Eric Brown: Season of Rot

“The project may have been taken over by the military, but it was originally civilian in nature. My fathers taught me about humanity even as the military tested and honed my offensive capabilities. I believe my fathers hoped what they were teaching me would make me useless to the army and allow them to continue with the project without the army’s interference.”

“Okay,” Vince said, dragging out the word. “I don’t suppose it matters much now. You’re here and you’re not like the flesh-eating monsters outside, so I guess that makes us allies.”

“Where do we go from here?” Laura asked them both.

“Daniel expressed to me your desire to leave this hospital, but it may not be wise for you to travel to my base. It was infected with a mutated strain of the dead virus, and despite the base’s automated safety measures and my personal efforts, I cannot promise that you wouldn’t be exposed to the new airborne pathogen.”

“We have to try something, Martin,” Laura argued. “We can’t stay here forever, even if you continued to bring us supplies. The people here are coming apart at the seams. It’s not just about surviving anymore. It’s about starting over. And I don’t think the virus has mutated in the way you believe it has. If it had, you would’ve carried it here with you, I’m sure. Its gestation period is usually only a matter of minutes, not hours.”

“How can you be sure?”

“I can’t be, but none of us have changed since you came and that’s a good sign. I just believe it’s unlikely. If everyone here remains uninfected by the time we’re ready to send the first few members back with you, then we at least know the virus wasn’t altered enough for you to carry it here. The first group that goes can check out the base and make sure it’s safe before we transport the others.”

“What about Jack?” Martin asked.

“Jack will come around in time,” Vince assured him.

Laura shook her head. “I wouldn’t be so sure of that. Not until he sees proof that you are what you say you are, Martin. Just try to stay out of his way until then.”

“And the others here?” Martin asked.

Vince laughed. “I’ll introduce you around while Laura and I decide who your first passengers will be. Don’t worry. Jack’s Jack, and most people aren’t like him.”

“Thank you,” Martin Kier said, nodding. He hoped Vince was right. He’d come to help this group of fellow survivors, not kill them in self-defense. Perhaps what disturbed Martin the most was that, after seeing the child, he was not sure he could bring himself to execute them, even if they chose to eliminate him first.

Mitchell headed down the corridor to Alyson’s quarters, tired from unloading the supplies and pissed that he always got stuck with the grunt work. As much as he needed Alyson at the moment to take away the stress, he nearly went back the way he had come when he saw Jack marching toward him. He could feel Jack’s anger like it was a physical force. He stopped dead in his tracks, clutching his fists just in case.

Jack walked right up into his face and looked him dead in the eyes. “Get the guns. It’s time.”

Mitchell’s mouth dropped open. He’d always known Jack walked a thin line with the other members on the tribunal and had hoped one day Jack would take command of the hospital by force. He never thought it would happen though; it would start a civil war, and Jack wanted the group to survive more than anything. It was the driving purpose, perhaps the only purpose, in his life.

“Jack, are you sure about this?”

Jack grabbed Mitchell and flung him against the wall of the corridor. “Get the damn weapons! Get the others too. Laura has gone too far this time. I can’t sit by and watch her take us all to hell.”

Mitchell forgot about Alyson. He could get off later after things were put right. He darted down the passageway back the way he’d come.

Jack smiled after him. Maybe today, he thought. Maybe today is going to be a good day after all.

As Jack set his plan for a coup in motion, Vince called a meeting in the hospital’s cafeteria. His voice echoed over the intercom throughout the building, urging everyone to attend and meet their new guest. Vince wasn’t worried about low attendance. Even the dejected like Alyson and Chris were curious about Martin and the new sense of hope his presence had bought. In fact, Alyson was the first to arrive in the cafeteria where Martin and Vince waited.

Out of habit, Martin stood at attention beside Vince, who’d plopped into one of the chairs. Alyson approached them and smiled at Martin. “Hello, stranger,” she purred, flicking her long red hair out of her face with a slight shake of her head.

“Hello,” Martin answered. A good number of the base’s staff had been female, but none of them had ever acted in such a fashion toward him. He realized her movements were designed to initiate mating, but he could neither explain nor understand the feeling inside of him as she drew closer to kiss him on the cheek.

“Back off, Alyson,” Vince said. “Martin isn’t human.” He saw the hurt in Martin’s eyes and immediately cursed himself for being so tactless.

“What?” Alyson squeaked, retreating a few steps.

Vince hated his poor choice of words even more. “That’s not what I meant,” he said, trying to explain himself to both of them at once. “Martin’s a person just like us. I just meant give him some space, okay?”

“A person like us?” Alyson asked. “What in the hell is that supposed to mean? Why would you say shit like that?”

“I am a bio-genetically engineered weapon capable of evolution and independent thought,” Martin explained.

“Oh,” Alyson gasped. Neither Vince nor Martin could tell if she believed him, but she did seem calmer and she continued to look Martin over. “I’d let you be one for me.”

More people started pouring into the room, and Martin locked onto Chris and his newborn daughter as they entered. “I came here to help,” he announced to the crowd.

Vince grabbed his arm. “Wait. Wait until everyone’s settled and then explain. That way you only have to do it once. It’s easier, trust me.” Vince stood up, putting a hand on Martin’s back, and Martin deferred to his wisdom.

After Laura had left the conference room, she’d returned to her quarters. She had faith that Vince could introduce Martin and convince the group that he wasn’t a threat. Jack’s reaction had upset her, but there was nothing she could do except give him time to calm down. In his current state, she knew reasoning with him would be out of the question, it would only make matters worse. Anyway, she had more important matters to deal with. She could feel another attack coming on, and she wanted to make sure she was alone when it hit.

She took off her lab coat, slumped onto the edge of her mattress and rolled up her sleeve. When she finished, she opened the drawer of the small desk beside the bed. Inside was her private mini-pharmacy from the hospital’s stores. Unlike Alyson, about whom she’d heard rumors, none of her stash was narcotic in nature. It was composed entirely of treatments for her cancer and its symptoms.

She measured out a dose into a syringe and shot up, praying the treatment would stem off the attack. Exhausted both physically and emotionally, she reclined on the bed and closed her eyes, wishing she could bring herself to dream of a better tomorrow.

Vince waited as long as he felt comfortable for the group to gather in the cafeteria. Almost everyone was there and settled in by now. Only Laura, Jack, and a few of the man’s cronies were absent.

When the room finally grew quiet, Vince spoke. “As you all know, the man beside me is Martin Kier. He’s the person we made radio contact with recently. And yes, his story is real. He arrived this morning by helicopter and brought us a delivery of supplies from the military installation he’s been surviving in since the plague started.”