world we’re living in. I was the carrot, and she was the stick. Well, guess what, folks? The stick got broken, and that’s not how things are going to work anymore. Those days are behind us.
This is the new deal: I’m going to tell you the unvarnished facts, no matter how nasty they are or how lousy they make you feel… and that’s it. If you want news that makes you feel good, go somewhere else. If you want wacky adventures, laughter, and an escape from your miserable life, go somewhere els.
If you want the truth, stay here. Because from here on out, that’s all I’m going to give you. No more carrot- and-stick. No more dancing monkeys. Just the truth. And if it kills us, well, at least this way we died for something. It’s better than the alternatives.
—From
Eleven
Becks was half a step behind me as I stopped at the end of Octopus Alley to take in the scene. Kelly was sitting in a folding chair with her hands clasped white-knuckle tight and resting on her knees. Alaric sat across from her, watching her like he thought she’d start making sense to him if he waited long enough. Best of luck with that, buddy. Maggie and Dr. Abbey leaned against the safety-glass window, watching this little tableau. Only Joe didn’t seem to be disturbed by the current mood in the room. He was sprawled at Dr. Abbey’s feet, gnawing on a massive length of animal bone.
Dr. Abbey offered me a nod. “Welcome back. Feeling better?”
“No, but I think I’ll live. That’s more than some people can say.” Kelly shot me a look. I ignored her. “Dr. Abbey, how secure is your network? If we made a call, could it be traced?”
“A call to, say, the CDC?” She straightened. “I have a few burn phones I’ve been saving for just such an occasion. Wait here.” Dr. Abbey made a complicated gesture toward Joe, who was in the process of standing, presumably so he could follow her. The dog subsided, staying where he was as she turned and strode out of the room.
Kelly looked at me with open alarm. “Shaun? What are you going to do?”
“Break your fucking jaw if you don’t shut up, right now,” I said, pleasantly enough. “I’m not ready for you to talk to me yet.”
“That means it’s time for you to be quiet,” said Maggie.
There was a time when I would have told her not to taunt the Doc. That time was over and done with. “Becks, why don’t you make sure the Doc stays quiet while I take care of things. I wouldn’t want her to get any funny ideas about saying hi.”
“My pleasure.” Becks drew her pistol and moved to stand behind Kelly, adopting an easy, comfortable-looking stance. She could stand that way all day if she needed to. I’d seen her do it in field recordings.
Kelly stared straight ahead, unflinching. If I hadn’t been so mad at her, I might have been impressed. As it was, I couldn’t really look at her without wanting to punch her face in.
Dr. Abbey walked briskly back down the hall and slapped a phone into my hand. “This is voice activated and will stay untraceable for about five minutes. Give it the number you want and tell it to dial. You might also tell it to set itself to speaker, since I’d like to know what my resources are being d to do.”
“Happily,” I said. I pulled my normal phone from my pocket and brought up Dr. Wynne in my address book, reading off the numbers in a slow, clear voice before saying, “Dial and set to speaker.”
The phone beeped. Three rings later, a CDC receptionist came on the line, perky as always as he said, “Dr. Joseph Wynne’s office, how may I direct your call?”
“This is Shaun Mason. Please connect me to Dr. Wynne.”
“May I ask the nature of your call?”
“No, you may not. Now connect me to Dr. Wynne.”
“Sir, I’m afraid I—”
Something in my tone must have made it clear that I wasn’t fucking around. The receptionist stammered an apology before the line gave a click, replacing his carefully cultivated blandness with the hum of hold music. That lasted only a few seconds. There was another click, and Dr. Wynne said, “Shaun, thank God. Now what the blazes is going on? You nearly gave poor Kevin an attack.”
“I’ll be sure to send a nice card and some flowers.” The acid in my voice surprised even me. I thought I was better trained than that. “I left several people in Oakland before the outbreak, so you’ll forgive me if I’m not on my best behavior.”
There was a pause as Dr. Wynne took in what I was saying: that Dave hadn’t been the only casualty of Oakland. It was a lie, sure, but it was one he had no reason not to believe. “Oh,” he said finally, voice gone soft. “I see. I’m so sorry to hear that.”
“It is what it is. Look, I’ve been doing some research, Dr. Wynne, and I wanted to confirm the results I’m getting. Got a second to answer a few questions for me?”
“I’m always happy to answer questions for you.”
“Maybe not this time.” I glared at Kelly as I spoke. Tears were starting to roll down her cheeks as she stared at the wall, expression otherwise remaining impassive. I didn’t care. Bitch deserved to cry. “Dr. Wynne, are reservoir conditions an immune response?”
He hesitated. When he spoke again, his tone was slower, more careful, and more heavily accented. “Well, I suppose it depends on who you ask. Some people think they might be.”
“What do
“I’m not sure that’s relevant.”
“I think it is. So what do you think? Are reservoir conditions an immune response or not?”
“Shaun…” He sighed heavily. “Yes. I think they are.”
“So if Dave had managed to scan and e-mail me some documents before Oakland went kerplooey, and if the people I’d gone to with them said that George would have recovered if I hadn’t decided to go ahead and ot her, would they be fucking with me? Or was that little slice of good news somehow omitted from my handbook?”
He was silent.
“Fine. Whatever.” Making my voice light was almost impossible, but I did it. Somehow. “I guess I’ll just publish everything I’ve got here, let people with a more scientific background than mine sort it out. Right?”
“Shaun…” He sighed again. “Yes. Yes, she might have recovered.
My vision flashed red. The CDC had George’s blood for weeks after her death. Logically, I knew they’d been using that time for tests, as well as decontamination, but I’d never really allowed myself to think about it. The idea of them doing God knows what to her had never been a pleasant one, and the more I knew, the less pleasant it became. “You’re an asshole,” I said, conversationally. “We trusted you.”
“Shaun—”
“Fuck off.” I hung up and tossed the burn phone back to Dr. Abbey. “Thanks.”
“You’re welcome.” She tucked the phone into the pocket of her lab coat. “Satisfied now?”
“No. But it’s a start.” I turned to Kelly. “It’s your turn to talk, Doc. Make it count.”
“I…”
I glared at her.
She talked.
She kept her eyes on the floor the whole time, her voice tight and bordering on monotone. It was like she was trying to convince herself that she was giving a lecture, rather than being interrogated at gunpoint. The few times she did glance up, her eyes were filled with guilt, darting between us almost too rapidly to be followed. Then she’d look down again, her monotonous monologue never stopping. The expression on Dr. Abbey’s face—calculating and predatory—probably didn’t help. Then again, the fact that Becks was holding a gun pointed at the Doc’s head probably helped even less.
“The first reservoir conditions were identified in 2018. Four years isn’t long in human terms, but it’s centuries in virus generations. The Kellis-Amberlee virus had been replicating the whole time. Spreading. Changing. I mean,
