Marvel Novels--Captain America

by Stefan Petrucha

  After keeping its shape for over fifteen million years, the rock fell forward, releasing him. As the triangles scrambled to grip him, he threw the shield. As it soared, his body contracted with it, as though the shield were another muscle. For any practical purposes, it was an extension of his arm.

  The strength behind it made the Sleeper stagger. The aim was perfect. His throw had lodged the disc between the cube’s far edge and the sphere.

  But that was only half the battle.

  Before the Skull could respond, he jumped. As he flew through the air, he activated the magnets in his glove. Though they were designed to return the shield to him, as a simple matter of physics, it was now the stuck disc that pulled him along by his hand.

  Angling his body, he hit the Sleeper so that the glove couldn’t reach the shield without digging through the sphere. The magnets’ pull coursing through his arm was agony, but it was nothing compared to what he felt when he shoved his wounded arm between the sphere and the near edge of the cube.

  It was working, so far. With his limb and the shield held in place by the inexorable tug of the magnets, the sphere was pinned inside the cube. He was confident the shield would hold—less certain about his arm. Strong as his bones and muscles were, they were still bones and muscles.

  If he saved the others, it would be worth it.

  The sphere shifted in its socket, shoving against him as it tried to disengage. Captain America held on and let his own arm break.

  29

  IF I’M GONE, I WON’T SEE ANYTHING AT ALL.

  EVER since the snaking arm burst through the containment facility wall, missing Kade by inches, he’d remained kneeling beside the gaping hole. As he watched the battle, a powerful nausea welled in his gut. He’d felt something similar in Sierra Leone. At the time, he feared he’d contracted the very virus he’d discovered. It was only when he remained healthy that he concluded the nausea was his body’s way of expressing…not guilt, for guilt would be absurd, but sadness.

  Watching Captain America struggle so valiantly, he felt it again. The closer Rogers came to defeat, the more the nausea welled.

  Kade knew the coming thermal blast would kill him, along with everyone else in the base. But rather than fear, it brought a sense of peace, of completion. It would be quick and merciful. He would die saving the world. History would never know, but Kade considered it a matter of fact that he had led a good life. He had been a good man.

  Nausea aside, he was bracing for that finality, wondering which moment would be his last, when the tide of the battle so quickly, so unpredictably, so unfairly turned.

  With a loud boom, the sphere discharged its building energy and cooled. Rogers looked so frail against the Sleeper, Kade prayed the small blast would be enough to dislodge him. But it didn’t. Instead, it only filled the air with a heavy static charge.

  Hoping to crush the clinging form, the Skull rammed cube and sphere into the cavern wall, over and over again. The space echoed with his frustrated shrieks.

  “I will have you! I will grind your body into mud!”

  The threats likely fell on deaf ears. Rogers seemed unconscious. It was possible he was dead. But even that didn’t prevent him from playing the hero. Boulders tumbled from Schmidt’s gargantuan effort, but the shield and Rogers’ arm remained intact, a frustrating piece of meat that even a god’s toothpick couldn’t reach.

  Maybe Kade should have told Captain Rogers that he had the active virus, trusted him to do the right thing. Instead, through a startling act of deluded self-sacrifice, Rogers had not only prevented the sterilizing thermal blast, but was now spreading airborne viroids from his open wounds.

  At least there was one thing Kade knew wouldn’t fail: the lethal injection. Without some miraculous shift in fortunes, the Skull would die soon. The great conflict over, S.H.I.E.L.D. personnel would leave the bunkers, creating more potential exposures. Scores of ethical issues would be raised, new decisions made.

  And once they found that agent’s body, Kade wouldn’t even be part of them.

  But if fate could pivot so quickly, it might be made to pivot again.

  The disruptor ray remained where Rogers had abandoned it, a short run from Kade’s hiding spot. The green lights on its controls made him hopeful it was again functional. If he could reach it, use it to displace the shield or the man, there still might be time for the Skull to trigger the thermal blast.

  Kade’s gut roiled.

