Fragments

  “We did,” said Laura. “I told you, we found every single person we could find, young and old, everyone who wasn’t already dead from the war or the virus. We scoured the city for weeks, and we sent drivers out in every direction. We brought back everyone we found, but there weren’t many left alive at that point. I wasn’t lying to you, Kira, we honestly thought we were the only humans left in the world.”

  “We all went east,” said Kira. “The last bits of the army gathered us all in one place.”

  Laura shook her head. “Apparently they missed a few.”

  “And what made you think all the Partials were dead?” asked Samm. His voice was typically emotionless, but Kira could tell something was bothering him, and had been since they’d arrived in the Preserve. She strained to pick up his feelings on the link, but without the heightened awareness of combat, her senses were too weak.

  “Why wouldn’t they be dead?” asked Laura. “RM killed them the same as us.”

  “Wait, what?” asked Kira. This was news—not just news but an outright shock. “RM doesn’t affect Partials,” said Kira. “They’re immune to it. That’s . . . that’s the whole point of it.” She felt a moment of panic—if this part of the world had a mutant, Partial-killing strain of RM, they were in terrible danger.

  But if that was so, then they were already exposed. Better to stay calm and learn what they could.

  “That’s all true,” said Laura, “but then the virus mutated. It happened here, in Denver—a new strain that appeared out of nowhere and burned through the Partial army like wildfire.”

  Kira couldn’t help but glance at Samm, looking for a sign of recognition on his face, but he was as impassive as ever. He was listening so intently that Kira thought this must be the first time he’d ever heard the story, but she couldn’t be sure, and she couldn’t just ask him here in front of everybody. She filed it away to bring up later.

  Kira turned back to Laura. “If a new strain hit in Denver, they must have quarantined those forces and kept it from spreading. Back east, no one’s even heard of an RM strain that targets Partials.”

  Calix ran into the firelight, breathless and pointing back deeper into the Preserve. “Dr. Vale’s awake,” she said between breaths. “He wants to see you.”

  Kira leapt to her feet. If this Dr. Vale had cured RM, maybe he knew more about Partial and human physiology than she did; maybe he’d already found the records they were looking for, and he could tell them more about the Trust, and the expiration date, and maybe even about who and what Kira was. She practically ran ahead of Calix as the girl led them through the village—a sprawling campus of office buildings that had long ago been converted to apartments. There were people here who hadn’t been at the bonfire, but apparently word had spread, and Kira found herself watched by hundreds of curious eyes, standing in doorways and leaning out of windows and clustering at the street corners. They stared at Kira and Samm with the same wonder Kira had felt on first seeing them, and she couldn’t help but wave as she passed. There were more people, and they had a cure, and they lived in a paradise. It was the single brightest hope she’d felt in possibly her entire life.

  In the distance, behind the office building village, a massive tower rose up, as high as anything Kira had seen in Manhattan. It was pitch-black, like a hole in the night sky, and she could see it only as a patch of darkness moving against the snow-covered mountains behind. She thought Calix was leading them there, but she stopped them instead at a low building that looked like it had once been a warehouse, and had since been converted to a hospital.

  “He’s in here,” said Calix, opening the door. Kira saw that it was glass, and realized with a start that almost all the windows in the Preserve still had glass in them—a classic sign of human habitation, and a phenomenon that Kira had only ever seen in East Meadow. It made her feel even more at home, and the fact that she was going into a hospital only reinforced the feeling. Samm, however, hung back, and after an awkward moment Kira walked back to drag him.

  “Come on,” she said, “this is it. This is what we’ve been looking for.”

  “We left the horses,” said Samm, his voice barely above a whisper. “We shouldn’t leave them overnight—let’s go get them and meet this guy tomorrow.”

  “Is that what’s been bothering you?” asked Kira. She tugged on his arm. “Come on, the horses will be fine, we can get them in the morning.”

