by Jeff Carlson
“But I’m sicker than ever.”
“I don’t think it can keep up. It’s an early model.”
Hernandez didn’t say anything else, although his mind must have been racing. Cam was still trying to make sense of everything they’d heard and he hadn’t just learned that he belonged in his grave.
“I’m sorry.” Ruth reached for Hernandez again, and the general took her hand.
She could fix us, Cam thought.
“I’m so sorry,” Ruth said, but Hernandez pressed his lips into a thin smile and said, “They kept us alive longer than we had any right to expect.” He meant himself and the survivors from his company. He was still drawing connections between himself and Leadville, taking comfort in the past.
“Can you save him?” Cam asked, because it would have been awful to say what he really wanted to know. Can you fix me? He was ashamed to be so selfish, because Hernandez continued to put everyone else first. Hernandez wouldn’t plead with her, not for himself—but his troops spoke on his behalf.
“Make the nanotech better,” Watts said. “Please,” Foshtomi added, as another man said, “The thing already works pretty good, right?”
Ruth ducked her head. Every day she seemed more humble, which was strange in someone so masterful. Her little habit of turning away came frequently now and Cam remembered the gesture especially from the day she’d first met Allison, avoiding the younger woman. Ruth was learning to evade challenges, which was dangerous for all of them, and Cam shared some of the blame for her indecisiveness.
“Maybe,” she said at last. “Yes. The potential here is incredible. The model you have inside you represents the best work of the top people in nanotech, fifty researchers with full machining gear and computers.”
She meant that she was alone. She was still hedging her words, as if there were any possibility they wouldn’t back her into this corner. Their lives depended on it. More importantly, her work would shape the outcome of the war. Mankind would rebuild on North America. There was no question of that, but the color of the natives’ skin and the languages they spoke would depend on Ruth’s success or failure.
The ability to move freely in the plague zones was only the beginning. A nanotech capable of healing even serious wounds would make them unstoppable.
Cam flexed his ruined hands and glanced at Deborah, Ruth, and Hernandez, all of them hurt in different ways. What if they were able to stand up again after being shot or burned? They would be superhuman, and Cam tried to form a prayer to all of the scientists who had been killed in Leadville.
Help her, he thought. You can help her somehow. Shouldn’t they be able to talk to Ruth through their work? There would be clues and other evidence in the nanotech, obvious problems to fix and improvements to be made.
“You’ve done it before,” Cam said.
“I’ve seen it,” Watts agreed.
In the lab in Sacramento, Ruth had quickly drawn together and improved the work of four science teams, building upon the original archos tech to create the first working vaccine. Of course, she had also had the help of two specialists, D.J. and Todd, both of whom were either dead or hopelessly lost.
“A lot of people are depending on you,” Hernandez said.
Ruth wouldn’t look at them. “I need time,” she said. “Maybe too much time. And I don’t have any equipment here.”
“You do in Grand Lake,” Hernandez said.
“Yes. Some.”
“We can get you there.”
* * * *
They ran northeast on the morning of July 1st, moving downhill before the dawn lifted over the horizon. The mountains in the east topped out at fourteen thousand feet, hiding the sun. Cam felt his gaze drawn again and again to those peaks. It was difficult to tell in the brilliant new light, but those mountains looked unusually smooth along their southern edges. They were melted. Their bulk was all that had spared Aspen Valley from the bombing, channeling the worst of the blast away. Even so, Ruth’s escort had quickly hiked into an area where the ground was a marsh, still waterlogged from the floods of snowmelt, and yet the fallen trees were brittle and dry.
“Watch out.” Foshtomi stopped Cam from following Mitchell. Mitchell had stepped over a dead gray stump into an ordinary-looking puddle, but the surface was deceptive. Mitchell sunk to his hip. He twisted to grab the stump and Foshtomi splashed forward to help, both of them coated with the spotty black muck of eroding bark. “Hang on,” Foshtomi called.
