The Coming Storm_A Pax Aeterna Novel

by Trevor Wyatt

  Is he sick too?

  “Oh, I don’t know about that,” Cassius said easily, hoping to defuse his friend’s anger—but Davon wasn’t having any of it.

  “No one was sick before they set up business,” he said, his eyes narrowing. He didn’t seem to realize that he had just coughed.

  “Look, Dav, it’s just a coincidence,” Cassius said, and tried to explain what Bergman had told him about unknown bugs, but Davon shook his head.

  You always were a stubborn so-and-so, Cassius thought as Davon stalked off.

  “Poker this week?” he called after the man, but Davon didn’t reply.

  Stopping by the store to pick up some milk and eggs, Cassius noticed several other people, all men, sniffling into tissues. The twinge of unease he’d felt earlier now redoubled. In the dairy aisle, he spotted Craig Lownds and Blake Hoffman talking. He walked up to them, relieved to see his friends.

  “Hey, guys. Buying chips and beer for the game?”

  To his surprise, both men eyed him coldly.

  “Can’t make it this week, Cash,” Craig said. “Miriam’s got a ‘honey-do’ list a mile long.” He coughed. “Damn allergies,” he said tightly.

  “Same with me,” Blake said. “Next week’ll be better.”

  “Sure, it’s fine,” Cassius said.

  He walked away quickly. Something told him their weekly poker games were now a thing of the past.

  If these fellows weren’t blaming him now for this crop fever thing, he realized with dawning apprehension, they probably soon would be.

  Shit-fire, he thought.

  Back at his office, Ava had left for the day. He quickly went out on the web, searching for more information on the illness.

  There were few facts, but plenty of opinions. Most people who were aware of the problem—comparatively few at this time—insisted that the sickness was a result of the Lange agricultural installation on Anupao. Without any real evidence yet, wild claims were flying.

  The most common one was that Lange’s genetically engineered crops contained compounds that when absorbed by Elbanite insects caused a mutation in a virus in the insects’ saliva, rendering it dangerous to human beings while remaining harmless to the insects. If an infected insect bit a human, the virus was transferred and attacked its new host.

  His daughter Sienna, he remembered, loved to work in the garden, where there were plenty of insects.

  Anupao was a long way off.

  But even so, he closed up the office and hurried home.

  Chapter 6

  Cassius

  Cassius waited in the large room, his arms crossed over his chest, and his fingers drumming on his arm. A Town Hall Meeting had been called just an hour ago, and no one had arrived yet. His eyes darted to the clock every few minutes, and the feeling of time passing by slowly in anticipation didn’t help at all.

  The solitude allowed Cassius’ mind to wander. His own son had fallen victim to a high fever that only seemed to be getting worse. Cassius was scared for his son—he was terrified of what could happen if help didn’t reach them fast enough.

  But he knew he had to remain calm.

  People were counting on him, and he had to set an example as their Governor.

  Cassius knew he had a relatively small amount of actual executive power, but his influence on the people’s morale made up for his lack of political influence.

  After another half hour of waiting, the people began pouring in.

  Cassius stood to his feet. The room was filled with the low hum of idle chatter and hushed whispers.

  It was clear that everyone already had a suspicion of why they had been called to this meeting. None of them was ready to accept the harsh reality of what was going on with their loved ones.

  Cassius approached the center of the room. Up in the podium, he scanned the crowd, looking at the concerned faces of the people he’d been entrusted with governing. His mind steeled to deliver the speech he’d rehearsed countless times over the last several hours.

  With a deep breath, he began to speak.

  “I’m sure you’re all aware of what’s been happening,” he said. “A mysterious disease that has come to be known as Crop Fever has infected nearly half of the population. While its origins are unknown, we know that around ten percent of infected individuals have, unfortunately, passed away. It is characterized by a fever that gradually deteriorates into paranoia, hallucinations, and psychotic outbursts. It has threatened to cripple our very way of living.”

  Murmurs flooded through the crowd. Cassius raised his hand to silence the mass before they could become unruly.

  “That being said, we can’t throw ourselves into a panic. I’ve sent word to the main government of Centralia. As you’re aware, they have access to far more advanced medical capabilities than we do, and I’m sure they’ll be able to send aid to us,” he said in a confident tone.

  A man stood up from amongst the congregation, his face covered with a surgical mask and his complexion a deathly pale. Dark circles hung beneath his eyes from a lack of sleep. He seemed barely able to stand, but he proceeded forward regardless to the front of the room.

  It took Cassius a solid minute to notice that this sickly husk of a man was Craig.

  “We can’t afford to wait any longer, Cassius!” he said, a hoarse cough between every other word. “We’re dying, more and more of us by the day. I say we evacuate the planet and go to them! If we wait any longer, there won’t be any of us left to save.”

  “Craig, be reasonable. It takes time to organize things of this magnitude. We have a planet-wide epidemic on our hands. We can’t expect results overnight,” Cassius replied. He pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed deeply. “If we remain patient, then we can—”

  “Patience got us nowhere, Cassius. Patience removed a tenth of our population. Our family and friends—they’re gone! If their medical facilities are so much better than ours, then I see no reason why going to them directly would be anything other than the best course of action we could take!”

