The Immortality Virus

by Christine Amsden

  “Go ahead,” Alex told the farmer. “Let me know when it’s clear.”

  With a nod, the farmer headed towards the flight of stairs and disappeared a few seconds later.

  “Is there any chance I’ll find out what’s going on?” Grace asked.

  “Have a seat. I don’t know how long we’ll be.” Alex gestured to one of the chairs. When Grace sat, he took a steel chair across from her and reached behind the desk for something she hadn’t noticed immediately–her backpack.

  “I managed to hide this from Carl,” Alex said. “It’s a good thing, I think.”

  “Is it?”Grace studied the face of the man seated across from her. It was weary, lined in ways it had not been a few days before, as if he’d restarted the aging process.

  “You’ve created quite a stir,” Alex said, “and somehow you’ve managed to do it without anyone knowing for sure what you’re after.” He removed the diary from the backpack and stared at it for a time. “I had no idea it was my grandfather.”

  “You don’t believe it?”

  Alex shook his head. “Oh, I believe it. The last time we all saw him he was just crazy enough... I hate to think he did. He was a good man, believe it or not. He just fell apart when his wife... It doesn’t matter.”

  “A good man accused of killing his coworkers,” Grace reminded him.

  Alex’s face went slightly pink. “I never thought he did that. It didn’t even make sense. Not as long as his wife was alive and he still had hope.”

  Since Grace had come to the same conclusion, she simply nodded. “Well, if he’s a good man maybe he’ll be willing to help. He’s had four hundred years to think about what he’s done.”

  “Lots of good people don’t want anti-aging reversed.”

  Grace’s face flushed, but she had no answer.

  “I’m on your side, though, just so we’re clear,” Alex said.

  She studied his face, especially his eyes. Somewhere, someone had said they were the window to the soul. She didn’t believe it. People could lie with their eyes as easily as any other part of their body. Still, she liked Alex’s eyes. They made her want to believe him. “I guessed, or maybe I hoped. I need to trust someone, I think, or I’ll never get out of this mess.”

  “Is it hard for you to trust?” Alex asked.

  “Most of the time, too much trust will kill someone in my line of work. This time, though, I think I have no chance without trust, and precious little chance with it.”

  “I’d normally say you were cynical, but this time you’re probably right. You have no idea what kind of politics are at play here.”

  “Give me an idea.”

  Alex took a deep breath. “Let’s start with the Kansas City Establishment. Half of them want you released so you can get Mr. Stanton for them, although I think they’ll try to kill you afterward. The other half just want you dead. Oh, and then there’s Mr. Stanton himself. He’s sent people to find you, but I’m not supposed to know they’re his men.”

  “How do you know?”

  Alex waved a hand dismissively. “Carl is the one who had you thrown on the farm in the first place. He put a call in to his father, my uncle, when you arrived and Uncle Ethan apparently thought the very fact you were looking for Grandpa made you a threat. He knows something, but he won’t say what. He doesn’t know everything, though, because he wanted you held until he could get here.”

  “Is he here?”

  “Oh yes. That’s when the problems on the farm began. Carl couldn’t find you, which made his father mad, so he started having farmers search for you. I had already secretly asked a few men I trust to find you for me, and when Uncle Ethan came to the farm, I stepped up my search. I’m afraid that’s why so many died today. It was not my intention.”

  “Isn’t there some kind of chain of command here?” Grace asked.

  “Yes, but Mr. Cooper came down ill and the line of succession is not clear. His oldest son is moving to take command now, but at least half the farmers here hate him and are hoping—even praying—Mr. Cooper named someone else in his will.”

  “He hasn’t made it public?” Grace asked.

  “Rich men don’t like to make the contents of their wills public,” Alex told her. “Their inheritors could get impatient.”

  “Oh.”

