Edge of Instinct: Rabids Book 1 (42 page)

“The Hybrid formulation can only be used on those who have a family history of cancer. The closer the link to cancer, the more stable the subject is. Usually. There are always exceptions to any rule,” he added gruffly, remembering a few people who had been prime candidates and were put down within days. “Some cancers are more appealin’ than others. It also depends on the subject’s predisposition and personality beforehand.”

“So that’s why they chose you. Because Cajun had cancer,” she surmised. Harley suddenly wondered just how much Tandy had told her about them.

“Right. One of the more aggressive and life threatenin’ forms of cancer. Brain cancer.” He shifted against the counter, the rising memories making his insides itchy. “Doctors did surgery on him in the beginnin’. Took out a tumor the size of a lemon. Said they still didn’t get it all, that it was too dangerous to dig for the rest. Took all the money we had saved up just for that much. We moved up north to participate in some programs they still offered up there for cancer patients, but the meds weren’t without their heavy price tags. Caj and I started workin’ at a mechanic shop to earn a lil extra money. Cajun was sick a lot, so he couldn’t work much. Pops would send us some money as he could. We’d buy meds when money allowed, go without when it didn’t. Needless to say the cancer was winnin’.” Amiel turned to him, silently handing him a plate of pancakes and eggs, the sympathy in her eyes saying what her mouth didn’t. He nodded his thanks, continuing his story between bites.

“Somehow Caj found out about this experimental government program. He still ain’t never told me exactly how, neither.” He grunted in annoyance as his accent flared up a bit under the uncomfortable subject matter. “Anyway, there was some government experiment goin’ on back home that they was lookin’ for volunteers for, and Cajun was a prime candidate. That’s when we met Charleen. She showed up with a whole trail of desperate idiots just like us, waitin’ for their turn to be experimented on. We were the last on the list to hop on the band wagon. That’s how we joined Foundation.” Amiel finished making her food and motioned for him to follow her. She sunk onto the bed, indicating that he should sit in the chair. He was grateful for it, as his limbs were quickly losing their ability to function. Side effects from the Collapse sucked. It wouldn’t be long before his legs and hands started twitching. He hoped it would be minimal this go around, not feeling particularly inclined for more embarrassment.

“What is Foundation exactly?” she asked, lounging cross-legged and taking a drink of her orange juice. He stared distractedly at her throat as it moved the liquid down.

“Foundation is the government extension made for just handlin’ the Hybrid experiment.” He shrugged, hoping she would leave it at that. Her eyes narrowed thoughtfully while munching on another bite. He smirked, wondering how anyone could make something so simple as watching another person eat, enjoyable.

“So, the night you saved me. You said I wouldn’t want anything to do with your job. Were you talking about Foundation?” He nodded silently. “Wait. What happened with Cajun’s cancer?”

“Gone.”

“Gone? But how? I thought the treatments weren’t working?”

“They weren’t.”

“So, you’re saying this Hybrid stuff
cures
cancer?” She gasped, disbelief and wonder warring in her features.

“I suppose it’s not so much gone or cured, as it is…accepted.” Her brow drew down at his explanation. “I guess I should start at the beginnin’. Back when things were still normal, a buncha dweeb scientists created a cure for the common cold. Then it became a miracle cure for just about everythin’ else. Only it wasn’t as much of a miracle drug as they thought. The clinical trials were huge and by the time they found out ‘bout the long term effects, far too many had it in their systems to stop what came next.”

“What were the long term effects?”

