The Girl Who Was Supposed to Die Page 11

  “My help? I can’t even remember them.”

  “I think if we all put our pieces of the puzzle together, we can figure this thing out. Here, sit down and I’ll try to explain.” Liz sits on the edge of the bed, which is covered with a white duvet and tons of white pillows. Ty takes the chair that’s in front of a small desk, turns it around, and straddles it. I sit in a maroon-striped wingback chair.

  “First,” Liz says, “tell me what you do know. Don’t leave out anything, no matter how unimportant it seems.”

  So I tell her what we know and what we’ve been able to find out and what we’ve guessed. But there are a few parts I find myself glossing over. I don’t tell her about the gun in my backpack or about how Michael Brenner died after I knocked him unconscious. If my aunt knew, would her opinion of me change? Would she still be so certain that I was in the right?

  “Let me start by filling in the blanks,” she says when I’m finished. “Maybe it will help you remember. Your parents work for a company called Z-Biotech. Does that sound familiar?”

  It does! I straighten up, convinced that my memory is finally returning. And then—“I heard it on the news when we were driving here.”

  “And do you know what your parents do?”

  “The radio said something about them being microbiologists.”

  “Your parents are actually virologists. That means they work with viruses. To be honest, I don’t completely understand exactly what they do. Hardly anyone does. But they’re brilliant researchers.” She sighs theatrically. “I took some science courses in college, but obviously my sister’s the one who got the real brains in the family. Anyway, two years ago, in some remote part of Eastern Oregon, a girl who lived on a farm died. She was only nineteen. And then on the way to her funeral, her boyfriend got sick. Very sick. He ended up dying on the side of the road before the ambulance even showed up.”

  She takes a deep breath. “The autopsy report said he basically drowned in his own blood.”

  CHAPTER 30

  DAY 2, 5:22 P.M.

  My aunt watches my face intently. “Do you remember any of this so far?”

  A disease that causes people to drown in their own blood? I shake my head. I don’t. At least, I don’t think I do. It’s too hard to describe what I’m beginning to feel. Like trying to recall a dream a week after you have it. You’ve completely forgotten about it, and then the flash of a bird’s wing or walking down a metal staircase conjures up part of your dream, bringing it into the real world. But only a few seconds feel sharp. The rest is still gone, and the more you try to remember, the less you succeed.

  “Your parents were the ones who figured out it was a new strain of hantavirus that’s being spread by field mice.” She looks at me closely. “Does that sound familiar? Hantavirus?”

  Slowly, I shake my head. Familiar isn’t the word for what I’m feeling. It’s more like dread.

  “So the mice were biting people?” Ty asks.

  “No,” Liz says. “According to Janie, basically all a field mouse does is eat, poop, and have babies. And give hantavirus to each other when they mate or fight. Two years ago it rained a lot, which led to a huge wheat crop, which eventually led to an explosion in the field mice population. When it got hot, their droppings dried up. And then in barns and farms around Eastern Oregon, those powdery droppings got kicked up and inhaled. Eight people had the bad luck to breathe in those tiny particles, which carried hantavirus. Those people died.”

  “All of them?” Ty asks.

  Liz sighs. “All of them. It’s the most deadly strain of hantavirus ever discovered. It doesn’t kill its hosts—the field mice—but it does kill humans.” She turns to me. “It was your parents who figured it out. One person dying in one county, another in the next—it got misdiagnosed as pneumonia or the flu. But your parents had a hunch and began testing rodents in Eastern Oregon—the voles, the ground squirrels, the field mice—and figured out it was really a new strain of hantavirus.”

  “So?” Ty leans forward. “What does a disease carried by field mice have to do with men wanting to kill Cady?”

  “Because her parents have also figured out the other half.” Holding her hands facing each other, Liz links her fingers together, then looks at me over her interlaced fingers. “For the past year, your parents have been working on a vaccine for the new strain.”

