Battle Lines (The Survivalist Book 5) (12 page)

He held the card out to Leila.

“Consider it a wedding gift from Elsa and me.”

“Thank you. I wonder…”

“What?”

“I wonder if I might get a photo of you and your lovely wife.”

Joe’s eyes opened wide. “That’s a wonderful idea.” He stepped behind Elsa’s chair and gently rested his hands on her fragile shoulders.

Leila took a couple of steps back and readied her camera.

“Okay,” she said. “Smile.”

Chapter 10  

Tanner and Samantha hurried out onto Canal Road, only stopping when they were safely away from the thick crop of trees behind them.

“Have you noticed that every time we go into the woods, bad things happen?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about. When I’m surrounded by trees, I feel completely at peace with nature.”

She rolled her eyes.

“Besides,” he said, grinning, “look on the bright side. You basically got to go on an around-the-world safari without ever having to leave the city.”

“Don’t remind me.”

“Still sore over that elephant?”

She growled, but it was more playful now.

Tanner laughed, and they both turned to survey the two-lane road. Several large tractor-trailers were parked end to end along the edge of the street. The sides of the trucks were painted in colorful letters:
National Zoological Park
.

“Now
that
explains a lot,” he said, pointing to the trucks.

“The zoo brought their animals here?”

“Looks like it.”

They walked around to the back of the first trailer and found the doors sitting open. Inside were dozens of cages, some barely large enough to hold a rabbit, others able to fit a small flock of sheep. The trailer’s wooden floor was spotted with urine stains and piles of dried feces.

“Whew,” she said, wrinkling her nose and stepping back. “Do you think the zookeepers brought the animals here to keep them from dying?”

“Makes sense. Most will probably die anyway, but it’s better to be given a fighting chance.” Even as he said the words, Tanner couldn’t help but reflect on his own good fortune. The kindness of a single prison guard had allowed him to be where he was today. Not quite the butterfly effect, but a ripple of causality nonetheless.

“Should we try to drive one of these big rigs?”

Tanner studied the road. Canal Road was passable in their immediate vicinity, but he doubted that it would remain that way all the way to a bridge, certainly not enough for an eighteen-wheeled tractor-trailer.

“How about we make our way across the Potomac and then grab something a little easier to navigate?”

“Fine by me.”

They crossed the road, hopped a short stone wall, and followed a ramp down to the back of a white three-story house. It was built from the same matching stone and looked to be very old. A sign identified the landmark as the Abner Cloud House. On the other side of the house was a narrow canal, and beyond that another thicket of trees. A wide wooden bridge crossed over the water, which presumably wound its way into the Potomac River.

Tanner took a couple of deep sniffs.

“Smell that?”

Samantha stopped and tipped her nose up into the air.

“It smells like fried catfish.”

“You’ve eaten catfish?”

“Of course. Why wouldn’t I have? They’re not related to cats, if that’s what you’re thinking.”

“Good to know.” He patted the wall of the old house. “Want to stop in for lunch?”

“What makes you think we’re welcome?”

“Don’t worry,” he said, winking. “I’ll put on the old charm.”

“I’m sure that’ll go over great,” she muttered.

They circled around to the front of the house and crossed a large gravel parking lot. Man-sized boulders had been placed along one side of the lot to prevent tipsy tourists from plunging into the adjacent canal. The house itself looked like it had been built by early settlers. The window frames and front door were painted a British racing green, and a bright yellow moss grew along the bottom of the old stone, as if trying to blanket it from the harsh D.C. winters.

Tanner stepped up to the door and gave it a tap with the muzzle of his shotgun. A few seconds later, one of the curtains moved aside as someone peered out. Samantha turned and waved, hoping they might be willing to look past the brute holding the gun.

The curtains immediately pulled shut.

They stood at the door for another twenty seconds before finally giving up.

“Told you,” she said, turning to leave. “You scare people.”

“Me? How do you know it wasn’t you?”

She shook her head. “How could a twelve-year-old girl—”

They both wheeled around at the sound of a deadbolt clunking free. The door eased open a few inches, and a man peeked out. He had a blanket draped over his head, making it impossible for them to see anything more than the outline of his face.

“What do you want?” he snapped. His voice was throaty, like he was getting over a cold.

Tanner looked to Samantha, and when she didn’t say anything, he stepped a little closer.

“Sorry to bother you. We smelled something cooking and wondered… well, you know. We were kind of hoping you might have a little to share with a couple of hungry travelers. We could offer to trade if that might help.”

The man took a long moment to consider the request.

Finally, he said, “You’re welcome to come in and eat, but you may not like what you find here.”

Tanner shrugged. “It smells good. Besides, we’ve pretty much seen it all. Haven’t we, Sam?”

“Oh, yes,” she said. “In fact, Tanner killed a dragon less than an hour ago.”

The man neither chuckled nor scoffed. Instead, he retreated from the door, leaving it open for them to enter. Tanner stepped in first, and Samantha followed close behind. The man shuffled through another door that led into a small living room. He turned to an open fireplace, squatted down, and began tending to a cast iron pan that was hanging from a swing arm crane. The sound of sizzling fish made their mouths water.

“You live here alone?” Tanner asked, looking around the living room.

Antique furniture, dusty paintings, and shelves full of old books gave the place a museum sort of feel. A large mirror hung on one wall, but someone had taped brown packing paper over the glass.

“Yes, I’m alone.” There was something in the way he said the words that made Tanner and Samantha glance at one another.

Still shielding himself from their view, the man stood upright, and for the first time, they saw that his movements were awkward and pained—a clear sign of having been infected. Tanner tightened his grip on the shotgun.

“What did you mean when you said we might not like what we find?”

