Dawn Over Doomsday ac-4

by Jaspre Bark

  "What's a biogenic field?"

  "All multi-cellular life forms emanate a bio-electrical field as a by product of the biochemical energy they use. We were able to prove it was this biogenic field that drives their survival mechanisms and gives them a sense of themselves as separate entities. We went on to create a virus that can generate a unified biogenic field. A virus capable of seeing itself as separate from anything it infects, and of fighting to protect its survival.

  "We even solved the problem of intelligence. If the virus was able to interact in a malignant fashion with the DNA of other organisms then it could also interact in a benign way. It could borrow not only the central nervous system of another organism, but also its intelligence. If the host organism were human this would give them direct control over the deadliest weapon ever created. They could choose whoever lived and whoever died anywhere on the planet.

  "There were other things we coded into our 'Doomsday Virus'. Things not even our superiors knew about. The Doomsday Virus would alter the DNA of its human host and keep them alive indefinitely, making them virtually immortal. Not only that but it could grant immortality to anyone they infected by altering their DNA. They would have the power of a god."

  "So if this stuff infects you," said Linda. "You become a god right?"

  "No. You die. There were so many determinate factors involved in becoming a host to a the virus that the likelihood of anyone being born with all of them was statistically impossible. So we had to genetically engineer a host from scratch. There were many trials and more errors than I dare admit, but eventually we were able to successfully create five human embryos capable of becoming a host to the virus.

  "It was at this point that those of us working on the project realised our lives were in danger. The people we worked for thought they had what they wanted and, in order to maintain security, planned to expunge anyone with knowledge of the project. So we took the infants we had created, when they were nine months old and hid them where they wouldn't be found.

  "I parted ways with my colleagues after this. Eventually they resolved the issue and most of them resumed working for the shadow government, coming in from the cold they call it. Before they could retrieve any of the child hosts The Cull hit and that was the one variable we could never have accounted for. It never crossed our minds that someone else would unleash a virus that attacked blood groups. That one simple mistake lost us four of the five hosts.

  "Only one host had the Diego antigen. The single gene SLC4AI, most commonly found in certain ethnic groups such as Native Americans, that makes them immune to the AB virus that caused The Cull. That host had been placed in an Amish community as a tiny baby."

  "Why sir," said Anna. "You're talking about me."

  "That's right Anna," said Greaves as though he were congratulating a bright child. "Did you never wonder why you were the only Native American girl growing up in an isolated community?"

  "My momma and poppa never spoke about such matters. My poppa did say God had picked me out with a special plan in mind though."

  Linda was so wrapped up in the conversation that she nearly missed the turn. A lot of things were starting to make sense, such as why Anna spoke in that quaint, old fashioned manner.

  "After The Cull there was only one record of your whereabouts," said Greaves. "I got to it before they did. When the first outbreaks of the AB virus occurred, I realised what was going to happen. I knew it would quickly take out most of the population and I knew what would be valuable in the sort of world that would exist afterwards.

  "So as civilisation slowly came to an end I spent every day that I could hacking into classified government databases, not to mention a few private ones. I found out where all the secret stashes were. Our former government and its branches had been stockpiling all kinds of things for years, from weapons to drugs and gold. I tracked down the sites that weren't likely to be looted and I've been living off them ever since.

  "I used the same technique to find you Anna. By the time I got to you of course, you weren't there. I've been looking for you ever since. Now that I've finally found you, we need to get to Montana."

  "And what, pray tell," said Anna. "Is in Montana?"

  "The only surviving strains of the Doomsday Virus. They're in a laboratory run by my former colleagues."

  "You mean they survived The Cull?" said Linda. "How the fuck?"

  "They are sponsored by an organisation with more resources than the combined former governments of the world," said Greaves, dismissing her. "You don't think a minor thing like the death of nine tenths of the population is going to stop them do you?"

  "Sir," said Anna. "I don't hold to understand even half of what you've told us. So forgive me if I have this wrong. But you are saying that I was made by men and not of a mother and father, and that this was done so I could control a disease that could kill everyone left alive?"

  "Or make them live forever, its your choice."

  "Why, that is the work of the Devil!"

  "No Anna, no it's not," said Greaves. "It's the work of science. Don't you see? You could create a new Eden. You could rid the world of all those who want to oppress others and enslave them. You could reward the just with life everlasting. There are enough natural resources left on the planet to turn it into a paradise. One that we could enjoy for all eternity."

  There was silence for a long while after this. Linda, Cortez and, especially, Anna simply sat and tried to process everything that Greaves had told them. Tried to comprehend what it meant to their tenuous alliance and the outcome of their journey.

  Anna looked more terrified than Linda had ever seen her. She crawled to the back of Bertha and curled up on her bunk. Her frightened prayers could be heard for the rest of the night.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  Two miles south of Lame Deer, on the North Cheyenne reservation, Ahiga motioned for them to reign in their horses. They were on a rise covered with Ponderosa pines. To their right and below the Tongue River rolled through the valley. Up ahead of them was the site of a sacred burial ground reserved for Chiefs. It was this that Ahiga had taken Hiamovi and the two other braves to see.

