by Hal Bodner
“Hardy, har, har,” I shot back, tonelessly voicing my displeasure.
While I was pretty sure that I’d managed to follow Travis’ logic, I wasn’t quite as certain that I completely understood what he was getting at. Ending world hunger was, indeed, a grand thing. However, I couldn’t help feeling that if a guy in a strange costume shows up threatening to crash an asteroid into a Day Care Center, you don’t stop to consider whether or not the crater could be paved over and used for extra parking spaces. You wade in, fists flying, and beat the guy into a bloody pulp.
“On the other hand, it’ll take some time for the newly infected crops to mature. While we’re all waiting, millions of people would die of starvation. Even if we already had a stockpile of the new foods, we’d still have problems with distribution. Some experts believe that we already have enough food to feed everyone, we just can’t get it to where it’s needed most.
He popped a panel off the side of his contraption and peered at the thing’s innards with a dubious expression while he continued talking.
“In some of these Third World countries, you can’t get past the government corruption to help the people who need it. Then of course, you’ve got the problem of spoilage, vermin, black market sales. There are a lot of factors to consider. I can’t believe Thanatos is completely oblivious to all of that.”
“Oh.” Maybe Trav was making some sense after all.
“Oh, indeed. Besides, for a guy who took so much trouble with his outfit, his great big evil plan doesn’t have a heck of a lot of flash to it, ya know? He’s not showing off, or complicating things to prove how much smarter than everyone else he is.”
“Do you mean like Erica and that whirlpool thing she did?”
My lungs still ached over that one. I must have inhaled half the harbor before I finally stopped her.
“Yeah. The more I think about it, the more it seems to me that his demand is ridiculously low. What the hell?” He interrupted himself and stuck his hand into the open panel. There was a spark and he yelped, whipping his hand back and plunging a finger into his mouth. “Ouch,” he said sheepishly.
“How do you think I felt?” I muttered.
He snatched a wrench from his workbench, thrust it haphazardly into the machine’s innards and sort of whooshed it around.
“Let’s look at it from a different angle. What if he doesn’t think of himself as a bad guy at all? What if we’re seeing some kind of warped altruism? Maybe the money’s just a pretense. What if what Thanatos really wants is exactly the same thing Jackson and Peter want?”
“It’s still a terrorist threat, isn’t it?”
“Well, yeah. I suppose it is. But he may think that his motives are pure. If so, can you think of a better way of forcing the whole world to accept a new food source? Just spread the shit around and infect everything you can. Don’t give anybody a choice.”
“Are you sure you want to be doing that?”
“Doing what?”
“That motion with the wrench. Isn’t there a lot of delicate stuff in there? Not that I don’t have complete confidence in you, but since I’m the one bound to the table underneath it, and you’re the one battering the hell out of that thing’s insides with a heavy metal tool…”
“Honestly, Alec, you can be such an old lady sometimes.” He slid the panel closed. “But if that’s his game, why ask for ransom at all?”
He was only half concentrating on talking to me. Unfortunately, that meant he was also only half concentrating on twisting dials and flipping switches, which I found very worrisome when the ominous crackling humming sound started up again.
I shrugged as best as I could, given that I was still strapped down.
“A whim? Maybe he wants to re-decorate his lair and has expensive taste in furniture? Maybe he wants to start a designer line of skin-tight black leather casual wear? Maybe he needs to recoup a bad investment in artificial earthquake generating technology? Who knows? Evil always thinks it has a good reason for doing what it does.”
“So that’s why Captain Dirigible robs all those banks?” Travis said, sarcastically, while he continued to tinker. “He donates it all to charity.”
“I’m not talking about greed. I’m talking about thinking that the end justifies the means. Just like you said. Look at the Caterpillar, fr’instance. He wants to protect a bunch of endangered species. Wiping out the human population of half a continent is just collateral damage as far as he’s concerned.”
