The Last Five Days: The Complete Novel: A Post-Apocalyptic Thriller (12 page)

"What did Byrd tell you?" Salk asked. His tone was more of a plea.

"Two," Hendricks said.

"OK. OK. Byrd said the virus makes you crave keratin. She said it knows the host is dying, and it does everything possible to survive."

"That's impossible," Fisher said before turning to Salk. "You created a virus that has the cognitive ability to turn its host into a protective shield?"

"How did she know it craves keratin?" Salk asked.

Winston stood in silence as if he didn't hear the question.

Hendricks moved a few steps closer to Salk. "The man asked you a question, Winston. Answer him."

Winston thought for a moment. He couldn't shake Fisher's words.
He's not military
. The revelation that Hendricks, whoever he was, had intentionally infected Black Dog weighed heavy as well. These people were evil. They didn't deserve the answer...but the rest of the world did. Winston had first-hand knowledge of this virus's power. Unleashed on the world, it could very well be the end of mankind. Byrd was right. The virus couldn't leave Black Dog. It made Winston sick to his stomach, but he had to answer the question.

"Something about hypersensitivity. Touch, taste, smell. Byrd said it was a symptom. That's how she knew she craved keratin."

"Congratulations, Bob. You've successfully figured out how to turn people into zombies." Fisher turned back to Hendricks. "Was that your plan? The great war killer. Turn soldiers into the living dead. I'm not the smartest guy here…" Fisher paused. "...Wait. Yes, I am, but even your two grunts…" Fisher pointed at the soldiers who were still locked on Winston. "...have to think that makes the enemy stronger."

"A smart man would shut up," Hendricks said. "You're spilling classified information to the public."

"Classified? You're not military, Tom. You're the head snake looking to get rich from creating the ultimate biological weapon. The world needs to know about you."

"Kill him," Hendricks said.

"Tom, you can't…"

Shots rang out before Salk could finish his sentence. Fisher ran toward Winston, breaking the taped barrier. A bullet pierced his hazmat suit, hitting his right side. He fell toward Winston.

"Kill the civilian too," Hendricks said. "You have all you need. Right, Salk?"

Through the commotion, no one saw Melanie step out from behind a tree. She aimed the Colt and tried to steady her hand. She fired in the direction of the soldiers. The bullet ricocheted off a tank and struck the soldier to the right of Salk. Hendricks crouched and slithered behind a tank, just like a snake. Melanie took aim at the one soldier standing and fired. The bullet missed, but was close enough to cause him to drop his weapon and take cover.

"Get out of there, Winston," Melanie shouted, taking cover behind the trees.

Winston held on to Fisher and pulled him into a ditch just off the road.

"Get off your knees, soldier," Hendricks said, getting to his feet. "Do not let them escape."

"Tom, listen to yourself. This isn't what this project was about. It was about sustaining peace, not annihilating it," Salk said, stepping between the soldier and Winston and Fisher.

Hendricks laughed. "Don't hand me that bullshit. You've known all along what this was about. Peace didn't write you a seven-figure check that you cashed."

While Salk and Hendricks argued, Winston dragged the 300-pound Fisher down the ravine until coming to a row of trees that would add cover.

"How bad are you hit?" Winston asked.

"I can't tell through this suit."

Melanie ran up, startling both of the men.

"Did you see that?" She froze when she noticed the blood pooling near Winston. "Did you get shot?"

"It's not my blood."

"I'm the unlucky one," Fisher said.

"Get out of the way, Salk. I cannot let them escape."

"They have nowhere to go, Tom. Just let them leave."

Hendricks pulled a pistol from his side and pointed it at Salk's head. "Move. I'm not going to ask again."

"You're not going to kill me. You need me."

Hendricks lunged at Salk, knocking him to the asphalt. He turned to the soldier. "Go find them. Eliminate them."

"But, sir, if I go into the hot zone, I can't come back."

Hendricks didn't say a word. He aimed his pistol at the soldier and pulled the trigger. "There is no room for cowards in ARMA." He walked to the caution tape. "Take comfort in this small victory, Winston. In the end, Judas is as shit-scaring as advertised. There will be no survivors. In case that isn't clear enough, I'm talking about you and Pistol Annie." Hendricks turned away and extended his hand to Salk. "Come on, Bob. We have some celebrating to do. We just ended war and became the richest men in the world at the same time."

