by Hunt, James
“What’d you do? Before this?”
“I was a doctor. General practitioner.”
“Why aren’t you stationed in one of the communities? Doctors are hard to find these days, and the Coalition would probably let you pick wherever you wanted to go.”
The old man shook his head. “No. I didn’t want to perpetuate their false hope. And this was the price I paid for my subversive behavior.” He gestured to his surroundings.
“Did you see it coming? The soil crisis?”
“Not soon enough. I remember receiving my first case of GMO poisoning. Of course, back then we didn’t know what it was. It resembled all of the symptoms of a flu bug. Then once the cases started piling up, that’s when questions started being asked, fingers pointing blame. The GMO companies screaming that it was the pesticide companies, the pesticide companies screaming that it was the GMO companies’ fault, the politicians yelling that it was both of their faults, and no one willing to share any of the information they had on their products and how they’d been using them. Everyone was afraid to let the science reveal the truth. They were scared of what it meant.”
The pain in Alex’s arm seemed to catch fire the longer the old man spoke. His head started to ache. Flashes of those first few months of famine pierced his memory. He started to feel cold, dizzy.
“He was nine,” the old man said. “That first patient with GMO poisoning that I had. I sent him home with some antibiotics and told his mother to keep fluids in him. He died a month later. When we discovered exactly what the GMO-24 strain did to the body, I realized just how painfully that boy died.”
Alex could hear the shouts and the sharp fire of gunshots. He could smell the smoke choking him and the fire melting his skin. His muscles tensed up.
“The acids in your stomach weakening to the point that they couldn’t digest water. Then the subsequent shutdown of your kidneys, liver, intestines. All of them just dissolving into nothing. Rotting from the inside out,” the old man continued.
“The screams,” Alex said softly to himself. “You never forget the screams.” He turned to the old man. “Do you remember that? People just… bargaining with some unnamed deity for more time. Saying they’ll give you anything for just a few more days, hours, seconds.”
The old man’s green eyes softened in the candlelight. The look on his face wasn’t one of revulsion or pity but of understanding. It was a face that had heard those cries before. But unlike the old man, who didn’t have the ability to save his patients, Alex was left with the ghosts of the dead that he could have saved.
“It was a hard time,” the old man said.
“Things haven’t gotten much better.” Alex closed his eyes, shaking the memories from his mind. “Look, the headquarters in Topeka will be checking in soon, and when they don’t get a response, they’ll be sending the cavalry. You won’t want to be here when that happens. Do you have any place you can go?”
“I’ll just do what the rest of them did. Grab as much food as I can carry then get as far away from this place as I can. Then die. I don’t think it will be as bad for me as it will for some of the others. I’m ready for it to be done.”
The old man didn’t have anything left in the tank. He’d reached that place of accepted apathy. It was an incredibly dangerous state of mind. Alex extended his hand, and the old man gripped it weakly.
“There’s a river just south of here. It could be patrolled by sentries looking for me, but at least you’ll be close to a water source. You might last a little longer with it,” Alex said.
“Thank you.” The old man got up from his seat and grabbed a rag that he converted to a pouch to carry whatever supplies he’d take with him.
Alex headed to the sentry station in the back. He gained access to the Coalition’s database with one of the sentries’ key cards and searched for Meeko and Harper’s location. They were stored at two separate camps, both just outside of Topeka. Headquarters would be checking in at this location in about six hours, and it would take him around five hours to get to Topeka. Time was his enemy now, and he was already running dangerously low on it.
In addition to the .22 rifle, Alex grabbed another AR-15 and ammo for the .308. He grabbed some food for the drive and found a Kevlar chest piece that fit him. The last piece of his deception was the uniform. He traced his finger over the stitching on the front, which read “Class 2.” The fabric was just as bulky as he remembered it.
Chapter 9
The water from the hose spurted onto Gordon’s hands. A blended mixture of water and blood splashed to the ground and swirled in the dirt, turning it to mud. Gordon rubbed his hands furiously, trying to remove the dried red stains, but no matter how hard he scrubbed, he couldn’t rid himself of the pinkish tinge that lingered on his hands. Gordon summoned one of the sentries over.
“Change of plans. I’m heading back to Topeka. I want all of our men to stay here. You do not let any of these people move, understand? If that son of a bitch comes back, I want him alive. I don’t care what condition you bring him to me in, just as long as he’s still breathing. You got that?” Gordon asked.
“Yes, sir.”
Gordon climbed into the truck, and the cul-de-sac grew smaller in the rearview mirror. He rested his head back on the seat. He could feel his body melting into the leather underneath him. “Wake me before we arrive in Topeka.” The driver nodded. It was exhausting work, torturing people.
