Plagued: Book 1

by Eden Crowne

  The outdoor mall was full of old trees and big, fat, decorative planters for flowers all along the center of the rambling promenade. The past three years, the older members of the Neighborhood Watch together with the schools had worked to restore the flower beds the mall was famous for before the plagues. Last spring, Sky's class took their turn helping the decoration committee. This year the fountains were even turned on again over weekends. Sky visited the planters she'd worked on. They were still lush and blooming even in October.

  Since the government lifted most sanctions against gathering during the flu season last year, stores in the Bay Area were planning to stay open in the evening for the first time in twenty years this winter. There were plans to actually decorate the mall for Christmas and the other winter holidays. Lights and trees and everything. Sky had already signed on for that project which was scheduled to start next weekend. The merchants, of course, were enthusiastic supporters. Every shop had automatic sanitizers installed at the entrance anyway. As long as people wore their masks for winter, coming to an outdoor mall wasn't seen as a real flu danger.

  Sky headed for the Coffee Brewing Company where a blueberry muffin and soy cafe mocha were calling her name. Since the mall had reopened, CBC had become the unofficial town square. Stay there more than a few minutes and you were sure to see someone you knew.

  The Saturday morning Farmer's Market in the parking lot was just packing up, making CBC extra busy. Despite the chill, the crowd from the coffee house spilled over onto the wide terrace with more people sitting on the curb with their coffee, comparing their bags of goodies.

  She found one table left outside. Empty probably due to being in the shade and its distance from the space heaters. That was okay, she had her coffee to warm her up. Taking a big bite of the muffin – CBC made fat, tasty muffins – she savored the sweet-tart flavor on her tongue. The scent of the blueberries filled her nose mingling with that of coffee, autumn leaves, and the sharp metallic scent of rain in the air. The world smelled clean and fresh at that moment.

  Several bites into her muffin she saw the beautiful, well-dressed young man from the street approaching at a lazy pace, a ceramic cup and saucer in one hand, his eyes roving over the terrace. She didn't know CBC even had ceramic cups.

  A few steps from her table, he stopped and cocked his head to one side.“Hello.”

  Sky looked over both shoulders, sure he must be talking to someone behind her. No way this handsome stranger was speaking to her again in anything but her imagination. Especially since she'd kicked wet leaves all over his expensive clothes.

  He chuckled, low and slow, meeting her eyes with his. “Hello to you. We didn't introduce ourselves before. I'm Quill.” He held his hand out for her to shake.

  She took it, a little too quickly to establish any credibility for being cool. “Sky.”

  “Thank you for the directions. I navigated my way there and back again quite quickly. Would you mind terribly if I sat with you while I drank my coffee?” He looked at her from under his lashes, his expressive face smiling in polite inquiry. “All the tables are full and I am not only alone but very new to this area. I promise not to be annoying.”

  Sky made some sort of gurgling noise of assent and waved towards the chair.

  Luckily he was able to interpret that as a 'yes.'

  Setting down his cup, it had to be espresso it was so small, he gave her an easy smile. “This is very lovely.” He indicated the mall with a sweep of his hand, the long tapered fingers spread wide. “I can see why everyone recommended I visit Palo Alto. The recovery seems quite advanced here.”

  She kept stealing glances at him. He was younger than she first thought, probably only a year or so older than her. His manners and clothes were so fine, she'd just assumed he was more grown up.

  “Where are you from in England?” Be polite, she advised herself. Ask questions. Don't be weird.

  “London,” he smiled again. “Have you been?”

  Sky shook her head. “I'd like to go. See everywhere, you know? After my placement exams, I'm hoping my duty will be with the Department of Defense. I'm going to ask for the diplomatic service.”

  He nodded, giving her comment serious consideration. “That would be an exciting career. Intellectually challenging. I thought all Negatives in the US were drafted into the military after high school?”