  “But a vaccine’s a good thing, isn’t it?” I say. Then why do I feel so bad?

  “Some vaccines do more than just keep you from catching a disease. Some also stop the virus in people who have already been exposed, but haven’t gotten sick yet.”

  “That’s how it works with rabies,” Ty says. “And tetanus. If you give the shots to people soon enough after they’ve been bitten by a rabid animal or stepped on a rusty nail, they don’t get sick.”

  “Right,” Liz says, but her blue eyes never leave mine. “Last year, Z-Biotech was sold. The new owners weren’t scientists, but Janie said they were fascinated with the idea that a vaccine could work even after exposure. They ordered your parents not to talk about the vaccine results, although it was working perfectly in animals. They said they didn’t want to lose their market advantage.” Her mouth twists. “Janie and Patrick are smart, but they live in their own little world. They didn’t see that having both things—a devastating disease and the cure to that disease—could mean the makings of a weapon.”

  “A weapon?” Things are taking a turn I never imagined. “You mean like in war?” When Liz nods, I say, “But aren’t those kinds of weapons illegal?” Her words are setting off echoes. Something about this conversation feels so familiar.

  “Biological warfare was outlawed forty years ago,” she says. “But it’s not illegal to research how to defend against it.”

  Ty straightens up. “Aren’t those things really two sides of the same coin?” he asks. “If you’re researching how to defend yourself, couldn’t that same research be used to figure out how to attack someone else?”

  “Exactly. And the coin can get very thin at times.” Liz beams at him and then turns to me. “This boy of yours is bright.”

  We both flush, for different reasons. He’s not a boy and he’s not mine.

  “But what about the government?” I ask. “Don’t they know what’s going on?”

  Liz shakes her head. “No one in the federal government keeps track of how many labs there are in the U.S., let alone what research they’re doing. They do monitor a few pathogens, like anthrax. But hantavirus isn’t one of them.”

  I think of Pandora’s box. “But how could hantavirus be used as a weapon anyway? Wouldn’t it just kill everyone once you started spreading it around? Hantavirus doesn’t care who it kills.”

  “But it isn’t spread from person to person,” Liz says. “And with the vaccine, you could choose who didn’t get sick after breathing in the virus.”

  I nod, but I’m not quite following.

  Liz leans closer. “Okay, imagine a bomb, one that’s filled with the droppings of infected field mice that have been dried out and pulverized. Which means trillions of infected particles have been weaponized. Say the bomb is set off in Country A’s capital. In about four days, everyone who breathed in the particles—the president, the judges, the statesmen, and of course the citizens—starts to get sick. Muscle aches, fever, weakness. At first people think it’s the flu. Only, ninety-five percent of them will die within a few days of exhibiting symptoms.” She waits a minute for this to sink in.

  “So during a war,” I say, “a country could drop the bomb, kill everyone, and then send in vaccinated soldiers to clean up.”

  She nods. “There’s another possibility, one that’s less drastic. What if they set off the bomb and then offered people the vaccine in the first three days of exposure, before the symptoms start? That way no one would get sick, or if they did it would be mild.”

  “But what would be the point of that?” Ty asks.

  “Before they got the vaccine, the government of Coun
try A might have to meet certain demands. Maybe the government would have to step down. Or maybe they would have to give up their nuclear weapons.”

  “So our government wants this hantavirus and the vaccine?” Ty asks.

  “A lot of people might want it,” she says. “It could also be used on a smaller scale, say, putting the virus in the air vents of a shopping mall or a casino or a school. Or contaminating letters with powdered virus and sending them to the media or politicians or CEOs. Or renting a cropduster and spraying the virus over a football stadium or a parade route. And if the people who inhale the virus want to live, they have to pay.”

  Ty puts his finger on something that had nagged me. “But if I didn’t feel sick and you told me that in four days I was going to die from a disease I’d never heard of, why would I believe you?”

  “Another good question,” Liz says. “For it to work, a small number of people might need to be infected earlier. As an example of what could happen.”

