Immunity Read online

  IMMUNITY

  By

  Brianna Sims

  Copyright 2018 by Brianna Sims

  This novel is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination, or, if real, used fictitiously. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without the express written permission of the author or publisher, except where permitted by law.

  All Rights Reserved.

  Prologue

  Everything hurt.

  His stomach lurched and grumbled. His eyes burned and watered. His body ached until he wished his disease would kill him already.

  He squeezed his arms around himself and groaned. Opening his eyes, he peered around him, taking in the desolate apartment where he was staying for the next month. Sirens blared and cars honked from the busy street below.

  He raised his hands to his sweaty face and considered the blue hues spreading across his fingertips. Dryness caked his nail beds, crumbling like dry pieces of dirt onto the hardwood flooring as he ran his hand through his greasy hair. He hadn’t had the energy to shower. He hadn’t had the energy to do much of anything. He just curled into himself with his back pressing against the couch behind him and counted the passing minutes.

  Why was I so careless?

  The snowy white cat, Peters, mewed as he strolled closer to the man.

  He reached his hand out and pet the cat’s soft tufts of fur. The movement sent shudders of pain coursing through his body.

  “I’m hungry, too,” he whispered. He hadn’t felt strong enough to fill Peters’ bowl this week, and he knew the poor animal was suffering. His tongue was getting progressively drier. “I’m sorry.”

  The TV screen flickered with the evening news. A reporter with dark, wavy hair and tanned skin noted the state of the very disease coursing through the man’s veins.

  “Reportedly, several patients in Oneida County have been diagnosed with what appears to be severe tuberculosis. However, some doctors aren’t certain this is the case. While this disease has similar symptoms as TB, mental instability and physical fatigue appeared within a few hours of the diagnosis. One case of the disease has shown symptoms like loss of circulation and a strange blue tint to the skin. Doctors say they are unsure what they are dealing with, and they are partnering with local officials to do everything to understand the severity.”

  The reporter returned to the TV screen and paused a couple moments as the voiceover ended before she spoke again. The silence penetrated the air like a knife into his abdomen.

  The pain grew worse, spreading from the crown of his head to the tips of his toes. He squeezed his eyes shut to block out the pain.

  Nothing was working.

  “So far, the reports are specific to the Oneida county area,” she said confidently. “This is Lauren Jones, WKTV.”

  He looked around the room. Dirty clothes were strewn across the floor in heaps collecting tufts of cat hair and dust. Food was left unattended on the coffee table gathering flies and other bugs. The man’s brown, leather wallet lay next to him on the floor, fallen from the side table. He groaned as he reached for it, picked it up, and flipped through the flaps.

  After a few moments, his fingers found the picture of the two reasons he had worked at that special laboratory, why he had volunteered to work on that project in the first place.

  The two smiling faces he couldn’t touch or kiss anymore because he had chosen work over family.

  Again.

  “Damn that disease,” he mumbled. “Damn the Caeruleus.”

  The words came out jumbled like a drunk trying to speak through the fog of liquor.

  A tear escaped his eyes as he stared at his wife and let out a sob, realizing he’d never watch his son grow into a man.

  Pain radiated through his body again, and a scream escaped his lips.

  Darkness invaded his eyelids. He could only feel the couch and the leather clutched in his fingers.

  Soft fur brushed against his arms.

  Thirst and hunger panged in his stomach with unbearable strength.

  It could no longer be ignored.

  He seized the furry animal and vaguely heard the meow of protest, but he brought it to his face anyway.

  His teeth plunged into the flesh of the only thing he had left.

  Chapter 1

  2 Years Later

  “Jake, do you want gravy for your meatloaf tonight?” my mother shouted from downstairs.

  “No thanks, Mom,” I responded before returning my gaze to the words on the page of my book.

