immune, while the captain’s daughter had not, was definitely something that needed to be investigated.
In many ways, the girl, Josie Ash, was the most interesting. By all accounts, she had gone through the same stages of the infection as the other victims, but not long after she’d been brought in, she had started to show improvement. And now, seven hours later, her temperature was almost normal.
Still, it bothered Dr. Karp. If the immunity affected the sexes differently, any vaccine they might be able to develop from the Ash family could potentially have the same drawbacks. He was sure the female population of the project would be far from excited if they had to go through the same hell the Ash girl had. There was also the very real possibility that, though the girl was now getting better, she might have suffered some internal damage to her organs while the disease had a hold of her. That would be unacceptable.
No, the gender component would have to be identified and eliminated. If that turned out to be impossible, then KV-27a would not be the answer and further testing would have to take place.
“Dr. Karp,” one of the technicians said.
The doctor acknowledged the man with a look.
“We’ve lost the patients in cells 18 and 31. Five other cells are trending toward termination in the next thirty minutes, and the remaining ten sometime over the following two hours.”
Dr. Karp nodded once, then looked back at Captain Ash. He was sitting on his bunk now, his head in his hands. His heart rate had come down a bit, and despite the fact they had been pumping the virus directly into his cell since he arrived, there was still no sign he was getting sick.
“Call me if anything changes,” the doctor said.
“Yes, sir.”
Dr. Karp walked out the door and down the hallway toward the rooms where the children were being held.
As soon as the girl was stable enough, they would move the two Ash kids to a facility outside San Francisco, where observations could continue and the doctor’s team could do more extensive testing to determine the source of the immunity. A day, maybe two at most.
Their father, on the other hand, would not be making the trip. A team would continue to keep him under observation there at Barker Flats, waiting to see if the virus broke through and compromised his system. Dr. Karp was convinced it wouldn’t, but they had to do their due diligence. If in a week, maybe ten days tops, Ash was still healthy, he would be terminated and his body thoroughly examined
Dr. Karp reached the boy’s room first. The guard at the door opened it without being asked, then stood aside.
Brandon Ash was sitting at a small table, an untouched bowl of cereal in front of him.
“You should eat,” the doctor said.
“I’m not hungry,” Brandon mumbled.
The doctor approached the table. “I have good news.”
Instantly, the boy brightened. “My father?”
“Your sister, Josie.”
“Oh,” the boy said, unable to keep his disappointment completely out of his voice.
“She’s getting better. You’ll be able to see her soon.”
“Good. I’m…I’m glad. But…” He hesitated. “What about my dad?”
Though the doctor was often short and gruff with those who worked for him, he knew how to turn on the bedside manner when needed. He knelt down next to Brandon and put a hand on the boy’s shoulder. “I’m not going to lie to you, Brandon, he’s not doing well at the moment. But we’re hopeful that he’ll be better soon, just like Josie.”
“Can I see him?”
“That wouldn’t be a good idea right now. There are a lot of doctors and nurses working on him, and I’m sure you don’t want to get in their way.”
Brandon looked down at the table and shook his head. “No. I don’t want to do that.”
“As soon as you
Brandon tried to smile. “Thank you.”
Dr. Karp patted him on the shoulder again then stood up. “Now, eat your breakfast. We don’t want you getting sick, too.”
3
That night would be burned forever in Ash’s mind. He knew there would be no escaping it. His wife, his daughter, his son-all dead. But as utterly painful as that realization was, it was actually the good memories that made him want to curl into a ball in the corner.
Wrestling with Brandon in the backyard.
Reading to Josie as she leaned against him, hanging on his every word.
Kissing Ellen. Holding Ellen. Loving Ellen.
There was a trip they had all taken once that started out badly, but it turned out to be the best vacation they’d ever had. He’d been stationed at Fort Irwin then, outside Barstow, California-ironically only about a hundred miles south of Barker Flats. They’d meant to go to the Grand Canyon but only made it as far as Needles, California, when the van they’d borrowed from a neighbor broke down. Repairs would take several days, which pretty much ruled out sticking to their plan.
The owner of the auto shop was a former Marine. When he found out Ash was in the service, he made a few calls and was soon driving the Ash family the forty or so miles to a vacation house on Lake Havasu his brother-in-law owned.
They spent the days swimming in the lake, the evenings barbecuing, and the nights playing games. Ash became the king of Chinese checkers that trip, while Josie was crowned Miss Monopoly.
One day they even rented a Jet Ski, and Ash took turns taking the kids out on the water. Ellen was a nervous wreck every time she watched them head away from shore, but by the end, even she was smiling and laughing. Ash never did get her on that Jet Ski, though. She’d claimed someone had to stay on shore in case something went wrong, but he knew that wasn’t the real reason. She had a fear of water, something she’d had since she was a kid.
He missed that about her.
He missed everything.
Over a week he had been in his cell, a week of talking with no one but the voice from the speaker, and not actually seeing anyone at all. When he woke each morning, he found a day’s worth of food sitting against the wall. He tried pretending to sleep a few times so he could catch whoever was bringing it in, but he could never keep his eyes open long enough. He suspected they were giving him some sort of sleeping drug, either through his food or, more likely, through the air.
The cell that was his world consisted of a cot, a toilet, a sink, and four thick cement walls. The only door was opposite the toilet, but there was no handle on the inside, just a smooth metal surface.
He figured he’d been put in the cell on the chance he’d been infected. It was probably the nearest isolation room available. After all, he’d held his daughter in his arms. Brandon had, too. He’d been healthy when Ash last saw him, but he’d apparently contracted whatever it was before they were taken from the house. So, logically, Ash should be next.
Only, despite the fact that everyone he loved was dead, here he was still breathing.
He felt despair and guilt and loss, but none was as strong as the hatred he felt toward whoever had done this to his family, his friends, his country. There was no way he would ever believe this was not a planned attack. Someone had targeted American soldiers and their families.
Perhaps they already had. But if that were the case, no one had told him. In fact, no one had told him much of anything.
Each day, the man on the speaker would ask him questions like: “How are you feeling?” “Do you have any
