Epic: Book 02 - Outlaw Trigger

by Lee Stephen

  “How did we not see this?” asked Castellnou. For the first time, his tone was repressed.

  “He allowed us to die,” said Archer, “so he could restock Novosibirsk with his own.”

  Rath leaned back speechless in his chair.

  Castellnou turned to Pauling. “We are here for months, and we don’t figure this out? And now Archer is here for ten minutes, and he puts it all together?”

  Pauling, deep in thought, waved him away. “Javier, please, for one moment.”

  Castellnou’s nostrils flared. “Are we really that incompetent?”

  “Javier,” Rath said, “please calm down.”

  “I’m sorry,” said Archer, “I didn’t intend to cause disagreement. This could have easily been missed. I just so happen to excel at detail.”

  “This is on you,” Castellnou said, pointing to the president. “You let Thoor get away with too much. Now he is killing us!”

  Blake looked at Castellnou disapprovingly. “Please, Javier, you know this is a complex situation.”

  “How complicated can it be?”

  Pauling’s eyes remained disjointed. He stared blankly at the table.

  Grinkov leaned close to Torokin. “He is losing it.”

  Torokin said nothing.

  “How did we miss this?” Pauling whispered to no one.

  “It wasn’t your fault, sir,” Blake said.

  Castellnou pointed at the president. “You are too scared to stand up to him! You are too afraid he will want to fight you!”

  Pauling flinched as Castellnou fired on.

  “We have told you time and time again, yet you do not listen! These deaths are on you!”

  Blake pounded his fist on the table. “Veck, Javier! Bloody shut up!”

  Castellnou finally went silent.

  An eerie lull took over the conference room. The eyes of the High Command lingered on the president.

  Torokin watched Pauling as he sat there, eyes glossed over as he stared at the table in disbelief. Torokin himself found this hard to believe. For the president, it had to be worse.

  “Benjamin,” Pauling said, his gaze shifting to Archer. His voice was different. It was old. “Will you take charge of this new investigation?”

  Archer bowed his head submissively. “However I can be of assistance, Mr. President.”

  Pauling sat back. The room fell quiet again.

  “It wasn’t your fault, Mr. President,” said Blake. “Most of us had thought just as you.”

  Pauling failed to acknowledge them. His stare remained blank as the wall monitor behind him flickered. The death toll was replaced by the EDEN logo.

  The president was hurting—Torokin knew it. For the first time in as long as he could remember, Carl Pauling looked like his age. He looked like a defeated man.

  “We’re going to dismiss for the time being,” the president finally said. “We’ll reconvene when Ben’s report is finished. And we’ll address this situation. For real, this time.”

  Castellnou glared.

  “You’re all dismissed.”

  There was a moment of reluctance before a quiet round of yes sirs filtered his way. As Torokin and Grinkov rose, they exchanged a brief but knowing glance. In a single session, the confidence of their leader had been shattered. In a single session, they had all been shown as fools.

  Benjamin Archer.

  Within a minute, the conference room was abandoned. Only the EDEN logo orbited in the background as President Carl Pauling sat alone.

  He crossed his arms on the table and cried.

  11

  Sunday, August 7, 0011 NE

  0944 hours

  Novosibirsk, Russia

  The morning after her death

  Scott wasn’t sure at what time he had awoken. He wasn’t sure he’d ever been asleep. The line between conscious and unconscious was nothing but a blur. He had no idea what time it was. He didn’t care.

  Nicole hadn’t been on his mind. Nicole was his mind. She was his heart. She was everything he had ever known. The moment he realized he was awake, denial began to set in.

  She wasn’t dead. She was right there beside him, wrapped in his arms beneath the covers of the very bed they had lain in yesterday. He could feel her. He could reach out and touch her skin, run his hands through her hair. He could see the sparkle in her eyes.

  He could hear her say that she loved him.