Salk pushed Hendricks’s hand away and got to his feet.

* * *

"
A
m I going to live
?" Fisher asked.

Winston took a seat across from Fisher in his favorite recliner. "You're the doctor. You tell me."

"It's a little more than a flesh wound, but it's through and through and no major organs were hit. So, if infection doesn't get me, maybe I'll make it."

"If infection gets you, you won't die." Winston smiled and sipped water. "But I'll have to kill you."

Melanie handed Fisher a bottle of water and sat on the floor next to Winston. A scratching followed by a loud knock robbed Fisher's attention.

"That's Marianna," Melanie said.

"My wife," Winston said. "She's...well...she's sick."

Fisher tried to sit up, but the pain was too much.

"It's OK. She's locked up," Winston said.

Fisher eased back onto the couch. "Neither of you are infected?"

"Nope," Melanie said.

"Believe me, you would know if we were infected," Winston said. "What's your part in this shitshow?"

"I'm just the janitor brought in to clean up the shit. Actually, there were three of us. My specialty is parasitology. Jones is one of the leading virologists in the world. He's an asshole, but not a bad guy. And Richie, that kid knows everything there is to know about microbes. If Hendricks really had intentions of a cure, we were the ones to find it. But I highly doubt he gives a damn about a cure. This virus turned out exactly like he hoped."

"They really intentionally infected Black Dog?" Winston asked.

"Yeah. I heard Hendricks and Salk talking about it. Something about two fishermen."

"Winston, did you know the fishermen?" Melanie asked. "We know everyone here. I didn't know them."

Winston thought. He didn't know them either. The paper portrayed them as outsiders in town just for the day to catch trout. Black Dog was known for brown trout. At the time, it didn't seem strange. By the time it seemed strange, there were much weirder things happening, like the two dead fishermen coming back to life and murdering Arnie Horwitz.

"No. I couldn't tell you their names if my life depended on it." Winston laughed.

"Why would they do this?" Melanie asked.

"Power. Greed. Fame. Small dick syndrome." Fisher paused to sip water. "I met with Hendricks years ago about the project. I didn't know his true intentions. I just knew he was bullshitting me about it being an Ebola project. Salk, well, Bob is smart. He isn't as smart as Jones, Richie, and me. The human ego is a fragile thing."

"Why not test this on terrorists? They deserve to be lab rats," Winston said.

"My guess is Hendricks can't control this in the Middle East."

"He can't control it here," Melanie said.

"He thought he could. Get a few people sick on the water, watch them tear each other apart, and call it a day."

"That's insane," Melanie said.

"There's nothing sane about manufacturing a virus that turns friends, family, and allies against each other. It's ludicrous," Fisher said.

"It's fucking stupid," Winston said.

Fisher nodded.

Winston picked up a pack of cigarettes from the table next to his chair. "I'm gonna grab a smoke."

"I'll join you." Melanie looked at Fisher. "Get some rest."

Winston held the front door open as Melanie passed him. He checked to make sure the Colt was in his holster and shut the door. Melanie planted a butt cheek on the porch railing and extended her hand. Winston gave her a cigarette.

"You believe him?" Melanie asked, balancing the cigarette between her lips.

"He seems sincere. I think he is as stunned as we are." Winston lit his cigarette and handed the lighter to Melanie.

"I can't believe those assholes did this to us."

"I can't believe how good this cigarette is," Winston said.

Melanie smiled and took another puff. "They'll be the death of you."

Winston smiled. "Everything will kill you these days."

"Hey, at least we know our government isn't holding us prisoners."

"It isn't exactly trying to free us either. You father couldn't do anything to get us out?"

Melanie puffed again. "Last time I talked to him, he said he was trying."

"Hendricks is the guard, but the government is the warden."

"I guess. So, what now?"

Winston eyed the sun dipping below tall pines that lined Black Dog Lake. He smiled. "Now we celebrate surviving another day. I would suggest a steak, but we're probably going to have to settle for cold canned soup."

Melanie hopped off the porch rail and moved beside Winston.

