Impetus (13 page)

The group appeared to be in agreement. A few nods and agreeing glances were thrown his way.
However, the world Mick lived in had just dramatically changed. Somewhere there lived and worked a group of people with some semblance of the life he so dearly missed. Maybe there was hope yet.

CHAPTER
14
 

When King left unexpectedly, Solomon decided to use the opportunity to go down to the lower level and see Ms. Stella. He wished he had food to bring her. If only King hadn’t shown up at the most inopportune instant, he would have had enough time to gather from the storage at the yellow house. Bring Ms. Stella back anything in terms of sustenance, something she desperately needed. Her frail frame withered more each time he saw her. He did not know how much longer she could hold out.

The next best thing he could think of was water.
That he could bring her. He gathered the drops of water left in the heathens’ cups for weeks when he was forced to clean their mess. Painstakingly, drop by drop, he filled the cup that he hid within a small dark hole in the corner of the main room. What the disgusting animals left behind was probably closer to sewage than water. But it was the best that Solomon could do. And it was something she needed. He fished all the loose particles that he could from the gathered drops of water, which happened to fill the cup about halfway. He then brought it carefully down to Ms. Stella.

“
M-Ms. Stella,” Solomon whispered as he walked down the stairs. Her back was still pressed against the cold metal bars that held her captive.

She turned her head slowly to face him.
“Solomon, my dear.” Her smile was not enough to hide the pain that tore at her body.

“
I b-b-brought you w-water,” he said. “You n-need to d-d-drink.” He held the cup through the bars.

“
Always so thoughtful,” Ms. Stella said before breaking into a small coughing fit. When it was done, she took the cup with her shaking hands. She then took a small sip. “Have you had any, my dear?”

Solomon shook his head. He would get water when he needed to. His concern was not
for his health, but for hers.

“
Please. Solomon. You must take care of yourself.”

“
N-n-no, M-Ms. Stella. I’m f-fine.”

She looked back at him with disapproval
on her face. He knew the look. He realized that it wasn’t that she disapproved of him or his actions. Rather, she disapproved of how it never occurred to him that he needed to sustain himself, as well. He used to do the same thing when he was a teenager living in her care. Ms. Stella had very little money. What she did have was devoted to the children she cared so deeply for. As such, dinner was never anything to speak of. But it was enough. More so than he had ever been accustomed to.

Solomon
had always eaten last. That had been his own doing. He’d put his fellow orphans ahead of himself, never deeming himself worthy of more. Kids were kids, though. And not one of them had ever taken the time to notice his actions. But Ms. Stella had. She would sneak him extra when she could. She’d told him it was because of his selflessness and that his personal qualities would take him places someday. He was certain now that she did not intend for that place to be in an abandoned police station run by a group of lunatics.

Ms. Stella took another sip and then placed the cup down on the dirty floor. She looked lovingly into Solomon
’s eyes. “I’ll ask you again, my dear. Please leave this place. Go and never come back. You still have your entire life ahead of you.”

Solomon shook his head angrily.
“I w-w-will never l-l-leave you.”

“
You must, Solomon. You are a fighter. A survivor. These creatures do not deserve to be in your company.” Ms. Stella started to hack again, this time harder, to the point where it was difficult for her to catch her breath.

Solomon reached in through the bars and rubbed her back through her thin shirt until the coughing fit
passed. Her back was more bone than skin now. Her spine jutted from beneath it like a tiny mountain range on a dying stretch of land.

She cleared her throat
and sipped more water. “Is he still bothering you, Solomon?”

Solomon looked away. Ms. Stella was referring to Clyde. It was one thing to allow the beatings to go on each day. It was another to remember how it u
sed to be. The memories made Clyde’s present acts of violence all the more painful.

Ms. Stella reached through the bars and put her delicate hand on top of Solomon
’s, like a withering rose petal on steadfast rock. “I’m so sorry, my dear. If I had known he would become such a monster, I never would have taken him in with all of us.”

Solomon had
had a different relationship with Clyde at one time. A good one at that. Shortly after meeting each other, they’d become inseparable. He had been Solomon’s first true friend. Clyde had made Solomon feel normal during those first few years together. He’d never looked at him like he was any different than the other kids. He’d stick up for him when someone stepped over the line. They had played ball together, chased each other for tag, laughed at the same stupid jokes. Then something inside Clyde had changed, almost overnight it seemed. He’d become darker and more of a recluse. He had pushed Solomon away, along with the other children and eventually Ms. Stella. It got so bad that Ms. Stella had considered removing him from the house as he began to affect all those around him.

