Behind the Wall Part I

4 Part 1 - The File Of A Mother

"It's possible, yes," our father said when I couldn't find an answer. "But don't worry about them."

Because they're definitely dead, I finished the sentence in my head.

I forced myself to focus on my screen, scrolling through the document to get an overview of the amount of data.

"You two should get some sleep," I finally said, looking up. "It's going to take a while to go through all of this. In the meantime, you can rest."

Papà nodded and began untying his shoelaces. I kissed Max on the head before he lay back down. By the time I stepped outside with my laptop, Max was already asleep and our father was staring at the mattress above him. His feet stuck out slightly beyond the edge of the bed; it wasn't exactly made for men who were six foot five. I made myself comfortable at the picnic table on the veranda and started reading everything my mother had known about her failed experiment.

✵ ✵ ✵

The two slept until the bell for dinner echoed through the camp. By then, I had long finished reading and had been observing the hustling, trying to process everything I had learned. People stood in scattered groups or sat at the tables of the cabins, talking to each other, sharing their experiences, and seeking support. When new people arrived, they were welcomed and shown around. Most had nothing with them except the clothes on their backs, a few carried backpacks or bags. Alex sent them all to the main house first, where Olivia assigned them. Afterward, their cabin companions took care of them. If this weren't such a terrible situation, their cooperation would be a great example of community spirit. Everyone helped everyone.

Alex himself was constantly on the move, listening to people's concerns. I hadn't seen him sit or stop smiling for even a second. He did everything he could to maintain the illusion of control. Everyone was too preoccupied with themselves anyway, otherwise they would have noticed how he had spoken for a few minutes with four people who had come from the gravel path, rifles slung over their backs. The intense whispering, the wild gestures, the constant glances in our direction, and the abrupt scattering throughout the camp were enough evidence that there was an irreversible problem with the radio signal. Alex had looked desperate, even ruffled his hair after the others had left. We were on our own.

My father opened the door just as I was standing up. The three of us walked across the grounds and got in line in front of the main house, which had begun to form at the first sound of the bell. Inside, to the left of the entrance, was a long table with countless deep plates and bins full of spoons. We took one each and moved forward. On additional tables stood five large pots filled with rice stew, from which everyone was served two ladles. Next to them were several loaves of bread, cut into pieces, from which everyone was supposed to take only one. Once we had our portions, we exited through the open side door. Max, Papà, and I walked past the crowd back to the cabin, where we sat at the picnic table on the veranda so we could talk in private.

Our father wasted no time. "What did you find out?"

I placed my plate next to my laptop. "The virus is ... complicated. Once it enters the body, a manic phase begins in which one loses all control. You basically see red toward everything and everyone. When it is over, you return to your normal state, but the longer you carry it, the worse and more frequent these phases become. Basically, you go completely insane over time. Once the virus reaches the brain, the person cannot be cured anymore. The document didn't say if that means death, only that a normal life is no longer possible."

He furrowed his brows. "That could mean a lot of things, from physical impairment to death. Was this just a theory or could she confirm it?"

"She mostly conducted animal experiments and managed to observe different effects that matched this vague statement. I don't know if last night was the first human trial, at least there were no records of prior ones."

"Maybe it's different," Max said, tearing off a piece of bread.

I looked at him. "You mean between animals and humans?" He nodded.

My father swallowed a spoonful of stew. "That's possible, DNA structures vary between species. That means this information might only partially apply to humans. What else did you read?"

I ate a small bite before continuing. "You can tell if someone is infected by their skin. It turns purple, with blue and red veins spreading the longer they carry the virus. It starts at the point of entry. The main way that happens is through deep bites, but she also theorized that strong scratches or open wounds could transmit it."

"So, it has to enter the bloodstream," my father concluded.

I nodded. "That's what I thought too. It may be the reason for the manic phase. Mamma couldn't fully describe it herself. The records stated that the animals literally went insane, as if their primal instincts completely took over. Their eyes were said to have turned red, which she also didn't understand. She never found a scientific reason for it. To me, it sounds like they turned into zombies."

My father narrowed his eyes. "Then at least we now know why the people were screaming. These ... infected attacked them while they were in the manic phase."

I bit into my bread and chewed. "The last thing is that there's no antidote. Once someone carries the virus, they will eventually die from it. Or end up in that unlivable state she described."

We ate in silence for a few seconds, letting the information sink in before my father spoke again. "Is that all the information on the virus?"

I nodded. "There was another document on its molecular composition and some protocols about the test trials, but nothing else. However, there is something else very important you both need to know."