The Liger Plague (Book 1) (34 page)

She shook her head no. He reached in his pack for the aspirin and gave each of them four capsules. It took all their effort to down the pills. Then he took out the syringe needle, filled it with the immunoglobulin and plunged it into his stomach. He felt like he might pass out from this latest assault on his body. Fez had been carrying the rest of the vaccine, which he was supposed to take in regular doses over the next week. Obviously that wouldn’t happen now.

“Did you know the person who abducted you?” he asked his wife.

She shook her head.

“Was it a man?”

She nodded.

“Can you write down what he looked like?”

She lifted her deformed hands and showed them to Tag, and he knew right away that she couldn’t grip a pencil even if she wanted. He turned to Versa, who stood staring sympathetically down at Taylor.

“Thanks for helping us, Versa. You don’t know how happy I am to see you.”

“We’re here to help each other. I really could care less if you hate me, Colonel.”

He laughed. “I don’t hate you, Versa. In fact, I admire you greatly.”

“Personally, I don’t give a damn if you like me or not. Save the touchy-feely stuff for your family,” she said, looking around the room.

“Where’s Cooper?”

“Didn’t make it either.”

“What do you mean he didn’t make it?”

“He went out to check on the two inflatable rafts while you were gone. He keeps them out in the garage. Supposedly one of them has an engine filled with gas and ready to use, but he never made it back. I had the rifle and tried to save the old fool, but there were too many of them sickos out there. He came very close to reaching the gate, but they caught up with him and dragged him off into the woods. I couldn’t shoot the sick bastards fast enough.”

“Damn!”

“At least he filled up the generator.”

The news of Cooper’s death hit him hard. He stood up and limped over to the kitchen window to stare out over the water, sadness filling him. A Coast Guard vessel cruised through the channel, flashing its lights and searching for anyone trying to escape, but by now most of the survivors had either died or had caught the plague.

Versa turned on the television. She’d draped a blanket over it so that the light from the flashing screen could not be seen from the bay. He walked over and sat on the arm of the sofa and stared numbly at the screen. Many of the stations had been covering the events 24/7 since the outbreak had occurred, and they were now reporting that the Navy Seals would soon be arriving on the island.

“Them Seals are coming over tonight come hell or high water, Colonel. Countries all over the world are demanding that they return these sickos to the mainland in one piece. And all the poxers’ families are waiting port side. There are wing nuts protesting along the Portland waterfront, and thousands of people are waiting in front of the terminal to see what happens,” Versa said.

“I was told that they were going to take all survivors to a secret location.”

“Not what they’re reporting on the news. Governments around the world want to send their best medical people over in order to examine the infected. And their families are demanding to know what happened to their loved ones. They’re saying that once everyone gets off this island, they’re going to slash and burn everything on it. Bastards want to turn my home into a goddamn parking lot. Where will I go then, Colonel? I got no family, and this island’s the only place I know.”

“I have no idea.”

“Of course you don’t. You got your own problems to worry about. You’re America’s most wanted.”

“Are they still reporting that I’m responsible for causing this?”

“See for yourself.”

A photograph of Tag’s face appeared onscreen. Everyone in the country must have been convinced that he’d been responsible for creating this virus and planting it on Cooke’s. The U.S. government obviously needed a convenient scapegoat to offer up to the world. Maybe his conviction was a fait accompli and his guilt or innocence was beside the point. And even if by some miraculous event he did manage to escape this island, where would he go to hide out?

“What’s your plan now, Colonel?” Versa asked him.

“I’m not really sure.”

“I got an idea. Cooper’s got two rubber rafts sitting in the garage. If we can somehow drag them out to the water, maybe we can create a diversion, and then you can motor out to one of the other islands. It’s a long shot, but I don’t see any other options. As much as I don’t want to leave this island, I’m not going to stay here and be a sitting duck either.”

“What about my wife and daughter?”

