S.W. Tanpepper's GAMELAND: Season Two Omnibus (Episodes 9-11) (94 page)

“It's not them you have to worry so much about,” Drew told them. “It's the living you have to watch out for.”

“The uninfected?” Ramon asked. “Why?”

“There are other illnesses,” Drew said, “opportunistic diseases which infect the weak-minded. Out there, in all this chaos, they are the ones who pose the greatest threat to you, more than the dead.”

 

“You want to tell me who you really are? And why you disappeared? And why everyone's been so interested in finding you?”

Drew waited a moment before responding with his own questions. “That's it? That's all you want to know?”

Lyssa removed the washcloth from Cassie's forehead, dipped it into the bowl of ice water, then replaced it. She didn't know if it would help. She figured it couldn't hurt. “Let's start with those first and go from there.”

Drew kicked off his shoes and leaned back in his chair. In the two weeks since he'd gone missing, he'd grown a thick beard, the kinky dark hair looking out of place beneath the thinning gray up top. He rubbed his fingers through it and sighed. The other man, the tall one who'd shown up with him, now leaned against the doorway. The boy imitated his casual stance.

“Where to start,” Drew muttered repeatedly to himself.

“How about the beginning?”

He waved his hand, as if whatever the beginning was didn't really matter. Or maybe it did matter, but it was just too big to explain in the time they had.

“I'm part of a small group of people who've been aware of the truth about the government's reanimation program for a couple years now.”

“The Omegaman Program?”

“Yes. The government — well, this group of very powerful private citizens — are behind it all. It's all run for profit and power. They own the government. Several governments, in fact. Hell, they own everything.”

“Then it was inevitable that this would happen.”

“I tried to prevent it a couple years ago. I failed. But I gained some valuable information about the disease and how we might be able to defeat it. It's what I've been working on ever since.”

He gave her a sad look. “I'm sorry I lied to you all this time. I needed an out-of-the-way place to do some research without fear of being discovered.”

“You used us. I'll never forgive you for that. But I can't say I blame you.”

He nodded, apparently satisfied. “The government has been carefully studying public perception and acceptance of reanimation. There was, for obvious reasons, a level of repugnance. But, over the years, as a result of a campaign of information leaks, we've become desensitized to the whole idea. They planned it so that when the truth finally did come out, getting us to accept it would be a relatively minor challenge. We're already too dependent on the Omegas to easily dismiss them. Most people wouldn't care anyway to find out they're dead, given that the Omegas are culled from Death Row prisoners and Lifers anyway.”

“Turning something bad into something good.”

“Quite right. It's not the first time the public's had the wool pulled over its eyes by an industry. The tobacco cartels conducted a systematic, decades-long campaign of deceit and denial regarding the harm cigarettes caused.”

“Yeah, well, cigarettes are illegal.”

“
Now
they are. But do you think they would be if somebody was able to demonstrate a tangible benefit to society? Look at how they decriminalized marijuana fifteen years ago.”

The stranger coughed. “Turning prisoners into soldiers. There's possibly no greater national benefit imaginable than that.” He tilted his head at the boy. “I thought I told you to keep an eye out front, in case anyone comes.”

The boy complained, but did as he was told.

Lyssa stared at the man for a couple seconds. She had a vague sense that she'd met him somewhere before. There was definitely something familiar about him. “And who are you?” she asked. “Scientist? Politician?”

“Former scientist,” Drew explained for him. “He's our—” He paused and leaned over to regard the man more carefully now. “I guess you could call him our own public relations officer.”

“Ha! Public relations,” the man said, shaking his head and chuckling wryly. “That's a new one.” He stepped forward and extended his hand. “Jeremy,” he told her. “Jeremy Burt, but these days I go by—”

“Jay Bird. You're the man on the radio. That's why I keep thinking I knew you. Most people think you're a crackpot.”

“It's a calculated strategy. I'm playing the government's game, hiding the truth inside innuendo. Except in my case, the truth is wrapped inside hyperbole.”

“Nobody takes you seriously.”

He pulled his hand back when she didn't take it. “On the contrary. Many people do believe, privately. If too many people openly supported me, I'd have been shut down much sooner by the very groups I'm exposing. As it was, they discounted me.”

“Sounds like they're trying to shut you down permanently.”

“Times have changed,” Drew offered. “And after today, I don't think you'll be able to find too many people who will think Jeremy is crazy.”

Lyssa shook her head, partly in dismay. “For months — years, even — you've been telling us the government was creating dead people. Nobody believed you. I didn't anyway.”

“On a subconscious level, I'll bet you did. How else would you explain their success in combat?”

“I don't know.”

“It's because they can't be killed, not like regular people.”

Drew leaned forward, shaking his head. “They can be killed, just like you or I can be. It's just not as easy to do it when you're faced with a creature that can take dozens of bullets, lose an arm and a foot and half their torso, and will still keep coming after you.”

“And they know no emotion,” Jeremy added. “No fear. No remorse. No hesitation. They're like machines.”

“They are machines,” Lyssa muttered. “All these months, we've been living, working, playing right next to them, the dead.”

“All a part of their strategy to inure us to having them around. ‘See?' they'll argue. ‘They're not dangerous at all. They're just machines, just like microwave ovens and power drills.' ”

“As long as we can control them, Jeremy.”

Lyssa stood up and walked over to the sliding door and looked out into the darkness of the back yard. “Marion told us he thought the outbreak was intentional, just mistimed. What did he mean by that? How would that help us accept the undead more?”

“I actually disagree with him on that account,” Drew said. “I think the outbreak was supposed to happen
after
the truth came out, after we'd already welcomed them into our society and our lives, after we'd seen how much of a convenience they could be. By then we'd be fully dependent and have to accept the risks. Automobiles are dangerous. Guns and chainsaws are dangerous. But they all help us do things, as long as we use them properly. The government would argue the outbreak occurred because someone didn't ensure the proper controls were applied, and that would open up other doors for them.”

