A/N: Chapter 18, better late than never. (Sorry!) I don't own Valve.
Gatling was nice enough to leave us be until after breakfast. Being swarmed by a multitude of scientists, doctors, and maybe the rest of America's remaining population asking you questions makes for a lost appetite.
"Did the subject attempt to attack you at all during the past 6 hours?" One asked. Several others were chatting with the ward nurse, and yet more were crowding on Den, which was probably making him claustrophobic.
"Did the subject display any symptoms at all? Spasms? Hallucinations?" Another asked.
"Y'know, he can tell you himself." I said, annoyed, but the doctor didn't hear me. The interrogation continued for another few minutes, when suddenly the crowd parted like the Red Sea, each falling silent, or scribbling away madly on clipboards.
Gatling had arrived.
"Hey." I said, trying to hide my irritation. "Nothing like seeing your beautiful face this early in the morning."
Gatling ignored the comment. "I trust you're keeping well, Miss Walker." He said, level-headedly.
"Just fine, till you decided to assault us with science."
"All for a good cause, Miss Walker."
"Yeah. Thanks." growled Denver. Good to see he's developing a sarcasm complex. I thought, trying to avoid smirking.
As Denver said this, some of the whitecoats gasped; whispers of It can talk! rippled through the crowd. I gave them a dirty look; All they needed to have done was ask the nurse what had happened the night before, and they wouldn't need to be so shocked.
"Forgive my colleagues, if you would, Miss Walker." said Gatling. "They just arrived from the mainland to assist in research and vaccine production."
Yeah, they're an awfully organized bunch. I thought hotly.
"I trust you two had a peaceful evening?"
"Fine and dandy." I replied. Well, at least until you arrived. "D'ya mind untying Denver over here?"
Denver tried to grin, like he was saying, 'No, I'm not going to murder everyone in my immediate vicinity. Flesh, me? No, of course not!'
It looked more like a grimace, though. Note to self: Work on his people skills.
Gatling gave me a dubious look, so I kept my face straight. I hoped I wouldn't have to knock any heads around.
However, he relented, waving his hand at two (Albeit very reluctant) whitecoats, who hurried to the task. As soon as the untied the knots, they hurried back to the crowd, which seemed to be edging themselves to the door. You could practically cut their tension with a knife.
Den, however, didn't move much, other than sitting up a bit more and rubbing his wrists where he was tied down. The whiteouts visibly sagged with relief, and went back to whispering among themselves. Gatling raised his eyebrow, but ignored them.
"So, Gatling." I said, making the first move. "I know you don't make for much small-talk, so you probably aren't here to trade recipes. What do you want?"
I heard a poorly-concealed snort from Denver. It's nice to have someone who appreciates your humor around here. I reflected. Gatling remained stoic, and the whitecoats were too busy eyeing Denver like rabbits eyes a fox.
"I'm here, firstly, to ask a few questions, Miss Walker."
"Fire away."
"Firstly." He said, turning to Denver. "You say he cannot recall anything at all?"
"I can talk, you know." Den growled. "And I don't."
I cringed, inwardly. It was a sore subject for him, I imagine, reminding him of a past he left behind, yet couldn't even see.
Gatling sighed. "I thought just as much. Dr. Pasteur—the main consultant for the case—reported that while the virus is gone from his system, it has left some less removable mutations." He said, grimly.
Denver held up his claws. "Like these?" (The whitecoats took a unanimous step backwards)
"Those, and several muscle groups, possibly. Tests are still being done, but they seem to be several times more powerful than non-mutated varieties."
"I can still jump?"
"In all likelihood, yes."
"So it's just my hands, and my legs."
"And his memories." I said, cutting in.
Gatling nodded. "This is all speculation, of course. Yours is a completely unique case."
"Unique?" I asked, confused. "There aren't any other infected you've cured yet?"
Gatling shook his head. "There have been…attempts. All failures, ending with the subjects in a vegetative state. None have seemed to retain any basic cognitive function, let alone memories. Denver is, so far, the most responsive case so far."
I didn't like the sound of that.
"So he's the only cured infected that's currently alive."
"Correct."
"So…what now? What's going to happen?"
"As stated before, Miss Walker, while the vaccine has been completed, the risk…"
Yes, risks. I though, bitterly.
"…Of a loss of a valuable resource for the CEDA is too great, if we were to release you."
"So I'm a back-up blood-bank, essentially."
"I would say that, Miss Walker-" He started, but when he saw my look, he added, "But, yes, essentially, you would be a 'back-up system' if there were any further…incidents."
"When the shit hits the fan, you mean. Again."
He ignored the comment. "I can only assume you have no living relatives, Miss Walker?"
