—It’s pink and green.
She flicks her fingers and something similar appears, but it’s blue and green and the blobs look more geometric.
—This is it too, but a different sample. From someone else. And it’s like that. I mean, whoever it’s in, it’s different in them. Not just how its traits manifest, but its appearance. Which is the weirdest thing about it. And it had me totally pissed at it.
Sela grunts.
I point at her.
—Is she gonna try and kill me?
—Um, I don’t think so. I mean, I don’t know, but mostly she’s cool after a little blood. Mostly she’s like herself. But she’s been hungry so long now, months, so she’s also mostly kind of feral. But I think you’re cool.
I move toward the gun racks.
Sela growls.
I move away from the gun racks. Remembering how I looked for cigarettes and booze instead of setting myself up with a piece.
Now I’m starting to get itchy about the clock.
Amanda is still going on about the Vyrus.
—But I’m thinking primal thoughts now. Earthy. Who needs space? I mean, we all came from something. That LUCA thing? That’s our slime. The primordial one they’re always going on about in PBS specials. But what was it that took the pre-nucleus slime and gave it a nucleus? Made it into nuclear cellular stuff.
A slide that looks like an organ that’s been pierced from the inside by glass rods.
—Take some pre-LUCA bacteria. No nucleus. A cell without a nucleus. Perfectly normal stuff. Lots of it all over the place. And say, I mean, say for fun there’s a pre-LUCA virus. Which is generally considered primal bullshit because what’s a virus living off of back then, but we don’t care about that because we all know just how weird stuff really is. So we have this thing, this virus, with a strong ability to mutate and persist, and we have it penetrating some bacterium. And what, I mean, what if it mutated into a nucleus? I mean. And all.
Been here an hour, I think. Still plenty of time before Predo crashes in, I think. But time to get it together and figure out-
Wait, what did she say?
—What did you say?
—I said.
She spins toward me.
—I said, Joe, I said what if we’re all, all of us, what if all life is descended from a virus? I mean.
—Wait.
—I mean, the Vyrus, I mean. What if. Because–
—Wait.
—There’s more.
—I didn’t finish fucking high school. Wait.
She waits.
I think a little. But it’s not like it helps.
So I take a drink instead. And that shakes it loose.
—Why aren’t we all infected?
—HERV. Human endogenous Retrovirus.
I take another drink. No help.
—I don’t think any of this matters.
She spins her chair.
—It’s the remains of viral material scattered in the human genome. But it’s not all the same.
She points one index finger at herself and the other at me.
—My HERV is different from your HERV.
I rub my eye. I have a headache. A bad one. I want to punch someone. It reminds me of how I felt every day at school.
—I was infected.
—Yeah-huh.
—Someone chewed on my neck to get at my blood and some of his blood got into me and I was infected. That happened.
—OK.
She spins again.
—But not really.
She flicks another slide. Two shapes. One with a corkscrew of material sprouting from its side, looking like it’s stretching toward a hole in the other blob.
—I mean, that happened and all, but what you were was more like you were triggered.
She points at the screen.
—Like this.
She taps a button.
The corkscrew grows.
—The Vyrus, active, it’s got a prong. Usually. Some Vyrus doesn’t. Active, inactive. No prong.
The tip enters the hole on the other blob and begins to twist, drawing them closer together.
—Inactive, the Vyrus has a, and I know it’s all very sexual and all, but I didn’t make it up so don’t blame me, but it has a hole. The inactive Vyrus.
It twists in until the two shapes are snug together.
—Watch, this is the gross part.
The blob with the corkscrew starts pushing into the tiny hole, pulling itself inside.
—Gah.
With a final lurch it disappears, as if it were sucked in at the end.
—Aaand now we get an eclipse phase where everything looks normal for a while. We can zip past that.
She taps a button, the image vibrates, blurs, stops when she taps the button again.
—Here.
The blob shivers, pulses and turns inside out, erupting from the tiny hole, coalescing, and suddenly still. Warted now, in a violent yellow, and with a prickle of corkscrews clustered where the hole was.
—And that’s what happened.
I’m looking at the screen. She’s looking at me.
I shake my head.
She nods.
—An active Vyral cell, with a nucleus stolen from a cell in its host’s body, enters a new host and infects an inactive Vyrus with no nucleus. Gives it the tools to reproduce. And it does.
She taps the screen.
—This little fucker will screw just about any cell it can get to. Screw in, mutate, pop out more and more specialized components. I mean. And now, now, it’s not just that it’s active and ready to go to work on the host where before it was just this dormant scrap of HERV all this time, hitching a ride on the genome, now it’s ready to drop into a new body and look for another bit of Vyral HERV with the right kind of hole.
She waves a hand.
—It’s a randy dude, alright.
She twists toward me.
—See, Joe, that’s what I mean. I mean, it was always there in you. Just waiting. Just waiting for the right person to come along and wake it up.
She touches my arm.
—What it is, is it’s you. Just on the outside now.
I think of the worm, eating its own tail. The kind of sense that makes, that’s the kind of sense what she’s saying makes. Follow it around all the way, you come back to the head. Take that last bite, and then what? Where do you go from there?
