I can't see anything.
A blindfold shields my eyes and my arms are tied to cold metal at my sides, likely the arms of a chair. My captors didn't bother taping my mouth or gagging me; I guess they know there's no one in the area alive to help. The world is dead.
Footsteps echo on tile coupled with rattling chains and groans; a few incoherent voices. The smell of death overpowers, but there's also a hint of bleach and antiseptics. My mom worked in a hospital; not all these scents are entirely new to me.
"You're such a good girl," a voice says nearby. The voice unmistakably belongs to the man with white hair and dark eyes. Metals clanks nearby and I freeze. My heart hammers. Breathe. Despite being on the verge of a panic attack, I can't freak out. There's gotta be a way out of this...
Someone tugs the blindfold off me in a swift but harsh movement. Light floods my vision and my eyes blur from the tight binding, so I have to blink my surroundings into focus.
Fluorescent lights overhead. A few Hazmats armed with guns lining the walls—all eyes on me. To the left is a whole wall with cages...for the undead. Sickly gray arms reach through the bars but a collar on their necks tugs them back. More cages at my right...but these are filled with people. My heart stops when I realize they're all lying on the floor of their cages unmoving.
Except for the one closest to the wall near the Hazmats. His body is curled into a ball, dark clothing torn and smeared with blood and his dark hair messy and damp. His chest still rises and falls but his current state is unnerving. My heart collapses on itself.
Ash...
"He wouldn't cooperate, so his current state is only a punishment for his actions. You must understand that."
I meet the man's cold, dark eyes. He wears a satisfied smile, completely content with the situation. I want to smack that smile right off his face. My throat is scratchy and dry from so much screaming and crying, but I muster what I can. "Is he...?"
"Dead? Oh, of course not." His grin widens. "Yet."
"You can't kill him!" I spit at the man. I tug on my restraints, but the hard metal cuts into my wrists and leaves several painful bruises. "I won't let you."
"Ah, well the choice isn't up to you, is it?"
I glare daggers. "What do you want from us? We didn't do anything! Why are you collecting the dead? How did you find me? And I'll ask again...what did you do to Carter?"
The man folds his hands behind his back and tilts his head to the side. "Questions, questions, so many questions. I'll answer one. Choose wisely."
I try kicking my feet, but they're restrained, too. My chair is the only one in the center of the large room we're in, and it's nailed to the floor. Tears burn my eyes, but I blink them away. Think clearly...stay calm... I inhale slowly and stop fighting my restraints. "How do you know me?"
"Wise choice. Easy answer: You're number twelve."
Number twelve? "That doesn't answer—"
"It's my turn to ask a question. Does...PSCC ring a bell?"
I remain silent.
"Of course it does. It should. You, Miss Scarlett Evans, weren't even chosen to be part of the convention. How sad is that?"
Heat burns in the core of my chest. I shift my eyes to the pocket of his lab coat where a pen is hooked. It's not much, but if I could just get my hands on it...
"But," the man continues casually, walking around my chair, "upon Lucy Steinbeck's decline, you were admitted, putting you at number twelve in their tainted little program."
He moves behind me and stops. I can't turn my head and the back of my neck prickles with fear. Stay calm...think... just keep him talking...
"We are not part of the PSCC, if that's what you meant to ask." He moves around the chair again and stops a foot in front of me. Eyes me resentfully, the smile completely lost. Then he leans forward and puts his hands over my own, his face so close to mine I can smell the rot on him; see the stains of blood and zombie flesh plastered to his lab coat. "We destroyed everything affiliated with the PSCC. Stormed through their offices and shot all their workers. Located their equipment and found the devices they used to track you. And then we tracked you down ourselves." The grim smile returns.
My heart hammers. "Why would you do that?" More important question: the PSCC was tracking us? Why?
He steps away and laughs without humor. "Why? Why do you think? They got my daughter killed."
Daughter? This man...this cruel, twisted and corrupt man has a daughter?
He must read the confusion on my face because he scoffs and rolls his eyes. "No wonder you were an afterthought to joining the PSCC. Your brain is severely lacking. Is that, perhaps, why the zombies haven't eaten you yet? Maybe immunity has nothing to do with it."
I grind my teeth and tug at my restraints again. Pain tears at the bones in my wrists. If I can break the bones, I can slip through...but then my hands would be useless.
"Call me Dr. Steinbeck. Lucy's father."
Time ices over. This is Lucy's father? Mr. Big Wheel who always took her to "journey to the center of the earth"?
