Toxic (7 page)

Oleg nodded. His wide open eyes seemed close to bursting from their sockets.

“Just like Valery Orlov, the great Valery Orlov.”

Once again, Jave got confirmation. “So, explain to me why our drones picked you up on Staten Island, in the United States of America, twelve thousand kilometers from there.”

“How did he find this product?” the reptilian officer inquired.

How did they look over this
? Naakrit almost said in return.

He knew Orlov. His name had caught his attention before the invasion. The scientist had discovered a cure for an illness which affected the human immune system. He had become very famous, a figurehead of scientific research, a position which he held for only a brief moment. His sudden disappearance had caused a commotion, a shock equal to the hopes that he had offered to millions of suffering products. The worldwide vaccination campaign which followed constituted a sort of tribute to him.

Before the mercenaries landed, cases of a strange and violent ailment were propping up in several large cities. Naakrit had neglected these reports from the human health service, which blamed the miracle cure.

The Lynian had definitely included this in his analysis. Nobody really understood how these beings managed to assemble such disparate information. The Primark was sure of one thing, however: he had been unable to reverse the process which led to the uncontrollable proliferation of infected products. The emissary was trying to establish a link between Orlov and the epidemic. He had already followed this lead, without success, but it had just become hot again.

After jostling him, Jave let the Russian recover his composure and take his seat once again. Oleg rubbed his temples and scratched his scalp. “I assure you that I know nothing. All that... It was ultra-secret, or even more. Us technicians didn't know the purpose of the project.”

“Tell me what you think you know.”

The individual took a breath. “Command ordered us to go to America, to New York, to participate in the creation of a sort of task force charged with the fight against terrorism. Given our specialty, we were going to dedicate ourselves to biological threats. Smallpox, diphtheria, anthrax, the plague, hemorrhagic fevers. We had to develop fast and efficient counter-measures.”

Jave raised a finger. “Continue.”

“I think that it was a cover for a larger-scale undertaking.”

“Why?”

“Orlov expressly prohibited the team members from being treated with VRC-098b, better known by the name of Siva-B. Also, we worked solely on the regeneration of necrosis in human tissue.”

“Did you make advances?”

“I can't really say any more. I’m only a level 2 lab technician. The big-wigs worked away in the sector confined to level 5.”

“The big-wigs?”

“The high-level scientists.”

“What became of them?”

“Dead. Vanished when the complex went into security lockdown after an experiment error. Everything was burnt to a cinder. Even the samples.”

“No survivors, except you?”

“I happened to be outside at the time of the purification.”

When Jave entered the control room, Naakrit understood exactly what his next request would be. He made the first move. “A T-J is ready to take off for New York.”

The emissary contented himself with thanking him.

“I’m joining you,” the reptilian added.

“Perfect.”

He watched the Lynian sit down in front of a console. His claws touched the landscape of information which reorganized itself right away. Varied opinions existed regarding Lynians, considered either geniuses or instable beings. The analyses did come together on one aspect, at least: as soon as they had a lead, they didn't stop for anything. According to other Primarks Naakrit had encountered during his career who had employed them, the obsession could reach such a degree that they lost their much appreciated qualities and therefore their usefulness.

Naakrit observed the emissary, on the lookout for an indicator of hyperpolarization behavior, or so it was called.

E
laine fell onto her knees in front of the Asian while the first of the infected fought off by Masters fell down on top of one another. Double the amount of those creatures, or maybe more, were lugging about near the pools. They were coming towards them.

“Do you know how to swim?”

The near expressionless features of the boy prevented her from being sure if he correctly understood the matter. Did he only speak English? He looked foreign. Lost.

“They’re going to attack us. We need to jump. Do you understand?”

Against all expectations, he took a notebook out of his pocket as well as a pencil.
I know how to swim
, he wrote.

“Good. You see the big man, there, with his rough face and his pistol?”

He moved his head in his direction.

“His name is Masters. Do exactly what he tells you to. What's your name?”

Dewei
.

“Perfect, Dewei. I'm Elaine.”

Tension and indecision threatened to pull the group apart. Already, two people were moving away from them. They clearly intended to test the plan out themselves. The colonel couldn't reason with them. Beside him, the twenty-something year old in the red t-shirt and a brown-haired woman hesitated as to what to do. The other couple, moving away, sent them imploring glances. Elaine made her determination clear.

“Listen to me. They’re making a bad choice. They won't get off of this cruise ship against the horde that infests it. We’ll follow the departure plan. We’re re-joining the Colombian's boat.”

“No offence, but he doesn't look like he wants us on board. Who says that he's not going to kill us?” the young man asked.

The question seemed reasonable to her. She was asking herself the same thing. “Because I saw it in him. I'm jumping first.”

Masters handed her his 45.

“I won't need it,” she assured him.

Before the tormented gazes of her companions, she climbed, then stepped over the railing. Below, Hector's boat was passing through the channel once again. The Colombian was upright on the prow, his shotgun raised in a defiant posture. Elaine closed her eyes and let herself fall.

Her first thought was that the water was colder than in Miami. The second: that she had been overwhelmed by a sort of insane hallucination. Her mind suddenly chilled, Elaine realized the madness of her past twenty-four hours. She had executed a man, had saved others, fled from dozens, or hundreds of infected. She had almost died as well. For sure, there was also Hector. And that strange boy... Dewei. She had taken him with her like someone who picks up a lost puppy without a collar.