  “They let us keep our guns,” Samm whispered, jostling them for emphasis. “I know that makes it seem like they trust us, but it’s creepy as hell—they have no way of knowing if anything we say is true, and that means that behind all their smiles and accommodations there’s some higher level of security we can’t see, and I don’t like it at all. Let’s come back in the morning.”

  Kira paused, studying his face. She thought she could feel his worry through the link, and if she could feel it, it must be powerful. “You’re really nervous, aren’t you?”

  “You’re not?”

  Kira glanced around; they were still being watched, and Calix was still waiting impatiently by the door. No one was close enough to hear them—at least not with human senses. She leaned in closer and whispered. “This is a group of people who are alive, who have found a cure, and they’re living around the building that holds the secrets to RM, expiration, and whatever the hell I am, Samm—this is what we’ve been looking for.”

  “Something’s not right here.”

  “No one has threatened us—”

  “And where’s Heron?” he asked. “Heron went ahead of us, to investigate this exact place, and yet she’s not here—that means she either saw something she didn’t like, and she’s holding back, or they saw her first and took her down. That is, they couldn’t have done anything good with her if they’re pretending to us that they’ve not seen her. And I do not want to meet the enemy that can see Heron first and take her down.”

  He’s right, thought Kira. This is suspicious, and dangerous, and too good to be true, and yet . . . “They have the cure,” said Kira. “Whatever they’re lying about, they’re not lying about that—there are children everywhere. And if they have that, they might have more. I have to go into that building, Samm, I have to. If you want to wait outside, that’s fine.”

  “I’m not leaving you alone,” he said, and looked at the glowing hospital before them. “I guess we’re going in, then.”

  CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE

  Calix led them through the halls, and Kira discovered that the hospital was not a converted warehouse but a converted laboratory, full of state-of-the-art equipment—this must have been part of the old ParaGen facility as well. The halls were relatively empty, but Kira’s heart leapt into her throat at the sound of crying babies—not sick, screaming infants like she’d always known in East Meadow, but healthy babies and happy, cooing mothers. She wanted to run and see them but blinked back her tears and followed Calix. She needed the cure first; then she could get some answers.

  Samm stiffened suddenly, his head jerking around to look for something, and Kira instinctively dropped into a combat stance, ready for attack. Samm breathed deeply, scanning the hall, and finally caught Kira’s eye. She started to speak, but he shook his head and nodded toward Calix. The blond girl had stopped by an office door and was looking back at them oddly.

  “Is everything okay?” Kira couldn’t help but notice that she was asking Samm. He started to answer, but Kira cut him off.

  “Is that his office?”

  “Yeah,” said Calix, and knocked on the door. A gruff voice on the other side shouted for them to come in, and they followed Calix through. Dr. Vale was short and average-looking, old but healthy; Kira couldn’t actually tell if he was older than Dr. Skousen or not, and wondered if he’d had any of the longevity gene mods that some of the older, richer people had gotten before the Break. If he had, there’d be no real way to guess his age—he could be anywhere from sixty to a hundred and twenty. Samm stared at him a moment, and Kira couldn’t
help but feel a faint wave of suspicion wash through her. Samm didn’t like the doctor, she didn’t even need the link to tell her that. Kira cleared her mind and prepared herself for the conversation, ready for whatever happened.

  “Please sit down,” said Dr. Vale, gesturing at the chairs in front of his desk. Calix began to sit with them, but Vale stopped her with a kind smile and a gesture toward the door. “Would you be so kind as to wait outside, dear? Our guests are going to have a lot of questions, and I want to make sure we’re not disturbed.”

  Calix seemed none too pleased about this, but sighed and left the room—making sure to flash Samm a quick smile on her way out. Samm didn’t even seem to notice, focusing all his attention on Vale, and Kira felt a glow of inexplicable satisfaction.

  Calix closed the door behind her, and Vale looked at Samm and Kira. “So,” he said. “You’re the two wanderers from across the Badlands.”

  “Yes, sir,” said Kira. “We came here looking for . . . answers. And we need to find a cure for RM, and we understand you’ve synthesized one.”

