Resurrection

by Mark Kelly

  Leduc’s chair scraped against the floor as he pushed away from the table. He started to stand, his nostrils flaring in anger.

  “I’ve had it with you and your—”

  “Okay, everyone relax.” Simmons held up his hands to calm the two men. He turned to the general. “We’re almost finished. We’ve come too far to quit now. A few more minutes, all right?”

  Leduc glared at him and then noisily sat back down. He crossed his arms over his chest and huffed, “One more threat and I’m done.”

  Relieved, Simmons turned to Petit Henri. “I think we can agree it is in all of our interests to get this done without resorting to threats, right?”

  The biker leader shrugged, then gave Simmons an imperceptible nod.

  “Good. Now, how about I recap what we’ve agree to so far and then we’ll circle back to the markup. First, starting in the spring after the roads are passable again, the general will deliver two thousands pills every month to you in Montreal. In return, you will pay him in fuel—either gasoline or diesel—at the rate of one barrel of fuel for every fifty pills. Correct?”

  Both men nodded.

  “Next, street-level, or any distribution of the pills by individuals won’t be tolerated. All sales must be carried out in a permanent location and only when General Leduc’s soldiers are present.”

  This had been the first major point of contention. Simmons held his breath, waiting for both men to signal their agreement.

  Petit Henri threw his hands up in the air, making an overly dramatic show of his dislike for the condition.

  “Mon dieu! It will be like having my mother hanging over me watching every move I make…but yes, I agree.”

  Of course you do, Simmons thought, biting his tongue. Petit Henri wouldn’t be able to bribe all of Leduc’s men, but as long as he could bribe some of them, he would have freedom to operate outside the terms of the agreement on occasion. It was a necessary evil, but still a damn sight better than having no oversight at all.

  Simmons continued. “The agreement will be non-exclusive and will remain in force for two years.” Both men stiffened and he braced himself for the objections that were sure to come.

  Petit Henri leaned forward, resting his massive arms on the table. He ignored Simmons and looked directly at Leduc.

  “I will accept the two-year term, and the need for non-exclusivity, but you must commit to not doing business with any of my competition, and regardless of who you do business with, my price must always be the lowest.”

  Leduc hesitated, then nodded. Simmons heaved a sigh of relief. Now, to the last and most contentious point—the mark-up. He opened his mouth to speak at the exact moment the general’s aide-de-camp, Cox, poked his head into the room.

  A worried look on his face, Cox walked over and whispered something into the general’s ear about an extratropical radar signature.

  “What’s going on, General?” Petit Henri asked. “What are your friends in the air force telling you about the weather?”

  Simmons wasn’t sure if he was more surprised there was still an air force in Canada, or that Petit Henri knew Cox was talking about the weather. Dumbfounded, he looked at the general and said the first thing that came into his mind.

  “You have an air force?”

  “Not much of one,” Leduc replied, a pained expression on his face. “The planes are grounded because of lack of fuel, but there’s a base one day’s drive north-west of here with a skeleton crew; mostly radar and satellite technicians holed up in an underground bunker.”

  “General, I asked you what was going on,” Petit Henri said. “What have they told you about the weather?”

  For a moment, Leduc looked like he wasn’t going to answer the question. Then he frowned and said, “They’re reporting an immense low-pressure system off the eastern seaboard. Something the weather geeks are calling an extratropical cyclone. It’s been dumping rain on Massachusetts and Vermont. Now, it’s picking up speed and heading our way.”

  “When?”

  “When what?”

  “When will it reach us?”

  “They estimate we’ll start to see rain later this afternoon.”

  Simmons could see the wheels turning in Petit Henri’s head as he processed the information. The biker leader abruptly pushed his chair back and stood. “Are you a man of your word, General?”

  Taken aback by the sudden change of topic and blunt question, Leduc looked up from the table and blustered, “Of course!”

