The Galilee Falls Trilogy (Book 3): Fall of Heroes (32 page)

“It’s my pleasure,” I whisper. “It’s my
honor
.”

The door opens again and two spacesuits come in with a plastic casket with a HEPA filter on top. Oh, God. Not yet. There’s still so much to say. They have to physically pull me from his side so he can climb into that fucking box. As they seal the lid, it’s as if I’m the one who cannot breathe. Somehow Jem maintains a small smile for us all. A brave face. I want to scream, punch, cry all at once. This is it. It could be. No. Please. I all but float outside my body as they wheel his clear coffin out of the room. It’s the only way I can handle this. The only way. The only way to keep from losing my fucking mind. His smile never wavers. His eyes never leave my stricken face. I want to touch him. Crawl in there with him. “I love you,” he mouths before coughing again.

“I love you too. For a million nights and a million more.”

He presses his hand to the plastic, and I place mine over his all the way to where Dr. Vaugh reviews papers on a clipboard. That’s all Jem is to him, paperwork and a disease. Who is going to be in his corner? Keep the nurses in line and doctors attentive? Hold his hand and make him laugh when he’s in pain or terrified? I’m stuck in here while he…

“I need to go with him,” I tell the spacesuits.

“Ms. Fallon,” a nurse says.

“My tests are clean, right? I’m not contagious anymore? Then you have no right to keep me prisoner anymore. I want to go with him.
Now.
”

“Ms. Fallon, we require further testing before clearing you—”

“Joanna,” Jem tries.

“I want to go with him.”

“And that is not possible, Ms. Fallon,” Vaugh snaps before looking at his assistants. “Nurses, let’s get the case through decon. The ambulance is standing by.”

“Yes, doc—”

“I’m going with him!” I shout. “I-I’m—”

Ignoring me, they wheel him to the next room. The moment he’s out of sight, my lungs seize up along with every muscle in my body and fold of my mind. I try to draw in air but the tall roadblock of terror and panic won’t allow any to pass, which increases the strength of both those bastards. My legs won’t support myself much longer. The spots will begin soon. After another attempt at air with no success, the tidal wave of fear crashes into me. One of the nurses rushes over to me, getting right in my face, hers still behind the helmet but I wouldn’t be able to hear her words anyway. Jem’s the only one who can help me now. He presses my hand to his heart and stares into my eyes, ordering me to break the block. I can’t. I can’t. He’s gone. He may never return. I can’t breathe. I can’t do this anymore. I can’t. I—

Oblivion tags me out.

*

Oh, why couldn’t it have been a dream?

I open my eyes to find myself back in an exam room. At least there’s a friendly face by my side reading the newspaper. “What happened?” I ask Harry or really croak at him.

He sets down the paper and smiles. “Hi. Welcome back. How do you feel?”

I manage to sit up. “Embarrassed. I haven’t had an episode that bad since Cain.”

“I think this whole situation ranks up there, don’t you? I’m shocked we’re all not dropping like flies from panic attacks.”

“I guess. It’s still fucking embarrassing. How long was I out for?”

“Two hours. Jem told them to wake me so I could watch over you right before they took him to the hospital.”

“The man’s dying and he’s still the one taking care of me.”

“The nurse just came in a few minutes ago. She told me he’s resting comfortably at the hospital.”

“I have to get out of here, Harry. I need to be there with him. He might not—” I snap my mouth shut. I’m not putting that out into the universe.

Harry takes my hand. “He’ll be okay. He’s strong.” Harry squeezes my hand. “And he has everything to live for.” My ex releases my hand and sits back in the chair. “Plus, you may be sprung sooner rather than later. There’s been an update on our progress. Seems like whatever was in that Biodyne serum worked on you, Jackson, and Hernandez. You’re no longer contagious, and your viral load is almost nil. You should be released in a few hours.”

“What about everyone else? What about you?”

“The rest of us are running low grade fevers, have headaches, muscle aches, and Kowalski’s been coughing since he woke up.”

“You’re sick?” I ask, my still tender stomach and lungs seizing again.

“They’ve assured us there’s a seventy percent chance we’ll only experience a standard flu.”

“Seventy percent?”

“I’ll take those odds, Jo.”

Another one putting on a brave face for the broken woman. “Guess it’s a good thing the people who did this don’t hate all of humanity, just supers.”