Ms. Stella
had been certain that he was the one that stole their grocery money those weeks it went missing. And Solomon had seen him on more than one occasion talking to some of the local drug dealers that hid in the darker alleyways in the neighborhood. Then, close to two years after Impact, when the world teetered on its collapse, Clyde’s father had come to get him. That man was King, although he had not yet anointed himself. Soon after, all within the orphanage realized that the meteorites were not the worst things that could happen to them. And when Ms. Stella had refused to abide by their delusional orders, she had been tortured and imprisoned. They’d threatened Solomon, promised that if he were to get out of line, she would pay the price.

Ms. Stella coughed again. She
lowered herself to her side and curled into a ball. She was out of reach of Solomon now, too far into the cell. He felt as hopeless as always. Another minute went by before she was able to regain her composure, pushing herself back upright in exhaustion.

“
Y-you’re g-g-get-t-ting w-worse,” Solomon said.

Ms. Stella closed her eyes and took a cleansing breath.
“Don’t you worry about me, my dear. I’ve been through worse than this.”

T
hat was a lie, words meant to put Solomon’s mind at ease. He knew that. He watched as the light in her eyes faded more each day. She would not be around much longer. And when that happened, he would be alone again. Alone in a world that seemed to hate him even more than before. It made him angry to a point where he thought again about trying to steal the key from around Clyde’s neck, run down here, and free Ms. Stella. Then they could both escape this hell together. But where would they go? She was too frail to travel any kind of real distance. And as soon as King found out they had escaped, he would surely hunt them down, if nothing other than to provide sport for his men.

“
Solomon,” Ms. Stella said. “You are a smart man. And certainly smart enough to understand that my time with you is coming to an end.”

“
D-d-don’t s-say th-that.”

She took his hand and grasped it as tightly as her weakening body would allow.
“I wish it weren’t true, my dear. But you need to prepare yourself for that eventuality. That is why I must ask again that you flee now while you can. Run as far away as you can. Never look back. Please, my dear. To see you in pain—” She stopped and began to sob. Tears slowly crawled down her face toward her quivering lips.

Solomon reached through with both of his hands and hugged her the best he could given the hardened steel bars that separated them. He put his head against the cold metal and thought back, very briefly, to a time when she held him and the world
’s problems seemed to melt away. When all it took was her embrace to let him know that at least one person on this giant ball loved him.

He then gently wiped away her tears.

“I m-m-met s-s-s-someone,” Solomon said with his head still against the chilly metal. Up until that point he had forgotten about meeting the man in the alley. His mind had been so occupied with Ms. Stella.

Ms. Stella looked up and stopped
crying. “Who did you meet, Solomon?”

Solomon thought for a moment. The man
’s name was elusive.

Ms. Stella had been in this position before. She knew Solomon had issues with remembering names. So she said,
“Was it Mick?”, using the man’s name King had blurted out in his fit of rage earlier.

Solomon nodded.

“And was he a good man, Solomon?”

Solomon nodded.
“I th-think so. He has k-k-kind eyes.”

It w
as Ms. Stella who had taught Solomon to look into a person’s eyes. She’d told him to see the person’s intentions hidden in their eyes. She’d told him that some people lied, and it was difficult to tell a person’s true intentions simply by their words. She’d told him that words were easily changed to form a lie. And that the only way to know a person’s true worth was to peer inside them. So that is what Solomon did on the few occasions he wasn’t staring down at the ground, averting his eyes so others could not see the pain that dwelled inside him.

“
Where is this man now?” Ms. Stella asked.

Solomon shook his head angrily, remembering that
King had showed up unexpectedly and ruined it all.

“
It’s all right, my dear. I’m happy to hear that you made a friend.”

A friend Solomon feared he would never see again.

CHAPTER 15
 

Sid sat on the lab stool with his eyes firmly pressed against the customized electron microscope. He twisted the focusing knob with his right hand until finding the zoom he was looking for. He then looked up from the eye piece and rubbed his eyes. He needed rest badly. It would be time wasted to try at this point. His mind raced with thoughts and ideas, while his body begged for it all to shut the hell up. And he was stuck in between.

