Rising Tide

by Rajan Khanna

  Whatever it takes is my mantra.

  Whatever it takes.

  Whatever it takes.

  They will pay.

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  For the first time since this new bug hit, I feel useful. Miranda can attack it in the world of science, but maybe I can attack it in the real world. I know she would hate to hear me frame it like that, but at the moment I don’t care.

  To help me tackle it, I’ve enlisted Diego. I’m at his place instead of the new house. Pacing again. Diego sits in a chair, leaning back against the wall.

  “We still don’t know how it’s transmitted,” I say. “Could be like the Bug—through fluids—or it could be something else. Clay didn’t think it was airborne. He said something about transmission and vectors. Basically, a lot more people would be sick. But we still don’t know how it works.”

  “So what do we do?” Diego asks.

  “Maybe we can look at the infected people and try to figure out what they all have in common. Eight people are infected right now. Six are boffins. Two are not. On the surface, there doesn’t seem anything to tie them all together. The two non-boffins are just normal Tamoanchan residents. A woman named Janice who’s a server at the Frothy Brew and a man named Shep who’s a carpenter. Only a couple of the boffins have even been to the Frothy Brew (most prefer to brew their own hooch). And while Shep worked on the new lab facilities, it sounds like he never really interacted with any of the boffins.”

  “Hmmm . . .” Diego says. He scratches at his beard with his good arm. “The question is whether they were all infected independently or whether it spread between them.”

  I nod. “I thought maybe the Frothy Brew. The beer. But that doesn’t make any sense.”

  Diego tilts his head. “Maybe a better question is, how did they get it here?”

  “The disease.” I nod. “I’ve been thinking about that. Maybe the boffins were infected with it back in the camp. And then we brought it back when we brought them here.” It’s something that’s been nagging me for a little while. That maybe I was responsible for bringing the disease here. Maybe Sergei being sick is my fault.

  “But why was Sergei the first to get sick, then?” Diego wonders. “He wasn’t in the camp.”

  “No,” I say.

  “And the prisoners should have been the first to show symptoms.”

  “Yeah.” I throw my hands up in the air. “I wish Claudia was here. She’s much better at this thing than I am.”

  Rosie walks into the room, and I immediately tense up. She crosses her arms and leans back against the wall. “You’re doing this all wrong,” she says. “You have to try to think like them.”

  “Like the Cabal,” I say.

  She nods.

  “Okaaay,” I say. “Let me fetch my evil-genius hat.”

  She just stares at me, unamused.

  “Fine. So I’m in the Cabal. We created the virus.”

  “They’re calling it ‘Enigma,’” Rosie says.

  “I know,” I say. “We created Enigma.”

  “Why?” Diego asks.

  “Because we can,” I say. “Because it’s easier than sending raiders in to attack. Instead, we infect everyone, let their bodies turn on them, then we just walk in and take over.”

  “That’s fucked,” Diego says.

  “Completely fucked,” I say. “But it makes sense. By all accounts, these assholes want to take as much as they can get. They teamed up with Valhalla for manpower, but now they don’t need it. They let the disease work for them.”

  “The question is,” Diego says, “were they targeting us?”

  “I think we can assume they were. We thought all this time that they might not have our location, because no raiders came. What if this was their aim all along? They want to take us out with the vi . . . with Enigma.”

  “I feel sick,” Diego says.

  “What?” Rosie asks.

  “A figure of speech.”

  “They couldn’t have come close to the island with a ship,” Rosie says. “It would have been spotted.”

  Something starts itching in my brain. Something I can’t quite seem to scratch at. Scraps of a story. Diego and Rosie continue talking about ships and boats and goods being brought in for barter.

  “Wait,” I say.

  “What?” Diego asks.

  “The horse.”

  “The what?”

  “The horse.”

  They both look at me blankly.

  “There’s this story about a wooden horse. People hid inside of it, and when it was brought into the city, they snuck out to attack.”

