Death and The Divide

by Lara Nance

  Death and The Divide

  By

  Lara Nance

  Death and The Divide

  By Lara Nance

  © Copyright Lara Nance 2015, All rights reserved.

  Cover art: Starla Huchton

  Edited by: Laura Kitchell

  PRINT:

  ISBN 13:978-1517644017

  ISBN 10:1517644011

  Books/E-books are not transferable. They cannot be sold, shared or given away as it is an infringement on the copyright of this work.

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

  This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places and incidents are products of the writer’s imagination or depict real places/populations in an imaginary way that in no way is meant to reflect negatively on those places or people. Names, characters, places and incidents are used fictitiously and are not construed as real. Brand name products used by the characters in this book do not reflect ownership of those trade names, only the admiration of the characters.

  Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, locale or organizations is entirely coincidental.

  Dedication:

  Here’s to those of you who read this fictional tale and recognize that extremes and radicals on either side are the enemy, not the parasite.

  "We must, indeed, all hang together or, most assuredly, we shall all hang separately."

  - Benjamin Franklin

  Chapter One

  “What the hell?” Annaria Moralez murmured as she scanned the news on her tech pad, her stomach clenching. She glanced up, afraid other passengers had heard her curse. However the people on the monorail remained absorbed in their own concerns, settled into normal routines as they headed for their jobs.

  She read the article again. Damn, someone from the Republic of the South had launched a homemade bomb over The Divide in the west. Indignation swelled in her chest. Would there ever be complete peace? They had separate countries now; why did the South keep torturing the North? She shook her head and scrolled lower to more disturbing news - a mass of seagulls attacking and killing each other on a beach in Florida. A pod of dolphins did the same on a beach in Texas. Her stomach churned reading the details. What was going on down there?

  Of course she never completely trusted news from the South, given that country’s media was controlled by the government. Still, this sort of story had no political implications and came from a British agency, so generally that type tended to hold truth.

  A bell rang and red lights along the ceiling flashed. Annaria jumped and clutched the arm of her seat. Her fellow mono riders also startled, a few let out screams.

  The vid-units positioned on the sides flashed yellow. Oh no! That never happened unless it was an emergency announcement. A trickle of adrenalin sent her pulse racing. It had been a long time since they’d had a need for this type of broadcast, and the alarm only added to her unease over the news from the South. Flashing yellow faded to the familiar face of a news announcer on the Harvard News Station.

  “We have just learned that recently-elected triumvirate member, Manolo Rominoff, has been attacked by the ultra-leftwing group, Radical Democracy.” The stern face of the newscaster hinted at the severity of the attack. “Reports from the nation’s capital complex in Omaha say that a lone man posing as a photographer tossed a small explosive device at the T.M. The bomb activated before landing, which apparently saved Member Rominoff’s life. However, he has extensive injuries and was rushed to Town Center Hospital by a hover med-evac.”

  Ria and most of the others gasped. All gazes went to the screens. No! This was horrible.

  “A hidden spokesman for the R.D. immediately claimed responsibility over a SatNet station, stating the attack was in response to the new member’s platform for the Democracy of America seeking advancements in trade and tourist negotiations with the Republic of America. The R.D. has repeatedly spoken out against reunification of the old United States.”

  The mono slowed to a stop. Great. Now they’d have to wait until the security checks had been activated. Could this be an attack from the South? She rubbed her arms, chilled at the thought such violence could hit so close to home. For God’s sake, they were in the North’s capital city.

  The news continued reporting that the leader was in serious but stable condition and expected to live. The man responsible had been captured, but he’d taken a suicide pill and died. As was typical in these situations, he had teeth implants and his fingerprints had been surgically replaced. Authorities had found no other indication of identity on him. A DNA trace would take several hours. In the meantime, capital security forces scoured the city for clues and signs of accomplices.

  Annaria grimaced. This news was bad enough, but on top of that, the disruption would cause delays on the monorail today and she was already running behind. Security would check I.D.’s at each stop. Dr. Manson would give her one of his famous set downs if she was late. She punched a button on her wrist comm-band, to turn on her personal tracking service to help speed her through the checkpoints. She hoped others would be as considerate.

  She activated a call on her comm to her sister. “Hey, Lola, did you see the news?”

  “Yeah. Are you okay?”

  “I’m fine. The mono is stopped though.”

  “Oh. I’m going over to Minlo’s and work on my statue. Can you meet Conner at the after school drop off?”

  How like her uber-creative sister to tune out everything but her art. “Sis, I might be late due to the delays. It might be better to stay home today. Your boyfriend will understand.”

  “Hmm, right. Didn’t think about that. I guess that rules out you picking up some Sizzybok for dinner.”

  Arrgghhhh! If that girl didn’t get her head out of the clouds, she’d never find a job and get her life on track. Annaria let out a deep breath and counted to ten. “Lola, you have to deal with this disaster. The city won’t be functioning normally. You’ll have to take care of Conner and your own issues today.”

