Z 2135

by Wright, David W.

  Liam looked at Liza curiously, a student of the new information. She turned back to Ana. “We worked together in City 6 a long time ago, when I was doing some work for City Watch. Then your father snuck to City 6 and asked me to come here, to help find a cure. He can’t wait to see you again; it’s all he talked about the whole way here, from City 6 to camp.”

  “Yeah,” Ana said. “I can’t believe I’m going to see him. That was all that kept me going on our way here. If I’d known he wouldn’t be here when we arrived, I probably would have turned.”

  “That’s not true,” Liam said. “I wouldn’t have let you.”

  Ana held her hands up in the air and growled. “I would’ve eaten your face, Harrow, and there wouldn’t have been anything you could’ve done to stop me.”

  He laughed.

  She added, “You’ve seen me when I’m hungry.”

  Liza watched this interplay, and started to reassess their relationship.

  “Anyway,” Ana turned back to Liza, “I was so sad when we finally got here and my dad wasn’t around. My arm started hurting again when I heard the news, but I’m sure that was my body’s way of saying it was mad like my brain.”

  Liza laughed. Ana was starting to remind her more of Jonah with each moment. Oswald had suddenly disappeared from the room, saying he had to check on something, as if he didn’t want to intrude on what he thought might be a personal moment between them. Thinking about this caused Liza to wonder if there would be many more, and if something like family was possible in a place like Hydrangea, or The Barrens.

  With a cure in the world, anything was possible.

  The door behind them opened and Sutherland stepped in. Katrina entered behind him.

  “Ladies and gentleman,” he smiled, “I’m here for remarkable news. So how is the lovely Anastasia Lovecraft? Quite cured I imagine?”

  “Not quite,” Liza said. “But maybe someday, and hopefully soon. It does look like she’s in excellent shape, and while I can’t say for certain that she’s in remission since I’ve no control to compare with, I strongly suspect she might be.”

  Sutherland looked relieved; his entire body seemed to relax. “That is good news. I am so happy.”

  He turned from Liza to Ana, and asked, “Does that help make up for the quarantine? Again, I feel I must apologize for that, though I’m sure you understand.”

  “Of course,” Ana said, “and to be honest, I don’t mind the quiet at all. I mostly feel like being alone right now, anyway. The only person I really want to be around is Liam, and it’s not like I’m quarantined from him.”

  Ana laughed and looked at Liam. They traded smiles.

  “Well, it’s a tremendous day for Hydrangea,” Sutherland said. “Katrina, would you please take our newest guests back to their quarters and make sure they get something to eat?”

  Katrina nodded and took a step toward Ana.

  Ana asked, “Any word from my dad yet?”

  “Yes, actually,” Sutherland brightened. “Everything is going according to plan. We’re waiting to hear more, but it seems your father should arrive back on schedule.”

  Ana smiled and nodded, looking both anxious and eager. Liza could only imagine how desperate she was to finally see her father.

  Liza felt the same.

  CHAPTER 46 — JONAH LOVECRAFT

  Jonah stared at the old man. He had endless wrinkles around his eyes and mouth, yet still seemed to have healthy, youthful cheeks. His color was excellent—a warm pink—and while his skin was wrinkled, it wasn’t papery.

  “How do you know me?”

  The man smiled, approaching Jonah. “We’ll get to that. First,” he said, holding out his hand for the bag, “I believe that is for me.”

  Jonah handed the bag to the man, finally relieved of his obligation.

  There. Job done. Time to go.

  The old man looked in the bag and then up at Jonah. “Perfect. Thank you.”

  “You’re welcome,” Jonah said.

  “Are you wondering what this is?”

  Jonah wasn’t sure if he should say what Sutherland had told him or not.

  “Not my business,” Jonah said. “I was asked to deliver it, and now you have it. That’s all I need to know.”

  The old man smiled as he led Jonah to two chairs on either side of a small circular table. The old man set down the bag down, then looked up at Jonah.

  “Inside that bag is a cure.”

  “A cure?” Jonah asked.