  Tears welled beneath his lids, as the truth once again wrestled out. Her skin wasn’t there to be felt. There were no eyes to sparkle. There was no girl to love him. There was only the scent of her ghost.

  How could You? How could You take her away? I did everything You ever asked of me. His fingers curled around his pillowcase. Saline shimmered in his eyes. Everything was fine. I was here. She came. You brought us together.

  He curled his legs up to his chest as his neck muscles strained. He couldn’t hold back the tears. As hard as he forced them back, they broke forth in liquefied grief.

  How could You do this? How could You kill her? How could You feed us this lie?

  Was this destiny? What was destiny? It was a joke. It was a joke from a cruel-hearted God. Destiny had brought him to EDEN. Destiny had brought him to Russia. What had destiny done for her?

  I only wanted one thing. I never asked for anything else. Only that one thing that You said I could have. That You told me I could have. And You had to take it away…just to prove that You could.

  Damn You.

  He had never thought about suicide before. The thought had never crossed his mind. But what reason did he have to live now? Not her. Not himself. Surely not God.

  He knew the risk of self-murder: Scripture’s ultimate unanswered mystery. Eternal loss? Separation forever? He could live with that.

  “Scott?”

  The voice startled him. It spoke beside his bed. As his eyes opened and his ears perked, he focused to register it again.

  “Scott…are you awake?”

  It was Galina. She had stayed with him. She had stayed in his chamber throughout the night. It was a pathetic irony. In all their years together, Nicole and he had never slept in the same room. That rule had now been broken on the day of her death. Broken with some other woman.

  He knew he would see Galina if he turned around. She would be there, with her butch haircut and her pointed face, staring at him as if he were some bug under a microscope. But at least she’d stayed with him. At least she hadn’t forsaken him.

  And yet Galina hadn’t been able to do anything either. She’d sat alongside Nicole’s body like a helpless fool. With all of her knowledge, with all of her science, she hadn’t been able to do a thing. Not one single thing. She was at the mercy of the Silent Fever.

  The phrase repeated in his mind.

  The Silent Fever. It had killed Nicole. Just like it had Joe Janson. Except she was nothing like Joe Janson. She was a white female, Joe was a black male. She was a civilian, he was a soldier. She’d just arrived, he’d been there for weeks. Where was the connection?

  Something wasn’t right. Something didn’t add up. She had been at Novosibirsk for barely a day. How could she have become infected? Barely a day. Scott had been there for months. Everyone else had been there for months. The civilian airbus? No, she couldn’t have caught anything on that. The Silent Fever was only in Novosibirsk. Only in Novosibirsk.

  A disease. A virus. An unknown sickness that struck without warning. That struck completely at random. That struck her in one day when it had avoided the rest of them for months, and for some even years.

  No.

  Something wasn’t right at all.

  There was a knock at the door. It was barely a knock at all. He listened as Galina answered it.

  One day. That was all it had taken to kill his fiancee. To rip her life away as if it was nothing at all. To destroy six years of purpose.

  One single day.

  It was more than wrong. It was foul. Joe Janson had been perfectly healthy, and so had Nico
le. Full of life to total death, in thirty minutes. What could do that? Venom. A bite. But there was no bite on Nicole. There were no marks at all. Full of life to total death, in thirty minutes. How could that be? How could no one have figured it out yet? How could no one have a cure?

  His thoughts were interrupted as Galina leaned closer to whisper. “Scott…someone is here to visit you.”

  Still, his thoughts stormed ahead. What could take a perfectly healthy girl from living to dead in thirty minutes? He rolled his head around, where Galina’s form came into view. Esther stood right beside her. Her dark hair was damp from a morning shower. He recognized her musk nonetheless.

  Galina said apologetically, “I am sorry if I woke you…I thought you might already be awake…”

  Esther hesitated, the corner of her mouth teetering between a smile and a frown. “Good morning, sir…”

  Nothing natural could kill a girl like Nicole in thirty minutes. Not like that. Not that unexpectedly.

