Virals(55)

Eyes wide, I laser-scanned the kitchen. Zeroed in. The noises were coming from the window.

Zip!

My vision zoomed to an even higher level of sharpness. I spotted a housefly patrolling the windowsill. Dark lines crisscrossed its cellophane wings. A thousand tiny red bumps formed its eyes.

The insect was exploring with small hairy feet. Its proboscis sucked and probed. Wings vibrating, it tried to solve the riddle of the glass.

I swear my jaw actually dropped.

I can hear a fly from across the house. I can see specks of dirt clinging to its feelers.

SNUP.





My vision flickered, shrank back to normal. After the clarity of the last few moments my usual 20/20 seemed fuzzy and imprecise.

I listened. No whining or tapping.

I sprang up and hurried to the kitchen window. The fly was there, but its movements were now barely audible. Its wings and eyes just looked like wings and red spots.

Numb, I raised the sash. The insect darted free, oblivious to my confusion.

Don't flip out. You're clearly sick.

Smell. Sight. Sound. All out of whack.

What could possibly cause such sensory delusions?

My operating system had crashed and I didn't know the reboot command. I decided to contact the gang. Pronto.

Coughing and perspiring, I ran upstairs and logged on to my Mac. Two icons glowed. Hi and Shelton, online.

My fingers flew over the keys: Are you guys feeling weird? I'm slammed.

Shelton replied first: Sick as a dog. Pukesville.

Hi's icon popped up: Dying. Give my things to the poor.

OhmyGod. It wasn't just me.

I typed: Switch to iFollow. Conference mode.

I changed programs and waited. Minutes passed. Clicking back, I found two unread messages.

Shelton: Too tired. Going back to bed. Maybe later.

Hi: Stuck in the can. You don't want to know. Bye.

Crap balls.

I closed my computer. Perhaps a shower? That seemed normal. Safe.

I didn't make it.

Full body pins and needles. Grimace. Primal whine. Then, as before, all symptoms vanished.

I sat on my bedroom floor. Hugged my knees. Dripped sweat.

What the flip?

A tiny suspicion popped into being. Unfolded in my mind with ruthless logic, indifferent to the unease it created.

You know, it whispered. You unleashed it.

The breakin at Karsten's lab. The parvo experiment.

Cooper.

No. Canine parvovirus can't infect humans. The dog posed no danger to us.

Coop was the subject of a secret experiment, the suspicion hissed. Who knows what he was carrying?

Was that it? Had the virus changed? Mutated? Was Coop's infection more sinister than I suspected?

"Stop," I ordered myself aloud. "Quit being paranoid. The timing is coincidental."

But I don't believe in coincidence.

Why did we all get sick at once? Was Coop the only common factor? What were these insane reactions?

But Ben didn't get sick. He carried Coop from the lab, had as much exposure as anyone.

Cut the dramatics. You've got better things to do.

From nowhere, a different thought rocked me.

Study group! I was supposed to meet Jason and Hannah at noon.

Time check. Eleven forty-five. No chance I could make it. Worse, I hadn't done the work. The assignment had completely slipped my mind.

Not that it mattered. I was in no shape to see anyone. I had to cancel.

I composed a text, hitting hard on contrite:

Jason, So sorry, but I've been beaten down by the flu. In a rout. Can't meet today. Please apologize to Hannah for me, and I'll get my work to you on Monday. My bad for canceling late! Tory.

Send. Minutes passed. My eyes remained glued to my phone. Finally, a return message beeped in: Okay, get better. Later, J.

After crunching every possible nuance of the message, my brain punched out.

I closed my eyes and slept.





Two forty-five.

Great. Thirty minutes of wakefulness so far that day. Not my most productive Sunday.

I staggered downstairs, realized I was ravenous. No breakfast. No lunch. No surprise.

I pawed through the fridge, but had no appetite for my usual yogurt, veggies, or fruit. As though moving on their own, my hands grabbed a package of ground beef.

SNAP.

My nerves fired like jumper cables. A gong clanged in my head.

Without thinking, I ripped off the wrapper and sank my fingers into the beef. My salivary glands went wild. I scooped a red, meaty handful and stuffed my mouth.

For a moment, pure ecstasy. Then my taste buds clocked in.

"Ech!"

I spat the half-chewed glob into the sink.

Raw meat? Disgusting!

But, for one brief flash, I'd wanted to devour the whole half pound. Fiercely. More than anything else in the world.

Okay. You've lost it. It's a fact.

Like some shadowy creature, my dark idea taunted me from the depths of my mind. I drew a breath, tried to regain control.

Easy. Easy.

When I finally looked up, a twisted version of my face reflected back from the faucet. The gleaming chrome warped my features like a funhouse mirror.

Only no fun here. My eyes glowed a deep, primal gold.

"No!"

I slid to the floor, squeezed my lids tight. Tears trickled down my cheeks.