Path of Jen: Bloodborne (18 page)

Jen stood in the room staring at the solid
white door, confused and upset. Going outside was the high point of
her day.
“If I cant go outside, then what?”
she thought. She
took her tray of food and sat disappointedly at the desk. Jen
unwrapped the hijab and tossed it on the bed behind her. She
carefully ate her meal, conscious of the white clothing she wore,
and considered what this change might mean.
“Am I going to be
treated differently now? Are they getting ready to send me
somewhere or make me do something else?"

At supper time the same soldier brought her a
tray of food. Jen asked him the same questions, but he still
refused to answer. An old woman in a black burka came after him and
brought Jen a clean dress for the following day. Just like the
soldier, she wouldn’t answer Jen’s questions. Her eyes were kind
and somehow apologetic when she quietly refused to answer. The old
woman left and the soldier closed the door.

“
Why is everyone acting so weird?”
Jen
thought after the door closed.

Jen walked to the TV and flipped it back on.
She was surprised to see Imam Hassan speaking to the camera. His
message was short, but compelling. He emotively urged all followers
to receive a special vaccination. “Judgment day is coming for the
infidels, and Allah has declared that only his faithful will be
spared. In the next month, a vaccine will be distributed to Muslim
communities around the world." With conviction he counseled, “It
is…wise to get this vaccine while you can. If you do not…" A
close-up picture of Jen’s eyes flashed across the screen and then
it went black. A few seconds later the message started again.

Jen sat on the bed, suddenly numb. “Why is my
picture being used to warn people to get that vaccination?" Jen
looked down at her arm and pulled up the white sleeve. She touched
the part of her arm where the doctor drew blood. She felt the vein
underneath her skin as her mind raced to move this disturbing
riddle. “My blood helped to create a vaccine…why would my image be
a warning? I am supposed to be a warning to non-believers, but not
to Muslims, right?”

She watched the video again and felt no
closer to an answer. Memories of visiting the doctor in his lab,
being pricked by needles and watching the blood flowing out of her
body, and still more needles delivering medicine or something else
back into her body flickered quickly through her mind. She also
recalled many nights hearing violent screaming, shouting, and then
gun shots nearby. She remembered the acrid smell of smoke each
morning after those nights. She thought of the video message she
had recorded and the radical propaganda it had been made into. She
kept seeing the image of her eyes flashing and then fading to black
after the Imam’s warning.

Jen kept mulling these questions as she ate
her supper alone in her room. It was difficult to sleep and she
turned the TV on a few times throughout the night to see if
anything new was being played. After midnight the channel stopped
broadcasting. She turned the TV off and left it off until
morning.

When she awoke, Jen went through her morning
exercises and showered. There was a knocking on the door and she
rushed to answer it. She didn’t want to spend another day cooped up
inside her apartment, and she hoped to see Maria waiting in the
hall. With hair dripping and wearing only a towel, Jen opened the
door slightly and peeked out. “Oh!” she exclaimed when she saw who
it was, and she slammed the door closed. In Farsi, she shouted
“Just a moment, please!” and rushed to get dressed. Once she was
dressed, without any of her jewelry or makeup, she opened the door
and let the doctor in. He wore his lab coat and rubber examination
gloves.

“Please sit,” he instructed in English. “I
want to check your vitals." He pointed to the bed and Jen sat on
the edge obediently. He took a thermometer from the breast pocket
of his lab coat and placed it under her tongue. Then he opened a
black leather satchel he was carrying and withdrew a stethoscope
and blood pressure cuff. As he put the cuff on her arm he said,
“How have you been feeling? Okay?" Jen nodded. “Any headaches or
nausea?" Jen shook her head. He began to pump air into the cuff and
Jen felt it tighten on her arm. “Very good,” he said. “How are your
energy levels? Are you feeling lethargic or more tired than
usual?"

“I feel fine,” she said around the
thermometer.