  Esther looked back at Galina, who placed a hand on the younger woman’s back.

  If it wasn’t something natural, then it was something unnatural. It was something intended. There was no Silent Fever. Not like everyone thought there was. There had to be something else to it. There had to be something different.

  He watched as Galina and Esther moved away. He listened as they whispered to one another. They thought he was crazy. They thought he had lost his mind. That he was somewhere far away.

  He wasn’t gone. He was more there than they knew.

  The Silent Fever. The selective plague of Novosibirsk. Something was doing the selecting.

  Esther sighed in apology and stepped from Scott’s bed. He hadn’t responded to her introduction. He watched as Esther turned to the door.

  Something was doing the selecting. Something far beyond the realm of the natural world. Something had hidden itself from explanation. Nobody knew what the Silent Fever was. That in itself was unacceptable.

  Completely unacceptable.

  He had to find it. Whatever it was, he had to find it. Whether it was a cause, a thing, a person. He had to uncover its purpose. But how? He was nothing but a soldier.

  He watched as Esther eased open the door and slipped out into the hallway. Esther. Esther Brooking, their scout from Philadelphia, had come to visit him. Their scout from Philadelphia.

  Tactical observations.

  She was the one that he needed.

  His mouth was in tune with his thoughts. “Stop.” Esther and Galina froze. They started around to face him. Scott’s eyes fixated on Esther as she stood motionless in the doorway. “Stay here.”

  Esther turned her head, releasing her hand from the knob.

  Galina tried to smile. “I am sorry, Scott. I did not know you were—”

  “You can leave.”

  Galina blinked.

  Scott repeated as he stared at the medic, “You can leave.”

  Galina reached out to him. “Maybe we should get you something to eat—”

  “Get out, now!”

  Both women flinched back. Galina stuttered then nodded her head. “Da, lieutenant.”

  As Galina abandoned the room, Esther eased her way in. She stared with nervous uncertainty.

  “Close the door.”

  “Yes sir.” Esther clicked the door shut. Galina was left in the hall.

  Scott flung the sheets from atop him; he sat upright on his bedside. He gave no mind to the fact that he was shirtless. Her comfort was not his concern.

  Esther swallowed as she maintained her distance. “I’m sorry, sir, I just came to see how you were doing. We’re all very worried…”

  His arm muscles flexed as he pushed himself up. His EDEN-issue sweatpants were wrinkled. “The Silent Fever. What is it?”

  She stared in bewildered silence. “Sir, I don’t know—”

  “I know you don’t know.” He began to track toward her. “But that’s what you’re going to find out.”

  She backed into the wall. “I’m sorry, sir, I don’t think I understand…”

  There was nothing to misunderstand. His intentions were simple and plain. “The Silent Fever killed my fiancee. You’re going to find out what it is.”

  She raised her arms to cover her chest as he leaned forward and invaded her personal space. She quivered for the first time, finding herself forced back against the brick. “But sir, I don’t know what I can—”

  “You’re a Type-2 scout! Tactically observe!”

  She started at his volume, as her teeth clenched in fear.

  “I don’t care how you find out. I don’t care what you have to do. I don’t care who you have to kill. But you’re going to find out. And then, you’re going to tell me.” There was no room left for discussion. “Is that understood?”

  She stood there, her body shaking as her hands protected her chest from the unbridled force of his presence. When she finally spoke, her trembling covered her words. “Yes, sir…”

  Scott stepped backward. Her personal space was released. “Get it done.”

  She stayed against the wall for several seconds before nodding and facing the door. Her fingers searched for its knob. She was emotional. When she finally found the handle, she gave it a turn.

  Galina glanced in from the hallway. As soon as Esther slipped out, the medic hurried into the room. “Scott?”

  Scott was already by his closet. His time for mourning had passed. His lust for the truth had taken its place. “I no longer require supervision,” he said, grabbing his jersey.

  “I…are you sure? We do not mind staying with you—”

  “If you make it a habit to question me, I will make it a habit to punish you.”

