The Far Side of Eden, Part 1: The Five Point Pathogen
So this won't be up forever. I'm looking for some beta reads on this story before I give final revisions and send it in. I'd love to hear your thoughts! I'm more than willing to give critiques on your work in exchange as well. Just drop links in your comment! ~Dylon
I stare at a woman made of fire as she dances in the flames. She whispers her secrets and I hear many words of note, but I fail to register the words until she mentions it: our enemy, "...it's The Five Point Pathogen."
“Liza,” I say, still lost in the flames, “are you sure?”
Liza frowns, a strange thing to see in a brushfire, "Today's the day. Every five years, remember?"
“It's nearby?” I ask, already knowing the answer. She nods. The news makes me nauseous. Where did the time go?
Liza points to the house, "Eden, Connecticut. We should get ready."
I obey, picking up a diamond-shaped trinket on the ground, the Ignis Candle. Moving it causes Liza’s form to flicker and stretch as I walk away. The flames are absorbed into the candle as the two of us become one, our spirits bound together.
The feeling brings comfort, but I hate letting the fires die. I hate confining her to my meager body of flesh and bone. I long to watch her more, just a little while longer. I always need to force my eyes away from the flames. The urges are infuriating, but never out of control.
She reassures me, not with words, but with hope and impatience. She writhes in my soul with the need to burn and consume; a need I'm always willing to fulfill.
I enter the house, shave, and lay out my uniform on our bed. I reach for the hook on the wall, removing a chain necklace threaded through Liza's wedding ring. I put it on, and begin suiting up.
I look over the Kevlar suit. My eyes scan the logo on the front, the picture of a flame with the words "Crucible Sanitation” written underneath. I put the suit on then another suit over it.
The second suit looks like a layer of thin, pliant glass, complete with a detachable helmet. It's design is catered to this particular pathogen. Nothing else can keep it out.
I grab the respirator and wireless earbuds, put them on, then strap several pouches to my side. I take my phone, insert it into a fitted slot on the glass suit, and pack the tools of my trade.
I pack thermite charges and other explosives. I pack a crowbar, ammunition, and a spare respirator. I pick up my rifle, a weapon of sleek design painted orange and black. The process is quick, and each time it gets quicker.
I feel a vibration move up my arm. I look to see I have a new message. When I view it, I see a video of a healthy child in the lens of a traffic camera. She walks along sickened streets, exposing herself to the most deadly pathogen in the world without fear or consequence. I call the number. A woman answers and I give a series of numeric codes.
She replies, "Identification protocol, status, and restriction?"
“Activation protocol: Agent Daniel K Bradley. Crucible Sanitation. Status: Active. Operation Restriction: Eden, Connecticut.”
The woman fell silent for a moment. I hear tapping on a keyboard and then she replies, “Confirmed. Transport is on the way.”
I wait on the front porch, the tension building. I imagine the flames; the beauty of cinders rising to the sky. After half an hour, a black helicopter flies overhead. It's almost silent, the whistle of the air being the only sound indicating its arrival.
I board, and a pale man in a black suit sits across from me with. Next to me sits a brown-skinned woman with a smile on her face. While my kevlar suit is yellow, like all sanitation workers in Crucible. Hers is navy blue, the color of Ignis Medical. I tilt my head.
In many ways we both are part of the same organization, but Crucible and Ignis seldom work together.
Ignis focuses on R&D, and Crucible does the dirty work. More confusing is the fact that one agent can handle most operations. Why is she here?
The woman reaches her hand out, “Sheridan Yates,”
“Daniel Bradley,” I reply, shaking her hand, “Are you going into the field?”
She nods, “I was assigned to assist in extraction and study the girl.”
“Extraction?”
“No one has ever survived Five Point before. She could be immune,” Sheridan said.
My eyes go wide, “This isn't what I do.”
The man in the black suit replies, “We can find someone else.”
I shake my head, already picturing the flames. The tension builds. I can't turn back now, “What if we fail?”
“Don't fail,” the man replied.
The hours pass as we discuss the plan. The girl is under surveillance, but lingers around the heart of the outbreak. Sheridan mentions timeframes and the man scoffs at her, as if it wasn't good enough. Did he think this was going to be easy?
I speak, interrupting Sheridan’s third contingency plan, “You seem to think this is going to be an in-and-out kind of job.”
“I tried telling him," Sheridan replied, continuing when our eyes met, "I didn't want to argue. I know its a stretch. Two hours is possible though, isn't it?"
