Mitchell picked up the pills and handed them to the old man. “They’re only aspirin. I figured you would have a pounding headache.”
Talbot glared at him for a moment then finally took the aspirin with a swallow of water.
Mitchell placed the digital recorder between them and turned it on. “I want the truth. Why did you keep the last four bio labs open after all the other programs were shut down? We were the last one. I know that. Why not just let us rejoin society and disappear? We accepted our fate and we were prepared to fade into history.”
Talbot’s face looked ashen. “I can’t tell you anything.”
Mitchell took a sip from fresh drink in front of him. “Black Death killed what, millions of people during the Middle Ages? It led to the financial freedom of the Renaissance period. Did you know that the plague jumped from town to town through rats and fleas? People thought the cats caused it so they killed cats while the real enemies, the rat and mouse populations thrived. The fleas jumped from rodent to human. Good thing your dog is outside now. We wouldn’t want him spreading the contagion through this lovely neighborhood. Of course, you are now the main contaminant. Imagine how quickly this will spread when your officers or the police find you. It will probably kill main services like the police and the doctors at the hospital where they'll take your body. By the time they know what you have, it will be spreading through their homes, their streets and beyond.”
Mitchell leaned forward as the old man struggled to sit upright. “You’ve had a rather large dose of microbes, quite a bit more than the average flea bite. It won’t take long.”
“You bastard.” He whispered.
“Yes, general, I am. However, let’s not forget that you and Forester and others made me this way. I’m a mass murderer because of you. I killed most of my friends in those last days. They begged for mercy and I couldn’t watch them suffer. You’d be amazed at how easy killing is again after so much practice.”
“You have no proof I was involved in anything.”
Mitchell nodded his head. “True, the weeks that I walked between houses feeding and caring for those I could, it never occurred to me to take a video record. I didn’t think of escape either because of the snipers that hid in the hills. Others tried of course and were shot off the fences. Of course, you understand what I’m talking about.” He pushed the picture of Talbot’s wife across the table. Mitchell guessed it was one of the last ones taken. The woman in the picture was smiling but thin and haggard with age, quite the opposite of most of the pictures on the mantel. “Your wife suffered for months as the cancer ate away at her. How did it make you feel to watch her die, knowing you couldn't do anything about it?”
He fished a picture of his family out of his wallet and placed it next to the framed photo. “Imagine my beautiful wife, my Caroline with her face red and swollen, the vessels in her skin breaking one by one. And my daughter, Katie. She was destined to go off to college next year. Instead, I watched her cry tears of blood. Watched her shake with pain as she died by my hand.” His voice cracked as he finished. “Forgive me if I didn’t gather pictures of them in that condition.”
“We took pictures.” The general sat upright, eyes downcast staring at the two pictures side by side. He spoke softly. “The clean-up crews took photographs before bulldozing the place so we could complete our analysis. We needed human trials on Marburg. We wanted to learn something from the experiment then the deaths had meaning.” He looked up at the horror in Mitchell’s face. “I’d never seen anything like it. For what it's worth, I’m sorry they suffered.”
Mitchell’s eyes widened and he shook. His fist clenched white around the glass. Screaming, he threw the glass at the wall behind the general’s head. It exploded, showering liquid and glass bits over the carpet. He fought to control the rage, “‘We?! Who is we?” he said through his clenched jaws.
The general swung his legs off the couch and tried to stand up only to fall back again. His skin took on a gray pallor. Tears began to leak slowly down his rough cheeks. “I can’t tell you.”
Minutes passed as Mitchell fought to control his breathing and his anger. “You’re sorry,” he finally growled. “How I wish that meant something to me.” He pulled his jacket straight with a yank and sat down again.
“You killed my dog?” The old man’s eyes closed in pain.
Mitchell sat back and sighed. The pictures of the wife and children, the couple together holding their pet. The dog was the general’s only companion now, his last connection to a fading life. “No General, she's still alive, just sleeping. I'm not the expert at lying like you are. I won’t hurt your dog. I don't kill innocents. That seems to be your expertise.”
“Mrs. Noriega takes care of her while I’m gone. She’s good to her. She lives in unit 32, down the street.”
Mitchell nodded. “I understand.”
The general sat in silence for a few moments. “I can’t give you names. I can tell you everything else but I won’t tell you names. After more than thirty years in the service, my loyalty is all I have left. I won’t betray those men. My loyalty must mean something." He took a long shuddering breath, wiping his face with one thick hand. “Why should I tell you anything? What does it matter? You can’t get to the cryo-units. They’re too secure.”
“It’s not up to me to find the cryo-units. The public must know they exist.”
“There are no public records of any of the eight original bio labs existing past 2017. We made sure of that. Orders came through to shut them down then, and to the eyes of the public, we did. We closed the first two immediately, publicly and then two a few years later. Their work eventually folded into the other labs. Those people transferred back into society through vet hospitals and the CDC. After that, we slowed down, making excuses to spend years closing each one and altering the designation of the remaining labs in the records. We diverted funds, set up false clinic fronts. The government doesn’t know anything about them now. If they find out about the lab or you, they’ll stop you from going public. There’ll be too much harm to the international policy. If they find you, they’ll kill you just to hush it all up again. I didn't invent killing risky personnel. The government often kills to keep its secrets. I’ll be held accountable of my actions before I'm executed but you’ll still be dead. You’ll gain nothing, son.”