  But by the time he climbed from the breached corridor to the ground, his attention was occupied with ducking the falling basalt. The queasiness quieted. It didn’t matter why. Once he reached the weapon, the end would be the same.

  Yet once the goal was truly in reach, the nausea rose so strongly he found himself bending over, grabbing his stomach. The timing couldn’t have been better. A piece of basalt, looking like the column of an ancient temple to some pagan god of darkness, crashed directly in front of him.

  If Kade hadn’t paused, it would have killed him.

  Though not a religious man, he felt forced to consider the idea that fate had spared him so that he could complete his plan and save the world. Newly resolved, he climbed into the disruptor’s seat. Any safeties already overridden, the controls seemed ridiculously simple. He turned it toward the giant still pounding the wall and looked through the viewfinder.

  It even provided multiple targets. Singling out Rogers was easy.

  There was still time. There had to be. He pulled the trigger.

  Nothing.

  The lights on the controls had faded. It was dead. Was it broken? Were the others watching him? Had Fury cut the power?

  His head snapped around, following the power cable where it snaked along the floor. It didn’t end at the generator, but several yards away, in the hands of his colleague.

  “Dr. N’Tomo.”

  “Dr. Kade. I’m afraid I have to override another one of your decisions.”

  Knowing she could be reasonable, he told her the truth. “Rogers was infected with the active virus all along. You have to let me stop him!”

  She swallowed hard as the news washed over her. Clearly, she understood. But would she let him do the right thing?

  “Even if that’s true, we can still deal with that through cryogenics. In time…”

  He threw himself from the seat and moved toward her. “In time? Do you hear yourself? Given the speed this viroid replication can achieve, he should be symptomatic already.”

  “But he’s not, which means there are things we still don’t know!” She straightened, calm and steady. “I saw what you did in that village.”

  His stomach twinged. “So you know. What of it? If I hadn’t, millions would have died.”

  She shook her head. “It wasn’t your decision to make.”

  “You’d rather leave the fate of our species to an unthinking virus, a machine that only knows how to make more of itself?”

  A low, metallic moaning turned him back toward the Sleeper. It was slowing. The Skull was dying. “There’s no time to argue. Get out of my way.”

  Her body shifted only slightly. She appeared to have taken some kind of martial-arts stance. “I’m a daughter of the N’Tomo clan. We’re educated in combat from the age of five.”

  He looked for a weapon. A crowbar sat on the ground. He grabbed it.

  “I can’t let you stop me.”

  He stepped into the path of one of the remaining floodlights. N’Tomo didn’t move, but her eyes went wide. Thinking she feared the crowbar, he raised his arm to swing, but found himself unable to follow through.

  He looked at her pleadingly. “My stomach…”

  He reached out, and felt himself fall. Coughing, he curled into a fetal ball, thinking it might pass. His phlegmy hacking forced his eyes shut. By the time he opened them again, he saw that the Sleeper had stopped moving.

  Worse, Rogers was no longer trapped. He stood atop the cube, the red, white, and blue of his uniform almost shining in the dark. His right
arm dangled uselessly by his side, but he held his shield with the left and used it to pry off the top of the cube.

  An electronic pop followed. The narrow opening in the sphere reappeared. The limp form of the Skull tumbled out.

  It was over.

  Too weak to stand, Kade turned back toward N’Tomo. She’d remained frozen. Her attention was shifting between him and the distant Rogers—but whenever it turned his way, Kade saw an expression he’d seen in a dozen hot zones.

  She was fighting an urge to race to his side and help.

  She didn’t give in. Instead she moved farther back and spoke into her comm.

  “I need a team in hazmat suits here, stat. Dr. Kade has to be placed in containment. He’s infected.”

  Well, then, he was wrong. The deep, gnawing nausea that gripped his abdomen hadn’t been caused by his conscience at all.

  This time it was a symptom.

  30

  AND NOTHING WANTS TO DIE.

