Armageddon Hyde in The Chosen and the Damned

by Joseph Terra Jr

  "You know, Chand, for a go-getter, you're sure asking a lot of questions. You're not getting cold feet, are you? A sudden attack of the conscience?"

  "Nope," Chand said evenly. "No fear of that, boss. But seriously - why me?"

  Roberts smiled. "You've got a good head for these sort of things, Chand. That's why I chose you. That, and certain... expensive tastes."

  Chand frowned. "We're not going to talk about that."

  Roberts raised his hands. "Of course not. But come on now, follow this through. You always did have an good grasp of the business side of things."

  Chand did not return his smile. "So you've hit on this promising discovery," he said thoughtfully. "But you haven't shared it with anyone yet - anyone, except me. Why don't you want the others to know? I mean, it's nothing but good news, right? A safer product is a better product. It means less harassment from local government, less concerned citizens, less bribes..." He gave Roberts a hard look. "So who don't you like, Boss? Who are you cutting out of the loop?"

  Roberts gave him a toothy smile. "One guess, Chand, that's all you should need. It shouldn't be hard. I'll give you a clue: I was never much of a church-going man."

  "Price."

  "Yeah - Price."

  "But it's his project. Without his input, his funding - "

  Roberts snorted. "Price was a useful ally for us in the early stages of trials, but lately he's been more of an impediment than a help. He brings these pesky religious convictions with him that are restricting our - "

  Chand smiled faintly. "Like not killing people? Man, what a stick in the mud."

  Roberts frowned. "Yeah, funny guy. You're still here, right?" He leaned forward. "Listen. If we can get this working, we don't need Price anymore. We've been pumping out the precursor hand over fist - with a dose size that small, we've got close to an unlimited supply already. It's the inhibitor that's been holding us back - the scarcity, the cost, the unreliability. But if we cut out the need for the inhibitor entirely..." He smiled and rubbed his hands. "If we do that, then we have it all."

  "Okay, but what about Price? You can't just whack him, Roberts, if that's what you're thinking. He's connected to the Church of the Holy Illuminant, man, and those guys don't play. They look after their own - and they have a lot of guns."

  "I'm not talking about whacking him," Roberts said impatiently. "What kind of animal do you think I am? We don't need to whack anybody. I'm proposing we simply... let him go. In truth, we don't need him any more."

  "And what about everyone else you're not telling?" Chand demanded. "What about the board? Are we just gonna let them all go too? How the hell does that work?"

  Roberts grinned. "In a manner of speaking, yeah, we're gonna let them all go. If this new batch of precursor goes as planned, then we can set up our own operation off-site. Somewhere remote, with no pesky government interference. It wouldn't take much, you know - just you, me, maybe a half-dozen reliable workers..."

  "And just dump everyone else, huh?"

  "If we have to," Roberts shrugged. "Maybe. I've been feeling out Werner, trying to suggest without suggesting, you know - but he's a cagey bastard, hard to read. And he seems to like Price for some god-unknown reason. I dunno. I can't answer that now." His eyes came into focus. "But I need to know if you're on board with this now, Chand. Regardless of Price, or Werner or anyone else." He gave Chand a speculative look. "Would you say you're well-paid for your work here, Chand?"

  Chand was silent a moment. "Yeah, boss, I'd say that. It's a tough job, for sure, but I'm happy with what I get paid."

  Roberts grinned that raptor grin. "Then imagine how you'd feel on a partner's salary," he said.

  Stephens' watch said 10.06am.

  He had left his station at just after 7.30 and stolen down the the biotech lab. The place was big, hosting over two dozen techs on a normal work day, but today it was completely empty; going in, Stephens had wondered how the hell he was going to find whatever the girl had left for him. As it turned out, he didn't need to worry. On a bench, next to a small hand mirror and a bobble-head doll of Albert Einstein, he found a small, stoppered glass bottle. The bottle had been marked with a red lipstick kiss, and when Stephens picked it up he caught a whiff of the same perfume she'd been wearing earlier. He picked it up, his hands shaking slightly as he did so, and then slipped it into his pocket.

