Truth or Lie
The man removed his grimy hood, revealing a weathered yet strangely calm face. "I'm Dr. Conroy Delaney," he said, leaning closer to the group. "I didn't start the outbreak, but I'm afraid I was part of it."
Sam clenched his fists. "What do you mean, 'part of it'?"
Dr. Delaney sighed, his light blue eyes darkening with the weight of his memory. "I was part of a research team. We were studying microorganisms in the Arctic. It began three months ago when we found something in an iceberg—a body, humanoid, perfectly preserved."
Liam exchanged a shocked look with Paisley. "A body? As in... human?"
"Not exactly. It was close. We called it 'Alpha', a name denoting its chronological and physical oddity. It seemed like an evolutionary outlier, something between us and the Neanderthals.
"We transported Alpha back to our lab in Silverhurst for further research," Dr. Delaney continued, his voice a thread spinning the past into their present. "We wanted to sequence its DNA, understand its origins. But we underestimated it."
Paisley's eyes narrowed. "Underestimated? How?"
"Alpha's body contained something... a pathogen, one we'd never seen before. We put it through routine tests without realizing the danger." He paused, rubbing his temples in frustration.
"The pathogen. It was preserved within Alpha's body," Dr. Delaney continued, his voice growing darker. "It was a virus, lying dormant for tens of thousands of years in that frozen corpse."
"The Arctic cold had kept the virus in stasis. We thawed Alpha's body for study, and in doing so, we unleashed it."
Liam felt a chill creep up his spine. "So, what you're saying is, you thawed it, and then what? The virus just... woke up?"
"Unfortunately, yes," Delaney admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. "At first, it was slow. A couple of our staff got sick. We thought it was just a cold, maybe a mild infection. But soon, it spread beyond our facility, carried by asymptomatic carriers."
Liam's jaw tightened. "That's how it started spreading?"
Dr. Delaney nodded. "Precisely. We were so focused on unearthing history, we didn't realize it was unearthing us. The virus mutated rapidly, jumping from person to person. We tried containment measures, but it was too late."
Sam's anger simmered just beneath the surface. "So, the lockdowns, the chaos... that was your team's doing?"
"It wasn't intentional," Delaney said, his voice cracking. "Every day, more people got sick. More turned violent. We watched helplessly as the city began to collapse. The government issued lockdowns and curfews, but they weren't enough. Desperation led to lawlessness... and now here we are."
Sam's brow furrowed in confusion. "Why haven't we gotten sick then?" His voice echoed in the dim tent, a spark of fear igniting behind his calm exterior. "We've been exposed for weeks now."
Dr. Delaney leaned back, a sardonic smile flickering on his lips. "Good question. The virus isn't wholly predictable, but we've identified certain markers. Some people have a natural resistance, a genetic quirk that blocks the virus. You're lucky, you might carry those markers."
"Markers?" Liam's voice croaked, his mind racing with the implications. "But what about the others? The ones in the camps?"
Dr. Delaney's smile vanished, replaced by a grim expression. "These 'survival camps'... they're not what they seem."
Paisley's eyebrows knitted together. "What do you mean?"
"They're quarantine zones," he explained, his tone grave. "They are containment facilities masquerading as safe havens. The governments, or what's left of them, set them up to isolate potential carriers, and to closely monitor anyone who might show symptoms."
"That makes no sense," Sam retorted, anger flaring. "Why wouldn't they just tell us? Why keep us in the dark?"
"Panic," Delaney said bluntly. "They didn't want mass hysteria. If people knew they were being quarantined for research rather than protected, they'd revolt. They needed order, or at least the illusion of it."
Liam's fists clenched at his sides. He could feel the ground shifting underneath him, every assumption about the camp crumbling. "What about the testing? The health checks?"
"To identify those who are about to turn," Dr. Delaney replied, his eyes hardening. "They're monitoring everyone, looking for early signs. When someone shows symptoms, they're taken away and they never come back."
Paisley leaned forward, her voice trembling. "What happens to them?"