  “Yes, a cure for what ails this world. A cure for the regime’s evil ways. Yes,” he smiled, “this will most definitely make our blood healthy again.”

  Jonah didn’t want to know any more. He wanted to get out and back to Sutherland’s. He didn’t want to know who the man was or how he intended to kill Geralt, nor did Jonah want to know why the old man had been waiting for so long to meet Jonah.

  None of it mattered.

  He thought of Ana, probably back at Hydrangea right now, waiting to see him.

  “So how do I get out of here?” Jonah asked. “You have your cure, now I need to get back. My daughter is waiting for me. I don’t imagine I can leave through the front gates.”

  “Nonsense,” the old man said. “Why would you want to go anywhere when this is so exciting, here, right now? Do you not open your presents on Nativity?” He laughed again, then leaned forward, opened the bag, and began to pull out glass vials filled with light-blue liquid. He lined them in two neat rows, each with five vials, each vial sealed with a cork holding the toxins inside.

  The vials nearly twinkled from the light coming in through the window that faced the ocean.

  The old man looked at the vials with enough pride to suggest he had filled them himself, or had been waiting forever to see them. He turned to Jonah with wet eyes.

  “I am a big fan of yours, Jonah Lovecraft. Thank you so much for coming into my city, and then to my home. You, Sir, are a hero. It is a shame there’s no actual City 7. If anyone has ever deserved it, for horrors suffered in the name of his city and under the thumb of this State, it is you.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  Ever since meeting Katrina it seemed everyone around Jonah knew more about everything (including him) than he did. He couldn’t shake the feeling not only that he knew the old man, but also that the old man knew him in some way, deeper than the untold number of people across all six cities who had seen his performance in The Games.

  “You served City 6 like a man, fulfilled your role with impeccable duty and enviable honor. Then, when The State discovered you were doing your small part to keep the world safe for those standing to suffer most, they set you up for Molly’s murder and sent you to die in the bloody Games, offensive as they are. And for what, Jonah? To keep the engines of tyranny running? To keep him in power?”

  The old man broke his gaze, returning to the vials and his admiration. He ran his fingers along the glass as if waiting for Jonah to speak.

  “How do you know they set me up? Maybe I did kill her.” Jonah wasn’t sure why, but for some reason, he felt argumentative.

  The old man looked up from the vials. His eyes seemed surprised when they found Jonah’s, as if he couldn’t quite decode the question’s nature. “Well, because, I know everything. That’s my job.

  “I know that you technically killed her, but it wasn’t you who programmed it.”

  Jonah stood up, feeling close to an answer for the first time ever. Egan had told him that The State had implanted a chip in him. A chip that could control him. A chip he assumed had something to do with Molly’s death, even if it seemed impossible to fathom some man-made technology that could make him murder the love of his life, the mother of his children. “Who programmed it?”

  “Please, Mr. Lovecraft, sit.”

  Jonah sat.

  The old man continued, “I’ll give you one guess.”

  “Keller?” Jonah asked, the first name that came to mind. The man he had always assumed was somehow
complicit in Molly’s death.

  “See, you aren’t just brave, but also smart.”

  “But why the hell would Chief Keller have me kill my wife?”

  “Because you betrayed him by joining The Underground. Chief Keller is a very bitter man, particularly since losing his son. He doesn’t take kindly to a spy in his nest.”

  Jonah felt like he was going to throw up. “But why kill Molly? She didn’t do anything.”

  “He wanted to hurt you. Wanted to disgrace you, and couldn’t tell The City that his top Watcher had joined The Underground. So he had to eliminate you in another way.”

  The old man then said, “But if you need someone to blame, someone other than Keller, blame the man who gave the command.”

  “Who?” Jonah asked.

  “Jack Geralt, of course.”

  Jonah didn’t know if the old man was lying, or just trying to woo Jonah to his cause.

  “Who are you?” Jonah asked, feeling certain he’d seen the old man somewhere before.

  “My name is Denton Sinclair. And, I’m horrified to admit, I am one of the men responsible for the sad state of your world.”

  The room felt suddenly heavier. Jonah replayed the old man’s words in his head and came back with the same thing twice.

