He tugged on her hand impatiently.
Five minutes and several tunnels later she found herself in the mouth of an opening looking out upon a village. That was the only thing she could think of to call it – something primitive, like out of National Geographic.
The tiny town was built around the inner rim of a hundred-yard-diameter bowl, with three other four-foot pipes leading into it. She surmised it must be some kind of drainage sink, where water from heavy rains would run and be absorbed into the ground. They had converted it into a dwelling place, with a well in the center, crude huts made of pallets and pieces of salvaged materials, and the pipes as defensible gates. When winter came it might flood, but until then it was defensible for the tribe.
For a tribe it was, and right now they were all staring at Jill in absolute silence. She stepped out of the pipe and into the sunlight, still holding Bobby’s hand, and she marveled. Twosies. Sort of. Twosies plus Eden Plague maybe. Eden Twosies. Probably no language, no names. This is what the aliens want us to become, so they can Blend with us…be us.
Only we won’t be us anymore.
She keyed her radio and quietly reported what she had found. Muzik wanted her to come back and prepare for the attempt to rescue their lost troops. She replied. “Colonel, I have an idea, if I can establish communication with these people. Give me a couple of hours.”
Muzik sighed wearily, "Okay, but you watch yourself and get back here as soon as you can."
An hour later she was crouching inside another pipe. Bobby and a warrior she had dubbed Ug had led her through dense woods and storm drains near the Rappahannock River to a point inside the Fredericksburg perimeter. Easing forward, she got a view of an open field of new rich soil. A tractor dragged some kind of attachment across the dirt, and hundreds of bedraggled people worked with hand tools and wheelbarrows, pulling out rocks, stumps and bushes. More than half of them were black or Hispanic. All of the guards were white.
Many of the workers were her people. She could see Grusky and LeBrun among them, but try as she might she could not pick out Rick. And something else was odd…it took her a minute to figure it out, but then she realized.
No women.
No females at all, though there were boys as young as six or seven it seemed, and older men as well. She didn’t like to think of what that might mean.
“Okay,” she addressed her Twosie guides. “I’ve got to sneak in close to talk to one of my people. Wait for me here, all right?” They both nodded, Bobby’s eyes solemn, Ug’s wary.
She slipped a piece of camouflage stretch-netting across her face and head, slung her weapon on her back so it would stay clean, and crawled forward along the brush lining the new field.
Men with guns drifted here and there around the edges of the working party, but not as many as she would have expected. A concerted breakout attempt would probably free almost everyone. But where would they go? The whole rump town was surrounded by walls, berms, abatis, barbed wire, gun jeeps and armored vehicles – and the river on one long side. Many would die if they made a daylight breakout.
The field sloped slightly downward to the river, and there were only a few guards with rifles nearby. They probably figured any of the prisoners that tried to swim the river could be easily shot by riflemen. Her eyes traced a way along the edge of the beach. That’s my opportunity. If I have to I can hold my breath long enough to escape under the water.
Jill wormed her way through the bushes until she reached the river, then crawled along its sunken bank, barely out of sight. Reaching the point across from a large oak tree she had set as a landmark, she cautiously raised her camouflaged head.
“Grusky,” she called in a low voice. “Don’t look around, just work your way over here.” She watched through the blades of long grass as the bored-looking guard waved a buzzing fly away.
Sergeant Grusky glanced up with a slight jerk at her voice, but she could see him forcibly relax and begin meandering in her direction. Soon they were near enough to talk in low tones.
“Glad to see you, Master Sergeant.”
“Can’t say the same about your situation, Staff. Where are the women?”
Grusky grimaced. “They separated them out when they brought us back. Talked about doing women’s work, but they also took the prettiest handful off separate. Said they were for the Professor’s brothel. Johnson got himself killed trying to prevent them from taking his girlfriend.”
