Blackout

Four

Dr. Abbey’s screening room was originally the Shady Cove Forestry Center’s private movie theater, intended for teaching bored tourists and wide-eyed school groups about safely interacting with the woods. I’ve watched a few old DVDs that Alaric dug out of the room’s back closet. Most of them said “safely interacting with the woods” meant being respectful of the wildlife, and backing away slowly if you saw a bear. Personally, I think “safely interacting with the woods” means carrying a crossbow and a sniper rifle whenever you have to go out alone. I’ll never understand the pre-Rising generation… but sometimes I wish I could. It must have been nice to live in a world that didn’t constantly try to kill you.

The screening room was in disarray when we started crashing with Dr. Abbey. Now, barely a month later, it was as close to state-of-the-art as could be achieved with secondhand parts and cobbled-together wiring. That was Alaric’s doing. I’m sure Dr. Abbey’s people could have handled everything eventually—this wasn’t the first time she’d uprooted her entire lab with little warning—but Maggie got uncomfortable when she didn’t have access to a big-ass screen. So she batted her eyes at our last surviving tech genius, and Alaric, who was probably glad to have something to distract him from his sister’s situation, started flipping switches. The result was something even Buffy might have been proud of, if she hadn’t been, you know, dead.

The room was set up theater style, with gently curved rows of chairs descending toward the hardwood floor. Dr. Abbey was standing in front of the screen with her arms crossed, leaning against the built-in podium.

“Sorry we took so long.” I held up my bowl of popcorn as I descended the steps, shaking it so she could hear the kernels rattle. “You said we could stop for snacks.”

“That’s true; I did. One day you’ll figure out how to tell when I’m serious.” There was no actual rancor in Dr. Abbey’s tone. I stopped being able to really piss her off the day she learned that I couldn’t amplify. I guess there are some advantages to being a human pincushion.

“Did you bring me any?” Maggie was sitting in the middle of the front row. She turned to look over the back of her seat. Her curly brown-and-blonde hair—brown from nature, blonde from decontamination and bleaching—half hid her face. She was one of the only women I knew who managed to make that combination look natural, largely on account of having a Hispanic father, a Caucasian mother, and really good skin.

“Sure.” I started down the steps. Becks and Alaric followed me.

“Hey, Dr. Abbey,” said Becks.

“Hello, Rebecca,” said Dr. Abbey.

“Gimme popcorn,” said Maggie. I leaned over to hand her the bowl. She beamed, blew me a kiss, and started munching.

Out of all of us, Maggie was the one who didn’t have to be here. Alaric, Becks, and I were the ones who broke into the CDC facility in Memphis. While we were there, a man we thought was our ally showed his true colors, and the newest member of our team was killed. Her name was Kelly Connolly. She worked for the CDC, and she wanted to do the right thing more than almost anyone else I knew. The fact that her name will never go up on The Wall is a crime and a sin, and there’s nothing I can do about it. There’s nothing anyone can do about it.

Maggie wasn’t there for any of that. Maggie could have said, “It’s been fun; see you later,” and left the rest of us to carry on without her. I wouldn’t have blamed her. She had a life, one that didn’t involve becoming a fugitive, or sleeping on an army cot in an abandoned park building. When her house was rendered unsafe, she could have just asked her parents to buy her a new one. She was the heir to the Garcia family fortune, possibly the richest blogger in the world, and she had absolutely no reason to be standing by us. But she was standing by us, and that meant she could have all the popcorn she wanted.

Dr. Abbey straightened, taking the remote control from the podium. “If you’re all settled, I’ve got a few things to show you.”

“We’re good,” I said, dropping into a seat.

Behave, said George. You could learn something.

“You mean you could learn something, and explain it to me later,” I said, making only a cursory effort to keep my voice down. The others ignored me. After everything we’ve had to deal with, I guess knowing the boss is crazy isn’t such a big deal anymore. That’s fine by me. I have no particular interest in ever being sane again.

Becks and Alaric took the seats to either side of me. Maggie got up and moved to sit next to Alaric, bringing the popcorn with her. Becks smiled at them a little wistfully. I tried not to let my discomfort show. Becks and I slept together once—just once—before she realized exactly how crazy I really was. I hurt her pretty badly over that. I didn’t mean to, but that doesn’t excuse it, as both she and George were happy to point out. Sometimes I regret the fact that I’m probably never going to have a normal adult relationship with a woman who has a pulse of her own. And then I remember how deep the shit we’re in already is, and I’m just glad I don’t have anyone left for them to take away from me.