  TWENTY-EIGHT hours later, Nia N’Tomo finally allowed herself to visit Steve Rogers. Due to her exposure to Dr. Kade, she’d been kept in their best remaining version of isolation until just over an hour ago. The last time she’d seen or spoken to Cap was during his transfer back to the sealed drone. Given the laser-focus on sterilizing the area, clearing debris, and reestablishing safety zones, S.H.I.E.L.D.’s communication system was being repaired on an as-needed basis.

  The medics had done what they could for him while encumbered by their hazmat suits. Though it was clear Steve had been hurt, the little she could see at the time suggested his uniform had taken the brunt of the damage.

  Now that he was back in isolation, in the Skull’s former chamber, she could see how wrong she had been.

  His right arm was in a sling. A cast ran from his elbow to a larger bandage that covered most of his shoulder. One eye was swollen shut. His lips were horribly distended. Deep cuts and florid bruises covered the rest of his body.

  Even so, he somehow didn’t look vulnerable, just a little…broken.

  Pleased to see her, he popped up from the hard, flat bed where he’d been trying to rest. He winced from the quick movement, but the first words that came from his puffed lips had nothing to do with his own pain.

  “Nia, are you…?”

  She nodded. “I’m fine. I was prioritized for a full scan and given a clean bill of health. The membrane held. At first we didn’t understand why it hadn’t worked for Dr. Kade, but it looks like he actually… gave his away.”

  Steve understood at once. “To Schmidt, to contain his infection. His methods went beyond the pale, but he really was trying to save lives. Where’s Kade now?”

  Nia paused, and her next words hung in the air between them. “He’s been placed in the cryo-chamber that was originally intended for you. Once I saw his scans, there was no choice. Absent the mutagenic alterations caused by the Super-Soldier serum, the virus was taking down his nervous system like wildfire.” Her face filled with that mix of awe and terror she’d felt when first imagining the possibilities. “He was right about that much, Steve. It truly is an extinction-level pathogen.”

  His expression remained fixed. “And the Skull?”

  “Cremated, along with Agent Jenner, the guard Kade killed. Before you ask, the Sleepers and the gem-shard have been sterilized and taken off-planet, though I don’t know the specifics. Colonel Fury’s been busy with a hundred details, but still took the time to notify Jenner’s next of kin.”

  He sighed. “I tried to get to him…”

  Her eyes widened. “You can’t blame yourself for that. You were a little busy! You should be grateful Fury’s not notifying all of humanity.”

  “Oh, I am,” he explained. “I’d just rather do better next time. Speaking of next time, I assume I’ll be joining Dr. Kade in the deep sleep?”

  She pursed her lips. There was no way to ignore that elephant in the room now. “Yes. A second chamber’s already arrived. Tony Stark’s that convinced the extra shielding he added will prevent anyone—or anything—from finding you.”

  His face grew wry. “At least not the same way the Sleepers found me.”

  Her instinct was to try to ease her patient’s anxiety, but she was struggling just as much with her own. “True enough, but we can’t know everything, can we? Kade predicted you’d be symptomatic by now, but you’re not. That means there’s hope. You should see the list of great minds joining together. Once you’ve been stabilized in stasis, I’ll be working with them. If the circumstances were different, I’d be terribly excited about that. But I am confident we will find that cure.”

  Without a trace of doubt, he said, “I believe you.”

  If he was feeling grim, he didn’t show it. True hopelessness seemed alien to him. Which is why she was a little surprised to hear him add, “But I also think it would be better for both of us to admit that this could be goodbye.”

  She tried to smile, but her lips only moved halfway. “For a while.”

  “Yes. For a while.”

  Worried that if she looked too long into those clear blue eyes she’d break down, she moved on. “There’s another reason I’m here. Before you go into the chamber, I want a final scan to determine the rate at which the virus is replicating. Rather than risk bringing you to the Helicarrier, we had one of the scanners installed here.”

  “I’m all yours.”

  “I’ll need you to lie back down.”

