Contagion
Teri Terry
2019 First U.S. Edition
Copyright © 2019 by Teri Terry
All rights reserved, including the right of reproduction in whole or in part in any form. Charlesbridge and colophon are registered trademarks of Charlesbridge Publishing, Inc.
At the time of publication, all URLs printed in this book were accurate and active. Charlesbridge and the author are not responsible for the content or accessibility of any website.
Published by Charlesbridge
85 Main Street, Watertown, MA 02472
(617) 926-0329 • www.charlesbridgeteen.com
First published in 2017 by Orchard Books
An imprint of Hachette Children’s Group
Part of the Watts Publishing Group Limited
Carmelite House
50 Victoria Embankment
London EC4Y 0DZ
An Hachette UK Company
www.hachette.co.uk
www.hachettechildrens.co.uk
Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data
Names: Terry, Teri, author.
Title: Contagion / by Teri Terry.
Description: Watertown, MA: Charlesbridge, 2019. |
Series: Dark matter trilogy; book 1 | “Orchard Books.” |
“First published in Great Britain in 2017 by The Watts Publishing Group”—Copyright page. |
Summary: A deadly, mysterious epidemic is sweeping the country, and young kidnap victim Callie is one of the few who survived infection, only to be sacrificed by her captors at a secret lab working with antimatter; her older brother Kai is desperate to find out what happened to her—his best hope lies with Shay, the girl who last saw Callie alive, and together they will seek answers, even if it means evading soldiers and crossing the quarantine zone.
Identifiers: LCCN 2018025620 (print) | LCCN 2018040192 (ebook) | ISBN 9781632898104 (ebook) | ISBN 9781580899895 (reinforced for library use)
Subjects: LCSH: Epidemics—Juvenile fiction. | Missing persons—Juvenile fiction. | Memory—Juvenile fiction. | Antimatter—Juvenile fiction. | Dystopias—Juvenile fiction. | Identity (Psychology)—Juvenile fiction. | Brothers and sisters—Juvenile fiction. | Science fiction. | Great Britain—Juvenile fiction. | CYAC: Science fiction. | Epidemics—Fiction. | Missing children—Fiction. | Memory—Fiction. | Antimatter—Fiction. | Identity—Fiction. | Brothers and sisters—Fiction. | Great Britain—Fiction. | LCGFT: Science fiction.
Classification: LCC PZ7.T2815 (ebook) | LCC PZ7.T2815 Co 2019 (print) | DDC 813.6 [Fic] —dc23
LC record available at https://lccn.loc.gov/2018025620
Ebook ISBN 9781632898104
Production supervision by Brian G. Walker
Cover and map art by Sarah Richards Taylor
Ebook design adapted from printed book designed by Sarah Richards Taylor
v5.4
a
In memory of Sue Hyams, whose story ended too soon
Contents
Cover
Title Page
Copyright
Dedication
Map
Prologue: Xander
Part 1: The Stray
Chapter 1: Subject 369X
Chapter 2: Shay
Chapter 3: Subject 369X
Chapter 4: Shay
Chapter 5: Subject 369X
Chapter 6: Shay
Chapter 7: Callie
Chapter 8: Shay
Chapter 9: Callie
Chapter 10: Shay
Chapter 11: Callie
Chapter 12: Shay
Chapter 13: Callie
Chapter 14: Shay
Chapter 15: Callie
Chapter 16: Shay
Chapter 17: Callie
Chapter 18: Shay
Chapter 19: Callie
Chapter 20: Shay
Chapter 21: Callie
Chapter 22: Shay
Chapter 23: Callie
Chapter 24: Shay
Chapter 25: Callie
Chapter 26: Shay
Chapter 27: Callie
Chapter 28: Shay
Chapter 29: Callie
Chapter 30: Shay
Chapter 31: Callie
Chapter 32: Shay
Chapter 33: Callie
Chapter 34: Shay
Chapter 35: Callie
Chapter 36: Shay
Chapter 37: Callie
Part 2: The Apple
Chapter 1: Shay
Chapter 2: Callie
Chapter 3: Shay
Chapter 4: Callie
Chapter 5: Shay
Chapter 6: Callie
Chapter 7: Shay
Chapter 8: Callie
Chapter 9: Shay
Chapter 10: Callie
Chapter 11: Shay
Chapter 12: Callie
Chapter 13: Shay
Chapter 14: Callie
Chapter 15: Shay
Chapter 16: Callie
Chapter 17: Shay
Chapter 18: Callie
Chapter 19: Shay
Chapter 20: Callie
Chapter 21: Shay
Chapter 22: Callie
Chapter 23: Shay
Chapter 24: Callie
Chapter 25: Shay
Chapter 26: Callie
Chapter 27: Shay
Chapter 28: Callie