  “What the hell are you talking about?” Diego asks.

  “They didn’t need a boat or an airship or barter. They let us bring them back. When we rescued the boffins!”

  “But we figured out that they didn’t infect them.”

  “But we brought back a few extra people, didn’t we?”

  Rosie steps forward. “You mean Maya and Hector?”

  I nod. Everyone is quiet.

  “It’s not them,” Rosie says.

  “Why not?” I ask.

  She meets my eyes with her steely gaze, her jaw set. “Because I’ve talked to them. Got to know them. I can’t see them doing this.”

  “You know them that well,” I say. I shake my head. “Boy, Rosie, you move fast.”

  Then she’s moving, crossing the space, and she grabs my shirt and pushes me back, slamming me into the wall.

  “Rosie!” Diego is on his feet, pulling her away from me with his good arm. He turns her to him. “Ben is not the enemy.”

  “Are you sure about that?” she spits back at him.

  “I’m sorry,” I say moving forward. “You must have your head stuffed up your ass. You’re defending them and calling me an enemy?”

  “You’re the one who leaves wreckage in your wake.”

  I shake my head. “Too bad I’m not a woman. I could bat my eyes and sway my hips and you’d just turn over for me.”

  I don’t see the fist until it’s right in my face.

  But I feel it.

  The punch sends me back into the wall. I throw my hand down to brace myself.

  The kick comes a moment later. I twist away, but it catches me in the ribs.

  “Rosie!” Diego shouts.

  It must make her slow for a second because the second punch is clumsy and I grab her arm and pull her forward, lifting my knee into her midsection. It connects solidly and knocks the air out of her. I take advantage by slamming her into the wall.

  “Ben!” Diego yells. But I ignore him.

  For a moment. Because he grabs me with one massive hand and tosses me to the side. As I’m regaining my balance, I see him plant himself in front of Rosie. “You both are going to stop acting like fucking fools,” he said. “Or else I’m going to put you both down.”

  I stay where I am, sucking in air, feeling the pain of Rosie’s hits throb through my body.

  Diego turns to me. “Are you finished acting like a damned idiot?”

  “Is she?”

  He shakes his head, and the look on his face makes me feel ashamed. But the pain in my ribs sparks the anger again. “I’m trying to figure things out here. For Sergei and Miranda. And we need to talk to Maya and Hector.”

  “Yes,” Diego says. “We do.”

  Rosie looks at him like he just kneed her in the gut. “And what if it’s not them? What if they’re innocent and this came in on some ship full of supplies? What if we pursue this and let the real source slip away?”

  That’s not a bad question, I think. There’s nothing to say that it didn’t happen that way except that it would require the Cabal knowing our ships. Knowing that whatever they planted would be brought back here and used in the right way. It seems like a bit of a stretch.

  “Are you saying that Maya and Hector just hung out in that prison camp?” Rosie asks. “Waiting for you and Diego to rescue them? That sounds like a great plan.”

  Diego
squints at me. “It’s a fair point.”

  And it is, but something about it feels right to me. “The other boffins said that they were being held in another facility. A school. But they were moved to the camp. And Maya and Hector were brought in separately. We don’t know much about how they came to be there.”

  “So you’re just going to assume they’re enemies?” Rosie asks.

  “I’m not assuming anything. But we need to ask the questions.” I meet Rosie’s eyes. “We’re just going to talk to them. Not throw them in a cell. And they’re not our only possibility. Diego and I will also talk to any recently returning ship captains. But we can’t just let this go.”

  Rosie sighs and shakes her head.

  “He’s right,” Diego says. “We need to at least talk to them.”

  “You’re making a mistake,” she says, eyes on Diego. “We’re just supposed to accept Miranda’s people because . . . what? They vouch for them? Well, I vouch for Maya. Are you going to tell me that their word is worth more than mine?”

  They stare at each other for a moment. Then Diego crosses his arms in front of his chest. “Rose, Miranda and Ben and Sergei have known these people for months. You’ve known Maya for days.”