  Wincing again, he complied, stretching his bruised form along the table. Recalling what he’d said back in Somalia—that he wasn’t a mutant like Wolverine, but healed well—Nia hoped the virus wouldn’t interfere with that process.

  She manipulated some levers. A low-power hum issued from the wall.

  As he stared up at the white ceiling, whatever mask he’d been wearing seemed to drop. “I’m sorry we never decided about catching that movie.”

  Good. A little playful flirting might make it easier to say things without saying them.

  “Oh, you may not have decided, but I did, a while ago.”

  “And?”

  “I could definitely work it into my schedule, but we’d have to pick something made in the last twenty years. There’s been a recent wave of Wakandan action films I suspect would appeal even to your Western sensibilities.”

  “I’m there.” As the green lights of the scanner crisscrossed his body, he exhaled. “For my money, I wish I’d gotten to know you better, doctor.”

  “You will. Consider it a rain check.”

  His face abruptly changed. “I had a rain check with someone else once. Next time I saw her, she was eighty. She had a good life, and I’m happy about that, but I wish I’d been there for it. I’ve lost a lot of friends to the years.”

  He glanced toward her, seeking her eyes. Having no wish to add to his pain, or her own, she pretended to focus on the scanner, hoping he didn’t realize the system operated on its own. After a beat, she changed the subject again.

  “You’ve lost enemies, too, yes? How does it feel to know Johann Schmidt is finally dead?”

  His swollen lips prevented a full grin. “‘Finally’? Well, doc, the first time he was ‘finally’ dead, it was a relief. Second time, once I’d convinced myself he was really gone, that felt okay, too. Somewhere around the third time, I stopped being so sure about the ‘finally’ part.”

  Nia wasn’t sure how to absorb that. Even if they shared the same planet, Steve’s world was so different from hers. “He came back that often?”

  Raised eyebrows joined the partial grin. “I’ve lost count. Last time, he withered into a skeleton right before my eyes. That was when Zola transferred his brain patterns into my clone. In a world where you can transfer brain patterns, who’s to say Schmidt didn’t have yet another escape plan?”

  Having seen so many succumb to disease, the constant resurrection struck Nia as absurd. “If only the Agent Jenners of the world could come back again and again, instead of the super villains.”

  “Amen to
that.”

  But then the implications dawned on her. “If Zola made one clone, why not another? It would also have the virus.”

  “Something else to lose sleep over?”

  She pretended to be insulted. “I’m a field epidemiologist. There’s always something to lose sleep over.”

  The scanner beeped. “Is it done?”

  “It’s collected your data. Now the computers will search for instances of the two virus strains. How long it takes depends on how quickly they’ve been replicating. So the longer we have to wait, the better. You can sit up now, though.”

  When he did, she aimed the screen toward him so they could both watch. On it, a 3-D wire frame of his body rotated, filling in with the details of bone and viscera.

  Nia zoomed in on his right arm. “Looks like the break was clean. It’s healing already.”

  After that, the minutes passed in silence. She wondered whether there was anything else she should tell him—about her feelings, or the virus.

  When the screen finally flashed green, she yanked it closer to study the results. Her brow scrunched, but she said nothing.

  Steve was understandably curious. “Well?”

  She knew her expression wasn’t helping, but saw no point in telling him yet.

  “I want to run the scan again.”

  “Is that good or bad?”

  “I think it would be best if I didn’t say. Just lie back down.”

  He cooperated, and she ran it again. Then a third time. But she had to be absolutely sure. She double-checked the readings, double-checked her analysis, double-checked the machine, but still couldn’t accept it. By the time she asked him to lie down for a fourth run, he refused.

  “Not until you tell me what’s going on.”

  Something inside Nia let go. Her eyes grew wet. “The virus—it’s gone. There isn’t a single viroid. Not the Skull’s strain, not the original. There aren’t even antibodies. It’s as if the two strains destroyed one another. I have to check again. I have to have someone else check. I’ll want to run this by everyone at the CDC, but this is how we found the virus in the first place, and if it’s true…”