Chapter 29: Shay
Chapter 30: Callie
Chapter 31: Shay
Chapter 32: Callie
Chapter 33: Shay
Chapter 34: Callie
Chapter 35: Shay
Chapter 36: Callie
Chapter 37: Shay
Part 3: The Bite
Chapter 1: Callie
Chapter 2: Shay
Chapter 3: Callie
Chapter 4: Shay
Chapter 5: Callie
Chapter 6: Shay
Chapter 7: Callie
Chapter 8: Shay
Chapter 9: Callie
Chapter 10: Shay
Chapter 11: Callie
Chapter 12: Shay
Chapter 13: Callie
Chapter 14: Shay
Chapter 15: Callie
Chapter 16: Shay
Chapter 17: Callie
Chapter 18: Shay
Chapter 19: Callie
Chapter 20: Shay
Chapter 21: Callie
Chapter 22: Shay
Chapter 23: Callie
Chapter 24: Shay
Chapter 25: Callie
Chapter 26: Shay
Chapter 27: Callie
Chapter 28: Shay
Chapter 29: Callie
Part 4: The Fall
Chapter 1: Shay
Chapter 2: Callie
Chapter 3: Shay
Chapter 4: Callie
Chapter 5: Shay
Chapter 6: Callie
Chapter 7: Shay
Chapter 8: Callie
Chapter 9: Shay
Chapter 10: Callie
Chapter 11: Shay
Chapter 12: Callie
Chapter 13: Shay
Chapter 14: Callie
Chapter 15: Shay
Chapter 16: Callie
Chapter 17: Shay
Chapter 18: Callie
Chapter 19: Shay
Chapter 20: Callie
Chapter 21: Shay
Chapter 22: Callie
Chapter 23: Shay
Chapter 24: Callie
Chapter 25: Shay
Chapter 26: Callie
Chapter 27: Shay
Chapter 28: Callie
Chapter 29: Shay
Chapter 30: Callie
Chapter 31: Shay
Chapter 32: Callie
Chapter 33: Shay
Chapter 34: Callie
Chapter 35: Shay
Acknowledgments
> PROLOGUE
XANDER
DESERTRON, TEXAS
1993
Eroooo…eroooo…eroooo…
Alarms reverberate through my skull, high-pitched and insistent. I scramble out of bed. Disbelief fights reality: how do you think the unthinkable? The fail-safes have failed. This is really happening.
We run.
Henri barks orders; Lena and I rush to comply. My hands are shaking on the controls, fear and adrenaline rushing through my body, but we’ve nearly finished the manual shutdown now. It’ll be all right, we’ll be all—
BANG
Waves of sound knock us off our feet. Intense cold. Shards of metal fly toward us, and worse.
Much, much worse.
It gets out.
It finds us.
There is pain.
PAIN
PAIN
Screams mingle and join to become one—Lena’s, Henri’s, mine. Three sing together in the perfect pitch of agony.
But then my voice fades away. A duet of pain is left behind.
Cells, tissues, and organs are destroyed from the inside out, a chain reaction that rips them apart. A brief moment of lucidity at the end shows what could have been, before Henri and Lena—friends, colleagues, brilliant scientists, both of them—slip away. Lena, my Lena. Dead.
I survive. They’re gone, but their last moments are imprinted inside me, forever.
No one notices how I am changed—the things I’ve lost, the skills I’ve gained. Part pleasure, part curse.
My new senses register waves I liken to sound and color; they come from all things—inanimate, animate, human. Especially human.
Each man, woman, and child has their own unique pattern that emanates from them without their knowledge—more individual than fingerprints, more telling than thoughts or actions. It’s as if I can see their very soul. Their Vox, I call it—a voice they do not know they have.
But I do. And with knowledge comes power.
And I want more; always more.
To know all that can be known.
First came the accident. Then came the plan…
PART 1
THE STRAY
The state of Schrödinger’s cat is not the paradox he thought. If the finite, observable world is left behind—and the infinite accepted—the cat may live and die, both at once.
—Xander, Multiverse Manifesto
CHAPTER 1
SUBJECT 369X
SHETLAND INSTITUTE, SCOTLAND
Time Zero: 32 hours
THEY SAY I’M SICK, and I need to be cured. But I don’t feel sick. Not anymore.
They wear shiny jumpsuits that cover everything, from their shoes to the paper hats that hide their hair, making them look strange and alien—more Doctor Who villains than anything human. They reach hands to me through heavy gloves in the transparent wall, push me into the wheelchair, and do up the straps that hold me in it tight.