"They become part of the research teams," Delaney said, not shying away from the truth. "They're trying experimental treatments, anything to find a cure. It's a gamble and hardly a humane one."
Sam gritted his teeth. "So, we're all guinea pigs."
"More or less," Delaney acknowledged. "But knowledge is power. Now you know, you can decide your next move."
Paisley took a sharp breath, her curiosity edging out her fear. "Why did you hide your research notes in the back of the pharmacy? Why keep them there if they're so important?"
Delaney's eyes clouded over as if pondering the weight of her question. "Desperation. Paranoia. I knew they were hunting for anyone with significant knowledge about the virus. These quarantine zones aren't just about containment—they're about control and strategic leverage. Information is currency in this new world."
"So you hid them," Paisley's voice hardened. "You just left them there without any plan?"
"Not exactly," Delaney corrected. "The notes were my insurance policy. I thought someone with a better chance at survival might find them, someone who could use them. When I realized hiding wasn't enough, I tried to go back for them. But by then, it was impossible to do so without drawing attention."
Liam felt a surge of anger. "And you didn't think to share any of this sooner? People are dying out there."
Delaney's head hung low. "I know. Believe me, I know. The weight of every life lost because of our mistake keeps me up at night. But telling the wrong person, revealing this information to the quarantine zone leaders wouldn't end well. They'd bury the truth to maintain their fragile control."
Sam stepped in front of Delaney, making him look up and meet his eyes. "So what now? You've told us all this, spilled your secrets. What do you expect us to do with it?"
Dr. Delaney's eyes met Sam's with a steely resolve. "You have to decide for yourselves, but I wouldn't recommend staying here. The longer you linger, the more power you give them to control you."
Liam shook his head, struggling to piece everything together. "But the captain—Barland—She seems trustworthy. Couldn't we tell her and maybe, just maybe, she can do something?"
"Trustworthy?" Delaney scoffed. "You think she doesn't know the full scope? She's more aware than you realize. The real question is: where do her loyalties lie? Is it with the people or with whoever's still holding the strings?"
Paisley's hand flew to her mouth, stifling a gasp. "So we're on our own."
"Not entirely," Delaney said, glancing around cautiously. "I've met others who are gathering information, aiming to expose the truth. They're looking for a cure, just like you three and the team at Silverhurst University."
Liam leaned forward, voice low and urgent. "Then we find them. We get out of here and find those who are truly working on a solution."
"Easier said than done," Delaney muttered. "First, you'll need a way to leave without alerting suspicion. And second, you must shadow the right routes, and avoid the wrong checkpoints."
Sam's brow furrowed. "You're coming with us."
Delaney's face twisted into a frown before settling into a weary nod. "I figured as much. But if we are to do this, you have to prepare to move fast. Take only what you need and be ready for anything."
The group shared a determined nod and quickly exited Delaney's tent, each wrapped in their thoughts. Silence hung heavy between them, punctuated only by the soft shuffle of their footsteps.
Liam broke the silence once they reached their shared quarters. "We should pack light. Only essentials, stuff we can carry without slowing down."
Sam grabbed his backpack, face set in grim determination. "Food, water, first-aid kit, weapon... anything else?"
Paisley rummaged through her own bag, her mind racing. "Maps. We'll need maps. And if either of you have extra batteries for these walkie-talkies I knicked from Delaney's tent, that might be useful too."
Liam nodded, his hands working quickly to gather their supplies. Minutes passed in tense silence, broken only by the sounds of zippers and the rustle of fabric. Liam's heart pounded in time with his hurried packing. He felt the weight of urgency in every motion.
"Got everything?" Sam asked, tightening the straps on his backpack.
Paisley adjusted the fit of her own pack. "Ready as I'll ever be."
"Let's go," Liam said, leading the way back to Delaney's tent.
The tent flap fluttered in the breeze, casting shifting shadows on the ground. Liam felt his heart pound faster as they neared the spot, a cold knot of dread forming in his stomach. He was the first to pull back the flap, stepping inside with purpose—only to freeze in his tracks.