“Good for some,” Harry says solemnly.

Time for more bad news. “They knocked us out, Harry. They found out we were getting close and wiped away every record, every search of Motoneslly. Blew up their offices too. We’re fucked.”

“When the hell did this happen?”

“After we went to bed. What we have is pretty much all we’re getting which means we’ve got fuck all. Even with the doctors. I think I know who they are, but there’s nothing more on them that we can find. And Jem’s…” Fuck, I’m crying again. I swat away the tears. “
Millions
could die. Hell, they’ve probably already released the virus by now, and we’re no closer to finding them then when this whole shit show began almost a month ago.”

“We do. We have suspects, we have evidence, we have dozens of avenues to walk down now. Biodyne. The airline. The doctors. They can’t all be dead ends. Don’t lose hope, Jo. I’m not.”

Staring at my friend, my mentor with a thin layer of sweat on his fevered brow, trying to keep on a brave face, my stomach twists, this time from guilt. He’s the sick one, the newlywed with a thirty percent chance of never seeing his wife again. Never holding his son or daughter. I know I can be selfish, but this is beyond the fucking pale. I force the misery, the hopelessness behind my mask once more. “You’re right. We’ll get them and make them pay for this.”

“Damn right,” he says with a nod. I nod back. “Now, if you’ll excuse me,” he says, rising from the chair, “I’m going to let them know you’re up. They have more tests.”

“They can remove my liver if it helps you all get better.”

“
Your
liver?”

“You have a point there,” I say, even managing a smile.

He smiles back before departing. I drop the front and fall back on the gurney. Two more hours stolen. God knows how many more while I’m stuck in here getting tested again. At least I get to leave this prison soon. Three out of nine. Only one third of us helped by the serum. Not great. Not enough to pass federal regulations for wide use. If they release the virus now it won’t do any good. Non-supers could die too. The elderly and children. The weak. Maybe that’ll keep the genocidal sociopaths from jumping the gun on spreading it. God, I hope so.

More painful tests follow. Tubes stuck down my throat, a spleen and lymph nodes biopsied, the worst of all bone marrow. I have to scream into a pillow for that last one. They’re going to use it all to try and develop a serum and vaccine. Work fast assholes. I have to lie on the gurney in horrendous pain despite the pain meds—there go weeks of sobriety—before they finally come in with good news instead of needles and agony. They have officially verified I am no longer contagious and have no legal right to keep me here anymore. I just need someone to come get me and keep an eye on me for the rest of the day after the biopsies. V doesn’t answer her phone. I could call my aunt and uncle, but they’ll follow the instructions to a T and I’d go from one prison to another. Which leaves…

“They’re letting you out?” Justin asks over the phone.

“Yeah. You have a car, right? You can come get me? It’s perfectly safe to come to the gate. You won’t even have to leave the car.”

“Okay. I’m on my way. See you soon.” He hangs up.

Since all my old clothes are contaminated both old and current, they help me undress before forcing me into another decon shower after which I’m blasted by UV lights for a few minutes, wheeled into another clean room where I put on a new set of sweats and socks, and wait for my ride. This is how I leave my own house, pushed in a wheelchair in borrowed clothes. They won’t even give me back my purse. More oncoming hell. A trip to the DMV.

A police cruiser blocks the end of the driveway down at the gate. I’m surprised the press hasn’t arrived. There’s a tarp across the driveway to hide the huge lab from the street view, but there are a half dozen cars lined up to the tarp. People must think I’m having a party. One of the officers in the squad car climbs out and runs up to me and my wheelchair chauffeur, taking over the duty. She has better things to do then push me. A gold Sedan waits on the other side of the gate which opens for us when we reach the squad car. Justin leaps out of the Sedan, a sight for these beyond fucking sore eyes. Both men help me into the warm car. Justin gets in and a second later, without a glance back at his former home, drives us away.

“What happened? Why were you in a wheelchair?”

“Bone marrow biopsy. Lymph node and spleen too. They might need me to do it again. We need to stop by a pharmacy. They gave me prescriptions for Percocet, an immune booster, and Ativan.”

“No problem. I’ve been staying at Jem’s penthouse. I’ll take you home first.”

Home. It isn’t home without him there. “I don’t have clothes there.”