Since yesterday, she felt sucked up by a sort of infernal whirlwind, forced to run against the wind to stay alive. Her head pierced the water's surface a few hundred meters from the boat. Behind her, she heard loud splashes. Her companions were jumping into the water. The situation required her to force Hector's hand. One and then two gunshots resounded, followed a handful of seconds later by one last splash.

Elaine swam without looking back, forcing herself to keep the Colombian in her view. He remained in the same position. With each breath, she stared at him like a goal to achieve. Less than five meters away, she dived under the boat. She didn't know what he would decide at that moment.

The window that opened up to the seafloor, once meant to satisfy tourists’ thirst for sensational views, ran along the hull. She put her hands on it. Hector's deformed silhouette appeared at the bottom of the small ladder. He didn't shoot, as he wouldn’t risk putting a hole in the window. The many layers of transparent polymers and plastic would burst on impact, creating a waterway.

The captain didn't seem to her like the type of person ready to die at the helm. Not more than letting the helpless stragglers on board. She made out their shadows near the gangway ladder. Hector walked back and forth and passed his hands through his hair. He put his shotgun on the table and re-joined the deck. Elaine passed under the hull and came to the surface on the other side.

“Over here,” cried Masters, who had stepped on the boat first.

The butt of his 45 was sticking out of his soaking canvas clothing. He helped Dewei climb up. The brown-haired woman that accompanied them looked at Hector who, arms crossed in front of the cabin door, looked her up and down.

The young man in the red t-shirt, still in the water, turned towards her. “I'm Bruce.”

“Elaine.”

He smiled at her. His freckles and small, rolled up nose were characteristic of many adults his age. He climbed up the rungs and turned around. “We owe you our lives.”

Elaine gave a hint of annoyance and refrained from saying anything. Her intuition told her that on the contrary, they weren't done with this yet. Far from there.

Hector showed himself to be categorical immediately: he didn't authorize anyone to go inside. He also required them to not cover the solar panels positioned on the rounded roof and to not obstruct the path of the mast. The survivors accepted these rules. Even Masters, who expected to have a confrontation with the Colombian. He asked him to give him his gun. The marine looked at the outstretched hand with the intensity of a wild animal ready to pounce on its prey. Elaine encouraged him to give in to the captain’s demands. He gave him his 45.

The stressful part over, they sat down on the front deck, territory free of obligations. She brought Dewei a scarf. He remained squatting, back against the railing. “Are you cold?”

On the smooth face, similar to that of a porcelain doll, she detected a sort of agreement. She covered his shoulders. The boy scribbled a few words in his notebook.

Where are we going right now?

“As for that, I don't know anything about it. To Rio?” she proposed, all smiles.

The joke didn't seem to reach him. He remained stony-faced.

In front of them, the trio made up of Masters, Bruce and the woman were presenting themselves.

“I'm Alva Keen,” the woman declared. “Well, that's my stage name.”

The colonel pinched his lower lip in a desperate gesture. The young man came to his rescue. “I saw you in concert at the Miami
Winter Conference
, five or six years ago. You were a hit there. Afterwards, you disappeared from the electro scene.

The reactions of the soldier amused her and Elaine savored the moment. He seemed more like the type to hang out in a jazz bar in New Orleans than someone who hung out in Florida's popular night clubs.

Elaine got up and looked at Hector, seated at the helm. The wind tousled his dark mane of hair.
Dewei had asked the right question
, she reflected. Often, it was necessary to obtain answers instead of waiting and finding yourself in front of the finished deed. Because he had accepted them on board, albeit with his back against the wall, she felt that it was her right to know. She took the initiative to talk to him.

The Colombian put his hand on his gun when she moved towards him.

“I'm not here to attack you,” she shot at him.

“What do you want?”

“Just to know where we're going.”

The destination didn't just interest her. The others joined her. The half-circle which formed in front of Hector made him nervous. His gaze fell down onto the control board and its burnt out screens. No electronic materials had been working since the invasion. The aliens had knocked civilization back decades.

“Listen. You saved us. Twice. I think that each one of us will be thankful to you for the rest of their days. But even so, we want to at least know your intentions.”

Masters narrowed his eyes, but kept his mouth closed. The Colombian sighed. “I’m going back to
mi casa
, in Buenaventura.”

The announcement didn't spark any enthusiasm.

“I can leave you along the way, in Panama,” he added.

The colonel seemed interested by the plan. “Buenaventura, the port on the Pacific? You're planning on taking the canal?”

“
Sí
.”

“So, you’ll have to cross on foot.”

“
¿Qué dices?
Why is that?” Hector asked, surprised.

“The aliens literally cut a mountain in two. The collapsing rubble filled the canal across a distance of a couple hundred meters.”

“What do you know about it?”

Masters moved away, swearing. “Because I did this trip in reverse and I prefer not to go back to that shit hole.”

The news brought surprise to the already grave face of the Colombian. Nobody dared to make even the slightest remark, for fear of putting more wood on the fire. Elaine took up her place once again.

They discussed a variety of options. Masters refused to take part in the debate which was limited to the observations of Bruce and the wishes of the artist of the group. “We'll find more help in Miami,” she suggested.

“Yeah, a city infested with infected people. Not my idea of fun. At sea, we're safe at least.”

“And the aliens?”

The young adult scowled.

“They'll end up nabbing us.”

The prognostic seemed fair. Drones dominated the sky, scanning the land and the ocean for healthy individuals. They weren't interested in the rotten dregs of humanity. The Asian wrote a word on a page. He pushed it towards Elaine with his fingers and short fingernails.