“Finally,” said Dr. Abbey, and pointed her remote at the back of the room. The projector came on, filling the screen with an outline of the Florida coast. “Florida,” said Dr. Abbey needlessly. She pressed a button. The image pulled back to show the entire Gulf Coast. A red splash was overlaid across the characteristic shape of Florida itself, covering almost two-thirds of the landmass.

Alaric winced, fingers tightening around a handful of popcorn with an audible crunch. That was the only sound in the screening room. That, and the sound of George swearing in the back of my head, inaudible to anyone but me.

Dr. Abbey gave us a moment to study the image before she said, “This is the most recent map showing the airborne infection following Tropical Storm Fiona. I know of six labs that are currently trying to sequence the genetic structure of the mosquitoes involved.”

“Why?” asked Becks. “What does that matter?”

“This isn’t a new strain of virus, which means it has to be a new strain of mosquito. If we know what species they were derived from, we’ll know what temperature range they can tolerate.”

A voice spoke from the back of the theater: “Derived from?”

“Mr. Gowda. Glad you could join us. And yes, derived from. Surely you don’t think this happened naturally?” Dr. Abbey shook her head. “Mosquitoes can’t spread Kellis-Amberlee because the virus is too large. You can’t make it smaller; it would become unstable. That means you need a larger mosquito if you want an insect vector.”

“Yeah, because who wouldn’t want that,” muttered Becks.

“Who made it?” asked Mahir. I turned in my seat to see him descending the stairs. He was frowning deeply. That was nothing new. I honestly couldn’t remember the last time I’d seen him smile.

“Good question,” said Dr. Abbey. “Now, as I was saying, if we know what species the mosquitoes are derived from, we’ll know what temperature range they can tolerate. If we’re looking at Aedes aegypti—the mosquito responsible for the American yellow fever outbreaks—then we’re dealing with a mosquito confined to warm climates. Like so.” She pressed another button. The image progressed, printing an orange zone on top of the red. “That’s the maximum projected range for Aedes aegypti. They won’t be able to get a foothold on the colder parts of the country, although it’s doubtful we’ll be cleaning them out of the Gulf Coast anytime soon.”

“What are our other options?” asked Mahir.

“We have about a dozen possible candidates, although some are more likely than others. If you want to see the doomsday option, look no farther than Aedes albopictus, the Asian tiger mosquito. It’s been nominated for the title of ‘most invasive species in the world,’ in part because the damn thing can survive anywhere. It sets up housekeeping, and that’s the end of that. Reach for your bug spray and kiss your ass good-bye.” Dr. Abbey clicked her remote again. The image pulled back, showing the entire continental United States. A third band of color appeared around the first two. This one was yellow, and extended almost all the way to the Canadian border. “Good night, North America. Thank you for playing.”

“Isn’t there anything we can do?” asked Maggie.

Becks leaned forward in her seat. “I have a better question. Why are you telling us this? We already knew things were bad. You could have just given us a written report.”

“Because I wanted you to understand exactly how bad things are out there.” Dr. Abbey pressed a different button. The map was replaced by a slideshow of pictures out of the flooded streets of Florida—still flooded, for the most part, even this long after the storm, because no one had been able to get past the ranks of the infected long enough to clear out the drains.

Mobs of blank-eyed, bloody-lipped zombies waded through the dirty water, their arms raised in instinctive fury as they closed ranks on the rare remaining uninfected humans. Their numbers were great enough that they clearly weren’t trying to infect anymore; they had the critical mass the virus always seemed to be striving for. There was nothing left of the people they’d been before the storm touched down. All that remained was a single, undeniable command: feed.

Maggie gasped as a still picture of a young boy with his abdomen ripped completely open flashed across the screen. She twisted and buried her face against Alaric’s shoulder. He raised one hand to stroke her hair, his own eyes never leaving the screen.

This is horrific, said George.

“Yeah,” I whispered. “It is.”

We knew how bad things were—there was no way we could avoid knowing—but the government had been doing a surprisingly good job of suppressing images from the infection zones. Something about the way journalists who tried to sneak into the cordoned areas kept winding up infected, shot, or both was doing a lot to discourage the curious. Most of the pictures that made it out were fuzzy things, shot from a distance or using cameras attached to remote-controlled drones. These pictures weren’t fuzzy. These pictures were crystal clear, and the story they told was brutal.

