She fought against a growing panic. “Why am I tied up like this? And what’s the hose thing between my legs?”
Putting the dead rats into a lift-top freezer, Castro said, “The restraints are so you don’t hurt yourself. The hose is a catheter.”
Catheter? She felt humiliated, said, “Untie me.”
The doctor tilted his head, said, “I can’t do that.”
“Untie me!” she shouted. “I know when I can and can’t fulfill my needs.”
“This isn’t about your needs. I chose you, remember, Luna?”
A dread came around her like mist and caustic fog. She struggled against the lashes and screamed, “Help! Help!”
“No one can hear you,” Castro said, twirling his gloved index finger, “the outer building has been soundproofed.”
He crossed to a refrigerator, opened it, and retrieved an eight-inch stainless-steel canister fitted with a hose and nozzle. Attached perpendicularly to the base of the nozzle was a four-inch-long green canister and a pressure gauge.
“What is that?” she asked, trying to squirm away as he came toward her with it.
“A modified airbrush system,” he said, and he gestured at the larger canister. “This contains a propellant.”
He pointed to the smaller one, said, “And this one contains rat blood infected with Hydra-9. I modified the airbrush so the propellant drives the blood through a series of screens inside the nozzle. Exiting under pressure, the blood will become an aerosol. Think of it like a virus cloud or fog.”
Luna stared at him, horrified, screamed, “You can’t do this!”
“I have to do this,” he said, fiddling with the control.
“Please, this isn’t right!”
“Lots of things aren’t right, Luna. Ask Antonio.”
“You know my husband?” she choked out.
“We’ve never met, but I’m acquainted with his work.”
The doctor grabbed Luna by her hair. She screamed, tried to fight, but he got the nozzle in front of her face and mashed some kind of trigger.
There was a whooshing sound. A short, sharp burst of fine pink haze blew out of the nozzle, coated her nose, lips, and eyes like sea spray.
“No!” Luna screeched and writhed. “No!”
Chapter 29
ONE HOUR AND thirty-seven minutes postinfection, Luna was deteriorating rapidly. Sweating. Feverish. Borderline delirious. Dr. Castro had taken blood samples every fifteen minutes since the start of the experiment. Hydra-9 was definitely in her system, and wreaking havoc.
With each blood sample, Castro could see evidence of the virus spreading like a flame through Luna’s major organs, leaving in its wake those nine-headed husks; the Hydra-9 infection was like a horde of insects breeding and feeding. The virus invaded cells and spun cocoons inside them that cracked to yield multiple offspring of the virus that in turn invaded more cells. And so on.
It was an exponential assault that caused a cascading effect within the host’s system as one after another of the major organs burned out and shut down. The kidneys always seemed to be the first to go.
Luna’s temperature had hovered around one hundred and two but now began to climb. One hundred and three point one. One hundred and three point six. One hundred and four point zero.
Luna’s eyes were glazed. She looked over at the rat still moving in the tank and laughed madly. “You’re going to save me. That’s why you chose me, right?”
“That would be counterproductive, Luna,” Castro replied. “I really don’t know yet what Hydra-9 does to a human in the full course of an unchecked infection.”
“You’re insane,” she hissed weakly.
“Actually, I’m the sanest man I know.”
Her fever began to spike higher. One hundred and four point five. One hundred and four point seven. Luna trembled and twitched, closed her eyes.
“Why’re you doing this?” she said, gasping.
“Science.”
“You said ask Antonio.”
Castro paused, nodded. “Your husband played a significant part in the motivation behind the science. He and others stole precious things from me.”
“Stole? Antonio? Never.”
“Definitely.”
“What’d he steal?”
“My dignity,” Castro said. “And my wife.”
Luna’s glassy, bloodshot eyes snapped open. Sweating and shaking, she gaped at Castro as if he were a fading light on a dark highway. She moved her lips, tried to form words but couldn’t. Then she arched up into a convulsion and writhed, her eyes bugging out and unseeing. As suddenly as it had started, the neurological frying ended. Luna collapsed as if deflated and died with blood seeping from her eyes and nose.
Castro felt a pang of remorse but no regret. Luna’s death was just. It was fair. A way of restoring balance. And it served a nobler purpose. He looked to the clock and felt the remorse ebb away. Elapsed time from misting to last heartbeat: one hour, fifty-two minutes, and twenty seconds.
“Perfect,” he said.
Chapter 30
Saturday, July 30, 2016
4:20 a.m.