“The Coasties have stopped killing any escapees because of the political pressure put on them by the governments of the world. I’ll take them with me and tell the authorities who they are. Once they learn it’s your family, they’ll be sure to take them alive, maybe even use them as leverage to get you to surrender. Colonel, we’ve got to leave here as soon as possible before them Seals torch this entire place.”

“How do you propose we do that?”

“I been watching them Coasties circling the island. They pass every fifteen minutes or so. At the designated time I’ll take Monica and Taylor and motor out toward the mainland. It’s going to be dark out there, but those Coasties will eventually find us, and when they do, they’ll pick us up. You wait here until they do. Once they make the grab you start rowing to one of the islands. Maybe you can hide out there long enough until you figure out your next move. At least you won’t be here when they flatten it.”

“Has he got oars in the raft?”

“Do lobsters have claws? The old fart was a fisherman for godsakes.”

“Then it’s settled. It’s our only hope of getting off this island.”

“We’ll wait about an hour until it’s completely dark outside. That’ll increase our chances of escaping. Let’s hope the Seals don’t arrive before then.”

“Thank you for doing all this, Versa.”

Versa grumbled and turned away.

He sat back on the arm of the chair and watched the news. It took a few moments for him to realize that he would soon be separated from his family, and maybe for a long time. Not only Monica and Taylor, but his other two children as well. As difficult as this was, he knew he had no other choice until he could clear his name. Monica and Taylor needed medical help in the worst possible way. Hopefully it wouldn’t take very long before someone proved that he was innocent of this heinous crime and captured the real culprits. People on TV were calling him all kinds of names and saying he was one of the worst mass murderers in American history. How could they say such terrible things about him when he’d spent his entire career trying to keep the American public safe? Many terrorist attacks had been prevented because of his team’s research and many lives saved. Whoever had set him up for this event had done a good job. For the life of him, he had no idea who it could be or for what reason.

The thought of paddling through those dangerous ocean swells kept him on edge. His body hurt so bad that he wondered if he even had the energy to do it. Of course, he’d never stop trying or fighting for his family. Never in his life had he turned down a challenge, personally handling some of the most lethal viruses on the planet, viruses that would have killed him in a matter of days. He had to do it for his family and to clear his good name. His family needed him more than ever, and he would paddle through quicksand if that’s what had to be done. Then there was the memory of the kid. He felt as if he’d be dishonoring Fez’s name if he quit now.

He closed his eyes momentarily, feeling the sweeping cameralike flashbulb of the lighthouse’s beam once again whir past his vision. Without warning, he nodded off, aided by the rhythmic sound of the waves pounding against the rocks.

Chapter 24

Tag woke sometime later to the sound of the foghorn and the light of the television. Monica and Taylor were both asleep on the couch, blankets up to their chins. He looked around in the dark for Versa, but she was nowhere to be seen. Only the flickering of the television screen provided any light inside the room.

The news continued to relay the latest information about the situation on Cooke’s Island. A clip from earlier in the day rolled onscreen. An FBI hazmat team had set up a quarantine around his house in Maryland. Agents in hazmat suits ventured inside to search for evidence. The woman reporter said that small amounts of an unknown virus had been discovered inside the home, and it was rumored to be the same organism that had been released on Cooke’s Island.

His home computer had been confiscated, and they’d discovered more incriminating ‘evidence’ on the hard drive. Encrypted files were found to contain the engineering process by which he’d supposedly created the two-headed virus, which at this point even the reporters were calling the liger virus. Every encrypted file had the liger icon identifying it. Tag was both impressed and befuddled at how someone could have entered all that information onto his computer without his knowledge. Then again, computer technology had never been his strong suit.