  He'd made it back to his station without incident. Some paranoid part of him had been convinced that the moment he stepped away from the dials something would go horribly wrong, but paranoia was all it was - nothing had moved in the few minutes he'd been away. His relief, a husky young technician named Hobbs, was supposed to show up at around 10.00 so Stephens could take his break. But Hobbs had yet to show. Stephens fingered the bottle in his pocket. Am I really going to do this? He wondered. The thought of fucking over Roberts was a powerful incentive, but that alone might not have been enough to get him moving. But that wasn't the only incentive he had, was it? The girl... dear god, the girl. How could you say no to that? How could anyone? She was like a dream come true - his hot, sexy partner in crime...

  A loud belch from just inside the door announced Hobbs' arrival. "Hey, man," he said. "Aren't those doors supposed to be shut?"

  "No one ever shuts those goddamn doors," Stephens snapped. "So why the hell should I?"

  "Shit, man." Hobbs raised his hands in a placating gesture. "I was just sayin'. You need a coffee or something? You're acting kinda cranky."

  I'm fine, Stephens wanted to snap. But yeah, of course... he was going for coffee. That was where he was going. He definitely wasn't going down to labs and dump that mystery bottle in the yeast vat - was he?

  "Yeah," he muttered. "Yep... it's definitely coffee time."

  Oh, come on!!!

  This guy is going places...

  The clock on Armageddon's dash read 11:49 a.m.

  The drive back to Buttfuque had taken longer than she'd wanted; driving in the desert in the dark had almost led to disaster. She'd almost gotten stuck twice: the first time having to backtrack after driving into a field of hoodoos, the second time coming this close to putting her truck in a ditch. When she finally made it back to the road, she was alarmed to find it was nearly dawn. As the sun rose, she put the pedal to the metal and flew back to the south.

  She had been nervous driving through the gates, scanning the nearby roads for police, but there were none to be seen and the young soldier in the booth waved her through without a second glance. She turned off the main road as quickly as she could, working her way steadily east through a maze of side streets. She managed to avoid the market area this time, and she thought she must be nearly out of the town center by now. There's still time, she told herself. Praise the Lord, there's still time.

  As she turned a corner, she heard a familiar sound: the obnoxious, thumping sound of a bass speaker turned way too loud. There was a row of traffic ahead, moving slow; as she came up on the back of a large purple pickup truck, the traffic came to a halt.

  Ahead, the pump of the bass grew louder still. Without warning, a flood of people came pouring out of the nearby buildings, shouting and waving liquor bottles overhead. The driver ahead of Armageddon leaned angrily on his horn, but the crowd paid him no heed: a pair of women leaped onto the truck's hood and started dancing. Ahead, two men hoisted a banner overhead, accompanied by a rousing cheer. The banner read:

  BUTTFUC CITY PRIDE DAY. SPONSORED BY JIMBO'S LIQUOR CABINET AND

  "And what?" Armageddon muttered. "And dear Lord - how am I going to get out of here?"

  As she watched, a second banner rose up next to the first. It read:

  WERNER/ROBERTS INC.

  "Oh, come on!" she said.

  The clock on the wall of Price Ministries was shaped like a large fish. It read 12:03 p.m.

  Hellfire Price, immaculately turned out in his best black suit, sat quietly at his desk, writing in a notebook with a gold fountain pen. Somewhere in the distance, a bass speaker was pounding, b
ut Hellfire barely heard it; he had been here long enough that he hardly ever noticed the music any more. The clock ticked quietly; the pen scratched across the paper. Hellfire's face had the serene expression of a man engaged in the Lord's work.

  There was a tap on the door. "Mr Price?" a woman's voice said. "I just wanna remind you that I'm taking off for the day. Okay?"

  Price glanced up briefly. "Thanks, Carolyn!" he called. "Have a safe trip!" Carolyn was headed north, to visit her delightful Jewish aunt. "Don't forget to lock the door on your way out!"

  "Will do, Mr Price!" Carolyn said. Hellfire waited until he heard the door slam before turning back to his papers. The pen scratched busily, rarely pausing: his penmanship was immaculate.

  Outside, there was a knock on the door. Hellfire straightened up, allowing himself a small sigh. "Oh, Carolyn," he murmured. "Did you lock yourself out again?"