  “What are you talking about?”

  The old man said, “I am nearly two hundred years old.”

  Jonah stared in shock. Extreme old age wasn’t unheard of in City 1—those were the rumors, anyway. Jack Geralt was supposed to be nearing that impossible age himself, though no one seemed to know for sure. The State celebrated Jack Geralt Day in honor of his birthday, but his actual date of birth was detailed only as “Before Plague.” Even if such extreme old age was possible in City 1, Jonah had never seen anything like it.

  “Back in 1975 I was part of a government program called Everlast. We had developed a way for humans to live for hundreds of years. It sounds great,” he said, seeing Jonah’s reaction, “but this was at a time when the world’s natural resources were nearly depleted. Earth was ever on the verge of the next world war, prepared to fight over scraps. Why would anyone want to live forever when the world was becoming more difficult to survive? We knew that if we didn’t do something, it was only a matter of time before someone destroyed everything. So we gathered a tiny percentage of the population, then spread out in six huge underground bunkers in what was then known as the United States. We were just more than sixteen thousand of the country’s best, brightest, healthiest—the ones most capable of repopulating a planet primed to thrive. Then, in 1981, we unleashed the virus … and ended everything.”

  Jonah stared at the man, horrified. He couldn’t have managed a word, even if he wanted to.

  “The virus was everywhere. In a matter of days, outbreaks were scattered across the planet. It was a pandemic unlike anything seen before. After the first month, most of the planet was eating itself. The minority who didn’t turn to zombies were left to fight the one war to end them all. Then, soon enough, they were all gone and there was nothing outside the bunkers but walking dead. Just like that, humanity was mostly memory, wiped to nearly nothing. Just those six bunkers.”

  “How could you do that?” Jonah finally managed, horrified. “How could you murder millions of people?”

  With no expression, the old man corrected Jonah.

  “Billions.”

  Jonah felt weak, near collapse.

  “Why are you telling me this?

  The old man didn’t respond. Instead, he stood, went to a shelf with a large paper bag, and brought it back to the table. He pulled out a pair of chambray pants and a crisp white shirt, loose-fitting like Percy’s. “I’ll need you to put this on. My driver will give you a belt and a shock stick.”

  Jonah wanted to know why the old man was giving him a City Watch uniform, and assumed it was for his exit out of City 1. But before that, he wanted to know why the old man was sharing his secrets.

  “Why are you telling me all this?” Jonah repeated.

  “This is my confession. I don’t have much longer, not here in City 1, or anywhere else. Our miracle drug slowed the aging process, but it can’t stop it entirely. I’m dying. The original among us, save for Geralt and a few others, are mostly dead.”

  “So why am I here?”

  “To right what went wrong. Jack Geralt is the man who developed the virus. He is the father of the zombies, the architect of death. He must die, and we must bring down this empire he’s built—that I helped build. This is not the world he promised. America was nothing like this. It was the land of the free, home of the brave. Geralt turned it into a mockery, using fear as a prison. Using his Watchers to murder dissent.”

  Jonah stared, trying to absorb the scope of the old man’s story.

  Sinclair continued, “I want to bring down this government, replace it with one by the people, and for the people. The men responsible for unleashing the virus so many years ago are still in power, their principles driving The State. It must stop. I must do my part to end it before I leave. The leaders are gathered together at High Tower with some elders from the cities this week, for a conference. Little do they know it will be their last.

  “Please, Jonah,” the old man gestured to the folded clothes. “Put on the uniform.”

  Jonah put his hand on the fabric—so soft.

  “Why am I putting this on? Is this my ticket out?”

  “You’re going to get on the train leading toward the City 1 watchtower. You will walk the train’s length in uniform, slowly releasing the virus. It is simple. You press a button. Liquid turns to gas; history is changed. This is a variant of Geralt’s original virus; it will spread and destroy everyone in City 1 just as quickly as we wiped out the world.”

  The old man tapped the glass vials in a row, like keys on a xylophone.

  Jonah yelled, “The hell I am!”

  “Oh, but you will, Mr. Lovecraft.”

