"That's what I thought, Fred. Hand me that bottle."
"You want me to go, John?"
"No," John said, slowly standing up, teetering and then steading himself against one of the posts supporting the roof over the porch. "Meet and greet has always been my job. No need to stop that now. I'll do it."
"John, you don't look like you can do this. I should go."
"I can do it. You get your rifle and back me up. Keep your radio handy. You know the code."
"Yes, two-one-two. I'm not that drunk."
John went back into the lodge and smiled a drunken smile at Marceau, who was putting away some pots. "Marceau, how is it that everybody else becomes drunk, but you never do?"
"I am French, Jean. I know how much of what to drink, unlike some people."
"Like me," he said, opening the door to the basement. He crawled through the tunnel, grabbed a rifle from the cabinet in the corner, checked that his three twenty seven Magnum was nestled in the small of his back and climbed up onto his tractor. He breathed hard at the effort required and wondered if he really needed to do this. It was either somebody who wanted to kill him or somebody who wanted his food. Neither one justified that amount of effort or danger, especially since the stranger had disrupted the peace and tranquility the group had enjoyed.
George had installed steel panels in the front and sides of the tractor cab to ward off wayward bullets. John hadn't had any need for those before, but today could be the day George had prepped for. John made his way down the zigzag driveway looking through a small opening in the front steel plate. The lights on the tractor illuminated the driveway and when he reached the gate, they illuminated a face -- a familiar face.
"Han Chung, is that you?" John jumped down from the tractor, rushed over to the gate and hugged the man heartily. "I thought you were dead."
"Hey, Big Guy. I was hoping you would be here. Not sure what I would do if you weren't. I'm about out of food."
"No problem," John said, opening the gate. "We're well stocked right now. You're alone, I assume."
"Afraid so. My companion was attacked by one of those funny looking people."
"The mutants."
"I barely escaped, myself. I put four shots into the creature before he stopped coming at me."
"How's everything back in China? Better than here?"
"Actually, Big Guy, I left before you did, if the rumors are right. After you left the office, I went straight to the airport and flew to Shanghai with a quick connection to Mexico City. You said I should get out of Dodge and I did. As far as I could go. I pulled in every favor I could, pulled every string I could and bought off everybody else. Called everybody I knew. I stayed in Mexico City for a few months, then I just followed the crowd across the Arizona border. I spent time in a dozen small towns west of here, trying to erase my history. Wasn't hard. Most people thought I was Mexican. I don't know if I was coming here, to your place, intentionally, or just wandering around. I've been scrounging for food for the last few weeks. Even lost some weight," Chung said, looking at his belt and pulling it one notch tighter.
John heaved Chung's bicycle onto the back of the tractor and he and Chung drove back to the barn. As they walked over to the front porch of the lodge, everyone was standing, wondering who this new person was. John introduced Chung to the group, saying that Chung was the second best spy in China and the second best party host in China. He then said that he recommended bringing Chung into the group. Everyone was somewhat surprised that they were asked to vote with such little information, but with John vouching for Chung, nobody objected. The fact that they were all seriously drunk probably contributed to their lack of concern. Chung couldn't have come at a better time. Marceau fixed Chung a dinner from what was left of the pork while the rest of the group discussed John's relationship with Chung and the past. John told the group about Chung's last few weeks. Later on, everyone retired to the great room.
"Tell us Chung," said Fred. "Who were you spying for? And who were you spying on?"
"Ha. I think you already know the answer. I was born in Taiwan. The government there was always afraid that China would eventually decide to take over the island. They thought that a major virus outbreak would give the Chinese an excuse to invade the island and a weakened government couldn't put up a fight. Then, they would bring out the vaccine and everything would be fine again. Except that the Chinese Army would never go home. But, we underestimated their goals. We knew what they wanted to do, but not who they were going to do it to. The US was their target, not Taiwan. We were just, as you say, small potatoes."
"Sounds like a decent plan," said Binky. "But you underestimated your foe."
"They had bigger fish to fry," said George. "And fry us they did."
"John said that you had a run-in with the mutants," said Fred.
"Yeah. My partner was thrown fifty feet up against a brick building. She didn't make it. Head was smashed like a melon." Chung stopped talking for a minute and his eyes glazed over as he watched the fire. "I put four slugs into the beast," he said, without any emotion in his voice.
"You must be a terrible shot. How many times did you hit it? Only the last shot?" said Hans.
"It's always the last shot that does it," said Binky. "Don’t know why people even shoot the first three or four. Waste of ammunition, I say."
"John can tell you I'm a great shot. Not one bullet missed. Three in the chest and one in the head. The last one dropped him."
"Really," said Binky. "Tough brutes, are they? Those zombie movies were spot on. I only saw a few, movies, that is, but they were all the same. Nothing would stop them."
"How long ago was that?" said Masako.
"A week. Maybe ten days. You're worried about me bringing the virus to you? Is that it?"
"Always," she said, looking at him strangely. Almost like she was trying to look inside him to see if he was carrying the virus or telling the truth. "We don't know if we're immune or just lucky and we don't want to find out."