“Where did you get these?” asked Mahir. He seemed to remember that he should be descending the stairs. He trotted quickly down the last few tiers, settling at the end of our row.

“I have my sources,” said Dr. Abbey. “Most of these were taken in the last week. Since then, the body count has continued rising. We’re looking at a death toll in the millions.”

“I heard a rumor that the government is going to declare Florida officially lost,” said Becks.

“It’s not a rumor. They’re making the announcement next week.” Dr. Abbey pressed another button. The still pictures were replaced with a video, clearly shot by someone with a back-mounted camera as they were running for their life. A mob of infected pursued the unseen filmmaker down the flooded, debris-choked street, and they were gaining. Maggie glanced up, hearing the change in the room. As soon as she saw the screen, she moaned again, and pressed her face back into Alaric’s shoulder.

“They can’t do that,” said Becks.

Yes, they can, said George.

“Yes, they can,” I said. The others looked at me, even Maggie, who raised her head and stared at me with wounded, shell-shocked eyes. “Alaska. Remember? As long as they can prove they’ve made every effort to preserve the greater civilian population, the government is not only allowed to lock down a hazard zone, they’re required.” Shutting down a state would mean proving they’d done it to save the nation. Somehow, I didn’t think that would be all that hard of a sell. Things were too bad, and people were too frightened.

“We have to go to Florida,” said Alaric abruptly. “We need to get Alisa.” He sat up in his seat, almost dislodging Maggie. “The refugee camp is inside the state borders. When they closed Alaska, they didn’t evacuate all the camps.”

Becks, Maggie, and Alaric started talking at once, all of them raising their voices to be heard. Even George got in on the action, although I wasn’t relaying her comments to the others—yet. If they didn’t settle down quickly, I’d probably start.

Mahir beat me to it. “Quiet!” he roared, standing. He walked over to the rest of us, focusing his attention on Alaric. “I’m sorry, Alaric, but there’s no way. Going into Florida would be suicide.”

“I don’t care.” Alaric stood, stepping forward so that he and Mahir were almost nose to nose. Mahir was easily four inches taller. At the moment, that didn’t seem to matter. “Alisa is the last family I have left. I’m not letting them abandon her in a hazard zone.”

“And as your immediate superior, I’m not letting you throw your life away running into a hazard zone.”

“Does he really think that’s going to work?” asked Becks.

“Would you have done it for his sister?” Alaric thrust out his arm, pointing at me. “If it were George in that hazard zone, would you have stopped him? Or would you have been putting on your protective gear and saying it was an honor to die trying to save her?”

“Hey, guys, let’s settle down, okay?” Maggie cast a nervous look in my direction as she stood and tried to push her way between them. “Inciting Shaun to kill us all isn’t anybody’s idea of a good time.”

“I don’t know,” said Dr. Abbey. “It might take care of a few problems. It would definitely cut down on the grocery bills.”

She’s really not fond of helping, is she? asked George.

“No, she’s not,” I replied, and stood. Becks, who was now the only one still sitting, gave me a worried look, like she wasn’t sure whether I was about to try defusing the situation or start punching people. I couldn’t blame her. Before Memphis, I wouldn’t have been sure either, and it wasn’t like I’d been exactly stable since then.

But the one thing I learned in Memphis—the one thing I was sure of now, even if I hadn’t been sure of it before—was that my team was the only thing I had, and if I didn’t want to lose them, I needed to take care of them. Somehow.

“Okay, everybody,” I said. “Settle down.”

“Shaun—” Alaric began.

“You’re part of everybody. So shut up. Mahir? We’re not abandoning Alaric’s sister. We wouldn’t abandon yours, we’re not abandoning his.”

“I don’t have a sister,” said Mahir.

“Yeah, well, join the club. Alaric?” I took a step toward him, letting my anger show in my eyes for a fraction of a second. Alaric paled. I might not be willing to lose my team, but that didn’t mean I was willing to let certain things go. “Calm down. We’ll figure this out. And don’t you ever, ever use George against any of us, ever again. Do I make myself clear?”

Alaric nodded, pushing his glasses back up the bridge of his nose. “Extremely.”

“Good. Thanks for trying to calm things down, Maggie.”

She didn’t say anything. But she smiled wanly, and I knew the comment was appreciated.