Travis mulled it over. I was grateful for the delay. The machine was emitting that pulsing sound again and the tip was already glowing. A moment later, he shook his head violently.
“I don’t buy it. There’s something weird about the cash. The amount isn’t just low, it’s too specific. I’m thinking he needs it for something. Heck, you can’t even take in a halfway decent heist movie nowadays where the bad guys don’t get away with half a billion in loot. We’ve got to be missing something. So long as this food virus works, there has to be another reason why he’s not making demands as outrageous as…well…as outrageous as that ridiculous cape he was twirling.”
“You noticed that, too, huh?” I couldn’t keep the longing from my voice. “It’s much more impressive than mine.”
“Don’t even think about it. You may be strong, Alec. But you are not the most graceful person on the planet. I can just see you getting that damned thing tangled around your legs at the wrong time and…”
“Yeah, yeah,” I agreed grumpily. “But a girl can dream, can’t she?”
He grunted. “Dream all you want. You ready?”
“Thanks for asking this time,” I muttered.
My eyes widened when I caught a glimpse of the sheet of cloth draped over a chair.
“Travis! Wait!”
“Chill, Alec. It’s still powering up.”
“But…”
“In any case,” he barreled right over me, “if you and I have learned anything from experience, it’s that no matter how much we think we know what the bad guys are gonna do, they end up doing something completely unexpected.”
“That’s true,” I agreed quickly and nervously. “Er, didn’t you forget something?”
“Forget something?” He paused for an instant. “I don’t think so.”
“The sheet! You forgot to cover me with the sheet!”
I barely managed to keep the panic from my voice. No matter how much I might have griped about the thin cover being a piece of crap, I was fully aware that whatever properties it possessed were the only things that had mitigated the effects of the Hot Hammer Gun. I was also abundantly conscious of the fact that, without it, nothing stood between my naked chest and a fair amount of pain.
“I have no idea what Thanatos has in store for tomorrow, but it’s not gonna be pretty. I think the Whirlwind needs to make an appearance. Besides…” He switched subjects adroitly. “We’re not using the fabric this time, Alec. I told you I need to get baselines.”
I glanced at the screen and saw that all the bars were well into the red again. The mechanism engaged with another crack! This time, it felt like a white-hot bulldozer slammed into my chest. Just before I passed out, I had time for one brief thought:
When I regained consciousness, if I caught Travis swinging another canister at my middle, I had some very definite ideas about where I was going to put it when I gave it back to him.
Chapter Ten
For an altruist like Jackson Greene, hatred was a tough emotion to muster. He was no stranger to anger, and he had long since gotten annoyance and irritation down pat. But true hatred had always been beyond him. Even in the face of some pretty despicable behavior–and Jackson had certainly seen his share of that–his instincts were to put aside enmity in favor of a better understanding about the causes that drive men to do terrible things to their fellows.
The oxygen mask, however, was a fair target.
Jackson hated it more than he’d thought it was possible for him to hate anything. True, it helped him to continu
e breathing while his lungs were failing. But Jackson had vital information for Peter and the mask made it impossible to communicate. Each time he struggled to remove it, Peter replaced it with a mild rebuke. Though he appreciated the boy’s concern for his well-being, it was driving Jackson Greene crazy.
Again, he tried to claw the mask from his face. Again, Peter stopped him.
“For heaven’s sake, Jackson, cut it out.” Peter smiled, frustrated but affectionate. “There’s nothing you have to tell me about Greene Genes that I don’t already know. You need to relax and conserve your strength.”
Unfortunately, there was still something about Feed the World, that Peter did not know, and Jackson desperately needed to tell him. How could he get rid of the damned mask? Inspired, he motioned toward the pitcher on the side table.
“Water?”
Jackson nodded. Peter poured a small amount into the plastic cup and plopped a straw into it. Holding the cup in one hand, Peter finally removed the damned mask so Jackson could drink.
“Feed the World…” the old man whispered.
“I know.” Peter shushed him. “I promise we’ll get it back on track. Don’t worry…”
“No,” he gasped. “Copy!”
