Flypaper: A Novel

by Chris Angus

  Zeli surveyed the faces around the table. “Very well. It is agreed.” He thought for a moment. “We must take with us whatever supplies we can. I suspect there will be little foraging where we’re going. Xiaolang, you will organize units to collect food and medical supplies throughout the city. The army will follow behind our smaller attack force. They’ll have to use the main road for our heavy supply trucks, which will mean confrontation with the sick and possibly having to fight their way through. Meanwhile, our pincers will move out of the Gobi and take the premier’s compound by surprise.”

  Planning moved quickly. Everyone felt the pressure from the emptying cities of Beijing, Tianjin, Tangshan, and others along the coast of the Yellow Sea. A literal tsunami of humanity had been loosed upon the interior.

  Two days were allotted for preparations and the gathering of supplies. Xiaolang would be in charge of the supply lines and main army. General Zhou, the most experienced military figure, would lead the strike force on the premier’s compound.

  The last morning, as he prepared to leave, Zeli sat LiLing down for a discussion he’d been dreading.

  “You will travel with the main force,” he said evenly. “We’ll be reunited after the battle is over.”

  She set her mouth in that way he had come to know. “You need me for this,” she said. “I can help you.”

  “You’ve given me nothing but good advice in the short time we’ve been together, LiLing. I’m grateful for it and you may even be correct that you could help at the front of the engagement. But I’ll be distracted if you’re there and unable to give my full attention to the fight. I’ll worry about you.”

  “I can take care of myself.”

  “I know that very well. Otherwise, do you think I’d ever leave you alone with thousands of my soldiers? You’ve bewitched me these last weeks and made me happy in a way I never thought I would see again.” He stroked the gentle curve of her face with his hand. “I cannot allow you to come.”

  LiLing saw the finality in his face. She leaned into his arms and hugged him tightly. “Very well. But if anything bad happens, I’ll be very angry with you and nag you mercilessly, even in the next life.”

  The attack force moved quickly, given the extreme conditions under which they operated. Six hundred men would take part in the forward attack, moving in light, four-wheel-drive jeeps and trucks that hugged the edge of the Gobi.

  One of the world’s largest desert regions, the Gobi was a cold, dry desert. While there were sand dunes, much of its surface consisted of barren rock. It had many of its own species including gazelles, snow leopards, and brown bears. Temperatures could range from 120 degrees to minus forty degrees. It was a rain shadow desert formed by the Himalaya range blocking rain-carrying clouds from the Indian Ocean from reaching the Gobi territory.

  The flat, rocky terrain offered good purchase to the army vehicles. They made excellent time, arriving in the foothills surrounding the premier’s summer home late in the afternoon on the third day.

  General Zhou ordered camp to be made in a secluded draw a few miles from the compound. During the night, scouts reconnoitered the site and determined their estimates of the premier’s force were correct. At first light, the battle was launched.

  It wasn’t much of a fight. Before an alarm could be raised, Zeli’s men were inside the compound with rifles leveled at the sleepy guards and police units. Only two of the premier’s men were killed, silently, while at their posts.

  Premier Zhao stood at the door to his private cottage in his nightgown, dazed and unbelieving. His wife and children gathered behind him as General Zhou strode toward him through the courtyard.

  “Good morning, Mr. Premier,” he said.

  Zemin tried to make a show of it. “What is the meaning of this outrage? This is a traitorous act, General Zhou. The Party will hear of this.”

  Zeli stood in front of him quietly. “You are hereby deposed as premier. You and your family are under house arrest. The members of your police and bodyguards will be given the choice of joining the army or being free to go . . . wherever they think they can go.”

  “I—I have alliances,” Zemin sputtered. “The Russians will not stand for this, or the Koreans. I’m the premier of China.”

  “Your friends, the Russians, are concerned only for themselves, Zemin. I would think their sending you back here at gunpoint might have made that clear enough, even to you.”

  Zemin’s astonishment that the general knew of his recent overture to the Russians was evident. He had nothing left to say.

  “Perhaps, Zemin, none of us will survive this terrible affliction, in which case, your posturing and mine will be of little concern to anyone but the worms. But I believe China will rise again and when she does, the people will rule under the guidance of the divine God. The Communist Party, however, has seen its day.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

  PAUL LITTLEFIELD SAT in the Trump Palace penthouse and stared out of the enormous floor-to-ceiling windows as the late afternoon shadows of the Manhattan skyline marched across Central Park. He felt strangely content. While the rest of the president’s advisors were running around like chickens with their heads cut off, trying to deal with the deteriorating world situation, he saw only opportunity.

  The epidemic, he now felt certain beyond any doubt, was God’s clever means of clearing the way for his burgeoning new missions across Asia. Nothing opened people up more quickly to the word of the Lord than widespread sickness and hardship. There was no longer any government opposition to his expansionist agenda in China because there was no longer any government, at least none that anyone had been able to locate in recent weeks. In the face of utter anarchy, officials of every stripe had melted away into the countryside.

