Legend

I clear my throat. The soldiers turn to me. I wait a few more seconds, then make a gagging sound and hunch over. I shake my head as if to clear my thoughts, then lean back against the wall and close my eyes.

The soldiers seem alert now. One of them points his rifle at me. They stay silent.

I keep up my act for another few minutes, gagging twice more as the soldiers continue to watch me. Then, without warning, I pretend to dry heave, then burst into a fit of coughs.

The soldiers look at each other. For the first time, I see an uncertain light come into their eyes.

“What’s wrong?” one of them snaps at me. It’s the one with the cocked rifle. I don’t answer him. I pretend to concentrate too hard on holding back another heave.

Another soldier glances at him. “Maybe it’s the plague.”

“That’s nonsense. The medics checked him already.”

The soldier shakes his head. “He was exposed to his brothers. That young one’s Patient Zero, isn’t he? Maybe the medics didn’t pick it up back then.”

Patient Zero. I knew it. I gag again, trying to turn away from the guards as I do it, so they think I don’t want their attention. I heave and spit on the floor.

The guards hesitate. Finally, the one with the cocked rifle nods at the soldier standing next to him. “Well, I don’t want to stick around in here if it is some weird mutated plague. Call for a bio team. Let’s have him brought to the medical ward cells.” The other soldier nods, then raps on the door. I hear it unlock from the outside. A soldier from the hallway ushers him outside, then quickly relocks the door.

The first soldier walks toward me. “The rest of you, keep your rifles on him,” he says over his shoulder. He holds out a pair of handcuffs. I pretend not to notice his approach, so busy am I with my gagging and coughing. “Get up.” He grabs one of my arms and pulls me roughly to my feet. I grunt in pain.

He reaches up and unlocks one of my hands from its chain, then clips it into the handcuffs. I don’t fight him. Then he unlocks the second hand. He gets ready to shove it into the handcuffs.

Suddenly I twist, and for a split second I’m free. Before he can react, I whirl, yank the gun out of his holster, and point it straight at him. The other two guards fix their rifles on me, but they don’t fire. They can’t do it without hitting the first soldier.

“Tell your boys outside to open the door,” I say to the soldier I’m holding hostage.

He swallows hard. The other soldiers don’t dare to blink. “Open the door!” he shouts. There’s commotion in the hall, then a few clicks. The first soldier bares his teeth at me. “There are dozens of them out there,” he snaps. “You’ll never make it.”

I just wink at him.

The instant the door opens a sliver, I grab the soldier’s shirt and shove him against a wall. One of the others attempts to fire at me—I duck to the floor and roll. Shots are fired all around me. They sound like rubber pellets. I break out of my roll in time to trip a soldier flat on his back. Even this makes me grit my teeth in pain. Damn this sore leg. I dart right through the opening before they can close it.

I take in the hallway scene in the blink of an eye. Soldiers litter the walkway. Ceiling tiles. Right-angle turn at the end of the hall. The walls say 4th Floor. The soldier who opened the door has started reacting—his hand goes to his gun as if in slow motion. I leap up, push off against one wall, and grip the top ledge of the door. My injured leg throws me off completely—I nearly fall back to the ground. More shots ring out. I swing up toward the ceiling and grab the crisscrossing metal between the tiles. Room 6822—sixth floor. I swing back down, kicking one soldier in the head with my good leg. He goes down, and I roll with him. I feel two rubber bullets hit him in the shoulder. He cries out. I crouch down and dart through the hall, dodging soldiers and guns, slipping out of the hands that reach for me.

I have to get to John. If I can get him out, we can help each other escape. If I can—

Then something heavy hits me across the face. My vision goes dark. I fight to concentrate, but I feel myself fall to the floor. I try to spring back to my feet, but someone knocks me down again, and a sharp pain makes my back twitch. A soldier must’ve hit me with the butt of a rifle. I feel hands pin my arms and legs down. My breath escapes me in a gasp.

Everything happens so fast that I can barely register all of it. My head swims. I think I’m going to pass out.

A familiar voice sounds out above me. It’s Commander Jameson. “What the hell is this!” She continues to shout at her soldiers. My vision gradually comes back. I realize I’m still trying to fight my way out of the soldiers’ grasp.