Good job, said George.

“Thanks,” I replied. I looked to Dr. Abbey and asked, “Why are you telling us this? It’s like Becks said—you would have just left a note on the refrigerator, if all you wanted to do was make us aware that things are shitty. Everyone knows things are shitty. This isn’t news.”

“Not that it’s stopping ‘everything in Florida is shitty’ from dominating the news cycles right now,” said Becks. “What impresses me is the way it’s dominating them without most people actually knowing anything.”

“Welcome to the modern media world,” said Alaric.

Dr. Abbey had been waiting while we got the last of the nervous chatter out of the way. Not saying a word—not yet—she pressed a button on her remote. The video froze and vanished, replaced by an atlas-style road map. It could have been anywhere in the world, if not for the label identifying the thickest line as the border between Florida and Alabama. A small red star popped up on the Florida side of the line.

“The Ferry Pass Refugee Center,” said Dr. Abbey serenely. She’d been setting us up for this moment. I would have been impressed, if I hadn’t wanted to punch her. “The middle school has been turned into a holding area for people who were evacuated from the primary outbreak zones before evacuations ceased.”

“You know where Alisa is?” Alaric’s voice was suddenly small. We’d been getting updates from his sister since she was transferred to the camp, but she’d never been able to tell us where that camp was located. Alaric thought it was because things were too hectic, and the rest of us were willing to let him keep thinking that until we had something better to tell him. Because in my experience, when people are kept isolated “for their own safety” and not told where they are, those people are probably never going to be seen or heard from again.

“Camps were established in Florida, Georgia, and Alabama after Tropical Storm Fiona hit. People were assigned to them supposedly at random, although the Florida camps received a higher than average percentage of the poor, children without surviving parents, and journalists who’d been arrested inside the quarantine zone. The Georgia camps were evacuated last week. They’re evacuating the Alabama camps tomorrow.”

“And the Florida camps?” asked Mahir.

“Are considered a lower priority, due to the chance that they’ve already been contaminated. Luck of the draw, I suppose.” Her tone was blackly amused, like it was that or start breaking things. “One more tragedy for a summer already packed chock-full of tragedies.”

“They can’t do this,” said Becks.

“It’s already done. The only question is whether they’re going to get caught, and so far, the answer’s been ‘no.’ Things are chaotic. No one knows exactly what’s going on, and the people carrying out the orders aren’t the ones giving them. As long as no one ever gives the order that says ‘let those people die, they don’t matter,’ nothing illegal is being done.” A small, bitter smile twisted the edges of Dr. Abbey’s lips. “Trust me. I’m a scientist. We know all about the art of skirting ethics.”

“We have to go to Florida,” said Alaric. He grabbed my sleeve, eyes wild. “We have to! They’re going to let her die! Shaun, you have to help me; you can’t let my sister die!”

He’s right; you can’t, said George. You can’t go to Florida, either. So what are you going to do?

The answer was obvious, at least to me. I gave Alaric’s hand a reassuring pat before removing it from my sleeve, folding my arms, and focusing on Dr. Abbey. “What do you want us to do?”

She lifted her eyebrows. “What do you mean?”

“You made a big production out of telling us things suck in Florida. We knew things sucked. You just wanted us to really believe it. So you’ve got us. We believe.” I let my smile mirror hers. “It’s classic media manipulation. Present the facts in the scariest way possible, and wait for your audience to sell their souls for whatever you think they need.”

“And what could I possibly have that you would need?”

“Beyond the whole ‘shelter and hiding us’ thing, which we already have, you know where Alaric’s sister is. That means you know someone who’s involved with the camps in Florida. Can you get her out?”

Alaric’s eyes widened, and he focused on Dr. Abbey with new hope. “Is that why you told us all this? Can you get Alisa out of Florida?”

“It’s possible,” said Dr. Abbey, putting her remote back on the podium. “I could pull a few strings.”

“Thought so.” I looked at her appraisingly. “Now I know you don’t want to cut me open, because I’m a better test subject alive than I’d be dead. And I know you don’t want to kick us out for basically the same reason. So what do you want?”

“I do want you to leave, actually. I just don’t want you to stay gone.” Dr. Abbey shook her head. “Remember what I said about the mosquitoes?”

“Which part?” asked Maggie. “The scary part, the really scary part, the legitimately terrifying part, or the part that makes suicide sound like an awesome way to spend an evening?”