  “Well, yes, but you get college if your test scores are high enough and you have a choice of careers. It's not like we have no freedom. If people enjoy what they're doing, they'll probably stay even after the ten years of service are up.”

  “Of course. Astute planning.”

  Sky thought he might say something biting or sarcastic, but he didn't. He gave her another engaging smile and encouraged her to talk about Palo Alto, her school and her friends.

  The next hour or so seemed more like a scene out of a clever movie than Sky's life. Quill was funny and charming and full of amusing stories about the differences between America and Great Britain. Or not-so-great Britain as he laughingly called it.

  She talked a little about her training in Tactical, her complicated relationship with her sister and, somehow, her ghost dog Alex and how much she missed him.

  Sipping his espresso, he nodded as she talked about Kara. “My parents and I have a prickly sort of dynamic as well. Particularly with my father.”

  “Do you have any brothers or sisters?”

  “A brother. He and I, well, we don't speak very often.”

  Sky felt very grown up talking to him. This light-hearted conversation with a worldly young man gave her a little insight into what slightly more mature relationships could be. Plus, he openly admired her town and how well the area had recovered from the plague years.

  She got him to talk about London and how that city was coping with recovery.

  “Much like cities in America or here in your town. The government designates specific areas of London and other cities for clean up and recovery. Every citizen pulls their share of community service. A number of schools and colleges are open. Lower forms still are largely on the Net. Many monuments are open again. The Tower of London, National Gallery and Museum of Natural History, for example. They've worked very hard over the past ten years to re-establish reliable railroad and shipping links. We suffered terribly from the breakdown in transportation for our oil supplies. Though your country has helped improve that. You're lucky California is practically self-sufficient with the oil fracking and shale fields. Fuel is still rationed at home and blackouts are common in the winter to conserve energy. We burn a lot of peat and coal again, rather like the industrial revolution. Skies can be a bit gray.” He laughed. “Rather like Victorian London of old.”

  Sky felt disappointed when he finally stood to go. She wished the conversation could go on.

  He looked at her frankly, the sly smile she had seen as he sauntered over back again. “Very nice talking with you, Sky. I''m sure I shall see you again.”

  It was only after he left, Sky's eyes watching him every step, she realized she forgot to ask why he was in town.

  Chapter 9

  Blood Sport

  Sunday afternoon and the 'He did It Again Birthday Bash' was in full swing with the Antonelli household's unmistakable mix of manliness and girly glamor. The entire neighborhood was invited, plus their Tactical squad, all of Rickey's teachers from several years of school and anyone else who wanted to drop by for some food. The Antonellis loved to have people over. Overflowing, over. The yard, house, and driveway were packed. You could see the barbecue smoke from blocks away. She and her aunt walked over because Eloise declared her intention to drink at least a pitcher of margaritas. Mrs. Antonelli, apparently, made killer cocktails.

  A group of younger kids ran in circles in the street tossing a football and shouting. One of them was Rickey's younger brother, Bruno. Rickey liked to point out, with a name like that, the kid had no choice except to be straight.

  All the guests brought something to eat as
well as gifts. She and her aunt came in through the backyard and Sky waved at Rickey's dad. He looked like a happy man. Piles of meat to roast, a bottle of beer in one hand and tongs in the other.

  Meat, unlike dairy and eggs, wasn't rationed. Eloise brought some of their dairy rations for Rickey's parents. They liked cheese, especially in the pasta dishes Mrs. Antonelli excelled at. Sky hated all dairy except butter – unless milk was being used in cake. Cake rendered milk instantly and extremely palatable. With a little help from the lactose tablets she always carried in her bag, of course.

  People who were not lactose intolerant were probably very pleased to have dairy farming making a determined comeback. Dairy cattle died off at an unbelievable rate during the plague years. Faster at one point than people. They had to be milked daily or they died. Horribly and in pain.