Cam looked back. They were in the middle of the group to assist Ruth while most of the squad ranged ahead, but Ruth was already looking for another way through, talking with Deborah. She pointed and moved left.
“Wait!” Cam said, hustling to join her.
A few trees still jutted into the sky, leafless and broken. This long mountainside was covered with blowdowns. Fortunately the spruce and aspen forest had been thin at ninety-five hundred feet, because moments after the blast wave knocked them over, the floods had locked the shattered trunks and branches together in a treacherous puzzle like pick-up sticks.
The undergrowth was a different matter. Most of the brush and grass had survived the heat and the windstorms. In many places, they weren’t drowning either. The trees and rocks formed thousands of small dams, directing the water into rivulets and swamps—but even where the ground bumped up, the brush was sickly. When he touched one, the leaves crumbled away like confetti. Every minute on this ruined slope, Cam was sure they were absorbing radiation.
He reached for Ruth’s arm as she began to crab her way over a pair of logs after Deborah. “You have to wait,” he said.
Her dark eyes flashed at him. They no longer wore their goggles and masks. There was no need, so he got the full brunt of Ruth’s expression. “Let go,” she said. “Let go of me!” She climbed across, peeling bark away in clumps beneath her damp gloves and boots.
Cam followed her. “Goddammit, wait,” he said, looking for Deborah’s eyes instead of Ruth’s. He was slowed by his ribs and Ruth had already limped to the next blowdown, grabbing for handholds among its jagged branches.
She’d been like this ever since Hernandez left them.
“You have to talk to her,” Cam said, striding alongside Deborah, but the tall blond only shrugged, almost indifferent.
“I think she’s right. We need to keep moving.”
“If she breaks her leg,” Cam said, raising his voice.
Suddenly Ruth stopped in front of them. Cam looked out across the hillside. Forty yards ahead, Estey had raised his hand, signaling for them across the snarled trees, mud, and water. In the space between, Goodrich and Ballard also stood waiting. The soldiers made three strong human shapes among the debris.
Cam waved back at Estey and said, to Ruth, “It’s stupid for you to walk in front. We have to get back to the others.”
But that wasn’t what had stopped her. She’d found a bird. “Oh,” Deborah said softly as Ruth knelt and reached for the pathetic creature.
The finch couldn’t have been in the plague zone very long because it was still alive, although its feathers were molting from its belly and neck. It flopped weakly in the muck, trying to escape. It had no strength in its wings and it might have been blind, too. The bird’s eyes were a cloudy blue-white that Cam had never seen before.
“This way!” Estey yelled, and Cam waved again, although he wasn’t sure if Ruth would obey. She hesitated with her gloves on either side of the bird. He thought she must not have seen the bloated chipmunks they’d passed fifteen minutes ago, two little bodies that had washed down the mountainside together. The chipmunks would have stopped her, too, and he preferred her wild impatience.
Ruth could be careless of her own safety when she was manic, but it also made her dangerous to anything in her way. They couldn’t afford for her to fall apart. They needed to harness her expertise one more time—and they were still an hour from their rendezvous. Cam hoped to God she’d make it.
“Look at him,” she said. S
he meant the bird.
“We need to go,” Cam said, and Deborah added, “Ruth, the sun’s coming up.”
“Right.” She didn’t move at first. “You’re right. It’s just a fucking bird.” Ruth stood up and pushed past them with her trembling, filthy gloves.
They were on foot because Hernandez had driven back to Sylvan Mountain, both to rejoin the base and as a decoy for enemy satellites. His trucks were far more likely to attract attention than a handful of people, especially since his vehicles were moving toward the front. If there was an attack, Hernandez wanted to draw the fire to himself. He was buying time. He’d organized a flight of helicopters to take Ruth north again, but he didn’t want to risk a pickup too close to Sylvan Mountain. The Chinese had too many guns focused on the area. The invaders had also continued to push their advantage in the air war. Helicopters would be vulnerable no matter what he did, but Hernandez intended to lead a massive counteroffensive to push the Chinese back. A diversion.