  I’m glad I’m not the one Rosie’s glaring at like that.

  “Fine,” she says, short and sharp. “We’ll talk to them. But you’ll see that this is a waste of time. And I hope that this waste of time doesn’t mean we miss the real cause.”

  “We’ll go together,” Diego says. “Get it done quick. If we get nothing, we look elsewhere.” He pauses and looks at me. “Yes?”

  “Yes,” I say.

  He looks at Rosie.

  “I said I would.”

  “Good,” Diego says.

  “Are you up for this?” I ask, eyeballing Diego.

  “My arm is fine.” He flexes it. “See? Three weeks have gone a long way toward healing it. I’m going.”

  “Okay.” But to which new boffin? There are two of them. I look over to Rosie, who still seems to be fuming. “We’ll talk to Hector first.”

  I think I see Rosie relax just a little. I probably shouldn’t give her that, but I do. I’m not even sure why.

  “All right,” Diego says. He opens a drawer in a battered cabinet and pulls out a second pistol, tucks it into his waistband. “Just in case.”

  I hold up a hand. “We’re just going to talk. There are still too many questions.”

  Diego’s face goes hard. “I’d like to ask some questions for a change.”

  “Well, first we need to find them.”

  “Should we let the Keepers know?” Diego asks.

  I shake my head. “I think they might tip our hand. Best to go in small. Keep this quiet.” I look at Rosie. “Can you do that?”

  She just glares at me.

  “Fair enough. Let’s go see what we can find out.”

  Going after Hector makes me feel like a lawman, like an old sheriff from a western story. I even have the star pinned to my coat. Throw your irons on the ground. Don’t make me shoot, I think. Only this isn’t a story. Hector and Maya might hold the information that we need to stop this disease. Maybe even to cure Sergei and the others. My latest message from Miranda said that he was deteriorating quickly.

  The disease, Enigma, sounds insidious. I’ve been afraid of the Bug my entire life—a virus that takes you away from yourself, steals your mind and leaves only your body and urges behind. This new disease turns your body against you. Your mind stays intact, but your body fails. Like some kind of dark reflection.

  No, I think. Not a disease. A weapon. A biological weapon used to attack.

  “You alright?” Diego asks beside me. “You’re all tensed up.”

  “Yeah,” I say, exhaling and willing my body to uncoil. That won’t do any good now. “I’m just . . . physical threats I can handle. I know how to put them down.” I pat the revolver strapped to my leg. “This disease . . . I can’t shoot it. And the people behind this are operating on an entirely different level.”

  “Then I guess it’s lucky we have Miranda,” he says.

  Rosie doesn’t say anything. Her face looks tight. But then I’m used to that.

  “Miranda’s got a lot to deal with right now,” I say. “Things were bad enough with Valhalla and the raiders. But now there’s all this going on. These people, the Cabal, they’re smart. Incredibly, cruelly, sadistically smart.”

  Diego gives a quick shake of his head. “They’ll still die if you put enough bullets in them.”

  I give an answering nod. “I guess there’s that.”

  At the lab, I ask a few of the boffins if they’ve seen Hector. They point me to the far building. Most of them have been put to work on studying this new disease. Problem is, the majority of their protocols have been designed to deal with the Bug. Enigma has some similarities, obviously, based on its design. But it’s an entirely different animal. An old saying my father used to use comes back to me. A wolf in sheep’s clothing. Only this is more a wolf in bear’s clothing.

  We move among the boffins, trying to look casual about things. Not like we’re after anyone. No sense in tipping off our prey.

  “Why don’t you both go around the back way,” I say. “One on each side. That way if he spooks you can cover the exit.”

  “Okay,” Diego says.

  I look to Rosie. She’s still not happy, but she nods.

  “And try not to shoot.”

  “I know,” he says. “We don’t want to kill him.”

  “Or any of the boffins. They’re going to be scared regardless. Let’s try to keep this tight.”

