Tainted Future (The Rememdium Series Book 3) (6 page)

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Authors: Ashley Fontainne

Tags: #horror, #sci-fi, #zombies, #post apocalyptic

BOOK: Tainted Future (The Rememdium Series Book 3)
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Kyle took a deep breath. Reed felt the tightness in the man’s shoulders ease up. “Guess you’re right. It’s the last piece of a normal life I’ve got left. Been carryin’ it around like some stupid fool ever since I bought it, afraid I’d lose it.”

If Reed didn’t walk away, he’d fall apart. Regina would have loved the simple, yet elegant ring, and looking at it, knowing it would never grace her finger, made Reed’s heart pound with grief. He gave Kyle’s shoulder a rough slap then started walking. After taking a few steps, he said, “Was on my way to help Walter and Turner with the water pump so we can all take us a hot shower. We
all
need to get the last forty-eight-hours’ worth of funk off. Could probably use some help.”

“Of course,” Kyle answered.

Reed heard him sniffle twice while they made their way up the twisty trail. After a few minutes of silence, he whispered, “She’da said yes. No doubt.”

The crunch of Kyle’s footsteps behind him stopped. Reed continued forward, unwilling to turn around.

“I’ll catch up. Call of nature,” Kyle mumbled.

Nodding, Reed kept going, blinking back tears. Kyle’s voice had cracked with emotion, and Reed knew he needed a minute or two alone to compose himself. Reed wasn’t a sentimental kind of man, but considering any minute could be their last, he felt Kyle needed to know Regina really did love him.

I would have gladly called you brother, Kyle. Gladly.
Hey sis, you watching from up there? Did you see that? Kyle bought you a ring! He actually wanted to marry your stubborn ass! Chief Pender sounds nice, doesn’t it?

Reed’s internal thoughts vanished when the sounds of yet another argument up ahead reached his ears. This time, it was Turner and Walt scrapping with each other. He was too far away to catch the words, but the angry tones rang across the valley.

Picking up his pace, Reed heard Kyle come up behind him.

“Sounds like someone woke up on the wrong side of a cot this mornin’,” Kyle muttered.

“Yeah. Guess they forget we should be grateful for the chance to wake up another day. Come on, let’s get in between them before Walt loses it. He’s runnin’ on fumes.”

“Ain’t we all?”

Reed and Kyle rounded the curve of the trail just as Walt yelled, “Turner? What the hell are you doin’?”

“I’m just, I see somethin’ down there. Oh, shit!” Turner screamed.

“Turner!”

Reed and Kyle ran faster. They made it just in time to see Turner’s legs disappear over the edge of a cliff.

 

STUCK IN THE MUD - Monday, December 22
nd
  – 7:15
a.m. – Central Standard Time

 

Everett stopped writing when he heard footsteps approach the door. Chill bumps burst from his skin, wondering if Kevin, or one of the others, had come to take him out.

“Doc? Got a minute?”

“Of course,” Everett was thrilled it was Dirk and not someone who wanted to pound his face to a pulp.

Dirk opened the door and stepped inside. Everett noticed he’d shaved and changed clothes. He needed to do the same, but he’d been so wrapped up in researching, he’d neglected his own personal hygiene.

Dirk crinkled his nose. “Time for you to take a break and eat. Oh, and reacquaint yourself with soap and water. You’re kinda rank, Doc.”

Heat filled Everett’s cheeks. “Yes, I’m aware. You know it’s bad when you can smell your own scent. Just trying to tie up some loose ends.”

Dirk stopped about ten feet away from Everett, glancing over at the notes. “We all appreciate your dedication, Doc. Really. However, since we’re sharing living space down here, and there really isn’t much ventilation, we all need to make the effort to remain clean. Come one, the rest of the gang went topside. The shower’s all yours.”

Everett moved to the other side of the room and grabbed a suitcase. After removing a fresh pair of pants, underwear, shirt and socks, he turned to face Dirk. “Thanks for watching out for my safety. Part of the reason I’ve remained in my room is, well, you know. I figured out of sight, out of mind.”

