Photos were up on the nightstand of the boy and his grandfather at baseball games and on a fishing trip. He saw all of Gabriel’s life then. His parents had abandoned him at a young age, and a kindly grandfather who had thought he’d already put in his time raising his children had taken him in and raised him as his own.
Ian did not like remorse or guilt. They were wasted emotions the herd felt because they had been trained from childhood to have a response to stimuli that shouldn’t have meant anything. Emotions were nothing more than a response of the weak, those who were ruled over rather than doing the ruling. Successful people were frequently on television, discussing love, charity, and compassion, but those were not the things that had made them successful. They shared a secret that they would never reveal. The formula for success was simple enough for anyone that wanted to learn it: do not feel guilt.
Still, in his own way, Ian was saddened that the grandfather had to die and that he had seen his grandson die before him. If he had it to do again, Ian would kill the grandfather first.
Ian checked the rest of the apartment, and no one was there. He made his way down the elevator, and when he stepped off, a crowd had gathered around the security guard’s body. They were all trying cell phones, sending texts to nowhere, and placing calls that would never connect. They seemed so impotent that Ian almost laughed. He brushed past them, getting a good look at their faces. Absolutely fascinating, they were much like a different species he couldn’t possibly empathize with. They fussed over this man whom they had never met. They probably saw him every day and ignored him, but once he was dead, they cared for him. What a waste of energy.
Three names were left on his list. He thought about commandeering a car, but something about Katherine was… entertaining. He couldn’t put his finger on why, but he enjoyed her company.
He hailed a cab to take him to the hospital.
28
Samantha held the syringe above the pale dermis of the woman’s bicep. Wearing thin latex gloves and a surgical mask, Samantha glanced once at Duncan, then plunged the needle into the doughy flesh. She injected the weakened pathogen. Agent X, the deadliest aspect of nature she had ever encountered, was flowing in this woman’s veins. And they would have to hope that it didn’t kill her.
The situation was so absurd that she questioned if they should be there at all. But as Duncan had pointed out, the risk of death was worth the reward of a cure. Maybe he was right, but they were still dealing with one unknown by instituting another.
She pulled out the syringe, threw it into a biohazard bin sitting next to them, and leaned back in the chair as Duncan slapped a cotton ball and a Band-Aid on the woman’s arm.
“So is that all? Can I go home now?”
“I don’t know,” Samantha said. “Where are you staying?”
“They got these, well, I don’t know what you’d call them. Communes, I guess. They got these communes set up, and they have cots for us. And we’re just supposed to sleep out there. But I wanna go home. I need my medications, and they said they was gonna go get ’em, but they never did.”
Duncan rose. “We’ll let you know.”
He led her outside, where a line of at least a hundred people had formed.
Getting through everyone took several hours because more truckloads of people showed up. They had been told, Samantha was informed, that if they submitted to the shot, they could go home in two days.
Samantha was cleaning the site of the injection with alcohol for a teenage girl, who asked, “So where did the sickness come from?”
“The sickness?” Samantha asked.
“That’s what they call it. The sickness. Where’d it come from?”
“Well,” she said, preparing the syringe, “sometimes nature just throws viruses at us. They pop up, do a lot of damage, and then disappear.” She thrust the needle into the girl’s arm. “There was a flu in 1918 that killed almost a million people and then just disappeared. It came and went. And sometimes these things are released accidentally by people that are studying them. And other times, we have no idea where they come from.”
“That’s scary.”
“Yeah,” she said, taking off her surgical mask. “It is. You’re done. Leave the Band-Aid on at least an hour.”
“Thanks.”
When the girl had left, Sam stepped outside into the night air and stretched her back. She glanced up to the moon as Duncan came out and sat on one of the steps of the trailer. He leaned back on his elbows. “Where you staying tonight?”
“I didn’t even think about it. I was hoping at Jane’s in-laws’ house.”
“We can probably get a ride down there, unless they’ve already been rounded up.”
Sam pulled out her cell phone and saw she had a voice mail. She turned the sound on and listened to it.
“Sam, Clyde Olsen. Your sister is being held at one of our facilities. If you want to visit her, you can. I’ve given you clearance. She’s at facility One-Nine-Two-Two. It’s in Rustic Canyon. Give me a text when you’re done with the vaccinations, and I’ll send a jeep up to drive you.”
She hung up and texted back the number, stating that they were done and needed a ride. She got a text back. Okay. Nothing else.
“What is it?” Duncan asked.
“My sister’s being held at one of their facilities.”
“Are they going to let you see her?”
“Yeah, Clyde said he’s cleared me.”
He got up and stretched his arms over his head. “Sam, are you sure you want to see her locked in a cage?”
“What else am I supposed to do? Bury my head in the sand?”
“She’s going to be fine. This… thing just needs to get sorted out.”
“Sorted out by who, Duncan? How many people know what’s going on here?”
“I don’t know.”
She tapped the cell phone against her chin. “I need to figure out a way to get her out of this state. Is there anything you can do?”
“I can take one person on a flight with me, not two. And especially not a family with kids.”
She started to say something, but her voice was drowned out by the sound of helicopter blades hovering above them.
29
The air was warm and tasted like salt so close to the ocean. The palm trees on the side of the interstate were swaying lightly with the breeze, but Howie Burke couldn’t enjoy the view because of the noise-rumbling diesel engines and choppers thumping in the air.
The jeep he was driving had a top, but no doors. He had searched it and found no uniforms, so he never rode along with other trucks or jeeps. He always stayed behind, hoping they wouldn’t bother checking to see who was driving.
Though the interstate had a fair amount of military traffic, it was nothing compared to the usual everyday traffic of any highway in Los Angeles, and he was making extraordinary time. And it didn’t hurt that no traffic cops or Highway Patrol officers were anywhere in sight. Within twenty minutes, he was in Malibu.
He stopped somewhere near the beach, close enough that he saw the twirling barbed wire on the top of the cage. They had added more cots and fences, but they were guarded by fewer troops, towers, and military vehicles. They were stretched thin and clearly hadn’t planned for the influx of people.
No one was on the street, and Howie turned the jeep off and got out. He was perhaps a block from the entrance to the cage. Walking through the night air in a dead silence was one of the most chilling experiences he had ever had. Something about a forced quiet over an entire section of the biggest city in the world was unnerving-not something he had ever thought he would experience.
As he drew near, he saw the layout well. Of the three towers in the immediate vicinity, only one was guarded, and the soldier was leaning back with his rifle sitting next to him. He was staring blankly over the city and would glance down occasionally at the people lying on the cots, covered with gray blankets even though it was probably eighty degrees.