  Craig staggered his way to the middle of the stage to stand a couple meters away from Cassius. Cassius reached his hand forward to rest upon Craig’s shoulder, giving his friend a look of pure sympathy.

  “I understand, Craig. Believe me, I want results as soon as possible. My son is as much as a victim as you,” he said, his voice threatening to crack with the mention of his son.

  Cassius maintained his composure, turning his head to the crowd.

  “How about this. We give them one more week. If Centralia doesn’t send aid to us within one week’s time, we’ll begin evacuations using the public transport ship. Is that a compromise that we can all agree with?” Cassius asked, waiting for a response from the crowd.

  “All in favor, raise your hand.”

  The crowd was silent for a moment, until one hand slowly raised. Soon, another joined. One by one, almost the entire group raised their hands.

  A sea of positive responses brought a smile to Cassius’ face. He turned to his friend. Though his mouth was hidden by the mask, he could see that Craig’s face had twisted into one of anxiety.

  “We’ll make it work, Craig,” Cassius said.

  “I hope so. And I know they have a lot of advance medicine that could help us there, but I just realized…how can we be so sure that they’d accept us?” Craig asked weakly.

  “I’m sure they’d be willing to help us. We’ll negotiate with them and figure it all out. Craig, for now, take care of yourself,” Cassius gently squeezed Craig’s shoulder, as if to reassure him.

  It didn’t seem to work, however. Craig pulled away and slowly made his way back to his seat.

  “With this almost unanimous agreement, it’s settled. We wait one more week for more supplies to arrive,” Cassius said, returning to his place at the podium with both hands on either side of it. “If they don’t respond, then we’ll begin evacuating Elban. As mentioned before, we’ll load the public transport ship with as many people as i
t can carry.”

  The crowd began nodding in agreement.

  Cassius managed another smile and gave a solemn nod to them.

  “Thank you all for coming. You don’t know how much your continued support means to me,” Cassius said. “Together, we’ll overcome this obstacle—just like we always have. And we always will. If you have questions, please remain. Otherwise, you can all go.”

  One by one, the people began filing out of the hall. Cassius remained in his place until the last person exited the room, leaving him alone with Craig, who sat in the back of the room.

  Cassius slowly walked toward him and took a seat beside him.

  He rested his hands on his knees and stared downward at his feet. The two men sat in silence for a few minutes before Cassius breathed a sigh.

  “This is a mistake, Cassius. You know very well we don’t have any more time to wait,” Craig said, wheezing behind his mask as if each word caused pain.

  “The people of Elban are resilient. We live on a planet most would find inhospitable and downright hostile, and we do it with pride. Against all odds, we thrive,” Cassius said.

  “You call this thriving?” Craig said through another hack and wheeze. “People are dying one by one. Every day, more die from this godforsaken disease.”

  “And when Centralia comes to help us, no more will die. We have to be optimistic for the people,” Cassius replied. “How they feel is more important than how things are. If they believe things will be alright, then they’ll make that happen no matter how much it’s stacked against them.”

  “I think you’ve confused being optimistic with being oblivious, Cassius,” Craig said. “There aren’t many of us to start with, and by the time this is over, there will be even less of us. Ten percent of five thousand infected is five hundred.

  “Tomorrow, that number will climb. And that body count will only get higher and higher from here on out. Things like this snowball and get out of control faster than you think, Cassius. We can’t sustain ourselves this way.”

  Craig hoisted himself from his seat and began walking to the door.

  “For your sake and the sake of all of us, I hope you prove me wrong.”

  Cassius watched him as he exited the room. Once he was alone, he rested his forehead in his hand.

  “I hope I do too,” he muttered to himself.

  Through his confidence, Cassius couldn’t deny that he felt a little unsure himself. It was natural. Self-doubt plagued even the most confident of leaders. It threatened to infect him like the very disease he was trying to combat.

  A shake of his head was enough to clear his mind of the thoughts. He couldn’t afford to sulk and succumb to the fear of losing this world. He needed to embody the same confidence that he wanted to instill in his constituents.

  Cassius rose from his seat, turning off the lights behind him to head for home.

  Chapter 7

  Cassius

  Day after day passed. With each day, the radio silence from Centralia became more and more crushing.

  More of the population grew sick, and more died. The healthy ones waited in anxiety for help that they knew wasn’t coming.

  As promised, evacuation plans that had been discussed over the last week were set into motion. They would load the ship with as many passengers as they could. They would take as many trips as necessary to get the healthy ones off Elban, and on their way to Centralia.

  Cassius stood by the gate, a tablet hooked in his left arm and stylus in his right. He watched families and individuals file into the large ship. Two hundred passengers—the maximum capacity for a single trip—were all present and accounted for. Everything went according to plan.

  A young woman in a uniform approached Cassius, and he tucked his tablet away for the moment.

  “Is everyone on board secured and accounted for?” he asked.

  “Yes, sir. We’re ready for takeoff ASAP,” she said.

