The Pandemic Sequence (Book 1): The Tilian Virus (31 page)

Faster than it had begun, his body plunged into the sun-warmed water, and he found himself floating to the surface. Exhilaration raced through him as he looked back towards the heights from where he had jumped. The small shape of his brother was visible against the blinding sun.

“Come on!” Jimmy shouted to him, but the boy did not move. Finally, after numerous calls of encouragement, his brother backed away from the edge. Jimmy was unsure if the disappearance meant his brother would make the jump or if his fear had gotten the better of him.

It was only a moment’s time before his question was answered. His brother’s small body cleared the edge of the cliff and began its fall. Jimmy swam the short distance to where his brother had splashed down. When he returned to the surface, the boy’s face was still a visage of panic.

“What’s wrong?” Jimmy asked him.

“I hit a rock with my knee,” the boy simpered as he fought back tears.

Jimmy took his brother’s arm over his shoulder and helped him swim over to the rocky shore line of the bowl-shaped quarry. Once out of the water, Jimmy could see why his brother was close to crying. A large gash on his left knee dug close to the bone, while a sickening flap of skin, the size of a half-dollar, hung from the bloody wound.

One of the other people on the lower level of the quarry handed Jimmy a shirt that he then pressed against his brother’s knee. The younger boy winced from the action.

“You have to keep pressure on it,” Jimmy told the boy.

“I didn’t want to do it,” he replied through sniffles.

Jimmy smiled at his brother. “I know. I shouldn’t have made you. But you did it, Mikey! You were afraid and you did it anyway! That’s really brave.”

“Yeah?” he asked, not sure if his older brother was being truthful.

“Yeah, it really was,” Jimmy replied before reminding his brother, “Mikey, you have to keep pressure it.”

* * *

“You have to keep pressure on it,” a familiar voice spoke, not Jimmy’s though. This one was older, more mature.

A second voice said something in response but the words jumbled together incoherently. Blurred shadows, black forms against white, danced across his vision. He was sure he was floating as the world rocked to and fro with soothing gentility.

“Come with us,” the second voice said. The words clearer to him now.

“I can’t,” spoke the first. “Not now.”

He could sense the owner of the first voice withdraw from his proximity, leaving only the one shadow which had grown more distinct.

“Mike, can you hear me? Look at me, Mike.”

The shadow soon became detailed and he recognized Paul standing over him.

“There ya go, buddy. You’re on the boat, Mike. The doc’s going to patch you up in a minute. Just hang in there. You’re going to be fine and waking up in Cuba,” Paul said to him.

“How…here?” Mike asked weakly.

“It was Derrick, Mike. He followed us, and found you. He brought you to the ship.”

As he tried to speak again, the familiar lapping of his skin by a warm tongue followed by the nuzzling of a wet nose brought a smile to his weary face. Derrick had saved them both it seemed.

Around him, Mike began to hear feet scurrying purposefully. Men shouted orders across the ship’s deck, and the low rumble of the engine reverberated as a soft breeze against his skin told him the ship was beginning its journey.

“Let’s get him down there. Their infirmary is pretty well stocked, so I have everything I need,” came Dr. Marena’s voice.

“Okay, Mike, the doc’s ready,” Paul informed him. “It’s going to be okay now, Mike. We’re going to Cuba. It’s over, Mike. We’re safe.”

“Safe,” Mike said, as hands lifted him from the deck and gently carried him below deck.

The story continues in:

The Tilian Effect:

Book Two of The Pandemic Sequence