"What is it?"

Melanie pointed to a man stumbling down the middle of street. He had the swagger of a drunk, but Melanie knew the truth. The man was sick.

"Looks like Earl Conway," Winston said.

Melanie's sudden movement caught Earl's attention. He started toward the porch in a slow, steady, zigzagged march.

"Are you going to shoot him?" Melanie asked.

Winston stood up and took the Colt from the holster. "Looks like I'm going to have to." He walked to the top step of the porch. "How's it going, Earl?"

Earl's sped up his pace when he hit Winston's walkway. Almost in a sprint, he darted toward Winston, who aimed the Colt and fired. The bullet exploded the side of Earl's face. He fell to his knees and then crumbled on his side in Winston's front yard.

"Sorry to hear you had a bad day, Earl. Tomorrow will be better." Winston inhaled and blew a smoke ring into the air. The slight breeze tugged it in different directions. "Hendricks said no survivors." Winston inhaled again and blew another smoke ring. It suffered the same fate as the first. Winston smiled. "'No survivors' means you die too, Hendricks."

I
nsomnia was
a friend Richie Kincaid didn't need. Sleep was the one thing the wunderkind of science couldn't master. Problems had started when Richie was twelve years old. His twin brother Jason passed away in his sleep. During Jason's autopsy, an undetected heart condition was discovered. Richie was fortunate. He didn't have the condition, but he still feared the Reaper when he slept. He’d watched his brother go to bed seemingly healthy, only to be stolen by death's cold hands. Death's ability to sneak in without a hint of detection was something Richie could never get over. Night sweats became a thing for him around the age of fifteen. Doctors attributed them to nightmares Richie had when he did fall asleep. Richie never divulged the vivid details of the dreams, only basic details. He always saw himself dying. The part he kept to himself was his brother was the one making sure Richie didn't escape death. Seeing yourself die in your dreams was weird enough. There was no way he was adding that his dead brother was death's right-hand man.

The dreams of death stopped when Richie turned eighteen, but insomnia was a scar that Richie knew would be with him the rest of his life. Sleeping in the tent didn't help much. The cot provided little support. While it was fall, the humidity in the tent reminded Richie of a gym sauna. To get to sleep, the conditions had to be perfect. The temperature needed to be sixty-three degrees. Richie read a study that suggested sixty-five degrees was the ideal temperature for a good night's sleep. Not for him. It needed to be cooler. Finding a good pillow was a constant battle. Even when he found one that suited him, the comfort only lasted a week or so, and then the search began again. The small couch pillow and the cot were never going to cut it. Richie hoped he wouldn't have to be in Black Dog long. The lack of comfortable sleep was only a small part of the reason Richie felt uneasy. What Hendricks and Salk did went against everything Richie stood for. Men of science were supposed to help the world, not create something that could destroy it. Richie knew once he stepped foot off the helicopter and saw armed guards that he wasn't going to leave Black Dog without solving the problem. The deceit hadn't sunk it. Hendricks lied about the reason, and he would pay, but now the only thing Richie worried about was saving the townsfolk. He flopped on his right side when the pain in his neck from the shitty pillow became too much.

"Hey, kid, you all right?" Dr. James Jones said while eying the creases in the top of the tent.

"This isn't exactly the Marriott," Richie said.

"Hell, this is barely above camping in Guinea."

"On the bright side, we don't have to worry about Ebola."

Jones laughed. "Kid, this shit Salk drummed up could be worse than Ebola."

Richie sat up and ran his hand through his hair. Soaking wet. He stretched and craned his neck. "Where's Mark?" he asked, noticing the empty cot across the tent.

"Probably beat us to breakfast. You know he needs sustenance."

"Doesn't look like he slept here last night."

"Why do you say that? ‘Cause the cot is still in one piece?"

"Why do you give Mark so much crap?"

Jones sat up and laughed again. "It makes his day."

General Hendricks entered the tent, putting an end to their conversation. "Good morning, gentlemen. I take it you're well rested?"

"Feel just like an innocent man thrown into the slammer for a crime I didn't commit. How about you, kid?" Jones asked.

Hendricks smiled. "You're not in jail, James. You're going to make history today."

