The Melanin Apocalypse

by Darrell Bain

  Actually, only about fifteen per cent of Muslims are Arabs. Indonesia is mostly a Muslim nation, for instance, but has few Arabs. In fact…”

  The president waved a hand, indicating that he wasn’t in the mood for a lecture. “Never mind.” He turned his attention to General Newman again. “General, just tell me what this means for us. Who are we going to have to fight, if anyone?”

  “The Jews are going to have to handle this one themselves, sir. Remember, a quarter of the army was black before this crisis started and they’re either dead or likely to be. Or they’ve deserted to be with family members who are ill. As it is, we’re barely keeping order here at home and what troops we can spare for overseas are going to be busy securing nuclear power plants left untended and rescuing our expatriates. What we can do is funnel some munitions to Israel under the guise of using their airfields to refuel the planes we’re sending for our distressed citizens. However, I’ll continue with our contingency planning for taking over the oil fields in Iraq and Nigeria, and maybe a few other countries that are going to become depopulated fairly quickly.” The general still didn’t seem concerned about the war Israel had initiated.

  “And you don’t think anyone else will jump in?”

  “Well, the Europeans certainly aren’t going to challenge us. By the time they get around to agreeing on anything, we’ll have the army back up to levels high enough to discourage them or anyone else, except maybe India and China—and they haven’t the naval power to project their strength like we do. If China attacks anyone it will be Taiwan, and why should we care about them now? There’s a whole new continent rapidly becoming depopulated, and enough oil there for the taking; enough to last for decades.”

  “You’re sure they won’t fight us?” President Marshall was liking this more and more. No American casualties, oil fields open for easy occupation, a whole empty continent to exploit. And perhaps best of all, no more racial problems. At least not from blacks.

  “Mr. President, China and India are in almost the same shape as us—except that most of their citizens will recover, while most of our blacks will die. In the meantime, their economies are collapsing faster than a popped balloon and their manpower is tied up treating the enormous number of people sick with the virus.”

  “But our economy is going downhill, too,” Lurline interjected. “We can’t lose over ten percent of our population and expect it to stay healthy.”

  “All the better,” Tomlin said, suddenly recognizing the benefits of the rapid inflation of the dollar. “We can pay off our debts with inflated dollars, where we have to pay at all. Once we get past the hard part, this virus will be thought of as a Godsend for us, not a catastrophe.”

  Lurline was as pragmatic and exacting in thought as a research scientist but this was going too far. “You both sound like you’re glad to see a billion people dying. Don’t you care a whit for them?”

  “Lurline, there’s not a damn thing we can do for them. Isn’t that what Amelia… what’s her name, Foster, told us yesterday? And if we can’t, why not take advantage of the situation? It’s not like we started the damn virus.”

  “Five of our citizens did.”

  “But we didn’t order it done,” President Marshall said. “Look, I’ll have our U.N. Ambassador make a major speech denouncing Israel, just as soon as the news gets out about the new virus.”

  “Have her do it now, then he won’t have to even mention the new virus,” Tomlin suggested.

  “Right. We’ll do it that way. General Newman, do you have anything else to add?”

  “We’re set, Mr. President. You’ve already given me the authorization to strike immediately if any country threatens to attack us during this crisis and you’ve warned all the nuclear powers what will happen if they even think about using those weapons. All we have to do now is sit tight, wait for the blacks to finish dying, then be ready to go wherever it will do us the most good. I think we should even consider some of the South American countries. They’re going to lose almost as high a percentage of their population as we are. Lots of dark skinned South Americans. And the Caribbean—just think of it. We’ll have a free reign there, what with the blacks no longer in control.”

  The president looked puzzled for a moment, then his face lit up. “Yes, that’s right! Jamaica and so forth.

  They’re mostly black, aren’t they?”

  “And the Bahamas and a lot of Cubans. It’s about time Cuba got taken down a peg, I don’t care what the treaty says.”

  “Right. Edgar, why don’t you and Lurline get together and go over our homeland security problems and get the planners working on South America and the Caribbean. I’d like to talk to the general a while longer about some weapons development we’ve been postponing far too long.”

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  Doug fumbled with the plastic bags of goods he had bought while filling up the car with gas, wondering where June was. She hadn’t answered the bell when he rang to get her to help with the packages. Finally he set two of them down and took out his key to unlock the door. Inside, he found no sign of June. He was beginning to panic when he saw the typed note pasted on the refrigerator door, the first place she knew he would look upon arriving. He set the bags on the counter and read it.

  Doug—Amelia got back from Washington and asked me to come in for a few hours. I’ll be home soon as I can. There’s some frozen pizza we can have with the last of the wine, so don’t cook. Love you.

  (three hearts)

  J

  * * *

  He felt his heart soften as he read the note and saw the carefully drawn hearts. A sense of love and protectiveness swept over him, making him realize that he would do almost anything to make her happy and keep her safe. He also knew his feelings weren’t just a reaction to a new love. The emotion that engulfed him when he thought of her was like nothing he had experienced before, not even with Doris.

