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Authors: Delphine Dryden
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might be necessary if— if —the
procedure were to be attempted. No more than two researchers to assist, a full
written outline of the procedure to work from, and a backup shooter on hand at
the awakening to take care of Nye if he was aggressive or otherwise seemed
unsafe. He would have to be bound when he came out from under the coma, of
course. Lena said she thought that could probably be arranged.
She also went out every night to test Nye’s experimental
formulations of the hemp lure. The raw seeds drew zombies reliably, but at a
huge materials cost; the guards were grumbling about the tragic waste by the
second night. The extracted seed oil was too heavy to work well as a spray, but
certain dilution media like alcohol seemed to render the smell unpalatable to
the zombies.
After a week of nightly trials, they found the magical
balance, a diluted spray of hemp combined with a lighter oil. It brought the
zombies to the treated location and kept them interested and in one place long
enough to be easy targets. An impressive number of kills were added to the
official roster over the following three nights, and all at little risk to the
sharpshooters, as the zombies seemed wholly interested in the hemp-scented
earth or shrubs that received the spray.
It was the hemp, however, that blew Nye’s cover.
One of the farm workers, delivering a bundle of freshly cut
stalks to Watson’s office, stopped in the communal kitchen for a meal before
heading back out of the colony. In the course of his visit, a friend asked him
what Nye was working on out at the farm for so long.
By the time the driver was back out of the compound, the
rumors were starting to spread.
* * * * *
Lena struggled to keep her pace to a casual stroll on her
way from Watson’s office back to the lab. She had to look casual so as not
raise any suspicions about where she was headed in such a hurry, but if she
could have sprinted, she would have. She wanted to see the smile, the relief,
the hope on Lucas’ face when she told him that Watson had come through for
them—for him—and they could try the coma experiment.
They’d finished assembling their equipment days ago, wanting
to be ready in case Lucas turned out to have a short incubation. Now they were
at twenty-four days from infection, and Lucas’ quarters were cramped with a
second, more maneuverable hospital bed, a set of portable vitals monitors, a
few IV poles and a crash cart. Watson had helped them stock up on food and
water. The only thing left was to wait for the symptoms.
She was surprised to find she wanted the experiment to begin
sooner rather than later. Lena was contemplating why this might be, lost in
thought, when a familiar voice hailed her from across the courtyard next to the
medical building.
“Lena! Did you hear?”
“Hear what, Gilford? I’m kind of in a hurry.” She crossed
her arms over her chest, trying to look as stern and unapproachable as
possible. Although she didn’t keep on walking when the kid crossed her path,
she did stay angled toward the medical building, sending a clear signal that
she was in no mood to linger and chat.
“Lucas Nye got bit! They think he’s maybe already turned and
they’re just hiding him somewhere.”
The bottom dropped out of her world for a single moment of
sheer panic before Lena righted herself mentally and shrugged. “Who’s ‘they’?”
The kid opened his mouth then shut it again, bewildered. He
shrugged. “Everybody.”
“Nye is at the big farm doing some research, Gilford. You
should learn not to listen to gossip.”
An angry crease marred the youth’s forehead. “It wasn’t
gossip,” he insisted.
“Don’t you have an assignment you need to get to?” Lena
asked pointedly. She started walking again, overshooting the hospital and
continuing down the gravel road until she was sure Gilford wasn’t watching
anymore. Then she doubled back, this time moving at a slow trot, ignoring the familiar
rhythmic thump of her
procedure were to be attempted. No more than two researchers to assist, a full
written outline of the procedure to work from, and a backup shooter on hand at
the awakening to take care of Nye if he was aggressive or otherwise seemed
unsafe. He would have to be bound when he came out from under the coma, of
course. Lena said she thought that could probably be arranged.
She also went out every night to test Nye’s experimental
formulations of the hemp lure. The raw seeds drew zombies reliably, but at a
huge materials cost; the guards were grumbling about the tragic waste by the
second night. The extracted seed oil was too heavy to work well as a spray, but
certain dilution media like alcohol seemed to render the smell unpalatable to
the zombies.
After a week of nightly trials, they found the magical
balance, a diluted spray of hemp combined with a lighter oil. It brought the
zombies to the treated location and kept them interested and in one place long
enough to be easy targets. An impressive number of kills were added to the
official roster over the following three nights, and all at little risk to the
sharpshooters, as the zombies seemed wholly interested in the hemp-scented
earth or shrubs that received the spray.
It was the hemp, however, that blew Nye’s cover.
One of the farm workers, delivering a bundle of freshly cut
stalks to Watson’s office, stopped in the communal kitchen for a meal before
heading back out of the colony. In the course of his visit, a friend asked him
what Nye was working on out at the farm for so long.
By the time the driver was back out of the compound, the
rumors were starting to spread.
* * * * *
Lena struggled to keep her pace to a casual stroll on her
way from Watson’s office back to the lab. She had to look casual so as not
raise any suspicions about where she was headed in such a hurry, but if she
could have sprinted, she would have. She wanted to see the smile, the relief,
the hope on Lucas’ face when she told him that Watson had come through for
them—for him—and they could try the coma experiment.
They’d finished assembling their equipment days ago, wanting
to be ready in case Lucas turned out to have a short incubation. Now they were
at twenty-four days from infection, and Lucas’ quarters were cramped with a
second, more maneuverable hospital bed, a set of portable vitals monitors, a
few IV poles and a crash cart. Watson had helped them stock up on food and
water. The only thing left was to wait for the symptoms.
She was surprised to find she wanted the experiment to begin
sooner rather than later. Lena was contemplating why this might be, lost in
thought, when a familiar voice hailed her from across the courtyard next to the
medical building.
“Lena! Did you hear?”
“Hear what, Gilford? I’m kind of in a hurry.” She crossed
her arms over her chest, trying to look as stern and unapproachable as
possible. Although she didn’t keep on walking when the kid crossed her path,
she did stay angled toward the medical building, sending a clear signal that
she was in no mood to linger and chat.
“Lucas Nye got bit! They think he’s maybe already turned and
they’re just hiding him somewhere.”
The bottom dropped out of her world for a single moment of
sheer panic before Lena righted herself mentally and shrugged. “Who’s ‘they’?”
The kid opened his mouth then shut it again, bewildered. He
shrugged. “Everybody.”
“Nye is at the big farm doing some research, Gilford. You
should learn not to listen to gossip.”
An angry crease marred the youth’s forehead. “It wasn’t
gossip,” he insisted.
“Don’t you have an assignment you need to get to?” Lena
asked pointedly. She started walking again, overshooting the hospital and
continuing down the gravel road until she was sure Gilford wasn’t watching
anymore. Then she doubled back, this time moving at a slow trot, ignoring the familiar
rhythmic thump of her
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