Parish (22 page)

              “Dr. Miller?” Wren gasped, she searched his face, pulling the oxygen mask off.  “Don’t I know you?”

              “Yes.  I worked with your mother when she transferred to New Orleans.” Dr. Miller smiled.  “I was rescued from the hospital after your mother left me there to die.” He pushed his glasses up higher on his nose.   “The military sent a helicopter, I was brought here to this field hospital.  Tell me, child, where is your mother?”

              “Dead, everyone’s dead.” Wren sobbed as she shook her head.  Dr. Miller clicked his tongue.

              “That’s a real shame.  You see, I was informed that it was your mother’s very creation that caused this whole mess.” Dr. Miller shook his head.  “I had so hoped she survived so she could stop it, but I see now I had hoped in vain.”

              “She killed herself.” Wren blurted out.  “Dr. Miller, is my brother, my twin really dead?”

              “Oh yes, quite.  You are the sole survivor. I will admit this, dear young lady, it was very great thing that man did by jumping in and taking that bullet for you and when I say a great thing I do mean for us dear, not you.  I will say it is rather lucky for you that you’re alive of course.”

              “I don’t understand.” Wren shook her head, the pain still throbbed whenever she moved.

              “You see, we have your mother’s research notes. Very lucky for us, she kept nicely detailed notes by the way.  As it turns out you and your twin are especially valuable.  I should say you are valuable. Your twin? Not so much. I can’t do much with a corpse, I’m a doctor not a mortician.” Dr. Miller chuckled at his own joke.

              “My brother’s death is not funny!” Wren screamed, anger filling her and numbing her to the pain.

              “It’s not to you, but you will see the humor in a moment.  Your mother had been working on Nazarene for many, many years.  It turns out that she had a slight lab accident during her pregnancy with you and your brother.  You both carry the antigen to this Nazarene.  The cure is in your blood.  Isn’t that wonderful Miss DeLasalle, your blood shall save the human race?” Dr. Miller smiled.  Wren went to move, she wanted to wrap her hands around the old man’s neck and strangle the life from his body.  She found she could not move, her arms and legs were tied down with straps.

              “It’s really pointless, my dear.” Dr. Miller sighed.  “You see, you now belong to the United States government.  We shall harness and market the cure which flows through your veins and sell the antidote worldwide.  The whole world will be enslaved to our country, all of them so desperate to save their people.”

              “You’re a monster!  You can’t keep me here! I have rights! I have rights!” Wren screamed as she continued to fight against her restraints.

              “You have nothing, you are an orphan of the zombies.  No one will miss you.  If there is someone out there who looks for you they will merely believe that you along with all in your family succumbed to the zombie infection.  Your mother was nice to me, I do feel sorry she died, but she treated me like an old drunk fool.  I am no old drunk fool, I was smart enough to figure out what was going on.  I was smart enough to outsmart her, after all look who is alive and look is dead, right?” Dr. Miller shrugged.  “I do have other things I must attend to, I will see you soon.  Be sure to rest.” He turned and walked out of the room leaving Wren alone.

              Wren screamed until her voice was gone and her throat raw.  She pulled on the straps restraining her until they cut into her wrists and ankles and she felt the warm ooze of her blood running out to stain the stark white sheets she lay upon. 

              Her mind raced as she thought over everything Dr. Miller had said. 

              She was a prisoner, they had tricked her mother for money.  Greed.  Greed caused them to create something to mimic the abilities of God, and it had turned into a curse from hell.  She was cursed, her hell would make people wealthy.  People died because others wanted money.

              Violently she was able to use her blood to wrench one hand free and she pulled herself free of the remaining tethers, stumbling she got out of the bed.  The doors opened, the nurse and Dr. Miller rushed her but it was too late, Wren grabbed hold of a pair of scissors and plunged them into her neck, arterial spray painted the wall as she fell.

              She would make no man wealthy off the suffering of untold millions.  She surrendered herself to the darkness as it engulfed her as the comforting embrace of her family.

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Nicole Murphy was born in Pennsylvania and has lived in in South Carolina with her husband, three children and two step children for the last ten years.  She has a Bachelor’s degree in Psychology and holds a Master’s degree in Human Services. 

When she is not tending to family or reading, she enjoys sewing, crocheting, and knitting.  She loves writing in all genres. Parish is her third published novel; the first two works are
The Dominion of Light
and
Insolent
.