He turns to face the Hazmats with his arms out. "Oh yes, the surprise! This is the moment your jaw drops and the crowd gasps." He faces me again. "Why do you think she declined the offer to join the PSCC? She fell ill because they exposed her to the virus during my business trip. We visited the PSCC before they sent the acceptance letters. Do you even know what they did? Do you have any idea what you and the other eleven seniors—including your boy Carter—were getting yourselves into?"
I think back to when Carter and I first accepted the letters. We were told it was an internship to secure our futures with a guaranteed position in the medical field. But Lucy was sick a week before we even left for Cali, and then we were gone two weeks. When we returned, everything was in shambles. I knew the convention felt off—Carter even noticed when we were injected. And Ash said his dad was investigating the science conventions for illegal experimentation.
What did they do?
"You're paling." Dr. Steinbeck—Lucy's father—frowns. He sighs heavily and plops down on a rolling chair before scooting to a medicine-tray covered with vials and tubes and needles. While he pulls on latex gloves and prepares one, he continues calmly. "The virus broke out several months before on an island where it was contained. The PSCC is the cause of it; they were experimenting to find a cure to cancer and several other unnamed diseases. It was kept under wraps, and they soon realized they had to create an immunity initially for PSCC workers. They set up four locations with labs to test experimental drugs on students. One in Cali, the others in New York, Florida, and Washington. Do you follow?"
I don't answer him, but pieces start connecting with what Ash told me: the PSCC wasn't just stationed in Cali, there were ones in other states. Those are the ones he must be referring to.
"They created twelve possible cures with the intentions of injecting each student with a different one. Ten other schools went to Cali with you, so there would be ten copies of each of the twelve potential cures just within that state. Same rule applied to the four other states. Carter received strain VK-2, while you received strain VK-12. Still following?"
I nod. The numbers must correspond with the order in which we received our acceptance letters to join the PSCC. Had Lucy attended, she would've received the strain of VK-12, not me. So where is Lucy now?
"I know they told you there was a leaked contaminant. The others all said the same thing. That their lab equipment failed. That they injected you with something to combat the contaminant."
The others...as in, other seniors. What happened to all of them? Are they the ones unconscious in the cages? I can't see any of their faces from where I'm sitting and I don't want to take my eyes off the man—Dr. Steinbeck—in case he tries something.
"But, Miss Evans, you were never exposed to a contaminant. At all. You all received variations of the immunity and were to return to your homes immune. The twelve from here returned here, twelve from another state returned to their state, and so on. The PSCC then planned to release one infected in each state, monitoring the spread and how the immunity affected each of the twelve strains. VK-1 to VK-12. That's what the trackers were for; to monitor the progress. Immunity takes time to work. But what happened is—the virus got out before they scheduled to release it."
I struggle keeping up, too much information swarming my head. But I latch on to that final detail like a potential weapon for self-defense. The PSCC planned the outbreak. It just happened before they wanted it to. And Lucy is probably the one that started it. Patient Zero.
"Ahh, your eyes are lighting up. You understand." He connects tubing to another vial. "Yes, my daughter contracted the virus when we went overseas. To Island of the Infected. She brought it back and that's how it began. Had she gone to Cali, she would've received the immunity, not you. But the thing is—the other variations of the drug are just that. A drug for immunity. However, yours—VK-12—also has the key to reversal. The cure."
The cure. In my blood. There's no way...
"I think you'll like this next part. Are you ready?" He meets my eyes expectantly, the empty vial prepared. After pulling a mask over his mouth, he turns to one of the Hazmats and nods at Ash's cage. "Wake the boy up."
The hazmat, this one armed with a police baton, walks over to the cage and brings the baton sharply against the bars. The sound echoes in the musty room. When Ash doesn't move, he continuously hits the bars until Ash stirs. "Get up!" the hazmat yells. It takes Ash several minutes, but soon he pushes himself upright, wincing as he grips one of the bars.
"Good." Dr. Steinbeck looks back at me. "It's my understanding the boy killed your parents. By a grenade."
His words draw my eyes away from Ash. There's no way he would know that.
"Before you ask, know this: those people who raided your flower shop? Who took out your vehicles? Who stole your belongings and killed everyone inside? That wasn't our doing. Probably some feral survivors who know the rules of the game. Kill or be killed. But, they certainly made our job easier. We ran into two of the escaped during our return to the Safe House that night—Robert and Keilah? The woman admitted to leaving you, supplying your name as payment for entry into the Safe House, which she stupidly believed was still safe. After we got what info we needed, we shot the two and planted them close by, knowing you'd be desperate enough to take your backpack. We inserted a listening device on the bag. We heard everything."
