Riposte (The Redivivus Trilogy Book 2) (6 page)

What senses allow the infected to locate the uninfected? How can they tell when someone is uninfected?
Lin believed the infected retained at least some degree of sight, though she hardly imagined it was anything close to the acuity of normal human vision. Perhaps they could merely detect alterations in light, which could be interpreted as movement. The fact that they seemed to have difficulty seeing anything far away or moving very slowly supported that assumption.

Having watched as countless people were attacked after screaming or making some other noise, she felt certain that hearing was preserved, and perhaps even heightened. It seemed clear that hearing played an integral role in their ability to track as well. Although she could not conceive of a way that hearing sensitivity could be enhanced at the cellular level, it seemed quite plausible that the infected could become more adept at processing auditory information—in much the same way that a blind person becomes more reliant on other senses in the absence of vision. Were that the case, she imagined that the younger a person was at the time of infection, the more keen its hearing would be, and the more dangerous it would be. Lin made a mental note to look for any evidence to support that theory.

Smell, being one of the oldest and most evolutionarily preserved senses, was almost certainly a significant factor in the ability of the infected to hone in on uninfected humans. While humans relied on smell much less than most animals, due to evolutionary improvements in other senses like vision, the hardware and wiring were all still in place. Further, when Lin thought about smelling food in the absence of any emotional context or intellectual concerns about whether it was a healthy choice or if it would make her fat, olfaction seemed more like a reflex. Smell food—eat food.

Regardless of the sense in question, it seemed probable that without the background noise generated by the higher functions of the big human brain, more focus could be placed on a specific sensory input, leading to a relatively stronger, cleaner signal. All of these suppositions were just that—untested assumptions—and Lin was certain she would be given ample opportunity to validate them if she survived.

Perhaps the most perplexing question of all was
how did
the virus described in Dr. Johnson’s journal entries transform into the demon currently destroying humanity? According to the documents on the USB drive, the researchers had been close to successfully creating a rather sophisticated bio-assassination weapon, but somewhere along the way something went terribly wrong. Lin thought the answer to that question might also be the secret to unraveling LNV itself.

While the virus sweeping through the world’s population certainly destroyed those it infected, Lin was not certain that it killed them. Moreover, it lacked the specificity they originally intended; this virus was plenty capable of replication as well as human-to-human transmission. Were these simply unknown characteristics of LNV-human interaction or had the virus somehow changed, mutating into something far more diabolical? Once again, Lin repeatedly found herself running into the same brick wall, her more experiential side offering error messages of its own.

Unbelievable. How is any of this shit even possible? This can’t really be happening.

Understanding that time was of the essence, Lin reflected on these questions despite her overwhelming exhaustion. The thought of the daunting task ahead was like a battering ram, slamming her brain against the inside of her skull repeatedly. Everything swirled through her mind at once, making it virtually impossible to get a firm grasp on any one idea. Her breathing grew restricted and a feeling of lightheadedness settled over her.
I can’t do this! I can’t do this! Why the hell did they pick me? I can’t do this!
It was all too much.

Lin’s burgeoning self-doubt made her question whether it was even worth trying.
Is it not already too late?
The problem had so many variables that every question proved more mind-boggling than the last. Although she knew the data on the USB drive likely gave her a leg-up on anyone else who might be working toward a cure, she worried it would not be enough to make a difference in time. Lin also knew that she could not accept the situation as it was without seriously rethinking many of the fundamental scientific principles that had played such an instrumental role in shaping her life. Even so, she had observed LNV in action with her own eyes; she could not refute that.

The more she thought about the prospect of a cure, it seemed inconceivable that many of the infected she had seen could survive, even if the virus could somehow be eradicated from their bodies. Such were the severity of injuries often incurred by the infected. Assuming recovery was possible, would people even want to? Would they have any recollection of the things they had done? If so, it would certainly create an all-new category of PTSD.

