The Reaper Plague

by David VanDyke

  “What will you look for?”

  “I won’t know until I find it.” Skull grinned fiercely. “But if there’s something to find, I will.”

  “All right. Give me a few minutes of quiet, will you?”

  A half hour later he had his viewscreen and a set of controls he could use. After a minute’s instruction he sent her away, saying he would learn as he went. Have to keep myself occupied somehow, he thought. He forced his mind away from the obvious entertainment two people could make for themselves. Gritted his teeth. Concentrated.

  Hours later he had made cursory examinations of several of Jupiter’s moons, as well as the enormous swirling planet itself. By magnifying to its limit he could bring forth astonishing views, peer deep into space at stars and distant galaxies, bring asteroids so close they seemed to be floating a short way outside the base’s walls.

  Raphaela walked up behind him with a steaming cup. She put it down next to him and began to rub Skull’s shoulders. He allowed her ministrations for a moment before thinking that this was just another trap, to become affectionate like she seemed to want.

  “What’s that? It smells good.” He used the food as an excuse to disengage from her, swiveling his seat around.

  She handed him the mug. “It’s chicken soup, as close as I can make it. I’m experimenting with flavors. Meme senses are nothing like human.” She watched him closely as he sipped. “What do you think?”

  “Not bad,” he admitted. “Actually pretty good.” He drained the mug.

  She lit up with a smile, bringing a scowl to Skull’s face.

  Her own countenance fell in response. “Do you have to make everything good I do into something bad?”

  “Do you have to keep trying to manipulate me into liking you?” He held the empty cup up to press against his forehead, breaking eye contact.

  Raphaela turned away with tears. “Why do you call simple kindness manipulation? I care for you. I’m not going to stop caring. You don’t have to care back but at least you can treat me like a comrade, not an enemy.”

  Skull ground his teeth. I’m outgunned here, he admitted to himself. I could handle a woman, probably, and maybe a 4000-year-old alien, but this hybrid of the two is just impossible. She’s right, in a way. I should just quit reacting. Shut down all my emotions, treat her like a colleague and nothing more. Not let her get to me. Then we’ll be able to have a simple conversation without it turning into an emotional swamp every time.

  Skull forced himself to relax. He put on his blank face, saluted her with the cup. “Sorry. It was good, and thanks for making it. I look forward to your next improvement in our menu.”

  Her face lapsed into a disappointed passivity as she took the cup from his hand. She refilled it and brought it back to him without comment, movements stiff and hurt as she left the room.

  He drank the soup as he ignored her and went back to using the telescope viewer. After a while he put the mug down, feeling suddenly tired, and his vision blurred.

  Then fear surged through him. She drugged me, he thought as he tried to leap from his seat, but he barely twitched, then slumped into the chair and his consciousness faded.

  -25-

  Repeth woke to the kindly but grave face of one of the nurses – Tech Sergeant Ronall, if she remembered correctly. Her mind was clear and the IV dripping nutrient solution into her arm reassured her, I’ll be fine.

  “She’s awake.” Ronall took his hand off her forehead and stood up.

  Jill felt there was something off about his expression, something odd for a nurse taking care of a live Eden, by definition a patient with a positive prognosis. She looked around the room, presumably inside the converted clubhouse, and spotted a more welcome figure. “Rick.”

  He stepped forward after Ronall nodded his permission, sat down in a chair pulled close. He took her hand. “Hey kiddo. How you doing?”

  She looked at him quizzically. “Just fine, like always. I’m alive, so I’ll heal up. What? You don’t look so sure.”

  His eyes were serious. “Jill, you’re not as fine as you think. You have a .308 round in your spine and you’re not moving for a while.”

  “Ugh.” She tried to wiggle her toes and failed. Her head slumped on the pillow. “That sucks. Okay, so what next?”

  “They’re prepping a surgical suite. But we don’t have any real surgeons, just a couple of GPs and nurses. They’re worried. They want to wait for an experienced cutter off one of the ships, but the Navy isn’t too hot to fly a helo this far inland. Too many nuts taking potshots at them, from what I hear. And Fredericksburg is unfriendly.”