My backpack. The whole time... Our whole journey, they were listening? From the point I got my backpack—the time with Ellis, the discovery of my immunity, saving Becca and Monty, our conversations around the campfire, Prom shopping—they heard it all. Even my private conversation with Ash when he told me about his family's history. When I mentioned Carter. Everything.
"Why?" My voice comes out choppy and I still can't catch my breath. I see Ash look over from the corner of my eye, but the hazmat swats the cage again, forcing him to release the bar. "Why would you bother with all that if you already could track us? And why didn't you just take us when I picked up my backpack?"
"To answer the first: because we had to listen to make sure it wasn't rigged. The PSCC wanted to track you so they could note changes as the immunity worked through your system. And to answer the second: Time was of the essence. It would be a waste to wait not knowing when you would find the backpack. We had to go to Cali to retrieve the trackers in the first place, hence the delay. This is the part where you learn of Carter's fate, but I'd rather tell you about your mother's."
"My mother's?"
"Yes. The other students who received VK-12 do not have the cure in their system; only you. Which tells me it must be genetic; you're antibodies merged with VK-12, creating a cure. We'll have to test to know for sure. Which also leads me to believe your mother carried the gene. If that's the case, she would be alive right now—but as we all know, your boyfriend killed both your parents."
My mom...had the cure in her blood, too? No way. He's lying. I look over at Ash, wincing and doubled over in pain. He can hardly move. Does he hear what Dr. Steinbeck's saying? He hunches over and coughs—from what I can see...blood. When he wipes his mouth and looks up, our eyes lock.
"Miss Evans." Dr. Steinbeck—or Dr. S—snaps his fingers in front of my face. He's wheeled himself over to me and a needle is in his hands. "I'm drawing blood. That's how we'll start. After the tests finish, I'll let you know if you're worth keeping or being discarded like the rest."
"Don't...don't hurt her." Ash's voice sounds strained. More coughing.
"I'll do as I please, Mr. Hunter."
Hunter? Is that really Ash's name? Or...last name?
Dr. S ties a piece of rubber around my arm and sticks me with the needle, hardly being gentle. I'd kick him away but that won't get me any closer to an escape. As red fills the tube, I eye his pen again. I could head-butt him and steal it with my teeth...but he'd see it in my mouth upon pulling away. Think...new plan...or any plan...
When he finishes, he caps the blood and stands. "You'll remain with Mr. Hunter in the meantime. Please behave. Misconduct is considered a crime punishable by death here."
Psh. Yeah right. Not for me, at least. He needs me too much to do anything. I spit at him, the glob landing on his coat. He merely raises his eyebrows in annoyance. "I'll be back shortly." As he gets up to leave, one of the Hazmats approaches my chair and undoes the restraints. He grips me by the arm and drags me to Ash's cage. I don't fight it. Stay calm...think straight. Then he throws me inside with Ash, the doors slamming behind me.
"Ash!" I crouch at his side and hesitate before touching him. What hurts? Where was he beaten worst? I carefully put my fingers under his chin so he can look at me. He's still disoriented and his black eye is darker. Bruises coat his jaw and his lip is split. I look him over completely and discover several cuts and bruises on his arms and chest. He grabs his side again and hunches over.
"Pretty sure...they...broke one of my ribs."
Oh, Ash. "Dr. S is pure—no don't!" I grab his arm and hold him in place when he tries standing. He groans in pain and gives up, leaning against one of the walls breathing heavy. On my knees, I gently steady him so he doesn't fall over. His eyelids flutter and I tap his cheek to keep him awake. "Ash, stay awake. We have to—" One of the Hazmats looks over, so I lower my voice, "we have to get out of here."
"No, duh."
"What happened to the others?"
"Becca and Monty? They—agh." He winces again and doubles over in pain, clutching his side. "Monty's dead. I told Becca to wait outside for you just so she couldn't see him not breathing. But when the Hazmats came, they had to drag me from the building. I didn't know why; I figured they were just after SWAT officers since they probably killed my teammates. But when they dragged me out, I didn't see Becca."
My heart sinks.
"Ellis?" Ash coughs again—more blood—and tries looking at me. "Where is that idiot?"
More aching in my chest. "He was bit."
Ash lowers his eyes, suddenly solemn. "Oh. Damn."
