by William Bebb
The woman behind the steering wheel of the SUV behind the RV looked familiar. But it was the little girl sitting in the passenger seat that she recognized first. Smiling broadly, she shouted “Morning!” and waved at them while walking closer.
Jumping out of the car, Shannon Mendez ran around to the sidewalk and smiled back but with more than a touch of concern on her face. “Miss Taylor, what are you doing out of the hospital?”
“Hospitals are for the sick and dying and I ain't either of those.” She looked up at the sky saying, “Thank you, Jesus,” then smiled weakly at Shannon. “I see you met up with, Miss Betty. How are you two doing this beautiful morning?”
Betty looked through the open passenger side window saying, “I am fine.”
“We're both okay but really now, tell me, did the doctors say you could go home?” Shannon asked.
“Them doctors don't know diddly squat. Bunch of overpaid pill pushers is all they are. After they poked and fiddled with my head for a few hours they said some fool thing about second degree burns and gave me a tube of some foul smelling gunk. I'm supposed to rub it on top of my head for a few weeks then come back and let them take another peek.
But they can kiss my ass if they think I'm gonna come all the way back here again. Must be at least seventy miles twixt here and Ragland. Besides, one of the nurses gave me this here scarf to wear. Ain't it beautiful?” Allison asked, stroking the long dangling piece of material tied under her chin.
Shannon nodded, and looked at the girl who wasn't really a girl as she got out of the car.
“It is very nice. Miss Taylor, are you familiar with the religious tradition of laying on of hands?” Betty asked.
“My grand daddy swore it worked when some folks at a church prayed over him and laid their hands on him. He said his Syphilis went away a few days later. Course, I believe it was more the medicine he took than the prayers that cured him. Why do you ask, child?”
“May I try?” Betty asked, stepping closer holding out her hands.
“You're a sweet child but no thank you. If the Good Lord saw fit to let me be snatched bald and toasted up top a bit that's his will.”
“As you wish,” the girl said, lowering her hands to her sides.
“Well, it was nice seeing you both again. You two have a nice day. I got some long miles of walking before I get home. My cat's probably worried sick about me,” Allison said, before waving and turning to walk away.
“Wait. I can drive you home in a little while,” Shannon said quickly.
“If you're sure it ain't no bother, I guess I could wait a spell. Might just amble down to the railroad park a few blocks away. I heard it's pretty and haven't had a chance to see it yet. But, if you ain't there by noon I'm gonna start walking home, for sure. Mister Jackson must be mighty lonely.”
“I'll be there, I promise. See you later.”
Allison called back over her shoulder, “See ya,” as she walked away.
After the old woman was out of earshot, Agent Mendez looked at the girl. “I'm curious about something. How do you people judge someone like Allison? She's not a bad person. Would you kill her too?”
“She is not a bad person, you are right. But neither is she constructive with her life. From the data gathered on her, she would not be saved.”
“So, this anti virus you spoke of earlier she wouldn't be given it?”
“No.”
“I don't understand. A few minutes ago you asked to try and help her injuries, but now you say she's not worth saving. I thought you said it was the destructive or dangerous people that would make your viral warfare necessary. What's wrong with her? Why does she deserve to die?” Mendez asked in confused frustration.
“It is not as simple as being a good person. Our criteria for inoculation is much more complicated than that. An analogy might help you to understand.
If a large ship were sinking, who would you see put into a life boat? Children who have their whole lives ahead of them filled with great potential, or an old woman that amounts to very little except perhaps to her cat?”
“I'd recognize that inhuman, some might say monstrous philosophy anywhere. So, now they've moved up from roaches to a nearly full size robotic monstrosity. With apologies to William Shakespeare, A Trojan horse by any other name would smell as foul,” a tired voice called from a slightly open window near the rear of the RV.
Mendez looked up at the window, asking, “Who are you?”
“You should just call me, Judas, traitor of all mankind,” the tired voice called again.
“That would be Professor James Anniston. He is the man I told you about,” Betty explained.
A soft sigh came from the window before the voice continued, “Come on in. I'll wake the others. Did you happen to bring along my fee of thirty pieces of silver?”
As they walked to the RV's door, the girl looked up at Mendez. “He is having a difficult time coping with the situation.”
“And, you think I'm not?” Shannon asked, as she knocked on the door.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN: Birmingham Blues
“You shouldn't be up. You're going to get me in trouble with the doctor,” a nurse whined in a futile attempt to stop Amalia Armstrong from pulling on her blue jeans.
Armstrong eyed her bloody shirt stuffed in a plastic bag laying on the shelf for a moment before tucking the hospital gown into her pants and reaching for her boots. “You can stand there and bitch at me or help me with my boots, either way I'm leaving,” Amalia said, while trying to find a less painful way of leaning over. The pain from being shot was temporarily tamped down by the drugs, but she certainly didn't want to rip out any stitches if it could be avoided.
The nurse stood irresolute as Amalia wiggled a foot into one of the boots for a moment before bending over and helping her. “I don't know what you think you can do out there. The alarms and sirens have been off for at least twenty minutes. Whatever happened is over now.
