Everywhere people died. The lucky ones, close to the detonation point, evaporated in the initial flash, their shadows instantly burned onto sidewalks and walls. One woman was in the middle of drinking a Coke—the flash vaporized her, leaving a perfect silhouette with arm bent, head tilted back, can in hand. Farther out from the detonation point, you didn’t vaporize; your skin just bubbled as the sudden heat caused the fluid in each cell to boil, expand and burst the cell membranes. Survivors would later describe the feeling as being dunked deep into a vat of boiling water. Most of those who lived through the initial fireball effects died from the pressure wave or were killed by building wreckage and various car parts traveling at five hundred miles an hour.
If you lived through all that, you had to deal with second-and third-degree burns, burning buildings and dead as far as the eye could see.
And if you lived through that, your body would feel the effects of radiation for years to come. The cancer rate in southeast Michigan would skyrocket.
The initial blast caused an estimated 58,000 deaths. Another 23,000 died within days as a result of burns and shock-wave-related injuries. Combined, the blast caused 81,000 deaths. In the five years that followed, another 127,000 would die of persistent injuries, cancer and other radiation-related causes.
In those years, through all the scandals and congressional inquiries and public outcry, President John Gutierrez, his staff, the Joint Chiefs, Murray Longworth, Margaret Montoya and Clarence Otto would ask themselves every day…
Was it worth it?
As brutal as it sounded, it was.
They had destroyed the spores, killed Chelsea and brought down the Orbital. They still didn’t know what was supposed to come out of those gates, what the angels really looked like and what damage they might have caused.
They didn’t know, and thanks to those who gave their lives, they never would.
In the weeks after the explosion, as FEMA, Homeland Security and a dozen other agencies and charities converged on the Motor City and its suburbs to help the survivors and bury the dead, two small, manned submarines began picking up the only solid enemy remains.
The pieces of the Orbital.
Nine hundred feet below Lake Michigan’s rough surface, the Orbital’s wreckage lay spread across the lake bed, a collection of twisted, warped and broken rubble.
One piece, however, remained mostly intact. This object had been engineered to survive such crashes, to endure almost any type of damage in order to ensure delivery of its contents.
That particular object was about the size of a soda can.
Acknowledgments
My “First Reader:” You always take one for the team.
“Team Sigler:”
• Julian “Tha Shiv” Pavia and the hard-workin’ cats at Crown Publishing. Y’all make this a fun party.
• Byrd “The Natural” Leavell for constant support, guidance and story instincts.
• Scott Christian and J. C. Hutchins for vital advance reads that helped iron out some pesky wrinkles. You guys are nails.
• Mae “RDQ” Breakall for being my brain.
• Paul “Pulsar” Rogalinski, programming assassin.
• Arioch Morningstar, audio production machine.
Research and guidance:
• Jeremy “Xenophanes” Ellis, my friend and amazing science adviser. This book wouldn’t have happened without your brilliance.
• Doug Ellis for help with BSL-4 procedures.
• Paul Blass and Bill DeSmedt, who provided much-needed help with orbital physics.
• “Slow-Lane-Express” for teaching me about semi-tractors and trailers.
• Robert W. Gilliland, Major, USAF, for in-depth Air Force knowledge and many years of friendship.
• Chris Grall, U.S. army veteran, for all the tactics, weapons, details and culture.
Thanks to all the men and women of the U.S. military for all that you do and all that you sacrifice.
EXTRA-SPECIAL THANKS WITH SPRINKLES ON TOP:
A most heartfelt “thanks a frickin’ lot” to Joe Dumars, president of Basketball Operations for the Detroit Pistons, for trading Chauncey Billups to Denver shortly after this novel went to the printer. At least now I can say that Dumars made me look like an idiot…
And finally, to my die-hard fans, aka “The Junkies.” All of this is for you. The novel you hold in your hands brings us closer to the Sigler Ascension. Spread the faith, for soon the plaid tanks will roll…
E-mail the author at: scott@scottsigler.net.
Copyright
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
Copyright © 2008 by Scott Sigler
All rights reserved.
Published in the United States by Crown Publishers, an imprint of the Crown Publishing Group, a division of Random House, Inc., New York
CROWN and the Crown colophon are registered trademarks of Random House, Inc.
Sigler, Scott.
Contagious / Scott Sigler.—1st ed.
p. cm.
Sequel to: Infected.
1. Parasites—Fiction. 2. Neurobehavioral disorders—Fiction. 3. Murderers—Fiction. I. Title.
PS3619 I4725C66 2008
813'.6—dc22 2008039985
eISBN: 978-0-307-45211-5
v1.0