Some stuff, I can’t swallow.
I walk over to Phil and kick him fully awake.
—Get up and roll me a smoke.
He gets up and rolls me a smoke and I light it.
—Predo’s gonna be here in a little while.
Amanda is watching the recording play out again.
—Uh-huh.
I look at the door to the living quarters.
—You and Sela the only ones left in here?
—I mean.
—Because it’s time to go now. I got a plan for how we get out and past Predo, but we got to start now.
—Really, I mean.
—So if anyone else is here we need to get them together and move.
—Joe.
On the screen, the active Vyrus cell is infecting the other again.
Amanda watches.
—It’s not like I’m going to let you take her with you.
—I figured you and Sela would both come.
The new Vyrus explodes out of itself.
—High school diploma or not, Joe, you’re not stupid. Don’t pretend.
Phil’s by the exit with his hand on the knob.
—Someone say something about leaving?
I’ve got a hand on the door to the living quarters.
—For the sake of argument, Amanda, say I am that stupid.
She lets go with a good old-fashioned bored-with-the-world teenager sigh like she used to do when I first met her.
—I’m not going to let you take her with you.
I’m pushing the door open.
/> Amanda is restarting the Vyral infection.
—You can’t take Chubby’s daughter.
The door is open.
On the bed, legs twisted together, a teenage pregnant girl and a boy, sleeping.
I look at Amanda.
She gets up from her chair.
—I need her here.
She crosses to me, pointing back at her monitors.
—This is, I mean, this is just getting started. A cure, that’s still what, I mean, all this.
She lifts her arms to the building around us.
—Why? Because a cure. And I mean, Predo, whatever, because we’re not afraid. We have.
She chews the ends of her hair.
—We have stuff, Joe. We’re not defenseless girls.
She lets the hair fall from the corner of her mouth.
—And I just need her. Is it rocket science? It’s not.
We both look at Chubby’s sleeping daughter.
—Joe, you had, what you had, you had a girlfriend? Right. Something happened. She was sick. OK. I’ve heard the stories. It’s like, Joe, your private life is like gossip central. This girl you had hidden all secret. And, bits and pieces, I hear, she was sick. And you tried to infect her. But she wasn’t Vyrus positive to start with. So when your Vyral cells went into her, they just killed what they found. Because there was no socket that fit them. She wasn’t like you. And before that, you were with her for, I mean, I hear it was years, and the thing is, knowing you and what all, we think, people say, you and her, you never hooked up. Really. All the way. Because you were afraid it would infect her. And you only tried at the end ‘cause she was dying. I mean.
She lifts her eyebrows.
—Half it’s just impossibly romantic, and half it’s just impossibly lame.
I’m thinking about what Predo said about how I’m spontaneous with bullets. I’m thinking he’s right. I’m thinking maybe it’s better I don’t have any to use right now.
Still, I want them.
She must not see it in my eye, because she won’t shut up.
—Because it just doesn’t work that way. I mean, Joe, and I don’t want to hurt you, but you could have been fucking your brains out. But you’re not special that way, not knowing. Everything anyone knows about the Vyrus, it’s all anecdotal. And there’s only so many people to ask. And a guy like you, I’m guessing that asking about the facts of life wasn’t what you were comfortable with. Which I totally get. I mean, my mom practically gave me a demo when I was nine, and did I need that? No. So someone mentioned something around you about how no one knew how the Vyrus really transmitted and you went all celibate. But them.
She points at the kids on the bed.
—They didn’t care. They were just into each other. Just hot kids who wanted to do it.
She shrugs.
—Fucking won’t infect Delilah. But the baby. I need to see what happens with the baby is all.
She looks up at me.
—And it’s just too early to take it out.
—Are you here to save us?
We look at the pregnant girl, pushed up on her elbow, rubbing sleep from her eyes.
—Please tell me you’re here to save us.
I shake my head.
—No, I’m just here because your dad wants to see you.
She shakes the boy.
—Awake, Benjamin, he’s here to save us.
Amanda shakes her head.
—Really, Joe, is it any wonder I drugged her. She will not stop talking like that.
I take a step toward the kids as the boy starts to rouse.
—Whatever.
Amanda clucks her tongue.
—Sela.
The blade is in my hand, my arm is wrapped around Amanda’s neck, the edge is on her throat.
Sela is on the balls of her feet, I can see the flutter of pulse under her jaw. Too fast. She’s at zero percent body fat. Her skin is starting to get that stretched look. Everything about her looks stretched to the limit.
—Let her go, Joe.
—Open the door, Phil. Kids, over here.
Phil fiddles with the knob.
—Um, I got this feeling, Uh, like, if I open the door Sela will kill me.
—So stay here, Phil. Be here when Predo comes. Better, Predo doesn’t come, be here when Amanda can’t let enough blood herself to keep Sela alive. Phil, why the fuck do you think you’re still here in the first place?
He hangs his head.
—Maaan. That sucks.
Sela twitches.
—Gonna finally kill Joe Pitt.