You should just stay in bed. Besides, I heard just a while ago, we're transporting patients to Birmingham hospitals before the quarantine perimeter is lifted at noon.”
“Rumors and sirens are never a good sign, nurse. Do you know where they put my weapon?” Amalia asked, as they finished slipping on the first boot and moved to the next one.
“It's locked up in the head nurses station, along with your cell phone. You'll have to sign to get them out.”
Amalia stood up and clomped loudly down the corridor as the nurse struggled to keep up.
A few minutes later she stood outside with her shoulder holster strapped over her appropriated hospital gown shirt and speed dialed Agent Hicks. She heard the phone ring several times before the system shuttled the call to voice mail. Grunting in frustration, she hung up and tried Agent Mendez's number as she crossed over to Finches Restaurant where her temporary office was.
After getting another voice mail message she swore some very unladylike words that prompted a few nearby soldiers to chuckle as they continuing to load one of the trucks.
Expecting to smell hamburgers grilling as she entered the restaurant, Amalia was surprised by the bleach fumes and emptiness of the place. No one was behind the counter and the floors were still spotty from where someone had recently mopped up.
Turning toward her office door, she felt like screaming when she saw not only was the guard gone but the whole door as well. What the Hell is going on? She wondered angrily as she stomped into her office.
“Hi,” Agent Hicks said, looking up briefly as he placed a stack of manila folders into a cardboard box.
“Hi? That's all I get? And why haven't you been answering your phone? And why are you wearing that? And what the Hell are you doing?” Amalia sputtered as she crossed over to where he sat behind her desk.
“Good to see you, too. Last question first; I'm packing up because the field office in Birmingham has ordered us back to the big city. I'm wearing this spiffy athletic suit I borrowed because my suit was covered in a paste of dried shit t
hat I felt was unbecoming of an agent to wear.
It's over there in that garbage bag if you don't believe me and wanna take a whiff. As to my phone; a redneck who kidnapped me left it somewhere in the woods near Ragland.”
She stood speechless for several seconds as he continued to pack up files. She started to speak a few times, but they were false starts. Finally, she managed to ask, “Where's Mendez? She won't answer her phone either.”
He stopped working and looked up. “She hasn't checked in? Last I saw of her was when she was taking some kid into Birmingham to catch up with her family. Her grandparents were messed up by the same prince of a guy that kidnapped me. I thought she'd have checked in by now.”
“Okay, I'll call the field office and see if they've heard from her in a second but first tell me who stole the door to my office?”
*****
“Just tell me, is it radioactive or not?” Abrahms asked for what felt like the twentieth time.
Dr. Everson grunted in exasperation before trying to explain again, “It is extremely radioactive, but the areas affected seem to only be the twisted ends of the trailer that remain. Think of it as a stove top burner. The whole stove isn't hot; just the burner when it's switched on.”
“Yes, I get that but what I'm asking is it safe to move it. I've asked Washington for an extension on the noon pullout time and they said no. So, can we move it without being exposed to the radiation?”
“If you've got some lead lined sheet-like material, maybe two or three mils thickness, someone could probably wrap up the twisted ends and seal the hot areas. Then I'd advise you to find a safe place to store it until a final resting place is found. Preferably, far away from my home in Mountain Brook. Now, can I please go to bed? I've filled out the report you asked for and the Geiger counter shows I'm clean.”
Sitting behind the wheel of his Hummer, Abrahms looked over at the exhausted professor sitting next to him and sighed before asking, “Any idea where I could find something like you're talking about? You know, the lead lined sheets?”
Everson chuckled and shook his head. “I just assumed the military would have something like that since there was a nuclear blast only a few miles from here, less than a week ago.”
“The guys working in the hot zone at the site have lead lined uniforms but no sheets or anything like that as far as I know.”
Everson smiled saying, “That's even better. Have them send you some of them and dress some lucky volunteer in one of the suits. He goes over and wraps the ends of the trailer up in the other suits. Seal it up with a few rolls of duct tape and it should be safe to move, at least temporarily.”
“But we'd need at least a dozen suits to seal up the ends.”
“From what I saw on the Geiger counter reports the highest radioactive zone is at the tips, where the trailer got twisted and the middle section, um...disappeared. It seems uniquely localized, the radiation I mean, just around the tips. Seal up the last foot or two of it and the pieces should be relatively safe to move,” Everson said yawning.
Abrahms patted Everson's shoulder and said, “I'm going to call for the suits and other equipment. If it works I'll be taking you back home myself, but for now I want you here by my side. Okay?”
“Why do I feel like I've been drafted?” he grumbled while leaning his head against the passenger seat and closing his eyes.
*****
“Where's my son?” Jim Carver asked, fighting down the temptation to scream the question at the nurse making up the bed Jake had been in last night.
“It's all right, Mr. Carver, he's been moved to a private room. The doctor ordered him moved out because he's no longer in danger. He's in room 517, on the fifth floor.”
“Thanks, sorry if I came on a little strong but it's been a rough time,” he said, turning and carrying a suitcase in one hand and a large bag of fast food in the other.