  The burial ground was in a clearing on top of the largest hill in the area. Through the binoculars Ahiga handed him, Hiamovi could see there were about a hundred or more white men and women on the hallowed ground. They had already erected makeshift dwellings and seemed to be engaged in constructing a large metal tower.

  "Do we know what they're up to?" said Hiamovi.

  "They're Neo-Clergy," said Ahiga. "That's some sort of a television transmitter they're building."

  "Why was I not told of this sooner? This is happening on my tribal territory."

  "You've been travelling great Chief. The affairs of the UTN have demanded all your attention. The Neo-Clergy only appeared a week or so ago. They brought the building materials with them and set to work straight away. This is the first chance we've had to show you."

  "I thought both television and the Neo-Clergy were dead."

  "They're making a come-back. The Neo-Clergy never lost Colorado, now they're moving out across the south and Mid-West. There are pockets of resistance among the white man, mainly in Utah and Wyoming. Seems not everyone was that happy when they were in charge. They're gaining control of most towns and settlements in Kansas and Nebraska though, mostly without a shot being fired."

  "Why are they building a transmitter so far from their territory?"

  "They are hoping to restart their television broadcasts," said Ahiga. "I don't know if you ever saw it great Chief, but they used to send out a broadcast called The Tomorrow Show for an hour every week. It was a big part of the strength of their organisation. My sources tell me that they hope to use it as a propaganda tool to overcome resistance in areas holding out against them."

  "But why are they using our land?"

  "Two reasons. First, they're testing us. They want to see how much of a threat we might be in these early days when they're vulnerable to atta
ck, when they don't have the kind of network and resources they used to. My sources also tell me that they don't have the manpower to take Wyoming and North and South Dakota by force, not to mention Montana. With this signal booster they can reach most states west of Wisconsin and Mississippi. As soon as the white man knows about the broadcasts they'll be able to tune in on just about any workable television set, as long as they've got a generator."

  "Tell me brother, these sources you mention. I've been hearing mutterings about them. Some of our brothers and sisters are suspicious."

  "Great Chief -"

  "It's flattering that you want to call me that Ahiga. But most people in the UTN just use my name."

  "Doesn't Hiamovi mean Chief of Chiefs in the language of the Tsistsistas?"

  "It does," Hiamovi said. He was impressed Ahiga knew the name his people gave themselves. It meant 'like hearted people', Cheyenne came from the Sioux's name for them: Shahiena. "Let us get back to your contacts."

  "Great chi… Hiamovi. Many in the UTN have a past they're not proud of, I'm no exception. The fact that you overcame your past was a big part of why I joined, like a lots of members. You showed us how we could be Native Americans and powerful with it. To be proud of our heritage without slinking back to our reservations with our tails between our legs. My contacts come from the days before The Cull. I lived in Boulder. In my teens. I used to run with one of the gangs that formed the Neo-Clergy when they took over Colorado. I know some of the guys involved and from time to time I get in touch. It helps to find out what they're up to."

  "And what do they want from you?"

  "The same thing, information. I don't give them anything real, that they can use. I just make stuff up that they want to hear."

  "How do you know they don't do the same?"

  "Because I check everything they tell me," said Ahiga. "I don't bother telling anyone the stuff we can't use. I know these guys, I know how their minds work. So do you Chief."

  Hiamovi nodded and turned back to the men and women on the burial ground. Through the binoculars he could see about twelve armed men. They were all wearing a uniform of white robes with a red 'O' on them, which was the Neo-Clergy symbol, and hats that looked like a cross between a beret and religious 'kippah'. These were soldiers.

  "They've deliberately chosen a burial ground," said Hiamovi. "They must know we're going to be outraged. Those are the noblest of our ancestors they're desecrating."

  "I think they chose that site for it it's height and the range it'll give the transmitter," said Ahiga. "These men care little for our ways and customs. I don't think it crossed their minds to check if we held this land dear."

  "I'm not so sure. Do you think they could be drawing us out? Are they trying to lure us into a trap?"

  "I have scouts out combing the surrounding area. None of them have reported reinforcements. I think this is all there is in the way of any troops. They just have those men there to protect what they're doing, not to incite an attack."

  "And you think we should attack. Am I right?"

  "This is the perfect opportunity to unite the tribes behind the UTN. To show them what a threat the white man is becoming to our way of life. If we let them march onto Cheyenne land and take whatever they want, where are they going to stop? Nothing unites people like a common enemy."

  "Or destroys them."

  "You're right of course. But only if that enemy is stronger than us. The Neo-Clergy are vulnerable and won't be expecting a full scale retaliation. We could strike a blow for the cause and inspire many to take up arms alongside us. Once they know what a threat the white man's becoming, and once they've seen how bravely we vanquished them, they'll flock to us. They'll have to for their own protection. Nothing brings safety like large numbers."

  Hiamovi was silent. So Ahiga pressed his advantage. "I know your people, the Tsistsistas, fought for this land. When all the other tribes were accepting the tiny reservations given them by the white man, you were still fighting. Time and again they tried to take you down, to capture your people and move them back to land they'd designated for you. Time and again you escaped their clutches and beat them back. You forced them to give you this land. That's the only reason there's a Cheyenne reservation in Montana. You beat General Crook, General Custer and the whole of Fort Robinson. It's time for the Cheyenne to show the rest of our people how to hold back the white man again. To finish what our ancestors started and to make this whole land ours once more."