"I agree," said Hans. "The virus is not gone. Maybe it is gone from here, but you are not from here. So, we must be suspicious. You understand, of course."
"Yes. I don't believe the mutants are contagious. Like you, they were immune to the lethal effects of the virus, but my people in Taiwan said the virus also rewrites DNA. They believe the Chinese were trying to create a new race. A warrior race or a slave race, maybe both. That was another project. The viruses were cross contaminated at the laboratory. Probably the death virus was inadvertently mixed in with the warrior virus. Then, when the warrior virus was tested, they didn't think it was dangerous or so contagious and they didn't control the test."
Masako looked closely at Hans and then Chung. No physical signs of lying. They both made eye contact. Neither was fidgeting, wringing their hands, tapping their fingers or clearing their throats. No obvious signs of nervousness. She was trying to understand what each was about. Was Hans sincere or was he trying to gain her confidence by pretending to fear the same things she did? Was she being too suspicious? Was that even possible? She worried about Hans. She didn't trust anybody, except John. And what about Chung? Why now? How did he really make it through the last six months? Maybe her thyroid problem was making her anxious. Maybe Pierre was giving her the wrong dose. She wasn't sure she was thinking straight. Better to stay quiet. For the time being.
Pierre had been watching Masako. She was definitely nervous. Wringing her hands and rubbing them on her thighs was a strong sign of her thyroid problem. Pierre had removed the thyroid from the boar, cut it into pieces and dried it in the oven. Then he ground it into a powder using two spoons. He also ground a dozen of the remaining thyroid pills and mixed them into the boar thyroid powder. When Abby came to the group, she brought a box of empty capsules. He filled those with the same weight of powder as the pills. George helped him build a small double-pan balance to weigh the portions into consistent doses. He was checking Masako each day by asking her how she felt and by using a thermom
eter under her armpit. That was a crude way of judging the effectiveness of the pills, the way doctors originally determined dosage before a laboratory test was developed, but it was all he had.
Fred sat in the corner, watching everyone. Since Charles had died, he was now the security officer of the group. Charles had never been named that, but he had automatically assumed the role. Fred wondered if Charles worried about things as much as he was worrying now. Two new people in the group were a concern, especially since each was an admitted spy. And a showdown with the government was not far away. Fred had tried to ask Hans about his background, but Hans talked about everything else, with little to say about his own life. He worried that Hans had obtained the maps by some means which would draw the government to them more than if Hans were not here. Finally, he decided that he couldn't do any more inside the lodge and should go outside to check the compound. He and George had installed trip wires and a few other security devices, but nothing was as good as a human. "John, if you folks don't need me, I'll look around outside."
"Sure, go ahead. Be careful."
"I vill go too," said Hans. "I spend too much time inside now. I need some exercise. If Fred does not mind some company."
"Sure, why not," said Fred, thinking he would again try to dig out more information from Hans.
Once outside the lodge, Hans stopped and put his hand on Fred's shoulder. "Fred, I am concerned about this new man, Chung. I do not believe his story. I believe he is spying for the government."
"Why do you say that?" Fred had his own concerns about both Chung, and Hans as well. To hear Hans say he was concerned about Chung was no surprise. It was always a good ploy to avoid suspicion by casting suspicion onto someone else.
"He was a spy. But he was not the spy he says he was. He was a double agent. He was spying for China and being paid by two countries. He was gathering secrets from both sides and selling them to both sides. We have no way to know his true allegiances."
"How do you know that? In this country, we call that being an entrepreneur."
"You joke. You Americans always joke about everything. This is not the time for a joke, Fred. This is the time to save our lives. We need to do something about this Chung. Before it is too late."
"I'll keep watch on him," Fred said, thinking, I'll keep watch on you too, Hans.
* * *
George had been sitting with Iris, not paying too much attention to the conversations. Almost drifting off to sleep. At seeing Fred leave, he sat up straight and said, "I'll go too. Put some more wood into the gasifier. Make sure the power generation is working. It will probably be cool tonight. I'll check the heating system. You want to go with me, Iris."
"Sure hon," she said, standing up and pulling George up by the hand. They walked to the kitchen, hand in hand.
Marceau was in the kitchen, getting things ready for tomorrow's breakfast. "Are you two going out to cuddle on the back porch again," she said, with a raised eyebrow and a smile.
"We're going to do work," George said. "Check the electrical and heating systems. Every night I go out to check and every night you accuse me of being Don Juan."
"And every morning, Iris tells me what a Romeo you are."
George blushed as he opened the back door. "What are you telling her?" George and Iris walked to the metal building which George and Fred had erected behind the barn. They had disassembled two metal garages and reassembled the pieces into a building to house the gasifier electric generator and water stove. The water stove was a water jacket around the gasifier and it recovered lost heat. The water was actually an antifreeze mixture that was circulated to the lodge and cabins.
Once inside the building, Iris said, "It's been far too long, big boy," and pushed George against the wall and kissed him. They continued for a few minutes until George went limp, falling to the ground. Iris jumped back and yelled, "George. What's wrong? Can you hear me?" When he didn't move, she screamed and ran for the door, barely opening it before she passed out in the doorway. A few seconds later, she regained consciousness and took half a dozen deep breaths from the fresh air. She scampered to her feet and ran back inside. She held her breath, dragged George to the door and began giving him CPR. After thirty long seconds, he began to respond.