“Then I’ll pop over to your hotel and get some while I’m out.”

“First, take me to Our Lady Hospital. Jem—”

“I know. He called me. He sounded good. But there are no visitors allowed.”

“Well, good thing I’m on the board. Think they’ll make an exception. I’ll make some calls.”

“Just take it easy. You’ve been through hell. You need to rest.”

I turn up the heat. “The wicked aren’t resting so neither will I. What did I miss?”

“Not much. They’re still processing the burnt offices and empty apartment. We did locate two employees through social media. IPD are bringing them in for questioning. And those remaining doctors on our list, three friends are traveling to India to investigate as I speak. More are on stand-by if the three need them. The Feds are also about to execute warrants for Biodyne’s financial records.”

“What about the medical supply company? Anything on the shipping forms?”

“GFPD is running them down. I’ve been trying to cull the list.”

“So we have nothing.”

“The press is getting interested, so we should be getting more leads. Biodyne and Motoneslly are firmly on everyone’s radar. And you’re healthy. I’d say we’re doing pretty damn good.”

“Tell that to Jem. And Harry. And all the others still in that damn house worried they’re about to die.”

“You always were a ray of sunshine, Jo.”

“My fiancée’s dying in the hospital. A virus that can kill millions is about to be released, if it hasn’t been already. And I have a hole in my hip that aches like a motherfucker. Point me to light, rich boy.” A small smile flashes across his face for some reason when I utter those last two words. “What?”

“Nothing,” he says, smile returning again for another moment. “Wait, did you say ‘fiancée?’”

“Yeah. We…yeah. Last night.”

“Oh, my God. Shit, Jo. Congratulations,” he says with a huge, wide grin.

“Don’t plan the bachelorette party yet. That altar is a thousand miles away and growing farther by the moment.”

“But I am in charge of the bachelorette party? Good to know,” he says with a smirk. “I’ll start looking around for male strippers right away.”

“Ha ha ha,” I say sarcastically.

“Joanna Fallon. Getting married.” He shakes his head. “They must be having a run on ice skates in hell right now.”

“Shut up.”

We ride in silence, save for the radio, the rest of the way home. Traffic, weather, local news about shootings and proposed tax hikes. All so inconsequential. No one has any idea what’s coming. Billions sick. Millions dying. I say a silent prayer to whoever’s listening that it’s not already too late.

“Don’t think about it,” Justin says as my apartment building comes into view.

“What?”

“How much is on the line. How many lives hang in the balance. It’ll paralyze you. We’re doing this for
him
. For the people in that mansion. We’re fighting for them. All else is incidental.”

How did he know? It always amazes me when he does that. Reading my mind. Knowing what to say to make it better. I could always do the same with him. I’m just shocked that connection’s still there.

That’s the only time he speaks until we reach the building. We park in the underground garage, and Justin helps me shamble to the elevator, my hip throbbing with every step. He could carry me but knows I’d never agree. I bear it the elevator ride up, the walk down the hall, and into the penthouse. Home. It’s all the same. The couch we bought together. The skylight we’d lie under and stare out at the stars. The happiest place on earth. Now it’s just a cold shell. A house not a home. Not without him here.

“I need to catch up,” I say as I hobble in. “Where’s Doris Jr?”

“Let’s set you up in the bedroom, yeah? Better for your hip. I’ll get everything sorted before I leave.”

“Thanks.”

Justin follows me to the master bedroom and helps me into bed before retrieving water, aspirin, a telephone, pen, pad, and Doris Jr. Quite the nest. After asking me three times if I was okay, Justin finally leaves. He is such a mother hen. When I got pneumonia a few years back he took off work to watch over me. Warming up soup, renting us movies, making sure I took all my meds. When he had to attend a meeting he sent over Dobbs to take over nursing duty. He must have been going out of his fucking mind with me in quarantine. And I was such a bitch to him. Neither of us does helpless well.

First things first. I put calls into Danforth Mills and Dr. Westfield, Head of Attending, to beg them for access to the Infectious Ward. Neither answers so I leave desperate messages for both. Threatening comes later. Next I’m transferred to Jem’s ward where a nurse informs me my fiancée’s being examined, and he’ll call me later. Now back to work. I review the new reports, making a few notes, but nothing inspires much confidence. Halfway through the phone rings. “Hello?”