  “Good. Tell the captain everything is clear on my end. I’ll get to work preparing the next two hundred,” Cassius said with a smile.

  As if on cue, the captain himself approached the pair, removing his sunglasses and giving a dejected expression.

  “Sir, our navigation systems are down,” he said.

  “Down? What do you mean they’re down? I thought we performed a check on them barely half an hour ago,” Cassius questioned, looking through his tablet for the results of the last test.

  “It appears they’ve been remotely disabled,” the captain admitted. “Someone triggered it barely five minutes ago. It’ll still work, but we’d be going blind into space—and that’s never a smart idea. I might be able to trace the signal if you give me a few minutes.”

  Cassius internally cursed, a low groan erupting from his throat.

  “Don’t bother. I know who did it,” he said.

  It had to be someone from the Centralian government. It was all starting to make sense now. Every distress call had fallen on deaf ears, and now they were blocking any attempt at escape.

  Centralia didn’t want the burden of taking care of thousands of sick people, people they considered nothing more than a labor force for food production. Elban was nothing to them, and it turned Cassius’ stomach to even think about this betrayal.

  Unknown to Cassius, Craig had been standing just within earshot of the three and heard every word of their conversation. Even in his decrepit state, he commanded an intimidating presence once the trio finally noticed him.

  “What did I tell you?” he said, venom coursing through every word. “We gave you your week and you let us down!”

  Cassius turned to face him. The man’s condition had worsened since the last time they met. He had no surgical mask on this time, and Cassius could see the cracked lines of his chapped lips. His eyes bagged from the sleepless nights, and there’s a crazed look behind those dark pupils. Craig’s teeth were bared as if he were ready to rip Cassius’ throat out with a single bite.

  Cassius cleared his throat, attempting to remain calm in the face of this madman.

  “Craig, please. Remain calm. I’m sure—”

  “You expect me to remain calm?” he interrupted. His hoarse voice cracked with each syllable, sounding as if his vocal cords were being torn apart. “That’s what you said last week, and the week before! And look where that got us! We’re trapped here!”

  The crowd around them began paying attention to them. The sea of faces whispered to each other, eyes widening in the early stages of a panic. Cassius needed to defuse this situation, and he needed to do it quickly. Otherwise, this would erupt into a full-scale riot.

  “If I can get in touch with someone who—”

  “Someone who’ll give you clearance to use that little ship of yours to mosey on out of here to safety while we suffer and die? Yeah, don’t think I don’t know that you can leave whenever you want!” he screamed.

  His eyes were wild in rage. In this livid state, Cassius could tell that his friend wasn’t thinking rationally.

  “That’s not true!” Cassius said, taking a step forward to Craig. The two men were face to face, only a half meter’s distance apart. “After all this time, do you think I would abandon my people?”

  “Oh please, Cassius! They’re not ‘your people’. You’re not that high in the ranks! They only gave you this position because it needed to be filled!” he accused.

  Craig’s face was flushed red, his voice even more strained than before. “Just admit it! You’re only interested in saving yourself and your family! You don’t care about me, you don’t care about my wife, you don’t care about little Peyton! I need to get them to safety too, you know!”

  Around them, the crowd began to pack themselves more tightly than they had before. They pushed and shoved each other, their voices growing from the hushed murmurs to full volume conversations. Some even began leaving the ship to see what was causing the noise outside.

  They grew more uncontrollable by the second.

  A riot could break
out any minute, and if it did, there was nothing Cassius could do to stop it. They were no longer interested in words. They wanted action, they wanted results, and they wanted it quickly.

  Craig threw a punch at Cassius while he was distracted. There wasn’t much strength behind the punch, and Cassius barely registered it—the punch only disarmed him temporarily. Craig didn’t have the strength to actually hurt him, and he was soon pushed away by the crowd of people.

  Nothing but the sound of their uproar could be heard. Screaming, crying, every insult the human tongue was capable of uttering—it all filled the air around Cassius and threatened to suffocate him with just how claustrophobic the situation had become.

  “Please! Let me go! Let me come with you to Centralia!” one woman pleaded, gripping his shirt collar with gnarled hands. She seemed to be in the later stages of the sickness. Bloodshot eyes begged through coughing fits brought on by excessive screaming. “I don’t want to die!”

  Others echoed her sentiment. The sight was pitiful, and Cassius’ heart broke as he watched his once-proud constituency crumble before him.

  If this was how civilization died, it was much more horrifying than he could have ever imagined.

  The crowd grew violent. Chaos ripped through their ranks; fists made contact with flesh. Some fell to the ground, trampled by the stampede of the mob. Cassius fought with everything in him to press his way through. He needed to get to the parking lot fast, before the crowd became entirely impassable.

  He pressed past the nearly impenetrable wall of bodies, stepping over the remains of those who were crushed by the stampede. His ground car was in sight. Just a few more, and he would be within the safe confines of the vehicle’s bulletproof glass windows and steel frame.

  The final person was overcome, Cassius unfortunately having to shove him to the ground and leave him at the mercy of the angry mob.

  Cassius stumbled forward, gripping the handle of his car for stability as he fished the ignition key from his pocket.