He nodded and listened to the stethoscope as
he checked her blood pressure. The air slowly escaped the cuff as
he twisted a small brass knob. He let the rest of the air out and
removed the cuff. He pulled the stethoscope out of his ears and let
it slide down around his neck. The doctor took the thermometer from
Jen’s mouth and looked at it briefly before tossing it in the trash
can near her desk. He pulled his gloves off and tossed them in the
same trash can. “Now, for the big question." He pulled the chair
from the desk and turned it around to sit in front of her. He sat
down and looked her in the eyes. He seemed to be searching for the
answer before he asked the question. Finally, he asked, “Can I
trust you?”

Jen was taken aback.
“Can you trust me?
Seriously? How could you possibly trust me? You all have me so
mixed up I don’t know who or what I am! I am locked in this tiny
room as a prisoner, yet you have me wearing jewels and fancy
dresses like I’m somebody important! No you can’t trust me, because
I can’t trust you!”
she wanted to shout. Instead she looked him
in the eyes and flatly said, “Yes, of course.”

He continued staring into her eyes and
finally looked away and stared at the wall, as if thinking. The
doctor looked her in the eyes again and reached out to gently touch
her arm. “Jenna, it is very important that you understand what
we…what I’ve done to you." He withdrew his hand and took a deep
breath. He let it out slowly and continued. “It’s dangerous for
me…for anyone to be near you, Jenna. It’s dangerous for me to be
telling you this." He leaned forward and said, “You are very
special, as I told you, but it’s not for the reason I…" He stopped
and looked at the door. He seemed nervous.

“It’s okay doctor,” said Jen reassuringly.
She needed him to finish telling her this. She needed to know the
truth.

“Jenna, you have helped develop an effective
preventative vaccine; that much is true. But the vaccine was
necessary only because you also helped to develop an impressively
aggressive pathogen. One that causes a devastating illness, and
most often death when introduced." He looked at her with intense
concentration, as if willing her to speak.

Jen wrinkled her brow and asked, “I helped
make a virus?”

The doctor nodded solemnly and explained,
“Your body contained all of the antibodies and natural defenses
that people in most first world countries possess. Using your blood
as a test subject, we fine-tuned a virus that has been in the works
for decades. We were able to make it particularly deadly to those
with the same antibodies you possess." He began to get more
animated and Jen could see that he was truly vested in this
project. It gave her chills to see how passionate he was about it.
“Jenna, we could have used anyone, but what truly made this work
was that I chose you. Not only are you a young, attractive, and
Muslim female, but you brought something to the project that I did
not anticipate. Jenna, do you know that this has been tried many
times before? We ran numerous trials on animals, even on wild
animal in Kazakhstan! Do you remember hearing about it in the news?
Sixty thousand antelope died practically overnight! They said it
was caused by a bacteria,” he said excitedly. “Now you know what
really happened. It was such a success that we moved immediately to
human trials, but even after we developed a passable pathogen, they
could not tolerate being a host to the virus. Only you, Jenna, have
been able to successfully host the virus. Not only that, but the
virus I was able to make from your blood is ten times as vicious as
any other we have created. You must have heard the screams! It was
brilliant!”

Jen couldn’t move. She was more frightened
than she had ever been at that moment. All she could do was listen
and try not to fall apart completely.

“Jenna, the test subjects we injected with
the pathogen became uncontrollably aggressive and immediately
infectious, quickly followed by a severe and debilitating fever.
The symptoms were nearly instantaneous and presented the same in
all twenty of them. One hundred percent died. In later testing,
those we injected with the vaccine were initially aggressive, but
not infectious. They succumbed to a fever as well, but many
survived.”

Jen’s fear began to wane and a spark of anger
replaced it. It smoldered as the doctor spoke and fanned into
hungry flame. Soon Jen was trembling with anger and she bit her lip
to keep from betraying her true feelings with hasty words.

The doctor placed a hand on her shoulder and
said, “Jenna, you are truly a miracle! They cannot possibly prepare
for the epidemic that you will spark with your sacrifice. You will
bring the West to its knees and then watch from heaven as Islam
conquers the entire world!”