  He rose and went through to the outer office. A figure stood at the glass doors, but it wasn't Carolyn: it was a young man, sweaty and rather disheveled, dressed in black shorts and a yellow lycra shirt. After squinting at him for a moment, Hellfire realized it was a bike courier.

  Hellfire opened the door. "Hello," he said politely. "Do you have something for me?"

  "Sure do, bro!" The courier reached into his satchel and handed Hellfire... a walkie-talkie? Hellfire stared at it, confused.

  "Um," he said. "I don't believe I ordered one of these..."

  "Special delivery from Werner/Roberts, bro!" the courier said, smiling. "Hellfire Price, right?"

  "Yes," Hellfire murmured. "That's me..." He looked at the walkie-talkie, frowning. "Do I need to sign for this?"

  "Nup, you're good," the courier said. "Have a great day, bro!" He jumped on his bike and rode off in the direction of the distant music.

  Hellfire walked back into the main office, frowning. The walkie-talkie sat silently in his hand. After a moment, he shrugged and pressed the button. "Hello? Hello?"

  The walkie-talkie crackled noisily into life. Hellfire heard a babble of voices, but nothing he could clearly make out. After a moment, though, a familiar voice came through. "Price!" it said. "We've got big problems, pal. Something’s gone wrong with the vats - we've got a containment issue over here!"

  "Roberts?" Price stared at the walkie-talkie in deepening confusion. "I wasn't aware we were working today. What's going on?"

  "We're not working!" Roberts said, sounding harried. "We weren't doing anything. I just stopped by the plant to pick some things up, and - and - well, there's a problem with the latest batch of precursor. It's spoiled, somehow. And it's expanding rapidly inside the vat. At this rate, it's gonna overflow soon."

  "Wait, wait... the latest batch? I thought we had all the precursor we needed - why would we be making more?"

  "Damn it, Price, we don't have time to discuss that right now!" Roberts barked. "We stand to lose big money if this isn't handled right. Werner's on his way to the plant, and I need you to - "

  His voice cut off abruptly in a burst of static, and the walkie-talkie went silent. Hellfire pressed the button. "Hello? Hello? Roberts, are you there?"

  The device sat dead in his hand.

  Price looked at it for long moment, thinking. Then he tucked the walkie-talkie carefully into his pocket and went to grab his keys.

  Bob's Bogus Journey

  Everything is going to be fine. Just fine. Trust me.

  The door to the conference room slammed open. "Roberts!"

  Bob Roberts flinched and sat up in his chair. Werner stormed in, shaking his finger as he approached. "What is the meaning of this?" he demanded. Before Roberts could form a reply, Werner went on. "I was in the middle of a very nice scene - that I paid top dollar for, by the way - and then the next thing I know I get a message saying there's an emergency at the plant?" He stopped in front of Roberts' seat, shaking with rage. He was a head shorter and a good hundred pounds lighter than his partner, but Roberts still shrank back a little. "What have you been doing behind my back!?" Werner shouted.

  "For Chrissakes, Werner, calm down," Roberts said sulkily. He rose from his seat, eyeing his partner nervously, and then went to the window. "It was just a little experimentation," Roberts said. "On my own time, and with my own money. I was going to tell you about it, but I wasn't going to bother until it became real, Werner. Why would I waste your time with one little experiment? One that might not even come to anything?"

  "It certainly looks like it came to something," Werner said. "This all looks pretty real to me, Roberts. I ran into Chand on my way in, and he said best case scenario this costs us a million in damages. A god damned million!"

  "Okay, okay," Roberts muttered. Chand, you shit, he thought. Who told you you could talk? You should have kept your goddamn mouth shut. "Okay. You got it all out of your system now, Werner? Because we've got decisions to make. We need to figure out how to control our losses here." Werner stood still, glaring silently at him, and Roberts gave a sigh of irritation. "You wanna come after me, Werner? Fine. You'll have plenty of time to do that. But right now, we need to get things back under control. We need to handle this together, Werner - the three of us need to - "

  "Three...?" Werner looked baffled. "Wait... you mean Price? Price is coming in on this?"

  "Of course he's coming in. It's his project. He has a right to know what - "

  "Oh, very good, Roberts," Werner said. "How very inclusive of you, getting the client in on this. Then it's no longer just your problem, is it? It's our problem."