He looked
to the small digital screen to his right that displayed an enlarged view of the microscope’s view. The black stringy virus they referred to as CV-1 slithered all over the petri dish, darting and dashing, sometimes off the screen in its haste to find its next victim.

This lab
was the most outdated of the five they had within The Facility. That was the very reason Sid had chosen it. He knew it was used sparingly, as everyone else wanted the newer equipment that the larger labs held, and therefore the foot traffic would be light. At least that was what he hoped. It’s not like he was trying to hide what he was doing. Not that he really could even if he wanted to. Everything, aside from Phillip’s own lab, was connected to disseminate information faster. But he needed to run these extra tests for his own peace of mind. Tests that were rarely run.

He
’d had trouble focusing since Phillip had insisted on sending out those boxes full of what he paraded around as an inoculation. Sid knew the solution was not an inoculation, as purported in the note, and he had begun to have his doubts that it was a test, either. The blue gel that was sent out in the test kits had been designed by Phillip, tucked away in his private lab next to his office. Phillip had volunteered to create the test gel when the plan began to form. He’d insisted on it. Sid had had no reason to question Phillip’s motives at the time. He was the most experienced man in the building. Who better to formulate the testing serum? But now things were beginning to unravel in Sid’s mind. He’d begun to question things that he had not up until that point.

Sid
had posted a copy of the bulletin that Phillip sent out on the wall in his room. He’d put it there to remind himself of what he was up against, what the unsuspecting people living outside the doors were in for. Some of it was true. There was an airborne virus. And most of the world was most likely infected. But to call the blue gel an inoculation was an outright lie. It was impossible to inoculate against a virus they barely understood. They had gathered bits and pieces of what made it tick, but not enough to do anything more than frustrate them with more questions.

This virus
was like nothing they had encountered before. It spread like a swarm of locusts, pulverizing anything in its path. But at the same time CV-1 seemed patient in a way. Once infected, a human might not experience symptoms for years. The oldest members of the population appeared the most easily infected. And they typically succumbed quicker than most.

The first to
show symptoms of the virus within The Facility, besides the ill-fated Dr. Shaker, had been one of the engineers. Hank Loomis was the next to go. It had been quickly determined after a cell scan that the virus was not isolated to Dr. Shaker’s lab. By the time they’d figured it out, it was already too late.

Sid
removed the dish with the CV-1 virus on it and placed another below the microscope. This sample was from his own body, tissue taken earlier in the week. It showed more healthy cells than infected. He knew that ratio detrimentally changed every day. The black strings encased the blood cells and strangled them until nothing remained but a small dead pit floating in the solution. This was how the virus operated: suffocate a blood cell and move on to the next. The virus was methodical, killing cell after cell until the body began to break down on its own. By the look of his cells, Sid figured he had another four or five months to live.

He
reached to his right and removed a small pipette filled with Phillip’s blue gel. It was the first chance he’d had to get his hands on it. Phillip had not let it out of his sight since its inception. He’d had to stealthily take a single vial while Phillip was off doing his rounds of The Facility.

Again
, he put his eyes to the microscope. He then dropped a bit of the gel onto the dish. The black strings of CV-1 instantly went into an agitated state, as if shocked by electricity. Some spun around in circles; others darted from side to side like rabid animals. He watched in horror as the black strands sped up their decimation of the cells. What would have taken ten minutes before, now took less than one. It was then that he understood what Phillip had done.

How could I not have seen this coming?

He began to frantically search for alternatives. While Phillip was misguided in certain aspects of his position, Sid hoped the conclusion he’d come to was not accurate. It couldn’t be. It had to be something else, something he was missing. But then he thought of Dr. Shaker. It was too coincidental that Dr. Shaker’s symptoms had drastically increased seemingly out of the blue. His body had failed at an exponentially quicker rate than they had seen before. It didn’t make sense at the time. Sid had figured it was something genetic in Dr. Shaker’s makeup. Now it made sense. Dr. Shaker built the auto injector prototype for Phillip’s supposed test. He would have needed to test the mechanism with the actual gel to get the flow calibrations correct. The poor fool probably tested it on himself thinking it was harmless. Less than a week later he was dead.

Sid
again looked over at the digital display. The virus had consumed all the blood cells present and had turned on themselves, one frantically trying to wrap the other in its suffocating grasp. The captive one would soon free itself and turn on another.

Sid stood from the lab stool
, light-headed from the realization of what these people were about to inject into themselves and sickened by what Phillip had done.