  “That I have,” said the doctor, “that I have. Tell me, how many of you did you say there are?”

  “Humans or Partials?” asked Kira.

  Vale smiled. “Both.”

  “Thirty-five thousand humans,” said Kira. “Roughly. And about half a million Partials.”

  Vale practically beamed. “Then this is a bittersweet meeting, isn’t it? To learn in one short second that one’s entire picture of the world is obsolete. I admit I’m not prepared for this revelation, and I pride myself in being prepared for everything.”

  “Please, sir,” said Kira. “Tell me about the cure.”

  “It works,” said Vale, raising his hands in a contented shrug. “What else is there to say? We inoculate each child as he or she is born, and RM can never harm them again. Not the best long-term solution, I’ll grant you—I’d hate to think that a hundred years from now we’re still giving shots to every human child ever born—but then that’s what we did before the Break as well, isn’t it? Vaccinations and antibiotics and a whole chemical stew. Even before RM, the world had become far more hostile to our species than we like to admit.”

  There was something odd about him that Kira couldn’t quite put her finger on. She’d grown up as a medical intern, spending her entire life around doctors, and this Dr. Vale was . . . different. He didn’t talk like a doctor.

  “What we need,” he continued, gesturing toward the darkened window behind him, “is a cure that works like our Preserve.”

  “What do you mean?” asked Kira.

  Vale smiled again. “The paradise we live in was once so deadly it was restricted territory, devoid not only of humans but of plants and animals as well. A barren wasteland, much like the one you crossed, but now the tables are turned, aren’t they? What nuclear technology destroyed, biotechnology resurrected.”

  Kira frowned. “This place was nuked?”

  “No, no, no,” said Vale, “or at least not in the way you’re thinking. The Rocky Flats Plant was a nuclear weapons facility for World War II, the first site chosen for the production of hydrogen bombs. More radioactive material passed through here than through the entire city of Hiroshima, but technology, as we have seen, has a way of getting out of hand. The facility became such a health hazard it was completely dismantled, and after decades of cleanup efforts it was finally deemed safe for habitation—not by humans, of course, it wasn’t that safe, but who likes deer anyway? Let them have cancer, we don’t insure them. Thus was born, in the year 2000, the Rocky Flats Wildlife Preserve, and thus it stayed for more decades, clean enough to mollify our consciences without actually being clean. Such is the human capacity for altruism.”

  “You mentioned biotech,” said Kira. She wasn’t sure where he was going with any of this, but at least he was talking. Kira pushed him along, trying to learn more. “I’m guessing that’s when ParaGen showed up.”

  “You guess correctly,” said Vale. “ParaGen, the front-runner in a burgeoning new industry. We weren’t always here—we started on the south side, in Parker—but our first foray into the realm of biotechnology was a series of hungry microbes designed to eat things that no one else wanted—”

  “You worked for ParaGen?” Kira blurted out.

  “Naturally,” said Vale. He glanced at Samm, still stiff in his chair, then looked back at Kira. “It was my background in biotechnology that made the cure possible.”

  Kira had to force herself not to leap up out of her chair—a biotechnologist from ParaGen? Was he part of the Trust? She was bursting with questions, but wasn’t sure yet how to approach him: If she just came out and asked about the Partials or the expiration date or the Failsafe or anything else, would he answer her? Would he clam up? Would he fly into a rage? She decided to keep him talking, to get a read on his personality. “You built microbes?”

  “Microbes that ate waste products,” he said, practically giddy to be discussing the topic. “Radiation. Heavy metals. Poisonous chemicals. All very different things, but all, in their own way, a perfect energy source for an organism designed to use it. A couple of government contracts, a few years for the microbes to work their magic, and all of a sudden the poor, bedraggled Rocky Flats was a Garden of Eden. A success like that leads to more contracts, bigger projects, bigger checks; a few more successes and you can start writing your own checks, and one of them turned out to be Rocky Flats itself, a vast tract of perfect real estate that nobody else would ever want. Our karmic reward for saving it, and still the microbes churn away in the soil, holding back the toxic wasteland and maintaining our little corner of paradise.”

