinal fluid by thinning capillaries – which it would need to cross in order to replenish the brain.”
“About that,” answered Emma, intent on damning herself apparently “Most of the victims had brain damage of course. A few from the most recent attack however were relatively unscathed. Even in those with no brain trauma, there seemed to be some pollution of the CSF – I am guessing here but I think the virus destroys the blood brain barrier, allowing the –“
“- Serotonin to enter the spinal fluid from the blood stream” finished Dan, now leaping from his chair. “We were right to call this your virus,” he added, flushed.
You have no idea Emma’s little head critic answered.
“I have to go check your theory,” Dan added “but if you are right, you just found a really easy way to test for the virus – check the spinal fluid for blood.”
No good deed goes unpunished thought Emma sourly, leaving the office behind Dan.
Chapter 14
A few hours later, Emma peppered Dan with excuses to get away from the lab. Given her recent “finds” he was more than happy to let her. Her promises of going to retrieve more bodies were all the excuse he really needed to hear – sample size was critical in proving common traits of a killer virus.
So it was that Emma and John stood in the street, looking gloomily at a barrier that was being erected. The thing was made of metal and came in sections; it was astounding to see how quickly the National Guard assembled it. As a section was finished a van pulled in behind it with an attached platform and ladder.
“Your friends really work very quickly don’t they,” John commented offhandedly.
Emma didn’t reply, staring intently at the platform. This was the third road they had tried – it seemed there was just no leaving South End. The military presence was setting up temporary mass accommodations in each zone for all the people unable to return home, Emma was very glad right now that she would miss that debacle by virtue of the crappy motel she was staying in.
“Remind me why we are here again?” John asked off-handedly. This was the third time he had asked the question in the last hour and it was starting to get on Emma’s nerves, the call of the small child from the back seat of the car saying “Are we there yet?”
“We are here” answered Emma through gritted teeth “because I am hoping that if we can go over the most recent crime scene again we will find something that was missed earlier.”
“Oh you mean like track their footprints with my heat vision?” asked John.
Emma stared at him for a moment. “Can you actually do th-“ she started to ask querulously.
“Of course I can’t fucking do that, dipshit” he answered, frustrated, before she could finish “you must be mistaking me for someone else. Possibly a Puma. We are not trained forensics people but you know who are? The team of people who – according to you – swept over that shitty mall with a fine tooth comb earlier.”
“So you have a better idea to find Steve then?” she asked, turning back to the barrier.
“No,” answered John sulkily.
“Then we go with my plan,” answered Emma, looking thoughtfully at the barricade as she added “but I can’t risk bluffing my way through the checkpoint with my university credentials.”
“Yeah it sucks,” commented John easily, crunching into an apple produced from the backpack he bought with him.
“Do you have any ideas?” she asked turning to him with an exasperated expression. John’s cheerful ennui was wearying after a while.
“Sure, we could take the train,” he offered between bites.
“They shut the T Train down. It was the first thing they did, stopped the subway and locked the stations,” she proved the point by gesturing exasperatedly at a nearby locked station.
“Not that train,” answered John, putting his hand on top of Emma’s head. Turning her head lightly by about 45 degrees, she found herself looking out over the bridge to an oncoming coal train that was passing by.
“That isn’t a passenger train,” she answered, unsure of herself.
“Which is why they haven’t shut it down. All these poor assholes need supplies.”
Emma looked around to a number of disenfranchised citizens who were like her staring at the hastily erected barriers – doubtless a number of them were wishing they could get home to their families.
“Well wouldn’t they be checking the trains for stowaways?” she countered.
“Maybe at some point he answered,” easily leaning over the side of the bridge to look at their latest mode of transportation. “Not yet though. If yo
u are fixing a pipe with leaks you take care of the big ones first. They will spend at least a couple of days properly shoring up all the barriers they are erecting.”
Emma tried to think of a reason why John was wrong, of how they would get caught – but it sounded no worse than anything she could come up with.
“Okay,” she answered finally.
* * * * *
“I must confess,” said Emma, fighting to raise her voice against the wind. “When you said he had to catch the train, I was most worried about the smell of hobos. I hadn’t envisioned that you were psychotic enough to have meant this.”
John was partially turned away from her, ten feet away - his idea of catching the train was riding on top of it. A slight curve of the line set Emma stumbling – looking up she saw John staring into the distance at a boarded up old building. He was standing as naturally as she would on pavement. He always looks completely at ease. I hate that about him Emma thought churlishly to herself.
“I swear I just saw some people over by the old state hospital,” he muttered absently.
“Maybe they are – eep – sightseeing,” Emma remarked, not at all comfortable traveling roof class.
“Doubtful. It has been closed for decades and is falling to pieces,” returned John, still not looking away.
“Well maybe you should check it out – anything to get off this deathtrap,” Emma said.
“Oh would you RELAX,” replied John, finally turning back to her. Even his mild annoyance made her uncomfortable, her mind replaying mixed snatches of the initial attack. It seemed so long ago.
“We can’t be going over 30 miles an hour,” he said as he stalked her way.
“I still don’t understand why we are up here,” Emma replied, squaring off to John and developing a case of backbone - though her overcompensating for the train movement ruined the effect a little.
“We are here because your balance is embarrassing. Didn’t you take ballet when you were a child? I thought females with breeding often send their girl children off for that.”
“No and even if I had, I doubt it would prepare me for this,” whined Emma.
“For what? Falling off the train when you can heal most injuries in a day or two? Yeah that must be do scawy wor woo,” John sarcastically answered and he pushed her, in the chest. Not hard but enough that she stumbled briefly.