Mitchell leaned back against his chair and crossed one leg over the other. “I need to know. What I do with the information is my business. If no one believes me then it doesn’t matter what you confess. If they kill me, well then my death's long overdue. It matters to you, however. The longer you stall in telling me, the longer the disease works through your system. The more symptoms you have by the time you start treatment, the less likely you’ll survive even with massive amounts of antibiotics. then there's your body. You'll be patient zero for the next world plague. It will spread from you, killing millions or even billions before it's stopped.” He paused and took another sip. “What’s it going to be, General? I can wait as long as I need to.”
“Did you know that America slipped in economic superiority to third, behind China and India? It’s a well-known fact in most economic circles but not to the public. We predicted it about ten years back but no one did anything. Oh, we still have some of the wealthiest people in the world here, but the spread of wealth is thinner. Our economy polarizes between rich and poor. More importantly, steady stream of funds constantly flows out of the country and it's increasing. More foreign powers act as owners of U.S. companies than ever before.” Talbot sighed, shifting in his seat. He took a long pull from the water glass before dropping his hands back in his lap again.
“Okay, so what?”
“So America’s losing its superiority economically and the military might is not far behind. Over the last eight years, China has pushed us in some form of conflict for years and we have backed down. First the incursions into South Korea; then the arming of rebels in Thailand. Now there’s this disastrous idea that they will hol
d hostage the orbital space above their country. And what do our leaders do? They offer peace treaties and trade sanctions. Americans are worn out by the fifteen years of conflict in the Middle East. They are afraid of war.”
“So you wanted first strike capability.”
“No. In the beginning, we wanted protection from first strike. In 2004, we had irrefutable proof that the Chinese had bio and chemical warfare development. They funded extensive research in several third world nations. On that basis alone, we created the original bio labs. We searched the graduate schools for the brightest minds of the time. In 2015, we showed President Henderson the results of those labs: clear vaccines, some cures, and weapons ready to go. The bastard said shut it all down. He went against the advice of every member of the Joint Chiefs and the State Department. Two members resigned on that decision alone. Most of those men wanted to quit because of that bastard president but they stayed in place to defuse the damage by so many ruinous decisions.
“Several of us decided to reroute funds and keep some of the labs open. The military had ignored a presidential order that was ignored for the good of the nation. After all, those bastards only serve four or eight years. We signed up for life. We protect the country even from those that would carelessly destroy it from the inside. ” He wiped the beads of sweat from his forehead on his sleeve. “A few of us colluded to keep a few labs open and make sure the weapons were available when we needed them."
“That’s treason.”
“It depends on how you look at it. The government needs the weapons, and we plan to have them for the country as part of its arsenal. Once we provided proof that three of the labs were shut down, Congress took for granted that we stopped them all.”
“Why shut us down now? Why kill us?
The general took another long drink. “My god, it’s hot in here.” He lolled with his head back resting for a few minutes before continuing. “Last month, using orbital laser technology, China shot down two satellites. One was an outdated communications satellite and the other was a weather station, only four years old. Our response was more urgent phone calls. More summit talks. We rerouted most of our satellites but we can’t keep continuing to move them. China knows that. At the same time, they put up three more satellites in direct orbit over the U.S. We think that at least some of them contain laser technology. It's a slap in our face and yet we do nothing. This new President Davison, we’ve shown him proof of Chinese buildups in fleet and air support. We’ve shown him increased activity along the Chinese-Russian border. They're preparing to make a move. We lost control and we need it back, decisively.”
“So you want to start a war with them first.”
“We’re at war now. War isn’t tank battles on your home front any more. It's fights and skirmishes of power in a dozen little shit-hole places across the globe. When the enemy changes the sphere of influence in a third world country, then you must counter it with supplies to terrorist organizations. Winning a war becomes the ability to destroy your enemy, plain and simple. The greatest weapon in the arsenal isn’t bombs or even your diseases; it is the fear factor of using them. You create the unthinkable weapon and let it slip to the enemy so he backs down. You push, he backs down.
"We had an older model destroyer go down within the Taiwan Strait. Our Pacific fleet had an ETA of less than an hour for rescue but the Chinese government denied access. We’ve got satellite film showing Chinese ships within a hundred yards of the wreck and refusing to help. They claimed our people were spying on their technology. Our people drown while they watched. What did we do? The President publicly admonished them. What bullshit! No, we are at war now, today and China is winning.”
He paused again, gasping slightly. After taking another sip of water, he continued, “We needed something to strike at their economic and political core but we’re not strong enough for an outright fight. What better than an epidemic? You said it yourself. Disease changed the course of human history. The flow of plague across Europe freed up money but it also added to the end of the Crusades. Sick people can’t fight and battling an epidemic takes resources. Disease changes history all over again.”
