“Why is the dining room so empty?” Gabriel asked.

She shook her head. “It’s the virus, sir. We ain’t got nobody left to feed, now that everyone’s infected. There’s only three of us working in the kitchen.”

“I see. Thank you.”

The girl walked away with the look of someone who wished she hadn’t spoken. After about ten minutes, his meal came, but his table was still empty. The only other resident that had been pushed into the room was panic-eyed Henrietta Wilmington, hardly the most relaxing conversationalist in the world.

“Oh gawd!” Henrietta cried. “Why am I in this hospital? Why am I all strapped down? Who are you people?! Oh my, oh my.”

Henrietta, due to a history of disastrous falls—the evidence of which was a sharp bone that protruded from her knee like a tumor—was considered a fall risk. That meant that her chair was always equipped with an alarmed seatbelt, and a pull-away alarm was clipped onto the back of her shirt at all times.

“Please help me,” Henrietta begged the kitchen aide. “You don’t understand. I’m not supposed to be here. I have to go upstairs. Please, I have to go upstairs!”

The giant dining room had only four people in it, all of them sitting in opposite corners. He had come there to converse with his fellow residents, to get away from his usual isolation, if only for a short time. Instead, looking at these people, he could only confirm what he already knew. They had no relief. They were confused, disoriented, and lonely.

Gabriel finished his meal and left, skipping dessert. When he got back to his room, he phoned Melanie. His call went to voicemail.

Chapter 42:

Breakout

Gabriel packed his photos, notebooks, and the Nobel Prize into his backpack. He tucked an old photo of Melanie holding up her high school diploma into a side pocket. Call Melanie again, before you leave. DO NOT forget. In the other pocket, he added his favorite photo of Yvonne, which showed her standing on the beach in a beam of sunlight, arms raised to the sky. Staring at that photo, he felt a deep desire to tell her that he’d see her soon on the other side. But he knew there was no other side. As soon as he drowned in that ocean, he would simply disappear into the same eternal void that she vanished into years ago. Sentimentality and logic never went well together.

Inside a zipped plastic bag, he placed a washcloth-wrapped glass vial of the antidote. A microscopic drop would be enough to kill a whale, so an entire vial would certainly destroy the maelstrom. Next to that, he added an empty plastic vial. If the vial containing the antidote broke, he’d be able to use the second vial to rescue at least some of it. The plastic wouldn’t contain it for long, though, so he hoped it didn’t come to that. Next, in case he needed any kind of backup or needed to perform an emergency test, he put in a syringe containing the original Schist Vaccine. He rolled up the plastic bag and secured it in the inner pocket of his coat.

Back at his desk, he opened a notebook and popped the cap off a permanent marker. On the first empty page, he wrote a message in giant letters:

SCHIST VACCINE CAUSES BLACK VIRUS. DO NOT GIVE ANYONE THE SCHIST VACCINE! SEE THIS NOTEBOOK FOR ALL DETAILS – G.S.

If things went wrong, maybe someone else could pick up his research and succeed where he had failed. He’d called Melanie over a dozen times throughout the evening and left several messages, but she hadn’t returned his calls. The thought of never talking to her again stabbed deeply into his heart, but it was getting late, and he couldn’t afford to wait much longer.

He dialed her number one more time. Please pick up, Melanie. Gabriel waited for the sound of her voice, the way it always gently lifted when she said, “Hello, Dad.” But after two rings, the voicemail recording played in his ear.

“Hey there. You’ve reached Melanie. Just leave your name and number, and I’ll get back at you soon.”

Beep.

Gabriel realized that he had to deliver his goodbye, the final thing she’d ever hear her father say to her. He had no idea where to begin. All the perfect speeches he’d planned dropped down into his stomach.

He cleared his throat. “Hi, Melanie. I just wanted to call and say that I love you. I’ve been trying to reach you. I wanted to—” He wiped his eyes. “Look, I know this will seem out of nowhere, but I want you to know that you’re not only the most important person in the world to me but also the most wonderful human being—the best carbon-based life-form—that I’ve ever met in my life. I admire you, Melanie. I don’t say that enough. I’m terrible at properly showing affection, and I hate myself for it. But I hope I’ve been an okay father for you because you’ve been the most brilliant, beautiful daughter that a man ever could have asked for. I love you. Just remember that. Have a good night, Melanie. Love you.”

