Chapter 3
While Kate slept in, Nick entered Dr. Chamberlain’s office, gazing around at the walls lined with papers hastily tacked into the drywall: research notes, lab results, and brain scans.
A little boy, the doctor’s son, sat on the floor drawing on a piece of paper.
The doctor, enthralled in a notebook before Nick’s arrival, set the notes down and raised his eyebrows.
“Good morning, Nick. Sleep well?”
“Actually, I slept great. How are things going?” Nick asked as he sat in the leather armchair across from the doctor, resting his elbows on his knees.
From this vantage point, Nick could see part of the little boy’s picture. A superhero soared through the sky, cape fluttering in the wind behind him. On the ground below were bloody bodies, faces frozen in agony.
“Oh, things are fine here. Though, I am seeing an end to the supply of syringes. Would that be something the two of you might collect for me? We’ve scrounged up all that the upper floors have to offer, so it might mean a venture to a nearby pharmacy.
” The doctor clasped his hands on the desk, awaiting Nick’s reply.
“Sure, that shouldn’t be an issue. I’ll wake Kate, we’ll eat and head out,” Nick answered. “Oh, and doc?”
Dr. Chamberlain, having gone back to pouring over his notes, raised his head at Nick’s question.
“Have you found any other ways that people are altered after they have been infected? Aside from being undetectable to the creatures?” Nick asked, a tinge of hope coloring his voice that the doctor might have some answers. Dr. Chamberlain grinned, secret information hiding behind his smile.
“Are you feeling stronger? More resilient? Better stamina?”
“It ebbs and flows, but yes,” Nick answered. When the little boy leaned back, Nick could see his drawing in its entirety. The bodies at the bottom of the picture were broken and smothered in dirt. Red fangs protruded from their mouths.
“The proteins within the antidote do not destroy the misfolded ones. They mutate them, eradicating the negative effects while bolstering the positive traits. Do not take these new characteristics for granted. I am still investigating their full extent.”
Don’t do anything stupid. Got it.
Nick heard Dr. Chamberlain’s words, yet he could not help but smile. He looked down at his arms, pulsing with robust might. The revelations of his new attributes filled Nick with hopeful aspirations about the future.
A final glance at the boy’s picture suffocated Nick’s reverie. The hero flying through the sky wore all black with inky streaks of tattoo lines decorating his arms.
Everyone thinks you’re some hero, but you’re nothing but a coward.
His father’s callous words smeared the walls of his mind like vomit, coating him in doubt. Nick thanked the doctor and saw himself out of the room. Down the hall, Nick lowered himself to the floor in a dizzy trance.
Nothing but a coward, Nick. Nothing but a coward… nothing but a coward.
He pressed his palms to his forehead and took deep breaths while he worked to unclench his jaw. All of the failures threatened to burst through the barricade Nick had built.
“I’m a good man,” Nick whispered Kate’s words to himself.
“Who are you talking to?”
Nick’s head shot up at the sound of the small voice. Dr. Chamberlain’s son stood in front of him holding that damned picture with his head tilted curiously to one side.
“I just…”
“I drew this for you.” The boy held out the drawing. The gory pile of bodies. The fluttering cape, full of holes that only Nick could see. With a quivering hand, Nick accepted the piece of paper. The boy smiled at him: full of hope, longing, and expectation; it made Nick nauseous.
“Thank you. I really like the… blood.” Nick’s gaze poured over the paper as though he were intently interested in the artwork.
In truth, he had pinpointed a blank space on the page and was focusing on it to fight back the tears threatening to expose his weakness.
He had seen all he needed of the drawing.
“My name is Adam. My dad says we’re the same. Were you really infected? I don’t remember being infected. Do you?”
As guilt set in, Nick pulled his gaze away from the boy’s picture and met his doey, youthful eyes. Nick had little experience with children. Without siblings, he had no nieces or nephews to spoil, no young cousins in his family.
What untroubled things could Nick say to a boy whose life had been ripped away, who had become a monster and recovered only to live underground with adults who had no time for him?
Nick could tell Adam that he had been overtaken by a hungry anger—a rage so entrenched in his DNA that he itched to tear everyone apart.
He could describe the way it felt to watch Kate stand there and witness him passing away.
The hopelessness. The helplessness. The way he had never wanted anything more than to halt the changes in his body so that he could be with her.
Those were not things a hero would say.
“I don’t remember either but I hear we are stronger and faster. We still have all the good parts of the disease in us. We’re superheroes.” Nick forced his lips into a sly smile as he watched Adam’s eyes widen.
“You mean I could be a superhero, too?” Adam’s eyes widened with the delight only a child could manage. It ripped through Nick, the fact that the boy could maintain such sweet, naive innocence.
“You already are, buddy.”