Stepping back to the door, Dirk exited the room into the hallway. “I think you’ve overestimated how we feel about you, Doc. Yes, Warton is still upset, but he’s cranky with all of us, too. It’s not just you. He’s not handling what happened with Porterfield well. Can’t really blame him. They’ve been friends for a long time. Went through some heavy shit in Afghanistan together. They were more like brothers rather than friends. Being forced to kill someone you care about isn’t easy to recover from.”

“I can’t even begin to understand the depth of his pain,” Everett muttered while following Dirk down the hall. “I hope I never have to.”

“You might, considering any or all of us may turn up sick. If that happens, you’ll have no choice but to shoot. That’s the way of the world now. Kill, or be killed.”

“Yeah, then reanimate.”

“Again, that’s where you come in, Obi. You’ve had your head buried for the last two days. Any new developments? Ideas? Epiphanies?”

“The sticking point right now is the fungi. They’ve always been a virulent pathogen, destroying more species than all others combined. Scientists have identified over seventy-five thousand different fungi species, yet some researchers recently suggested in papers their actual numbers may be over the one million mark.”

Dirk groaned. “That’s comforting to know. Is that why you’re having such a hard time with your own research?”

“Yes. For one, I only have access to the few books I had on hand here. Without the ability to search the internet, or even communicate with other scientists, it’s kind of like looking for a needle in a haystack.”

“Because you can’t narrow down which particular fungus was inside Porterfield, right?”

“Correct.”

Dirk furrowed his brow. “I don’t understand. Aren’t you a microbiologist? Isn’t this like, your forte?”

“Yes, which is why this is so damned frustrating. I’ve never seen this particular species before. I’ve looked through all the books I have until my eyes actually crossed, but no luck. Until I can figure out what species it is, trying to create an antifungal will be impossible. Besides, I’m going to need more than what’s inside Porterfield to manufacture its opposite.”

“Why? I mean, it’s just a bug, right? Can’t bugs be killed?”

Everett almost laughed until he realized Dirk was serious. “Fungi are not insects. They aren’t animals or plants, either. They do share some common traits with us, such as breathing oxygen and getting energy from ingesting food. Both humans and fungi are eukaryotes.”

“Doc, remember, English please? Dummy this down for me.”

“Oh, sorry. What I meant was, the cells of fungi and humans are very similar. Each has a nucleus and organelles, which are enclosed in membranes inside each cell, and responsible for carrying out certain biological functions. We also have in common similar sets of genes and cellular processes.”

Dirk rubbed his forehead. Everett sensed his frustration. “So, what exactly does that mean, Doc?”

“Let me come at this from a different angle. Ever had athlete’s foot, or knew anyone who did?”

“Yes. Had a wicked case of that shit years ago. Thought I’d never get rid of it.”

Everett smiled, glad to have found common ground. “Exactly! The reason why it’s so difficult to kill off a fungal infection is because of the similarities in the cellular structures. When attempting to kill the fungus with an antifungal, oftentimes, the side effects in human cells are disastrous. Tissue death usually occurs.”

“Aren’t you full of good news?”

“Hey, you asked. Don’t shoot the messenger.”

They both stopped at the door leading to the small, community shower. Dirk took a deep breath before asking, “So, let me see if I can grasp all this medical mumbo-jumbo. The fungus in Porterfield isn’t a strain—”

“Species,” Everett interrupted.

Dirk narrowed his eyes, clearly annoyed at Everett’s correction. “What’s in Porterfield isn’t a
species
you’re familiar with, and to plan an attack strategy against this mess, you need to know exactly what sort of fungus you’re dealing with. Right so far?”

Everett nodded, unwilling to interrupt.

“And even if you do find out what type of species this thing is, it might not matter, because killing it just might kill the infected person? Well, they’re already dead, but you get my drift.”

Again, Everett nodded.

“So, basically, you’re saying were fucked?”