“Not good. You have to tell everyone we’re going to stage a rescue tonight, sometime after one a.m. No more pointless resistance, everyone needs to stay alive until the breakout attempt. Take this.” She tossed her PW5 pistol into the grass within his reach when the guard’s back was turned. “Tell everyone that when the shooting starts they need to make a break for it and meet right here by the bank. That oak tree is your marker. We have local guides and a way through their lines. Also, everyone needs to pass the Eden Plague to everyone they can, friendly or not. Bite, scratch, bleed on them, whatever you can do without getting killed. A lot of the enemy must have been hit with Needleshock and they are already Edens. That’s going to undermine their power structure and cause confusion. Some might even help you.”
Grusky nodded and had barely concealed the pistol in his pocket when the guard came over and yelled at him to get back to work. Jill shrank back under the bank, burying her face in the fetid mud beneath the grass overhang. A moment later she heard the sound of water falling, a stream of urine that arched over her and struck the tiny beach at water’s edge. As she hid, she cursed herself for forgetting to ask about Rick. She waited for a full five minutes before carefully prying herself out of her hidey-hole and slipping away.
-35-
Special Envoy Tyler could feel the Vargas’ eyes on him. He just couldn’t figure out why. Nothing he did here would have a negative impact on the man’s career, and he hadn’t offended him as far as he knew. In fact, he could easily get the man promoted, or his choice of assignment – or both.
He turned around to look at Vargas and noticed how his hands gripped the holds on the top of the MRAP. Saw the snake behind the man’s eyes, and saw the bloody sweat on his forehead where it looked like he’d raked his fingernails across it.
He realized just where he’d seen that look before.
Forcing himself to smile neutrally, Tyler shifted his weight and abruptly rolled headfirst through the hatch into the interior of the moving armored truck. He barked his knees and shins painfully on the way down and caught himself on his hands as he hit the floor. He collapsed his body and struggled to a sitting position on an interior seat.
The move was so unexpected that Vargas simply sat there stunned on top of the MRAP. He had no idea what prompted such gymnastics from the Envoy, but it didn’t matter. Now that Tyler was inside again, no one would see as he eliminated the maricon.
Inside, Tyler looked around for something to use as a weapon. He himself was unarmed in keeping with his status as a diplomat. The driver, the RTO and Vargas each had a gun. Tyler knew the madness percolating inside Vargas, the insanity that cropped up in a small but growing percentage of nanocommandos, would eventually push him over the edge as the tiny machines gained a foothold in his brain.
Tyler could see only one sensible option, and he was rapidly running out of time. He looked casually at the RTO, Furth. If he could surprise her and take her submachine gun, he had a chance. Glancing up through the hatch to make sure Vargas wasn’t watching, Tyler leaned forward onto his feet behind the seated woman, and then slugged her as hard as he could in the jaw from behind.
She slumped over the radio, and the driver didn’t notice a thing as he concentrated on his task. Tyler quickly grabbed her stubby automatic weapon, racked the bolt back and turned to point it out the open hatch at Vargas – to see the business end of Vargas’ own weapon staring him in the face.
Tyler didn’t hesitate. He trusted in his healing ability and in any case the die had been cast. It was kill or be killed, and his
Eden conscience did not inhibit him as he watched the sanity leave Vargas’ eyes. He pulled his trigger and rocketed to his feet, trying to get the lip of the hatch between his own head and Vargas’s gun.
Both weapons belched bullets and Tyler felt the hot wet smack of the slugs stitch him across his ribs and down his abdomen and leg. He barely had time to feel the pain and shock before he went under.
***
Tyler came to with the muzzle of a gun in his face, and he thought, I’ve lost. Then he saw the driver’s frightened face behind it and hope returned. Without moving he took stock of himself and decided he would live, if the driver let him.
“Son, I ain’t gonna move, and I been shot up pretty bad, so maybe you could take your finger off the trigger of that weapon?”
The young troop swallowed, moved back out of reach and repositioned his grip. “What the hell happened!” he asked, shaky.
