Chapter Seven

Jim woke with a start, certain that he had overslept.

“Easy,” Dan cautioned. “Everything’s fine.”

Jim yawned and stretched. The fact that he was feeling so alert told him that he’d slept longer than he’d intended.

“No worries, man. You slept through one extra dorm check. Trixie would have woken you if we needed help.”

Jim nodded. “Where is she now?” he asked, noticing that they were alone in the hallway.

“She was worried about one of the girls so she went to do an extra check. I guess she was talking in her sleep.”

Jim nodded again. As much as Trixie dreaded finding the right words to say to comfort someone, he knew that she would never leave a hurting student alone, whether the pain was physical or emotional.

“Sorry about my crack earlier,” Dan continued.

Jim looked at him, a blank expression on his face.

“The lab rat comment,” Dan clarified. “I didn’t mean it to sound insensitive.”

Jim nodded shortly, and then narrowed his eyes as he remembered the voices he had heard in the wind. “Did Trixie…” he asked, dreading the answer.

For the first time since he had met him, Jim saw Dan look uncomfortable. “Yes. I hope you don’t mind.”

Jim shrugged. “It’s not as if it’s a secret,” he said slowly. But it was still painful to talk about. And painful for others to know.

“I’m pretty sure she was trying to help,” Dan offered.

“She always is,” Jim acknowledged. And it was true. Trixie was always trying to help him. Usually while he protested, kicking and screaming. Still, he had to admit, she usually knew exactly what he needed. For someone who claimed to be useless talking about feelings, she’d sure gotten him to open up over the years. It was one of the reasons he loved her so much. Any further rumination was interrupted when Trixie burst into the hall, skidding on the highly polished floor.

“Get Brian!” she gasped. “And check the boys! The girls are showing symptoms.”

She and Dan threw open door after door along the corridor, checking on the occupants, while Jim flipped open his communicator.

“I don’t know!” he protested as Brian rattled off questions. “Trixie was doing an extra check in between the regularly scheduled thirty minute ones. They were fine fifteen minutes ago!” He glanced up as Dan approached him, making signs that the boys, too, were exhibiting symptoms. He handed Dan the communication device, knowing that he could give Brian more specific information.

“Fever, sore throat, and headache,” Dan reported, his voice terse. “We did a check at 1 am and everyone was fine. First symptoms observed at 1:15 am.” There was a pause. “All of them.”

Jim watched as Dan flipped the communicator shut and handed it back to him.

“Brian’s on his way,” Dan reported.

Jim frowned. “Why aren’t we taking the kids to the infirmary? Surely—”

“Jim,” Trixie interrupted, her blue eyes wide with distress, “didn’t you understand? There isn’t room in the infirmary. All of the students are sick.”

“All of them?” Jim felt himself sway slightly on his feet, but he quickly recovered. “All of them? How could that happen? Even when there’s an epidemic, not everyone is affected. All of them?” he repeated, feeling like a broken record.

“They’ll be fine,” Trixie said, her voice fierce. “They have to be.”

Seconds later, Brian, followed by Win Frayne, burst into the hallway. Brian’s dark eyes were ringed with purple smudges, and his usually tidy hair was dishevelled and mussed. A stethoscope around his neck swung back and forth as he hurried to the first door in the hall. The others crowded outside as Brian carefully checked the occupants of the room. With gentle hands, Brian took temperatures, checked throats, and listened to breath sounds. When he had checked both wings housing students, he motioned for the others to follow him. When they were seated in the deserted student lounge between the two wings, he sat down on a couch and rubbed his temples.

“They all have the same symptoms,” he told the other adults. “All with the same degree of severity.”

Jim frowned. “That’s not natural, is it?” he asked. “Don’t some people react differently than others, even if they have the same sickness?”

Brian nodded and leaned forward, propping his chin on his hand. “It’s highly unusual. In fact, I’ve never heard of another case where so many people were taken sick, all at the same time, and all with the same severity of symptoms.”

“They didn’t all become sick at once,” Trixie pointed out. “There was the first wave while Luke was being interrogated, a lone student during the night, and then…” She stopped, too horrified by the thought of every student in the facility being sick to say it aloud.

“But no staff members,” Dan pointed out.

“That’s true,” Win said, giving Dan an appraising look. “That’s true. Any idea on why that would be, Brian?”

The Healer shook his head. “We all know that I’m not going to be affected, but I don’t understand why none of the rest of you is. In fact, I’ve been waiting for Honey and Diana to exhibit symptoms, since they’ve been working in the infirmary, but they both seem fine.” To prove his point, he checked the device he carried at all times that monitored the physical state of the staff at the academy.

“What do you mean? Why won’t you be affected?” Dan asked, picking up on Brian's first statement.

“I don’t get sick,” Brian said simply.

