Prologue
Grace Lake Hospital
The patient was writhing, his pale face slick with sweat. Doctor Norman Cooper watched with a perfectly composed expression as the man began to moan hoarsely, a frightful sound that made Della wince and cast her boss a worried look.
If she'd been looking for any kind of sympathy then she was going to be disappointed. Dr. Cooper didn't even glance in her direction, his attention fixed on the afflicted patient.
Damn, she thought, nothing can unsettle him.
"When was he admitted?" Dr. Cooper asked in an icy voice.
"His son brought him in three hours ago. Dr. Blake was on duty-"
Cooper didn't let Della finish. "Was he still conscious?"
Who, the patient or Blake? Dr. Blake had a well-known problem with alcohol and although no one caught him drinking on duty, Della had her suspicions. She tactfully said nothing and instead checked the clipboard in her hands.
"Yes. But he was in no way lucid enough to give Blake any relevant information. His son could only give us sketchy details-apparently he was bitten yesterday by something in the National Park." Della shook her head sympathetically, her eyes unwillingly following the line of his pale, bare arm to the already festering wound on his forearm. It was obviously a bite, but from what? Della didn't know of anything capable of such a vicious bite without taking off the arm.
Maybe he ran into Old Ben out there. The enormous bear was so legendary around the small town that he'd been taken on as an unofficial mascot, adorning the town flag and official stationary. Della hadn't seen him herself-thank God for small mercies. Besides, she frowned, weren't bears supposed to hibernate during winter? Had this unfortunate guy disturbed the black bear's den or something?
"Was he able to tell you what attacked him?" Cooper's voice was growing hard and even more impatient.
Della shook her head. "He began to lose it." She gave a nervous laugh. "Started yelling about skinned deer and wolves, but most of what he was saying was incoherent. He was given sedatives then, mainly so we could calm him down enough to clean that wound. He had to be physically restrained because he was threatening the staff with violence."
Dr. Cooper jerked his head in the nurse's direction faster than she could blink. "Did he injure anyone?" he demanded.
"No doctor," Della replied, a little taken aback at this sudden display of concern. "At least, not that I noticed. Dr. Blake took every precaution when clearing up the wound. But as you can see, the antibiotics have had no effect. That was what initially convinced Blake that it was rabies."
The disturbing information didn't unnerve Cooper. He merely crossed his arms and nodded, like Della was merely confirming something he'd already suspected. "Did Blake begin the blood work and usual tests?"
"Yes, but it'll be hours yet before the centre in Vancouver can get back to us. Dr. Blake suspected rabies, but its winter and there shouldn't be any infected bats about-"
"That national park is riddled with caves," Cooper corrected arrogantly, "but I don't think its rabies. That virus doesn't coagulate the blood while the patient lives. And he's not raving or foaming at the mouth." He finally turned to face Della. "Have you sent any paperwork across the border yet?"
That was weird. Della shook her head, wondering what the patient could possibly have that would interest the US authorities. Their own government had the resources capable of dealing with a rabies outbreak, so what could it be?
Cooper saw the confusion on her face, and shrugged. "Do you recall that infection a few months ago in the United States, back in October I believe?"
Della shook her head again. Here in Grace Lake there was very little risk of coming into contact with anything that dangerous. The worst Della had ever had to deal with a case of rabies four years ago and the occasional accident when the mine had still been in business.
"The cannibal disease? The one that destroyed Raccoon City?"
"Oh, that one." Della frowned. "Wait a minute. Wasn't that all industrial terrorism or something? Didn't a tech spill a test tube in a lab somewhere?"
Cooper snorted softly, returning his eyes to the pale moaning man on the bed. The dull light reflected from his glasses. "That's what they told the media at least." His voice took on a sharp edge. "Send samples to the Disease Control Centre in the States. If we're dealing with this 'cannibal disease', then I'd like to know exactly what precautions we should take."
"You don't think it's that serious do you?" Della chanced a glance at the patient. "Will he be okay?"
"I don't want it to be that serious," he answered, "but I've never seen anything like this before. I want no one in here without my presence. The danger of contamination is too great. Is that clear? The risk this may spread is high."
Della had to agree with him. The festering wound wasn't responding to any of the antibiotics or repeated attempts to clean it, and the man was beyond any of the medications being administered through his IV.
And his eyes…It was like the poor guy was going cataract-but that had to be impossible. She'd never seen anything like it either.
So she never doubted for a moment that Dr. Cooper was being completely honest when he denied any knowledge of what the patient was afflicted with. Della merely thought he was being cautious, and far more responsible than Dr. Blake. She didn't know that the respected doctor was actually struggling to maintain his composure now faced with something he'd believed to have left behind years ago.
The T-virus had somehow been leaked in Grace Lake. And Norman Cooper had absolutely no idea how such a thing could be possible.
Manitoba had no Umbrella facilities. He'd made certain of it before moving here to hide from them.
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Holland Farm
Ed Holland scratched his ass crack with one hand and was guzzling down the first beer of the morning when an ungodly shriek shattered the early morning silence.
