Blood Money by Brian Springer

chair, his eyes
dancing. “Well, now you have to tell me.”
    Kelton looked at Jessica.
    “What do you think?” he said.
    “You tell me,” she said.
    “It’s entirely up to you.”
    Jessica shrugged, then shifted her head in
the old man’s direction and said, “I created an AIDS vaccine.”
    Earl’s brows shot up. “No shit. Really?”
    Jessica nodded.
    “Everything I’ve seen said we were at least
five years away from anything like that, if it was even possible at
all,” Earl said.
    “It sounds like you’ve read up on the
subject.”
    “I’ve done a little research.”
    “Earl’s an information hound,” Kelton said.
“He cruises the internet all day long, researching whatever he can
get his hands on. He’s especially keen on conspiracy theories.”
    “Seriously? You don’t seem the type.”
    “There’s not much else for me to do these
days,” Earl said. “But calling me a conspiracy theorist is a bit
misleading. I’m really just a seeker of truth. I find the loonies
spouting off regarding crap they don’t have the slightest clue
about and tell them the truth, regardless of what side of the fence
they fall on.”
    “That’s pretty cool.”
    “It keeps me busy,” Earl said. “But enough
about me. I’m just a boring old man. I want to hear more about your
vaccine.”
    “Well,” Jessica said. “What I created isn’t
a true vaccine, like the one for Polio, or Smallpox. It’s what we
call a treatment vaccine. It’s designed for people that have
already been diagnosed with HIV. Without getting too technical, it
emboldens the affected cells, allowing them to maintain their
integrity and keep the CD4+ T cell count from decreasing,
permanently preventing HIV from becoming full-blown AIDS.”
    “I thought there were already drugs that did
that,” Earl said.
    “There are,” Jessica said. “But they’re all
drug cocktails, consisting of two doses a day, every day, and they
costs upwards of fifteen thousand dollars a month. The most common
drugs used to treat it weren’t even created specifically for AIDS,
but for cancer, which means they aren’t uniformly effective, and
there are nasty side effects. Plus, they don’t actually prevent HIV
from becoming AIDS, they simply prolong the process. What I created
is a one-time injection, specifically tailored for the AIDS virus,
and it’s permanent. Most importantly, it’s easy to produce, super
cheap, and has no real side effects. Plus it works across the
board, all blood types, no matter what your heritage or
background.”
    “So why are you running?”
    “Because my handlers in the
government-funded group I worked for told me it didn’t work.”
    “But it does,” Earl said. It wasn’t a
question.
    Jessica nodded.
    “And when you tried to get it out in the
open, they panicked and tried to keep it in the dark.”
    “Right again,” Jessica said. “It sounds like
you’ve been down this road before.”
    “A time or two, perhaps.”
    “I’ll bet you have.”
    “Well, thanks for satisfying an old man’s
curiosity,” Earl said. He turned his attention back to Kelton. “I
assume you came for your stuff?”
    Kelton nodded.
    “What about a place to crash for the
night?”
    “I think we’re going to stay on the road for
another couple of hours.”
    “Are you sure?” Earl said. “I’ve got plenty
of room.”
    “I appreciate the offer,” Kelton said. “But
I want to put as much space as possible between us and San Diego
before calling it a night.”
    “I understand.”
    Kelton stifled a yawn, started to stand.
“Now, if you don’t mind, we really ought to get going.”
    “What?” Earl said. “You’re not going to stay
for a bit, catch up on old times?” He looked at Jessica, gave her a
wink. “I’m sure your friend here would love to hear some old war
stories.”
    “Would I ever,” Jessica said.
    Kelton knew there was no stopping Earl once
he started talking; it was pointless to even try. His only hope was
to get