The man slowly turned and pushed the blanket off his head. His face was unlike any they had seen before, bumpy and coarse, like he had been the victim of a botched reverse liposuction. Only instead of fat, the doctors had opted for mashed potatoes. His lips were swollen to twice their normal size, and his eyes shone with a glossy black. Unlike the other infected men and women they’d seen, however, his limbs were neither deformed nor did black ink drip from his eyes.

“Are you sure you would share a meal with someone such as me?”

Tanner was about to beat a hasty retreat when Samantha stepped forward.

“What kind of fish did you catch?”

The man seemed genuinely surprised by her reaction to his unveiling.

“The fish?” He looked back over his shoulder at the cast iron pan. “It’s walleye.”

“Oh,” she said. “I thought it might be catfish. What’s a walleye taste like?”

“Like other fish, I suppose.”

She stepped to within arms’ reach and looked into the pan.

“It sure looks delicious. I’m basically a vegetarian, but I eat fish too.”

“You do, huh?”

“Oh sure. To be honest, I sometimes even eat wild chickens.”

“Wild chickens?”

“They’re really rabbits, but that’s what we call them.”

“You sound quite industrious,” he said, glancing back to extend the compliment to her father as well.

Tanner slowly lowered the shotgun and let it hang by his side. Whatever the virus had turned this man into, it was not a killer. He stepped forward and extended his hand.

“Tanner Raines.”

“And I’m Samantha,” she said, never turning away from the sizzling fish.

The man slowly brought his own hand up. His fingers were as puffy as a ski glove, but there were no open sores.

“Good to meet you both,” he said. “I’m Dr. Victor Jarvis.”

The walleye tasted even better than it smelled, and by the time they finished, Tanner and Samantha both had to loosen their belts.

“That was so good,” she said, using her sleeve to wipe the grease from around her mouth.

Tanner slid his chair away from the small wooden table.

“We do appreciate the hospitality.”

Dr. Jarvis offered a small smile.

“It’s nice to have a little company.”

“If you don’t mind my asking,” said Samantha, “how did you end up here in this old house?”

“That’s a bit of a long story. The short version is that I escaped from a hospital, wandered around for a while, and ended up crawling into this house to die. Little did I know that it would prove to be an ideal retreat.”

“Ideal how?” asked Tanner. “The place looks pretty sparse.”

“This house was built before modern utilities. There’s a boiler in the basement, and a hand pump out back. Oil lamps and candles are used for lighting, and as you already saw, the fireplace serves as a decent stove. Everything’s old-fashioned, which is exactly why it works so well.”

“We had a nice home too,” Samantha said with a sigh, “but we had to burn it down.”

“Why in the world would you do that?”

“On account of the creatures—” She covered her mouth. “I’m sorry.”

He shook his head. “It’s not you who should be sorry, dear.”

“Meaning what?” asked Tanner.

He waved the question away.

“It doesn’t matter.”

Tanner eyed him. Dr. Jarvis was holding onto some kind of a secret.

“Besides,” offered Samantha, “you’re not so bad. We’ve seen way worse. Haven’t we, Tanner?”

“Oh, yes.”

“Like that Backson in the tunnel. You should have seen that thing, Dr. Jarvis.” She started to raise her hands to describe the enormity of the creature but stopped when she noticed that he was looking down at his swollen hands.

“I’m sorry that you have to grow up in a world of monsters,” he said in a soft voice.

“It’s okay,” she said. “I’m sure it’s going to get better.”

“No,” he said. “It’s going to get much worse.”

Tanner sat up straight. It was time to press a little. He would start by asking nicely, but if that failed, he would resort to what he knew best.

“Dr. Jarvis, you obviously know something that we don’t. Since we’re all having to share the same foxhole, as it were, it’d be decent of you to let us in on the secret.”

He sighed. “Yes, I suppose you’re right. What you may not know is that the creatures are capable of rapid evolution, or mutation, if you prefer that term. It’s unlike anything mankind has ever seen.”

“Evolution is when creatures change to better fit their surroundings,” Samantha said, touching Tanner’s arm. “I learned that in science class.”

“And here I thought it had something to do with George Washington.”

“That’s
revolution
,” she explained, not picking up on his sarcasm.

“Actually,” said Dr. Jarvis, “they’re both related to this story.”

Tanner and Samantha shared a confused look.

“Did you know that George Washington faced a similar challenge some two hundred and thirty years ago?”

“Monsters?” she asked.

“No, not monsters. A virus. It moved through his camp at Valley Forge, killing thousands of soldiers. Their particular virus was called smallpox, a disease that had plagued the Romans and even the ancient Egyptians.”

“Was it like Superpox-99?”

“In many ways it was. And do you know how General Washington eventually stopped its spread?”

She looked to Tanner, but he only shook his head.

“Sorry, Dr. Jarvis, we didn’t get to that in school.”

“Washington forced healthy soldiers to rub the pus from smallpox blisters into open wounds.”

“Yuck,” she said, making a face. “Didn’t that make them sick?”

“On the contrary. The human body is a miraculous thing. Introduce a pathogen in the right way, and the body makes antibodies capable of combatting it. In this case, the bold move left most of his soldiers inoculated against the deadly virus.”

“Wow, we should have done that with Superpox-99.”

“I’m sure the equivalent was tried.”

“But it didn’t work?”

“No.”

“You seem to know an awful lot about viruses,” said Tanner.

“I should. I was once a world-class virologist.”

Tanner studied him. There was definitely something important about Dr. Jarvis.

“Were you working on a cure?” asked Samantha.

He slowly shook his head. “No, that wasn’t to be my role in this.”

“It must be really hard to cure. My mom had all kinds of people—” She stopped when she felt Tanner bump her chair. “All I’m saying is that lots of people were working on it. You shouldn’t blame yourself, Dr. Jarvis.”