"I make history every day, Tom. Have you not read my biography?" Jones slipped on a pair of polka dot socks.

"Where's Mark?" Richie asked again, hoping for a better answer than breakfast.

"Fisher wasn't on board. I sent him away." Hendricks tone was dull, no emotion.

Salk walked into the tent and stood behind Hendricks.

"Bob will debrief you on what happened yesterday." Hendricks paused to look at his watch. "Time is not on our side. We must make real progress today."

"What about breakfast?" Jones asked.

"No time for that. Grab an apple on your way to the lab." Hendricks smiled and placed a hand on Salk's shoulder. "Good luck today, my friend." The words held a fake sincerity that made Salk cringe.

"Friend?" Jones laughed. "Tom, you wouldn't know the definition of friend if James Taylor sang it to you."

Hendricks smiled. "Exert half the energy into this project that you do into your jokes and we will be out of here by tomorrow."

Richie waited for Hendricks to leave. "All right, Bob, what gives? Where's Mark?"

Salk didn't answer. Instead, he pointed to a corner in the ceiling of the tent. He mouthed the word "bug" and motioned for Richie and Jones to follow him. Once outside and away from the two soldiers guarding the tent, Salk said, "Tom's a madman. I'm really sorry he involved you."

"Don't act like you didn't have anything to do with it," Jones said.

"I didn't want you here."

"You didn't want us to see how low you've stooped," Richie said.

Salk stopped walking. "Tom had Mark shot."

Richie and Jones froze behind Salk.

"Is he dead?" Richie asked.

"I hope not. He's in the town with someone who knows how the virus operates. We have to figure something out before Tom kills us all."

"I'm not going to help Tom. That bastard deserves everything he gets for this." Jones paused. "You do too, Bob. I can't believe..."

Salk interrupted Jones. "Personal feelings aside, there is no other option. If we do not find a cure for this, it becomes an epidemic. It will end civilization." Salk swiped a key over a lock and the door to the mobile lab opened. "We can talk freely in here; there are no bugs. Hendricks is only worried about you two."

"Don't you think you should have developed a cure before you tested it?" Jones said.

"It's too late for that now." Richie walked over to a laptop and powered it up. "Start from the beginning, Bob."

Salk took a seat next to another laptop. He clicked on a folder and two documents loaded. One was labeled Test A and the other was Test B. "Test A was Ron Walters. Test B was his identical twin Johnny."

Jones sat beside Salk. "And they agreed to the trial?"

Salk winced. "Not technically. They agreed to a trial."

"Unbelievable," Richie said. "You lied to them?"

"No way in hell they would have done it otherwise, kid," Jones said. "And you shouldn't be surprised. He's been lying to us since we stepped off the plane. It's time for honesty, Bob."

Salk clicked on the document labeled Test A. "I am being honest with you. Originally, we injected Test Subject A with Judas."

"He had a name, Bob. Ron Walters. Call him by his name. You need to understand this wasn't just some lab experiment. You killed people," Jones said.

Salk sighed. "Ron Walters failed to present any symptoms from Judas. We inoculated Test Sub... Johnny Walters with Judas. We upped his levels. Johnny presented symptoms that mimicked a common cold but failed to show aggression against Ron."

Richie slammed the laptop in front of him shut. "You tried to turn brother against brother."

"We had to test Judas," Salk said.

"And you thought pitting brother against brother, better yet, identical twins was the best way to do that?" Jones asked.

"Identical twins have a strong bond. We felt if Judas could get them to turn on each other, it would definitely work against our enemies."

"You treated those men like lab animals," Richie said.

"They signed up for this," Salk said. His tone was firm.

"Why did you choose this place for your doomsday experiment?" Jones asked.

"Hendricks thought if we did it in a small town, we could control it if it didn't go as planned. Black Dog has a population of less than five hundred and the lake provided an isolated area."

"So you shot the brothers up with your Frankenstein drug and sent them fishing on the goddamn lake?" Jones asked.

Salk didn't answer immediately. There was no good way to answer
. Just tell the truth
, he thought. "They didn't know they were infected. We told them the shots were an antiviral to prep them for the trial in the coming weeks. They liked fishing. We told them the fishing trip was a perk of the trial. The truth was the trip was to quarantine them."