Mitchell stared at him. “You can’t control it. Biological weapons don’t stop at legal boundaries. They can’t be programmed for nationality.”
Talbot grinned weakly, “You’re right but modern medicine does work along boundaries and trade routes. We put the infection in one of the cities along a trade route. Some of the disease gets out of the country but not before it's rampant across the Chinese provinces. News leaks in the same way it did with the SARS virus and the haemmeragic fever. Stories create fear, which in turn, dictates politics. No one will trade with them.” Despite the sweat, Talbot’s eyes gleamed, his jaw set in a grim smile. “Ships will be sent back unloaded. Planes forced to turn around. The world will cut them off the way a surgeon cuts off a gangrenous hand to save the body. Some’ll die here but they’ll be isolated. We have vaccines. We’ll survive while China, losing fifty percent or more of its population and billions of dollars, will be damaged so badly, it’ll take years to recover economically and militarily.”
“Where are the cryo-units now?”
“It doesn’t matter. They’re safe at a base on the West Coast. Even if I die, my collaborators can see the plan through. There’s no stopping it now.”
“Who’re your partners?”
Talbot grinned weakly. “Sorry. You can shoot me or we can settle in for a long wait while this disease kills me but I won’t tell you. I’ve been in combat, was tortured as a prisoner of war. I’ve seen worse than you can dish out. Yes, I’m afraid to die but there are things out there worth dying for.”
He stared unblinking at Mitchell until Mitchell turned off the digital recorder. “There’s enough here to stop you.”
“I doubt it. Forester’s death alerted us to your presence. Even now, my people are working to eliminate and discredit you. If you get the recording to anyone else in time and if you get them to believe it, you may catch up with the units. That’s a lot of ifs. I don’t think you can do it.”
“Let’s hope for the world’s sake, I can.”
Talbot coughed weakly, winced and put a hand to his head. “What you don’t understand, boy; what none of those damn presidents understood was that freedom costs. The price includes higher vigilance, better weaponry and being the better bastard. If we do not pay those costs, America falls. That’s not going to happen while I’m around.”
“Fortunately for America sir, you won’t be around much longer.” Mitchell shook his head sadly, speaking low and quiet.
An hour later, Mitchell moved quietly as he finished his preparations. The disease and concussion had combined leaving the general asleep on the couch in the living room, his head lolling back. The note affixed outside of the door warned anyone approaching that the man had a dangerously contagious condition.
Mitchell had a harder time with the dog. Still groggy from the drugs, the terrier refused to walk and was awkward to carry down the street. His struggles with the awaking animal drew quite a few glances but Mitchell ignored them. Without bothering to knock, he deposited the animal on the front porch and tied its leash to the doorknob.
Brushing dog hair off his suit, Mitchell sauntered back to Talbot’s place, letting himself in through the front door. He pulled the small cell phone from his pocket and punched the buttons for 911. After two rings, the dispatcher responded. Mitchell launched into the speech he had practiced over and over the night before.
“Hello? I found a man. He looks sick, real sick. I don’t think he’s breathing too well. I think he’s dying.” He gave the address and then turned the phone off before tossing it on the coffee table besides the General. When the first sirens sounded in the distance, he smiled and slipped out, garbage bag in hand through the back door.
Chapter 13
July 1, 2026
With the fourth only four days away, DC fills up to the limits with visitors and tourists are s
till arriving. DC and Park Police are reporting that tourists are sleeping in their cars and illegally camping in parks all over the metropolitan area. Hotels are booked to capacity as everyone arrives for the biggest celebration America has seen in years.
“Off,” Dorado sighed as the vid-screen on the wall faded back to matching the pale yellow wall coloring. Sherrie’s apartment was much like her way of dress, elegant but simple arrangement in colors of pastel yellows, blues, and whites. The only real riot of color was coming from the dark red rose and white carnation flower arrangement on the small kitchen table. Her placed lacked the high level of technology often common in other DC homes. The small TV screen hung against the living room wall looked to be recent while the kitchen appliances ran on ten-year-old technology without computer chips. She lacked any of the voice-remote security and entertainment machines that had slowly become standard over the last seven years. His own kitchen in Maryland was technologically bleak too but more from lack of funds and caring than a conscious decision.
“It amazes me that you don’t just buy the instant packages. It’s kind of hard to find the raw ingredients any more, isn’t it?” He watched her prepare the salad and pasta meal by hand. She treated it like a ritual, cleaning and cutting the food, cooking it over electronic coils rather than through the faster microwave.
She smiled and glanced at him sideways while chopping the carrot into neat little bites. “In the normal stores and the standard delivery ‘nets, yes. They have the hydroponics stuff that tastes bland to me. The greenies still run markets here and there during the growing season. They sell produce straight from the dirt. The flavor is more intense. I also have a few friends in the restaurant business who help me get some of the rarer spices and cheeses. Plus, I know about a few gourmet stores.”
“Expensive?”
“Yes, but worth it. It tastes better and is cheaper than eating out every night at the places I like. Also, I find there's something Zen-like in putting a meal together.”
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