  Hiamovi liked what Ahiga had to say. There was undoubted wisdom in his words and this did seem to provide an opportunity to increase their power base. "What the white man does here is an outrage," he said. "Don't think it doesn't sicken me. They will have to be stopped. What did you have in mind?"

  "Let me take a hand-picked team of our best braves and make a surgical strike. We'll take out the soldiers, destroy the transmitter and chase the rest of the interlopers off our land."

  "Very well. You have my blessing."

  Hiamovi signalled to the other braves standing watch to mount up and they all turned to ride back the way the had come.

  "This is a great day," said Ahiga.

  "Let us hope so," said Hiamovi, turning to take one last look at the burial ground while the others rode ahead. "Let us hope so." He reached out with his soul to feel the comforting hand of the Great Spirit. To ask for His guidance. It wasn't there. It had been some moons now since had last felt the Great Spirit's presence. Or heard the call of a Coyote.

  CHAPTER NINE

  Colt stood at the foot of the tower and looked up. It wasn't even a quarter finished but it looked impressive. It was going to be the largest working transmitter operating anywhere in the world. It would give them dominion over the hearts and minds of most of America.

  "Is there any sign of the Prophet yet?" he asked Simon Peter. Dusk was falling and they were low on rations.

  "Sir, our men met his party about ten miles further down along the Tongue River. We know they're coming but the batteries are dead on their radios. Those things are difficult to repair nowadays and even harder to replace."

  "Ain't that the truth," said Colt. He looked around the camp at the volunteers helping with the construction. Some of them he knew from Colorado, faithful members of his flock. Most of them he'd never seen before. "That Prophet sure brought us a lot of help didn't he?"

  "Seem to be a lot of people anxious to hear his words sir. They're not all from Wyoming neither. Some of them are from Montana too. Prophet's got followers as far as Laurel and Miles City now."

  "He's about to have a heap more. More importantly, so are we."

  "They're proving useful with the construction sir. We couldn't have got this far without their sacrifice."

  "They're going to sacrifice a good deal more yet and prove a powerful sight more useful." They both smiled. Simon Peter was a stand up guy. One that could be trusted. He caught the meaning of Colt's words straight away.

  There was a cheer from the borders of the camp. Everyone stopped and turned to look, dropping their tools to crowd around the Prophet and his party as they entered the camp. Simon Peter and Colt exchanged looks and raised their eyebrows.

  The Prophet's party were carrying two freshly killed deer, pheasants and even chickens. Colt felt himself drooling as they were taken off to be butchered and the fire pits for the spits were dug.

  The crowds of volunteers flocked around the Prophet. All of them wanting to shake his hand or simply touch his clothes. The Prophet just grinned and dealt with the attention far better than Colt would have.

  Colt didn't bother to approach the Prophet. He let the man come to him. He wanted the people in the camp to understand the hierarchy.

  The Prophet pushed his way through crowd and walked up to Colt. "Good to see you again Samuel."

  "And you Robert." Colt shook the Prophet's hand.

  "That's a mighty impressive job you've done on the tower. Ahead of schedule so I hear."

  "Couldn't have done it without
your fan base here. You sure know how to raise a crowd of people."

  "Ah now, that ain't my doing. These are the last days Samuel and people are hungry for the truth. The words of Jesus, well they're just about the most beautiful things anyone has ever said. They remind us that no matter how low a man sinks, no matter how far he's fallen, God's love is still there with him, waiting to lift him up soon as he asks. What you see here today, that's God's love in action."

  "So long as it don't form no union, it sounds good to me."

  The Prophet laughed, took off his hat and mopped his brow. "If you'll excuse me, I've got a cook-out to attend to."

  "Knock yourself out."

  The Prophet replaced his hat and tipped it to Colt as a sign of respect before leaving to busy himself with the evening meal.

  "There'll be more singing and clapping this evening then," said Simon Peter. "And a whole shitload of hymns." Colt looked sternly at him. He swallowed hard. "Don't get me wrong now sir. I love God and I love my country, but there's a limit to the amount of hallelujah's a decent man can stand."

  "At ease man. Let 'em have their fun. They won't have much to sing about soon. Walk with me," he said to Simon Peter as he strode away from the camp into the surrounding woods. Colt looked over at two of his men, Fitch and Golding. Fitch, the tallest of the two, had a lean and muscular frame, a shaved head and a moustache Colt didn't care much for. Golding was carrying a lot more fat, but it didn't slow him down and he was dangerous in a fight. Both of them knew how to get things done, that's why Colt used them

  They were lounging against some logs and leapt to their feet as soon as they saw Colt. He signalled for them to follow him.

  Colt looked at the setting sun's rays as they broke through the pine trees. "You know boys, God couldn't have picked a more beautiful spot for us to start our campaign. It's a shame them Injuns have been desecrating it with their heathen rituals for so long."

  "They'll get theirs soon enough," said Fitch in a low growl.