  I never did anything crazy on a Friday night. My fingers clutched a worn copy of 1984, eyes flitted across the pages, and body slouched in an old, baby-blue recliner in my room. As Mom cooked downstairs, pans clanked and food sizzled in the kitchen, eliciting the smoky and buttery scents of dinner. This was how I relaxed.

  This was peace.

  When I finally reached the end of the chapter, my phone buzzed in my pocket. I placed my finger between the pages, uncrossed my feet sitting on the ottoman in front of me, and stuffed my fingers into the pocket of my sweatpants. A picture of a beautiful blonde girl flashed across my screen. Liz and I had been friends since childhood, growing up in the same small town and sharing most of our classes. My heart clenched as I stared at her picture, her hand over her rosy, smiling lips and her gleaming sapphire eyes piercing the camera lens. Finally, I cleared my throat and answered her call.

  “Hello?” I asked.

  The background of the phone call was noisy with laughter, banter, and chatter. It was almost as if she had butt-dialed me as I listened to what I knew was Jason’s party. He was celebrating the end of his last semester as the starting quarterback for our mediocre football team.

  “Hey,” she said. Her voice tickled my eardrum over the commotion in the background. “I need your help.”

  Liz, of course, couldn’t resist attending the event, drawn to it like a moth to a flame.

  “What’s wrong?” I asked as a group of boys in the background hooted and hollered like a pack of wolves. She sniffled into the receiver and gave a small cough.

  “I need a ride home,” she whispered, almost ashamed to admit it. “I think I drank too much.”

  I nodded. Liz had always been sheltered, but if given the chance to take a hit from a bottle, she’d always take it.

  “Send me your location, and I’ll be there in a few minutes,” I said. “Stay safe.”

  “Thank you, Jake,” she muttered. “I really mean it.” She faltered with the phone for a moment before silence enveloped the line.

  I slid the phone into my pocket again and placed a bookmark into the pages. I sat up in the chair and stretched my arms overhead. A tinkling bell alerted me to a new notification through our intercom system in the house.

  “Play,” I commanded, and the room was illuminated with a hologram of my mother standing in the kitchen. Her thin lips beamed into the picture, and she smoothed her hands along her floral apron.

  “Dinner’s ready, son,” she said, nodding and motioning to the trays of food behind her. It was, of course, meatloaf and mashed potatoes again. I think those were the only two dishes my mother knew how to cook without burning them.

  “Save me a plate,” I said. “I have to go give Liz a ride from a party.”

  The corners of her pink lips fell, and she looked at the food surrounding her. She nodded again, but without as much happiness as before, and wrung her hands around each other.

  “All right. It’ll be ready when you get back, sweetie.” She paused, moving toward a stack of white plates, looking at me with concern. “Is Liz in trouble?” she as
ked.

  I gathered my keys from the nightstand, my wallet from my bed, and draped a thick jacket around my shoulders.

  “I’m not sure,” I sighed. “She didn’t sound well on the phone, but I think she said she drank too much.”

  She shook her head and sighed. “She has so much potential,” she said absent-mindedly. She moved toward the counter where steaming piles of food waited for our consumption. “I’m happy I got so lucky with you, Jacob,” she muttered while piling potatoes and meat onto a plate. “You’re such a good kid.”

  So is Liz, I thought. But I knew better than to disagree with my mother.

  “I’ll be down in a few minutes,” I said.

  She smiled and ended the conversation. My phone buzzed in my pocket, and I took it out. Liz had sent her location, and the green “go” button stared me in the face.

  Why’d you have to get drunk again, Liz? I thought. You’re better than this.

  I zipped my jacket and jogged downstairs. Mom waited for me by the door with her apron covered in red sauce and the smell of buttery potatoes surrounding her. Her dark brown hair was pulled into a loose bun with bits of grey fading into her temples and hairline.

  “Take this for her,” she offered, holding out a bottle of orange juice. “Whenever I would have too much to drink, this would always save me.”

  I nodded and took the small, plastic bottle from her hands. “Thanks, Mom.”