“That last one, probably. As I said before, there are labs working to sequence the genetic code of the mosquitoes. But they’re working with inherently damaged data, because they’re working with dead specimens.”

Becks stared at her. “You want us to go out and catch mosquitoes for you?”

“Not all of you. Just him.” Dr. Abbey pointed at me. “If you can get into one of the infection zones and catch some live specimens, we may be able to determine their base species��or at least make a better, more educated guess—without needing to wait for the gene sequencers to finish running. Plus, we can study their behavioral patterns, maybe come up with ways to avoid being bitten.”

“This is all assuming I survive the bug hunt,” I said dryly.

“You’ve survived everything else you’ve run up against, even when there’s no way you should have. I’m willing to take the chance.” Dr. Abbey sighed, raking her brown and bleach-yellow curls back with one hand. “Look. I realize this isn’t exactly the nicest thing I’ve ever done to you people.”

“You’re a mad scientist,” said Maggie, in what may well have been intended as a reassuring tone. “We don’t expect you to be nice. We just go to bed every night hoping you won’t mutate us before we wake up.”

Dr. Abbey blinked at her. “That’s… almost sweet. In a disturbing sort of a way.”

“Maggie’s good at sweet-but-disturbing,” said Mahir. “Are you genuinely telling us you have the capacity to extract Alaric’s sister from danger, and will not do so unless we agree to your request?”

“I’m telling you I have the capacity to try.” Dr. Abbey shook her head. “Please don’t misunderstand what I’m offering here. I can’t guarantee anything. The mosquitoes haven’t reached Ferry Pass, but that doesn’t mean they won’t. It also doesn’t mean there won’t be another form of outbreak before we can get there. All I’m offering is a chance, and yes, sometimes, chances have to be paid for.”

Alaric gave me a pleading look. The others followed suit, even Dr. Abbey, all looking at me with varying degrees of hope, or reluctance, or resignation. In that instant, I knew that what came next was entirely my decision. Maybe I was the crazy one, maybe I was the one who felt like he had nothing left to lose, but I was also their leader, and the only one my team had left. They needed someone to tell them what to do. Even Mahir, for all that half the time it seemed like he was the one who was actually in charge, needed me to be the one to pull the trigger.

“I didn’t sign up for this shit,” I muttered, as quietly as I could.

Good thing you’re such a natural, then, isn’t it?

I managed to bite back my laughter before it could escape. The team might be used to me talking to myself, but that didn’t mean they’d forgive me for laughing at a time like this. I turned my laugh into a smile, calling up all the old tricks I’d been forced to learn back when I was a working Irwin and needed to smile despite pain, or terror, or just plain not wanting to be the dancing monkey for a little while.

“You know we can’t all go, right, Doc?” I asked.

Dr. Abbey nodded. “I know.”

“Alisa’s going to need ID, papers, everything. There’s no way she can use her real name. It wouldn’t hurt for the rest of us to have a fallback plan, either. I want to send Mahir and Maggie up the coast. There’s an ID fixer there who comes pretty highly recommended.”

“The Monkey,” said Alaric.

“I’ve heard of him. He’s supposedly the best, and things are going to get worse before they get better,” said Dr. Abbey, apparently unperturbed by my desire to split the team. “I’m even willing to supply an unmarked car, to help them get there.”

“And someone’s staying with you, to coordinate.”

“I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

“I’m going with you,” Becks said, stepping up next to me before Alaric could speak. She raised a warning finger in his direction. “Don’t argue. You aren’t good at fieldwork, you don’t like being away from your computer, and if Dr. Abbey can get Alisa out of Florida, your sister will want to know that you’re safe. We won’t be.”

Alaric deflated slightly, looking ashamed. I couldn’t blame him. He was clearly relieved not to be the one going, and just as clearly felt like he should have insisted on it.

“Hey,” I said. He didn’t look at me. “Hey.”

This time Alaric’s attention swung my way. “What?”

“Becks is right. Alisa needs you more than we do. Stay with Dr. Abbey. Keep the crazy science lady happy, or at least non-homicidal. We’ll be back as soon as we can. Okay?”

For a moment, I didn’t think Alaric was going to give in. Finally, he nodded. “Okay,” he said. “If that’s the best way.”

“It is.” I looked to Dr. Abbey. “Well? What are we waiting for? Let’s get this show on the road.”

She smiled. “I thought you’d never ask.”