I shook my head. Dad was gone. Mom was gone, and I hadn't even known her, much less her family. I hadn't spoken to Uncle Whit in years; he could be eaten by zombies, for all I knew.
"Very well." Said Gatling. "Until a synthetic vaccine is produced, then you and your companion—" he shot a glance at Denver—"Are considered wards of the CEDA and national government."
I balled my hands into fists, my anger rising like lava through a volcano. "You can't do that, Gatling. I have rights. We both do." I said, but I knew it was a losing battle. Gatling probably didn't give two rat's asses about rights.
"This is a time of war, Miss Walker." He said, coldly. "And while the enemy might not be of usual convention, the government is treating it as such. We could, if we wanted to, convict you of treason, and of resistance to aiding the war effort."
Goddamnit.
"Or we could, also, simply make you disappear. No-one would notice, would they? But, because the CEDA cares for the people—"
Like it does, you son of a bitch. I fumed, inwardly.
"We are willing to make accommodations. The plane for the Arizona CEDA base leaves at 700 hours on Saturday. We will provide for transport and housing, and all you would need to do is comply to our standards. And you have my word." He said, looking me straight in the eye, "That once a synthetic vaccine is discovered, you and Denver would be free to go."
I didn't trust him. Not in 7 kinds of Hell.
"10 minutes." I said. "Give us 10 minutes. Alone."
Gatling nodded. "Fine." He gestured to the door, and the white-coats obediently filed out.
When the door closed behind them, I let loose string of curses that I won't print here, since it'd probably turn your hair white. All I'll say is that Den probably increased his vocabulary at an exponential rate just from that.
"That son of a…" I growled, after I'd finished.
"There's no choice." Said Denver, breaking off my cuss. "Is there?"
"Damn right." I replied, punch the palm of my hand in an attempt to let the anger out. (It didn't work)
I sighed.
"He smells trustworthy." said Den. I looked at him like he was nuts.
"Denver." I said, flatly. "He just threatened to make us disappear. Men like that aren't trustworthy. Trust me. And what the hell does trustworthy smell like?"
Den shrugged. "He just does. I hate what he says, but I think we have to go with it."
I sighed. "Yeah."
"I don't like it."
"Me neither."
Ten minutes later, I told Gatling our decision.
He remained stone-faced, but I had a feeling the smug bastard was gloating on the inside. "Very well." He said. "The plane leaves for Arizona on Saturday. Any questions?"
"We'll be together, right?" I asked. The whitecoats started muttering, and I resisted the urge to flip them the bird (And do much worse, besides.)
Gatling nodded. "Other than occasional tests, you'll stay in the same compound."
I breathed a sigh of relief. The, I stopped myself. "Tests?" I asked. "Like what?"
"Simply measures of physical abilities on Denver's part. And the occasional donation of blood. Nothing more."
"No dissections, you mean?"
"None at all, Miss Walker."
I still didn't take his word for it, but what could I do? "Right." I said.
"Fine. Any further questions?"
I did, in fact, have several questions, but knowing Gatling he'd probably dodge them like the slippery bastard he was. Plus, I was craving some scientist-free, life-changing decision-free time with Denver.
"I'm good." I said, turning to Denver. "How about you?" I asked him.
"Yeah. One." Den said, turning to Gatling. "Where's Arizona?"
The Director sighed. "Remind me, Caroline." He said, to a miscellaneous technician standing next to him, "To give our guests an updated atlas, when you have the chance." And then he rose from his Chair of Authority, and left us be.
"Well, it looks like we're officially guinea-pigs for the government." I sighed, after the hubbub died away.
"I have no idea what a guinea pig is, but yeah." said Denver. "I'm glad we're leaving here. I hate the way this place smells."
"I agree with you on that, buddy, and I don't even have enhanced olfactory nerves. At least we're out of here by Saturday. Which reminds me…"
I turned to the attending nurse. "What day is today?" I asked her. (Seriously, there's no sense of time around here. The bastards even took my watch.)
She was checking my IV drip. "It's a Thursday." She said, not looking up from her task.
You were right, Dad. Thursdays suck ass.
A/N: That's it for Chapter 18. Epilogue next chapter, one more to go!
Thank you for all of your great reviews, and for your questions. Keep asking, I don't bite! (Well, except in self-defense.)
Also, another announcement: I am holding a Character Q&A Session! Hooraaaay! *throws confetti* This time, you can ask Marcy, Denver, Gatling, the cashier, and even the zombie bear any questions you might have. Try to keep them spoiler-free; ask as many as you want and post them for this chapter (Chapter 18) so I can tell them from the Author Q&A questions. (Which go on Chapter 17) Deadline is August 23, I will post the questions and and answers on my Wordpress by the 25th.
Thanks, and have fun asking!
-Author