“I’m sure that was never on your business card,” was McReady’s cold reply.
“There’s something else,” interrupted Benny. “You said that there were R3’s in Washington and then some around here . . . but Nix and I saw some fast zoms near where we live, up by Yosemite National Park, in Mariposa County.”
“Drifters,” said McReady. “Probably wild boars spreading the mutation.”
“But what about the boars that attacked Lilah in Nevada, and the R3’s Nix and Lilah fought? Wild boars don’t live in deserts.”
McReady grunted. “I . . . don’t know.” She looked at Joe. “Could Reid have been—?”
“Reid doesn’t have the D-series notes. I gave her some samples of the mutagen, but she didn’t know what to do with it. And even if she did, she wouldn’t try it on walkers in the wild. She’s not a genius, but she’s not suicidally stupid.”
“Reapers,” said Lilah.
Everyone looked at her. McReady said, “Only if they had the missing notes and a good scientist. A chemist, a molecular biologist, an epidemiologist. Someone who understands the kind of science we’re talking about.”
“Could the reapers have someone like that?” asked Nix. “I mean . . . they’re religious nuts.”
“They’re religious nuts now,” said Benny. “Who and what were they before they joined the Night Church?”
It was an ugly question, and the answers seemed to scream at them.
“I have a question,” said Nix into the silence. She nodded to the wall of plastic containers. “You made all this. Why? I mean . . . if you were trapped, if you thought you’d never get out, why did you—?”
McReady’s eyes softened for the first time. “Because there’s always hope, isn’t there?”
“Is there?” asked Lilah, her voice strained. “Hope for whom?”
“For everyone. Even if we died in here, there was always the chance someone would find us and find the stores of Archangel. And—I thought that my notes, my research, was in the hands of Jane Reid’s people at Sanctuary. I thought by now they’d have mass-produced a million tons of it. They should have. Once the parasites are active again, the process of decay kicks in, and the swine bacteria accelerates it. The walkers will become more dangerous, that’s a given, but only for a week or so. Then the decay will have weakened their connective tissues. They’ll start falling apart.”
“The zoms outside looked pretty spry,” said Joe. “I had to gun ’em down.”
“No, that’s the natural mutation from the pigs. They’re faster, but the decomposition is still slow. We figure it will take forty-eight to sixty months for those walkers to fall. Our synthetic version of the natural mutagen—the one we developed before we evacuated Hope One—is different. You get a very fast walker for two or three days, and then you get one that’s slow and awkward, and then you have a pile of meat and bones.”
“What about someone who’s infected but not dead?” asked Lilah. “Would Archangel save them . . . or kill them?”
“You have to give them Archangel before they’re exposed to the mutagen. At least a full dose. Two capsules. Luckily, it kicks in fast, but without Archangel in their system, the mutagen will only kill them faster.”
“And with Archangel?” demanded Lilah.
“Depends on what you’re asking. If someone takes Archangel and dies, they don’t reanimate.”
“My brother died and he didn’t reanimate,” said Benny.
McReady nodded. “Same thing happened to a few people here. We think that’s a side effect of the mutation. As the new version of the pathogen spreads, some people are developing immunity to the reanimative aspects of the plague. Our computer models indicate that in time—maybe ten or fifteen years—as many as one percent of the population will develop immunity. While that sounds hopeful, it isn’t an answer. You say your brother didn’t reanimate? Then count yourself lucky.”
“No, said Nix, “that’s not how it is. We saw maybe fifty or sixty people killed in that fight, and at least six or seven of them didn’t reanimate. That’s more like ten percent.”
“Then there must be a higher concentration of the Brucella suis bacteria in certain places. Again, count yourselves lucky. In most places the concentration is very low, and the bacteria won’t even grow in certain climates. Just be happy that your brother caught a break.”
“He still died.”
“Everybody dies,” said the scientist.
“What about someone who’s infected but not dead?” asked Lilah again. “Would Archangel save them or kill them?”
McReady straightened. “Why do you ask?”
The grief and fear in Lilah’s face was almost too much for Benny to look at.