Dan looked at him suspiciously. “Never?”

He shook his head. “Never. It’s why I became a doctor. I want everyone to experience the same degree of health that I have.”

Dan thought about that for a moment before the ghost of a sly smirk spread across his face. “So I guess you can’t really get away with calling in sick, can you?” he asked.

Winthrop Frayne laughed. “No, he can’t. But, back to the issue at hand…”

Brian’s shoulders slumped. “I don’t know what to do. I’d call in the regional health authorities, but they don’t have any experience treating mutants. They wouldn’t be any help, and they’d just prevent us from making decisions.”

To Jim’s surprise, Winthrop nodded. The elder Dr. Frayne was famous for his willingness to work with non-mutant organizations and persons in authority, but he seemed more than content to leave them out of the loop in this case. “You’re right, Brian,” Win said. “We’ll deal with this situation ourselves for now. How long until the results from the blood tests come back?”

Brian checked his watch. “Three hours. I hope that the results give us a starting point, at least. I just can’t figure out these symptoms. They’re typical flu symptoms, yet they way they manifested themselves to so many people at the same time, with the same degree of severity…” He shook his head. “It just doesn’t make sense. I’ve never seen a flu work this way before.”

Jim turned worried eyes to his father. “Do you think Medico…”

Winthrop sighed heavily, and Jim winced, knowing that his father was once again holding the weight of the world on his shoulders. “I think biological warfare is something that would appeal to Medico. Attacking the students at our school seems out of character, but it’s not out of the realm of possibility. I get the distinct impression that there is more to the situation than I’m seeing.”

“Luke.” Trixie interrupted the professor breathlessly. “He’d know! Wouldn’t he?”

Brian made a face. “He’s running a fever and sedated. You’re not getting any information out of him right now.”

“I know.” Trixie pressed on, undaunted. “But what about in the morning? Couldn’t we,” she paused, “encourage him to talk to us some more? Professor?”

“I’m not going to search his mind without permission,” Win said curtly. “You know that, Trixie.”

The pert blonde scowled, her nose scrunching in what Jim considered an adorable manner. “I know that. I just thought maybe you could persuade him.”

Win raised an eyebrow. “Exactly how would I persuade him, Trixie?” he asked.

Trixie flushed. “I don’t know. I just know that whenever you talk to me, I end up telling you everything you want to know.” She bit her lip, and Jim had to wonder what she had told his father that she felt uncomfortable about.

“But I didn’t force you,” Win said gently. “Did I?”

“No!” Trixie exclaimed. “I know you would never—I didn’t mean to imply…” She sighed. “I just thought that since you weren’t forcing me, maybe you wouldn’t be forcing Luke, and he would tell us what Medico is up to.”

Win shook his head. “The only reason you told me anything is because you trust me. Luke has no reason to trust me. In fact, based on his life experience, he has very good reason to not trust any mutant.”

Dan winced. “I didn’t mean to betray him.”

“And you didn’t,” Win assured him quickly. “But that’s not how he sees it.”

“Leaving behind a dishonest life is not betraying anyone,” Trixie said fiercely, pinning Dan with a look.

He nodded. “If you think it would help, I could talk to Luke.”

Win shook his head. “That would only make matters worse.” He frowned, as if concentrating intently.

“What is it?” Jim asked eagerly. Though Win had chosen to never read a person’s mind without their permission, he could often pick up on strong emotion when the person didn’t care who knew how he felt.

“He wants to talk to Trixie,” Win said, surprise evident.

Trixie blinked. “Really? Okay! I can do that.” She nodded decisively. “I’ll go see what he’s thinking—”

“You’ll wait until morning,” Brian said firmly. When his sister protested, he merely shook his head. “He’s been drugged. You’re tired. We’ll wait until tomorrow morning, after I’ve had a chance to analyze the blood tests.” He looked to Winthrop for approval, and found it.

“In that case,” Trixie paused, her mouth split open by a huge yawn, “I’m going to go catch some shut-eye.” She stretched out on the couch in the student lounge. “Wake me when it’s time for me to patrol the girls’ wing.”

Brian shook his head. “You sleep. I’ll check on them.”

Half-asleep, Trixie merely nodded. Jim shook his head as she appeared to fall asleep on command. He retrieved a neatly folded afghan from a cupboard and tucked it around her, sweeping the hair away from her eyes.

“We’ll sleep in shifts,” Win decided. “I’d like to keep us all on hand, but we’re going to need to be well-rested for whatever happens tomorrow. Jim, I’m putting Dan in your room on the spare bed. Mart’s been doing research for Brian and running the blood tests. Dan will relieve him in two hours. Honey and Diana are taking turns sleeping in the infirmary.”