I chuckle, "Have you ever encountered Five Point?”
“No, but I've read the reports. I know how hard this will be, but our friend here wants this done quick and quiet.”
“Five Point isn't quiet,” I say, turning to the man. “You don't have the authority to dictate how we do this. We have no idea what we're walking into.”
The man opens his mouth to speak, but Sheridan cuts him off, “He's right. Our organizations are independent. Like I said before, It doesn't matter whose soil we’re on."
The man glares as Sheridan continues, "We will try, but in the end, we do it our way. Do you know what The Five Point Pathogen is?”
“It's a disease, only weirder,” the man replies.
“Youre kidding me,” I say.
Sheridan shakes her head, "It's a living contagion. Every time we encounter it, it's different."
"Last time it mimicked the bubonic plague. Before that it manifested as a parasite." I add. "Imagine bacteria or a virus that can think and regulate its spread to maximize efficiency. We still don't know what type of contagion it is because it acts like everything it could possibly be.” I pause, take a breath, and wonder if my shortness is due to anger of anxiety as I yearn for the flames.
"How do you know it's Five Point then?" the man asks.
Sheridan answers the question before I can, "Almost all members of our organizations have an entity of fire bound to them. Spirits, demons, and the like." Sheridan's hands move, illustrating her words, "These entities sense it. We train them to."
"If you can do that, why don't you know anything else about it?" the man asks.
"It will kill itself if we collect samples," she replies. "We sense it, but we can't study it.”
“Are your saying it's intelligent?” the man asks.
“Yes,” I reply. He tries to speak again, but I ignore him, turning to Sheridan, “A report isn't going to prepare you for this.”
“How should I reconsider these plans, then?” she asks, her skin going pale.
“It's a little late for that,” I say, glancing out the window to see white tents on the ground, drawing closer.
Before I continue, I pause. I'm being rude, and Liza makes damn sure I know it. I can sense her disapproval, “It's a good plan," I say with a smile. "The timeframe is what's wrong. Maybe with more people, but with just us?” I shake my head.
The helicopter begins its descent as Sheridan speaks, “Then what is an appropriate timeframe?”
“We’re talking four hours, at least. This accounts for things that can go wrong. We need to clear a path, reach the hive, collect the girl, and try and make it back before the pathogen can adapt.” We jump to the ground and walk to the edge of the quarantine zone
“What then?” Sheridan asks, keeping up the pace as we quickly moved through the camp.
“Then your job in the field ends. You study the girl. My job can take days.”
The guards holding the perimeter of the town wear hazmat suits, confident it will keep them safe. I can’t blame their superiors for not telling them the truth. Five Point rips and eats tiny holes in most materials. It can hitch a ride anywhere and no one would know.
I retrieve the Ignis Candle, attach it to the rifle, and Liza separates from me. Every time we separate, we experience shared memories. We relive our wedding day through each other's eyes, our adventures together back when we were dating, and the memory of her death. This experience occurred within a fraction of a second.
A plume of fire bursts forth. I feel empty, a piece of me removed to form the figure of a woman in a stream of flame shooting out of the candle's tip. I load a white capsule with an orange stripe around the center. I wait for Sheridan to do the same.
Her rifle looks different, as does her candle. Both appear more refined, shimmering with blue paint. I assume they're prototypes, a new model of the Ignis Rifle that requires an updated candle. She attaches it, and her own companion reveals itself.
She calls it Djinn, a wasp looking creature made of ashes and red-hot coal. It darts around, surveying the area, then lands on the barrel of her rifle.
“Cute,” I say.
“That’s a word for it,” she replies, “He's an ash spirit. Yours?”
I smile, “My late wife,” Sheridan narrows her eyes and cocks her head, but then forces her face back to neutral in fear of offending me.
I laugh, “I think she's a ghost. Some kind of revenant? I don't know, but that’s what I believe.”
She smiles then nods as she loads a blue capsule into her rifle. She gestures to the gate, and steps forward.
Each time we encounter Five Point, our senses are a critical asset. It's easy to get a false sense of security when dealing with something you can't observe. Five Point can be smelled before you witness its effects. As we approach, we smell a blend of mildew, sulfur, and freshly mowed grass.
The smell still makes me shiver.
The anticipation grows. The agony of waiting roots in my mind like an itch you can't scratch. Liza feels it too, growing restless in the candle.
