by LC Champlin
With a gulp, she took up the mic. “All security forces, this is Dr. Lexa Birk. Neil Crevan is dead. You are hereby ordered to surrender to the authorities. All other employees, remain where you are.”
On the security cameras, scattered scientists and staff huddled in offices. The mercenaries halted. They looked at one another.
Albin remarked, “They require encouragement, it seems.”
She shot him a glare before continuing, “We are surrounded. You will be treated fairly if you lay down your arms.”
The men stared up at the cameras. Then they pounded down their respective corridors. They headed for emergency escape tunnels, no doubt.
“Your employees’ obedience leaves something to be desired. However, the Peace Monitors do not.” With a few clicks of the mouse, Nathan sent them to intercept the mercenaries.
“I’ve done what you wanted.”
“Yes.” Her discomfort at her organizations’ creations brought a thrill of victory. “Now I need your brother.”
A screen showed the researcher in the deserted infirmary. He lay on a stretcher, his foot propped on pillows to keep the limb above heart level. He looked pale, though whether from blood loss or from the situation, who could say.
Nathan keyed the audio. “Dr. Victor Birk, this is Nathan. We have the situation under control, but we need to know how to help the infected subjects. How do we ensure their minds return to normal structurally without making them vulnerable to control?”
Swallowing hard, Birk dragged his gaze to the camera in the ceiling. “As far as I know, there is no way other than to start the process and pull the plug.”
“I thought as much. Thank you,” Nathan added. “By the way, Doctor, when all this is settled, my company will have an opening for a researcher in your field. We’ll require an expert to help us bring these poor victims the assistance they need.” Translation: to make a fat profit while undoing the evil Birk and he had wrought.
Birk gave a dry laugh. Then coughed. “Side with you? Yeah, after I get out of prison. And if we survive this.”
“Then it’s a deal.”
Now for the hard work. “Badal, Mikhail, let’s begin.”
++++++++++++
Mr. Serebus waved half the cannibals—rather, the infected people—out of the room to guard the entry. The others ranged about, sedate.
The dark man collaborated with his colleagues and captives to determine the best ways to subdue the contagion and protect its victims. The old fire of achievement glowed in Mr. Serebus’s face. While much of the technological specifications eluded Albin, the basic idea shone through: They would compromise. Better to work on each cannibal individually than allow anyone control over the mass.
As they worked, the authorities established a perimeter around the Mercury building. Some SWAT deployments required hours to establish and execute. Others required minutes. With luck, this would fall between the extremes.
Beside Albin, Denver and Taylor eyed the Peace Monitors. The siblings did not appear fearful. Evidently they had begun seeing them as humans with a communicable disease rather than as abominations.
Amanda leaned closer to him, touching his shoulder. “Albin, I feel so bad. If we can save these people, that means we murdered—”
“No. We acted in self-defense. In a way, they died as an outcome of the disease. Just as when people who are under the influence of hallucinogenic substances are shot, they die as an outworking of the drug. Before the invention of antibiotics, hundreds of millions of people died from infections that could have otherwise been cured. Possessing a remedy does not make one liable for what occurred before the remedy existed. Hundreds of thousands more died in wars and continue to do so. They are in their right minds for the most part.” To consider the matter any other way would open the door to guilt and even madness.
“I suppose.” Amanda looked down at her daughters. “Poor Jennifer Nelson. She’ll never get to see Zander or Jeremy again. And vice versa.”
Bridges and Behrmann listened to the conversation. The reporter chewed her bottom lip. “I wanted to make a difference and to make the world a better place. I don’t know if I have.”
“Even if you have not,” Albin responded without emotion, “you have the story.”
She looked up, taking a breath to retort, but stopped when she saw he bore no ill-will or sarcasm.
“People need to know the story,” he continued. “It will help them make sense of this catastrophe and to move forward. It may even help prevent a similar incident.” Doubtful, but they could try.
Bridges kept a wary eye on the Peace Monitors. Now and again he would glance up to gauge the progress of the authorities. The police and military had cordoned off the area. Zip ties and multiple prisoner transport vans assisted in their handling of the infected.
The economist breathed a sigh he seemed to have been holding since this disaster broke loose. “I can’t believe this is almost over.”
Mr. Serebus straightened from the console to address the screens hosting Birk and the engineers. “That should do it. Thank you, everyone. Your expertise was invaluable.”
A chorus of acknowledgements followed. Dr. Lexa Birk, however, appeared on the verge of vomiting.
Steeling himself, Albin left the Musters to murmur in Mr. Serebus’s ear, “Sir, what of the network in your own brain?”
Chapter 101
All Who Call
Never Alone – Jesse Bonanno
Nathan looked over at his best friend. The dreaded question required an answer. “I can’t leave it. I can’t risk that someone would discover a way to control me. I felt it when Neil tried to force me to attack you. I don’t ever want to feel that again. Being manipulated is one thing, but losing control of one’s will is another entirely.
“I’ve already wiped the network program from the servers here. It’s backed up on external media, no doubt, but this will cause a cascading global system crash.”