“In the beginnin’, people felt the best they ever had their entire life. Stronger, faster, illness was no longer an issue, and they felt nearly invincible. It also gave a sense of sheer euphoria. The chemical makeup of the brain shifted, changed to
accept
the illness that threatened it, rather than fightin’ it. It wasn’t til months later that the negative- and permanent- effects showed. The trial recipients started showin’ signs of aggression, anger, suspicion, and paranoia. And then, they started disappearin’. The lead scientist responsible for findin’ the cure was the first. The public was told that he disappeared; his office and home were found completely wrecked. The general consensus was that someone had kidnapped him in hopes of forcin’ him to make the miracle drug for them to sell on the black market. The miracle drug was put on hold, and they told the public that the drug and all of the research regardin’ it was stolen or destroyed, that they had no way of makin’ more until the lead dweeb was found. What the public didn’t know is that there had been no kidnappin’. The guy had gone completely nutty, tore apart his home and office, and destroyed his own research because of his extreme paranoia that someone was after his work. They had it all on video. Foundation has it now.”

“Wow. I had no idea,” Amiel said, food forgotten in her lap.

“Most people don’t. Things started movin’ fast after that. Turns out that the guy hadn’t destroyed all of the drug after all. What was left of it was hidden away in a secret warehouse, because the scientists on the Miracle Drug team wanted to keep it hidden until they could better understand the implications. The clinical trial participants had all disappeared, the lead scientist had disappeared, and all of their research was destroyed. The information they had gathered previously pointed to the fact that somethin’ uncontrollable and dangerous was resultin’ from the drug use. The brain changed its chemical makeup to accept the illnesses and strengthen the body rather than destroy it, sure. But the problem laid in the fact that it didn’t
stop
changin’. It evolved continually, focusin’ on the aggressive, primal sections of the brain, expandin’ them. And once that chemical makeup was changed, there was no changin’ it back. There was no cure for the cure. So they locked it away, neither the scientists or the financial backers eager to pick the project up again.”

“Gosh.”

“Yep.”

“So, the trial people…they were the first Rabids.”

“Sure were. Spread of infection began with them. No one knew of the danger then. Spouses, children, friends, all of ‘em in immediate contact with the trial subjects and the infection. Intimacy, sharin’ a drink, cleanin’ up a cut or scrape, sharin’ a handshake after a sneeze or paper cut. It spread from person to person fairly quickly, but quietly. No one knew what to expect, no one knew there was a problem. People would become infected, feel wonderful for the first few months, and then it would hit ‘em. If they lasted that long. There was an uprisin’ in gruesome murders those first few months after the drug disappeared. Cannibalism became a common factor in those murders. It didn’t help that a month after the drug went into storage, the warehouse was cleaned out. The scientists swear it was a mass robbery, that people discovered where it was stored, stole it, and were now sellin’ it on the black. However, Foundation has suspicions that the scientists turned a blind eye when the drugs were stolen, maybe even orchestrated the theft themselves. And of course, the public never knew, ‘cause as far as they were concerned, the drug had been destroyed by the lead scientist.”

“Why would they do that?” she asked, anger clearly written on her face. He shrugged.

“They didn’t want to have to bother with the responsibility of the drug’s side effects. This way they could be absolved of all responsibility, wash their hands of it. Or so they thought. But when it went out on the street illegally, the infection spread like wild fire. They sold it on the black under the name ‘Salt”, and people went wild over it.

“Imagine it. Prostitutes with STD’s grabbin’ the drug off the black and continuin’ on with their occupation thinkin’ they were cured. Every person they were in contact with, it spread. Athletes used it to enhance their abilities. Anyone who had an illness that they couldn’t afford hospital bills to treat, or life threatenin’ diseases, they were clawin’ after the leaked miracle drug on the black market. All it takes is one drop and the infection’s in. And of course the media couldn’t keep up with the amount of news stories that poured in each day, much less worry about findin’ the source.” He could see her imagining the thousands of possible scenarios and the numbers piling up from each.

“Wow. Just wow.” He nodded, sitting back as she digested the new information. She now knew a whole lot more than most people did.

“So that explains how Rabids came to be. But what about Hybrids? You said your brother’s fiancé was created as a weapon in the War?”