In light of her serious doubts, Lin shifted from thoughts of eradicating the disease to those of preventive vaccination or post-exposure prophylaxis. When she considered a vaccine, she wondered if there were enough humans left, and if they could hold on long enough for such a thing to be created. Even if they succeeded in creating an effective vaccine, she had no idea how they would distribute it to the isolated pockets of survivors she hoped still dotted the globe. Lin knew, or at least hoped, that if infection could be prevented in a handful of people, perhaps they would be sufficient to rekindle the entire human population. After all, regardless of one’s beliefs on the matter, the world’s human population had been little more than that at some point in the remote past.

Lin’s scattered thoughts were interrupted abruptly by the sound of tires screeching against pavement and the sensation of being hurled toward the seat in front of her. Sliding forward, her nose smashed into the headrest of the front passenger seat, causing her eyes to water profusely. She let out a pained yelp and silently cursed herself for being too preoccupied to put her seatbelt on when she got back into the vehicle. As she cleared her involuntary tears, she raised her head to search for the cause of their sudden stop, simultaneously noting that no one else in the vehicle was making a sound. With jaws hanging slack in disbelief, the other three occupants of the truck stared straight ahead at something in the distance. Following their gaze, Lin instantly joined their incredulous gawking.

Up to that moment, the ride had been rather uneventful by current standards. It had been slow going as Sergeant Garza was forced to weave in and out of abandoned cars as he drove; only having to go completely off-road to circumvent the occasional heavy pile-up. On the contrary, the scene sprawled out ahead of them was magnificent in scale. Afflicting the entire landscape for as far as the eye could see, it exuded such pervasive desolation that it seemed wholly manmade, like some grandiose Hollywood movie set. The gestalt was not unlike that Garza had experienced when looking at photos of the uninhabited exclusion zone around Chernobyl; such was the sense of despondency and absolute abandonment.

Otherwise familiar artifacts of humanity lay dormant—contorted into completely alien configurations that sent icy chills up Garza’s spine. Seeing many car doors left wide open, he briefly entertained the idea that the vehicles had been rendered useless by an EMP attack, causing their occupants to simply walk away. In truth, he realized it was likely an oversight caused by the urgency with which people were forced to flee their trapped vehicles. Thinking back to the horrors he witnessed at Dobbins, he shuddered and tried to steer his mind away from such thoughts.

After a long period of stunned silence, Corporal Rocha quietly said, “Holy Mother, help us. What the hell happened here?”

Ahead, the road they were on had once traversed an extended overpass that spanned an interstate running in a roughly perpendicular direction. The interstate had a total of six lanes, three in each direction, separated by a narrow swath of land. Traffic on the road below was far more gridlocked than on the one they were currently travelling. Crammed in bumper-to-bumper like crazed fans trying desperately to reach the big concert in time, those on the road below didn’t stand a chance when thousands of tons of concrete and metal came crashing down upon them. Whether the collapse was due to the combined weight of all the automobiles sitting idly on the overpass at one time or some other force, they did not know. Either way, the result was total devastation. Concrete and metal entwined together in a massive, jumbled heap. Withering tentacles of smoke rose wearily from the remnants of dwindling fires long past their prime. Aside from that, they saw no movement among the wreckage.

While General Montes remained at a loss for words, Garza croaked out a single word, summing the situation up perfectly.

“Shit.”

As the shock of witnessing such devastation faded, they discussed a plan to get around this new and imposing obstacle. Finding his voice, General Montes spoke for the first time since they arrived at the collapse. “First thing’s first. We need to get closer and scout out the situation. We need to know exactly what we are dealing with.”

With everyone in agreement, the four cautiously climbed out of the truck. Garza and Rocha took point, and upon finding no apparent danger in the immediate vicinity, they signaled for General Montes and Dr. San to join them. Without making a sound, they advanced toward the edge of the ruined interstate in a low crouch. They weaved through the stalled cars—weapons at the ready, heedful of the impairment the vehicles posed to their ability to maintain complete situational awareness. They also knew that while many had become tombs, any one of them could be a deathtrap in disguise; one of the infected restrained inside, waiting for unsuspecting prey to wander too close like a Venus fly trap waiting for a fly to come into range.