The data nuke also wiped traces of the file transfer to his covert servers. The authorities could not track the path even if they performed a deep search of the hard drives, for the transfer bounced through multiple proxies around the planet to end in his unregistered servers. They would delete the data from their memory once the automated system burned the files to DVD.
“You are giving up the ability to control the infected subjects.” The blond leveled his ice-blue gaze at Nathan.
“I know.”
“But you do not know what effect removing the network from your tissues will have. It may not even be possible.” Worry wrinkled Albin’s brow. What a man, showing concern for the bastard who had attempted to murder him!
“I don’t know what will happen if I leave it, either. If uninstalling the network turns me into one of the Dalits, then it’s the sacrifice I have to make. What if someone kidnaps me and forces me to control them, or learns how to do so from me? No.” He turned back to the console. “I must do this.” His finger hovered over the keyboard to enter the uninstall command. “Lexa, have they ever tried this on a human? Or did they simply kill the experiment’s subjects?” Numb calm filled him.
She glared. “We couldn’t allow them to be a threat.”
“Meaning, you don’t know what will happen.” No matter.
He tapped the code to delete the network.
Lights flickered across his vision and in his mind’s eye. Everything went blank.
Then the pain came.
++++++++++++
Mr. Serebus regarded Albin for a moment after pressing the last key. The red and gold flecks from the contagion had multiplied in the man’s dark irises.
Then he turned away, his face in his hands. He dropped to his knees with a growl. He leaned forward until he rested his forehead on the cold tile as if bowing before his God. His breath came in gasps. With a grunt and a spasm, he curled into the fetal position. Hands over his ears, he snarled.
Albin moved to his side and plac
ed a hand on Mr. Serebus’s shoulder. “Breathe.” What else could he say? What could he do? What could anyone do?
Mr. Serebus hissed, then drew a long, slow breath. His muscles twitched. Blood dribbled from his nose. He kept his eyes closed tightly with his grimace.
Behind, Albin’s companions watched, evidently unsure of how to intervene.
On the screen above, Janine looked down at her husband. “Nathan, be strong. If anyone can get through this, it’s you. Remember, Davie and I are counting on you. Fight through this. I’m right here. Albin is too. You’ve been through too much to give up now.”
“I will not leave you, sir.” Albin gripped his friend’s upper arm. “I don’t know if you can hear me, but I am by your side.”
“We’re here too,” Amanda announced.
“You can do this,” Behrmann agreed. She darted forward to kneel beside him.
Bridges came to crouch beside the reporter. “You’re stronger than this, Nathan. Help is on the way.”
The sisters took their turn as well: “Fight,” Denver admonished, “like you fought for us.”
“I . . . I forgive you.” Taylor choked on the last word.
Judge nosed at his back.
Then the trembling and seizing ceased. Mr. Serebus’s breathing slowed, growing irregular. Serosanguinous fluid continued to drip from his nostrils. Did it contain cerebrospinal fluid?
The horrifying feeling of utter powerlessness descended on Albin. I can do nothing. His heart thundered in his ears. Please . . . please help him . . . God.
++++++++++++
Sights, sounds, pain. They washed over him.
Thoughts, emotions, pain. They submerged him.
They didn’t belong to him. They belonged to the others.
Then nothing.
Darkness. Emptiness. Aloneness.
Where am I? Who am I?
Terror worse than the pain and confusion overwhelmed all thought.
I am . . . alone. Trapped. In Hell.
Then two points of red-gold light blazed. Their glow expanded, chasing the dark and leaving pure white.
Who are you? a voice like many waters asked.
I am N . . . nobody.
Except?
Except . . . I am God’s chosen.
Choose life, that you and your descendants may live.
Yes.
Peace and warmth wrapped him. Terror fled.
++++++++++++
With a grunt, Mr. Serebus struggled onto his elbows and knees. He coughed and snorted, shaking his head. His eyes opened but his gaze remained on the floor. “It is finished,” he panted. “The Most High is Master over the realm of mankind and sets over it whom He wills.”
A grin of relief spread across Albin’s features. Trembling, he sat back. A shaking sigh escaped him. Thank you.
++++++++++++
Nothing howled. Nothing whispered.
A presence at his side—Nathan turned, an unflappable calm filling him, yet not the sedation of medication. A blond man with a weary expression but whose blue eyes shone sharp and bright as glacial ice regarded him. His name? White. No. Not exactly. Albin. Albin Conrad.
Nathan seized him in an embrace. The attorney returned it, helping his friend stand.
“Albin,” Nathan breathed through clenched jaws as he felt the man’s body heat against him. “I was alone. All alone. And then . . . I wasn’t.”
He relaxed and held Albin at arm’s length. The blond adviser grinned—a rare sight, like a comet. “You are never alone, sir.”
Behind him, the pack watched, relief on their faces.
The Peace Monitors still surrounded Lexa, but now they stood erect and stared into the distance.
“Thank you,” Nathan croaked through his dry throat. “After all I’ve done, you shouldn’t have. But I’m glad you did.”