Another photograph of him appeared onscreen, and the reporter gave a detailed history of his life, where he went to high school, college and medical school. They conducted interviews with his colleagues, friends, high school wrestling coach and neighbors, all of whom gave intimate details about their relationship with him. To a person, they all said they didn’t believe he was capable of committing such a crime. In fact, they claimed he would have been the last person in the world they would have ever suspected of harming American citizens. Which is why it made him the perfect suspect. Some of his colleagues admitted that he had a morbid sense of humor and often made crude jokes to ease the tension, such as how he’d like to drop a vial of Ebola virus on Congress. Of course he was hardly the only scientist who joked about such matters in the hot lab. Handling lethal viruses was such strenuous and difficult work that they all cracked jokes in order to alleviate the unbearable pressure of working with such contagious, deadly organisms.

Watching this in fascination, Tag knew that reporters could twist and contort anything he’d ever said or done to make him look guilty.

A photograph of the liger icon appeared onscreen, blown-up and magnified. It closely resembled the icon he’d seen spray-painted along the island streets. To fill out time a reporter gave a detailed history of the liger, explaining how it was not a mythical beast but a real animal produced from the mating of a male lion with a female tiger in captivity. The offspring produced from such a pairing was a massive animal, and much larger than either purebred species alone. Videos of real ligers played onscreen. The offspring of the male tiger and lioness was called a tigron and was much smaller than the liger. The metaphor aptly fit this newly engineered virus, combining the killing power, agility and strength of both cats.

The next clip saddened him. It showed the FBI escorting his two children on the mainland into FBI vans for questioning. He understood now that none of their lives would ever be the same. The anchor gave their names, ages, the colleges they attended and where they worked during the summer months. They put up photos of Taylor and Monica, followed by shots of their beautiful summer home on Cooke’s Island. A reel from one of the webcams was frozen to show Monica and Taylor standing on a street corner around the time the pox started to spread. The reporter blew up the photograph and used a pointer to show close-ups of them. They put up some still photographs of him and Fez making their way around the island, two of the few persons who had escaped catching the dreaded disease.

A female reporter came onscreen next and gave a detailed report about his wife, how she went to Yale and earned an MFA in Art Installations at The Museum School in Boston. Some of the gallery owners were shown talking about her unique glass sculptures. Her early art consisted of blown glass shaped in abstract patterns and painted in vivid, bright colors. Her most recent works, considering the current situation, seemed a shocking development and pointed to his guilt. She’d created a slew of glass sculptures shaped in the form of lethal viruses, the same ones that he’d studied at his hot lab. It was even reported that the FBI agents in hazmat suits had discovered that some of her glass sculptures mimicked the genetic makeup of the liger virus. They speculated about whether she’d actually known what kind of art she’d created or merely took whatever blueprints her husband had passed on, replicating them in blissful ignorance.

The station cut to a live shot of the navy ship anchored just off the coast. It appeared like a silhouette in the dark except for the series of lights flashing along the deck and hull. Unconfirmed reports claimed that a squad of Navy Seals was preparing to make their way onto the island at any moment. Quite possibly they were already on the island, having made their way covertly so as not to be seen.

Versa appeared out of the dark, surprising him. She switched off the television and sat on the coffee table.

“We’ve got to get those rubber rafts out of the garage now, Colonel.”

“Where have you been?”

“Borrowed your flashlight and went out to the garage while you were sleeping. None of them poxers were around, so I was able to move pretty easy. The old fisherman set us up pretty good. Had a generator and an air pump in there. I was able to blow up both of them rafts full bore. The outboard motor started up nicely after I pulled her cord a few times. Even found a couple of plastic paddles you can use to row off this island.”

“The poxers didn’t hear the engine?”

“Apparently not.” She shrugged. “We got to go out to that garage and get them before all those sickos show up. The outboard’s small, so we should be able to carry the raft no problem. It’s got a line on it too that we can use to tie up to the dock until it’s time to go.”

“Good, that way I’ll be able to carry Taylor and Monica out to them.”

“I’m going to wait until those Coasties pass before I head out toward the mainland. They’ll come after me for sure, but not before I make it halfway to Portland. That should give you enough time to get away, Colonel. And you better row like there’s no tomorrow, or you’ll be spending the rest of your life behind bars.”