“What sort of controls? What doors?”

“The Ames Research Consortium, ARC, have been pushing Congress with the idea that every living person should be implanted and connected to the Stream. They'll use the outbreak to reason that if we'd all been implanted already, very few people would've had to die. As soon as the first victim was identified, all they'd have to do is throw a switch, and immediately anyone who was infected would be stopped cold in their tracks. Without the ability to attack, the disease wouldn't spread.”

“It'll never happen now,” Lyssa argued. “People won't stand for it. And what's to stop them from flipping the switch anyway, controlling our minds while we're still alive?”

He shrugged. “I don't know.”

“I'm sure you can imagine how the people who created these implants would profit,” Jeremy added. “You wait and see. After the dust from this outbreak settles —
if
we're still around to see it — the government will pass regulations which mandates neural implantation as a protective measure. The alternative would be to ban reanimation technology. Well, I can't imagine that's going to happen. There's too much money and power at stake.”

“So, how can you fight this?”

“By creating a vaccine or cure, something that will destroy reanimation technology once and for all. That's what we've been trying to do, Lyssa, me and a select group of scientists scattered about the country. We even have people inside the research consortium. The Ames group renting space in the lab has two of our own people in it. Sudha was in on it as well. As soon as this new chemical arrived from Ames, we started having it characterized. There were high hopes it might be a cure, since it binds viral proteins specifically.”

“It's not?”

“Sadly, no. We still don't know what it's for.”

“What happened to Sudha?”

Drew's face clouded.

“Marion mentioned she wasn't infected.”

“She wasn't.”

“And her children?”

“Murdered. Beaten terribly by someone bent on evil. But it wasn't the virus. The police are claiming it was Sudha who did it, but she and the other boy, Ricky, are in hiding. I sent them away as soon as I got wind they'd contacted you. Unfortunately, we still don't know who killed them.” Anger flashed in his eyes.

“And what about the couple who went missing a few weeks ago? Marion said they were the first. How is that tied to us?”

“The package we received was delivered to a small airport south of Riverhead. The two were inspectors there. We believe the man somehow infected himself with the viral DNA, maybe while cutting open the package.”

He stood up and went over to Cassie, who was sleeping peacefully on the couch. Her face was pale, her lips slightly blue. She might sleep for another twenty hours, or she could wake in the next heartbeat. And when she did, she would likely be even more agitated, more aggressive than before.

Drew turned to face Lyssa. “The men who are looking for me, this man they call the Colonel and the others with him, are extremely dangerous. I'm sorry I disappeared like I did, but they were on my trail. I tried to warn you to get away, but I guess it was already too late.”

 

Cassie woke without warning. One moment she was lying there, her skin so pale it was almost translucent, the next she was sitting up so fast that the movement caused her head to snap forward on her neck with such force that her bones cracked. She jerked back and let out a loud, anguished wail.

“Honey?” Lyssa bent down. “Cassie? I'm here.”

The girl turned toward her and snarled.

“Get back!” Drew shouted, just as she lunged.

He flung Lyssa out of the way and reached for the girl. She growled and snapped her teeth at him, missing his hand by inches. “Shit! Jeremy! Get over here and help me out!”

Cassie tumbled from the couch, screaming and howling, thrashing her arms as if ants were crawling all over her body. Her hair was a tangled mess, covering her face. She threw herself against the couch, knocking it back against a table. A lamp tumbled to the floor.

“Grab her legs!” Drew shouted. He reached for her arms, but she snapped at him again and he pulled away.

“Cassie!” Lyssa shrieked.

“Get back,” Drew yelled at her. “Where's the boy?”

Jeremy took hold of Cassie's feet and tried to lift them to take away her leverage. Lyssa backed away, sobbing in horror. Drew had one of Cassie's hands and was trying to grab the other, but she was beating at him, scratching his face and arms. Long, white welts rose on his skin and quickly turned pink.

“No!” Cassie screamed. “No no
NO!
” Her fist connected with Drew's chin and he staggered back a step looking dazed.

Footsteps pounded toward them from the front and the boy appeared in the entryway, his eyes wide with fright. He stepped forward, but Lyssa held him back. What was happening with Cassie was terrifying, but she couldn't let the boy get hurt because of her. “Stay back,” she said. “I'll do it.”

She threw herself onto her daughter's body, managing to trap Cassie's arm beneath her long enough for Drew to snatch it.

“Watch her mouth,” he shouted.

They managed to get her back onto the couch, Jeremy sitting crosswise on Cassie's legs and Drew still holding her hands above her head. She arched her back and writhed, all the while growling and snapping. She'd let out a snarl and look at them with murder in her eyes, then utter a screech of such volume and pitch that Lyssa's skin crawled. She begged the girl to stop, but it didn't help.

If Cassie could hear her, if she could understand what her mother was saying, it was only in the deepest recesses of her mind, far from reason, far from the place where she might exert any control over her actions. The rabies had taken full control now, and it was only a matter of time before it completely destroyed her.

They tied her up using duct tape the boy found in the garage, then wrapped her body into a sheet and taped that. To Lyssa, she looked like a giant cocoon, except that the thing trying to emerge from it was something she no longer knew.

She remembered Marion's words to her earlier, back when they thought she'd been infected with reanimation virus, warning her that when Cassie came back, they wouldn't recognize her then. But this was much worse. Cassie was still alive. She was still in there somewhere, probably scared to death and unable to communicate.

The truth tore at Lyssa's mind. It broke her heart.

In between Cassie's screams, the boy informed them that the men had called from the hospital. “They said it's been taken over and they can't get inside.”