He looked up at the screen to see Janine. She smiled down like an angel in a cathedral: pleased, proud, welcoming. “Nathan, I’m so glad. I love you.”
“I love you too. I’ll contact you when I am able. And now,” he addressed the assembled, “let’s greet our visitors, shall we?”
Chapter 102
He that Calleth
Who I Am – The Score
With the Peace Monitors offline, Marvin and Josephine took charge of Lexa. Vic would survive until help arrived.
The group set off with Albin partially supporting Nathan. Walking still proved a challenge as the large muscle groups disagreed on how much to cooperate. But with each step, coordination improved.
The pack made their way past Neil Crevan’s corpse. Cold, pale, aged, he looked as cadaverous as he had in life. Nathan stopped, turning to study the body. “Power corrupted and eventually killed you. In the beginning was the Word—the Logos—and the Word was with God, and the Word was not you. You said God gave you the right because He did not stop you. No. He sent me to push you into your own pit.
“I . . . forgive you, but I will never forget.” A few weeks ago, satisfaction and superiority would have come with looking upon the body. But after all that had transpired, only regret for the old man’s loss and corruption found a place.
Albin closed his eyes, bowing his head like a mourner at a funeral. Then he turned with Nathan to resume their exit.
They encountered squads of Peace Monitors, but the infected-but-recovering people merely stared ahead with expressions of mild bemusement.
When the group emerged on the entry area, Nathan signaled them to stop. “Everyone, put your hands up. I will speak with the law enforcement.” If they shot him, so be it. He proceeded to the front doors unaided. Hands raised, he shouldered his way through. The afternoon sun greeted him as he exited the nightmare world of Mercury. Scores of weapons belonging to law enforcement and military followed his every move.
He cleared his throat. “I spoke to Director Washington of the DHS. The affected will no longer hurt you. They require medical care.
“My people inside were hostages of LOGOS, as was I. We have one of their leaders in custody. Another hostage is in the infirmary below, wounded. I’m not sure who else is here.”
The world went blurry. “Now, if you would kindly call the paramedics for me . . .” Static buzzed in his ears. “I would greatly appreciate it.”
His knees went weak and the ache behind his eyes worsened to a vise-like pressure around his skull. The world pulsed red, then black. The ocean in his ears overwhelmed thought, pulling him into its warmth and oblivion.
++++++++++++
Outside, Mr. Serebus went to his knees. He slumped to his side on the pavement. He lay still as officers in SWAT gear advanced.
“No,” Albin breathed. No! Did the contagion relapse? Albin’s legs ached to break into a sprint to assist his friend, but the situation prevented it.
The following events came in a blur: The military and police moved in, taking custody of Albin and his companions, even as Albin yelled for them to treat Mr. Serebus for head trauma. Medics moved Mr. Serebus onto a stretcher. He retained a low level of consciousness; fortunately he did not prove combative.
Received as hostages, the evacuees earned prompt attention. Medics saw to Lexa, while the military loaded the healthy civilian charges into a trailer that doubled as a mobile field hospital and in this case an isolation unit.
The shock of recent events rendered everyone silent as they rode.
Albin looked about at the bloodless, strained faces of his companions. False reassurance only made the eventual truth hurt the worse. Thus, he settled for gratitude. “Thank you all for what you have done.” He looked each in the eye, last of all Taylor and Denver. “You’ve all been immensely courageous. You acted with wherewithal and purpose that I have never before witnessed in anyone besides my family. It has been an honor to fight beside you. Whatever happens, know that I will do my best to protect us all.”
The assembled voiced thanks and similar sentiments.
Denver remarked
, “Albin fought for us before, and he helped us fight for ourselves. Now we all have to do our part.”
Albin smiled. “Well said, Ms. Denver.”
Chapter 103
Lay Me Down in Peace
Dear X (You Don’t Own Me) – Disciple
Nathan smiled as he settled back on the hospital bed’s white pillow, nestling in the equally white sheets and blanket. He had passed most of the first two days of his stay sleeping. The doctors explained this resulted from his brain injury. Yesterday, he’d dealt with the DHS. And slept more. Today, however, sleep did not invite him into its embrace. The dull ache behind his forehead had also diminished. It barely rated a 1/10 on the pain scale. And not from medication.
His isolation room in Colorado Springs’s Memorial Hospital held all the necessities of life at the moment: a bed, chair, bathroom, TV, intercom, video calling tablet, and most importantly, a meal tray.
He tore the foil off the chocolate pudding cup. Ah, the chemical-laden flavor that resembled nothing of real pudding. It summoned memories of his childhood in Alaska. Now and then, the family would obtain items such as this when they went on sale. Or when the Serebus household traveled to the mainland. His mother had pointed out the genuine article trumped the artificial, but something about the novelty always appealed.
The calling tablet awoke with a white screen and a slider bar for answering. It chirped for his attention from its adjustable, wheeled stand. The facility used the same device for remote language translating services.
After sticking his spoon in the pudding, he swiped the slider. The dour face of Director Washington appeared.
“Director, what a pleasure.” He offered a languid smile. “To what do I owe the honor?” He set the pseudo dessert aside with reluctance.
