Mira Grant - Deadline

We do know that reservoir conditions are becoming more common, with reported cases of retinal, cerebro-spinal, ovarian, testicular, and pituitary KA in both human and animal hosts up by more than eighteen percent overthe last eleven years. There are rumors of new reservoir conditions manifesting themselves, conditions with scary names like “cardiac” and “pulmonary.” Yet still, no one knows why.

Taken all together, it’s enough to make one question whether we truly dodged the end of the human race… or merely delayed it by a decade or two.

—From Epidemiology of the Wall , authored by Mahir Gowda, January 11, 2041

Nine

Dr. Abbey’s “office” was a euphemistically named cubicle only slightly larger than the ones around it. It didn’t help that it was jammed with file boxes, outmoded computer equipment, and—best of all—clear plastic tanks full of assorted insects and arachnids. I don’t have a problem with spiders. Spiders can’t carry Kellis-Amberlee. Ditto giant hissing cockroaches and squiggly things with way too many legs. Becks didn’t share my disregard. Every time the squiggly thing moved, she sank farther back into her chair.

It’s called a millipede, said George.

“It’s called comedy,” I muttered, and turned my attention back to Dr. Abbey.

She had shrugged out of her lab coat before pulling a bag of Oreos out of a filing cabinet and dumping them onto a paper plate. Now she was rummaging through the minifridge shoved under her desk, crouching in a way that I recognized as designed to put a minimum of stress on her knees. Joe the Mastiff was stretched out between her and us, enormous head resting between his forelegs. His pose was relaxed, but his eyes were alert, focusing on whoever had moved most recently. That meant his focus was mostly on Becks, who couldn’t stop flinching.

“So there’s apple juice, water, beer, and something unlabeled that’s either a protein shake or algae.” Dr. Abbey looked up. “Who wants what?”

“I want to know how you managed to induce a reservoir condition,” volunteered Kelly, the need for knowledge apparently overwhelming her reluctance to work with unsanctioned researchers.

Dr. Abbey fixed her with a flat stare. “That’s not a beverage. I want to know how you managed to justify violating a couple dozen international laws when you used a clone for personal benefit. Don’t they train you out of that at the CDC? I thought that was their job. That, and restricting research to party-line channels while people were dying.”

“I’ll take an apple juice,” I said.

“Nothing for me, thanks,” said Alaric. He was looking at Dr. Abbey with the same sort of intent focus that Joe was turning on the rest of us, eyes slightly narrowed.

“Uh, water,” said Maggie.

Becks said nothing. She was too busy watching the millipede.

“Got it.” Dr. Abbey straightened, passing a ble of water to Maggie and a bottle of apple juice to me before sitting in the chair next to her dog. “So you’re finally here about the reservoir conditions. Damn. I’ve had a bet going with Dr. Shoji in Oahu for years now. He’s been swearing you’d come someday. I thought you’d just keep treading water until we were all completely fucked.”

“Shoji?” asked Alaric, eyes narrowing further. “Would that refer to Joseph Shoji, the director of the Kauai Institute of Virology?”

“Why are you asking me questions you know the answers to already? Nobody here needs the exposition.” Dr. Abbey picked up her own drink, sipping calmly before she said, “If you think you can sell me to your government, think again. They already know who I’m in contact with, how often, how we communicate, basically everything but how often I change my underwear. If they wanted to take me, they’d take me. They just don’t want to risk it.”

“Actually, I sort of need the exposition, since I have no clue what you people are talking about,” I said. “Why doesn’t the government want to risk it? I mean, no offense, but it’s not like you’re sitting on a nuke here or anything.”

“Oh, but I am.” Dr. Abbey’s gaze went to Kelly, and stayed there, guileless and steady as she continued: “See, the CDC knows damn well and good that something’s wrong. I don’t know how many of the people working there know what it is , but you can’t have half a brain, work in the medical field, and not realize that something’s not right.”

“That’s not fair,” protested Kelly. “The research—”

Dr. Abbey cut her off: “That’s an excuse.”

“You’re talking about the reservoir conditions,” said Becks. It was a relief to have her join the conversation. Her training was a lot more analytical than mine. I didn’t know what questions to ask. She and Alaric did, and that could save our asses.

“Exactly.” Dr. Abbey kept looking at Kelly. “What do you know?”

“I don’t know who Dr. Shoji is,” I volunteered. “But I know that people with reservoir conditions are dying faster than they should be, and I know that my sister was one of those statistics, so we’re here because we need you to tell us what the CDC doesn’t want to say.”

Kelly shot me a look. “Control of sensitive information is a key duty of all government organizations,” she said. “Given your own need for information security, I would have thought—”

“Drop the party line, Doc,” I said pleasantly. “I still don’t have a problem with hitting girls.”

Her mouth snapped shut with an audible click.

Dr. Abbey studied me for a moment before looking toward Alaric, nodding in my direction, and asking, “Is he for real?”

“He’s for real,” said Alaric. “Infuriating, impossible, and probably insane, but for real.”

“Huh.” Dr. Abbey took another sip of her drink. “Jos five fully developed reservoir conditions. Retinal, cerebro-spinal, cardiac, testicular, and my personal favorite, thyroid. He’s the first documented case of a canine thyroid reservoir condition, aren’t you, Joe?” Joe turned his massive head toward her, tongue lolling as he drooled agreement with her words.

“You said you induced them?” said Becks.

“That’s impossible,” said Kelly. “The virus doesn’t behave that way.”

“It’s not impossible. It’s just hard,” said Dr. Abbey. “I started injecting him with the live-state virus when he was six weeks old. That gave his body time to learn to deal with it before he got big enough to amplify. The first two conditions developed on their own, as a consequence of the inoculations. The others took more doing, since they had to be induced after adulthood.”

“I just don’t understand,” said Kelly. “I mean, the risk of amplification alone—”

“Who says he didn’t amplify?”

We all turned toward Maggie—I’d almost forgotten she was there, I was so busy trying to understand what the hell was going on—who was looking at Dr. Abbey with wide, solemn eyes.

“What?” asked Kelly.

“Who says he didn’t amplify?” repeated Maggie. She picked up her water, took a thoughtful drink, and continued: “I mean, if you can induce reservoir conditions… You said he’d never amplify fully . It seems like there’s only one way you could know, and that’s by testing it. I’m not sure how you’d do it; it’s not like I’m a doctor, but it seems… possible.”

“Doesn’t it?” asked Dr. Abbey. “Gold star for you.”

A slow, horrifying picture was beginning to come together in my head, a picture that I didn’t want to see. George was silent, making it even harder to ignore the conclusions my mind was drawing. Whatever those conclusions were, she was drawing them, too, and she didn’t like them any more than I did. My mouth was suddenly desert-dry, as parched as the ground outside of Memphis, where snipers opened fire on our convoy, where Buffy died… where the CDC took us in for the very first time.