Apocalypse

two hours away, so be ready.”

Khloe went back to her table, and I went back to my food. I didn't know if I had made the right choice. But I knew Khloe – if she knew something was bothering me, she wouldn't let up until I told her.

Who knew? Maybe telling her would get it off my chest.

Maybe.

Chapter 4

After dinner, I went to the medical bay, entering the double doors. There were four operating tables, one set up in each quadrant of the room, all empty. The mystery man wasn’t here, so I knew he was in the back room, which was used for the extreme cases.

The air was cold, and stank of medicine. It chilled me as I walked across the bay, my boots sticking to the gray linoleum floor. I never really liked this place. It felt soulless and bare, and was colder than the rest of the Bunker.

The door to my dad’s office in the back left corner was open, which meant he was in. I went inside, and found him alone at his desk. He squinted with bespectacled eyes at his computer screen, his lab coat wrinkled and dirty.

He gave a small, tired smile.

“Alex…”

“You missed dinner.”

“Oh.” My father frowned. It was as if he had forgotten that this thing called “dinner” existed. “That’s funny. I’m not even hungry.”

“It’s alright. How is he? And who is he?”

“Not good. He’s not dead, but he is dying. And as far as who he is…we don’t know. Not yet, anyway. Comm lines with Bunker 114 are still down, as they have been for the past few days.”

This was not a warning sign in and of itself. Communication with Bunker 114 has always been spotty, especially recently.

“Did you stay up all night again?” I asked.

He didn’t answer that question. “I’m getting close, Alex. Very close. And this man might just have the key I’m looking for.”

“What do you mean?”

“The xenovirus.” My dad looked up at me. The tiredness was gone, and the energy had returned to his eyes. “I might be able to finally figure out how the damn thing works, Black Files or not.”

This wasn’t the first time for my dad to mention the Black Files. The Black Files are years of collective research on the xenovirus, archived in Bunker One, in Cheyenne Mountain, Colorado. Though many scientists worked on the project, it is the brainchild of Dr. Cornelius Ashton. It documents the xenovirus from its first discovery in the 2030’s, its various strains, and the flora it affects. The xenovirus first appeared at the Ragnarok impact site thirty years ago, suggesting it came from the meteor itself. From the crater came a strange, yet probably harmless, growth known as “xenofungus” – an organic swath of pink, purple, and orange that covers the ground and seems to thrive in any environment. Certain strains of the xenovirus also affect Earth plants. These plants, once infected, become twisted and live in symbiosis with the xenofungus. Areas taken over by the xenofungus and twisted plants are known as “Blights.” No Blights exist as far west as California, though they are common in the middle of the United States, which is closer to Ragnarok Crater.

My father is researching the xenovirus, hoping to discover how it works. My dad, in particular, is looking for a way to eradicate it within plant species – to cure it, if you will. My father believes the Black Files, if ever uncovered, might be the key to aiding his research.

There is only one problem: Bunker One disappeared overnight twelve years and is presumed offline – which means the Black Files are also inaccessible. To this day, no one knows what happened. The main theory is that the xenovirus infected the farms of Bunker One, causing all the food to become inedible. If this happened, then everyone there would have starved. But it begs the question: why didn’t Bunker One seek help from nearby Bunkers? And why wouldn’t they have told anyone? Whatever happened, there were no survivors. To this day, every expedition sent there has never returned. Our Bunker never sent anyone there, but other Bunkers have. Those Bunkers are gone now, too.

In any case, the Black Files are in Bunker One, locked away in what is probably an underground tomb.

My father thought the xenovirus was a byproduct of natural evolution. He said that mass extinction events, similar to the Ragnarok Extinction, stimulated a huge growth in biodiversity over the long run. He believed the xenovirus was the beginning of that growth – that it was life’s way of surviving given conditions of the meteor fallout, constant cold, and lack of water, as it seems perfectly adapted to Earth’s current climate.

The xenovirus isn’t a virus, really, but the name has stuck. It is an agent that attaches itself to DNA, copies it, and transposes it onto other life forms. The xenovirus mixes and matches genes of different plant species until it creates something completely new. It does this at random, as if trying to guess what might work. It’s hard to imagine how such a complicated life form arose so quickly, but my dad believes it is possible. The xenovirus is so one of a kind that my dad thinks it should be classified in its own kingdom.

I think the xenovirus is creepy. Watching the lab samples of xenofungus makes my skin crawl. There is something sinister about how fast it grows and swallows plants, sometimes overnight. It creates this pinkish goo that does not really have a name. My dad and I just call it “slime,” at least until we can think of something more creative.

“I ran tests on this man’s blood” my father said. “It’s full of microbes infected with the xenovirus. These microbes, in turn, are making him sick.”

“I thought the xenovirus wasn’t supposed to affect people.”

“The xenovirus isn’t infecting him directly. It’s infecting the microbes in his bloodstream, and these infected microbes are doing a number on him. One thing is clear; it is killing him. The injuries I could have fixed. But against this infection, I have nothing. He is hanging on by a thread. If nothing else, I hope having him here will give me some answers.”

“Is he contagious?”

“As long as you did not touch any infected areas, you should have nothing to fear. All the same, he is quarantined.”

All of a sudden, I felt sick with dread. Had I touched any infected areas? There might have been a point, as we were picking him up, when one of the wounds brushed my clothes. Other than that, I had just held the guy’s lower leg.

“I don’t think I got anything on me.”

“Good.” My dad stared at the top of his desk, his eyes hazy.

“Get some sleep,” I said. “You won’t figure anything out if you’re tired.”

“Yes,” he said. “I know. But I have to run some more tests. I’m the only one with the expertise to solve this. Who knows? If I hurry, maybe the patient’s life might be saved.”

“I just wonder who he is,” I said, “and what he had to tell us. It must have been important.”

“If Chan has found out anything from Bunker 114, he hasn’t let me know.”

“He couldn’t have been out there for no reason…”

My father smiled. “You are curious, Alex. Maybe too much for your own good.”

“Now, what is that supposed to mean?”

“It means keep your nose out of trouble.”

The problem was, I had already run into trouble. I thought of the woman. For all I knew, she was halfway to L.A., with plans to tell everyone where we were. Okay, that was a worst case scenario. However, what I knew weighed on me terribly.

I had to tell someone. If I couldn’t tell my dad, who could I tell?

“This guy wasn’t alone, Dad. There was a woman, not far away hiding behind a rock. I was the only one who saw her. She might have tried to kill him. She might have been with him at the time, I don’t know. I didn’t tell