"Thank you. That will be all," I said, dismissing the umpteenth civilian. Rubbing my eyes, I walked to the window. The campus was dark. Only a few lit buildings cast any illumination on the grounds at all. The star-filled sky looked amazing. I had never seen so many stars and constellations. With so little ambient light, the cosmos seemed to open up before my eyes.
"Here's the last," the orderly informed from the door.
Without turning from the incredible view, I answered, "Thank you."
I really didn't want to tear my eyes off of the incredible view. The night was moonless as well as cloudless. It was perfect for stargazing.
Just as I was about to resume my duties as the chief interviewer, I caught movement on the poorly illuminated sidewalk. It looked like four guards were helping a darkly dressed person toward the science hall. I couldn't make out much more. They had shut down the generators in that building, so it was completely dark except for thin beams from the soldier's flashlights.
Distracted by the strange scene, I turned to see a middle-aged woman seated on the other side of the wooden table, her hands folded neatly in her lap. She looked somewhat nervous as she awaited my line of questioning.
"What is your name?" I asked, breaking the ice.
"Pamela, Pamela Mason," she responded, then cleared her throat loudly.
"And what did you do before the outbreak?" I asked, not too hopeful.
"Are you referring to employment?"
"Yes," I clarified. The way she phrased her question made me think she was a teacher or something.
She was looking down at her hands. Her mouth worked for a moment, then she met my eyes. It was as though she was judging me, measuring my humanity. "I was a senior researcher at the University of Pittsburgh. We worked mostly with WHO and the CDC in developing vaccines for seasonal flu viruses, as well as other possible viral outbreaks."
I couldn't believe what I had just heard. If I could have placed any person in camp, it would be someone like her. She was perfect. Jackpot.
"When can you start?" I asked sarcastically.
"Excuse me?"
"I was just kidding," I explained. I think Dean was wearing off on me. "Can you meet me at six a.m. tomorrow to be briefed?"
"I guess so," she hesitantly answered. I could see the reluctance return to her eyes, almost as if she already regretted her affirmation.
"I'll meet you at the front of the Science Center," I said while standing.
I offered her my hand. She had the look of a Christian who had just entered the lion's den. Pamela took my hand and I felt hers tremble slightly in my grasp.
As agreed, after the interviews, I headed off to Old Main, which was Headquarters of Operations. I told the Colonel's secretary that I was here and she motioned me inside. He closed his laptop as I entered, acting like he was waiting for me.
"Any luck?" he asked, sounding hopeful.
"We hit the jackpot," I answered. "Did you know you had a senior researcher for the University of Pittsburgh here in camp?"
"Outstanding!" he said loudly. "I had no idea."
I went into great detail about the process, describing some of the more interesting people and the jobs they had done. When I spoke of Pamela, he sat forward in his seat, grinning ear to ear.
Colonel O'Neill actually walked me to the door. His hand resting on my shoulder, I thought he was going to hug me in joy over the recent events.
I returned to our room. Melissa sat by the window, looking out over the dark courtyard.
"How did it go?" she asked, followed by a long, drawn-out yawn.
"Great. We found our guy, er... gal," I corrected, walking into her embrace.
I could feel her breath on my neck. She smelled like strawberries. How women can find perfumes in such hostile times, I have no idea. The warmth of her body was welcome even on this humid night.
"That sounds good," she agreed. "Is she pretty?"
I spent the next hour retelling the interview process to Mel. She enjoyed hearing what people had done for work. When I described Pamela's credentials, she was so impressed she whistled.
"That sounds perfect. Do you think you can create a cure?"
"It's a long shot," I answered. "Dealing with parasites is typically a slow process. But it is possible."
"Why would a parasite want to kill us at all?" she asked, "I thought that they kept us alive so we could spread them around?"
"It depends on their life cycle. Normally, many parasites live quite passively inside their host, quietly attaching to the wall of the intestines and absorbing the nutrients they need to survive. The mature parasites eggs are left to be excreted and the cycle begins again. Many of these parasites have no means of self-propulsion. They must lay in wait of a host to devour and transport them to where they need to be."
"Others, though," I continued, "Kill their host, leaving the corpse for their future host to come in contact with. However, it is uncommon. It's typically more advantageous to keep the host alive so the parasite can pump out many generations to ensure the species’ survival. So I guess the short answer is that I don't know."
"Can our immune system fight them off?"
"We are at a serious disadvantage in this war. The life cycle of these tiny invaders is quite short. This means they evolve at such a high rate that we can't keep up with them. The only way of battling a parasite is to flush it out completely or introduce some type of medication, which can kill it. Our body will then absorb the foreign material."