  “Anyway, Roy has decided that whatever Carl’s into sounds profitable and is backing him up, partly to share in the profit and partly to purposefully go against his father and find out who he can trust. Mr. Cooper is with me on this issue, but a lot of people are eager to please the new boss.”

  “Will Mr. Cooper recover?” Grace asked.

  Alex took a deep breath. “I hope so, but he’s an old old timer. He was pushing his luck to live this long, being effectively frozen at eighty years old for four hundred years. We have a nasty strain of flu going around this farm that’s got about a fifty percent mortality rate, and he’s caught it”

  “Is that everything?” Grace asked.

  Alex shrugged. “Rumors...nothing substantial. I’ve even heard the name William Edgers floating around, but that may just be because he’s a friend of Mr. Cooper’s.”

  “William the Bloody?” Grace said without thinking. She thought back to recent news reports, trying to make sense of it. Why would he want to get involved in any of this? He was supposed to be busy subduing cities and reunifying the country.

  “That’s what some of The Establishment are calling him,” Alex said. “It’s propaganda. I don’t know how much of what they’re saying about him is true, but I know Mr. Cooper and don’t believe he would have such an evil man as a friend.”

  Grace didn’t have anything to say to that. She hoped she never needed to learn the truth.

  “So,” Alex said after an awkward pause, “do you know if my grandfather is alive?”

  “You don’t?” Grace asked.

  “I told you I don’t know where he is.”

  She believed him. What remained was whether or not to tell him what she knew.

  “He must have lived for a while after he finished this diary,” Alex continued. “I mean, the shooting took place two days later and he hadn’t finished his work. I was kind of wondering when and how he did if he was on the run from the law.”

  “I don’t know,” Grace admitted. She remembered asking herself the same question a few days ago and then putting it out of her mind. Perhaps she should have pursued that line of investigation a bit more instead of acting on Matt’s suggestion to track down Alex. At least then she wouldn’t be trapped on a farm right now.

  “So, do you know if he’s alive?” Alex asked.

  “I know he was two months ago,” Grace said finally, “but I won’t say how I know that.”

  “Wow. I never imagined.” Alex’s eyes unfocused, and he stared off into space.

  Grace took another long look at her surroundings, not because there was anything else in that small space to see, but because she needed some time to think and because she wanted to leave Alex to his private thoughts.

  She had never been in such a dire predicament. When she’d taken the job, she knew there would be danger, especially if The Establishment caught wind of her mission, but she’d had no idea how many different groups would want a piece of her. Was there any way to navigate through this murky situation and return to her old life? Probably not. If she survived, she might have to go into hiding, change her identity, and never speak to her family again.

  Suddenly, she longed for one of her mother’s annoying calls.

  “What’s on your mind?” Alex asked through the deafening silence. His voice sounded distant, as if Grace had wandered far in her mind.

  “I know I’m too old, but I was thinking about my mother.”

  Alex shook his head. “I don’t think we ever get too old for that.”

  “Do we get too old to die?” Grace asked. “You know what I’m hoping will happen if I find your grandfather. We’ll all die of extreme old age. I know it’s the right thing
and yet–”

  “You’re afraid. I think that’s pretty human of you. If it makes you feel any better, you’ll probably have another fifty years of life even after you start aging again. It’s not like your body would instantly become.... how old are you?”

  “One hundred and thirty.”

  “Right.”

  “Is there a way out of here?” Grace asked.

  Alex shrugged. “There are lots of exits...the front door, the hoverport, and even a tunnel leading to town. The question is, can I get my men on any of them?”

  “Well, can you?”

  “We’ll just have to wait and see.”

  Chapter 17

  How much time had passed? She missed her portable, which could chirp the time to her with a simple sub-vocal command. Even a window would help. For all she knew, she had been sitting like a zombie for over a day.

  After their initial dialog, Alex did not prove to be up for conversation, so they sat in silence, listening to the hum of the building. It had a rhythm to it-the heating system waging a war against the elements, the electrical system sparking light and life, the plumbing moving water and refuse through the pipes.