  Roberts said nothing, but he had the good grace to blush.

  "All right," Werner said. "If Price is coming, fine, but we can't afford to wait. As you say, we have decisions to make. I understand the vats are on the verge of overflow, and that nothing we've done has been able to stop this. Am I correct in this? You've tried all the standard containment protocols?"

  "We have. Nothing's working."

  "Very well, then we're going to have to seal the sector. Pull any staff out of there - and the adjoining sectors as well - and then seal the doors."

  "If we do that, we're abandoning the whole of sector B," Roberts said. "Not just the vats, but all of it. The labs, the storage areas - it'll take weeks to get cleaned up."

  "Yes," Werner said coldly. "I am fully aware of this."

  "Can't we try to deal with this before we just give up on the whole sector? We could send Chand in. If he can kill the yeast, then all we have to worry about is cleaning out the vats..."

  "... and if it doesn't work in time, we're done for," Werner said. "I don't know what you did to the yeast, but this is not a normal growth curve. If we get a giant cloud of the precursor rolling through the plant, and the area isn't already completely sealed, it'll be too late. You have no earthly idea how fast that stuff can spread if it gets into open air, do you, Roberts?"

  "Hey," Roberts muttered. "You're the one who knows the science side of things."

  "Yes," Werner said crisply. "And you're the one who knows about... ah... what was it again? Good business practice? Is that why we keep you around?" He gave Roberts a chilly look. "Oh yes, Mr Roberts. We will be having quite the partner's meeting when this is all over. You can be certain of that."

  "The sector's sealed," Chand told them, "and the cameras are back up. You should come look at it, boss - get an idea of what we're dealing with down there."

  "I know what we're dealing with - " Roberts began.

  "Shut up," Werner said coldly. "You need to see this, Roberts. I want you to take a good hard look at the mess you've made. Follow me, both of you."

  They made their way down the hall to the monitor room, and Werner shooed the worried-looking attendant away. "Here," he said, pointing at one of the monitors. "Watch this one." He turned a dial beneath the screen, and it lit up with a long shot of an empty hallway.

  The hallway was completely still; the only movement was the occasional flicker of static on the screen. They stared at it for maybe half a minute. "So what am I meant to be seeing
?" Roberts asked.

  "Wait," Werner said. "Quiet."

  Roberts sighed and fidgeted, but he did as he was told. There was a flash of movement on screen, something dark appearing in the distance - and then, suddenly, a billowing gray cloud could be seen spilling into the hallway. It moved fast - about as fast as a man on the run - and Roberts flinched and muttered as it flew toward the camera. Seconds later they saw nothing but gray.

  "Dear Lord," Roberts muttered. "At that rate, it'll fill the whole sector in - "

  "In a matter of minutes," Werner said. "Aren't you glad you took my advice now, Roberts?"

  Roberts did not reply. They watched the next monitor, and the next; watched the whole sector filling up with gas.

  "What happens when it fills?" Roberts finally asked.

  "Then we wait for it to stabilize," Werner said. "We wait until it's finished reacting with... whatever the hell it's reacting with, and then we find a way to clear it. Specifically, we hope like hell the pressure doesn't cause an explosion - one that might rupture the gas tanks in sector C." He gave Roberts a grim look. "Someone spiked the vat, I think. This isn't just the result of your screw up: it's far too potent a reaction for that. A reaction this big - I think this is the result of deliberate sabotage."

  Roberts spun towards him. "You're kidding me," he growled. Werner said nothing at all. "I'll kill the bastard!" Roberts roared. "I'll find the fucker and I'll fucking kill him!"

  Werner sniffed. "One thing at a time, Roberts. We still have to decide what to do if the pressure keeps building in sector B. If it gets high enough..." he gave a humorless smile. "Well, your little vandal will most certainly die. But so will everybody else."

  Minutes later, every last feed broadcasting from sector B showed nothing but gray. "Where the hell is Price?" Roberts said. "He should be here by now."

  "Maybe he's not coming," Werner said quietly. "Maybe he's the smart one, hmm?"

  "He'll come," Roberts snapped. "Chand - can you get security on the intercom? I want you to call them and tell them to keep their eye out for Price. As soon as he shows up, I want them to bring him up here."