Free Riposte (The Redivivus Trilogy Book 2) by Kirk Withrow

she had regarding the pathogen with the cold, objective detachment of a computer analyzing data, trying to cull the plague down to its fundamentals. Even the facts, she acknowledged, were a far cry from facts as she was accustomed to them. Being unable to verify much of what she knew left her feeling as though she were accepting a great deal of information on faith alone. As a lifelong scientist, that was not something she was overly comfortable doing. She found this prospect even more disconcerting when she considered that those she had placed her faith in were the very monsters responsible for the creation of the vile pathogen in the first place. What else can I do? I really don’t have any other choice. Even if I had the facilities and equipment to verify their experiments, there is no time for such things. In the end, she felt as though she repeatedly came up against a brick wall, her analytical mind flashing an ominous error message at the conclusion of every stream of thought.
    DOES NOT COMPUTE. DOES NOT COMPUTE. DOES NOT COMPUTE.
    Frustrated, she gazed out the window at the carnage besetting the world around her. No longer could she find even a trace of the fleeting sense of normalcy she felt moments ago. She tried to clear her mind of the science of the situation, instead looking at things from the perspective of an active observer who had lived through the nightmare enveloping the world. While that approach left no unproven facts to torment her, she found more than enough other things to cover that job.
    The rate of infection following inoculation with blood or saliva appeared to be nearly 100%, but the mortality rate—if that metric even applied—was another matter all together. That is, it was unclear if those who were infected actually died in the traditional sense or if they were severely weakened after being hijacked by the invading pathogen. Dr. Johnson’s notes indicated they detected persistent, extremely low-level vital signs in Lazarus after the animal had been pronounced dead. I suppose there is precious little difference. Alive or dead—they certainly aren’t living as we’ve come to accept it. This was at the heart of her biggest question: What exactly did LNV do to its victims if not kill them, and by what means did it accomplish this?
    Anatomically, the infected looked grossly human, but the similarities vanished soon after that. Nothing else about the monsters now inhabiting the world resembled anything she had come to know and accept about humans and life. From a physiological standpoint, she had no idea what systems remained functional, and which were no longer necessary for their survival.
    Lin knew she would have little chance of finding any useful treatment until she gained a better understanding of LNV’s pathophysiology. If indeed the bodies of the infected were somehow shanghaied and kept alive by the virus, how long could that last? Surely the vile process behind such an egregious hijacking was not so sophisticated that it could sustain a complex system like the human body for an extended period of time. At this point, the virus simply had not been around long enough to adequately answer that question. Every question that entered Lin’s mind led to more questions instead of answers.
    How were the infected able to survive the degree of injury and mutilation she had witnessed, and still remain an ambulatory threat? A great number of them endured multiple traumatic insults that should have quickly led to human death, yet they appeared largely unfazed in most cases. It seemed that only severe damage to the central nervous system could cause their true demise. Short of that, any other injury merely maimed the infernal things—slowing them down at best, or doing precious little at worst. Lin thought that she might be able to learn more about which body systems, if any, were necessary for their survival by more careful observation of the effects of various injuries.
    What allowed them to