Cruel World(129)

“So you three are it?” Alice asked. “You’re all that’s left?”

“We have two more. One is Sergeant Collincz. She’s over attending to Doctor Holtz in the rear of the compound.”

“What about him?” Quinn asked, pulling out the ID card with Harold Roman’s picture on it. “Did you know him?” Wexler took the card from him and glanced up.

“Where did you get this?”

“I found it in the pack I was wearing earlier. Roman was hiding in a distributing warehouse on the east side of Fort Dodge. He’d been injured, looked like a stilt bit him. He died in the middle of the night,” Quinn said.

Wexler grimaced and turned the ID card over and over in his hands.

“He disappeared three nights ago while on watch. He was a lab technician from Minnesota, showed up right when we were first setting camp. We had to recruit him to help watch the walls after everyone died. I was sure he’d been taken.”

“He was also carrying this,” Quinn said, opening the paper with the medical terminology on it. Wexler read through it and after a moment, shook his head, handing it back.

“Doesn’t make a lick of sense to me.”

“I can’t understand it either, but that’s my father’s signature on the very bottom.”

Wexler took out the pack of cigarettes again, pulling one free before rolling it between his fingers. “You could try showing it to Holtz, but don’t get your hopes up.”

“Why’s that?” Quinn asked.

“Because he’s lost touch with reality the last few days. He’s a military doctor and was working in a lab here on base when everyone started developing the fever and dropping dead. He tried everything that they sent him as far as vaccines and even made quite a few of his own, from what I understand, before his wife fell ill.” Wexler tucked the cigarette away for later. “When she died, he became unstable, didn’t sleep for days and started babbling nonsense to anyone that came within earshot. He’s been asleep for over twenty-four hours, and we’ve been taking turns checking on him.”

“I’d like to see him,” Quinn said.

“Me too,” Alice said, coming to her feet.

Wexler gazed at them and then out at the rain before standing to grab several ponchos off the floor.

“You’re going to need these. It’s a bit of a walk.”

~

They trudged through the curtains of rain as the wind tried to tug the plastic ponchos from their bodies. Thomas gave Wexler a short signal from the wall before resuming his vigil of the surrounding land. They made their way down the first row of tents, the openings flapping in the wind like beckoning hands. Denver eyed each one warily as they passed as if he expected something to rise from inside.

Wexler lead at a brisk pace, not looking around, head down, hands gripping his weapon. The land slowly sloped away, gradually at first and then more quickly. An access road, packed solid by dozens of tires, ran parallel to the north wall, disappearing from their view as it made a sharp turn and dropped away. The rain fell harder until they could only see a dozen strides ahead, the water undulating like a living thing. Lightning flashed again, and Quinn made out a low, dark building a hundred yards away, its features hidden by the storm. Beyond that was something he couldn’t quite understand, his mind fumbling with the information relayed in the brief blast of light. They hurried toward the building. It was only when they were close enough to see the plastic windows set in its sides and the light glowing within that he realized what lay beyond the building itself.

The land completely dropped away into nothing fifty paces past the shelter.

He had the impression of an unfathomable hole without a bottom and then the wind shifted, obscuring everything into a rain-washed haze.

“Inside!” Wexler said, holding the door open for them. Ty and Denver went in first, Alice following. Halfway through the entry, she slipped on the slick partition, her arms flying out to steady herself. Quinn stepped forward, knowing he couldn’t catch her, but then Wexler’s arm was there, wrapping around her mid-back and holding her close. She glanced up at him, her eyes wide and he smiled.

“Okay?” he asked. She nodded and regained her footing before going inside. Quinn looked down at the ground as he passed the soldier. Wexler held the door for him saying, “Careful, it’s slippery.”

“I got it,” Quinn said, stepping inside the building.

The structure was steel-framed construction with heavy poles secured in the earth, cement surrounding their bases. The shell was a tough canvas, its sides dotted with plastic widows beaded with rain. Medical equipment was everywhere. There were five cots, all missing their bedding, against one wall while the very front of the building was dedicated to computers and slim machines attached to them with snaking cables. A plastic curtain hung in the center of the space and a light shone behind it. A dark figure, only a smudged outline that moved toward them, drew a break in the curtain aside.