We enter a medical tent and emerge on the other side, alone. The commotion from the camp disappears, leaving only silence. We hear static in our ears and I notice Sheridan’s furrowed brow as she reaches up to inspect her earpiece.
"Five point requires a radio blackout." I say. "Can't have pictures circulating online and don't want people calling loved ones.”
"That's horrible," she replies, and I shrug.
Black spores move in the air, drifting to the ground like snow. I recognize diseased patches of grass and leaves where spores fell from before.
I see the bodies, imagine them burning, and immediately take aim. I love this moment. In the time it took for my finger to pull the trigger, Liza rages. The fire that streams from the candle sputters and twists in the air. My muscles tighten and my mind focuses on setting Liza free.
When I pull the trigger, the capsule spins. I hear a roar as the gun springs to life. The capsule releases its contents: tiny pellets that burst and grow when shot from the barrel. A blazing stream of expanding foam flies from the rifle with a range of seventy-five feet.
The flame from the candle disappears. Liza embeds herself in the flames, encouraging them to burn faster; hotter. She inhabits the embers as the black spores burn. I watch her swim in the flaming ocean I create. Anything she touches turns to ash. The trees blacken, burned beyond recognition. Some collapse under their weight, falling to the ground, further spreading the glorious flames.
Liza giggles, screaming with joy as she disappears from one target and reappears at the next. I know nothing that comes close to the sound of her laugh. The distance never matters. She phases from one blaze to another, cackling with the sound of a crackling flame.
I realize how stupid I must look as I stare. I watch with a grin stretching from ear to ear. The tension from before is fading. I feel relief.
We march forward, nearing the edge of the small town. Liza follows, eager for new paths to explore.
“Wait,” Sheridan says, and I force my legs to stop moving.
“Yes?” I reply, a little louder than intended. Sheridan taps her candle, and Djinn darts into the air above us. Her eyes glaze over as she watches through Djinn's eyes.
“He can scout? That’s a neat trick,” I say, watching the tiny light zip around the sky. I then realize how bad of an idea it is.
Sheridan lowers her voice, “Jesus,”
I shake my head, “Sorry, I should have warned you.”
"The town is…” she begins, a mile long stare on her face, “I've never seen anything like this.”
“They don't include pictures in the reports, do they?" I say. "I'm sorry to say this, but It gets worse." I step out of the treeline and onto a concrete parking lot, "It's your first time dealing with this, I wouldn't let your friend wander too high."
I notice the building across from me, a restaurant with black vines spreading up the walls like veins. I exchange a smile with Liza, both of us itching to begin. I burst into a sprint, Liza forging a path of flames to catch up. Her excitement rivals mine.
Sheridan insists on moving forward, and I ignore her. I catch Sheridan staring, but not at the fire. Her curiosity aims for Liza. I'm shocked she isn't asking questions about her.
The building catches the flame. I feel the wave of heat. I hear the taint of the contagion sear and sizzle. The chemical smell of the ammunition coupled with burning wood reaches my nose. I feel complete. I let out a sigh.
"I understand,” Sheridan says, placing her hand on my shoulder, “but we still have a little girl to find." She steps in front of me and stares into my eyes, "please."
I want to say no, but Liza draws my attention. I sense her in the back of my mind. She pulls my eyes in her direction like gravity. I turn to the burning building and see her in the window. She places her hand on the glass which softens and melts at her touch. I marvel at the sight. She smiles, then disappears. The candle reignites on the rifle. I shake my head, laughing.
"What?" Sheridan asks.
I struggle to turn away from the flames as I reply, "I’m outvoted.”
I make my way to the adjacent building and then the next. I light minor fires, watch the building go up in flames, then move on. Sheridan spends much of this time scouting ahead, but moves slower with each passing building. The closer to the epicenter of the outbreak we travel, the more alien the world around us looks.
We approach the hive, ground zero. The vines along the walls are massive, twisting, and pulsing. The bodies are no longer bodies. These people survive the infection for a time, carriers.
When five point feels threatened, it changes. It starts sprouting like a fungus, creating spores to fly on the wind. Before dying, the victims kneel on the ground. Stems form in the victim's spine. The brain is gone, replaced by black stalks and purple flowers. The flowers bloom, spores dispersing from the skull as the skin peels back along five seems, like flower petals. The inside of the skin forms a pitch black layer of what feels like leather. It’s the hardest part to burn.