Fred and Hans heard the scream and came running. Fred took over the CPR as Hans ran for Pierre. When Pierre arrived with John, he told Iris to breathe deeply and then took over from Fred. As soon as George was able to breath on his own, Pierre said, "Deep breaths, George. Keep it up. We want all that carbon monoxide out of you. It will stay in your blood for a long time unless you keep breathing deeply." Looking at Iris, he said. "What happened?" George started to speak, but Pierre put his hand to George's mouth and repeated, "Deep breaths, mon amie. You must recover from this. It will be difficult."
"I don't know, Pierre. Some kind of carbon monoxide leak, perhaps. You guys were always talking about carbon monoxide and making sure everything was leak tight. After he passed out, I remembered what you all said and dragged him out. I didn't think I was that strong."
"In such times, we show our real strength, mon petit."
John tapped Fred's shoulder and tilted his head. They stepped away from the group.
"I thought I knew how this worked," John said softly to avoid the others hearing. "It always runs under a slight vacuum. Any leaks should be air leaking into the system and not gases leaking out of it. The only way the combustor would leak is if the engine shutdown. That would cause a blip in the power. I didn't see a blip, did you?"
"No, but I was outside."
"I'm going in to open the windows. I won't breathe while I'm in there. If anything happens, drag me out." John took three deep lungsful and ran into the building and over to the closest window. He flipped the catches on the side and pushed the window up. He stuck his finger into his mouth, wet it and put it into the window. The breeze was in and not out. He put his head out the window and filled his lungs three more times. The next window was the same, but the breeze was out. He went back to the first window and took another three deep breaths. He popped open the third window and ran back to the door.
"You alright, John?"
"Yeah, Fred. I did notice the second gasifier drum was hot. It was covered and probably produced the fumes. I thought we kept the one not being used under vacuum. The valve was closed. Our procedure says to open the windows when changing combustors and leave the valve open. Then put in the wood, keeping the lid on as much as possible. When it's all over, we close the windows. Who was the last person to refill the combustion chamber?"
"George filled it this morning. It was due to be filled before going to bed. That's why he was out here. You think someone came in, lit the fire and closed the valve?"
"Someone, meaning Hans? Maybe George was watching Iris more than his job and made a mistake."
"That would be a dangerous mistake. I've taken over the job of security. I must consider every possibility."
"Keep it up. Don't forget, the time to be most worried is the time we think we have the least to worry about."
After an hour, Pierre thought George had recovered enough to move, but insisted he stay on the front porch and not move around. Pierre gave George and Iris pills to reduce the pain of their headaches. He instructed Marceau to give George a blanket to keep him warm on the cool night. After he left George, Pierre went inside the lodge and motioned to Fred and John. They followed Pierre into the office where he closed the door.
"Must be serious, Pierre."
"It is serious, mon amie. George was exposed to a high level of carbon monoxide. I hope it was only for a few minutes, because it is common to sustain brain damage with long exposure. We must watch him carefully. Perhaps he is fine, perhaps not. We should not leave him alone for several days. We must make sure he is himself before we trust him again."
"Do you believe he is now susceptible to the virus? Like Cho?" John remembered how Cho died after inhaling smoke, which also contained carbon monoxide. "Cho went
into the smoke to collect the cow for the group -- for me. To provide meat for dinner. She knew how much I liked beef and she knew how long it had been since we had any. She wasn't in the smoke more than five minutes. She was so happy. I was happy. Then she started coughing. She never stopped and she never recovered." John stopped talking and looked down at the ground. The thought of George not surviving brought back the painful and vivid memories of those last few days with Cho, as she slowly slipped away. "You think it was the carbon monoxide that killed her?"
"It was part, mon amie. The smoke damaged her lungs and allowed the virus to attack her. I worry that we know only little about the effects of this horrible virus. I fear that with this poison and with this virus …" Pierre stopped talking to collect his thoughts. However, he was too choked up to continue. He looked at John with glossy eyes and John stared back with glossy eyes.
"You know how important he is to us. Perhaps to the whole world. He's not only a great friend, but the master of our technology. The master of our future. Without him, our future will be much less bright."
"Oui. I understand. I will do everything I can. You can trust me."
Chapter 69 - Here Piggy, Piggy
For the next two days, Iris made sure that George was always accompanied. When she could not be with George, Masako stepped in with Little John. George and Little John seemed to be bonding. On the following morning, the rain was pouring down as Pierre walked into the kitchen with Marceau.
"Jean, you are up early. Are you well?"
"Yes, Pierre, I couldn't sleep. How are you, and you Marceau?"
"We are fine." Her tone of voice implied that she was not fine and her stone cold stare at Pierre suggested she was not happy with him.
"What's wrong?"
"What is wrong? What is not wrong? He comes to bed late and when he does come to bed, he only tosses himself all night. So, I cannot sleep. I tell him to take a pill or a drink and he refuses. He upsets me, so much."
The Weak Shall Die: Complete Collection (Four Volume Set) Page 70