  “As an example?” I echo. “But they would die! Who would do something that terrible? Terrorists?” I imagine men calling out to God as they press a lever.

  “Or just people who want to make a lot of money.” Liz looks from Ty to me. “How much would you pay for a cure if you knew you were going to die?”

  CHAPTER 31

  DAY 2, 5:52 P.M.

  Ty and I don’t say anything. We just look at each other. It’s clear what the answer is. If you knew you were going to die, you would pay anything, do anything.

  I feel dizzy. I don’t know if it’s from everything that’s happened in the last two days, the headache, or what Liz just told us. Probably all three.

  “Has Z-Biotech done anything with it yet?” Ty asks.

  “Most of the first batch of vaccine went to animal testing and then, when that worked, on a few human volunteers at the lab. Now they’re making a new vaccine, but it takes weeks. First you have to inject live virus into fertilized eggs and incubate them while the virus replicates. And then to make the vaccine, you have to mix embalming fluid with the liquid inside the eggs.”

  “That kills the virus,” Ty says. “I’ve read about killed virus vaccines. Killed virus can’t cause an infection but it will still kick the immune system into gear if someone is vaccinated with it.”

  Liz nods. “That’s right. Janie was so excited when it looked like the vaccine might be successful. Then she and Patrick began to suspect what Z-Biotech was planning on doing with it. But they needed proof. If they made accusations that turned out to be wrong, their careers would be over. And without proof, Z-Biotech could just destroy the evidence. So they started secretly taking photos and going through files.” My aunt’s voice gets an edge. “I told Janie it wasn’t safe. But you know your mother—she’s stubborn. She said they were covering their tracks. But someone at Z-Biotech must have realized what they were doing.”

  “But what’s happened to them since they called you?” It’s hard for me to get the words out. “The radio said they found human remains in our family’s cabin.”

  Liz leans forward and squeezes my hand. This time I don’t pull away. “Oh, Cady, did you think it was them? That story was probably planted by Z-Biotech. Yesterday morning your parents went to work and got caught getting the last piece of evidence they needed. They took Max and left. They tried to warn you, but couldn’t get in touch. So they left a bizarre message at your school to let you know something was wrong. And then they called and asked me to help you.

  “But by the time I heard your mom’s message, those two men had already grabbed you. Beaten you up. Searched your house. They wanted to know where the evidence or your parents were, but you said you didn’t know.” Her eyes search mine. “But now that you know what really happened, are you starting to remember?” She lets go of my hand.

  “Maybe.”

  “Z-Biotech is not only looking for the evidence your parents took but for something else. Your parents are the only ones who have ever been successful in making a hantavirus vaccine. But they used some trick, some formula to make it work, and they told me they planned to take that with them. It’s only in their heads, not on paper.”

  The pressure in my temple eases a little bit. “So now Z-Biotech won’t be able to sell the virus and the vaccine to the highest bidder?”

  “They still have a batch of vaccine in production, plus a little that was left over from the earlier testing. But that’s it, unless Z-Biotech can find the formula. That must be why they searched the cabin, in case your parents had hidden anything there. But they found nothing, and you seemed to know nothing. So they decided to kill you. To them, you were as disposable as a piece of Kleenex.”

  Ty shakes his head and makes a wordless sound of protest.

  “After you escaped, they knew they had to start spreading lies about you. That way, if you went to the police, they wouldn’t believe a word you say.” Her eyes never waver from my face. “But the thing is, Cady, I think you really do know something. I think your mind shut down to prevent you from telling those men. I think you know where your parents are or where they hid the information.”

  “I don’t though.” The throbbing in my temple is worse. “Or if I did, it’s all gone. Some of what you said does sound familiar, but I can’t remember any more than that.”