  Luckily small dairy farmers in England, France, Holland and quite a few in Canada and the American Midwest survived the epidemics and kept the bloodstock healthy and strong. Dairy herds were growing again. Beef cattle, on the other hand, could forage for themselves. Animal activists and others had thrown open slaughterhouse gates early on. Cutting wires on ranches to free them as well. Now America had hundreds of thousands of wild cattle again. Like frontier days. Beef was plentiful. Pork, too.

  Chicken, though, was almost never on the menu. There were still laws against raising domestic chicken, geese, ducks and turkey. Eggs came from government controlled poultry farms with chickens raised in climate controlled environments. No one could forget the 'bird' element in bird flu. Maybe in another few years it would be legal. In rural America there were probably still lots of illegal poultry farms. The country was too big to strictly police, even for the robot drones tirelessly patrolling U.S. airspace.

  Sky was wearing a button-down, blue and white pinstripe shirt with contrasting material on the inside of the cuffs and collar, over a pair of slim-cut navy pants and embellished navy blue ballet flats. She had a vintage navy Hollister cardigan that was her mom's tied around her waist. This was currently her favorite outfit.

  The sound system on the patio pumped out Britney Spears on infinite loop. Karaoke was in full swing, complete with costumes to wear during partygoer's time at the mic. The family had pulled the big screen TV out of the living room and set it up in front of the stage Mr. Antonelli built as a Christmas present for Rickey one year.

  It was great, chaotic, delicious fun. Sky didn't want to think about the blood vault. Whatever was going on, it was way beyond her, she'd decided. She wasn't a secret agent. She wasn't even a real soldier.

  Sky brought her tablet PC from home so Mom could join in the baby shower festivities in the living room. Mrs. Antonelli said it wasn't necessary as they could use their WiFi and tablet. Her mother's position in the government, however, meant she always had to use an encrypted satellite line, so it was easier just to bring their own stuff. Leaving the tablet and the gift of baby clothes with Aunt Eloise, already in line for a margarita, Sky took Rickey's gift and headed toward the stage.

  She kept having to shift the position of Rickey's birthday present so she could see around it. The gift was a life-sized pillow of Britney Spears in one of her sparkly outfits. Sky found it online and ordered the pillow immediately. He was going to go crazy when he realized he could now have a sleepover with his idol every night.

  Heading towards the patio, she hooked up with Mary and Melissa and arm in arm – together with Britney – they went in search of the birthday boy.

  Rickey was holding court around the karaoke machine, cheering on Sara Anne at the mic. His friends from the neighborhood and school gathered round, happily stuffing themselves with food from the tables or directly off the grill. To her surprise, Rickey took her aside almost next to the speaker. The music was pumping out so loudly she could hardly hear him.

  “I need to talk to you about Friday.”

  “You can talk but I can't hear you!” She had to shout over the music.

  “The noise covers eavesdropping, in case someone is listening.”

  She looked at him expectantly, shifting the pillow in her arms. He must be planning some secret surprise for his mom or a practical joke.

  He cupped his hands around her ear. “Something's wrong at the base.”

  That was not what she was expecting.

  “I tracked the stealth bikes with the Catz, just like you said.”

  “And?”

  Rickey didn't answer. He was no longer looking at her but at the stage. Daphne, wearing a long blond wig from the costume box, was singing one of Britney's more suggestive songs. She seemed determined to match the video on the screen hip grind for hip grind while her bountiful breasts bounced in rhythm. An appreciative audience of boys were crowded around. Beyond the stage, Sergeant McNeil walked into the yard beside another man. Sara Anne, who saw them approach, made furious slicing motions across her throat to stop the show. Daphne, however, sang on, oblivious to everything but her performance with the video. Rickey had a side-by-side camera to insert yourself into the karaoke DVDs.

  Sara Anne yelled, “Attention!”

  The regulars in the squad popped to attention and saluted. Daphne dropped the mic in surprise and the feedback howled. Everyone yelled and one of the other kids picked it up. Pulling off the wig, she jumped off the stage to join the group.