  “Yeah, I noticed.” She squeezed Rick’s hand. “Just tell them to do it. I’ll heal. Worst case and they screw it up, someone else can repair it later. Play the odds. I can’t be lying around here like this. Ronall, you tell them to do it just as soon as they can. Go in straight, get the thing out. I’ve been shot seventeen times and I’ve always come through.”

  “Seventeen, huh?” The nurse seemed impressed.

  The door opened suddenly and Swede barged in. She almost didn’t recognize him without his face paint and Ghillie. He nodded at her, glanced at Rick and their clasped hands. “You okay there, Top? So this is the lucky guy, huh?”

  Rick let go of her to stand up, holding out a friendly hand. The two men stared at one another until Swede stuck out his too. Rick looked a little sick as the Marine’s paw crushed his.

  Swede let go and turned to Jill. His manner dismissed Rick as inconsequential. Apparently her fiancé had been found wanting. “Just thought I’d check in on you, Master Sergeant,” he said pointlessly.

  “I’m good, Swede. Thanks for getting me out of there. Those people are Onesies. I could see it in their eyes and on their skin.”

  “Yeah, well, once we brought a .50 cal up they ran off like chickens. Drove the Humvee right up to where you fell. We recovered a couple of their bodies for the docs to look at.”

  “Speaking of chickens…did you notice anything funny about the barrier guards?”

  Swede looked quizzically at her, shrugged.

  “You see any color there?”

  “Huh?”

  “That guy I talked to, their boss…he called me a ‘pretty white breeder’. Said they were the Confederate Republic of Fredericksburg.”

  “Ahh.” Swede nodded. “Some kind of Aryan Nation nut jobs?”

  “I think it would be KKK wannabees around here, but yeah. Make slaves of the women and mud people.”

  “Good thing you aren’t black, I guess. No offense, I just mean…”

  She forced an ironic laugh. “Being a woman is bad enough, I guess. I ran because they had rape in their eyes.”

  Rick coughed from where he stood, and Jill realized how awkward it must be for him. “Thanks, Gunny. Now get out of here, will you? And send Grusky to see me ASAP.” She gave Swede her best glare.

  He glanced around the room, eyes resting for one more moment on Rick, and shook his head wistfully. “Aye aye, Master Sergeant.” He turned and left. His posture told it all.

  Rick forced a smile. “Doesn’t think much of me, does he?”

  “Don’t worry about it. I know the type. Thinks he should own any woman he wants. Thinks every girl should dump her boyfriend and throw herself at him.”

  Rick remained uncertain. “Why shouldn’t he think that? He’s big, strong, tough, good-looking, confident…”

  “So am I.” Jill laughed. “I’m a warrior, living and working with warriors my whole life. If I wanted that kind of man I’d have sealed the deal with someone like Muzik long ago. But then again, you don’t get to choose who you fall in love with.” She reached out to grab his leg, and he moved back to her side, bent over to kiss her.

  “Thanks, Jill. You sure know how to make a guy feel like a special accident.”

  She laughed. “I do my best.”

  “So hey,” he changed the subject, “you missed the big action.” He sat down carefully on her bed.

&nb
sp; “I think I had enough action for one morning. What was it?”

  “A couple dozen Twosies out in the woods to the southwest. They had improvised weapons, sticks and shovels and things. They rushed a perimeter patrol.” Rick’s face reflected pain. “Killed most of them, all except a few who ran away.”

  “Killed them? Why?”

  “They didn’t survive the Needleshock. The docs think it was the Plague interactions, Eden versus Demon Two.”

  “Damn. So we can’t save the Twosies, at least not with a simple Eden shot. I guess that’s something for the long term, some kind of cure. At least it works on the Onesies.”

  “Yeah. Small favors.”

  Jill pushed herself more upright and asked Rick to hunt her up some lunch. Once he came back with a heated MRE she asked, “So what else is going on?”

