This was a fucking biocontainment team.
The Hatchet Clans were outnumbered, out gunned.
They died in numbers. I could hear Janie and Mickey shouting out. I scrambled over the ground, found a dying Clansman and took his machete. He grabbed my leg, snarling at me. I brought the machete down on him again and again. I didn’t stop until the blade was gored with blood and he stopped moving.
And when I turned back to race to the girls, two men were standing there in their orange space suits. I could not see their faces through the visors. I could only hear the sound of their respirators hissing in and hissing out. They had their guns aimed right at me-H amp; K machine pistols, I thought, the kind counterterrorist units used. They did not lower them.
Speaking through an external speaker with a modulated, artificial voice, a man said: “Drop your weapon please.”
I was overwrought, I suppose. My life had disintegrated in the last twenty-four hours. I wanted blood. I wanted payback. I wanted some sweet, clean revenge. I suppose I must have looked dangerous with a bloody machete upraised to attack. “But my friends…they fucking killed my friends…” I said.
“They’re dead now, the Clans are dead,” the voice told me. “They can’t hurt you anymore.”
I could hear an occasional report of a submachine gun as the Hatchet Clans were mopped up. Soon, I didn’t even hear that. There was only silence. The murmuring sound of voices coming through speakers.
I dropped the machete.
They did not lower their weapons. A couple others cut Janie and Mickey loose. They came over to me, eyes despairing and full of questions.
“Come with us,” the man said.
“What do you want? We haven’t done anything,” I told him. “Where are you taking us?”
“To the place you wanted to go,” he said. “And tonight…tonight you will meet that which you have been running from.”
I felt a chill run up my spine. We had been rescued, yes, but I had a nasty feeling we were about to be given to something far worse. After all the selecting I had done, I had the nastiest feeling that it was I who had just been selected.
“What the hell is this?” Mickey said to me.
But I didn’t have a fucking clue.
12
Of course, I did. In a way I did.
This is exactly what bathrobe guy had been talking about that day in Gary: They came in silver buses. I saw ‘em. They had orange suits on. They took Reverend Bob and threw him in the bus. I remembered how intrigued Price had been when we related the story to him after the silver bus hit us in Des Moines. He knew what it meant. Even then he knew exactly what it had meant.
Janie, Mickey, and I were taken in a sliver, windowless bus out to an Army base beyond Bitter Creek. This was The Creek. It sat behind a high chainlink fence, actually a series of them with dog runs between, a collection of low white fabricated buildings attached to a larger brick complex. Numerous outbuildings were scattered about. The signs were everywhere: U.S. GOVERNMENT PROPERTY ABSOLUTELY NO ADMITTANCE. And my favorite: DEADLY FORCE AUTHORIZED.
We were taken into one of the buildings at gunpoint. Inside, it was clean with electric lights. I even saw operating computers. It was like going back in time a couple years. For in this complex, the old world was still operating, smoothly, efficiently. We saw other forms in orange space suits mulling about. Many of them stopped what they were doing when they saw us. Several backed away like they were afraid of us.
“I demand to know what this is about,” Janie said. “We haven’t done a damn thing. What do you want with us?”
Her question went unanswered. This was a military operation, it seemed. We’d get answers if and when they decided to give them to us. We were ushered through a series of hissing airlocks that had to be opened with plastic ID cards. There were guards with guns behind every one. We went through two more airlocks, the signs announced BIOSAFETY LEVEL ZERO and then BIOSAFETY LEVEL 2. Each time the door slid open, I could feel the difference in air pressure. It was like you were being sucked into the room. It was what Price had been talking about: negative air pressure. At Level 2 we were bathed in blue ultraviolet light. Next, we climbed into an elevator and went down quite a ways. When we climbed out a sign said BIOSAFETY LEVEL 3: STAGING AREA. There were signs around that read: DECON. Which I think referred to the chemical showers you had to go through before going in and particularly when you came out.
We passed through Level 3 and then we reached the big, bad one that price had told me about. There was a stainless steel door before us and just the sight of it made my guts crawl up into my chest:
EXTREME CAUTION
We went through another airlock and into an anteroom with more Decon showers, ultraviolet light sterilizers, and hoses that sprayed chemicals-judging from the signs-on you with the touch of a button.
Janie, Mickey, and I pretty much stuck together. We felt like monkeys going into a test chamber and that’s exactly what we were. We were terrified. More figures in orange suits waited for us. Several had blue suits on with airlines hooked to overhead pumps that moved as they did, sliding on tracks. All we could hear was the hissing sounds of respirators.
They echoed and echoed until it sounded like you were living in an iron lung.
The walls were gray, hoses hanging from the ceiling. Every corner and crack and crevice were caulked thickly with some kind of goo, probably to keep anything from slipping out. There was a series of rooms leading off the first as we were led deeper into the maze. I saw labs and animal containment areas lined with cages. We were brought into a small room with three plastic contour chairs against the wall, each separated by about five feet so you could not hold the hand of or touch the person next to you.
We were told to sit and we did.
We didn’t even dare move.
Two figures with submachine guns watched over us. Then the third one who’d led us in motioned to them and all three left. A clear plexiglass door slid shut and locked into place.
“What the hell is going on here?” Mickey said, rising to her feet.
Right away there was a beeping alarm. A voice over an intercom said: “Please stay seated.”
Mickey sank back down.
Janie and I exchanged looks of absolute dread. We smiled thinly at each other, but there wasn’t much hope. We knew we were screwed.
The door slid open and a man in an orange suit came in. He carried a small black metal box with him. The guards had returned.
“All this,” I said, “is unnecessary. We are not infected with anything. You don’t have to keep us down here. We’re not sick.”
“Aren’t you?” the voice said.
“No we’re not!” Janie said. “Please, get us out of here!”
“That’s our intention,” he said. “Unfortunately, only two can leave. One will join us.”
“Fuck this!” Mickey said, jumping up, the alarm going off again. “I’m not a fucking guinea pig.”
The man turned to her. “Take the female. She’s the one.”
“Stop it,” I said. “This is insane!”