  The sergeant waved them at ease. “I'm not in uniform Juniors and neither are you. We are all off duty, no saluting is necessary.”

  Rickey was watching the sergeant, but as yet made no move to go closer.

  “Come on,” Sky urged. “You have to greet him.”

  He slowly rolled towards their Squad Leader. Rickey's movements in his chair were very nuanced, an extension of his body language. He could move joyfully, fearfully, shy, all of it. Sky knew him well enough to interpret a subtle reluctance to go closer. This was weird.

  “There he is. Happy birthday, Antonelli.”

  “Thank you, sir. I didn't know you were coming.”

  “Your parents sent me an invitation.” The sergeant indicated the other man. “Juniors, this is Major Bromwell.”

  The haircut and posture of the man gave him away as military even before the introduction. Sky already knew who he was, Kara's commanding officer and mentor.

  They all stood up a little straighter.

  “Sir, these are some of my Junior squad.” He looked around the group. “Most of them. Where's Singh?”

  “Here. Here, sir!” Raj dashed over carrying a plate precariously piled with ribs and grilled corn. He was tall and lanky, all arms and legs. He had thick, wavy hair so black it sometimes looked navy blue. His long, thin face was set off by a biggish nose and eyes the color of chestnuts. Once he filled out, Eloise had told Sky, he'd not only grow into that nose but be a handsome young man. Sky and Raj had been playmates since they were five. It was hard to think of him becoming a man and not staying a boy forever.

  He set the plate carefully on the ground and snapped to attention.

  The major looked them over. “Which of you is Christensen?”

  Sky shifted the pillow and raised her hand, surprised. Crap, maybe she was in trouble and that's what Rickey was trying to tell her. The major had come to drag her off for a court martial. “Me, sir.”

  “How's your sister feeling? Close call.”

  Relief flooded through her. “She's still in ICU, though not in danger.”

  “Good. Good.”

  “The baby's fine, too,” she babbled, relieved he was not here in any official capacity.

  His posture stiffened and he looked her right in the eyes. “Baby? What baby?”

  Sky felt her stomach slide down to somewhere around her ankles. Maybe she wasn't supposed to say anything about babies to Kara's commanding officer. Damn it, could she do nothing right?

  “I said what baby, Ms. Christensen?”

  Taking a deep breath, Sky decided not to dig herself in any deeper. “Begging your pardon, sir, that's not for me to say.”
/>   His face darkened and Sky waited for a rebuke. He opened his mouth, then seemed to think better of it, speaking to Rickey instead. “How many days until you get your legs, soldier?”

  “Four hundred twenty-five, sir.”

  That was how many days until graduation. Ironically it was the plague that was going to get Rickey up on his feet. At eighteen, Rickey would qualify for Mobility Gear. A set of lightweight metal and plastic legs that fastened with just a few clicks over his lower torso. An exoskeleton powered by batteries would allow Rickey to walk and run. He was much more useful to the American government on his feet.

  Research on transfusion technology for third world countries – where there was no electricity and portable generators few and far between – had led to breakthroughs in ultra-light, long-run batteries some years before. They enabled an entire transfusion unit to be scaled down to the size of just two backpacks, perfect for access to rough country.

  That was also precisely the technology needed to kick exoskeletons up to the next level. The new batteries could power a mobility suit without recharging for up to twenty-four hours.

  Teens and children, unless they were an extreme case, generally waited until they finished most of their growth spurt before being fitted with the custom-designed suits.

  “Why don't you take the major to your dad, Antonelli. Introduce him to a cold beer while you're at it.”

  “Yes, sir.” Rickey maneuvered his chair and led the major to the group around the barbecue.

  Sky stole a glance at her Squad Leader only to find him staring right back at her. She cringed. He'd given her the delayed dressing down in front of the squad Friday afternoon for her actions.

  “Did I order you to investigate?” he'd yelled. “Did I tell you to enter buildings?”

  “No, sir.”

  “I didn't hear that.”