  She smiled and wrapped her arms around my waist. She was a petite woman, her head only reaching the bottom of my chin. I had inherited my father’s height, fortunately, but I had acquired my mother’s free-spiritedness. My dad was always textbook and never did anything to relax, and that was where we differed.

  “Your father would be proud of you, sweetie,” she said.

  I patted her back, but the motion felt awkward to me. I never knew how to comfort her, or anyone else for that matter. “I have to go, Mom.” She nodded and released me.

  She turned toward the white shelves draped with our puffy coats, strewn with cotton gloves, and littered with colorful hats. She opened a drawer and rifled through the contents. My phone buzzed again, and Liz’s name flashed across my screen.

  “Hurry,” she wrote.

  “Mom, I really need to go,” I insisted as she continued to lean over and look through the drawer.

  “I know, Jake, but you need to wear this,” she said, standing straight and holding up a white paper mask.

  I rolled my eyes. “The disease hasn’t reached this part of the country yet, Mom,” I groaned.

  She scrunched her face, the bridge of her small nose pinching in contemplation.

  “I need you to be safe,” she said quietly. “And the Caeruleus can hit here at any time.” She paused and waved the mask in front of me. “Your uncle said there are signs that it’s spreading west.”

  I took the mask from her hands and sighed. “Okay, but you realize that Uncle Brent is a crazy scientist who has a conspiracy for everything the government does, right?”

  She smoothed her hands over her apron again. “Just go save your friend and be safe, okay?” she said.

  I nodded. “I’ll be back soon.” I turned the doorknob and stepped into the night.

  ~ ~ ~

  There were few things more beautiful than the countryside of Southdale, Kansas. As I pushed and willed my worn, red Toyota Camry toward the top of Hell’s Hill, I admired the open fields lined with rows of wheat or splotched with black masses of cattle. A red barn and several animals stood in the distance illuminated by the moonlight overhead. The stars on this side of town were abundant and beautiful, almost as bright as the full moon. It was times like this when I was okay with my radio being broken.

  When I entered the north side of town, the countryside morphed into mansions and houses brightened by several lights or splashed with the water from the massive pools in the equally as expansive backyards. My GPS alerted me my destination was located at a grandiose two-story house with a luxuriously green landscape and a covered driveway. Multiple people lingered through the yard with red Solo cups clutched in their hands.

  I parked my car on the side of the road and looked at the mask lying in the passenger seat. If I entered the party with that paper mask over my face, I would be ridiculed. Some of the people who had walked the halls of Southdale High with hospital masks covering their mouths never recovered socially.

  I sighed, ignoring the mask and opening my door. I walked across the plush lawn toward the grand entryway. The atmosphere pumped with the bass from the speakers inside the house. A girl screamed before a loud splash echoed into the night. A group of boys yelled “chug” over and over in a liquor-induced chorus. Meeting the end of the cobblestone steps of the walkway, I met the front door, and my hand reached for the golden doorknob.

  I entered the chaos.

  Everywhere I turned, someone stood, swayed, or sipped from their cup. I scanned the crowd for Liz, but I couldn’t see past the sea of people around me.

  I parted the way like Moses, maneuvering toward the living room, but only couples sat on the couch in various stages of making out and glass shards lay on the tile flooring, crackling under my shoes. Looking at the floor, expensive porcelain lay in shambles, and I winced at the amount of money being scrunched under our feet.

  “Patterson!” a boy yelled somewhere around me. A hand clamped over my shoulder aggressively, and I winced again and raised my gaze to who was next to me.

  Jason stood taller than me by a couple inches and gazed at his party. He was wearing his white letterman jacket, adorned with orange and black yarn. He clutched a frosty beer bottle in his hand and burped as he gestured around him with a calloused finger.

  “Man, this party is probably my finest work,” he said. He smiled at a girl passing us and winked at me with his dull brown eyes. “It’s been a good run, y’know?”

  I nodded and searched the room for a trace of vibrant blonde hair. “You’ll be missed, man.”