I look around at the other cages. The ones on either side of us hold people. Dead. Test subjects? I scoot away from Ash to peer between the only bars separating us from the others. Those poor souls. The brunette in the one next to us is utterly still, eyes closed. Her veins pop out and whatever they injected her with seems to have spread through her veins, turning them black like tattoos swirling up and down her arms, legs, and neck. I pretend that's what they really are.
My eyes survey the other cages. They're all the same. Everyone's dead. These were the other PSCC students. My senior classmates—among others. I look away.
"Carter's not here." I sit next to Ash and pull my knees to my chest. "They had him. They did something to him."
"They said so?"
"They hinted at it. I don't see him, but he must've been here. He's not in any of the cages. Do you think he's still alive?"
"Can't say. Why are we here? What do they—" Ash winces again and turns away to cough more blood onto the concrete. "What do they want with us?"
Keeping my eyes trained on the unaware Hazmats, I explain everything. Lucy bringing the virus back before our trip; chaos ensuing the time Carter and I were gone so we walked right into it when we returned. Dr. S trying to cure Lucy—who's where?—and the PSCC creating the virus in the first place. How twelve seniors were injected with twelve different immunities. Mine having the cure. But...still no answers on the Safe House.
"Fuck." Ash scrubs a hand down his face and looks out at the door Dr. S went through. "Okay, we'll play by their rules for now. We'll have to suffer a little longer, but maybe they'll let us go."
"What if they don't?"
"I'll figure something out."
* * *
Ash and I sleep on and off. Several hours pass—maybe a day. A sharp rattle against our bars forces Ash and I to sit up on high alert. Dr. S stands in front of our cage with a satisfied smile.
"Scarlett. Glad you're awake." He unlocks the door but hesitates before opening it. "I'd like you to know your blood tested positive for having the antibodies necessary for obtaining the cure. It's confirmed the gene is from your mom's side. Had she been given VK-12, her blood would've ultimately merged into the cure over time as well." He stares pointedly at Ash. He refuses to meet Dr. S's eyes, but he does meet mine. They flood with guilt and shock, the same amount of shock I feel inside. My mom would be alive right now. Would we have stayed in my house? Would she have gone to the Safe House with us?
But right now...those things don't matter anymore. The past is the past. Does Dr. S expect this to turn me against Ash? If so, he's way off. It's okay, I want to tell Ash. Instead, I put a hand over his and glare at Dr. S, who only continues smugly. "Now all I need is some more blood work to test on several of the infected. After a few rounds, all successful I hope, we'll test my daughter."
"And then you'll let us go?" I grab one of the bars.
He frowns. "Why would I do that?"
My face grows hot. "Why wouldn't you? You can't keep us here!"
"Oh, but I can. And I will. You, Miss Evans, are the answer to the outbreak. The key piece. Yes, I know you thought it was Carter. Surprise, it's not. We need you. And once I prove I've found my cure, I have to keep you for further testing."
"The hell you will." Ash manages to stand so he's eye-level with Dr. S. "This is bullshit. Caging us like animals? Killing my buddies at the Safe House? Collecting the dead? How the hell are you any better than the PSCC? Yeah they started the virus, but they didn't kill people while trying to find the cure."
Dr. S smiles at Ash. "Misconduct is punishable by death, Mr. Hunter. Are you challenging me?"
"You haven't seen challenge." Ash lowers his voice to a growl. The murderous glare on his face is pure aggression. "I'm going to burn this place down before you even get to save your daughter. Watch. It'll happen when you least expect it."
"Threats don't faze me. Now I'm coming to retrieve Scarlett; you try anything, and I'll put a bullet in your head."
I nudge Ash and force him to look at me, mentally communicating the please don't do anything stupid look. Dr. S means business; his calm demeanor makes him a wild card. The only reason he's keeping Ash is so I comply. Unless...there's another reason he hasn't killed Ash yet?
Dr. S opens our cage and yanks me by my wrists, swiftly straps zip ties around them and drags me out before slamming the door on Ash.
Several more hours pass; I'm treated like a lab rat and taken to a completely different room. Hazmats walk throughout the halls, some dragging zombies on chains like dogs. More test subjects, I suppose. Stay calm... How many more times will I have to tell myself this? I'm on the verge of a mental breakdown. My eyes still roam for Carter. Was he really here? What did they do to him? Did they kill him like all the other VK- test subjects?
My new room is much smaller and smells like puke. I'm restrained in another chair as Dr. S collects more blood work. I watch him mix my blood with other chemicals, the reactions turning my blood in the tubes blue, black, and green. I can't stand the silence coupled with groaning and clanking chains in the halls, so I fish for more info.