  Of course, he was disappointed he’d been unable to locate Ren Zhu since returning from China. He assumed his right-hand man was scouting new sites for missions, but there was always the possibility he might have succumbed to the epidemic. That his chief Chinese operative had essentially gone into hiding until the chaos subsided was something that never occurred to Littlefield. He expected those who worked for him to give him absolute obedience and loyalty. It had always been that way. People respected his high moral rectitude and responded to it. The munificent salaries he paid were of only secondary importance.

  It was also something of a setback that General Zhou had insisted on staying in that compound full of women and children. What a colossal fool! If only the general had taken over the country, ousting that buffoon Zemin, Littlefield might even now be planning new missions to go up the moment the epidemic waned.

  He was certain the general was dead. There was no way such a weakly defended compound could stand in the face of those countless thousands of sick and crazed people on the highway. It was only a matter of time. Which was why he felt confident in his little lie to the president that Zeli had perished in the helicopter crash. Besides, hadn’t he shown great courage himself in making the decision to escape and then surviving those awful days on the road?

  Discussions now swirled about the president’s inner circle that some sort of alien influence must be behind the anomalous DNA sequence. What patent nonsense! There were no little green men, only brown, black, and yellow men . . . with white men to lead them all. It had always been a source of wonder to him that the world had been so slow to address the problem of false religions and gods. Billions of souls had gone to meet their maker without any hope of salvation. They now burned forever in hellfire and damnation. But there were billions more that might still be saved. That was his mission—what God had set as his task when He gave him the strength and wisdom to become one of the world’s richest and most powerful men. It was not by accident this had happened. Nothing God did was by accident.

  He, Paul Littlefield, had been set upon this Earth to bring about the end of the many false religions that were the work of the devil. He would unite the entire planet behind the single great Christian truth. Then the march to a world
ruled by the one true God would be complete. Then everyone—from the Eskimos to the Hindus to the Buddhists to the witchcraft practitioners of the Caribbean and the animists of primitive cultures—all would answer to Christ our Savior.

  It would be so! He would make it happen. The blind, atheist, science-based beliefs of Gordon Page would be among the first of the blasphemous creeds to disappear. And the Jews—those murderers of Christ—would not be far behind. How he despised President Klein. The man represented the worst of all worlds—a Jew who gave support and succor to atheists like Page. Soon, they would all kneel down and accept the brilliance of his world vision. And once that happened, he had no doubt God would lift the terrible scourge that was now sweeping across Asia. There would be a new world order.

  And he would be the most powerful man on Earth, meting out that power with great magnanimity. Everyone would look to him as the savior of mankind, the one who had the vision to carry out what was necessary to end the great epidemic and bring salvation to the masses.

  Many millions had died horribly as a result of the disease. But he looked upon it as God’s triage. Suffering had always been man’s route to the next level.

  Little green men had nothing at all to do with it.

  General Zhou smiled widely as he watched LiLing pull up in an army jeep and get out. She looked every inch the guerilla fighter in her khaki clothes, hat set rakishly on her head, a Kalashnikov cradled in one arm. She planted her feet and stared about the compound approvingly.

  “A good, defensible position, general.”

  “I made some modifications. Our former premier was not much of a military strategist, I’m afraid. With most of China in turmoil and millions of people on the move, he had only two sleepy guards watching over him.”

  LiLing kissed him. “I’m so happy to see you,” she said, softly. “I’m glad for the premier’s incompetence.”

  He held her hand. “Tell me, how are things on the main roads?”

  Her face grew grim. “It’s very bad. If we hadn’t had considerable force of arms, we wouldn’t have broken through. Even so, we left a trail of dead behind us. I believe it is a tender mercy to kill them. Such suffering can hardly be imagined. It was frightful.”

  He led her inside to his personal quarters and gave her tea.

  “Where’s Zemin?” she asked.

  “We put him and his family in another building, under guard. He’s having a tough time adjusting to his new position. We shall have to find him a job studying antiquities in the new China. It’s really all he’s suitable for.”

  “You have a good heart,” said LiLing. “But I wonder if it makes sense to keep him alive. In such times as these, keeping one’s enemies close may not be wise. What if his own men plot to reinstate him?”

  “Unlikely. Zemin never engendered great loyalty in his people. He was too uninterested in them. To a man, they swore allegiance to me and joined the army. They did so with obvious relief. The alternative of being sent out into that maelstrom of disease served to focus their loyalties quite remarkably.”

  She settled back and put her feet up, sipping her tea gratefully. “So, what next, my general?”

  His forehead wrinkled. “Who can say? Perhaps we’re safe here, or perhaps we will all soon die from the disease. We’ve certainly been exposed to whatever it is. So far, the migrations don’t appear to be coming this way. They’ve been moving west instead.”

  LiLing could see out the open door to the central part of the compound. An army truck appeared at the far side of the clearing. She watched with growing eyes as it ran through the roadblock at the entrance, scattering soldiers who then turned and fired at the vehicle.

  The sound of shots was electrifying. They sprang to the door, weapons ready, and watched the truck careen through the compound, then slam into one of the outbuildings. Two figures leaped from the vehicle just before it exploded in a ball of flame. Both men were shot in a hail of bullets.

  “What the hell is going on?” asked the general.

