Jonathan Maberry - Patient Zero

I waited.

He sighed. “I let myself get blindsided. If you’re expecting me to make excuses or try and worm my way out of it, then forget it. If you want to bounce me off the team then go right ahead.”

“You think that’s what this is all about?”

“Isn’t it? You called me in here, you make me wait here for an hour before you come in, and then you sit there giving me the look. What else could it be about? Or… are you going to give me shit about what happened during the firefight?” I said nothing, so he made a face. “Shit. Look… sir… this zombie stuff may not bother you but it’s scaring the living shit out of me. We were losing in there and I started thinking about what was going to happen. I could see myself being bitten. After seeing those kids yesterday I can’t get it out of my head. So, yeah, I get a case of the shakes. My hands are still shaking. I saw one of those walkers coming up fast and I took the shot. You moved right as I fired and the bullet passed close. Things were getting pretty hairy in there and I was scared out of my fricking mind. There, I admit it. You happy now?”

No, I thought; I wasn’t. This wasn’t where I expected this conversation to go.

“Tell me again how you got taken.”

“I told you twice. I told Dr. Sanchez four times, and I told Sergeant Dietrich five times. The story isn’t going to change because there isn’t enough of the story to change. I felt a burn on the back of my neck and next thing I know I wake up strapped to a chair and some towelhead asshole is smacking the crap out of me. Then you, Top, and Bunny come in and you know the rest.”

I waited for another few seconds, but Ollie didn’t seem like he was about to start sweating anytime soon. If this was all an act then it was a good one.

What I said was, “Room Twelve.”

A bad actor would have jumped to his feet, knocked his chair over, and started shouting bloody murder right about then. Ollie cocked his head to one side of me and gave me a look like I’d asked him to explain his involvement in the sack of Rome.

“Ah,” he said softly, half smiling. “So that’s it.”

“That’s it.”

He sat back and folded his arms across his chest. “No,” he said, and he didn’t say another word.

Crisfield, Maryland / Wednesday, July 1; 12:44 P.M.

SKIP LOOKED JUMPY from what had happened in the plant. He’d been pelted pretty good by the falling debris from Dietrich’s rescue and had bruises and butterfly stitches on his face. While he waited for me to speak his fingers kept lacing and unlacing on the tabletop.

“That was some shit, wasn’t it?” he asked, giving me a nervous laugh.

“It was memorable,” I agreed, and then I gave him another dose of the long silent treatment. His reaction was the exact opposite of Ollie’s; Skip was younger and more high-strung. His hands and eyes never stopped moving. He was so jittery that it was hard to get any read at all on him. So far he’d been the least “warriorlike” of the team, though admittedly during both battles with the walkers he’d been quick and efficient. Grace said that he’d been half-crazed when Alpha Team found him, and maybe that’s what I was seeing here: the aftereffects of fighting solo against those monsters. I remembered my own reactions after I fought Javad. I freaked, I threw up, and I had the shakes.

On the other hand, he—like Ollie—had told us that he’d been taken off guard at the crab plant. I studied his face. There was no way to know if the mole was even on my team, let alone whether it was Ollie Brown or Skip Tyler. But of the two choices I found it hardest to believe it of Skip. Maybe that was his shtick or maybe he was as innocent as he seemed. I was too exhausted to trust my own judgment.

“Our forensics guy figured out how you got taken,” I said after a moment.

He came to point like a bird dog. “What the hell did happen? Secret door?”

“Secret door,” I agreed.

“Son of a bitch.”

I nodded. Skip looked at the tabletop for a long time and when he raised his head his eyes were wet.

“I’m sorry, sir.”

I waited.

“I should have checked.”

“You’re lucky you weren’t killed.”

He looked away for a moment while he took a steadying breath. “Sir… after what I saw in there yesterday and today, after what I did …”

“What you did?”

“I… shot women. And kids. Old ladies. People. I killed a lot of people,” he said in a whisper. His mouth trembled and he put his face in his hands and he began to weep.

I sat back in my chair and watched him. His grief was everywhere. It filled the room.

I wondered what Rudy was thinking about all of this. The DMS had cameras that no one could spot, and Rudy was in the adjoining room watching it all.

Crisfield, Maryland / Wednesday, July 1; 1:18 P.M.

AFTER I DISMISSED Skip my phone buzzed. It was Grace.

“Joe!” she said urgently. “It’s Aldin… hurry!”

I ran out of the room and sprinted across the parking lot and into the interrogation van where I saw Aldin lying on the floor. Dr. Hu and two nurses were working frantically over him and the little prisoner was shuddering with convulsions. Everyone was wearing surgical masks and latex gloves. I snatched a set off the table and pulled them on.

“We’re losing him,” Hu hissed desperately.

“What’s happening?” I asked, dropping down beside Grace, who was holding Aldin’s feet.

“It’s the control disease. It’s activated… he’s dying.”

I shot a look at Church. “I thought you said that you gave him the antidote.”

“We did,” Church said. “It’s not working.”

“I think it’s a different disease,” Hu said as he worked. “This one’s much more aggressive. Maybe a different strain, I don’t know.”

I placed my hands on Aldin’s chest to try and keep his body from thrashing, but I was pissed. “Oh, come on, Doc… two different control viruses? That’s bullshit.”

As if to contradict me Aldin went into full-blown convulsions, every muscle in his body seeming to seize and clutch at once. It was so sudden and so powerful that it nearly threw us off him.

“My—my—” Aldin tried to talk past clenched teeth.

“Clear his mouth,” I snapped.

Hu hesitated, looking to Church, who nodded. “The captain gave you an order, Doctor.”

With great reluctance Hu removed the air tube. Aldin coughed and gagged. “My—children?” he gasped. “Are they—safe?”

“Yes,” I said, not knowing if it was true or not. “We got to them in time. They’re safe.”

He closed his eyes and the violence of the tremors seemed to diminish as relief flooded his face. “Thank you. Thank… Allah.”

I put my hand on his shoulder and gave him a little squeeze. He settled back against the floor, the convulsions fading for the moment. “Tell us how to help you?”

Aldin shook his head. “I don’t know. The pills always… worked before.”

Hu looked at me. “We don’t have your pills. We’re using what we found at the first two sites.”

Aldin suddenly went into another fit and when it passed he looked considerably weaker, more dead than alive. He tried to say something but his voice was barely a whisper. I leaned close, strained to hear. “Save—them—”

“Your children are safe,” I assured him, but he shook his head.

“No. Save them . Save… all of them. There—is still—time. Save them!”

“Who? Who do you want us to save?”

“L—L—” He couldn’t form the word. Blood seeped from his nose. He closed his eyes and a tear of watery blood fell from his left eye. When he opened his eyes one pupil was massive, a clear sign of a cerebral hemorrhage. He was fighting to hold on with everything he had, and I felt myself admiring him for the ferocity of his struggle—and, truth be told, for the lengths he had been willing to go to protect his children; but this was a fight he couldn’t win. He knew it, too. We all did. He forced his mouth to shape the word slowly. “L—Lester—”