  He loves to talk about this stuff, thought Kira. Should I push him a little further? She cleared her throat. “So you were part of the research team that created new organisms.”

  “That I am,” said Vale. He glanced at Samm again, still as cold and silent as a statue. Kira wondered what was wrong, but Vale looked back at her with a kind smile. “I’m a geneticist, to the extent that any genetics work is even possible these days. The cure I have is workable, for now, but I need something that works like those microbes—something that lives under the surface and spreads itself out and protects us without any guidance or intervention. Something that passes from mother to child.”

  “But what you have now is still a cure,” said Kira. “It still works. Where we come from in New York, we haven’t had an infant live past three days since the Break. We found a way to cure one child a few months ago, but that’s it. We have one miracle child, but you have hundreds. We’ve been trying to reproduce our cure and we can’t do it, but you could give us a future. Please—I’m a medic, I’ve trained for this exact moment my entire life. Take me to your lab, show me how you do it, and we could save tens of thousands of children. An entire generation.” Kira felt herself crying. “We could have a future again.”

  “The cure isn’t portable,” said Vale.

  “What?” She furrowed her brow in confusion. “How could it not be portable?”

  “You’ll see,” said Vale.

  Kira stood up. “Right now.”

  “Be patient,” he said, waving her back to her chair. She didn’t sit down. “I want to help, but we have to be careful..”

  “What is there to be careful about?”

  “We have a delicate balance here in the Preserve,” he said. “I’ll help you, but I need to do it without upsetting that balance.”

  “Then let us help you,” said Kira eagerly. “I’ve studied RM, we’ve crossed the wasteland, we know the terrain and the politics and everything else. What do you need to know?”

  “Nothing tonight,” said Vale. “I’ll talk to you tomorrow.”

  Kira clenched her fists in frustration. “What about the expiration date?” she asked. He looked up, eyes wide and curious, as if he didn’t understand. “The Partial expiration date,” she said again, “the mechanism in their genome that kills them after twenty years. Do you know anything about
it? Have you figured out how it works?”

  “The others will find you a place to stay,” said Vale, rising from his chair and walking to the door. His voice was less certain now, his joy at discussing the microbes replaced with a mumbling uncertainty. “It’s going to rain tonight, and microbes or not, you don’t want to be caught outside.”

  “Why won’t you answer me?” Kira demanded.

  “I’ll answer you tomorrow,” he said. “Follow Calix, and I’ll send for you in the morning.” He opened the door and gestured toward the hallway.

  “First thing in the morning,” said Kira. “Promise us.” Samm stood to follow her.

  “Of course,” said Vale. “First thing.”

  Calix had been sitting on the floor in the hallway, and rose quickly to her feet. “We need to hurry,” she said. “The acid rains are coming soon; everyone else will be inside.” She looked at Samm. “You can stay at my place—both of you—but we’ll have to hurry.”

  Kira looked back at Vale, his maddening smile still pasted to his face. “First thing,” she said, and turned to follow Calix as she ran down the hall.

  They reached the front door and Calix looked out carefully, peering up at the thick black storm clouds that filled the sky. “No rain yet. Come on.” She ran out, and Kira moved to follow her, but Samm caught Kira’s arm.

  “Wait,” he said, and leaned in to whisper in Kira’s ear. His voice was so soft she could barely hear it. “Did you feel it?”

  “Feel what?”

  “Dr. Vale,” said Samm. “I felt him on the link. He’s a Partial.”

  CHAPTER FORTY

  Calix lived a few buildings away, and they made it just as the first acid drops fell and splatted on the ground. “The stuff ParaGen put in the dirt helps keep the plants safe,” said Calix, “but you don’t want the acid on you.” A large man stood in the doorway, holding it open for them to race inside, and chided them for cutting it so close.