  Xiaolang appeared, running toward them. Several dozen soldiers followed him. “General! It’s the sickness. It’s penetrated our forces. Men are acting irrationally all over the compound. It’s spreading like wildfire. Also, we just received word that a large contingent of the diseased from the main road has apparently followed us here. That may be where the contamination came from.”

  Zeli swore. “We can’t stay here, then,” he said, grimly.

  “Where will we go?” asked LiLing.

  “There’s no place left to go,” said Xiaolang. “This was our final stronghold. The diseased are encircling our position to the south and east. They’re all around us.”

  “Is there any way we can determine how many of our forces are still healthy?” asked Zeli.

  Xiaolang shrugged. “These men were with me. They appear to be all right, but who knows for sure? The main body of the army is still camped outside to the north of the compound. Perhaps they haven’t yet met up with any of the sick.”

  “Look!” shouted LiLing.

  Breaching the walls simultaneously on three sides of the compound were scores of obviously diseased civilians. In the horrible manner of the illness, many appeared old or weak, but they exhibited a singularity of purpose, to seek out any who still seemed healthy.

  “We’ve got to get out of here,” said Zeli. “Before we’re all contaminated. Head for the north gate. We’ll meet up with the army and take as many of them with us as still seem able and sane.”

  At the north gate, however, they found many of the general’s men acting strangely. Perhaps they were in the early stages, for they didn’t exhibit open hostility, but rather seemed dazed, wandering randomly. The soldiers paid no attention to their general’s orders.

  They quickly bypassed these poor wretches to get to the lot where the trucks and jeeps were parked. Xiaolang and his men took as many vehicles as they could drive and roared off to the north. Zeli and LiLing seized a jeep and were right behind them.

  “Where can we go?” LiLing asked, as they bounced along the rough road.

  “There’s only one possibility now.” Zeli kept one hand on the wheel and with the other reached over and squeezed her hand. He felt dismay and horror at the thought that these terrible creatures might harm her. “We have to go north and that means Russia. If they won’t take us in . . .” He left the rest unsaid.

  “Did—did you see what happened to the premier and his family?”

  He nodded. “Sort of. The walls we saw breached were right above the premier’s rooms. I saw many of the creatures breaking in. They didn’t have a chance.”

  Twenty minutes later they reached the main army camp, which had separated into two factions, one diseased, the other fighting back as best they could.

  “It’s here, too!” LiLing cried.

  But they followed Xiaolang’s trucks, circling the obviously sick soldiers, then striking straight through their lines, mowing them down, as they burst into the armed camp of those who were still healthy.

  A young sergeant was in command following the death or sickness of his superiors. His name was Tian Yihang. Xiaolang spoke to him quickly, then ordered the surviving troops into the trucks. Of the general’s several thousand men, there now appeared to be no more than a few hundred who were still healthy, and there was no telling how long they would remain so.

  The trucks roared north, leaving their comrades, now little more than sick animals, behind in a cloud of dust. The road ahead was clear to the Russian border. LiLing wondered how the Russians would react to the sight of a convoy of trucks heading their way.

  Secretary of Defense Walter Whitton was giving the president what must have ranked as the bleakest briefing since the 9/11 terrorist attacks.

  “Many nations are falling to the disease, Mr. President. At least thirteen foreign leaders have called, begging for help. Frankly, I don’t know what we can do, since government in all of the countries has virtually ceased to function. Air and rail services
are nonexistent, as are migration and customs controls. Most foreign borders are wide open, with sick people pouring through by the hundreds of thousands. Quarantine is no longer even a remote possibility. This thing is going worldwide.” Whitton stared bleakly at his feet. “It’s as if the Black Death of the Middle Ages has reappeared. I fear a significant portion of the world’s population is about to be extinguished.”

  “God damn it! I thought we were going to contain this thing,” said Klein. “What the hell happened to our blockade of China, India, and Malaysia?”

  “Hopeless, Mr. President. Somehow, the epidemic got aboard our vessels, and Navy personnel have been ravished. The disease swept right through the closed environments of the ships. They’re perfect breeding grounds. Last word we had, two of our carriers were drifting aimlessly in the South China Sea and at least one battleship has been taken over by a junior lieutenant, mad with sickness, who’s been ordering his men to fire on our own people.”

  “God help us!” The president sank back into his chair. “Gordon, have we heard anything at all from the CDC group in Beijing? I thought they were supposed to be working on a possible treatment.”

  “Nothing, Mr. President. We haven’t heard from them in several days. It’s not a good sign. I suspect if the disease hasn’t gotten them, the looters and general chaos have. I wouldn’t hold out much hope from that quarter.”

  “There must be something we can do!” said Klein.

  The generals and members of the president’s cabinet remained gloomily silent.

  Grasping at straws, Klein said, “What about Logan and our mission to retrieve the glacial body in China? Maybe if our scientists could study it they might come up with something—a treatment.”

  “It’s too late,” said Gordon. “Even if some treatment were found, how could we distribute it with the entire globe completely disrupted? We estimate close to a billion people are now infected across Asia, with hundreds of millions already dead and an equal number on the move away from the epicenters of the outbreak. With the collapse of our Navy, there’s no longer any force working to contain the disease.”