S.W. Tanpepper's GAMELAND, Season One Omnibus (102 page)

“
Yep,” Brother Malcolm goes on. “Don't want a buncha them getting in the way. Been bit once, don't rightly want to agin.”

“
Why would they?”

He turns in his seat and stares at me.

“
Why would they bite you again? You're infected, right?”

“
The Elders still attack us,” Brother Matthew quietly answers, glancing back at me in the mirror. “They make no such distinction among the living, whether infected or not. There's something in the living brain that triggers the instinct to eat, some kind of electrochemical energy or something.”

“
Father Heall didn't seem to have any problem this morning,” I counter. “I saw him walk right past one.”

Brother Matthew shrugs tiredly. “Father Heall is…different.” He checks his watch. “We'll be at the edge of the arcade in less than an hour. Half that if there aren't any obstacles. This weather is going to slow us down a bit.”

“
As long as we get back in time. It's still a lot better than biking.”

“
Twould be next t'impossible,” Brother Malcolm exclaims.

As if to prove him right, another gust of wind slams into the side of the car, jarring us. We slide into the left lane of the highway. Brother Matthew pulls the wheel gently in the opposite direction until we're straddling the dotted white line again. The tires thump over the cracks in the asphalt.

Nobody speaks for the next half hour. We're all lost in our thoughts. I run my fingers through Shinji's fur and he rolls onto his side exposing his belly. He groans and pants happily. I wish I could be that happy. I can't remember the last time I was happy.

Brother Matthew breaks the quiet. “I think it would be best if we discussed the treatment.”

“
What's there to discuss?” I ask, resentfully. I had been thinking about Kelly and I'm reluctant to put the memory aside.

“
The half-life of the serum once it's been activated is eleven hours,” he says. “It degrades rapidly. After two half-lives it becomes ineffective.”

“
How long ago was it activated?”

“
Shortly after it was added to the stabilizer.” He glances at his wrist. “Almost four hours ago.”

Five hours ago I was in the cellar watching him draw the blood out of Father Heall. The whitish liquid inside the syringe must've been the stabilizer.

“
That gives you about a seventeen hour window to administer the treatment.”

“
Me? Don't you mean
you
? I'm not giving it to him. Besides, we'll be there in less than four hours.”

“
You should know this in case we get separated.”

“
We're not going to get separated.”

“
It could happen.”

Brother Malcolm nods and smiles idiotically. He reminds me of Shinji. “Ayup. Never know what might happen out here.”

Or in Gameland
, I think.

“
The chemical formula for the stabilizer is written on a card inside the satchel with the syringes. Instructions for how to prepare—”

“
I don't care about any of that! Besides, what good is the formula if what really matters is the anti-serum, right?”

His eyes meet mine, narrowing. “One syringe for your boyfriend. One for the boy who was bitten.”

“
It's Jake, damn it!” I shout at the back of his head. Shinji barks and Brother Malcolm jumps at the sudden noise. “His name is Jake, not
that boy who was bitten!
And we've already been through all this.”

“
The treatment won't work if he dies first,” Matthew continues, unaffected by my outburst or Shinji's bark. “That should already be obvious, since by then the damage will have become irreversible. There are a couple test kits for the other two; we'll test them as soon as we arrive. It's a simple assay; instructions are also inside. If they are infected, then we'll administer the anti-serum on the spot.”

“
Why not just give it to them anyway?”

“
It won't do any good. The active component rapidly degrades inside the bloodstream in the absence of its viral target. Seventeen hours. That gives you till early tomorrow morning to get them off the island. Otherwise, the treatment is worthless.”

“
You're telling me I've got less than twenty hours to get Reggie and Ashley off the island? Are you crazy? How is that even possible?”

“
Father Heall will help.”

“
Father Heall isn't here!”

Brother Matthew doesn't reply.

I sigh in frustration. “Okay, fine. So, when do I get Micah back?”

“
Once your friends are safely out, you'll bring the other two boys, Jake and…”

“
Kelly.”

“
Jake and Kelly. You'll bring them back to Brookhaven.”

“
And what if I don't come back?”

His eyes meet mine, but he doesn't answer.
It's your choice, they seem to say.
Except we both know there really isn't one after all.

“
Tell me what's in the treatment,” I demand. “What are we giving to them?”

“
The active component is a protein. To be precise, a mutated form of a very special kind of protein called a
prion
.”

“
I don't know what that is.”

“
Prions are transmissible, non-heritable, catalytic—”

“
Wait, transmissible? What the hell does that mean?”

“
It means they're infectious. Think of mad cow disease. Or scrapie in sheep. Those are also prions. In this case, these are human proteins. What we've learned is that there are actually three forms of the same protein. First, there's the one that's already inside of us all. This is the normal form—wildtype, as we call it—and it's usually harmless. But when it comes into contact with the viral form, which is the first prionic form, it refolds, and that's what causes the disease. Now, the mutant protein that's found in the treatment is also a prionic form, but it acts to block the viral form.”

“
I'm sorry I asked,” I grumble.

Brother Malcolm nods sympathetically. “Me, too.”

“
In the case of Artie, the viral protein—”

“
Artie” The name sounds familiar. “Who's Artie?”

“
The re-engineered dengue virus that causes reanimation. It was code-named
r-d7.04
. I'm sure you must have heard the term before…given your family history.”

My face reddens.