  “Okay, okay. Maybe Min can come over here. See you later.”

  The link ended and Ria closed her eyes. She loved Lola, but her flighty mental capacity led to many frustrations. Fortunately, her son made up for that. Conner was a special kid and she loved having him around. She’d put up with them living with her for his sake.

  Exclamations and worried comments swirled throughout her mono-pod as the news continued. She turned to stare out the window and caught glimpses of National Security air-cars whizzing in all directions. She winced at the blaring sirens. Duo-copters crisscrossed the sky among the forest of towering apartment buildings, their sensor pods lowered. Sidewalks below the rail had their normal crowds, but most people paused in their daily trek to stare at the busy sky. Hopefully security would catch any other perpetrators soon so the city could return to normal. She shivered at the thought of more killers roaming the streets.

  Finally they moved ahead, and she breathed a sigh of relief. Her boss wouldn’t accept a national incident to forgive her tardiness.

  She pushed past loitering people at the Mono stop who stared at news screens angled from the ceiling, and sneaked a glance at the large digital clock over the exit. Already ten minutes late. Great. He’d be in a tear if he’d beaten her to work. She ran along the moving sidewalk, her heart pounding, and reached the lab out of breath. The light was off inside, and she breathed a sigh of relief. Dr. Manson had not yet arrived.

  When she entered, the lights automatically lit and bathed the room in a bluish tint, glinting off numerous shiny pieces of equipment. The smell of disinfectants
and preservatives stung her nostrils, but she barely noticed anymore. This place had become her home more than her apartment over the past six years, first as a graduate student and now as she finalized her PhD in parasitology. The progression of her education had taken longer than expected because she assisted Dr. Manson, but learning from him had been worth it despite his tendency for egotistical rants. Every graduate student in the field would kill to work with the foremost parasitologist in the world, and after his Hawking award last year, it had become even more competitive to get a fellowship with him. Although he still complained he hadn’t won the Nobel Prize, she considered herself very lucky.

  After quickly stowing her backpack, she turned on her computer and checked the testing sequence she’d started yesterday. Praying it hadn’t had a glitch and stopped overnight. Good. Still on schedule. She took a couple calming breaths, and zipped a lab tunic over her black outfit, then punched a button on the vend panel for two coffees. Maybe the day would settle from now on.

  “Great. You’re here.” Dr. Louis Manson stomped into the lab, a frown etched large on his ebony face. His tall, heavy frame, bent over from years of staring at a computer screen, made him appear to stare at the ground. “What a bunch of nonsense today. Why do they have to check my I.D. at every stop? Don’t they know I have important work to do? Incredible waste of resources if you ask me.”

  “I told you last time, if you turn on your tracker, they only check you at the beginning and end. It saves a lot of time.” She handed him a cup of steaming brew, and his expression mellowed a bit. Yay, caffeine, do your magic.

  “Are we still on schedule with the gorilla parasite?” He went to his desk in the far corner.

  “Yes. I expect it to complete by tomorrow morning.”

  “Humph,” he grunted and became absorbed in his own computer.

  Annaria grinned and returned to her desk. Grumpy outburst averted. Her desk-comm chimed, and a jolt of surprise shook her, sending a prickle of uncertainty through her. A Southern data code. Would the day’s drama never end? Who called her from The South?

  “Hello?”

  “Annaria Moralez?”

  “Yes.”

  A sigh of relief. “This is Carol Gates. I met you at the British Parasitology Conference a few months ago.”

  “Oh. Yes. How are you?” Her disquiet settled. She and Carol had formed a friendship at the weeklong conference, commiserating over the toils of completing their PhD’s. She had been surprised to bond with a Southerner, never before having an opportunity to interact with them. But they’d purposefully kept their conversation away from any dangerous topics like politics or religion, and became close. She’d caught a glimpse of the South that tempered her previous negativity of that country a bit.

  “I’m fine. I’ve missed our conversations. My family doesn’t understand the rigors of academia. I had my final oral arguments last month and you know how that is.”

  Annaria laughed. Some things were the same no matter what country you called home. “Oh, for sure. How did they go?”

  “Well. I’ll be finished with everything in another month, and I already have a job at the University of the South in Atlanta. I’d like to work a few years then transition to teaching. That’s my real passion.”

  “What great news. I’m glad for you.” Although she didn’t hold a spectacular opinion of the UOS, it was prestigious in the South. Carol had done well.

  “I wanted to talk to you about something.” Her friend’s tone changed, and she lowered her voice. “I’m in biology, as you know, and there’s a lot of concern about this seagull massacre in Florida. We’ve also heard of some similar but smaller situations on other beaches. Have you in the North had anything like this happen?”

  Annaria sank to her chair and glanced across the room at her boss, but he remained focused on his screen. She’d nearly forgotten those news articles in all the hubbub of the T.M. being attacked. She modulated her voice lower. “No, but I saw the report in the news. Do you have any ideas?”

  “Not yet. We’re expecting tissue samples tomorrow, and that may reveal more. I just wondered if a parasite could be involved. Have you come across anything like that before?”

