All power is being redirected to keeping the lab up and running, so I am writing down my findings here, in case we lose it all. Then, if something happens to me, perhaps the project can continue from the notes I will leave behind.
We continue to lose patients at an alarming rate. Early tests with the samples from the New Covington lab have been disastrous, with our human subjects dying outright. We have not had a single patient survive the infusion of vampire blood. I hope the team in New Covington can send us samples we can actually work with.
—Dr. Robertson, head scientist of the D.C. Vampire Project
I shuddered. So, it sounded like the scientists here had been working with the New Covington lab, only they’d been experimenting on humans instead of vampires. That couldn’t be good. I flipped a couple more pages and read on.
Day 52 of the Human-Vampire experiment,
The power grid in the city has gone down. We are running on the emergency backup generators, but we might have had our first breakthrough today. One of the patients that we injected with the experimental cure did not immediately die. She became increasingly agitated and restless minutes after receiving the injection, and appeared to gain the heightened strength of the vampire subjects. Interestingly, she became increasingly aggressive, to the point where her mental capacities appeared to shut down and she resembled a mad or rabid animal. Sadly, she died a few hours later, but I am still hopeful that a cure can be found from this. However, some of the younger assistants are beginning to mutter; that last experiment rattled them pretty badly, and I don’t blame them for wanting to quit. But we cannot let fear hinder us now. The virus must be stopped, no matter what the cost, no matter what the sacrifice. Mankind’s survival depends on us.
We’re close, I can feel it.
A chill crawled down my spine. I turned the page and kept reading.
Day 60 of the Human-Vampire experiment,
I received a rather frantic message today from the lead scientist at the New Covington lab. “Abort the project,” he told me. “Do not use any more of the samples on human patients. Shut down the lab and get out.”
It was shocking, to say the least. That the brilliant Malachi Crosse was telling me to abandon the project.
I’m sorry, my friend. But I cannot do that. We are close to something, so very close to a breakthrough. I cannot abandon months of research, even for you. The samples that came in yesterday are the key. They will work, I am sure of it. We will beat this thing, even if I have to inject my own assistants with the new serum. It will work.
It must. We are running out of time.
I swallowed hard, then turned to the very last entry. This one was blotched and messy, as if the author had written it in a great hurry.
The lab is lost. Everyone is dead or will be dead soon. Don’t know what happened, those monsters suddenly everywhere. Malachi was right. Shouldn’t have insisted we go through with the last experiment. This is all on me.
I’ve locked myself in my office. Can’t go out, not with those things running around. I only hope they don’t find a way back to the surface. If they do, heaven help us all.
If anyone finds this, the remaining samples of the retrovirus have been placed in freezer number two in cryogenic storage. And if you do find them, I pray that you will have better success than I, that you will use them to find a cure for Red Lung and for this new monstrosity we have unleashed.
“Hey.” Jackal appeared in the doorway before I could finish the entry. He jerked his head into the hall, serious for once. “I found something. And I think you’d better see this.”
Taking the journal, I followed him, already suspecting what I would find. We swept through another pair of metal doors, into a small, bare room with tiled floors and walls. It was colder in here; if I were a human, my breath would be billowing out in front of me and bumps would be raised along my skin. Looking across the room, I saw why.
Four large white boxes stood along the back wall. They looked like bigger versions of normal refrigerators, except I’d never seen a working one before. One of the doors was open, and a pale mist writhed out of the gap, creeping along the ground.
Silently, I walked up to the door and pulled it back, releasing a blast of cold. Inside, rows of white shelves greeted me. The shelves were plastic and narrowly spaced, and tiny glass vials winked at me from where they stood in tiered holders.
Jackal stepped behind me. “Notice anything … missing?” he asked softly.
I scanned the shelves, and saw what he meant. Near the top, one of the layers was gone, as if it had been pulled out and never returned.
Jackal followed my gaze, his eyes darkening. “Somebody took something from this freezer,” he growled. “None of the others are touched. And that someone was here recently, too. Now, who do you think that could be?”
I shivered and stepped back, knowing exactly who it had been. As I shut the door, my gaze went to the simple, hand-drawn sign taped to the front, just to confirm what I already knew.
Freezer 2, it read in faded letters.
Sarren, I thought, feeling an icy chill spread through my veins. What the hell are you planning?
“Well,” Jackal muttered, crossing his arms. “I will say I am officially more disturbed than I was when we first started. I don’t know what was in that freezer, but I can hazard a pretty good guess, which just seems all kinds of bad news.” His voice was flippant, but his eyes gleamed dangerously. “There’s no cure here, that’s for certain. So, I guess the million-dollar question is—what would a brilliantly insane psychotic vampire want with a live virus, and where is he taking it now?”
Sarren had the Red Lung virus. The thought was chilling. What did he want with it? Where was he going? And how did Kanin figure into everything? At a loss, I looked down at the forgotten journal, at the unfinished entry on the last page.
I pray that this can be stopped. I pray that the team in New Covington is already working on a way to counter this. The lab there was designed to go into stasis if anything happened. It may be our only salvation now.
May God forgive us.
And I knew.
The journal dropped from my hands, hitting the floor with a thump. I felt Jackal’s eyes on me, but I ignored him, dazed from the realization. If Sarren wanted to use that virus, there was only one other place he could go. The place I’d sworn I would never return to.
“New Covington,” I whispered, as the path loomed unerringly before me, pointing back to where it all began. “I have to go home.”
CHAPTER 5
There were no spotlights up on the Wall.
In New Covington, the Outer Wall was the city’s shield, lifeline and best defense, and everyone knew it. The thirty-foot monstrosity of steel, iron and concrete was always lit up at night, with spotlights sliding over the razed ground in front of it and guards marching back and forth up top. It circled the entire city, protecting New Covington from the mindless horrors that lurked just outside, the only barrier between the humans and the ever-Hungry rabids. It was the one thing that kept the Prince in power. This was his city; if you wanted to live behind his Wall, under his protection, you had to consent to his rules.
In my seventeen years of living in New Covington, the Wall had never once been abandoned.
“Something is wrong,” I muttered as Jackal and I stood on the outskirts of the kill zone, the flat, barren strip of ground that surrounded the Wall. Pits, mines and coils of barbed wire covered that rocky field, making it deadly to venture into. Spotlights—blinding beams of light that were rumored to have