“Charleen was the first. After the Rabid war had been goin’ on for years, scientists knew they had to do somethin’ to try and reverse the effects or there wouldn’t be anythin’ left of humanity. They had massive teams workin’ endlessly to find the cure. Eventually two scientists got together, formulatin’ a plan in secret, one that none of their colleagues knew about. The scientific community’s serums had never worked, breakin’ down before they were hours old, failin’ to block the infection. The two scientists came up with their own serum, mixed it with the infection, and put it in a test tube baby created from their combined genetics.”

“What?” Her eyes widened, rounding out in horror.

“The two of them had figured out the connection to cancer then, and both of them had close relations with cancer themselves, makin’ them prime candidates for the creation of the test tube baby. The plan was to grow these test tube babies with the serum, the combination formin’ an alliance that would negate the bad with the good, in a body that could handle the bondin’.”

“That’s horrible.”

“It wasn’t to them. It meant savin’ the lives of millions, and goin’ down in history as the two people who literally saved the world.”

“What happened next.” He could tell she didn’t agree with their views, but was pushing her anger aside so she could hear the rest of the story. He fought the urge to smile at the stubborn set to her jaw, the fire in her eyes.

“It didn’t work. The test tube babies survived longer than the original experiments but when two months along, they failed, bodies breakin’ down. So the woman scientist stepped up the game. She began injectin’ herself with the serum, then implantin’ the babies in her own body.”

“Did it work?”

“No. And she didn’t take it too well. She worked endlessly, never restin’ until she collapsed. The dude decided he was done tryin’ the experimentation, begged her to stop, too. Said she was goin’ mad. She promised she would stop and they let the matter drop. Only she didn’t stop. Since she had an endless supply of his…” He flushed, rubbing his neck. “His, uh,
contributions,
in a nice little ice bank to tap into whenever she needed, she continued her experiments without him. After months of failures, she tried one last desperate attempt. She kept takin’ the serum daily, implanted a perfectly normal Clean embryo in her gut, then when she was four months along she purposely approached a rabid they had contained for testin’.” Amiel’s mouth dropped open.

“She got pregnant, and then infected herself?” He nodded.

“Welcome Charleen to the world.”

“It worked?”

“Pretty shockin’, huh? After infectin’ herself she disappeared, takin’ the research with her. They found her holed up in a cave twelve years later, with Charleen, the first successful Hybrid.”

“That’s amazing. Is she…” She hesitated, twisting a long strand of hair with her fingers. “I mean, obviously Cajun must love her since they are engaged, so she must be pretty…normal, right?” Harley stared at her for a moment before letting out a deep laugh. She flushed, embarrassed.

“She’s ‘bout as normal as y’all could get under those circumstances I guess. She’s, well, she’s Charleen.” He shrugged, as if that answered everything. To him it did, to Amiel it just confused her more. “She had a screwed up childhood,” he supplied. “Well, a screwed up life, really. But I don’t think many people can escape havin’ a screwed up life these days. And she’s got Cajun now, so she’s good.”

“So, Charleen was the first. And they sent her out to find volunteers for more? As horrid as it is, why not just grow more?”

“For one, they didn’t understand all the details of how Sia made it work. She refused to share the details with anyone, still won’t.”

“Charleen’s mom?”

“Yeah. Don’t let her hear you sayin’ that though.” He smirked. “Charleen has a complicated relationship with her mama.” He watched a curious play of emotions slip across Amiel’s face, and he had the feeling that she knew something about mommy issues. He grunted. The world seemed to be full of mommy issues today.

“She’s still sane enough to communicate her research? I thought Rabids were, you know, crazy.”

“The serum worked well enough to keep her sane to a certain degree. She’s still crazier than a bed bug, but she’s not as wild as regular Rabes.”

“Does that make her a Raider?” He paused, unsure if he should acknowledge the existence of Raiders to her or not. He did a mental shrug, figuring there was no reason to deny it when she clearly had some knowledge of them.

“Somethin’ similar, I suppose. Good guess. Though we aren’t really sure where Raiders are croppin’ up from, or the exact details of their DNA yet. Anyways, Raiders are a whole other story, kid. Y’all are gettin’ off the subject train here.”