You just make sure you do your best, Hernandez had said as Ruth leaned over his forearm, jabbing the inside of his arm with a needle that she immediately sank into her own wrist. That was why she was so upset. It was clear that Hernandez didn’t expect to see the outcome of her work, and Cam thought he would probably ask all of his sickest men and women to follow him in the front waves of the assault. Cam thought they would say yes.
The worst that Ruth faced were scratches or a turned ankle, and she seemed eager to hurt herself, shoving through the branches and mud. They were incubating. They’d dropped below the barrier forty minutes ago and the perfected vaccine would beat out the earlier model, swiftly multiplying as it was first to disassemble the plague. At the same time, the booster nano should help protect them against the radiation.
Hernandez would give his life for hers. With more time in the labs in Grand Lake, Ruth had the ability to turn the war in their favor by improving the booster nano. There seemed to be no limit to what it could do. Accelerating a man’s capacity to heal was only the beginning. She might be able to double their strength, their reflexes, their sight. But as always the problem was contamination. If they could pass an improved booster among themselves, they would inevitably spread it to the enemy. Supersoldiers would have the advantage only for a short period before the enemy rose up with the same new traits. The United States would need to launch their new attacks in a single coordinated thrust, if there was time—if there were still enough Americans left.
The swamp turned black as Estey led them into an area where the collapsing forest had ignited and burned before the floods extinguished the fire. Cam saw another dying bird. Then he spotted a blue Pepsi can and wondered how it had gotten there.
From somewhere north came the long, shuddering wake of jet fighters. “Down!” Estey screamed. Most of them splashed into the charcoal-encrusted grime. Ruth stood looking up. Foshtomi grabbed the back of her jacket. “Get down, you idiot,” Foshtomi said, but the thundering sound was far away and getting farther, fading into the night sky behind them.
Cam turned to see the dark west horizon stutter with orange bursts of light as gigantic explosions filled the valleys beyond Sylvan Mountain. U.S. fighters were slamming the Chinese again, preparing the way for the ground assault.
Hernandez had some advantages. He had elevation. It was ironic. The Colorado armies had stayed above ten thousand feet because they were afraid of the plague, ceding most of the lowlands and highways to the Chinese, but now they would crash into the enemy with all the momentum of superior positions. Not for her, Cam thought. They weren’t only doing it for her, although Hernandez might have tried more conservative tactics if he hadn’t wanted to protect Ruth above everything else. That was why she was so unsettled. Thousands more would die to serve her, no matter if it was her decision or not.
The sun touched them at last as they hiked out of the swamp onto a ridgeline. The light felt warm and clean—and the wind began to carry the sounds of artillery. Then there were more planes. The clamor of war followed them for miles and Ruth kept her head down, limping through the rock and scorched grass as fast as she was able.
The thrum of helicopters echoed from the shallow mountain pass in front of them. It became a roar as three snub-nosed Black Hawks surged out of the landscape ahead. Estey knelt with his radio as Goodrich waved both arms over his head, so Cam was surprised when two of the attack choppers banked away and kept going. More decoys. The third helicopter came straight for them and flared hard, lowering its skids to the earth as the crew chief banged open the door.
* * * *
“Do you trust me?” Ruth asked, leaning close enough that her hair whipped at Cam’s face. He barely heard her. On the flight deck, the sound of the rotors was bone-jarring. The turbines screamed each time the chopper lifted and swung through the terrain. Cam looked out from the noise at the quiet world flitting by. The shapes of mountains heaved up and down, but the desolation was constant. Endless miles were burned or flooded or brown with dead trees.
Ruth leaned away to see his face. There was something new in her eyes, excitement and fear, an idea, and Cam nodded. He let her brush her lips against his good ear again.
“I need you to trust me one more time,” she said.