  “C’est bon…I am as well. You may not believe me, but I am willing to help you distribute the pills. One way or another, we are all in this together. We will revisit the mark-up in the spring after you deliver the first shipment to me in Montreal. I expect to be paid, but you have my word that I will be reasonable. Is that agreeable?”

  Leduc hesitated, and then when Petit Henri offered his hand, he stood and shook it.

  “I accept.”

  And just like that, the deal was done. After nearly two hours of arguing, it didn’t make any sense.

  Petit Henri strode to the door, covering the distance in just a few quick steps. Then he stopped and addressed them with a seriousness Simmons hadn’t heard before.

  “You would do well to listen to me. My father was un météorologue—a weatherman for a small television station in Trois Pistoles. Weather was his passion and I grew up listening to him go on and on about it. Did you feel the cold wind blowing from the north this morning?”

  Leduc nodded.

  “That is from an arctic cold front. When the two systems collide, they will create a storm like nothing you have ever seen before—and it won’t be rain. It will be snow, immense quantities of it.”

  “I was just a child the last time it occurred, but I remember my father talking about it in awe. It took weeks, almost a month to recover from that storm and it will be many times worse this time.”

  He looked at Simmons and said, “My men will deliver the doctor back to you. She will be at the gate in thirty minutes. You are very lucky to have her. Au revoir.” He nodded goodbye, opened the door, and left.

  Dumbfounded, Leduc stared at Simmons. “What the hell just happened? Was I pranked by a motorcycle-riding weatherman?”

  Simmons stared back, slack-jawed. “I have no idea.”

  “Sir, should I radio the gate and tell them to stop him?” Cox asked.

  Leduc stared at the open office door and scratched his head. “No, tell them to let him through…and to keep a watch out for Dr. Ling.”

  He paused and then added, “And call everyone back to the base. It can’t hurt to be cautious.”

  34

  Where’s Saanvi

  Twenty-five minutes after Petit Henri’s abrupt departure, Cox stuck his head back into the office. “Sir, I received word that Dr. Ling is at the front gate. I’ve sent a vehicle to pick her up. Where do you want—”

  “Have them bring her here,” Simmons said, already half out of his chair and running towards the door. Aside from desperately wanting to see her, he had a million questions about the spore pills and the girl they had supposedly cured.

  He dashed out of Leduc’s office and down the hallway to the administration building’s main entrance. The sky had turned gray and a light dusting of snow covered the ground. Taking care not to slip on the slick concrete, he took the stairs two at a time and reached the curb as Mei’s jeep pulled up.

  She opened the rear door and stepped out on her own. Other than the bags under her eyes, she appeared to be in good health. Relieved, he gave her a welcoming smile and stretched out his arms as she stepped into them. They hugged in silence until his curiosity got the better of him.

  “Did the pills really work?”

  “What? No hello, how are you?”

  “Sorry, that was awful of me.”

  She threw back her head and laughed. “I’m teasing you, Tony. Don’t worry about it. I’m fine, thank you for asking, but you really do have a one-track mind.”

  S
he brushed the hair back from her face and smiled again to gently rub it in. Then she left him hanging for a few seconds before answering his question.

  “Tony, It was incredible, absolutely incredible,” she said breathlessly. “The pills worked better than you could ever imagine. The patient started showing signs of recovery about five hours after I administered the first dose.”

  Elated by the news, Simmons felt like he was floating. He grinned like an idiot as his brain spun a mile a minute with unanswered questions.

  “You’re back!”

  They both turned as Emma ran down the road towards them, yelling out questions. “Mei, what happened while you were with the bikers? Who was the girl? Was she someone important? Was she the biker leader’s girlfriend? Inquiring minds need to know—and don’t spare any of the gory details.”

  Simmons groaned. All he wanted was a few minutes alone with Mei.

  “Come on, tell me,” Emma implored. “Spill the beans. What was it like? Did they hurt you?”