They wear masks, as do I, but theirs stop air getting to them from outside, in case whatever it is they are afraid of makes it through the wall, the gloves, and the suit. They can still talk in murmurs behind an internal breathing thing, and they think they can choose for me to hear what they say, or not, by flicking a switch. They shouldn’t bother; I can hear enough. More than I want to.
My mask is different. It stills my tongue. It lets me breathe but stops me from speaking—as if any words I might say are dangerous.
I don’t remember coming to this place, or where I came from.
There are things I know, like my name is Callie, I’m twelve years old, and they are scientists searching for answers that I may be able to give. When things have been very bad, I’ve held on to my name, saying Callie, Callie over and over again inside my head. As if as long as I can remember my name, all the forgotten things don’t matter, at least not so much. As long as I have a name, I am here; I am me. Even if they don’t use it.
And the other thing I know is that today, I’m going to be cured.
My wheelchair is covered in a giant bubble, sealed all around with me inside, and a door is opened. Dr. 6 comes in and pushes my enclosed chair out through the door, while Nurse 11 and Dr. 1 walk alongside.
The others seem awed that Dr. 1 is here. Whenever he speaks—his voice like velvet, like chocolate and cream and Christmas morning all together—they rush to do as he says. He is like me—known only by a number. The others all have names, but in my mind I number them. They call me Subject 369X, so it only seems fair.
I can walk; I’d tell them, if I could speak, but I’m wheeled along a corridor. Nurse 11 seems upset, and turns. She walks back the way we came.
Then we stop. Dr. 1 pushes a button in the wall, and metal doors open. Dr. 6 pushes me in. They follow and the doors close behind us, and then another opens, and another, until finally they push me into a dark room. They turn and go back through the last door. It shuts with a whoosh behind them, leaving me alone in darkness.
Moments later, one wall starts to glow. A little at first, then more, and I can see. I’m in a small square room. No windows. Apart from the glowing wall, it is empty. There is no medicine. There are no doctors, needles, or knives, and I’m glad.
But then the cure starts.
I’d scream if I could make a sound.
Callie, Callie, Callie, Callie…
CHAPTER 2
SHAY
KILLIN, SCOTLAND
Time Zero: 31 hours
I SHRINK DOWN behind the shelves, but it’s too late—they saw me.
I bolt to the left, then stop abruptly. Duncan stands at the end of the aisle. I spin around the other way—again, too late. His two sidekicks, the ones I’d seen over the shelves, are there now. Not good: no one else is in sight.
“Well, well. Look, guys. If it isn’t my Sharona.” Duncan swaggers toward me while the other two start to sing the song, complete with pelvic thrusts. Nice touch. I’d hoped when I moved to Scotland last year that they wouldn’t find out my real name. I’d hoped that if they did, they wouldn’t know the song. I mean, how old is “My Sharona,” anyway? About a million years? But as if I wasn’t weird enough already, someone found out, and someone else played it on the school bus. And that was it for me.
“How about it, baby?” Duncan says, and guffaws.
“Just as soon as you grow one, loser.” I scowl and try to push past him, but it was never going to be that easy, was it?
He grabs my arm and pushes me against a shelf. I face him, make myself smile. Duncan smiles back, surprised, and it makes me angry, so angry that I’m letting him get to me—letting myself be scared of this idiot. I use the fear and the anger to draw my knee up and slam it between his legs, hard.
He drops to the floor in the fetal position and groans.
“Well, my mistake. I guess you have one after all.”
I run for the door, but an old lady with a walker is coming through it just as I get there. I cut to the side to avoid knocking into her and slam into the wall.
The guy behind the cash register by the door glares, and I turn, rubbing my shoulder, and realize I’ve knocked the community bulletin board to the floor. I glance back, but there’s no sign of them; Duncan’s friends must still be helping him up off the floor.
“Sorry, I’m sorry,” I say, and bend to pick it up and lean it against the wall. As I do, a few notices that have come loose flutter to the floor, but I’ve got to get out of here.
That’s when I see her.
That girl.
She’s staring up at me from a paper on the floor.
Long, dark, almost black hair. Blue eyes, unforgettable both from the striking color that doesn’t seem to go with her dark hair and the haunted look that stares at me right from the page—the same way she did that day. Not a trace of a smile.
I hear movement behind me, shove the paper in my pocket, and run for the door. I sprint across the road to where I locked my bike and fiddle frantically with the lock; it clicks off. I get on my bike just as they’re
nearing and pump the pedals as hard as I can. They’re getting close, a hand is reaching out; they’re going to catch me.
Fear makes me pick up speed, just enough. I pull away.
I glance back over my shoulder. His sidekicks have stopped running; they’re wheezing. Duncan follows more slowly behind.
In case they have a car and cut me off, I don’t go straight home. I veer off road to the bike path and then take an unmarked branch for the long, twisty hill through the woods: up, up, and more up.
