Kalahari (13 page)

“That’s its Trojan horse,” said Avani. “Lead!” She turned to the rest us, who sat blinking and clueless. “People get lead poisoning because the body mistakes lead for calcium, letting it slip through the immune system. He’s saying this Metalcium stuff works the same way—sneaking into an organism’s system by hiding behind a mask of lead.”

“I sure hope there’s not a quiz on this later,” said Joey, “because I have no idea what’s coming out of your mouth right now.”

“It doesn’t just use lead as camouflage,” said Dr. Monaghan. “It evolved on its own and began to copy DNA from the host organism. It can essentially create inorganic copies of organic cells. It’s like . . . hm, it’s like comparing a clay sculpture of a man to an actual man—but in this case, the clay can sculpt itself.”

“And what on Earth about this is a good thing?” I asked. “
Why
would you create something like that at all?”

“Don’t you see what we could do with it? We cut the tails off mice, gave them an injection of Metalcium—and the tails grew back made of silver and pretty much indestructible. Metalcium heals itself. Cut the metal tail off, it grows back again. Imagine it! Prosthetics is just the tip of the iceberg! Why we—”

“Why here?” I said. He gave me an annoyed look for interrupting his monologue. “Why are you in the middle of the Kalahari?”

His reply was hurried and impatient. “For one, this is a remote location in a country where fewer questions are asked. It’s safer for us, way out here where there are no neighbors. Second, there are large deposits of tungsten below us and since my employer already owns a controlling interest in a few diamond mines in the region, it was easy to use them as a cover operation. We drill for tungsten and the other minerals we need to experiment with, and if anyone asks questions, we show them diamonds from one of the other mines.”

So they really were experimenting illegally. I’d hoped that the government might know what was going on, but if what Dr. Monaghan said was true, then no wonder his “employer” was so desperate to cover up the real purpose behind this place. Their drilling would have been the cause of the fault line we’d stepped on and fallen through.

“But it went wrong,” I prompted.

His expression rearranged into a look of defeat. “About six months ago. The Metalcium began attacking its hosts instead of healing them. It’s like it was
learning
, getting smarter, evolving in a way we’d never dreamed. It healed the wounds, but it didn’t stop there. The Metalcium decided that
all
the organic cells were defective and began killing the original ones and replacing them. It starts with the skin and hair, and then it goes for the brain. At that point, the infected subjects began to go insane. You’ve seen them—the silver animals, part organic, part inorganic. Chimeras, we call them.”

While the rest of us gaped at him with horror, Joey asked, “Wait—you mean, like, a lion with an eagle’s head and a snake’s tail, that, like, breathes fire and crap?”

Avani shook her head. “That’s only in mythology. In biology, a chimera is any organism that’s a blend of different genetic sources or tissues. Dr. Monaghan, why didn’t you stop the research then and there, or look for a cure, or tell the authorities, or—or
something
? Once you saw it turn against its hosts, shouldn’t you have stopped it
before
it got out of hand?”

“I did,” he said flatly. “As difficult as it was, I knew we had to stop. It had to be destroyed—all of it—or we could unleash the greatest plague Earth has ever known. But you must understand, at that point, it was out of my control. The biotech corporation I work for refused to end the project. They wanted us to find a way to control the Metalcium, to explore all of its potential. I could have walked away, sure, but the research would have gone on without me.”

He made a small, pained noise in the back of his throat. “I fought them, I did. They threatened to have me removed from the project, which I didn’t want. Lindy, you see, my assistant . . . she was like a daughter to me. I couldn’t leave her, couldn’t leave the others to face it alone. It was my fault that it ever existed in the first place. I’m not much of a scientist if I don’t take responsibility for my own creations. We took greater precautions. We minimized every risk. . . . But it wasn’t enough.

“Lindy was the first to get infected, and the rest soon followed.” He cast a pained look at the door that held the infected scientists, then dropped his gaze to his hands. “A week ago, we were all fine. Then in the space of a few days . . . Too late.” His voice had dropped to a hollow whisper. “Too late.”

“Dr. Monaghan,” said Sam softly, “could we be infected?”

“Did you touch them?” Dr. Monaghan asked. “Did you touch the animals?”

“No,” I said. “But we were in the room with them.”

