“Oh, really. What kind of faulty calculations are you…”
The voices and steps began to fade.
Gabriel held his position for several more minutes before pulling himself all the way into the center of the bushes with Martina. Silently, they waited there another hour before he decided it was safe to move again.
Fearing the patrols would still be out, Gabriel plotted a course that avoided all but the most necessary open areas. This took them on a wide loop that went all the way to the edge of the I-5 then over to the 2 Freeway, where they finally headed southwest again.
When they reached Sunset Boulevard, Gabriel led Martina into Mohawk Bend, a restaurant half a block down from Alvarado, and radioed Nyla.
“I was beginning to worry about you guys,” Nyla said.
“Sorry, we were…delayed. Listen, can you come over here?”
“Why?”
He hesitated. “There’s something we need to talk about. Better in person, I think.”
When Nyla arrived forty minutes later, Gabriel and Martina were sitting at the long central table between the bar and the kitchen, eating a lunch of crackers and cheese and dried salami from the supplies Gabriel had in his pack. They were washing it down in style. The restaurant had a large selection of beers, and days ago Gabriel had taught himself how to tap into the kegs. Right now they were enjoying a lukewarm Racer 5 IPA.
“Can I pour you a pint?” he asked as Nyla walked in.
For a second it looked like she was going to chastise him for drinking, but then her frown faded and she said, “Sure.”
Nyla took a seat across from them. Gabriel filled a glass and put it in front of her.
“So you’re going to tell me why I’m here,” she asked.
“We need to get those people out,” Martina said.
“What people?”
“The ones in the third enclosure,” Gabriel said.
Nyla frowned. “You know we don’t have the resources for that.”
Gabriel glanced at Martina and then back at Nyla. “Then we need to get them.”
“What the hell’s going on here?”
“I think I know why this is the only station that has a third enclosure.”
Nyla raised an eyebrow. “Really? Okay, then. What’s your theory?”
“Immunity.”
Dr. Lawrence could not believe how lucky she was. Initially, she had been assigned to the station in St. Louis. But for whatever reason — the rumor was the suicide of another Project doctor, though she had yet to confirm it — the rosters were shuffled, and her name was moved onto the personnel sheet for Los Angeles.
How boring would St. Louis have been? Sure, they would have probably found one or two people with a natural immunity to KV-27a, but for the most part, they would’ve been dealing with people who had either been lucky or had strong enough immune systems to keep them alive to that point but no true immunity. There, the decision on the life or death of a survivor would be made by other departments, who would base it on whether or not the individual was someone the Project could use.
But here in Los Angeles, she and Dr. Rivera had been presented with a surprise treasure trove. Of course, it shouldn’t have been a surprise. Someone in research should have anticipated this exact event happening, but maybe it was good the ball had been dropped. Perhaps if it hadn’t been, a more senior doctor would have received the L.A. assignment, and she would have been stuck in St. Louis or God only knew where else.
Twenty-three immune survivors.
Twenty-three.
And not one of them had inherited the resistance to Sage Flu. They had developed it because they’d been among the final wave of infected during the test outbreak, the wave that had survived. When she and Dr. Rivera had realized that, they knew if there were twenty-three at the station here in Los Angeles, there had to be hundreds more scattered throughout the high-desert region of southern California. Which was why, come the next morning, she would be part of an exploratory group heading out to look for them.
Until then, she and Dr. Rivera had time for a little experimentation. It was important to know exactly how strong the immune systems of these special survivors had grown.
“How about him?” Dr. Rivera said, pointing at one of the twenty-three photographs laid out on the table.
She studied the image, then shrugged. Really, what was the difference? “Works for me,” she said.
Dr. Rivera picked up the photo and handed it to the guard who had been waiting patiently to the side. “This one. As quickly as you can.”
While Martina’s friends were all in favor of trying to get out, most of the others being held with them did not seem as open to the idea. Ben had been careful about what he said as he spoke to them, trying to gauge their thoughts on the situation without going into any details. The only people he shared more information with were a man named Preston Campbell from Barstow, who was in his mid-thirties, and a woman named Ivy Morse, who was probably closer to sixty and from Sage Springs.
As Ben had pointed out from the beginning, getting out of their detention area would be the easy part. All they would have to do was scrap enough grass and topsoil away to slip under the gate. It wouldn’t be easy but very doable, especially if they waited until night. The trick was getting the center-field wall open.
Ben was huddled with Jilly, Ruby, and Preston, going over ideas on how to do just that, when the compound gate opened and five guards entered. All conversation ceased as the guard in front looked at a piece of paper in his hand and then scanned the survivors.
When his gaze landed on Ben’s group, he pointed. “You. Come here.”
No one moved.
“Blue shirt, let’s go,” the guard said.
Ruby was the one in blue. “Go where?” she asked.
“The doctors want to see you.”
“What for?”
“You’ll have to ask them. Come on.”
Ruby glanced nervously back at the others. “What do I do?” she whispered.
“Let’s move it!” the guard yelled.
“It’ll be okay,” Jilly said.
None of them believed that.
The guards started walking toward them. Ruby said to her friends, “Don’t leave me,” then turned and walked toward the gate.
“How long will she be gone?” Ben asked.
Without answering, the guards formed a circle around Ruby and led her out of the detention area.
As soon as the gate was closed, Jilly said, “What the hell?”
“The sooner we get out of here, the better,” Preston said.
“But not without Ruby.” Jilly looked at Ben. “We can’t leave her.”
“We won’t,” he said, with no idea how he’d keep that promise.
The door to the lab opened and the test subject was escorted in.
“Have a seat…” Dr. Rivera looked down at the file. “Ruby.”
With a wary glance back at her guards, the girl sat down. The subject’s apparent agitation surprised Dr. Lawrence.
She looked at the lead guard. “Was there a problem?”
“No. Why?” the guard asked.
Instead of answering him, she switched her attention to the survivor. “You appear upset. Is something wrong?”
“I just…I want to know why I’m here.”
For a brief second, she thought maybe the girl had realized what they were going to do, but that wasn’t possible. Her nerves must have been on edge from being locked up for so many days.
She gave the survivor a disarming smile and said, “We realize this has been an ordeal for you and the others. Know that we’re only doing what’s necessary to keep people alive.”
Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Rivera preparing the syringe.