Jonathan Kellerman - The Web

He put on his glasses.

"Instead," he said. The word tapered off. He put a hand on his chest and inhaled several times. " Instead, I thanked him and smiled back. Invited the bastard and his wife to my quarters the next night for bridge. Now that I knew what he was capable of, I felt I needed to protect Barbara. And Pam- she was only a baby herself. But on the sly, I began checking the others who'd been injected. Most looked fine, but a few of the adults weren't feeling well- vague malaise, low-grade fevers. Then some of the children began spiking high fevers."

He dug a nail into his temple. "There I was, the kindly doctor, reassuring them. Dispensing analgesics and ordering them to drink as much as they could in the hope some of the toxins would be flushed out. But unable to tell them the truth- what good would it have done? What curse is worse than knowing your own death is near? Then another child died suddenly of a brain seizure. Another family supposedly flown out overnight, and this time Hoffman informed me my involvement with the paradise needle was terminated, I was to attend to all base personnel except the vaccinated families. New doctors had arrived for them, three whitecoats from Washington. When I protested, Hoffman ordered me to begin a new project: reviewing twenty years of medical files and writing a detailed report. Busywork."

"Sounds familiar."

He smiled weakly. "Yes, I'm a horrid sneak; being direct has always been difficult for me. I used to rationalize it as the result of growing up an only child in a very big house. One wanders about alone, acquires a taste for games and intrigue. But perhaps it's just a character flaw."

"What happened to the rest of the vaccinated patients?" said Robin.

"More were growing ill, and rumors had finally gotten out on the base about some kind of mysterious epidemic. Too much to keep secret, so the doctors from Washington issued an official memo: an unknown island organism had infiltrated Stanton, and strict quarantine was imposed. The sick people were all isolated in the infirmary, and quarantine signs were nailed to the doors. Understandably, everyone gave the place a wide berth. Then I heard a rumor that all the vaccinated families would be shipped back to the Walter Reed Hospital in Washington for evaluation and treatment. I had a pretty good idea what that meant."

He pulled down on his cheeks.

"I sneaked over to the infirmary one night after midnight. One attendant was on guard at the front door, smoking, not taking the job seriously. Which was typical of the base. Nothing ever happened here. Everyone had a slipshod attitude. I managed to sneak in through a rear door, using a skeleton key I'd lifted from Hoffman's office. The smug bastard hadn't even bothered to put on a new lock."

Reaching out, he grabbed the grapefruit, clawing so hard juice flowed through his fingers.

"Some of them," he said softly, "were already dead. Lying in cots… unconscious, rotting. Others were on the verge of losing consciousness. Sloughed skin was everywhere… limbs… the room stank of gangrene."

He began crying, tried to stop, then to hide it. It took a while before he resumed, and then, in a whisper.

"Bed after bed, crammed together like open coffins… I could still recognize a few of their faces. No attempt was being made to treat them- no food or medication or IV lines. They were being stored."

The grapefruit, a mess of pulp and rind.

"The last ward was the worst: dozens of dead children. Then, a miracle: some of the babies were still alive and looking relatively healthy. Dermal lesions, malnutrition, but conscious and breathing well- their little eyes followed me as I stood over their cribs… I counted. Nine."

He stood again and circled the room unsteadily.

"I still don't understand it. Perhaps the relatively low dosage had protected them, or something in their newborn immune systems. Or maybe there is a God."

Wringing his hands, he walked to the refrigerators and faced a copper-colored Kenmore.

"Sometimes it's good to be a sneak. I got them out. Four the first time, five the second. Swaddled in blankets so their cries would be muffled, but it wasn't necessary. They couldn't cry. All that came out was croaking."

Facing us.

"The vaccine, you see, had burned their vocal cords."

He picked up his pace, stalking an invisible victim.

"I had no place to take them but the forest. Thank God it was winter. Winter here is kind, warm temperatures, dry. I'd discovered the caves hiking. Had always liked caves." Smile. "Secretive places. Used to spelunk when I was at Stanford, did a senior thesis on bats… I didn't think anyone else knew of them, and there was nowhere else to go."

"What about the land mines?" I said.

He smiled. "The Japanese had plans to lay mines, but they never quite got around to it."

"The night of the knives?"

He nodded.

"You spread the rumor?" I said.

"I planted the seed. When it comes to rumors, there's never a shortage of gardeners… Where was I?… I placed them in a cave. Not this one, I didn't know about this one. Or the tunnel. Once they were secreted, I checked them over, cleaned them up, gave them water and electrolytes, returned to the infirmary, disassembled their cribs, scattering the parts in the hope they wouldn't be missed. And they weren't. The entire place was a charnel house, corpses and dying people had slid onto the floor, lying on top of one another, body fluids dripping. I'll never forget the sound. Even now, when it drizzles…"

His face took on that absent look and for a moment I thought he'd slip somewhere else. But he started talking again, louder:

"Then, a complication: one of the adults had survived, too. A man. As I was finishing with the layettes he came in, reaching for me, falling on me. I nearly died of fright- he was… putrid. I knew who he was. Aircraft mechanic, huge fellow, enormously strong. Perhaps that's why the symptoms hadn't taken him over as rapidly. Which isn't to say he wasn't gravely ill. His skin was pure white- as if bleached, one arm gone, no teeth, no hair. But able to stagger. He hadn't been a good man. A bully, really, with a vicious temper. I'd patched up men he'd beaten. I was worried he'd have enough strength to somehow set off an alarm, so I dragged him out too. It nearly killed me. Even starved, he must have weighed a hundred and eighty pounds. It took so long to get him across the base. I was sure some sentry would see me. But I finally made it.

"I put him in another cave, away from the babies, and tended to him as best I could. He was shaking with chills, skin starting to slough. Trying to talk and growing enraged at his inability… He kept looking at the stump where his arm had been and screaming- a silent scream. Rabid anger. His eyes were wild. Even in that condition, he frightened me. But I calculated it would only be hours."

Lurching toward a chair, he sat.

"I was wrong. He lasted five days, fluctuating between stupor and agitation. He'd actually get up and lurch around the cave, injuring himself horribly but remaining on his feet. His premorbid strength must have been superhuman. It was on the fifth day that he managed to escape. I'd been at the base, got back that night and he wasn't there. At first I panicked, thinking someone had discovered everything, but the babies were still in their cave. I finally found him lying under one of the banyans, semiconscious. I dragged him back. He died two hours later."

"But not before Joseph Cristobal saw him," I said.

He nodded. "The next day, Gladys came to my office and told me about Joe. One of the other workers at the estate had told her Joe had a fit, claimed to have seen some kind of forest devil."