Peter blinked a few times and froze with the cup of water halfway to Jackson’s mouth.
“What?”
“C…copy.” The old man motioned for the water and, once he’d moistened his tongue he drew in a ragged breath for speech. “Bradley’s house. In his safe.”
“He kept a copy?” Peter was stunned. “Sweet Jesus, Jackson! Why didn’t you say something before?”
Greene grimaced weakly. “Wasn’t thinking. The explosion…shock. Then, the drugs. Mind fuzzy. Not at my best.” He grunted and cleared his throat. “Knew there was something but…forgot what.”
“The combination?” Peter leaned forward eagerly.
“Bio…” His frail body was wracked with coughing before he could continue. “Bio-locked. DNA reader.”
He could see young Peter’s mind racing. Silently, he urged him understand how he might go about saving the project.
“There’s tons of DNA we could use! His comb, toothbrushes…”
Jackson nodded encouragement.
“We have people to code it properly, put it in the proper format…”
Jackson frowned and hoped he could communicate what he had to say. “Three-Two-Three issues.” Another coughing spasm. “Maybe Brad really solved them?”
“If that’s true…do you know what this could mean? Oh…” He blushed and looked foolish. “Of course you do.”
Peter saw him struggling to breathe and replaced the oxygen mask.
“I have to get whatever’s in that safe right away.”
“Go,” Jackson mouthed through the plastic shield. He doubted Peter heard him but his intent was abundantly clear.
“I’ll be back,” the younger man called as he raced out the door.
Exhausted from the effort, Jackson slumped against the pillows. It was up to Peter now. Knowing that there was nothing more he could do was strangely relaxing, and he drifted into sleep. When he awoke several hours later, he found that night had fallen and his pain had worsened. He needed more medication but he couldn’t find the contraption to summon the nurse.
His search for the call mechanism halted abruptly. An ominous figure stood quietly in the corner of the room. The intruder sensed that he was awake and stepped forward. The black cape rustled as it slid across the floor. Jackson knew immediately who it was.
“Did you really think,” the mechanically-altered voice whispered, “that I wouldn’t keep an eye on you?”
“No!” The word didn’t need to be fully voiced to reflect his horror.
“I’m sorry for this,” Thanatos said. “But your life is about to end anyway. There are more important things at stake.”
Gently, Thanatos removed the oxygen mask and pulled the pillow from underneath the old man’s shoulders, leaving him flat on his back. The new position made breathing even more difficult.
“I would have preferred to let Nature take her course. Unfortunately, I can’t risk the delay.”
The pillow hovered, poised above Jackson’s face. Panic gave him the strength to summon enough breath for one last cry.
“Peter!”
The pillow came down.
“I don’t think Peter Camry will be much of a problem any more, do you?” Thanatos asked.
Moments later, Jackson Greene’s feeble struggles had halted. The hated mask was back in place and the oxygen continued to flow.
It did him little good.
Chapter Eleven
Back when Old Man Lacey was alive, the Farmers Market was the most popular family weekend destination in all of Centerport County. After he passed, his daughters were neither farmers nor businesswomen and, when they couldn’t sustain the business, the property was seized for unpaid taxes. Eventually, Greene Genes leased it, converted it into a testing facility, and erected a twelve-foot-high fence around the whole place to keep out the curious. Now, the farm was off-limits to all but authorized personnel. It was here that the trial run of the new pesticide was to take place and, if Thanatos’ threat was legit, the Whirlwind needed to be on hand.
Between the scientists intent on whatever they were intent upon, and the veritable battalion of cops on hand to protect them, the area was an anthill of frenetic activity. I made a pit stop to check in with Gretchen and make sure she knew I’d arrived.
“Keep an eye out,” she said brusquely when she saw me.
“Gee, thanks Gretch. How about, ‘Great to see you! See any good movies lately? Did you ever manage to clear up that rash?’”