  “Parasite infection can cause a lot of things, including host suicide and cannibalism, but I’ve never seen anything on that scale in an advanced species. Mostly in insects or small mammals, that sort of thing.” A quiver of fear shook her. The South was taking this seriously. That meant this was more than a random deviant act. There must be more information than what had been reported. “I’m surprised you were allowed to call me.”

  “I found a way to disconnect the tracer on my phone so they don’t know. I had to reach out to you. The parasitologists down here are nowhere near as advanced as yours. It’s not a very popular field. If anyone would know, I was sure Dr. Manson would.” She paused. “I’m a little frightened by these episodes, to be honest.”

  “It does sound ominous for such similar killings to occur in different species. Is there any other information you can give me that wasn’t in the news?

  Her friend didn’t answer for a few seconds. “Um, no. Not really. Maybe when we look at the tissue…”

  “All right. I’ll keep it in mind, but right now I don’t have any insight. I’m sorry.”

  “That’s okay. I’m grasping at straws, I suppose. They’re putting a lot of pressure on us. Will you be at the conference in Spain on bacterial diseases?”

  “I doubt it. Dr. Manson may, though.”

  “Great. I’ll look him up if I make it. This crisis might keep me here.”

  “Well, take care of yourself. It was good to hear from you. I’ll look into possibilities for the deaths.”

  “You, too, Ria. I’ll contact you tomorrow and see if you found anything. It would be best if you don’t call me. I need to turn off the tracker before we connect.”

  “I understand. I’ll wait.”

  The call ended, and she drummed her fingers on the desk. So the stories she’d read were confirmed, but other incidents had occurred that hadn’t made it to the North’s news. Interesting. She went to a search page and switched to manual input instead of voice. Dr. Manson wouldn’t appreciate her focus diverting from his project. She entered ‘incidents of animals attacking within a species’ and scanned the results.

  SatNet would pick up anything worldwide, including the South. She waded through a lot of unrelated reports, then found the seagull story in Florida, along with the Texas killings and two more with lower casualties in Louisiana. What the hell? She bit her bottom lip, her curiosity peaked. She swiped the entries to transfer them to her tech-pad.

  “Dr. Manson?” She risked a reprimand. “I have something curious I’d like to discuss with you.”

  “About parasites or your love life?” he asked without turning from his screen.

  Her cheeks flamed hot. He knew she worked night and day on her studies and helping him. She had no time for a love life. “Parasites, of course.”

  He looked up and gestured for her to approach, staring at her in that imperious manner sort of looking down his nose at her. “Very well, what has the possibility of being interesting?”

  She strode across the room and handed him her pad. “There’s been some unusual activity among animals in the South along the Gulf of Mexico.”

  As he read the stories, his brows came together, a clear sign this issue intrigued him. She ran her tongue over her lips, waiting for his comment.

  “Fascinating,” he murmured after several moments.

  “Could that possibly be a parasitic infection?”

  “Why not? T. gondii has found a way to alter brain signaling in rodents to make them more likely to seek death from predators. Horsehair worms cause crickets to commit suicide. Mutations occur constantly. Nearly a hundred years ago in 2015, a parasite was found to cause cannibalism in a species of fresh water shrimp.” He leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms over his bulky abdomen. “There’s no reason to exc
lude parasitic involvement in something of this nature. Although it seems unlikely.”

  She swallowed. “If a parasite caused this within these animals, what’s to stop it from having a similar effect in other species?”

  He shook his head in a dismissive manner. “That sort of metamorphosis takes many years to adapt and transition.”

  “Then how come you still look intrigued?”

  “Because there aren’t signs of crossover in lower species that could be traced to these animals. An abrupt evolutionary change would be quite disturbing.”

  “It should at least be investigated,” she said as goose bumps rose on her arms. What a nightmare if it were possible. Leaps of this nature could devastate species, upsetting the delicate balance of nature.

  “True, but the only way to delve into the matter is to have some tissue samples from the birds. I don’t think much of the academic parasitology abilities in the South.”

  “Don’t you have a colleague down there you could call?”

  He snorted. “And what? Ask him to put a bird in the mail to us? Come on, Ria. You know the South won’t share research with the North. And the North wouldn’t appreciate my attempt at obtaining it.”

  She started to tell him about her friend, but decided she should ask Carol’s permission first. The issue of sharing data across the Divide was taboo. Anything that happened in either country could only find its way to the public through publication in international scientific journals. They had no time for that.

  “What about this new member of the triumvirate who was attacked?” she asked, trying another tack. “He’s promoting the idea of more interaction. Shouldn’t we share scientific data when it comes to the common good of humanity?”

  “Spoken like a true student of democracy.” He laughed, but the sound mocked her ideology. “Sure, he’s spouting regulated trade and structured tourist visits, but even that minor change is years down the road.” He rubbed his chin. “Don’t forget he was attacked. Not everyone is on board with this softer approach to the South.”