“It’s transferred by touch—direct skin-to-skin contact. It seems to only affect mammals—insects and birds and such are immune . . . for now. Who knows what it will evolve into? If you’re infected, you’ll soon know. It starts as an itch, you see. . . .” He began scratching his neck again, and his chin and his cheeks. “An awful, maddening itch all over your body, like a great invisible rash.
Don’t scratch
—that just makes it worse. Don’t scratch, and you can last four, maybe five days. I was doing so well up till now. But the others, Lindy and Ian and Vera, they scratched and they went quickly, silver from head to toe, and at last they went crazy. Completely wild.
Don’t scratch
, I told them. But did they listen? Well, what does it matter now? I’m almost done for. When Abramo and his men get back they’ll just shoot me anyway. God! You don’t know how much I’ve wanted to
scratch
!”

Before our horrified eyes, the skin beneath his nails began to peel off, as if it were a thin mask made of hot wax. Strips and flakes of it hung from his cheekbones, and beneath the gaping tatters, there was a smooth, shiny patina of silvery metal. When he pulled his hand away, his cheek hung in loose strips and strands from his jaw, some of the pieces falling away to the floor. The remaining metal of his cheek was so smooth that I could see my own reflection in it. I recoiled in horror.

Miranda turned away, retching, her hands fumbling on Kase’s chest. We all stared aghast as Dr. Monaghan lowered his hand and stared at me with eyes already tinged with silver around the edges, his left cheek covered with the sheen of Metalcium. Now I knew why he’d looked so pale; his skin was dying, killed by the infection of living metal cells he had created himself. When he scratched, the dead skin came loose and was replaced by a skin of toxic metal.

Bile surged in my throat, but I fought it down.

I held out a hand, keeping a good three feet between us. “Tell us how to help you.”

He shook his head and blinked as if trying to clear his mind. The skin hanging from his face stretched, pulling more off with it. I winced and looked away, my stomach clenching. It was like the face of a living corpse.

“I thought . . . I thought if I could find some way to save them, to find an antidote, but I haven’t got any time. Not now.” He glanced aside as if deeply ashamed. “I couldn’t save them, and now Abramo will come back and kill them. He gave me three days, three days to find a cure, three days to save them and myself, but time is up. It’s day three, and my pathetic attempts . . . Well.” He waved silver-tinged fingers at the counter of vials and computers. “Useless. I found nothing. It would take years to find a cure, if one even exists. I told Abramo we had to burn everything, the infected animals, the ones that escaped, before it spread. But it’s too late. He’s more concerned with covering this up than actually fixing it. He dropped everything here and took off when the lion escaped—I suppose that’s when he found your father instead. It’s only a matter of time before they find him. They can’t afford loose ends.”

I shut my eyes briefly, trying to steady my whirling thoughts.
Dad knows how to survive out here. If anyone can disappear into the bush, it’s him.
But doubt was a crippling poison, and I didn’t know how much longer I could hold out against it.

“We need to get out of here,” said Sam. “If he’s right about his time being up, then they could show up any minute.”

I nodded, but I still had a few lingering questions. I asked hoarsely, “Who are ‘they’?”

He grimaced, and the next thing he said was so soft, I had to strain to hear it.
“Corpus.”

“Is that the company funding your research? The ones who forced you to make Metalcium and now want to destroy everything?”

Dr. Monaghan nodded, glancing around nervously as if they might be listening.

“And they aren’t messing around. They sent their best. He arrived three days ago, after Lindy called to tell them what had happened—that we were infected. Tony Abramo. ‘The Custodian,’ we used to call him, back when I worked at headquarters. Because they always sent him out to clean up the messes.” He made a sound that might have been intended as a laugh, but it came out as more of a choke. “Never imagined he’d come cleaning up after me.”

“How far will he go?” I asked softly, though I feared I already knew the answer. I was still holding out hope that somehow this was all a big misunderstanding, and that my dad would be found safe. “To ‘clean up,’ as you say—what will he do?”

“Whatever it takes,” he said. “If word got out about Metalcium and it was traced back to Corpus, it would destroy the company. They’ve covered up a lot of secrets, but a parasitic life-form spread by touch, for which we have no cure?” He shook his head. “Even Corpus couldn’t weather that.” He laughed hollowly. “I wonder if they’ll name it after me. Monaghan’s monster. The world will turn silver and men will curse my name as they die.”

“Sarah!” Avani said urgently. “We need to get out of here!”

“I know!” I replied, but I couldn’t help turning back to Dr. Monaghan in exasperation. “You can’t just give up! There’s still time to think of a cure!”

“You sound like her,” he said. “You look like her too.”