Sheridan gags, turning from the sight as I aim the rifle and pull the trigger. I can't blame her. I know what it's like to see this up close for the first time. I remember this from five years ago, the pathogen trying to adapt to my presence by behaving like a fungus. It never works. Sheridan fights it. I did too when I considered the consequences of vomiting in an airtight suit.
The bodies burn, a gradual process that takes time and effort. The heat rushes around me, but I can't feel it like most do. Thanks to Liza, It's impossible for my body to burn. Sheridan glances back, refusing to turn from the sight again. It sets us back, but she needs to adjust.
"Take your time," I say. "I know it's rough. Have you not been in the field before?"
"I'm always in the field, just not this close," she replies, "In the labs and medical tents, we don't see this kind of thing."
I identify our goal, much closer than I anticipated. We hear the sounds of buildings crumbling under their weight.
The sound of gunfire goes off in the distance. We turn back, realize it came from the camp, and Sheridan speaks with a quiet panic, shaking her voice, "What are they shooting at?"
I turn back, walking ahead as a I reply, "locals trying to break quarantine. Happens all the time."
"I didn't know that? Why are we such assholes?"
"The needs of the many," I reply as we approach the hive. Liza felt nervous, which only made me feel the same. For the first time, we feel like it's better to turn away and run. What if this was all a trap? What if the girl is a ruse? I wonder why I would even think that.
I have a mild panic of my own. It's hard to take the next step. Hesitation keeps my feet firmly planted until my need to burn overpowers it. I watch the hive at the end of the street. The houses around it blazing in infernal glory. The spores vanish in black wisps as we enter a cul-de-sac. When we view the hive up close, we encounter a house transformed into something else.
I notice the front door, more like the entrance to a cave than a family home. Massive growths weave through the walls, forcing them to conform to a more alien design. Giant black stalks protrude from the ground. I look up and see giant black flowers at the head of each stalk.
Spores spit out of them. They drift on the wind, spreading across the town. We step inside, following a winding path of circular shafts that thread through the house. The same black, leathery substance lines the walls. We find the living room, then enter another dark corridor to find a kitchen.
Djinn and Liza travel ahead, searching for the little girl and any other hazards. We find her hiding in a panic room hidden behind a study. I reach into my pack and pull out a thermite charge, set it on the door, and step back. The sparks fly, tracing along its given path. It cuts through the steel around the lock and I see the door give way.
I grab my crowbar, pry the door open, then step in to look around. Sheridan follows behind me, Djinn and Liza further exploring the hive for the best places to start a fire. The girl, who appears around five years old, sits in a corner with her head hidden behind her knees.
I take note of how plain she looks, no different from any other child, save for the grime in her curls and the blood stains on her clothes.
"Hello?" Sheridan says, her voice raised as she tapped on the metal wall, "Can I come in?" The girl neither replies, nor glances up, "Hello?"
Sheridan steps further into the room and the girl looks up. The girl gasps, stands, and presses herself against the far wall. "It's okay," Sheridan says, "we’re here to get you out."
The little girl squints, her hands moving rapidly, but with purpose. Each motion was deliberate, meant to convey a meaning
"Oh," Sheridan said with a smile, her hands moving in response. She turns back to me, "Sign language. She's deaf."
I nod, and remain patient as they talk. After several minutes, Sheridan spoke up, "She locked herself in to keep herself safe. Been here for most of the day."
“Safe from what?” I ask.
Sheridan shrugs, “She says she saw a monster.”
I chuckle as I look around, the surrounding growths could easily be confused for monsters, "Will she come with us?"
"Yes," Sheridan replies. She works through another exchange of signed words. "Her name is Candida." Sheridan reaches out her hand, and the girl takes it. We left the house without much incident, Djinn guiding us through the maze of tunnels and rooms. Liza sets fire to every surface that can burn. The fire spreads to the houses surrounding the hive.
The giant flowers break apart in fine powder, hitting the ground and sending a wisp of spores in the air. The spores fly around, desperate to escape the flames, as if alive and aware of the danger.
We hear the humming again, but louder than before. The sound spreads from the pathogen itself. Everything infected vibrates in radically changing pitches. The sound changes in nonsensical ways like an infant trying to say its first words.
I reload another capsule and pull the trigger. Liza lends a hand, cackling with glee as she manipulates the flame. We walk and Liza follows. She takes her time, setting fire to everything in sight that isn't already a pile of ashes.
I'm glad Liza has learned to stop and smell the burning roses.
Btw is the name Candida supposed to make me think 'Honest'?