  He could feel the threat radiating from the old man’s body. The room was surely armed and capable of turning him to vapor at a blink.

  “I am not going to infect innocent people. You’ll have to kill me.”

  The old man shook his head, amused. “No, no, no. There’s no need for violence, Jonah. That isn’t the way here. Besides, I’ve seen how good you are with your back against the wall. Why else do you think I asked you to do this job?”

  “If you do this, how do you know it won’t spread to the other cities? How do you know you won’t destroy the entire world again?”

  Sinclair said nothing.

  “Oh my God,” Jonah said. “Is that your goal?”

  “We have some of our people hidden away, underground fittingly enough. They’ll restore power to The City once it falls. They’ll kill any zombies left, and any remaining resistance. Given The Walls, and distance from the other cities, I don’t see infection spreading again.”

  “Still,” Jonah said. “I can’t do this. These people are innocent.”

  Sinclair turned to the wall and gestured. It went from a warm white to full color, suddenly filled with a video of Sutherland standing in front of his many reds and golds.

  No, not a video, but a live broadcast.

  Sutherland looked at Jonah, and smiled, “Hello, Jonah. So sorry that you’re on the wrong side of deceit yet again. But I’m afraid I have no choice but to lean on you for this one final favor. Please, accept my apology and word that you will not be harmed. We’ve prepared an antidote for you and a select number of people who will help us return City 1 to its former glory.”

  “Antidote? You mean you all can cure this? Why the hell did you need Dr. Liza?” Jonah asked. Nothing was making sense.

  Sutherland said, “Antidote isn’t the same as a cure. And this is a variant we’ve created, which we can better control. While we feel we’re close to a cure for the original virus, we needed Dr. Liza to ensure our success. And now, Jonah, we just need you to do this one last thing.”

  One last thing. Always
one last thing.

  Jonah snarled. “Fuck you, Sutherland. You too, Grandpa.”

  Sutherland sighed. “I was afraid you’d say that.”

  Sutherland clicked something in his hand and his broadcast cut to something else—Ana sitting beside Liam in a large room, about twice the size of a City Watch holding cell. The room appeared perfectly comfortable, with neat furniture and full pillows, but they were prisoners and the red light above the door proved it.

  The broadcast from the room cut out and Sutherland returned, faux sympathy on his face. “Yes, Jonah. She’s here, and quite well … at the moment. I truly hate to do this, Jonah, but I know what a good man you are. And how you might need some pushing to do the truly right thing. I don’t want to be dramatic and tell you all the horrible things I can do to Ana. You’re a smart man, I’m sure you can imagine.”

  Jonah hated the fucker, more even than he hated Keller.

  You couldn’t reason with monsters. Jonah tried anyway.

  “Why kill tens of thousands of innocent people? That doesn’t make sense! We can go after those in power. That will be enough to open the doors to City 1 so you can do what you want, just like you said. I’m on board for that, Sutherland. I’m a willing soldier, and you have all of me. I’ll do what’s right, and not just because you’re holding my daughter. You’re right, this must end, and power must be returned to the people.

  ”But you can’t ask me to kill thousands of innocents, not even to save my daughter.”

  Jonah looked down, drew a deep breath, then stared at Sutherland from across many miles and through the cleanest wall screen he’d ever seen.

  Sutherland frowned, “There are no innocents. Every person in City 1 is a direct descendant of the monsters who murdered the world. Each deserves to die.”

  “You can’t expect me to do it. I won’t. I could never live with myself.” Jonah said. “You’re not evil, Sutherland. I don’t believe that. You know Ana’s innocent, and you know I’m innocent too. We’re good people trying to do the right things. I’ve looked into your eyes, and I don’t believe you’ll kill my daughter.”

  Sutherland said, “You would be making compelling points if any mattered. But they don’t, Jonah. Your thinking is small. When you’re speaking of a species’ future, tiny numbers matter not at all. You must think only in terms of future and past. The moment you decide you’re unwilling to help safeguard our future, you are part of the past and an impediment to all that is coming, Anastasia included. We don’t have food to feed what won’t be here tomorrow.