  At first, the sounds were annoying. Then they became a comforting lullaby sending her drifting off into light midday sleep. Then she woke, and they became maddening.

  Finally, the sound of footsteps joined the background hum, and the farmer emerged, a stony expression on his face. “They’re everywhere today, looking for you and her. We may have to wait for that search to die down. If they don’t find you, they may think you’ve already gone.”

  Alex exhaled slowly. “I was afraid of that. Keep an eye out and let us know when we should make our move.”

  Without a word, the farmer disappeared again.

  “So, this really is a prison,” Grace muttered. Her earlier impression of the place closed in around her and the staircase just looked like another kind of wall–a more fatal kind.

  “Huh?”

  “Never mind.”

  “We could talk, you know,” Alex said. “This is going to be a long enough wait as it is with the silence.”

  “You’re the one...” Grace stopped and reconsidered. She hadn’t actually made any attempts at conversation either, now that she thought of it. Oh well, maybe it was better that way. In silence she could find and maintain a resolve to only trust Alexander Lacklin so far. If they talked, his soulful eyes and deep, soothing voice might lull her into a false sense of security.

  “So, why don’t you tell me about yourself?” Alex asked.

  “Because I don’t know you.”

  Alex blinked a couple of times and then smiled, the first real smile she had seen on him. She liked it. It suited him. “I did rescue you twice, you know.”

  Yes, and she still didn’t quite like the fact she had needed rescue. “All right, fine. What do you want to know?”

  “How about your family? You know all about mine, after all.”

  Grace hesitated, and then shook her head. “I can’t tell you about my family. There’s just too much risk right now.”

  “So you care about them. That’s a good start. Probably more important than their names, ranks, and serial numbers anyway.”

  Grace almost smiled. “Fine. You win. You learned something about me. That makes it my turn.” She decided to throw caution to the wind and ask what she’d been dying to ask since she first met him. “What kind of person takes a job on a farm?”

  “That’s not what you want to know. You want to know why I took this job.”

  “Isn’t it all the same?”

  “No.” Alex made the word a simple matter of fact, neither angry nor hurt. “A lot of people work here for money or power. Farming corporations make a lot of money. Everyone has to eat, after all, and food is at a premium.”

  “But that’s not why you came.”

  Alex didn’t answer right away. He seemed to be collecting his thoughts. Finally, he said, “You have to understand that when I grew up, slavery was an abomination. It wasn’t just slaves were mistreated or there were rumors about Soylent Green. It was just the height of evil for one human being to own another. There used to be slavery in the United States.”

  “I’ve read history,” Grace cut in.

  “Have you now?” Alex raised an eyebrow and shot her a sly smile. “That tells me something about you, too. Not many have nowadays, especially not the pre-Change history.”

  “What does that tell you about me?” Grace asked.

  “Either you’re a sentimentalist, dreaming of earlier glory, or an intellectualist. Given your quest, I’m guessing the former.”

  “Couldn’t I just love history?”

  “Nah. You’re too busy.”

  They stared at one another in silence for a while. “Did your slave story have a point?” Grace asked, finally.

  “Ah, yes. So, slavery was an abomination when I grew up, and then The Change came and there weren’t any jobs and people fled to the countryside to try to live off the land. Some people saw it coming, of course, but I was naive. I never imagined the culture that deplored slavery would one day embrace it again. Then the farms hired workers for nothing but room and board. Then they went with some kind of indentured servitude arrangement, the terms of which were never fulfilled. Then it became official. By the time they called it what it was, the farm workers had already lost all their freedoms and much of their humanity.”

  Grace let out a noise somewhere between a bark and a laugh. Then she blushed and tried to cover it with words. “You don’t spend much time with them, then. You can’t take humanity.”

  “I see. I’m sure you’re right. You have just been thrust in with them for almost a week.”