The look of fear and sadness in Dirk’s eyes gave Everett the push needed to answer. “No, not completely. This particular fungus didn’t retreat into a spore, which is good news for us. Usually, when under attack, they do. When that happens, fungi can live outside of their hosts without food for long periods of time. However, the fungi inside Porterfield did not do that. The other strange thing is all the cells converged in the brain, rather than the lungs, like most fungi.”

“So, the disease isn’t airborne?”

“No, it’s not. Which is a good thing for us. As I mentioned before, transmission only occurs through an exchange of bodily fluids, or ingestion of something tainted with the fungi.”

“That must be the silver lining, huh?”

Everett nodded then added, “The other thing that’s bothering me is I don’t believe this particular species is native to the United States. Based on its structure, I’d say it’s from someplace with a moist, tropical environment. I’ve never seen anything like it before. That, however, is just an educated guess at this point.”

For a few seconds, Dirk chewed on his bottom lip while staring at the ceiling. Finally, he asked, “You mentioned earlier you needed more of the fungi?”

“Yes. I’ll need quite a bit to create—”

“An antifungal. Got it. So, guess this means when the guys return, we’ll need to make a decision who’s going to go get more specimens.”

The sound of Warton and the others walking down the hallway set Everett’s nerves on edge. The other men were big and burly, as was Warton, yet none of them held the animosity toward him like Kevin did.

“Breathe, Doc. He’s not a rabid dog you know.”

“I beg to differ. Think I’ll go take my shower now, just in case he has aspirations again of choking me to death.”

Kevin rounded the corner, the rest of the men behind him. They all looked tired and edgy. Kevin gave a stern look to Everett before turning his attention toward Dirk. “We’ve got company. Found four Humvees about three miles away.”

“Any signs of their owners?” Dirk queried.

“No, but the vehicles have been driven recently. That girl and man I ran into yesterday morning mentioned they fled Malvern, and that the military gave the orders to terminate all citizens. Judging by the items inside, they weren’t driven up here by grunts. I’d bet money the girl and her friends took them. There’s no telling how many people were crammed inside those four beasts.”

“Let’s just keep an eye out for now. Most likely, they are trying to survive, just like the rest of us.”

“Yeah, well, maybe so. Maybe not. I say we don’t take any chances at this point. It’s time to go bury Porterfield’s remains and then get the hell outta here.”

“And go where, exactly?” Everett muttered, immediately regretting the words.

Kevin swung his harsh gaze over to Everett. “I wasn’t talking to you, Berning.”

“Enough. Both of you. Dr. Berning, go and take your shower. Kevin, I’ll help you put Thomas to rest, then you and I are going to have a long chat.”

“You can flap your gums all you want, Kincannon. Doesn’t mean I’ll listen,” Kevin turned and stormed down the hallway. The other men followed in silence.

Dirk waited until they disappeared before addressing Everett. “Again, ignore him. I’ll handle Warton, you just concentrate on a thorough spring cleansing. There’s soap and shampoo in a small bag next to the sink. Use it. Maybe getting rid of the grime will give you a new perspective on the situation. A clean body and mind might unleash some hidden ideas.”

“Ah, if it were only that easy,” Everett grimaced. “We, uh, aren’t going to head back to Dr. Thomas’ place, correct? Not that I enjoy living underground, but we are safer here.”

“We aren’t going anywhere, Doc, until you get a handle on things. Well, I’m going topside with Warton to help with Porterfield, but other than that, we’re hanging here. How long depends upon you and that big brain.”

Dirk walked away, leaving Everett in a stunned funk by the door. Bearings finally back in place, Everett stepped inside the bathroom and headed to the shower.

While shedding his stinky clothes, he went over the entire conversation with Dirk. The weight of the situation bore down on his soul like a ten-ton piece of steel. “No pressure. None at all. Dammit!”

Once under the stinging spray of the hot water, Everett let his thoughts wander over to what he hadn’t told Dirk. He knew the former soldier was a smart man, and guessed it wouldn’t take him long to grasp the enormity of the situation.

Yes, Everett needed to figure out what species of fungi they were dealing with, and obtain more to create an antifungal. However, it would be used as a proactive measure on those who’d yet to contract the disease, or administered to someone immediately after contamination.

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