  “Please, Cady, you’re the only chance we have to find my sister. To find your family. Janie and Patrick must be holed up someplace, not sure whom they can trust. I know people who could help them. But that can’t happen unless we find them or unless we can find evidence that proves what Z-Biotech is doing. And we can’t let the company get to them or that information first.”

  “But I don’t know anything.” If only my head didn’t hurt so much! My thoughts are muddled and slow. Everything my aunt says has set off echoes in me, but they’re so faint and fleeting I can’t grab hold of a single thought.

  She stands up. I tilt my head to look at her. It feels like a stainless steel spike is being driven through my temple. “You know how I know you know something?”

  “How?” I look past her at the fluffy white bed. If only I could climb under the covers and pull the pillows over my head. Block out the light, go to sleep, and forget the pain in my body and my mind.

  “Because your parents prepared you. Look at how you knew how to disable this man, this Michael Brenner. The typical sixteen-year-old girl wouldn’t know kung fu or karate or whatever you used.”

  “That just came out of nowhere,” I say. It’s still horrifying to think I killed a man. Killed him like I was on autopilot. “I didn’t even know I knew how to do that until suddenly I was doing it.”

  “The same thing might happen with your mind. Maybe if you can get in the right space for it, you’ll remember whatever it was they so desperately wanted to know.” Liz nods, as if she has made a decision. “We should go to your house. Once you’re in a familiar environment, things could come back to you.”

  “But seeing you didn’t help,” I point out. “It didn’t change anything.”

  She frowns. “Yes, but it’s not like we saw each other in person more than once every year or two. Being back in your house, the place where you lived with your family, the place where these men captured you—that could jog your memory. Maybe you’d even figure out where your parents might hide something.”

  Ty says, “But you said Z-Biotech already questioned Cady, and she didn’t know anything then.”

  “But she was determined not to answer because she wanted to protect them. So determined she managed to lock everything away. I don’t think Cady threw away the key. It’s like Tyler said, Cady.” She points at my head. “It’s all still in there, someplace.”

  “Yeah, well, speaking of keys, I don’t even have a key to my house.” I think Liz is wrong. I think my memories are gone forever.

  From the pocket of her jeans, she produces a silver house key. “I have one from when I house-sat for you while your family went on vacation in Hawaii.” But after Ty gets to his f
eet, she says, “You should probably stay here, Ty. If anyone catches us, we could all end up in jail. Cady is a suspect in her parents’ disappearance. At a minimum, you would be charged with aiding and abetting.”

  “I’ve come this far.” Ty sets his jaw. I haven’t even known him for a full day, but looking at his expression I know he won’t be dissuaded. “I’m not leaving Cady, not now.”

  “But you’re the one who stole the car in Bend,” Liz points out. “That’s a felony.”

  He walks over to me and puts his hand under my elbow. “That doesn’t matter. I’m not leaving Cady.”

  CHAPTER 32

  DAY 2, 6:21 P.M.

  Liz’s car, a sleek dark blue Avalon, is parked not far from where we left the Subaru. I sit in front with my hood pulled up. Ty sits behind me.

  At first, I try to recognize landmarks, the signs and buildings and businesses in the center of the city, even though I hadn’t when we first drove into town. I rest my forehead against the cool glass and ignore my pounding head. Everyone is quiet, and the radio isn’t on, so I don’t have to worry about hearing my name. The sole sound in the car is the swish-swish of the wipers.

  It’s only after I give up, after Liz turns the car in to a neighborhood of older two-story houses with porches and yards and the occasional basketball hoop that something begins to stir in the back of my mind.

  Am I imagining it, or do things look familiar? Or maybe every city has a neighborhood that looks like this. My index finger is pressed into my temple, providing a counterpoint to the pain inside.

  Lost in my own thoughts, I’m startled when Liz pulls over and parks. “Your house is just up the block,” she says. “We’ll go in the back. Quickly, in case one of the neighbors thinks you really are some sociopathic killer.” She surveys the empty street before she gets out of the car. The rain is now coming down hard enough to discourage anyone from being outside.