But now the name does begin to sound more than just familiar. From some dark, dusty corner of my memory, an image arises: the word printed on ancient papers in my grandfather's office, papers marked INFECTED FILES that I'd learned sometime later were supposed to have been destroyed years earlier.

“
Artie was what they named the first zulu,” I say. “The first zombie.”

Brother Matthew nods. “Q-Artie was the code name for the first infectious construct engineered in the laboratory, nearly eighteen years ago.”

The year before I was born.

“
The viral prion form of Q-Artie is responsible for tissue plastination, which is essential for reanimation. By blocking that step with this mutant form, it can't refold and disease progression is blocked. For a while, anyway.”

“
How long?”

Brother Matthew shrugs. “A few months in most cases. Up to a year in others. It depends.”

“
On what?”

“
We haven't figured that out yet.”

“
And that's why I have to bring Kelly and Jake back.”

Brother Matthew nods. “Yes.”

I remain silent for several minutes, mulling this over again. I can save Kelly and Jake, but only by making them prisoners here.

“
Father Heall isn't his real name, is it?” I say. “Just like Brother Matthew isn't yours. You used to be a scientist. What did Father Heall used to be?”

“
There are no more scientists, Jessica. They've all been outlawed, remember? There is only faith.”

I chuff at the pretense. “You think I'm going to report you to the police?”

He shakes his head, chuckling. “You remember what we were talking about on our way out here?” he asks. “We were talking about Prometheus.”

“
The guy who made man out of mud.”

“
It was clay.”

“
Fine, clay. He was punished by being tied to a mountain so his liver could be eaten out every day.”

“
Only to have it grow back again overnight. That's right. Well, we all play at being God, Jessica. Every single one of us. It's in our nature. But so few of us are ready to understand, much less accept the consequences of the things we create.”

“
Don't bring me into this. I had nothing to do with any of this.”

“
Not the Undead, no. But you are a part of it nonetheless.”

He meets my gaze once more in the mirror. There's just the tiniest bit of a crinkle in them, as if he's trying not to smile. He holds it for a couple seconds. Then he says, “In the tale of
Frankenstein
—”

“
Oh!” Brother Malcolm exclaims. “I read that book. Scared the panties off me, it did.”

I stifle a giggle as Brother Matthew frowns at him. “The tragedy,” he continues, “wasn't that the monster was misunderstood by the world, but that it was rejected by its creator. It was this singular act of rejection which drove the monster to lash out at the world.”

In the film version I remember the monster being chased into a swamp by pitchfork-wielding townspeople. I vaguely remember something about it killing someone—maybe even Doctor Frankenstein himself—but for the life of me all I can picture is Reggie's bad acting as he swept Ashley up in his arms and carried her off to one of the unused bedrooms upstairs, mewling as she shrieked in mock fright. I still can't see what it has to do with me.

“
So,” I say, “are you saying that Father Heall sees himself as sort of like Doctor Frankenstein?”

He gives me a slight shake of the head. “No, Jessica, I think you know that's not what I mean. He thinks of himself as the monster.”

 

“Look out!”
Brother Malcolm cries out.

Brother Matthew's eyes swivel from the mirror to the road ahead—or rather, to where the road
used to be
. Now it's a gaping hole with crumbling sides opening up a hundred feet in front of us. He stomps on the brakes and I go crashing into the footwell, wrenching my neck as my chin connects with the back of his seat. Shinji tumbles forward and lets out a surprised yelp.

I manage to push myself back up and scream, “We're not slowing!”

The engine revs. Matthew spins the steering wheel to the right.

The car begins to fishtail out of control, sliding sideways, jerking me around and slamming me into my door. Out my window, the canyon yawns ever wider and deeper, the edge rushing ever closer. I brace myself, but he turns the wheel in the other direction, throwing me across the back seat.

“
Wrong way!” Brother Malcolm shouts. He grabs for the wheel. The two men wrestle for control.

The car jerks around, then rockets toward the middle of the road, toward the center divider. Somewhere nearby, someone is screaming. I'm not sure if it's me or not.

Now we're going backwards. Now sideways again. The world zips past us, spinning faster and faster.

“
Hold on!”

No shit!
My mind screams, but coherent speech is entirely out of the question. My jaw feels like it's been wired shut and my heart is stuck in my throat.

The concrete divider looms in Shinji's window. And then the lock on my throat snaps and I scream. We hit the barrier and the noise of metal grinding and twisting and splitting is so terrible in my ears that it sounds as if the world itself is coming apart. I'm flung across the seat and back into my footwell, where I land on top of Shinji. He lets out another yelp, snapping his teeth near my nose. Together we slam into the passenger side door.

With a screech, the car rocks up onto its side, lifting up and onto the divider. Then—slowly at first—then all at once, it slams down onto its roof. There's an explosion of cool, wet air and pain as the windows implode, showering us with diamonds. I hear something splash, see water dripping. I hear barking and feel Shinji push his way past me and out of the car. At least I know he's not hurt too bad. I hear the crunch of glass beneath the roof as we spin to a stop, rocking and juddering, the wheels above us squeaking and squealing—

And the smell of gasoline burning in my nose—

Fire!

The sound of the horn blaring—

And thunder—

The redness of blood dripping from someplace above me, though I can't turn my head enough to see where it's coming from, only that it's falling onto my arm and spilling down my fingertips like red paint, and I watch it, fascinated, as the blood pools onto the worn fabric of the car's ceiling, bleeding into it. A lot of blood. I don't really feel enough pain to warrant so much blood.