Spiral

when she saw what Orchid held in her palm. A glass vial filled with her grandfather’s glowing Fusarium fungus.

Orchid had taken some of the multicolored stringy fungus and mixed it together with a liquid in a test tube. With a hypodermic, she’d pulled the liquid up inside, then injected it into Maggie’s stomach.

Then Orchid had left.

Over the next few hours, Maggie’s shakes had continued, with mad visions of Crawlers tearing apart her son and corpses grabbing at her. But after a while, she’d noticed a change. The hallucinations were lessening.

The crazy itching, the homicidal fantasies. The corpses. All retreated further with every passing hour. Orchid would return for a moment, closely observing her movements. She would take Maggie’s temperature, as well as a blood sample, which she stored in a small refrigerator.

Maggie could tell that Orchid was pleased.

The glowing fungus.

“Your grandfather,” Orchid had said.

Maggie thought of the glowing fungus on the piece of wood: the prize that Liam had left at the end of the letterbox trail. That’s what they were meant to find. That’s what Liam had left for them. Her grandfather had created an antidote for the Uzumaki.

He had created an antidote for the most dangerous biological weapon ever developed. Because of it, she wouldn’t die here, unhinged and alone. The progress of the Uzumaki could be stopped. Because of her grandfather.

As that understanding took hold, Maggie was overcome with emotion. Profound awe, a tremendous respect and admiration for her grandfather, and a relief that soaked her entire body. He had succeeded in doing, all alone, what all the scientists at Detrick couldn’t accomplish.

But soon enough, Maggie’s relief dimmed. Slowly, a darker knowledge had taken root inside of her.

Orchid had the cure.

Connor’s law: you have the cure, you have a weapon.

MAGGIE PULLED AS HARD AS SHE COULD, IGNORING THE searing pain. One last, vicious yank and her hand popped free. She opened her fingers, the muscles obeying, though she could barely feel them.

A noise. The door opened at the top of the stairs.

She grabbed the tweezers off the table and quickly put her hand back down, as if her arm was still handcuffed.

She forced her breathing to slow, nice and easy.

One chance.

Orchid came down with a gun drawn, as she always did. She saw Maggie, ran her eyes up and down her, then holstered the gun in the small of her back and flipped the snap closed.

Maggie tried to control her breathing as Orchid took a fresh needle from the plastic pack, attached it to the syringe. To draw Maggie’s blood.

Maggie went over it again and again, rehearsing the moves in her head, trying not to completely freak out. Finally Orchid turned, needle in hand. She came toward Maggie as she had each time before.

Maggie watched her rhythm. Get ready. Get ready. Get ready.

Orchid stopped before her, syringe in hand.

Then Orchid hesitated, looking down to the floor.

Oh, shit. She had seen blood dripping off Maggie’s wrist.

Orchid looked up, into Maggie’s eyes. Maggie shifted her grip on the tweezers, holding them in her fist like an ice pick.

She went for it. With a great sweep of her arm, Maggie jammed the sharp end of the tweezers into Orchid’s face.

Orchid screamed, twisted her head and body to the right. That sealed Maggie’s fate. Maggie released the tweezers and reached for Orchid’s handgun. But when Orchid twisted to the right, her body blocked access to the gun. Either by chance or instinct, Orchid had cut off Maggie’s only hope.

Chance or instinct, it didn’t matter. Orchid stepped back, the tweezers impaled in her cheek, leaving Maggie grasping at air with her one free hand.

“I’ll kill you!” Orchid bellowed, blood streaming from the wound. She pulled out the tweezers and threw them across the room.

Orchid stepped back, wide-eyed and panting. She picked up a strand of rope and rushed Maggie, grabbed her free arm and tied it down. Maggie fought, but Orchid was much stronger.

Once Maggie was secured, Orchid picked up the glass sphere. Maggie was shocked to see that it was filled with Crawlers. Orchid tossed a spool of thin wire over a bar in the ceiling and rigged the ball so that it dangled over Maggie, inches from her face.

Orchid moved her gloved hand, and the Crawlers came to life. They were manic, running like a nest of crazed spiders. The noise was a high-pitched cacophony, thousands of razor-sharp legs scratching wildly at the glass.

Orchid roughly grabbed a hammer from a nearby bench and held it high, her eyes wide, her teeth bared. Her entire body shook with anger. “Your son is infected with the Uzumaki. Did you know that? He must be half dead by now. He’ll be dead by the time I deliver the cure to the Chinese and Japanese. Your protector, Jake? I’m going to shoot him in the face.”

Maggie fought against her restraints. Orchid loomed over her, snarling like a crazed animal. “Get ready for the moment. Your protector is dead. Your son is mad. The Uzumaki is spreading everywhere.” She clacked the hammer against the glass sphere. “I break this open and they fall on you, cut through your eyes, crawl inside your goddamn skull, and feast on your brain. And I will enjoy watching you die. I will revel in it.”

50

“WHERE IS MAGGIE?” JAKE DEMANDED, HIS HANDS ON KITANO’S throat. “Tell me, you son of a bitch- where is Maggie?”

“Kill me, but it will cost you Maggie Connor’s life,” Kitano said. He pointed to the phone. “Pick it up.”

“Tell me now.”

“I do not envy you,” Kitano said, a sudden clarity in his eyes, as if the demons had bizarrely departed. “You are a Tokko, but your sacrifice is hollow, nothing. It is your fate. Pick up the phone.”

Jake pushed Kitano away and grabbed the iPhone.

The screen flickered, sprang to life. The image was like a kick in the chest. A close-up of Maggie, her eyes darting, panicked, her mouth taped closed. Above her head hung the glass sphere filled with Crawlers. They were swarming inside, thousands of them.

Orchid’s voice came from the phone. “You’re the expert, Jake. How long will she last?”

“You hurt her and-”

Orchid cut him off. “Get Kitano here in fifteen minutes. Follow the UAV. Or in fifteen minutes she’s dead.”

THE TRAIL STEEPENED, AND JAKE HAD TO HALF DRAG, HALF carry Kitano. The UAV shadowed them, turning in circles a few hundred feet overhead. They were on a large island, ascending from the water’s edge up a thin, rocky trail. The rowboat was far below. Kitano’s delirium had returned, worsened. He was now shivering, raving in both English and Japanese, half frozen from the cold.

“I have been dead for sixty years,” he said, as Jake dragged him on. “My mother gave me the cloth, the death service. Since then I have been bones. I have been nothing. Wandering the earth for sixty-four years, desiring filth, eating filth, consuming filth. I have been a hungry ghost.”

“Shut up,” Jake said. Kitano refused to tell Jake anything more about Maggie or the release of the Uzumaki. His words occasionally made sense but more often were incoherent, rambling diatribes about the war.

Jake was increasingly certain Kitano had been infected. He had all the symptoms, the sweats, the smell, the manic delusions. But if he and Orchid were in league, then why would he be infected? Could Orchid have double- crossed him?