  Perhaps it takes a mature person to really appreciate what love is, he thought. That, and someone who reciprocated the love, as June so obviously did, even agreeing to marriage so soon after meeting, if that was what he wanted. Another wave of love and… what was it? Admiration, that was it. Love and admiration was what he was feeling. All his experience with her so far made him think she was as near to perfect as a woman could get. It also caused him wonder how he managed to get so lucky.

  He was still standing there, staring at the note with the door open behind him, when June arrived. He was so deep in thought that he didn’t hear her as she entered, nor see her as she stood and watched while he read the note again and again. It was such a simple thing, but the little hand drawn hearts she had added to it touched him in a way that a more explicit expression of love might not have. He took the note down, kissed the hearts, then folded it carefully and put it in his billfold.

  The sound of June sniffing back tears announced her presence to him. He turned and saw twin streaks of wetness on her cheeks where the teardrops had made a path down to her chin. One of them was still hanging there. It dropped away as her chin quivered.

  Doug had no idea she had been watching him. “June! What’s wrong?”

  “Nothing. Nothing at all, you sweet dummy. Come here.”

  He moved toward her and she came into his arms, then hugged him so tight he feared she might crack a rib. He heard her sobbing and finally it dawned on him that she must have watched him kissing the note.

  “June, sweetheart, I…”

  “Don’t say another word,” she murmured against his chest, where he could feel her tears wetting his fatigue top. “A moment later she said “You just touched me where I live. Know what?”

  “What?”

  “I think I’m going to keep you.”

  * * *

  June added extra pepperoni and sausage to the frozen pizza to liven it up, while Doug poured a coming-home drink for each of them from a liter of Jim Beam, the only bourbon he could find to use up their liquor ration. He knew they were using the last pizza, too.
As soon as she had the food in the oven, she sat down next to Doug. She felt for his hand, found it and leaned her cheek against his shoulder. A moment of quiet passed before she said anything.

  “You know, that was so sweet, kissing that silly little note then saving it.” She rubbed her cheek against his shoulder, liking the sense of comfort she felt being so near him.

  “I guess I’m sentimental. I didn’t mean to make you cry.”

  “I’m glad you did.” She pulled away from him far enough to see his face. “Do you still want to get married?”

  “Of course I do.” He squeezed her hand.

  “Then let’s do it tomorrow. I’m scared you might get away.”

  “No chance of that. But I don’t know a pastor. Do you?”

  “No, but I could ask around if that’s what you want. What denomination?”

  “June, sweetheart, I guess I should tell you, I’m not very religious. Well, actually, I’m not religious at all.”

  She laughed. “My, the things you learn about a man when you have him cornered. As it turns out, I’m not either. You were in the military, though. You should know a military officer can perform a marriage under martial law.”

  “Really? I didn’t know that.”

  “Now I have to confess. I checked into it. An officer can waive the blood tests and waiting period, too.”

  It was Doug’s turn to laugh. “I’ve not only been cornered, I’ve been roped and branded.”

  June set her drink down and pulled his head down to kiss him. “Just roped. The branding comes tomorrow. After that, you’re mine.”

  “And you’re mine, too. Why do I feel like I just won the lottery?”

  June’s expression suddenly went from happy to concerned as she looked at him, his face only inches from hers. “Oh gosh. Seeing you with that note distracted me. You may not feel like you won the lottery after I tell you what Amelia was in Washington for.”

  “What’s wrong?”

  “There’s another virus. This time it’s targeting Arabs.”

  “So that’s why Israel started a war. I wondered about that, when the Arabs were going to lose a fair percentage of their population anyway. I suppose they started the virus, huh?”

  “We don’t know, but it’s likely. The virologists have been working on some samples flown here for the last week or so. It’s definitely a bug that’s been altered but they haven’t sorted out its mechanism yet, how it works. Doug, has the whole world gone crazy? Is someone going to loose a virus targeting whites next? Or Redheads? Or… or left handed Armenians, for God’s sake!”

  Doug pulled her to him again, trying to absorb the new calamity. His thoughts ranged wildly but kept coming back to how he could protect her—and was dismayed that he could find no answer.

  “Sweetheart, I guess something like this was inevitable once the genie escaped from the bottle and I don’t know what we can do about it, other than keep the CDC going and hope they can come up with something.”

  June nodded, unable to speak for thinking of the new tragedy occurring. Images of babies and children appealing to their parents for help as they lay dying flashed through her mind. She shivered and held Doug tighter until she could get her thoughts back in focus. She looked at him with tears streaking her face and chuckled weakly. “I guess that’s something else you’re going to have to get used to. I cry easily, even over things I can’t help.”

  “That’s not a bad thing. Sometimes I wish I could just let loose instead of holding my emotions inside me.

  I’ve sure enough seen sights I wanted to just break down and cry over. And there’s going to be more and more of them.” He sighed. “Well, as I’ve already said, it’s nothing we can do anything about, other than play our small role here. If there’s any hope for bringing this under control it’s in places like this.”

  “Amelia says she thinks it’s too late to control what’s loose now. She’s going to change the whole direction of our research toward wide spectrum treatment of future viral epidemics and development of a general class of viricides.”

  “Hasn’t that been tried already?”