  Mei shook her head. “No one hurt me. Quite the opposite, actually. They were very respectful, but once I started treating Abbie, they kept me isolated in the back of a truck to avoid spreading the infection. My only contact was through a walkie-talkie with a man named Sébastien, who said he was their vice-president.”

  “Is Abbie the girl who was sick?” Emma asked. Then she gave Mei a puzzled look. “Hey, wait a minute—they have a vice-president? Do you mean just like we used to have? What about a president? Do they have one of those as well? Is that who the big man on the funny-looking motorcycle was?”

  Mei sighed. She glanced at Simmons. He could see the plea for help in her eyes. He grinned and shrugged. She was on her own. Truth be told, now that she had started to talk about her experience with the bikers, he was as interested in hearing about it as Emma.

  “The big man’s name is Henri. I don’t know if they call him president, but he’s definitely the boss. I only talked to him once; right after they took me from the clinic. He told me to do whatever I had to do to cure Abbie.”

  “Abbie’s the girl?”

  Mei nodded.

  “Is she his girlfriend?” Emma asked, her lip curling up in disgust.

  “No, I don’t think so. I don’t know who she is. All Sébastien told me was that Henri had made a commitment to take care of her after her family was killed. When they heard rumours about Saanvi and the cure, they came north, looking for it.”

  Simmons perked up at the mention of Saanvi’s name. “Speaking of Saanvi, where is she?” he asked Emma.

  “At the guardhouse, I think.”

  “What do you mean, I think? You were supposed to look after her and make sure she got back home.”

  “We had a fight and she stomped off to talk to one of her crazy friends.”

  “What crazy friends?”

  “You know—the ones who used to hang around the fence talking about her.”

  “Damn it, Emma.”

  Mei reached over and touched his arm. “I didn’t see her at the gate when they dropped me off. Maybe, she went home.”

  “I hope so,” he said, already running in the direction of the house.

  Mei and Emma caught up to him as he rushed out of the kitchen with Saanvi’s chaperone, Sarah, right behind him. “She’s not here,” he said, out of breath and panicked.

  “She couldn’t have just disappeared. When was the last time anyone saw her?” Mei asked.

  “At the guardhouse,” Emma mumbled, staring at the floor.

  “Not since this morning,” Sarah added.

  “Were you home all day?” Simmons asked her.

  “No, I stepped out for a couple of hours to get food. I literally just got back a minute before you showed up. What about in there? Did you check her bedroom? She hangs a red scarf on the handle when she doesn’t want to be bothered.”

  He glanced down the hallway. Saanvi’s door was closed with a red scarf hanging from the handle. Relieved, he walked over and knocked. “Saanvi? Hello, Saanvi, are you in there?”

  When she didn’t answer, he cautiously opened the door. It looked like a bomb had gone off in her room. A drawer from her wooden dresser had been dumped on the bed next to an empty jewelry box. The other dresser drawers were open with articles of clothing hanging over their edges. Her personal belongings were scattered all over the room.

  “Is this normal,” he asked Sarah, knowing it probably wasn’t.

  She stepped around him and peeked into the room. “It’s usually not this bad.”

  “It’s my fault,” Emma said, her voice quivering. “I shouldn’t have yelled at her.”

  Still angry Emma hadn’t done as he had asked, Simmons spun back around to tell her to shut up. He stopped when Mei reached over and hugged her. “It’s not your fault,” Mei said softly. “People argue with each other all the time.”

  “But it is my fault. I yelled at her and told her to stop acting like a child.”

  “Why was she acting like a child? What were you two arguing about?”

  “She was mad because of Professor Simmons’s pills, so I told her to grow up.”

  Simmons squinted in confusion. “Mad about the pills? Why in the world would she be mad about that? If anything, she should be thrilled. Once we start mass-producing them, she’ll be able to return to a normal life.”

  “Maybe she doesn’t want that, Tony.”

  “I don’t understand,” he said, confused. “Saanvi always told us how much she hated being treated differently and not being allowed to do the same things as everyone else because she was special. It doesn’t make sense that she would change her mind suddenly.”