  “You should spend some time with them, too. Some of them tried to kill me, yeah, but I think that’s human, too.” Grace paused to figure out how to put her thoughts into words. “They don’t have much, but even they have a hierarchy of power and cling to their fiefdoms.

  “They can also be fiercely loyal. When Meg convinced her clan to accept me, they protected me. That’s why it took you so long to find me.”

  “Someone turned you in.”

  “I turned myself in, and let my clan get the credit for it. You were about to do barracks by barracks searches and probably kill lots of people while you were at it.”

  “So you don’t just care about your family, then?” Alex teased. “I know more about you all the time.”

  “A clan is a family,” Grace replied, though she knew she had not been there quite long enough to feel that strongly about Sharon’s clan–except possibly for Meg. “Look, you still haven’t made your point.”

  “Oh yes, slaves. So, I wanted to do something. That’s why I’m here. I wanted to make life better for the slaves on this farm–and I did. Mr. Cooper was much more reasonable than people said he would be. Then again, he’s an old timer like me, so he grew up in the same world. I convinced him slaves with better food, shorter working days, and reasonable expectations would work harder and better. In the end, I not only made things better for the slaves on this farm, but I increased productivity. Carl never forgave me after that. He was trying to convince Mr. Cooper to enforce harsher penalties for poor work performance.”

  “How generous of you,” Grace said dryly. “You come here and offer your services in exchange for letting one plantation of slaves have some extra food and nicer conditions. They’re still slaves. Yeah, Meg thinks this place is heaven compared to whatever hell she was raised on, but that’s just because she doesn’t know any better.”

  Alex frowned and his eyes darkened. “I’m also trying to find ways to get more nutrition out of less food so one day we won’t need slaves anymore.”

  “Oh.” That sounded like something Sam would do–try to save the world through science rather than force. “Wait. What do all the slaves do when they’re no longer needed?”

  Alex licked his lips and swallowed. “That’s a good question. I’m hoping for an ans
wer soon.” He looked to the stairs as if expecting someone to drop in on their conversation. “I’ve actually–Actually, I think it’s your turn to answer a question.” He straightened up. “Why’d you take this job?”

  The sloppy redirection took Grace a minute to get over. He was hiding something, but what? “I-er, I took the job because...” She stopped and tried to sort through all the reasons she had taken the job. “I want us to go back to normal aging. I’d love to help and this is the first time I’ve found a real way to do so.”

  “You’ll probably get killed.”

  “That’s a drawback, yes,” Grace admitted. “It’s worth it if I can do some good. I should have died years ago, anyway. Besides, I think Matt would have made sure I died if I had not taken the job.”

  “I see.”

  “So, what were you about to say before you stopped yourself a minute ago?” Grace tried to meet Alex’s gaze, but he looked to the side, staring at a spot on the wall.

  “That’s probably enough talking.” Alex reached for Grace’s backpack and tossed it to her. “I managed to get your portable back for you. All the pieces are in there; you just have to plug them in.”

  She should have felt relieved that he no longer wanted to get personal, but for some reason she didn’t want to stop talking. An hour ago she had been content to wall herself inside her own mind, but now there seemed to be a hole that needed filling. Had her life been incomplete before?

  “Don’t get on the nets or they’ll trace you,” Alex warned.

  “I know that,” Grace snapped. She wished she could check her messages, but that would have to wait–unless the portable had managed to download any in her absence.

  “Fifty new messages,” the portable intoned. “Tuesday, eleven oh five a.m.”

  “Hi, it’s Sam. Matt just wants an update. Give me a call when you get this.”

  “Tuesday, eight thirty-seven p.m.”

  “Hi, it’s Sam again. I’m still at work so you can call me here or at home as late as you like. Matt’s getting kind of worried and wants you to check in.”

  “Tuesday, ten twelve p.m.”

  “Grace, Matt seems to think something’s wrong. He won’t say how he knows, but I think he’s been having you watched...for your own safety, of course.”