Cryonic by Travis Bradberry

Gunfire rattled from multiple directions.
    â€œWhat’s our next move, Al? Wait for the Chinese to come and clean up this mess?”
    â€œYes, they’ll send in reinforcements and have this area quarantined by morning.”
    â€œI wouldn’t be so sure of that,” Celeste said.

16.
    We went to sleep that night with a false sense of calm. The streets below us were quiet, and Carson slept soundly in his room.
    A light moan from behind Carson’s door snapped me out of my slumber on the living room couch. I’d heard that moan before. Like a student who realizes he forgot he had an exam, I was on my feet and freaking out that we’d failed to connect the dots.
    I ran over to Celeste’s room and yanked the door open, nearly hitting Alex, who was sleeping on the floor.
    â€œAlex, Alex, wake up!” I yelled, shaking him. “It’s Carson. He’s got the disease.”
    â€œHe doesn’t have a disease,” Alex said, pulling the covers over his head.
    â€œWake up, you idiot! He was bit by Dr. Feng. Dr. Feng bit him! That means he has the cryonic disease. We have to do something.”
    Alex pulled the covers down, and looked at me wide-eyed. He leapt up, and we stormed into Carson’s room. He was covered in sweat, writhing and moaning in his sleep.
    â€œWhat if it’s just a fever?” Alex asked. “It might not mean anything.”
    â€œAlex, you didn’t have to sleep in the same room as those freaks. I know what’s going on here.”
    â€œWhat’s wrong with Carson?” Celeste asked, stepping into the room. She wore a long silk nightgown that hugged her frame at her chest and hips. I tried not to look. Her figure made it hard to concentrate.
    â€œNothing . . . he’ll be fine. It’s just a fever,” Alex said with a smile.
    â€œCome on, guy! You know better than that. Celeste, he has the disease just like those people down on the street, and pretty soon we’re going to have a homicidal maniac on our hands.”
    â€œWhat do we do?” she asked. “How can we stop it?”
    â€œWe can’t,” I explained, “unless we stop him .”
    â€œYou mean kill him?”
    â€œNobody is going to kill your roommate,” Alex said. “We don’t know for sure that he has it. It’s just a fever.”
    Carson groaned and looked around the room. Alex walked over to the bed.
    â€œYou all right, buddy?” Alex asked, stroking Carson’s hair off his forehead.
    Carson didn’t respond. He looked right through Alex, then threw his head back against the bed, and stopped breathing. I ran over.
    â€œAlex, he is not breathing,” I said. “You know what’s next.”
    â€œWhat’s next?” Celeste asked.
    â€œI’ll tell you what’s next.” I ran out of the room and retrieved the machine gun. “We put an end to this before he hurts somebody.”
    â€œYou can’t just shoot him!” Alex shrieked.
    I looked over at Celeste, who looked at me and shrugged. I put the gun down, ran into the living room again, and retrieved a wooden baseball bat from a wall display.
    â€œFine, I’ll just hit him with this.”
    â€œNo, not that,” Celeste insisted. “Geronimo Pacheco hit a game-winning home run with that bat.”
    â€œGeronimo who?” I asked.
    â€œPacheco. You must not be a baseball fan.”
    â€œYou won’t find a bigger baseball fan,” I huffed.
    â€œHe was after your time,” Alex intervened.
    â€œWhat do you mean after his time?” Celeste asked. “That homer couldn’t have been more than fifteen years ago.”
    I looked at Alex incredulously. “You didn’t tell her about me?”
    â€œTell me what? ” Celeste asked.
    Our ridiculous bickering had shifted our attention away from Carson who was now out of the bed and heading for Alex.
    â€œAlex, look out!” I yelled.
    Carson