"What happened at the Safe House? If you didn't have the trackers yet, how did you find Carter?"
He raises an eyebrow, never looking up from his work. "Easy. We had the names of everyone attending the PSCC and he was one of them. The Safe House was a central meeting point for survivors, so my crew and I went there to sniff out PSCC recruits. Carter was there in the lobby, our easiest target. After taking him, we bombed the Safe House so none others would get in our way. We didn't realize you were with him."
So when Carter left to get my pain meds...that's when they struck? I knew he didn't leave by choice. The Safe House was a disaster; clearly the result of an ambush. But who locked my door if they took him right away? "Why did you go back weeks later...after I left the Safe House?"
He purses his lips in irritation. "None of us knew who number twelve was since it was supposed to be my daughter. Since you were merely a spot-filler, your name was never put in the PSCC's system. All we knew was that Carter was paired with number twelve, and he refused to give us your name. We had to beat it out of him. Torture him. Starve him. One day, he finally caved and gave us your name and location. We went back, but you weren't there. So we had to do things the hard way and drive to Cali, wreck the PSCC and steal their trackers to track you down." He explains everything as casually as if he's commenting on the weather.
My insides twist in a knot. Beat. Torture. Starve. Even then, Carter protected me. Maybe he had Millie lock my door...did they take her, too? My heart crumbles and aches. "So you went through each of the immunities, VK-1 to VK-11, and when each of them failed...your final one was mine. VK-12." Not a question; my mind can hardly grasp it. Carter was only immune, which means he should've ended up like the others: dead. "What did you do with Carter?"
That malicious smile returns and he sets down the vials to meet my eyes. "We disposed of his battered body."
No. I shake my head and my hair falls into my eyes. He's not dead...they can't have killed him. I start tugging on my restraints again. "But he did what you said. Why torture him anymore?"
"Again, you're not the brightest bulb in the bunch, Miss. Evans. We ran out of use for him. He was more trouble than he was worth. We could've kept him caged like the others, but he wreaked havoc and destroyed the samples we did have. He knows how to tamper with chemicals. So we knocked him out cold and left him for dead."
Just. Like. That. How could a person be so cruel? What would've happened had I stayed at the Safe House? They would've found me, but does that mean they would've left Carter alone? And we aren't anywhere near Ostford. That place truly is a refuge. Carter was never there. We were following the wrong path the entire time. He was here, being tortured, and we missed him...by how many days? Weeks?
"No more questions, Miss Evans." Dr. S stands and gathers up his samples. He stores them in a blue box and seals it before disposing of his gloves. Then he meets my eyes. "Would you like to see my daughter now?"
Before I can answer, he presses a button on the wall and speaks into a built-in speaker. "Daniel, please bring Lucy to room 245."
I narrow my eyes at him but he doesn't meet my eyes. I scan the room for something useful and spot his tools on the counter to my left: scissors, a pen, and a scalpel. Any would work, but I'm still restrained. Maybe I can convince him to bandage my leg, especially since I was scratched. Speaking of which...how is it affecting me? If I can get him to come close enough to me with a needle and thread, maybe I can figure something out.
"Dr. Steinbeck, can I at least get some medicine? My leg hurts pretty bad." I wince for full effect and he looks at me, unfazed.
"No. We can't have anything interfering with your blood work."
"You already took it."
"And I'll continue to take it. I noticed the scratches on your leg, if that's what you're referring to. I'll have them cleaned up in no time. They aren't of any concern. You're immune."
"How will it affect patients given my blood?"
"Your blood acts as a predator to the virus. At any exposure, it eliminates it."
"Yeah, but—"
The door flies open and Dr. S grins widely. A Hazmat stands in the doorway, dragging a chain behind him. The chain shakes; he yanks it like a leash. "Be gentle, Daniel," Dr. S says sternly.
And in an instant, Lucy emerges. Only...it's not her anymore.
The creature's milky-white eyes jump around the room aimlessly, jaws snapping and revealing rotting yellow teeth coated in blood. And...flesh. It looks like she just ate, which only makes my stomach churn. Her flesh peels at the arms and legs, some areas missing so much skin I can see her bones. Her movements are uncoordinated and animalistic, her sights only set on food. It's not Lucy anymore. Is it even possible for someone to recover from this much rot and decay?
"We haven't tested any cures on her; the other creatures are our test subjects. You'll stay in this room while we test your blood and study the patients. If it works, she'll receive the final dose. Till then, you two have fun catching up."