“Hey, you in there, what the hell is going on?” The voice came from outside the MRAP and Tyler realized that of course they were stopped, since the driver wasn’t driving. That meant the Richmonders had stopped too, and now they wanted answers.
“Son,” Tyler went on, “Major Vargas tried to kill me. I had to shoot him. I’m the President’s representative, and I’m in charge of this mission. Now you need to open up this vehicle and let the Richmond people in. And don’t get yourself shot!” he added as the man reached for the armored door’s handle.
It took half an hour to get it all sorted out, time Tyler desperately needed to heal from the seven or eight bullet holes in his body. The ones that didn’t go through will work their way out eventually. He’d convinced the driver to give him an MRE to eat, which helped considerably.
Once on his feet he’d checked Vargas. Two holes though his skull relieved Tyler’s concern, and he had them wrap the man’s body up to be taken with them. He’d explained the situation by telling them that Vargas had always been high-strung and he’d snapped and turned his weapon on his superior. The Richmonders bought it, more or less, but they disarmed the MRAP crew completely this time, and put three guards inside for the rest of the trip into the city.
They hadn’t mentioned his remarkable recovery from the bullet wounds, by which Tyler deduced Edens were nothing new to them. Looking closer, he realized that several of the escorts probably were already Edens. Several were Onesies as well, which brought to mind the question of why they hadn’t used the Eden Plague to cure the DP1.
Probably saw how DP1 and DP2 sickened and killed some Edens, and figured the reverse would be true. But actually, giving the Eden Plague to Onesies would cure them, and with Twosies it should at least fix their bodies. Knowledge is power, it has value…perhaps as a lever, perhaps as a gift.
He eyed the men guarding him for a moment, then closed his eyes and planned his negotiating strategy.
***
They’d rustled up a decent off-the-rack suit from an abandoned clothing store, and now Tyler strode in to meet Governor Allaine with something like confidence. The lord of Richmond was tall, graying, and smooth-faced. Uninfected, it seems. The Envoy held out his hand and introduced himself to Allaine with a firm handshake. What came back was all politician, and Tyler rejoiced.
Rejoiced because it was the usual bureaucratic politics he saw in the man’s gaze and stance – how to turn this meeting to his advantage, make himself look good, hold on to his office, power and authority – through legitimate means. This first fifteen seconds told Tyler all he needed to know: he’d made the right decision to kill Vargas, and now it all just came down to horse-trading.
But first… “Governor, I have a time-critical favor to ask of you before we discuss anything. On the way here we received word via radio that the Civil Affairs battalion at Fredericksburg was being heavily attacked. Then we lost contact with them, and I fear the worst. I am sure the Federal government, and the President himself, would be very grateful and look favorably on a sincere attempt to help them.”
“Attacked by the Professor’s people?” The Governor’s gaze was hawklike, careful.
“I don’t know. Who is this Professor?”
“A man out of his time. He fancies himself a reincarnation of Nathan Bedford Forrest trying to resurrect the old South, or maybe create some twisted vision of a fascist future. Or both. In any case, he’s a madman, and he controls Fredericksburg with an iron fist. If your people got too close and he felt threatened, he would attack them.”
“We landed the battalion at Fort AP Hill airfield. They were supposed to move northward to a position a few miles outside of the occupied part of Fredericksburg. We came south to talk with you. Then as I said, we heard on the radio they got hit by armored vehicles and infantry. Then nothing.”
The Governor shook his head. “Then the Professor hit them for sure. I can see you want me to do something about it.”
Tyler nodded, stood up and rubbed his hands together with nervous tension. “Yes, sir, I do. And I think you need to. As an experienced military man, I can tell you this: the MPs in the battalion would have fought hard. They might have been beaten but this Professor would have paid a heavy price. And there are some very unusual individuals attached to the battalion that will make this guy’s life hell for as long as they can – special operators with some very specific skills.”
Allaine looked skeptical. “Experienced military man? No offense, but you don’t look old enough to make that claim.”