  “Got it,” Diego says.

  I move to the building while Diego and Rosie peel off, each heading to the back of the building from a different side. Nice and tight.

  Hector is inside, bending down over a microscope, a pile of papers stacked next to him, some glassware nearby. I think of Miranda talking about how good glassware is hard to find. I should try to make sure none of it gets smashed.

  I approach him, what I think is a friendly look on my face. Truth be told, it’s a little hard not to look tense and worried, but I do what I can. “Hector,” I say.

  He looks up from his microscope, noticing me, and looking a bit surprised. “Ben,” he says.

  “Just heard from Miranda,” I say, moving closer. Positioning myself between him and the other boffins. Trying to keep some space around us if it turns violent. That glass could be a problem if he decides to use it.

  “Oh,” he says. “Does she need something from me?”

  “She just wanted to talk to you. Get your opinion on something. I don’t know. Some disease-vector thing.”

  “Oh, okay,” he says. “I’m just finishing this up. When does she want to see me?”

  “Now, if it’s okay.”

  “Well, I really should finish up what I’m doing. I can’t leave it and get back to it without starting over again.”

  “Okay,” I say. “How much time do you need?”

  “Well, I don’t know. It’s a bit delicate. Can you check back in a half hour?”

  Fuck. This isn’t going as I’d hoped. I thought maybe he’d walk back with me and we could get him somewhere safe and question him there.

  Hector searches my face. I see lines in his drawn face I hadn’t noticed before.

  “It’s really important,” I say. “It’s about Sergei. I think you should come now. You’ll just have to redo the test again later.”

  He frowns. Continues to search my face. Then he shrugs and says, “Okay. If it’s important. Let me just clean this up so someone else can use the station.” He removes the slide from the microscope, places it in a case. Turns to shift some papers.

  Then he turns back, fast, and I feel the bite of pain across my collarbone, just below my neck. I fall back and gasp. And he runs.

  The pain is still burning and I can feel myself bleeding, but I give chase anyway. I can’t let him get away.

  He ru
ns, as expected, to the back of the building where Diego and Rosie are waiting. I skirt around a stool that he tipped over, then through the door just as a gunshot echoes around me.

  I see Hector sprinting away, to the western part of the island, where it’s less populated. Where some of the ships are kept. Diego is on the ground, his gun in his hands, pointed in Hector’s direction. Diego looks okay, as in not dying, so I continue, still trying to ignore the burning in my chest.

  Hector’s tall and has long legs, but he’s really thin. I hope that means he’s likely to tire before I do. But it’s been a while since I’ve run anywhere, and my body has been through a lot lately.

  I just keep thinking of Sergei and Miranda. And my enemies. The people who think they can fuck with those I care about. Those shadows who want to manipulate the world from the darkness. I can’t let them get away with it.

  I put on a burst of speed and close some of the distance. Hector is just ahead of me, skinny limbs pumping. His shoes are thin and worn. Another advantage I have on him. Thank you, Mal, I think. You helped me more than you know.

  The distance closes and I’m just there, one big jump and I can get him. We’re about to head down a light slope, and I want to get him before we hit it.

  Then my boot catches on something—a rock, a root, whatever—and I go tilting through the air.

  I’m still behind Hector, and I slam into him—hard—and together we smack into the ground with crushing intensity, a tangle of limbs and bodies. I feel my wind go and I’m rolling and the sky is whirling, and when I stop, he’s on top of me in an instant—and there’s something in his hands. Something long and thin.

  Not a knife. A syringe.

  And it comes to this again—disease, a worse threat than cutting or stabbing.

  I grip his wrists and hold his hands away. I can see a bead of liquid on the end. What happens if it falls on me . . . ?

  We’re both breathing hard. I’m stronger, but Hector is letting gravity do a lot of the work for him.

  Have I mentioned how much I hate gravity?

  “Is that how you did it?” I snarl between gritted teeth. “Injections?”