"You're a real shithead, Bob."

"Why not just quarantine them in a sealed observation lab?" Richie asked. "Why expose this town to the virus?"

"Fear of Judas. It's highly potent. Hendricks figured that on the open lake, we could monitor Judas and if things got out of hand, there would be little publicity."

"I take it back; you're a chickenshit," Jones said.

"You did it in Black Dog so you could walk away with no blood on your hands if it failed, right?" Richie asked.

Salk closed the laptop and walked away.

* * *

T
he kick jarred Winston
. He struggled to open his eyes. Caffeine withdrawal made him hazy, incoherent, and angry. A film of sleep encased his mind, making it nearly impossible to focus. Winston couldn't help but think of Marianna. For him, the daze would pass when he wiped his eyes. For his wife, vision through cloudy decay was the new norm. Hunger gnawed at Winston, but it was nothing compared to the famine consuming Marianna. Winston had a tough decision to make. Would today be the day he said goodbye to his wife?

Winston felt another kick. This one was followed by Melanie screaming. He jumped and flung his body against the back of the couch.

"Don't even try it, fat ass. I've got the goods to stop a water buffalo your size."

Winston shook his head. The fog cleared. Brandon Myers stood with his back to Winston and a shotgun aimed at Dr. Fisher. Winston grabbed the arm of the couch and slowly started to his feet. Something cold against his forehead froze him mid-movement.

"Sit still, asshole."

Kenneth Myers held the barrel of a pistol to Winston's cheek. "Give me a reason, Winston. I never liked you in the first place."

Winston eased back onto the couch. Georgie Howell grabbed a handful of Melanie's hair and brought it to his nose. He inhaled deep as though he was taking the last puff of a cigarette. Georgie let out a soft moan. Melanie tried to pull free, but her movement caused Georgie to wrap more of her hair around his closed fist.

"Smoke and sweat. Such a delightful combination," Georgie said, shoving Melanie's hair under his nose again.

Melanie tried to free herself, but Georgie pressed his weight onto her side, making escape impossible.

Brandon lowered the shotgun and turned to Winston. "What'cha got good, Winston?"

"Forgive me, Brandon. I wasn't expecting visitors. I'm about out of everything."

"I bet this one ate it all?" Brandon poked Fisher with the barrel of the shotgun.

"What do you want, Brandon?" Winston asked.

Brandon lowered the rifle and moved toward Winston. "I want whatever you got."

"There's some spoiled lunch meat in the fridge. You're welcome to that."

Brandon laughed. "Still a smart ass at the end of the world, I see." He placed the barrel of the gun under Winston's chin and lifted his head. "There isn't much need for smart asses these days. You'd be good to remember that." Brandon turned to Kenneth. "Go check out the kitchen."

Brandon and Kenneth Myers had always been bullies, so it was no surprise to Winston the twins were in his house robbing him. But Georgie Howell's actions were a shock. Georgie was the short, stubby shy guy bullies zeroed in on. He would never have the balls to sniff Melanie's hair. Brandon and Kenneth were still bullies. Georgie was different. Winston didn't need a doctor's diagnosis. Georgie was sick.

"You smell so good." Georgie pulled Melanie's hair, causing her to move closer to him. "I could just eat you up."

That's the keratin,
Winston thought
. I have to act fast
. Winston tried to get Fisher's attention, but he was too busy watching Georgie crawl on top of Melanie.

"Get off of her, Georgie," Brandon said. "We are civilized criminals. Rape is not on our rap sheet."

He doesn't want to rape her
, Winston thought.
He wants to eat her. He just doesn't know it yet.

Brandon shoved Fisher's legs to the side and took a seat beside him. "You're not from around here. Damn, you picked the worst time to visit Black Dog."

"I'm a doctor," Fisher said.

"Can you cure this shit going around? I think Georgie might be sick. He usually keeps the rape fantasies to himself."

"There's no cure," Winston said.

"Well, aren't you just the ray of hope? You sick, Winston?" Brandon asked.

Winston didn't answer.

"Are you sick?" Fisher asked.

Brandon laughed. "From what I've seen, Doc, if I was sick, you wouldn't have been around long enough to ask the question."