  Mei gave him a slightly patronizing look. “Tony, she’s a fifteen-year-old girl. I can’t pretend to know what’s going through her head, but think about it. For the last six months, we’ve all told her how special she is. Sure, she’s complained about all the restrictions we’ve put on her life, but somewhere deep inside her, she probably felt good about her contribution, and now it’s gone.”

  “But it’s not gone,” he said. “She’s still special. She’ll always be special. If it weren’t for her, there’s a good chance none of us would be alive.”

  “I know, but I doubt she’s thinking about it like that right now. All she knows is that you discovered a way to cure people and it doesn’t involve her.”

  Simmons looked at Sarah. “Do you have a radio?”

  “In the kitchen.”

  “Call the general and tell him Saanvi is missing. We need to get a search party formed, and we need to do it fast before the storm arrives.”

  Mei’s eyes widened. “What storm?”

  “Come on. I’ll tell you about it on the way.”

  Leduc looked up when they walked into his office. He gave Simmons an icy stare. “What happened? Did that big bastard kidnap her? I knew I should never have allowed you to convince me to let that son-of-a-bitch onto the base.”

  “What? No…The bikers had nothing to do with this.”

  “Who, then? She didn’t just up and disappear by herself.”

  “It seems like she did. A backpack and food is missing, and Emma thinks Saanvi took a pair of earrings that might have special meaning to her.”

  Leduc began to pace. “How did she get off the base?”

  “I think I know,” a voice said from behind Simmons.

  He turned to see Abrams standing in the doorway looking distinctly uncomfortable.

  “Spit it out,” Leduc said. “What did you discover?”

  “I asked around. The guards at both gates are positive she didn’t sneak past them, but…”

  “But what?” Leduc huffed. “She didn’t just grow wings and fly away.”

  Abrams cringed as he spoke. “It seems there’s a spot behind the barracks where the fence is loose. I’m told some of the enlisted men use it to sneak off base when they want to go into town for R&R.”

  Leduc’s face turned bright red. Simmons thought the general’s head migh
t actually explode.

  “Jesus Christ! How long have you known about this?”

  “I just found out. The fence is being fixed as we speak.”

  “Fat lot of good that will do us now,” Leduc muttered. He looked at Simmons and Mei. “You two know her better than anyone. Where would she go? Back to the farmhouse?”

  Mei nodded tentatively. “Maybe—she liked living there.”

  “No, I don’t think so,” Simmons said, remembering what Emma had told them. “I’d bet every dollar I have she’s with that beady-eyed nutcase and his freak followers who hang around outside the base.”

  Abrams shook his head. “She couldn’t be.”

  “Why not?”

  “They’ve been gone for a couple of weeks.”

  “What do you mean gone?”

  “I mean gone—as in, not here any longer.”

  “I don’t understand,” Simmons replied. “Emma said she saw Saanvi talking to one of the women.”

  “Maybe a few of them stuck around, but the dude—their leader—is definitely gone. After you told me you were worried about him, I asked the men to keep an eye open. A patrol reported seeing him with a small group on the road about eighty miles south of here.”

  “Regardless of who she’s with, she couldn’t have made it very far,” Leduc said. “Get a squad assembled and head into town. Start asking around. Everyone knows who she is. It isn’t like there are a lot of East Indian teenage girls with an English accent in our neck of the woods.”

  “I’ll get Dines and—”

  “Get someone else. Sergeant Dines isn’t here,” Leduc said. “She and her squad are at the clinic. I’ve called them back because of the storm, but they’re still two hours away from the base.”

  “What storm? That’s the second time I’ve heard someone mention it. Would one of you please tell me what’s going on?” Mei asked. She looked at Leduc and then Simmons.

  “It seems our friend the biker, in addition to being a drug-dealing motorcycle gang leader, is also an amateur meteorologist,” Leduc replied sarcastically.