***
The sun had reached its highest point in the sky when Todd arrived at the site. The straps from his pack sloped his tired shoulders. The thickness of tracks from large machinery intensified as Todd moved closer to where he’d placed the test soil. The closer Todd moved, the larger the hole from where they excavated grew. The crater was at least ten square feet in diameter and six feet deep. Todd chose this place due to its remote location. The Soil Coalition still sent out search parties for any usable land, but most of Wyoming had already been searched.
“They took it.”
Todd jumped, spinning around and almost falling into the pit behind him. Emma had dust caked on her face, and her lips were chapped from the sun.
“Emma, what are you doing here?” Todd asked.
“That’s how they knew. They know we did it. That’s why they’re here,” Emma said, her eyes slightly glazed over and still staring at the pit.
Todd glanced around frantically. “Did you see anyone else following me? Emma? Did you come alone?” He gave her a gentle shake of her shoulders.
“No,” Emma answered, shaking her head.
“You shouldn’t have come here.”
“It’s Billy. Something’s wrong. Ben came to find me.”
“What?”
“He’s not sure what it is, but he knows it’s bad.”
Billy was their key to the outside. If something happened to him, then everything they were working on would be put into jeopardy. “Let’s head back.” But what Todd couldn’t see was the man in the black jacket with a pair of binoculars, watching him.
***
The driver woke Gordon just as they entered Topeka. He rubbed his blurry eyes, and he could still see the red tinge of blood on his hands. He dropped them in his lap, annoyed by the fact that he was still dirty. “Take me to my place. I want to shower before I go back to the office.”
“Yes, sir.”
The images of the large steel structures of the farm camps they passed reflected in the SUV’s passenger window. He smiled. The lack of control he’d felt over the past few hours from the community’s insubordination had drained him. All he wanted was to know where the seeds were, and it didn’t matter how many times he hit them, or cut them, or spilled their blood, they just wouldn’t talk.
But those steel cages reaffirmed his control. It was a reminder that he held the whip, and with it the power to do whatever he wanted. He had the resources. He had the muscle. He had the food. He had everything he needed to maintain control and order. The vibration from his cell phone disr
upted his train of thought. He checked the call. It was Jake. “Tell me you found something good.”
“The soil the techs found definitely originated from this community. I watched two of its members take a walk to the original site.”
“Good. Keep an eye on them.”
“You want me to bring them in?”
“No, just pay them a visit, see what you can get out of them.”
Gordon snapped his phone shut and spun it between his fingers. A breakthrough discovery of fixing the soil contamination had the potential to unravel everything he’d built. If citizens knew they had it, they would rally toward them. His mind kept going back to what Jake had said about the community members hiding their nutrition levels. But how the fuck could they hide it?
Maybe they didn’t.
“Sydney.”
***
After Todd dropped Emma off at her home, he walked back to his own place with the dying light fading behind him. Once inside, he headed to his room and kicked off his shoes. He turned his back to the door, and a few seconds later a blinding pain cracked the back of his skull, sending waves of throbbing pressure across his entire head. He collapsed forward on the bed, arms and legs attempting to push himself up, but he was still too disoriented from the blow. He felt hands grab his neck and fling him off the bed. The blurred face of the thug from the blood testing stared back at him.
“Enjoy your walk?” the thug asked then sent his fist across Todd’s cheek.
A spray of spit and blood flew from Todd’s mouth from the force of the punch. He fell to his side, and the throbbing in his head intensified from the thug’s blow.
“How’d you do it? Huh? Where’s the rest of the soil?” the thug asked.
“I… don’t… know,” Todd stammered.
“You don’t know?” The thug removed a blade from his waist and held it up to Todd’s throat. “How about now?”
A dribble of blood rolled from Todd’s lip down his chin, where it hung until it dripped onto the thug’s knife. He opened and closed his eyes, trying to get a handle on the pounding in his skull. “I’m not telling you anything. So you better just kill me now.”
The thug applied more pressure, and the edge of the blade penetrated Todd’s skin, sending a small trickle of blood down his neck. Todd didn’t take his eyes off the thug. If he was going to die, then he was going to look at the man who did it.
“Idealistic prick,” the thug said then sent another blow to the side of Todd’s face, knocking him out cold.
***
Papers were scattered sporadically over Sydney’s desk. His hair stuck up wildly from running his hands through it. His body hunched over data that his eyes strained to interpret. The tiny red veins cut across the whites of his eyes like roads on a map, winding and twisting their way through the earth. He picked up the paper and viciously ripped it in half then tossed the small pieces into the air, and they rained down like confetti. He slammed his arms on the desk and buried his face into the small hole they made.
Sniffles echoed from underneath his shaggy mop of hair. He finally picked his head up and wiped the snot and tears from his face. He childishly kicked the ground, frustrated at his own inability to recreate what another scientist had already discovered.