  “Oh, sure. Like with the AIDS virus. But just think, if all the research poured into developing a vaccine had been spent on treatment to begin with, instead of years later, a whole lot of lives could have been saved. Amelia recommended that the president go to the U.N. with a world wide program.”

  “Hmm. I’ll confess I haven’t much faith in the U.N., but I guess it couldn’t hurt and might even help. Isn’t that the pizza I smell?”

  “Whoops!” June jumped up and ran to the oven, catching it just in time.

  * * *

  Just as Gene Bradley—and Doug—had feared, the CDC complex rapidly became the focus of a boiling sense of outrage and betrayal on the part of the black population. Ever since the first inklings of the Harcourt virus infecting only dark skinned persons, the blacks of Atlanta and other cities had begun arming, with their religious leaders and militants alike urging drastic action. When the new rumors that the CDC had actually developed the virus and given it to the government to deliberately spread among the black population became rife, the agitation reached new heights. Atlanta was more than fifty per cent black, and even with a portion of the city population dying or dead, it was being augmented with ones coming in from the countryside, and even from out of the state, despite curfews and travel restrictions.

  “We’re getting some more troops in Atlanta, but it’s going to be next week before the army brigade they’re sending here arrives,” Gene Bradley told his platoon leaders. I’ve hired some more people and asked the mayor to broadcast an appeal for volunteers. Frankly I don’t know whether that was a good idea or not—it may just stir the pot past the boiling point, if it isn’t already there, but I felt obligated to try.

  I think it’s going to get real hairy here before long.”

  “How about the army troops already here? Can’t they protect the complex?” Gary Jones asked. He looked very worried. Doug thought he had probably been following the same news accounts he had.

  Gene thought for a moment, then shrugged and gave them one of his rare smiles. “There’s only one way to find out, isn’t there?” Then he sobered. “I’ve looked at all the possible routes a mob might take if they become determined to get to us. I’ve narrowed it down to one probable path and one not so likely but possible. Army commanders aren’t real good at taking advice from civilians, even from ex-colonels, but I passed it on to the battalion commander. Whether he’ll assign any of his troops to help the company we’ve already been given, I don’t know. He does have the rest of Atlanta to take care of and only has the one battalion to work with.

  “What I want you to do is keep your troops close and have those who aren’t on duty ready to respond to an emergency. Gary, I want you and Teresa to set it up so that our off duty people are not only ready, but organized as a reserve force, then pick two people to captain it while each of them is off. That way, they’ll know exactly how to respond and there won’t be any waste motion.

  “The mission will be the same: protect the CDC entrances if attackers get that far. The scientists working here are the best hope for the future and I don’t want anything to happen to them.” Gene looked at the others to be sure what he said had registered. “Comments? Suggestions?”

  “I have one,” Doug said immediately. He had been thinking about it for the last few days. “If worst comes to worst, is there any reason the CDC staff can’t help defend the place?”

  “I hate to bring amateurs into a fight, but it’s still not a bad idea. I guess you can take charge of that in addition to your other extra duty.”

  “Other?”

  “Oh. Sorry. I must be overworked; I meant to announce it first thing. You’re going to be second in command here. If anything happens to me, you have the ball. I’ll talk to you later today about it.”

  “Thanks. I guess.” Doug’s response brought a mild chuckle from the others.

 
“Anything else? Anyone? Okay, meeting’s over.” Gene shoved his chair away from the table and was gone before the rest of them were on their feet.

  * * *

  Doug and June said their vows in the office of the CDC Director at noon the same day, in front of a harried looking army major, with Amelia and Gene as witnesses and an equally harried looking private doing the recording. It went quickly. Doug was afraid the simplicity and impersonal nature of the ceremony would cause June to wish she had asked for something more traditional, but she appeared radiantly happy afterwards, putting his mind at ease. After they had exchanged heartfelt kisses and accepted congratulations, the Major and his clerk quickly left.

  The honeymoon lasted all of thirty seconds. Doug and June were preparing to make their exit and hurry back to her apartment when Gene spoke up and stopped them.

  “Don’t leave yet, Doug. While you’re here, you may as well give Amelia a heads up on your idea of arming the staff. I’ve already spoken to her about it, but it’s going to be your show.”

  “Would you mind staying, too, June?” Amelia asked. “I’m sorry, but since Prince Charming is going to be tied up for a while, you may as well keep him company.”

  “I don’t mind,” June lied as she and Doug exchanged amused glances at how quickly their mutual plans for consummating the marriage before he had to go to work had been changed.

  “Good. Let’s get to it, then. Doug?”

  He went over the procedures, some of which he had already put into motion that morning, surveying all the staff who had arms training and also owned weapons. He could supply arms to some of those without from the security armory but not all, and preferred that they use firearms they were already familiar with should they be called to help defend the complex. And he knew that if a mob ever broke through the thin army lines, they would need every one of them.

  It was a professional briefing but he kept June’s hand in his the whole time, occasionally bringing it to his lips and kissing her fingers. By the time he and Amelia was finished, there was barely time to go back to the apartment and exchange his civilian clothing for fatigues, then head back to begin his shift.