* * * *
Estey’s Rangers were separated from each other as soon as the chopper landed in Grand Lake. Cam and Deborah were pulled into the effort as well. Special Forces medics drew several hypodermics of blood from each of them. Other soldiers led them to command shelters and barracks, rapidly pricking the insides of their arms with needles, then stabbing those bloody slivers into other men and women. It was almost funny. Cam was badly worn and the process had a madcap feel that reminded him of the bumbling clown shows he’d seen at various fairs and amusement parks when he was a kid.
Where did that memory come from? he wondered, pressing a gauze pad to his bleeding arm as three soldiers rushed him toward another bunker. They shouted once at a civilian. The man tried to grab Cam but the soldiers punched him in the face.
Grand Lake was in turmoil. Most of the area was evacuating. Cam found himself in a tent crowded with pilots in full flight gear, all of whom ran from the barracks as soon as they were inoculated. Cam also passed through two shelters full of officers where he learned as much as he needed, listening to them confirm signals and rendezvous dates. A full platoon had taken Ruth to her lab. Some of the top commanders were also staying, at least until alternate bases were established below the barrier. They were trying their damnedest to get out of here without crippling their defenses. That was impossible. The transition would be a staggering amount of work exactly when they needed most to focus on the enemy, but they were too vulnerable on these peaks. Chinese fighters had broken through to Grand Lake eight times in the past two days, strafing its makeshift air bases and ground crews. Enemy planes could come again any minute.
Cam knew something they didn’t. Neither sides’ efforts would matter if Ruth was successful. She no longer planned to improve the booster. She imagined a way to remove the enemy completely, and yet there was no guarantee that her scheme would work. Until then, Cam could only do his part.
He spotted Foshtomi once in between the tents, running with her own bodyguards. Another time he saw a mob on the hillside across from him, a near-riot in the refugee camps that must have gathered around another of his squadmates. A lot of the refugees were already gone, taking their chances with the early model of the vaccine. Some had stayed, however, either from inertia or to help organize the rest.
Allison Barrett was one of those who’d remained. She found Cam that evening as he ate with Ballard and Goodrich. The rest of their squad had yet to reappear, and his heart leapt at the sight of a familiar face. Cam stood up from the table and walked past his guards, embracing her.
“Come with me,” Allison whispered. Her blue eyes were bright and urgent.
He shook his head. “I can’t.” He thought she meant outside the tent, but Allison had larger
plans.
Allison bared her teeth in her fierce, beautiful grin and said, “You can help us. Please. Regular people are important, too. We need more leaders and you’ve been under the barrier so many times. You know what to expect.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Please. We’re going east.” She kept her arm cinched around his waist. “This place will get hit again. You know it will.”
“Yes.”
Ballard said they’d used the snowflake. The ground assaults out of Sylvan Mountain had failed almost immediately, beaten back by Chinese air superiority as Hernandez must have expected. Hours ago, Grand Lake had dusted the Chinese as they pursued Hernandez back into the mountains, decimating many of the U.S. forces as well. It was a desperate show of strength. Both sides were frantic and outraged. The rumor was that the launch codes were locked. There could be a nuclear exchange, and Grand Lake was surely a prime target.
“You should go,” Cam said.
“You can’t help her any more. You’ve done enough.” Allison bared her teeth again in her aggressive way. “She’s not in love with you.”
“What?”
“She doesn’t love you. Not like that.”
“That’s not what this is about,” Cam said honestly. The connection he felt with Ruth was much more than as a lover. It was layered and powerful. Yes, they had been physically intimate, touching and kissing. Maybe there would be more. But his feelings for her went beyond that. He had to see this through.
“You can change your mind,” Allison said. “You can come with us anytime.”
Then she walked away. Cam went after her, although he stopped at the wide door of the tent. Two of his guards had followed him and he glanced out at the hazy night, searching among the busy lights of American planes. Would there be any warning?