The night passed slowly. Rejuvenated by his nap, Jim managed to stay alert as he helped look after the ill students. The school was shrouded in an uncomfortable silence. The students were too miserable to laugh and joke, and the adults were too worried to do anything but try to make the situation better.

“It hurts,” Mateo whispered as Jim bathed the young student’s forehead with a cool cloth.

Jim winced. Tylenol and Advil had both been proven ineffective in treating whatever was infecting the students. Fever and pain were taking a toll, and many of the students were beyond miserable.

“We’ll figure it out, Mateo,” Jim promised the eight-year-old. “We’re doing our best to figure out what’s wrong and how to treat it.”

Mateo nodded, but he was already closing his eyes against the pain, and Jim wondered if they would be in time to save the students. The symptoms were worsening gradually, and Brian was starting to worry that they wouldn’t be able to come up with a remedy soon enough.

By the time Brian appeared in the doorway of the sick room, Mateo had been asleep for twenty minutes, and Jim was attempting to disengage his hand from the young boy’s.

“The results are in,” Brian said softly so as not to wake Mateo. “We’re meeting in the lounge.”

Jim stood immediately and followed his best friend down the hall way and into the small sitting area. Honey, Mart, Diana, Trixie, Dan, and even Bobby were already gathered, taking up the meagre available seating. Jim ground his teeth when he noted that Dan was seated beside Trixie on the crowded couch, his arm resting casually on the back rest behind her. Since Trixie was perched on the edge of her seat, Dan wasn’t actually touching her, but the seating arrangement still bothered him more than he cared to admit.

“It’s not good,” Brian began, pulling Jim’s attention away from boring a hole in the back of Dan’s head. “The tests confirmed what we had already observed. All of the students are infected with the exact same strain. It hasn’t been chemically or genetically engineered, though, as I had suspected. It appears to be a common, garden variety virus.”

“That’s good news, isn’t it?” Honey asked. “We were worried about biological warfare, weren’t we?”

Brian’s lips tightened to a thin line. “Unfortunately, this doesn’t rule out malicious targeting of victims. In fact, I’m almost convinced that that’s exactly what’s happened here.”

“But you said—” Trixie interrupted.

“Hear me out,” Brian continued. “It’s a common virus. The time frame for onset of symptoms, however, is not consistent with the typical time frame. It shouldn’t spread this quickly. And it should definitely respond to antipyretics. There’s something else involved here,” he concluded, “and it’s not something that can be measured with standard medical tests. If I had to guess, I would say that the students' bodies are being manipulated by an outside force. They’ve been infected with the virus, and their bodies are being manipulated so that we are unable to treat them.”

Jim felt a frisson of horror as he remembered the lab in which his mother had been held, and the horrible things that had been done to her body. Though he’d done his best to push the images of her wasted, sickly form to the furthest recess of his mind, they came flooding back. This was what had happened to her. Medico had deliberately injected her with a carcinogen and then attempted to treat her. Attempted and failed. And now the students at the academy had been infected with a common virus that didn’t respond to treatment.

His vision blurred as rage washed over him. For the first time, he found himself wishing that he had Trixie’s power of flame. Because if he did, Medico’s lab would be nothing but a smouldering pile of ashes. As for Medico himself... he’d never considered himself a particularly violent person, but as his temper flared, he realized that the idea of doing harm, permanent harm, to the man who had altered his life so much, held strong appeal. After all, it would be justice. Medico had destroyed countless lives. How could it possibly be wrong to put a permanent end to his?

“Jim. Jim!”

He heard the voice, but it was fuzzy and indistinct.

“Son. Stay with me.”

He recognized his father’s voice and reluctantly forced himself to put aside his violent fantasies. Control. He was all about control. Though for the life of him, he couldn’t think of one good reason why. What good had controlling himself ever done? It hadn’t saved his mother, or helped him deal with his fear of losing Trixie. He squeezed his eyes shut, still fighting. Losing control would be bad, but it was getting harder and harder to remember why.

“Jim! It’s going to be okay, but I need you to calm down.”

He recognized Trixie’s voice, even though his vision still wasn’t working properly. Her tone wasn’t cajoling or pacifying—there was no coddling. That wasn’t Trixie’s style. It was the “I need” that got to him, though. Trixie needing him was probably the only reason that could ever be strong enough for him to deal with all of his emotional pit falls.

He blinked and tried to focus on her voice, but felt a surge of panic when he realized that he still wasn’t seeing properly. Instead of the lounge in the medical wing of the school, he was staring at a room filled with lab equipment, computers, and people in white lab coats. They were monitoring the computers with a rapt attention that reminded Jim of footage he had seen of the NASA control room during shuttle take offs and landings.

A familiar figure stepped into view, and Jim took an involuntary step backward.

“All subjects are reporting as predicted, Sir,” a young woman said, handing the man a clip board.

And then Medico looked directly at Jim, and his vision faded again.