"Where is he?" Sam's voice cut through the silence, his question hanging heavy in the air.
Liam's eyes darted around the empty tent. Papers that had previously been strewn across the table were gone, medical equipment bags were missing, and the floor lay bare. "He's gone," Liam whispered, disbelief coating his words. "Dr. Delaney's gone, and he's taken everything with him."
Paisley's face twisted in frustration. "He wouldn't just leave without us. He knew we were relying on him."
"Or maybe he decided to save his own skin," Sam growled, pacing back and forth.
Liam picked up a single sheet of crumpled paper lying on the floor, the only trace of Delaney left behind. Liam scanned the brief note scribbled hurriedly:
*To whoever finds this, I'm sorry. Stay safe. Conroy.*
Paisley's eyes widened as she read over Liam's shoulder. "That coward. He just left us to figure this out on our own."
Liam crumpled the note into a fist, his knuckles turning white. "We can't waste any more time. We have to tell Captain Barland now before she hears it from someone else." His voice quivered, but the resolve remained strong.
They sprinted across the camp, urgency bolstering their steps. Liam's mind raced as fast as his feet, trying to anticipate Captain Barland's reaction. They reached her tent, the largest in the camp, its entrance guarded by two stoic soldiers.
Sam didn't hesitate. "We need to speak with Captain Barland. It's urgent."
The guards exchanged wary glances before one of them nodded and stepped inside. Moments later, he returned, allowing them entry.
Captain Barland sat at her desk, a map of the city spread before her, dotted with pins and markers. Her piercing eyes locked onto them as they entered. "What's the meaning of this?"
Liam stepped forward, swallowing his fear. "It's about Dr. Delaney. He's disappeared but before he left, he told us everything about how the outbreak started. He's not just some scavenger; he's a scientist, and he was part of the team that unearthed the virus."
Barland's expression didn't change, but her eyes grew colder. "Dr. Delaney? The man is a lunatic. We've been watching him since he arrived. His mind's a shattered mess."
Sam shook his head furiously. "He was lucid. He explained things—details about the infection, the true purpose of this camp, the real threat we're facing."
Barland stood from her chair, the fabric of her uniform rustling. She leaned on her desk, her voice deadly calm. "You're being manipulated. Delaney's story is a fabrication of his fractured mind. He's dangerous because of the lies he spreads. You mustn't let his madness infect you."
Paisley took a deep breath. "With all due respect, Captain, his story was too detailed to be a fabrication. If there's a chance he's telling the truth, don't we owe it to ourselves to investigate?"
Barland's gaze flicked between them, her expression hard as steel. "And what—abandon this camp? Leave these people defenseless? We have a responsibility here. Delaney wants to sow discord. If we allow ourselves to be divided from within, we're already defeated."
Liam steadied his voice, meeting her eyes. "We're not saying abandon the camp. We're saying there might be a way to find answers, to understand the virus better. If we find the real source, we could find a cure."
Barland exhaled deeply, her features softening slightly but her resolve unyielding. "Look, I understand you're scared. Everyone here is. But we have protocols, order, structure. If we all start chasing shadows, we lose focus, and that's when lives are lost."
"Captain..." Sam started, but Barland's intense stare silenced him.
"You listen to me closely," Barland continued. "Your job right now is to survive, like everyone else here. Don't let paranoia lead you down a path of destruction. This is about pragmatism, not science fiction."
Liam took a deep breath, steeling himself. "Delaney told us this place isn't just a camp. It's a quarantine zone. He claimed the government set these up to control everyone and use us as guinea pigs for research."
Captain Barland's eyes flashed with sudden intensity. The air in the room grew heavier, fraught with the weight of this new revelation. She didn't speak immediately, her silence only reinforcing the tension.
"You have to understand," Liam continued, every word precise, laid with care like stepping stones across a rushing river. "If what he says is true, then everything changes. We need transparency. We need to know exactly what threats we're facing and how to deal with them."
Barland's features hardened, her jaw tightening. "And you believe this? That we're some sort of holding pen, waiting for people to show symptoms before gathering research on them? You have no idea what kind of chaos spreading this sort of nonsense could cause."