“Who?” I said sharply. “What are you talking about?”

He coughed and bent over, his head in his hands. “Oh, it hurts! Dear God, it burns!”

“Sarah!” Avani said again. “Let’s
go
!”

“Just one more minute, please! Dr. Monaghan, I need to find my dad! Tell me how I can reach Abramo. Maybe I can make a deal with him—please!”

“You can’t
deal
with Abramo.”

He lifted his face and held out his hands; they were splotchy with silvery patches and sloughed skin. “Help me. . . .”

“I—I don’t know how.”

His eyes roamed feverishly and his teeth began to chatter.

“So cold,” he whispered. “Where is Lindy? I have to get back to work. . . . Deadlines, deadlines . . .”

I stared at him helplessly, torn between pity and anger. Pity, because he was obviously in pain and dying. Anger, because I was certain he could help stop the virus if he really wanted to. Even if he failed, he had to at least keep
trying
.

“Sarah,” Sam said softly, “let’s go. He’s insane. We can’t help him if we can’t even help ourselves. We’ll send someone for him once we’re in Ghansi.”

“Yes,” rasped Dr. Monaghan. “Go. For God’s sake, get out of here. Don’t you see? Someone needs to warn the world. Someone needs to know the true story. I’m out of time, damn it, but you can still make it.” He blinked, his eyes focusing for a moment on me. “If you don’t warn them, millions will die.”

I tried to swallow, my eyes held by his fevered, desperate gaze, but my mouth was as dry as Kalahari sand.

“Go!” Dr. Monaghan roared. He threw open the door, letting the room flood with sunlight—and the sound of a chopping engine. My blood turned to ice.

A helicopter.

Abramo.

We were too late.

“He’s back!” Dr. Monaghan cried.
“Go! Go now!”

W
e darted out of the trailer, bending low, and ran to the building where we’d found the kitchen. Somewhat hidden in its shade, we pressed ourselves against the outer wall and watched as a black, unmarked helicopter set down fifty yards away in the grass, whipping up a maelstrom of sand and sending the vegetation into a frenzy. A small fox sprinted out of the way and blurred past us. A group of men filed out of the chopper, all of them armed. One of them started shouting, giving orders to his companions to begin cleaning out the buildings and piling everything—even the animals in the cages—into one big heap.

“Go back,” I said, turning away from the door. “Into the bush.”

“But the food and water we found—” Avani started.

“No time! They’re coming this way! We have to disappear before they see us.”

I led them back toward the trailer, keeping the building between us and the men. Beyond the trailer was another building, and then the safety of the tall grass. I felt like a springbok trying to elude a pride of hungry lions, my senses on highest alert.

But my caution slowed us down, allowing the men time to spread out. Ahead of me, an armed man stepped out from behind the next building and froze, his long face reminding me of an astonished hartebeest. I winced and let out a strained breath, still crouched low but caught directly in the man’s line of sight. I held up a finger to my lips in a desperate attempt to get him to stay quiet, but it was useless.

“Hey!” he cried out. “It’s the kids! Hey, boss—the kids are here!”

I moved instinctively, focused on the safety of the bush with single-minded determination, in full survival mode. I ran straight at him. His rifle was slung across his back, so I took it he hadn’t expected to find us that easily. He reached over his shoulder for it, but Sam streaked past me and reached him first, catching him in a flying tackle. They both crashed into the sand, the man’s gun sliding off into the grass. I started to reach for it but dropped when I heard bullets zinging around my ears.

The other men had arrived. They were shouting and spreading out, intending to surround us. I yelled for my group to drop and crawl, and they reacted instantly.

“Get to the grass!” I hissed. “Hurry!”

We scrambled the rest of the way into the bush. The tall grass hid us temporarily, but it would be only seconds before the men reached us.

“They’re shooting at us!” Miranda screamed. She was breathing so rapidly that I feared she’d start to hyperventilate. “They’re actually
shooting at us
!”

“Where’s Joey?” Avani called out.

I looked around, taking count—and coming up one short.

“Do we surrender?” Kase asked, his eyes wild. “They wouldn’t just
kill
us. That’s . . . that’s illegal!”

Oh, Kase.

“Split up,” I said. “Go deeper into the bush. Meet up a mile west of here.”

“Which way is west?” asked Kase.

I pointed.

Sam winced as a bullet clipped the grass over his head. “What about Joey?”