  Jason chuckled and brought his beer to his pink lips. “Thanks, Patterson,” he mumbled past a hiccup. “I’ll probably be jamming out later with Nick if you’re sticking around for the long haul.”

  I shook my head. “I’m heading out pretty soon,” I said. “I just came to give my friend a ride home.”

  “Oh,” he said, looking at me and nodding. He smiled and gestured toward his beer. “Do you want anything to drink?”

  I shook my head again. “No, thanks.”

  Did I not just say I was a DD for someone? I thought.

  “Have you seen Liz?” I asked.

  His eyes narrowed. “Liz?” he asked. “Liz Carry?”

  I shook my head. “No, man, Liz Harrison.”

  “Oh,” he said. “She’s been in my parent’s room the whole night. I think she had way too much to drink. One of her friends said they pre-gamed before they got here. She doesn’t look so good.”

  I nodded. “Thanks, Jason.” I clapped him on the shoulder. “I’ll see you around.”

  But I knew I’d never interact with that guy again.

  I climbed the stairs as fast as I could, dodging high school kids with alcohol on their breath. When I stepped onto the landing, I was surrounded by several doors lining the hallway. Some stood open, but most of them were closed.

  I knocked on the first white door and pressed my ear onto the rough wood. The doorknob turned, but when I peeked into the room, a couple sat in a chair seemingly trying to swallow each other’s faces. Gagging, I closed the door and moved onto the next one.

  I pressed my ear to this door, but only heard the sound of a girl laughing and a boy talking to her. Behind the next door, silence spread throughout the room, so I turned the knob and revealed a small blonde girl sprawled on a huge, elegant bed.

  I ran to her side. Her hair splayed across her face and her knees were drawn toward her chest.

  “Hey, it’s me, Jake.” I placed my hand on her back. My fingers brushed her black cotton dress. She groaned. “Let’s
get you home.”

  She sniffled, coughed, and rolled onto her back so her face appeared from under the fountain of blonde hair. Her eyes were pinched together, and her lips were whiter than normal.

  “What’s wrong?” I smoothed the hair from her damp forehead.

  She opened her mouth to speak, but quickly shut it and suddenly opened her blue eyes. She rolled to the side of the bed, writhed in pain, and contorted. She opened her mouth and vomited onto the carpet. I reached over and clasped her hair at the nape of her neck and waited for the heaving to subside.

  Finally, she rose from her position and looked up at me, her face pale and sweaty and her nose running.

  “Everything hurts,” she muttered weakly. She closed her eyes and wiped her face with the back of her hand.

  I chuckled. “How much have you had to drink, Lizard?” I asked, using the old nickname from when we were kids.

  She shook her head. “I’ve only had one drink,” she answered. “I don’t know what’s wrong.” She paused as her bottom lip shook. “I’ve never felt this bad before.” Her voice cracked, and she covered her eyes with her hands.

  I moved from the bed, placed one arm under her legs and one around her waist, and hoisted her from the bed gently. Her body shook in my arms, and I carefully walked her out of the room.

  “Did you make your own drink?” I wondered if a small drug was slipped to her somehow.

  As I entered the hallway, students turned their heads and stared at us. I locked eyes with Jason standing at the bottom of the stairs, who raised his drink to me and smiled through his thick, dark facial hair.

  My heart sank when Liz was silent, but when I looked down, I realized her eyes were closed and her mouth was relaxed.

  “Liz?” I whispered, but she just groaned and pulled herself closer to my chest. “Liz, I need to know if you’re going to be okay.”

  She gave me a small smile and shook her head. “Yes,” she said quietly. “I made my own drink. No one drugged me.”

  I descended the stairs slowly, dodging the same people loitering as before. I bit the inside of my cheek, trying not to scowl as Jason met me at the bottom of the stairs. I had a bad feeling in the pit of my stomach as the thought of drugs pulsing through Liz’s system manifested in my brain.