—Thought we always got along OK, Sela.
—Till you put a knife at my girl’s throat. Till you found those bleeding children in that hole in Queens and did nothing.
—Oh, that.
Chubby’s daughter has gotten the boy awake. I step from the door to let them past.
—Phil.
—I don’t know, man.
—Just run. Leave the keys. Take the kids and run. She won’t come after you.
—Awww, shiiit!
He yanks the door open and runs, not with the kids, but he does drop the keys.
Exceeding expectations.
Delilah is dawdling.
—And you, sir?
I don’t look from Sela.
—Start downstairs. Don’t stop. Just keep going until they run out.
The boy points at Sela.
—You want help with her? I’m, you know, I’m like you.
—Kid.
Tighten my grip on Amanda.
—Seriously, you’re not.
The girl grabs him and pulls him out the door.
—Come, Benjamin, we must flee.
They’re gone.
Amanda tilts her head a bit, baring her throat further.
—Come on, Joe.
I start backing toward the door.
—Sela, just get him off me, will you, I mean.
She laughs.
—It’s Joe. He won’t hurt me.
Sela takes a step for each of mine.
—Be quiet, baby.
—Just get him off me and go get the girl and the baby.
We’re at the door.
Sela bounces in place.
—Kill you, Joe.
Amanda lifts her chin higher yet.
—Come on, Joe, slit it. Sela, he won’t. He can’t. Just come over here and he’ll push me at you and run. He won’t even use me as a shield. He won’t risk hurting me if you two fight. Just scare him off me, knock him down and, I mean, the baby, Sela.
—Be quiet, babe.
I back us through the door into the hall.
—Pull it closed.
Amanda goes limp.
—No.
Sela steps closer.
—Do not play games with him.
I jerk her upright.
—Amanda.
—Joe, dear.
—I killed your mom. I murdered her.
She stiffens a little.
—That’s a lie.
Sela, getting closer.
—Babe.
I think about Amanda’s mom. Her neck breaking. Just after she kissed me. A long time ago.
—I killed her. And if you want to know why, close the fucking door.
Amanda reaches for the door as I let her go.
Sela moves.
It’s shut. I have the keys, snap a lock, and run.
Amanda grabs me.
—Joe. Tell me.
The door rattles in its frame. Double cylinder locks, take a key to go in or out. Sela will have to find hers to open it. Seconds. More if she loses it and goes feral.
—Joe.
I look at Amanda.
Worm at the middle of the world.
I sheath the blade.
—Girl, you don’t want to know.
I shove her away, vault the banister, hit the next landing down, feel it in my bad knee.
Door being pounded above, Sela screaming. Doors pounded b
elow, howling, increasing floor by floor as Phil and the kids descend.
But all I can hear is her.
—You couldn’t do it, Joe. You couldn’t hurt me. Not really. You couldn’t.
But she’s crying while she says it.
So I know it’s not true.
I can hurt anyone. Experience counts for something.
We’re fucked before we hit the ground floor.
I catch up to Chubby’s kid and her boy. She’s waddling down the stairs, he’s got her arm, helping her. I hit the landing next to them, racket from the door there, whatever’s behind it can smell her blood.
I grab the girl and swing her off the floor and turn to the kid.
—Carry her.
He takes a step back.
—She’s a little heavy right now.
She’s trying to writhe out of my arms.
—No one need carry me.
Door upstairs is hammered. Sela screams.
—She’s going to rip off your legs if she catches you.
I shove the girl into the kid’s arms and drop her and he takes the weight of her before she hits the ground.
—Run.
He takes off, faster now, but not fast enough. I follow to the next landing, one of the empty floors. Quieter upstairs. Sela’s stopped screaming. No smell of blood outside their doors, the good people on the upper floors have settled down.
I hear a jingle of keys at the top.
Because any asshole would know that Amanda has a set of keys. Shit.
When the door on this floor came down they used a catering table as a battering ram. One of the steel legs is on the ground. I pick it up. It’s hollow, the top jagged and bent where it was ripped from the bottom of the table.
I can hear Amanda whispering, jingle of keys, snap of the lock, the bang of the door slamming open and I look up and Sela is over the banister and dropping, flicking her arms, she pushes off the narrow middle of the stairwell, silent now, just the rush of air as she falls at me, little thumps as she controls her plunge, sounds like a giant cat running on a wood floor, headfirst she’s coming, gives a hard shove off the opposite rail just above, changing course, sudden angle onto my landing, heedless, fast, she’ll break me when she hits. The steel table leg will bend around her when I swing it, thin and feeble, but it might knock her off course long enough for me to run another half flight.
Guns. Why am I always losing guns?
She’s in my face.
I jam the jagged end at her, catching the soft flesh above her collarbone, her momentum forcing it deep and she slams into me and we both go down, her blood sprays my face, tastes like acid on my tongue, I can’t reach the blade, she screams and wheels off me, table leg jutting from her shoulder, right arm hanging at her side, something inside severed. I push to the edge of the landing and tumble down, crawl, she’s making wet coughing noises, the end of the leg in her lung. I tumble down the next flight.