Was that Billy again? Holland had been having nothing but difficulty with the young bull he'd bought last season. The bugger had gone from being a manageable juvenile to an aggressive bastard in the space of a few months, permanently ruining the smooth way he usually ran his farm, not to mention the pre-dawn wake up calls. Ed had been giving serious thought to having Billy steak lately. Nice thick T-Bones at that…
He paused, the can still at his mouth and his left hand still in between his butt cheeks, waiting for the strange sound to repeat itself. After a moment of listening to nothing but the refrigerator hum and feeling like a fool, he went back to enthusiastically scratching his ass and guzzling down the warm beer.
The second scream was closer, and made him drop the can, the foamy liquid splattering all over his legs.
"Ah shit!" Doing his best not to slip on the kitchen linoleum, Ed managed to hobble over to the sink and start wiping his legs with a sponge.
"Damn Billy," he swore to himself, bending a little too far. His back twinged warningly. Great. Now he'd have to pay that con artist calling himself a chiropractor to make his back better. Not to mention the countless hours driving south to Brandon.
Ed did his best to mop the floor with the sponge, but the kitchen still stank of beer when he finished, so he knew it was inevitable the floor would be sticky later. Throwing the sponge into the sink, he shuffled to the back door.
The early morning sun was shining brilliantly across the snow covered yards, the reflection making Ed squint. He yawned and stretched his arms before realising that there was something wrong about the peaceful scene spread out before him.
There was no sound. The cattle were unusually silent. Frowning, Ed stepped out to the porch, the early morning chill not bothering him in the slightest. He peered across at the barns, but couldn't really see anything-those damned fir trees were blocking the view. Ed leaned over the porch railing, vaguely wondering where the earlier shrieks had come from. No cattle ever sounded like that, not even in an abattoir.
He didn't have long to wait. A bellow filled the morning silence, so unexpected and so loud that Ed clapped his hands to his ears, wondering how such a sound could be possible. It wasn't anything he'd ever heard before; it was like a bull screaming through a blood-filled throat.
The sound of hooves thundering towards him made Ed turn to his right. It was only then that he saw the monstrosity charging towards him. His mind barely had the time to register the torn and shredded four-legged form before it reached him, using it's already deformed horns to impale him.
Ed screamed, but the thin human shriek couldn't compete with the tremendous bellow Billy gave before throwing him across the snowy yard. Ed landed on his side hard, the breath knocked out of him. He scrambled to his feet, his exposed arms and legs now numbing quickly. He attempted to run, to escape to the barns before Billy could charge at him again.
He took only one step before crying out in agony, his chest burning suddenly, like he'd had a damn heart attack. He clutched a hand to his side and kept hobbling in the direction of the barns. The heavy carpet of snow made it difficult, his laboured breath frosting in the cold air, but he made it to the fence before Billy gave another bellow.
Ed desperately reached with both hands and tried to pull himself over the fence. The bull's hooves were getting closer, the sound filling his mind with terror.
He fell to the ground with another hard thump. Aware of how close Billy was, Ed tried to get up, but a pain beyond anything he'd ever experienced made him stop.
He rolled to the side of his body that was agonising. The snow he was lying on was stained crimson with his blood.
The bastard gored me! The mother fu-
Billy broke through the fence and Ed Holland's world was full of pain. Impossibly, he could hear the loud shrieking pick up again just before Billy's brutal hooves came down on his head.
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Jacobi House
"Matt! Dirk's here!"
Loud honking confirmed his mother's statement. Matt Jacobi finished zipping his equipment bag and glanced out of his window. Sure enough, the battered Ford Dirk tentatively called a car was pulled up out front, spewing exhaust fumes into the chilly morning air. Downstairs, his dog, Jesse, was barking enthusiastically at the door.
Hefting the heavy bag over one shoulder, he reached for his hockey stick, but paused with his fingers millimetres from it.
It doesn't mean anything really, does it?
Matt couldn't argue with himself. Only days ago, reaching for this same stick was one of the few things he'd lived for. Now priorities had to change.
"Yeah Mom, I'm coming down in a minute!" Matt called back, grabbing the stick. He cast his room a last look; for all he knew, he might never see this place again if he and Dirk were right about Jamie. The shelves full of horror novels and old comics, the television with the game system untidily strewn across his floor, the posters he'd nicked from work that covered the walls all made him hesitate for a second. For the first time in forever, Matt suddenly wished he were a little kid again.
Are we doing the right thing? What if Jamie really was telling the truth…?
Matt bit his lower lip. He was only a high school kid, not a character from one of his novels or movies. If Jamie really was telling the truth about what happened up at the cabins then he was probably the last person who should be dealing with the problem. Matt had never shared the same clever nature that Jamie and Dirk did.
What's the alternative then? Let Jamie rot in jail for a crime he didn't commit? No one else believes him, not even after what happened in the States last year. I have to. I don't have a choice.
Satisfied with his own answer, Matt quietly walked out of his room, setting his bag softly down on the landing. Finding his father's study was easy; getting in was even easier using the key he'd stolen last night from his dad's keychain.