"That is so gross."
“The sad thing is that millions of people have parasites living in them at any given time. They can cause anything from exhaustion to behavioral changes. We have actually lived symbiotically with them for so many generations that some have become part of our genetic code. They are actually written in our DNA."
"You are so smart. I can't believe you love me," she said.
I looked at my wife, amazed. She was so beautiful, she had friends and a wonderful sense of humor. Melissa was truly great. I couldn't see what she saw in dorky old me.
"You're the one who traded down," I answered, taking her in my arms again and kissing her deeply.
We went to bed, the sounds of distant gunfire an ever-present reminder of our precarious situation. I lay holding Melissa as she slept. The rhythm of her breathing felt comforting as my mind filled with puzzles, making sleep elusive.
The alarm clock buzzed, but I had been awake for hours. Something Melissa said kept cycling through my mind. Why would it want to kill us? It didn't make sense. I didn't know what type of parasite our present invader evolved from, but if we could locate where it was living that may indicate who our new guy was before its evolution.
I reached over to the nightstand and switched the offending noise off. Mel pulled the sheet tightly about her neck and mumbled something to me. Kissing her nose, I rose from the bed.
The birds were singing through the open window. The sound of distant gunfire gave an all too familiar accompaniment to their song. I made my way to the shower. Sharing my findings with someone who would understand the technical aspects of my work was exciting. It would be good to have Pamela's expertise in the lab.
Soap and shampoo were a real luxury but finding clean clothes folded crisply on the dresser was a real treat. I had gotten rashes from wearing dirty clothes. The soft, slightly worn fabric of the jeans and t-shirt made me feel like a new man.
Clean and dressed, I went straight to the lab. I would have one of O'Neill's staff bring me something to eat later. He was good about that. He wanted me in my lab and focused on the problem as much as possible, so I didn't think it would be out of line.
The sun was just appearing on the horizon as I met Dr. Mason at the entrance to the science hall. I can understand why she was reluctant to use her title earlier. When someone heard you were a Doctor, they immediately thought you we
re a medical doctor. I had that same problem, and to tell you the truth, in this post-apocalyptic world, it was more of a burden than anything else.
"Thank you for being prompt," I said, extending my hand. She accepted it cautiously and gave a brief shake.
"You’re a hand shaker I see," she observed.
"Force of habit," I apologized, looking at my hand. "I will refrain from now on."
We entered the building and two armed guards escorted us to my lab. One of the men entered the room, while the other stationed himself outside the door. Pamela looked at me skeptically. I just shrugged and began disclosing my notes.
As I unveiled the findings, she began to act like a true scientist. Her brow wrinkled as she looked at the tiny larva in the first blood sample. I could see that the puzzle was starting to hook her as she read through the notes I had printed out for her.
While she was reading, I asked the sergeant if he could get some food and coffee delivered. He radioed in our request and they told us it would be on its way.
"Fascinating," she breathed, pushing her glasses more securely to her head. "Where do we go from here?"
"I told the Colonel we needed a subject," I explained.
It was then that the guard stepped forward, a young man with a freshly shaven face. "We have your subject in a room down the hall," he reported.
A shiver of foreboding rifled through me as I turned to him. "Are you serious?"
"Yes, sir. We brought it in last night. When you are ready, I was instructed to take you to it."
I woodenly followed the sergeant through the door, followed by Dr. Mason. Three doors down, he rapped at the door in measured succession. The door opened, revealing two more men with pistols in hand.
"How's our prisoner?" he joked.
"Hungry," the shorter of the two answered jokingly, nodding his head to the far wall.
There, in the brightly lit room, was one of the undead, dressed in blue jeans and a barely recognizable Pittsburgh Steelers t-shirt. The smell in the room was horrendous. When the undead beast saw us, he made a muffled moan and reached for us but handcuffs halted his movement, stopping him in mid stride. Pamela gasped, drawing back from the hideous creature as it tried to open its duct-taped mouth.
"He's all yours, Doc," our young guard offered.
I just stood rooted to the spot. I was way out of my league. I didn't know what to do next.
"I need to speak with the Colonel," I offered to no one in particular.
The smaller guard walked over to the undead and slammed the butt of his weapon into its midsection. "You're scaring the scientists!" he yelled in mock anger. The creature doubled over briefly, then resumed its attempts at forward motion.
"I'm sorry," he apologized sarcastically. "He doesn't have any manners."
I looked at the bound monster and then at the guard. We aren't so different from them, I thought to myself.
"Inform O'Neill that we're on our way," I commanded the young sergeant as I left the room in a rage.
Chapter 29
Melissa