  “Well, they got all the tents up. The medical folks say they are ready to start inoculations as soon as we can bring them customers, and send out teams if we can find villages or gathering places.”

  “What about you?”

  “I wrote a preliminary report, it won’t get through for a day or two probably, until they get good comms set up…until then I’m helping with the computers.” Rick went on to chat about the battalion and expected to go back to his duties when SSG Grusky showed up, but the shooting started first.

  -26-

  Skull awoke with a start and tried to get up, but found himself held fast. Trying to move his head, he realized that he was naked, immobilized, and completely encased in some kind of material – presumably the same modified base-stuff that made up the walls and floor. He was upright, with nothing but his face showing outside the cocoon.

  He carefully exerted his strength, building until he could feel his own arms bruising and his skin threatening to split, but no matter what he did he could not move more than a half an inch in any direction. Resigned, he cleared his throat. “Raphaela?”

  She walked into his range of vision, looking guilty. “I’m sorry, Alan. I gave you every chance I could, but I have bigger concerns right now. You may not agree, but that’s just the way it is.”

  “The way what is? What do you plan to do? You can’t keep me here forever.”

  “I can keep you there for a long time. The mechanism I’ve set up will tend to all your needs.”

  Changing tack, he asked, “What do you mean bigger concerns? What’s bigger than saving the Earth?”

  “We’ll have just enough time for that. I’ve re-run the calculations based on the incoming scout ship’s latest signals. They will be here in just over nine months.” She raised her eyebrows at him, as if that period of time should be somehow significant.

  He looked around the room, searching for something to give him a clue as to her purpose. “Is that supposed to mean something to me? And do you mean to keep me in here for nine months?”

  “Almost. You’ve made it clear you don’t want to be my lover, or my friend, or my…or my anything. But like it or not you’re going to be the father of my child, so like all single mothers down through history I’m just going to have to deal with things as they are and do the best I can. I wanted us to be together somehow, but since you’ve rejected me I have to put my energy into our son.” She tried but failed to keep anger out of her voice.

  He gaped at her, his mind in turmoil. “Our son…but…this changes everything!”

  “Really? How? How, Skull. How?”

  It was the first time she’d called him Skull since they’d been together, and he realized it stung. That maybe he had been trying to deny this thing between them so vehemently because there was truth to it. “Because…we’re having a child!”

  “Yes I’m having a child, without you,” she said bitterly. “You’re going into stasis. Just as soon as this conversation, is over. It’s as wonderful and endearing as every other talk we’ve had. You’re going to stay there until he’s born, because I can’t trust you. You’re a danger to us both.”

  “I’d never hurt my own child!” he cried.

  “How do I know that? Do you have one back on Earth that you never told me about? All I know is that you’re unstable, violent, and super-nano-infused. And I gave you every chance and you blew me off.” Now that she had allowed herself to give vent to the anger she had been holding back, it spewed forth in a wave. “You’re the stupidest man I know, Alan, which isn’t saying much because I don’t know very many men, but I bet there are ten thousand guys on Earth that would love to have me and would be better fathers and better men than you so you can just suck it up and deal with it, isn’t that what you Marines say? Suck it up and deal with it and if you’re very lucky I’ll be in a better mood when you wake up.” She reached for a control.

  “Wait! If you’re determined to do this, what can I do? But I wanted you to leave me here to ambush them. Then you – you and the baby now – could go back to Earth. You’ll be safe there.”

  Raphaela laughed. “Safe on Earth? That’s a laugh. And what do you care anyway?”

  “I do care about you.”

  “You’re just saying that now that you’re helpless.”

  He tried to shake his head but failed. “No, I…nevermind. Whatever. You haven’t listened to me since we took off.”

  She choked. “Who hasn’t listened?” With that she touched a control.

  “Wait! I…” He trailed off as his vision went from gray to black, and his thoughts did likewise.

  Raphaela sat for a long time on the floor next to the cocoon, tears running uncontrollably down her face, sobs racking her body. She already felt the loneliness of his absence and her guts cramped with the fear of it. She rolled over onto her side and curled into a ball of pain.