During the drive from the airbase, General Montes gave Lin a crash course on using the Sig Sauer 9mm semiautomatic handgun he had given her. As she advanced ahead of him, Montes noticed with approving admiration that she held the weapon in a proper two-handed grip—her support hand dutifully wrapped around her strong hand positioned high on the gun’s back strap.

Still on point, Sergeant Garza maneuvered alongside a large pickup truck. Unable to see over the hood of the oversized truck due to its excessive lift kit, he shifted to a standing position in order to peer through the truck’s window. Notable relief spread across his face when he saw no danger on the road ahead of them.

BAAAMMMM! BAAAM! BBAAAMM!

The ear-splitting noise erupted immediately next to Garza, shattering the silence like a rock tossed through a windowpane in the still of night. Acting solely on instinct, he leapt back defensively as he brought the barrel of his rifle up toward the truck’s window. As he did, his feet became entangled with one another causing him to tumble clumsily to the ground. The thing inside the truck repeatedly banged its bloodied and blistered hand against the closed driver’s side window, snarling through dry, cracked lips as it tried frantically to escape the confines of the truck. Just as Garza centered his rifle for the shot, the monster’s head snapped forward, slamming against the window with a dull thud. He saw the tip of a long blade protruding from the thing’s right eye as it fell slack.

Through the thick, dark fluid oozing down the blood-smeared window, Garza glimpsed movement inside the truck’s cab. Only when Corporal Rocha popped up on the passenger side running board did Garza’s confusion dissipate. Exhaling in relief, Garza eased the pressure off of his trigger.

Rocha placed a finger over his lips before signaling for Garza to look ahead.

After watching a few more quick hand signals that she did not understand, Lin saw the hopeful look of acknowledgement and gratitude on Garza’s face morph into a ghostly pale expression of sheer terror. Although she did not understand all of the information they passed back and forth, the meaning behind the look in his eyes was unmistakable; she knew they were in trouble.

Before Lin and General Montes could move up to find out what had them spooked, the two soldiers hurried back to their position. The worried determination etched across Corporal Rocha’s face told General Montes everything he needed to know, and further intensified the substantial concern growing deep inside Lin’s chest.

Still crouching, Rocha spoke breathlessly as Garza kept his eyes trained on their surroundings. “Good news and bad news. The road is definitely impassable directly ahead, but there does appear to be a way through the traffic on the intersecting road below, off to the left a few hundred yards up. We’ll definitely have to test the off-road capabilities of the LSSV to get there. The bad news is we won’t likely be the only ones there if we can reach the spot.” The corporal’s eyes flitted toward the ground as he finished speaking, allowing time for the unspoken meaning of his words to reach the ears of his listeners.

General Montes asked, “How many of them are down there? Can you tell? Did you see any survivors?”

“It’s hard to say how many infected with so much of the area obscured by cars, but there are enough to make our day suck pretty bad. I didn’t see any survivors,” he replied, his eyes once again downcast. “The gap in the traffic seems a little odd. I mean, the rest of the interstate is bumper-to-bumper traffic for as far as the eye can see. It’s almost like the opening was placed there intentionally to funnel people through at that spot. I can’t imagine why someone would do that. Maybe someone else passed through before us—I don’t know. Either way, it seems suspicious.”

Garza turned his head to address the group in a hushed voice. “I don’t see any of those bastards up here yet, but I think we’re about to have company. Can you hear that? The shithead banging on the truck window probably attracted them. We need to think about making our move now before it is no longer an option. And we need to get to that opening before more of the infected down below crowd in. I don’t know why that opening is there either, and I’m not sure if it is intended to be some sort of trap, but I think it’s our only choice at this point.”