  Galina’s mouth hung open.

  “Inform the captain that I am returning to active duty. I expect a private memorial for Nicole before she’s sent back.”

  “Yes, lieutenant.”

  “Tonight.”

  She nodded again.

  He zipped up his jersey and laced up his boots. “That’s all I need from you. You can leave.”

  She stood in the doorway for a moment before bowing her head in submission. Without a word, she back-stepped into the hallway and softly shut the door behind her.

  Scott finished his lacing, rose, and turned to the mirror by his sink. For the first time since Nicole’s death, he looked at his face. His eyes were shadowed by circles. His glare burned clear through the glass. Tiredness screamed from his face, as it hardened the skin around his mouth. No…it wasn’t tiredness at all. It was wrath.

  The lion was mad.

  * * *

  Becan shook his head beneath the hot rush of water. With the Fourteenth’s morning workout then finished, the customary assault of the shower stalls was in full swing. As courtesy stated, the women were allowed to go first. Now, it was Becan, Travis, and Oleg who stood behind the curtains. Most of the others had already left.

  Becan sputtered as water cascaded down his face, then he stepped from beneath the flow to slick back his brown locks. “I hate Dostoevsky week.” He reached beneath the spray to grab his soap.

  Travis grimaced from behind the adjacent stall. “The only thing worse than Dostoevsky week is an extra day of Dostoevsky week.”

  “Bleedin’ righ’,” said Becan. With Scott temporarily relieved, the commander had taken his place that morning for the workout session, one day earlier than he was scheduled. “So much for a mournin’ period.”

  “When do you think Scott’ll be back?”

  “I don’t know. Remmy’s a tough one, he is. But I can’t imagine wha’ he must be goin’ through.”

  “I hope he comes back soon.”

  “Me, too.”

  Oleg bathed in silence.

  As Becan lathered the soap in his hands, the door to Room 14 swung open. “Didn’t know annyone was still ou’ there,” he said at the sound.

  “I don’t think anyone was,” said Travis.

  From the silence of the unseen bunk area, a
timid voice quivered forth. “Becan?”

  Becan’s hands stopped in mid-lather. “Esty?”

  Esther exhaled a breath. “I need to talk to you.”

  “Righ’,” Becan said, rinsing the soap from his arms. “Is somethin’ wrong?”

  “Yes. Please, come and find me in the lounge.”

  “I will, righ’ away.”

  Within a minute, all three men—Becan, Travis, and Oleg—were out of the showers and in front of their closets. They pulled on their jerseys over their still-damp bodies and quickly made their way to the lounge. Esther sat alone at a table in the back corner—there was no one else there.

  “Wha’s wrong, Esty?” Becan asked, lowering into the chair beside her.

  Esther’s face was flushed, and she drew in a calming breath. Her eyes flitted between the three men, before they settled on the Irishman. Her fingers played in nervousness. “It’s about Lieutenant Remington.”

  Becan and Travis swapped a look. “How is he?” Travis asked.

  Her eyes darted between them and the door. Only when she was sure no one else would walk in did she take a breath and speak. “He’s gone mad. He…” Her words trailed off.

  “Esty, wha’ is it?”

  “He came upon me, and he ordered me to find out about the Silent Fever. I think he suspects something.”

  “Righ’, I think most o’ us do.”

  “But that’s not all he said. He was steaming. He told me that he didn’t care what I had to do to find out. And he didn’t care who I had to kill.”

  Travis’ eyes widened. “Scott said that?”

  “He did.”

  Becan shook his head and leaned back. “It’s not like him to say somethin’ like tha’.”

  “He told me to find out, then to report what I’d found to him.”

  Travis turned to look at Becan. “Do you think Scott would do something? I mean like…something bad?”

  “He just lost the love o’ his life. Wouldn’t you do somethin’?”

  “I don’t know what to do,” Esther said. “I only went to see if he was well.”