  She wept for her failure to make him love her, or even treat her decently, and she wept for herself and her predicament and for her unborn son. Eventually she wept herself to sleep as the warm hum of the dying base accompanied her into Morpheus’ arms.

  -27-

  Major Dionicio “Denny” Vargas, commanding Alpha Company (Homeland Security – Detached), rode in the center vehicle of their seven Mine-Resistant Armored Personnel-carriers, commonly called MRAPs. After landing with the Civil Affairs battalion, they’d quickly and efficiently mustered and moved out on their mission, heading south. Vargas was proud of them for that.

  Each armored truck mounted either a .50 caliber heavy machine gun, a 7.62mm six-barreled electric Gatling minigun, or a 40mm grenade launcher. After furious, nearly mutinous “discussion,” the heavily armed paramilitary company had been issued a mix of lethal ammo and Needleshock, rather than pure nonlethal. He’d had to go over Colonel Muzik’s head and make his case to the new Deputy Under Secretary of Homeland Security, but eventually they’d hammered out a compromise.

  All the personal weapons were supposed to be loaded with nonlethal ammo – though Vargas wasn’t going to try too hard to enforce that one. But the heavy weapons had standard lethal rounds available, as well as a nonlethal supply. He’d argued that Needleshock grenades or .50 caliber wouldn’t penetrate armored vehicles or structures like good old high explosive or full metal jacket. On the other hand, he had to seem to accept the new military leaders’ arguments that anyone they were shooting at was an American, and their responsibility was to minimize casualties and save lives.

  Denny didn’t give a shit about that. Kill them all, the sooner the better. Let El Diablo sort them out. He breathed the cool morning air as he stood in the top hatch of his MRAP, ecstatic just to have his own independent command.

  His convoy crept southward along Highway 1 toward Richmond. They’d thought about using Interstate 95, but the Navy recon flights had shown that hundreds of thousands of fleeing vehicles had turned that artery into a hopeless parking lot filled with evil and death.

  He flogged his mind, reviewing the special intelligence briefings they’d had, much more detailed than the ones given to those dumbass military personnel.

  Immediately after the warheads had fallen, those at th
e edge of the death zones had fled, despite being told to stay in their homes. Marginally smarter people fled westward toward the mountains and the rural areas. The hopeless sheep, the professional classes of Northern Virginia, had joined hundreds of thousands of their closest friends in a pointless attempt to flee southward. Most had no plan, no supplies, and no skills, just a vague notion of getting away toward the rural South, where the rumors said no bombs had fallen.

  When hours in their cars became days with no food, no water and no fuel, many had turned on each other, fighting and killing for something to drink or eat or just because they were frustrated. Some escaped overland into the rural farms and small towns, until they overwhelmed the people living there, who began to turn the refugees away.

  Sometimes with bullets.

  With martial law’s advent the National Guard, regular troops and first responders everywhere made a valiant effort to bring the civil disaster under control – and they were making progress. Tens, perhaps hundreds of thousands had died in the aftermath of the bombs, but slowly order emerged from chaos.

  Until Plaguefall One.

  The population was hard-pressed, already straining to cope with fallout, radiation burns and sickness, scattered outbreaks of cholera, violence and starvation. When Demon Plague One spread down the East Coast, the camel’s back broke.

  It was panic as much as anything that shattered the fragile remains of civilized society, especially in the zones north of Richmond. With over a million infected refugees, Virginia’s shaky remnants of state government had no choice but to establish strict borders around the capital and close them to all but a careful trickle of refugees.

  Camps sprang up at the edge of the defended zones, hellholes of exploitation, rape and murder. Richmond tried to alleviate the problems by passing out food and sending armed parties to repair water sources, but soon gave up. There were just too many human animals. Demon Plague One had seen to that. Whatever vestiges of civilized behavior might have remained, the alien virus swept them all into a Darwinian nightmare, individual survival of the fittest as the virus destroyed any sense of community, any finer feeling, any decency.