With a shaky hand, Gabriel put down the phone. He slung the backpack over his shoulder, on his good side and took one last look around the room. Seeing nothing he’d forgotten, he crept to the door and peered down the hall. Natty, the obnoxious night-shift LNA, was eating a sandwich and filling out paperwork at the nurses’ station. Harry Brenton, who was pulling another double shift, would be punching out for his break in another minute or so.

Gabriel stepped over to where Bernard was sleeping and gently nudged the trucker’s shoulder. “Goodbye, Bernard. You’re a good guy.”

Bernard stirred but didn’t awaken.

His goodbyes complete, Gabriel pulled the privacy curtain and walked over to the window. Trembling with anticipation, he grasped the pane and pulled upward. When the glass was out of the way, he started to put one hand outside, but his fingers hit mesh.

They’d put the screen back in while he was asleep. Great. That was annoying but not a big setback. Michael had taken it down with his antennas, so Gabriel was sure removing the screen would be no problem. He went back to his desk and grabbed a screwdriver. After unscrewing the sides, he wedged the screwdriver between the screen’s rickety frame and the wooden pane. He gave the screwdriver a strong push, but it didn’t budge. And it beeped. A high-pitched, ear-piercing alarm sounded out in the hallway.

SCREEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!

Gabriel yanked on the screen again. It was stuck, bolted on from the outside. He tried to adjust the screen, to somehow shut off the alarm, but too late, he spotted a flashing control panel that required a numerical code. He covered his ears as the alarm’s blistering whine tried to pierce holes into his skull.

Bernard shouted, “Whoa! What’s that?”

SCREEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!

The administrator had been prepared. Victor Calaca must have told. The traitor. Gabriel desperately tried to jerk the screen out with his bare hands. When that didn’t work, he tried to tear through it with his fingers.

SCREEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!

The alarm was so loud that he couldn’t think. His hopes and dreams scattered in the wind. Natty would race in at any moment. They’d lock him up for trying to escape. That was exactly why they moved people to Level Five, for “exit-seeking.” And he would be trapped there for the rest of his life.

SCREEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!

He had to find a way out. No matter what it took or how he did it, no matter the risks, escape was his only option. He couldn’t go out the window. The alarm was too loud, and he could already hear footsteps in the corridor.

He raced out into the hallway then ran as fast as an old man with a cane could possibly run, which wasn’t that fast, but it would have to do.

Suddenly, Natty stepped into his path. “Gabe! Stop it. You’re going to fall.”

Despite his best efforts to evade her, she caught him like a football linebacker, encircling his chest with her muscular arms and holding him in place. Her scrubs were rancid with sweat.

“There, there, honey,” she said. “Let’s just go back to your room, okay? It’s about time for a nap, I’d say. Everything’s okay. It’s all okay.”

She took a step back, signaling to the other nurse running toward them with a syringe. She mouthed, “Level Five.”

Before she could seize him again, Gabriel raised his cane and swung it around in a small arc. Crack! The middle of the stick connected with Natty’s head.

SCREEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!

Natty collapsed to her knees, holding her head. Gabriel was frozen, shocked by his own actions. He couldn’t believe that he’d actually struck another human being. It wasn’t like him. He’d never been in a fight in his life. It was the alarm. With all that racket, he couldn’t think straight. The nurse who had been running up with the syringe stopped, gaping at him, and dropped the syringe to the floor.

Natty suddenly rocked forward and wrapped her arms around his legs. She squeezed and pulled, trying to bring him down with her. Trying to stay on his feet, Gabriel brought the cane around, but the angle was awkward.

She ducked her head, and the wood missed her by only an inch or so. “You fucking—”

She hadn’t let go, but she had raised her head again to yell at him. Gabriel swung the cane and connected. He wasn’t sure where he had hit her, but she let go and fell back on the floor.

SCREEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!

Red lights began flashing from the ceiling. Gabriel hobbled away as fast as he could move. His best option for escape was to take the least expected route: the front door.

He rushed past the dining room and cut straight down the main hallway, toward the lobby. Adrenaline kept him going as sweat soaked his skin. He was a liquid, not a solid, and he would rush through the door like a waterfall. Behind him was a blur of shouting voices.

They’ve found me. He had to escape. He had to cure the virus. He had to die.