Tyler noticed that Allaine had left himself an out. That’s all right, I can be gracious. He spoke mildly, respectfully. “Governor, I’m sixty-five years old. It’s just the Eden Plague lying to you with my face. The President retired me at four-star rank so that I could become his Special Envoy. I’ve been commanding troops for pert’ near forty years.” So I think I know what the hell I’m talking about, he deliberately didn’t add.
“Unh,” the Governor grunted. “I suspected something like that. You’re that Travis Tyler? All right, what would you do in my place?”
“Hit them now. Use all your mobile forces in a lightning thrust. Most of our battalion is either Edens or they have nano-enhancements. They’ll be hard to kill, even if they have to fight a guerilla action. What they don’t have is heavy weapons.” I argued for them but got turned down, he thought. Not enough lift capacity, they said. Water under the bridge. “Bring along small arms to reequip our people, and all the tanks and APCs you can spare, attack helos if you have any. Take out the Professor while he’s weakened and licking his wounds.”
“And if you’re wrong? If F-burg had an easy victory and your people are all dead or captured?”
“You have to do it sometime, Governor. You can’t allow rebels to occupy a piece of Virginia unchallenged. Not if you really want people to respect that title.”
Allaine sighed. “You’re right. But it means I have to ask good people to go and die.”
Tyler smiled faintly. “Welcome to the joys of command, Governor. Once we get the military operation moving, you and I can discuss what your Federal Government can do for Richmond, especially about getting you all the vaccine you can use. In about a month another plague is going to fall out of the sky onto you and lots more people could die. We need to get everyone vaccinated, and to do that we have to clear up this little problem. So right now I’d advise you to give the Fredericksburg job to your most aggressive and respected officer, and you and I get on with our business.” See, I speak politicalese too.
“Her, actually.” Allaine stepped to his office door to call an aide. “Tommy, go get Alice. Tell her that her F-burg plan is a go, and to come see me as soon as she can.” When the aide had gone, Allaine turned back to Tyler. “Alice Zimmer is the best we have. Armor officer. I think you two will get along.” He gestured for Tyler to sit down at the small table across from his desk, then joined him there.
“Okay, let’s talk turkey.”
“Well, first, I can help you with your Onesies…”
-36-
Repeth had left Ug and Bobb
y back at their village, explaining to them that they had helped her enough, and she would take it from here. They seemed to be natural hiders and pacifists, not carrying even the most primitive of weapons.
Colonel Muzik and the rest were still hard at work digging people out of the wreckage and salvaging what they could. They had recovered one Armorshock weapon, and Repeth made a mental note. She saw they had also gotten one of the Humvees and a couple of golf carts functioning and were shuttling people and equipment southward, away from Fredericksburg and into the woods.
The open space of the golf course would be a buffer and a fire zone in case the Fredericksburgers came back in force. Their little group could shoot and run deeper into the forest if they had to.
Night was starting to fall and it tore at her – and the rest, she was sure – to know that there still might be more of their people buried in the rubble. That Rick might be stuck there, unable to call out, slowly dying. She hadn’t seen him with the other prisoners, but there was nothing she could do about it. The rest of the troops would keep working through the night, with their handful of remaining MPs on picket duty, ready to give the alarm. Jill, she told herself, you have a job to do and there are a couple of hundred people depending on you to help them escape, so pull your head out of your fourth point of contact and put him out of your mind.
But she couldn’t, not really.
Still, she jammed the concern back into a dark corner, a lockbox where she kept all the scorpions and snakes and demons of her life, all the regrets and sins and mistakes. This may be one downside to a longer life, she thought. More stuff to shove into a mental container already full to bursting with a hundred million deaths.
As they broke for a meal of heated MREs she briefed Colonel Muzik on everything she had learned, all the details she could recall. Checkpoints, rally points, linear obstacles, she told him everything as she used the mapping function in her tactical radio to display their route. Without GPS satellites it wasn’t all that accurate but the inertial tracker should serve well enough.
The Reaper Plague Page 16