"We're not looking to cause chaos," Sam interjected, his voice steady despite the fire in his eyes. "We just want to know the truth. We deserve that much."
"Deserve?" Barland stepped around her desk, her eyes boring into Sam's. "What anyone 'deserves' right now is irrelevant. The only priority here is to keep everyone alive. And sometimes, that means not sharing every grim detail that could lead to mass hysteria."
Paisley stepped forward. "Captain, we're not just kids looking for a thrill. We're survivors, like everyone else here. But we can't survive without understanding the full picture. If you keep us in the dark, we're fighting blind."
Barland looked at each of them, a storm brewing in her eyes. Her silence stretched on, the moments dragging like taut string ready to snap. Finally, she spoke, her voice a low murmur. "Fine. You want the truth?"
They nodded in unison, bracing for whatever came next.
She straightened, her eyes hardening as she took a deep breath. "Mr. Delaney is a madman. He's not a scientist and he wasn't part of any research team; that's a fabrication from a broken mind. He wandered into this camp two weeks ago, half-starved and rambling. We took him in, and tried to help him. But his paranoia and delusions have only grown worse."
Liam's fists clenched. "You can't expect us to just take your word over his. He had documents, detailed notes about the virus."
Captain Barland shook her head, a mix of frustration and pity in her eyes. "You've been duped by a madman, kids. Half of those documents are gibberish, the ravings of a mind cracked under pressure. He's using you."
Sam stepped forward, defiance blazing in his eyes. "So you're saying all his warnings, all his information about the government's plans, it's all nonsense?"
Barland's expression didn't change. "You think this camp is a quarantine zone? A containment facility? It's a safe haven, as best as we can make it. We're trying to keep order, to protect everyone from the chaos outside. Delaney's stories are designed to sow mistrust and fear."
Liam felt a pang of doubt gnawing at him, but he pressed on. "So, you're saying every protocol, every measure, it's all for our safety? There's no ulterior motive?"
Barland's voice softened slightly, but her eyes remained firm. "You have no idea how hard it is to maintain order in the middle of chaos. We make hard choices every day. And yes, every single protocol is designed to keep as many people alive as possible. Delaney's lies will only lead you down a dangerous path."
Sam looked utterly unconvinced. "And what about the notes? The detailed reports he had on the virus, the symptoms, the strain it puts on the human body. How could he fabricate all that?"
Barland sighed, shaking her head. "Desperation breeds ingenuity. Madmen can be very convincing when they think they're prophets. He wants to be significant, to matter in this new world, and he's using fear to gain followers. Don't let him pull you into his fantasy."
Paisley's voice wavered, a mix of frustration and doubt. "We just want the truth. We thought we found it with Delaney. If what you're saying is true, then… what do we do now?"
Barland's gaze softened for a moment, a rare glimpse of empathy in her hardened exterior. "You survive. You trust the people keeping you safe. You help maintain order so we can all get through this. I understand you're scared, and maybe you feel you need a mission, something to fight for. But the fight is right here, every day."
Liam felt a wave of exhaustion wash over him, the weight of their predicament made his head hurt. "So what now? We just forget everything Delaney said, go back to scavenging and waiting for the next assignment?"
"Yes." Barland's voice had an edge of finality. "Delaney is gone; he chose his path, and it led him away from safety. You stay here, and you do your part. That's how we get through this."
Sam looked ready to argue, but Liam placed a hand on his shoulder. "Fine. We'll stay, for now. But if we see anything that makes us doubt you, we're gone. Regardless of what you say."
Barland nodded, satisfied with the agreement. "Fair enough. Report back if you see anything suspicious, but leave the conspiracies to the fiction writers."
As they left her tent, the weight of Barland's words clung to them like a shadow. Liam couldn't shake the feeling that they were missing something crucial, something that Delaney's mad stories only hinted at.
But for now, they had to play by the rules, bide their time, and keep their eyes open. Trust was in short supply, and the only certainty was that nothing was certain.