The study was dim, but Matt was glad the shades were down; even less chance of being caught. Mrs. O'Grady next door could get awfully nosy sometimes.
Pushing the door open, Matt made a beeline for the cabinet standing behind the polished desk. Grateful that his father hadn't locked it, he carefully pulled open the glass-fronted doors.
Four rifles were revealed in the dim light. He took three of them, and reached for the drawer set into the cabinet. Boxes of cartridges and ammunition were crammed tightly into the enclosed space. Matt had to carefully pull the boxes out one by one, piling them on the desk beside the rifles.
"Matt! Dirk's committing serious environmental damage out there! Get a move on!"
Not daring to answer, but knowing that his mother would think it strange if he didn't, Matt slung all three rifles over his shoulder and grabbed an armful of ammunition. Torn between wanting to get out without being caught and covering his tracks so he could avoid later punishment, Matt decided that if his father came home first and found the ammunition strewn all over his desk and the rifles missing, then his punishment would be well earned.
He didn't have the time to lock the door behind him, and hurried for the landing and unzipped his equipment bag. He stuffed the rifles and ammunition inside only seconds before his mother appeared at the foot of the stairwell. Matt forced a smile to his face and was about to head for the stairs when he heard a weak voice calling for him.
"Luke?" Matt stopped in the door way of his little brother's room. Luke was still curled up in bed, peering at him miserably over the brightly coloured blankets, sandy blonde hair askew and mussed up.
"Hey, what's wrong with you?" he asked, noticing how pale the little guy's face was. "Got the flu?"
Luke nodded. "Mommy's takin' me the doctor today," he sniffled.
"You're just scammin'." Matt gave Luke a brotherly grin. "I'll see you when I get home. Take care of Jesse for me, okay?"
His little brother nodded. "Can I brush him?" he asked, lisping slightly.
"Why not? Just make sure Mom knows." Luke adored Jesse, had been annoying the dog ever since Jesse had been a pup. Matt didn't think they had long before Luke insisted on a dog of his own.
Luke sank into his blankets, so Matt turned and headed down the stairwell, almost tripping over Jesse. The Huskie jumped around his legs, licking enthusiastically at Matt's hands. Matt bent down to scratch Jesse's ears.
"Have a good day at school, hon," Mrs. Jacobi said, blowing her reddened nose.
"Seriously, when do I ever have a good day at school?" Matt joked lightly, leaning to give her a peck on the check.
"Nuh-huh. I think I've caught that cold your father's come down with. Don't wanna pass it on." She gave him a weak smile. "Davey and Luke have already come down with it."
"So Luke's really not going to school today? Lucky bugger." Matt started for the door but paused briefly. "Mom?"
Mrs. Jacobi glanced up, her expression slightly puzzled. "Yes sweetie?"
"Love you," he said awkwardly. Before his mother could respond, Matt hurried out, slamming the door behind him. He tripped up a dozen times as he trudged across the snow-covered yard.
"Anyone catch you?" Dirk demanded as soon as he'd put his equipment bag into the trunk and climbed into the car.
"Of course not," Matt answered.
"Good. So then boys," Dirk asked the two other teens in the car, "you all ready for the most fucked up hunt of all time?"
Matt didn't cheer with Gary and Ian. He was getting a bad feeling about all of this now they were really doing it. Half of him wanted to leap from the car when Dirk began pulling away and started towards school.
"Dude, I thought we weren't going to school today," Ian complained from the back seat. "What's that all about?"
"Dude," Dirk replied, putting a nasty emphasis on the word, "we're not. I parked my dad's four wheel drive at Gary's. We've got to go pick it up and hide this car so our parents don't know we've skipped. I kind of thought that Matt's mom would recognise my Ford, not to mention notice that it's heading in the opposite direction to where it should be."
"Oh yeah," Ian said sheepishly, earning himself a playful punch from Gary.
Matt was doing his best to ignore his friends, staring numbly at the passing houses and trees. Instead of getting all revved up like the others, he was feeling cold inside.
"What about you Matt?" Dirk asked, a half-grin on his face and a gleam in his green eyes. "Ready to see what's really in those woods?"
Matt didn't return the grin. "As ready as ever," he replied, crossing his arms and sinking into his seat. "It's Jamie's only chance to get off the charges, right?"
Dirk nodded and turned right at the next intersection, heading for Gary's place. "We all know he didn't do it," he said matter-of-factly. "Jamie would never hurt them. And we all know he had nothing to do with the campers that went missing before New Years."
He was right. Jamie wasn't capable of what the police were claiming he did up at the cabin. Killing three people-let alone their friends-wasn't the kind of thing shy, nervous Jamie would even consider, let alone do. Matt believed him, knew that even though Jamie's story was insane, it made more sense than Jamie snapping and going on a killing spree.
"So we find what did," Matt added in a low voice. "And if we find them, we'll kill them ourselves."
"We're goin' on a zombie hunt!" Gary added cheerfully from the back seat.