She responded with a scowl while she barked commands to her underlings into her walkie talkie.
“I guess I’ll just mosey up to the top of that big old barn to get a better view of the festivities, eh?”
“Water tower’s better,” she noted, and dismissed me by turning her attention back to the walkie-talkie.
I came very close to saying something about being taken for granted but, given the fervor with which she was growling commands, I figured that it was probably best not to provoke her. Instead, I hauled my tightly muscled little butt across the barnyard and up the rusty ladder to the top of the tower. Once there, I paused for a moment to strike a pose with my cape dramatically billowing behind me, and my chest inflated heroically, just in case any of the paparazzi happened to be in the area looking for a photo op.
Standing that way was not only uncomfortable but, since it meant I was fully exposed to attacks from death rays and bazookas, it was also silly. I soon abandoned it and dropped into a crouch before closing my eyes and extending my senses. If Thanatos was on the scene already, it would be a good idea for me to know about it. Unfortunately, all the busy bees rushing hither and yon were distorting any signals I could pick up. Given the interference, I’d be lucky to sense a bad guy at all before he snuck up behind me and yelled, “Boo!
It took less than an hour for the Greene Genes people to get ready, but it seemed like I was perched up there for days. Finally, the hustle and bustle faded and everyone took their assigned positions. I knew that if something was going to happen, it would happen soon. I felt a sense of foreboding and, instinctively, I scanned the ground three stories below to see if I could locate Peter just in case. No matter how many civilians might be threatened by whatever Thanatos had in mind, my first priority was damned well going to be protecting my husband. But I couldn’t spot him. Hopefully, he was tucked out of harm’s way, running things from the safety of one of the big SUVs with the huge dish antennas that were parked some distance from the barnyard.
I’m a city boy at heart. Nevertheless, I’ve watched enough Green Acres reruns, not to mention that cinema classic, Lassoed Young Cowboy Studs, to be able to identify basic farm equipment. You know, tractors, pickup trucks, windmills, cows…that sort of thing. The contraption that trundled out of Lacey’s barn was no
thing like any farm equipment I’d ever seen. The top half looked like an antique fire truck, with nozzles and hoses pointing in all directions. The bottom part had treads like a tank. Adding to the impression that Ah-nald was about to burst from the hatch, bare-chested except for some sweat and bandoliers, the driver’s cab was heavily armored. It reminded me of a mobile version of one of those bunkers you see in 1950s sci-fi movies where all the generals hang out to watch the nuclear testing.
It putt-putted toward a small plot of corn that was insulated from the rest of the fields by a tenting of clear plastic sheeting hung on a metal frame. A bunch of people in biohazard suits let it into the makeshift dome and then made quite a production number out of making sure the plastic was securely sealed behind it. A warning bell sounded and, simultaneously, a white fluid erupted from all of the nozzles, thick enough to coat the plastic and completely obscure anyone’s ability to see inside. It continued for quite a while, certainly long enough for me to have drained the hot water heater should I have taken that long of a shower at home. Eventually, the bell rang a second time, and the hoses ceased their hissing.
There was a little square area attached to one side of the dome, also covered in plastic, sort of like an airlock on a space ship. As it turned out, that was pretty much what it was. Someone in a hazmat suit, presumably the driver of the tank-like thing, exited the main part of the dome and stepped into it. Immediately, pressure hoses kicked in from all sides with enough force to knock him to his knees. He hunkered down under the onslaught and was engulfed in a small mountain of disinfectant foam. Impressed, I made a mental note to ask Peter if we could borrow the hoses and give the cars a good wash. Eventually, the spray subsided to a trickle and the man was whisked into a nearby van with a red medical cross on the side.
The test seemed to have gone off without a hitch. If Thanatos intended to pull anything, it would have to be soon. As a precaution, I extended my senses again but, even before I picked anything up, I heard the whirring sound of something mechanical quickly coming up behind me. I spun around fast enough for my cape to twirl. I stopped, stunned.