Maybe his father was right. Maybe he was nothing. His accomplishments would remain stuck in the realm of the theoretical. And if that was the case, then what was his purpose? What was his contribution? If he could produce no value, then what value did he possess?
A violent pounding at the door snapped him out of his self-loathing, and the fear of the moment gripped him. The door handle wobbled, and Sydney heard the scrape of a key entering the lock. He quickly snatched up the papers around him that contained his manipulation of the community’s blood tests. He barely had half of them gathered when Gordon burst through the door and grabbed Sydney by the collar, pinning him down against his own desk.
“What did you do, Sydney? Did you do something for your daddy? Is that it? Did he tell you to falsify the data?” Gordon asked, his voice low.
“W-what are you talking about? M-my d-dad didn’t tell me to d-do anything.”
Gordon lifted Sydney’s small frame off the desk and onto the wall by the front door. The contact between Sydney’s skull and the concrete resounded with a loud crack. Sydney’s vision went black. He found himself falling in and out of consciousness.
“What did you do, you little shit?” Gordon asked.
Just before Sydney blacked out, a group of sentries rushed into the lab.
“Mr. Reath, someone’s attacked a farm camp,” the sentry said.
“Camps? How many were hit?”
“So far just one, but we’re trying to contain the situation.”
“Well, stop them!” Gordon bellowed, and Sydney finally passed out.
Chapter 10
The Humvee’s diesel engine rumbled along the highway outside of Topeka. Alex gripped the steering wheel tightly, doing his best to remain inconspicuous. He tugged at the collar of the uniform and shifted uncomfortably in his seat. Each time his eyes found the rearview mirror and he caught a glimpse of himself, he shuddered.
Alex had only been to Topeka three times. The first was during the Soil Coalition’s first attempt at setting up the communities. The second was after those communities had failed. And the third time was his recent trip with his seeds to speak with Gordon.
Meeko’s farm camp was just ahead, and according to the Soil Coalition’s database, the sentries were about to start a shift change. The traffic thickened on his approach. Trucks on either side of him were loaded down with freight and goods to be dispensed at local communities. Others were on their way to the airport to load their contents there. With almost all of the country’s food production coming out of the farm camps around the Midwest, the soil crisis had made Topeka the unofficial capital of the United States.
Alex filed into a line of trucks heading into the farm camp where Meeko was being held. Dozens of sentries armed with automatic rifles, accompanied by the other armored trucks, made for a slow crawl. He kept his eyes open for any gaps in security, any lulls in concentration. Although this farm camp had more firepower, the same haphazard approach to their efforts was consistent with the sentries he took down earlier, which told him that they hadn’t been alerted to what happened at the other camp.
If they didn’t know now, they’d find out any minute. He needed to get in and get out fast. The line of trucks finally ended at the farm camp’s vehicle hangar, and Alex pulled into a vacant spot. He quickly climbed out.
“Hey!” a voice called out.
Alex kept his eyes forward, ignoring the shout behind him. His skin burst with sweat.
“Hey, stop!” the voice called again, this time followed by the pounding of boots breaking into a run.
Alex quickened his pace. Then, just before he reached the door, he felt the slap of a hand on his shoulder, spinning him around.
“Hey,” the sentry said. “You can’t park there. Those spots are designated for vehicles assigned to this camp. You’re from camp 0241, right?”
“Um, yeah,” Alex answered.
“You here for a transfer or shift coverage or something?”
“Transfer, which I’m already late for. You think you could park it for me?” Alex said, extending the keys to him.
“Sure. Just make sure you get here earlier next time so this doesn’t happen again.”
The sentry snatched the keys and trotted off. Alex wiped the sweat off his forehead and continued inside. The farm camp here was easily three times as large as the one he raided earlier. Hundreds of workers, nothing more than skin and bones, swarmed the aisles of the hydroponic dens, tending to picking food, adding nutrients, or cleaning equipment. Most of the workers didn’t even realize he was there. Their overworked and undernourished bodies were lost in their brainless motion of slave labor. Each aisle that Alex walked down only revealed more of the same.
Finally, Alex saw him.
Meeko was at the very end of the row two aisles over. He could see the tuft of black curls poking over the top of the tanks. Alex kept his eyes locked on that hair, pushing his way through the zombies around him. He turned the corner and knocked over a worker carrying a crate of peas.
The sentries above hovered over the workers like hawks. One of them spotted Alex’s movements. “Hey! What’s going on down there?”
Alex stepped over the man and continued down the aisle. His actions had caused a few of the workers to break out of their stupor but brought more attention to himself from the other sentries.
“Stop!” another sentry ordered.
Meeko made eye contact with Alex. A smile curved onto his face. Alex tried to reach him before the other sentries noticed it. He was only going to get one chance at this. He brought his hand up, the other sentries barreling down upon him, and then smacked Meeko across his already-bruised face, which knocked him to the ground.