“I’ll find him. Just get away from here and wait. If I’m not there in an hour, keep going west. You’ll hit a dirt road—well, more of a track, really. Follow it north to Ghansi. Got it?”

“But—”

“
Go,
” I said, and I rose to a crouch and ran bent over through the grass. The gunfire followed me, thudding into the branches and sand. I kept my arms over my head as if they could somehow ward off the bullets and made a wide swath around the compound.

When the gunfire stopped, I realized the shooters must have lost sight of me. I chanced a look back, popping up from the grass like a meerkat from its hole, and saw no sign of Sam and the others. The Corpus men had spread out and were searching the bush. From what I could tell, they’d left the compound unoccupied for now.

I spotted Joey behind a generator, crouched in a pocket of shadow, where he must have been forced to hide but was now trapped by the men that were moving toward the bush. Keeping low, using the helicopter as partial cover, I tried to figure out a way to divert their attention, giving Joey room to run. But before I could do anything, Joey began to creep out from behind the generator, intending, it seemed, to go the other direction while the men’s backs were turned. But what he couldn’t see was that Abramo was standing just around the corner of the next building, talking on the phone. I immediately recognized him from our camp and wondered when he’d met up with the helicopter. If Joey darted out into the open, Abramo would see him for sure.

“Joey!” I whispered, waving to get his attention, but he didn’t see me. There were at least twenty yards between us, and I didn’t dare call out. I could only watch with dread as he dashed into the open—and right into Abramo’s line of sight.

“Stop!” Abramo ordered, whipping out a sleek handgun from the pocket of his dusty khaki fatigues and directing it at Joey.

Joey froze in midstep and slowly lifted his hands. “Aw,
c’mon
! Don’t I at least get a five-second head start?” Despite his joking tone, he watched Abramo’s gun with frightened eyes.

Keeping his gaze trained on Joey, Abramo muttered something into his phone and then hung up, slipping the device into his pocket. He called to the other men, and they regrouped around Joey, surrounding him like a pride of lions separating a lone wildebeest from his herd.

“Whoa,” said Joey. “I mean, it’s like you guys stepped straight out of a Bruce Willis film. Seriously. Have you thought about doing any movie work? You know, my mom works for a studio. I could totally introduce you—Hey! Easy!” He cursed as one of the men shoved him in the back, forcing him to his knees.

“We lost the others,” said a tall African wearing a pair of cowboy boots. “Want us to spread out, flush them into the open?”

Abramo’s gaze flickered from him to Joey, and then he grunted. “Yes. Get rid of this one first, though.”

I couldn’t just leave Joey there. I was responsible for him, for all of them. And on top of that, I was tired. Tired of running, tired of thirst and hunger, tired of watching the people I cared about get hurt. Stubborn anger washed over me, and I stepped into the open.

“Stop!” I yelled, whipping out the flare gun and aiming at the men. They paused uncertainly, still too far away to see that the weapon didn’t, in fact, shoot bullets. “Let him go! Or I’ll—”

“You’ll what, Sarah?” Abramo asked, spreading his hands. If he was surprised to see me, he was good at hiding it. “Shoot us all at once?”

“How do you know my name?” I demanded. “Where’s my dad?”

Abramo wasn’t brawny or imposing. He looked like he ought to be sitting on some European sidewalk, quietly playing chess with the neighborhood grocer. His calm gray eyes, in wrinkled pockets of tanned skin, were blank as stone as they returned my gaze. Had this man killed my father? I searched his eyes for guilt or innocence and found only blank indifference.

When he made no reply, I whispered, “You killed Theo. You destroyed my home.
What about my dad?
”

“Enough!” Abramo sighed impatiently, cutting me off with a wave of his hand. “Shoot the boy, take the girl. She’ll lead us to the others.”

“No!” I shouted. One of the men lunged toward me, and as I stumbled backward, my feet tangled together and I fell. My finger involuntarily squeezed the trigger of the gun, sending the flare streaking toward my attacker. It missed him by just a hair but startled him enough that I managed to get to my feet and sprint to Joey.

“Don’t shoot!” I cried, standing back to back with him. “Please—”

But they weren’t even looking at us; their eyes were fixed on something behind me, their faces shocked. Joey elbowed me from behind.

“Um . . . Sarah?”

I turned around and saw the door to Dr. Monaghan’s trailer was open. Dr. Monaghan stood in the doorway, looking on the verge of collapse, his face even more silver than it had been minutes ago. But he wasn’t the reason the men around us were now cursing and redirecting their rifles toward the trailer—it was the trio of metal-skinned scientists stumbling toward us, their agonized cries shivering through the air like nails scraping across a chalkboard.