“No worries, plus I heard the exterminators just treated that floor last week so there shouldn't be any more creepy crawlies running around. It's weird, I've been here for almost four years and never saw a roach here before, but I've seen three of them in the last few hours. Hopefully they'll spray up here soon too. They really creep me out.”
“You might not want to mention bug problems to relatives or patients. It doesn't reflect too well on the hospital,” Jim whispered, before waving goodbye and heading for the elevators.
*****
Alice watched the bleary eyed Professor Anniston as he glared at the young girl who had been escorted in by an FBI agent and wondered why the usually sweet old man had such an obvious if not barely contained hatred for her. She then glanced at Trevor sitting sideways in the driver’s seat. He looked worried but if the FBI was here maybe she should be concerned too. She tried to think of any laws they'd broken since they left the quarantine zone and drew a blank.
After Agent Shannon Mendez introduced herself and the girl had given her name, the atmosphere was oddly tense as everyone exchanged looks while waiting for someone to speak first.
Aside from glaring at the girl, Anniston toyed with his coffee cup and tapped his fingers of his seemingly miraculously healed hand on the kitchen table.
The agent was staring outside through the windshield while standing in front of the closed and locked side door.
I'm going to scream if this keeps up, Alice thought, before deciding to try and break the ice. Smiling at the pretty young girl, she said, “I really like your hair. Mine looked a lot like that when I was your age. I'm sure you must have trouble with boys always asking you out on dates, right?”
“Thank you for saying my hair is nice. As for boys, I am not interested in them,” Betty said.
Professor Anniston shook his head and glanced at Trevor before sipping his coffee.
“Well, Betty, could you tell me what brand of shampoo you use to make your hair look so nice?” Alice ventured, when the room once more drifted into silence.
“For God's sake, Alice, I thought you understood,” Anniston said in a surly almost shouting voice. “This girl isn't human. She's an alien who only appears to be human. What shampoo she uses doesn't matter. It's her people holding humanity in judgment, deciding if we're worthy of living or being executed by the billions, that matters.”
“She's an alien?” Alice asked doubtfully, staring at the girl. “Are you really an alien?”
“In answer to your first question, I don't use shampoo. As for the alien accusations, they are slightly overstated and misleading yet essentially accurate.”
Shannon, through force of habit more than anything else, kept an eye on traffic and pedestrians as she listened to the awkward discussion. She felt the cell phone in her jacket pocket vibrate for the third time since they'd talked with Allison earlier and silently debated whether or not to answer it.
On one hand, she wasn't eager to potentially provoke Betty by answering it but on the other not answering it could piss off or worry her superiors. She didn't want to appear submissive by asking for permission to answer it and finally decided to wait and see where things went and ignore the calls for the time being.
To complicate matters further, she didn't like the way the man called Trevor sat sideways listening with a surface level look of disinterest. His body posture and eyes betrayed the aloof attitude he was trying to portray.
Regardless of where he turned his head, his eyes never seemed to leave the girl. Plus his left arm was hanging down out of sight and his overall demeanor made her strongly suspect he was holding some sort of weapon.
She coughed softly to get his attention and gave him a warning glance while minutely shaking her head as the others continued to talk.
Trevor yawned, as if in desperate need of sleep but glanced back and gave her a wink and slight nod of his head.
“I don't understand. What did we, or the rest of humanity for that matter, do to make you want to destroy us?” Alice asked the girl.
Betty walked over to the side of the big flat screen TV hanging on th
e wall and slid a hand behind it.
The TV powered on and an image of Earth as seen from space filled the screen. “This is our home now. We have come a very long way, expended numerous generations and nearly all of our resources to get here.
Again, I must say Professor Anniston has misrepresented our plans somewhat. We will be happy to coexist with humanity if they can evolve into a less chaotic, stupid, and destructive species. If that change is unattainable for whatever reason then a more drastic plan is already in place.”
Mendez had been looking at a police car parked at the end of the street while listening and surprised herself more than anyone else when she barked a contemptuous laugh. She tried futilely to cover the laugh by coughing.
Anniston smiled and chuckled softly as Betty looked from Shannon to the old man.
“Why are you two laughing?” Betty demanded.
Mendez shook her head as Anniston cleared his throat and spoke up. “You look like a sweet little girl but sound just like a frigging politician. Trying to hide coldblooded murder in carefully constructed ambiguous phrases and words like 'drastic plan' isn't fooling anyone.
You condemn humanity for its penchant for violence at the same time you tiptoe around your race planning to commit global genocide. You'll have to excuse me, but I have to laugh or scream when you do that.”
Betty didn't respond. She remained motionless for several seconds while a silence fell over the group until Alice spoke up. “You say your people have come from a distant place, if it's not impolite to ask can you tell me what you look like?”
Betty nodded slightly. “Many of us wondered how long it would be before some asked that question. Look at the monitor. On it, you will see me.”
Everyone turned and stared as the image of Earth on the TV was replaced by what looked like a combination of a small feather and bits of white fluff. Behind it was what appeared to be a wall of multicolored veins that looked like leaves when viewed under a magnifying lens or microscope.