A tear escaped Jen’s eyes and ran down her
cheek. The doctor smiled and Jen bit harder on her lip. She tasted
blood. There was no thought associated with what happened next. It
was not bravery or righteousness. It was not calculation or logical
reasoning. It was simply a gut reaction to an impossible situation
and overwhelming anger. Jen spit in the doctor’s face.

It was as if she was watching a movie in slow
motion. She saw a spray of red tinged spittle explode into the air
between their faces. The doctor’s eyes tried to shut their
protective lids against the airborne saliva, but it was too
late.

Jen realized what she had done as she watched
the doctor blinking in surprise.

“What did you do?” he shouted. “No!” he
yelled as he stood and stumbled about the room. He wiped
frantically at his eyes and face.

Jen raced past him and locked herself in the
bathroom. She heard the front door open, and a soldier asked what
was happening. There was scuffling noises and then something heavy
falling to the floor. Jen heard crashing and the sound of furniture
breaking, and then there was a piercing scream. She heard more
voices shouting and then coming closer. There was yelling, a scream
and some gun shots. Jen crouched in the shower and prayed, “Dear
God in Heaven, please save me! What ever this is, spare me! Let me
go home!" She began to cry as she heard more screaming. More gun
shots rang out. “Please, just let me go home!”

The sounds of violence traveled farther and
farther away. Finally it was silent. Jen strained to listen.
“Nothing,”
she thought. She stood up and cautiously opened
the bathroom door and gasped.

Laying on his back, with a gunshot wound to
his chest and his eyes fixed open, was the young soldier that
brought her trays of food the day before. In the doorway, the body
of another soldier, sat slumped over and motionless. As Jen got
nearer to him, she saw blood pooling beneath him. In the hall, the
doctor was laying on his back. His head was moving side to side
slowly, and he appeared to be sweating profusely.
“The
fever,”
Jen thought. She looked beyond the doctor and realized
she didn’t have a plan.

“
I need to get out of here, but how?”
wondered Jen. She looked back to the room and saw the dead soldier
slumped in the doorway. Suddenly feeling hopeful, she ran back to
the room. She stepped past the soldier in the doorway and the
dragged him backward into the room. “Dang, this guy’s heavy!" Once
he was laid out, she searched him for anything useful. He had a
gunshot wound to the hip, and a large open wound on his face.
“Gross,” she said. Jen pulled the rifle sling over his head and set
the gun on the bed. Searching his pockets, she found a black,
pull-over mask and tossed it onto the bed as well. There was a
pistol in a holster on his hip and a knife on his opposite hip. She
tossed both onto the bed and moved to the next soldier.

She searched his pockets and found what
looked like a key card. She tossed it up onto the bed and kept
searching. When she had searched all of his pockets, she unbuckled
his pants and untied his shoes. Like many of the ISIS soldiers, he
wore white tennis shoes instead of black boots. She quickly
stripped the shoes and trousers off and shimmied into them. She
tied the shoelaces in double knots and then cinched the belt as
tight as it would go. It was still a little loose, but her trousers
would stay up. Next, she went to the other soldier and unbuttoned
his shirt and put it on. Jen hurriedly stuffed the knife in a
pocket and the pistol in her belt. She picked up the rifle and
ducked her head into the sling. She pointed it at the wall and
pulled the trigger. Nothing happened. “Dang it!" Jen looked at the
weapon and saw a lever along the upper receiver just above the
trigger well. She pushed it down and pointed the barrel at the wall
again. This time there was a loud, “Bang!” when she pulled the
trigger.
“Alright!"
Jen pushed the lever back up and checked
herself. She remembered the mask and grabbed it from the bed. She
pulled it over her head and said, “Okay, I’m ready." One deep
breath and she was running down the hall.

“
Just get out of the city,”
she
thought.
“Get out of this building and then out of the
city."
Jen made it to the double doors and just before the
lobby and stopped. Her heart was racing and she could feel it
pounding in her chest. Above the thumping she heard shouting and
then screaming on the opposite side. Jen held her breath and said a
prayer.
“Dear God help me now."
She pressed her lips
together, moved the safety lever to the off position, and pushed
through.