“Run!” Dr. Monaghan cried to Joey and me. “Get out of here!”

We jolted into motion as the men opened fire on the three scientists. I covered my ears to dull the deafening shots. We ran for the bush opposite the trailer, desperate to get away while Dr. Monaghan’s horrific distraction lasted.

“Sarah!” Joey cried out. “Look!”

I lifted my head and gasped. The flare I’d shot had sailed into the tall grass, where it still burned too bright to look at—and hot enough to have caught the surrounding foliage.

A bushfire.

The blaze spread with almost liquid fluidity, sweeping from north to south with the wind and creating a fiery band ahead of us, trapping us inside the compound. Joey shouted and jumped from foot to foot as mice scurried over his shoes in an attempt to outrace the flames.

“Go back,” I said. “We can’t get through it. Everyone else is on the other side of the compound—we can cut through the buildings to catch up to them!”

There was no time to create a firebreak. If there was one thing I’d learned in my years in Africa, it was that you never underestimate the destructive power of a bushfire. All we could do was run.

We turned and ran back toward the compound and the carnage taking place in the clearing between the buildings. The silver scientists were still on their feet, despite the shots the men had fired. As Joey and I skirted the chaotic scene, I couldn’t tear my eyes away. The first scientist reached one of the gunmen and raked her metallic nails across his face, before he shoved her with his rifle, knocking her to the ground. I felt sick as he shot her point-blank. It took several rounds before she lay still at last. Was the Metalcium bullet-resistant? I recalled the shot I’d fired at the lion and how he had seemed unharmed afterward. The other scientists attacked the rest of the men, who then turned on one another, gunning down their companions who had been touched by the infected. Horror-struck, I wondered how they could so quickly betray one another.

“Sarah, come
on
!” Joey tugged at my sleeve, and I quickened my pace. We were almost to the safety of the bush.

“Stop!” I heard Abramo shout. He alone was still focused on the two of us, leaving his men to deal with the scientists. I looked over my shoulder and saw him take aim at the backs of our heads.

“Joey,
down
!” I yelled, and I tackled him from behind. We thudded roughly into the dirt as Abramo’s shot whistled overhead. Immediately I rolled sideways, pulling Joey with me, and put the trailer temporarily between us and Abramo.

“This way!” a voice hissed.

I looked around, then spotted Dr. Monaghan standing in the doorway of the next building—the menagerie.

“Hurry!” he said, waving us toward him.

We ducked inside the menagerie just as Abramo rounded the side of the trailer; one of his bullets bit into the door as I pulled it shut. Dr. Monaghan toggled a switch and a row of bare bulbs along the ceiling flickered to life. Joey said something, but I couldn’t catch what it was above all the screeching and howling of the caged animals.

“Out the back door!” Dr. Monaghan cried. “Go, go, go!”

“What about you?” I asked.

“It’s too late for me. Get out of here!”

We sprinted down the aisle between the cages as the crazed, infected animals raged at us. I heard another shot, and then the door we’d entered swung open. I looked back and saw Abramo and three of his men run inside. Were they all that was left after the scientists attacked them?

“Monaghan!” Abramo roared. “Stop them!”

“Too late!” Dr. Monaghan cackled. He unlatched one of the cages, releasing a silver baboon. The animal streaked across the floor amid a flurry of gunshots and then leaped onto one of the gunmen’s faces, sinking its teeth into his neck. Abramo dropped the man and the monkey with two precise head shots.

“Stop!” he shouted, but Dr. Monaghan moved to the next cage, unleashing an infected caracal. We reached the door, and Joey pulled it open.

“Come on!” he said, but I hesitated, looking back. The last two men were desperately trying to bring down the caracal, which hissed and lunged at them, while Abramo stood behind them, using them as a shield from the animal.

“Dr. Monaghan,” I said, “come with us!”

He stood still a moment and met my gaze, looking more like a machine than a man, but the misery in his eyes was all too human.

“She was your mother, wasn’t she?” he said.

“What did you say?” I gasped out.

“Jillian. Jillian Carmichael—you look just like her.”

“You knew my—”

“Sarah, let’s
go
!” Joey grabbed my arm and yanked me out of the building, and the last I saw of Dr. Monaghan was his sad face vanishing behind the door as Joey slammed it shut.