by Franks, JK
Tahir automatically thought of Skybox, the gene certainly seemed active in him. “If we could manipulate that gene, crank it up, you could create super soldiers.”
“Precisely, and that is what I think is happening. You put us on the right path, Tahir, focusing on the Archaea instead of the virus.”
DJ was finally catching up, ”So, someone wasn’t working on a bio-weapon so much as a tool to force genetic manipulation into a wide-spread population.”
“Forced evolution,” she said.
“But for what end?” Tahir asked. “The mutations are not helpful, they aren’t making people stronger, better, faster. They are mostly making people dead.”
“I’m not so sure about that, I think we are focusing on the dead and infected because, well, they scare the shit out of us. How would we spot someone with more beneficial mutations?”
“Like Skybox,” DJ said.
She nodded, “Yes. Just like Sky.”
Chapter Fifty-Three
“We have to announce it soon?” he said feeling her belly. The little pooch of her abdomen was just barely noticeable but definitely getting larger. They’d been discussing wedding plans for weeks balancing them with everything else going on. Angel and Kaylie had taken a more active role in planning the event. Lots of people were still out searching for the missing girl, but momentum seemed to be building for the wedding date to be set.
“Bobby already knows,” she blurted.
“Seriously?”
“Yeah, Skybox, too. I was sick, well, you made me sick. You know, when you went off to be stupid. Anyway…”
He smiled, neither had mentioned it. “Well then, maybe we should just tell everyone.”
She grinned and clapped, “Oh, thank God. I am about to bust to tell people.”
He gathered she was far enough along not to be worried anymore. He was clueless on all this, but he was over the moon excited. He was going to be a dad. How could something I didn’t even know I wanted suddenly mean so much?
“Should we try and reach any of your family?” he asked tentatively. “Maybe Commander Garret or Skybox could get a message to them.”
A shadow crossed her face briefly before the smile returned. He’d asked her once before, and she admitted not knowing whether her family had made it. He’d met her family once at Gia’s first wedding. Her father struck Scott as a brooder with little personality. He was aware of some of the phone calls between Gia and her parents leading up to that day. The relationship had been strained prior to the nuptials, but they had made an appearance. He recalled her father trying to force her to accept a check, and she refused. The man had later given it to Scott to pass along to his daughter. When he reluctantly did, she just tore it up without even looking at it.
“No, Scott. It’s time to move on.”
He cocked his head studying her. What pain was his future wife carrying? Surely, they were proud of her. She was brilliant, and how could they not be proud of who she had become? Finally, it hit him. They were within one of the infection zones. Even if they were still alive, they likely couldn’t get out, nor would she want them to travel here—possibly bringing the virus with them. If she was close to a cure, though, that might change things. He was about to make another comment when he saw the tears.
Damn, I have to get better at this…
Bartos and Chief Petty Officer Warburgh were getting nowhere fast. The GTO that Bartos used for most trips sat on the side of the road with the hood up. The Navy man watched as Bartos removed clamps and hoses to reveal a small white plastic cylinder.
“Bad fuel?” Warburgh said.
“Yep, just like we thought. That shit’s starting to disintegrate in the tanks. This filter is all gummed up. I can make it work by bypassing it. We have another one in-line. We’ve equipped all the cars with extras, but that’s not going to help for long. We need fresh gas soon, or we’ll be back to horse and buggies.”
“Yeah, Navy is facing the same issues. No fuel, except the nuclear boats, but they’re running out of food and sailors. I hear you been working on a possible fix?” the man said questioningly.
“For diesel, yeah. Some of your guys and mine are doing final assembly now. With my bad knee, I’m not a lot of help right now. Thought I might be more useful helping you today.”
“Glad you did,” Warburgh said. “Otherwise, I would probably be stranded out here.”
He and Bartos got back on the road in a few minutes. Despite Bartos’ lingering issues from the concussion and injuries, his mechanic skills were still on-point. Still, he was a bit uncomfortable around the Navy man. Perhaps it was the sidearm he kept strapped to his waist, more likely just the man’s demeanor. Even sitting beside him in the old car, Warburgh was ramrod straight. An unmoving and inflexible officer.
The Navy investigator was already reviewing notes from the earlier days of the investigation. “So, the girl was last seen leaving the AG to go to the farm. That was around six AM last Friday. We have heard that she never arrived. What else do we know about her?”
Bartos watched the road pass by as he thought about the girl. “She’s cute, in sort of a tom-boyish way. Seems popular, lots of friends. Angel says she is the one who organizes the birthday party each month for all of the kids with birthdays that month.”
“Sounds like a sweet girl,” Warburgh said with what sounded like genuine empathy. “Bartos, what are you thinking, she got lost, accident, foul-play or did she just give up?”
He knew what he meant, in the years since the CME, life had gotten so tough. So much of the old world, the easy world, was gone—some people just couldn’t handle it. Eventually, the sadness and emptiness caught up and consumed them. He shook his head, “Diana seemed to have it together. She lost her parents, yeah. Her mom got sick and passed away during that first winter. The father, well, he mostly drank himself to death afterward. The girl, though…she seems tough. I don’t know her all that well, but she has a good reputation. Now, with electricity on at the AG, decent food…” He sighed, “I got a bad feeling.”
The two men exited the car to go and speak with the current caretaker of the old farm. Two goats came up nipping at Bartos’ pockets looking for a treat. Smiling, he pulled several fingerling carrots out, giving two to each. Despite his disdain for people, Bartos had a love for all animals, even the ones he would one day likely kill and eat.
They spent several hours talking to everyone who worked with Diana. The farmers from Yokena all came by to shake Bartos’ hand reverently. The acknowledgment of what he’d done for them was simple and sincere. Both men examined the workspace Diana used. They went over every conversation anyone might have had with her. Who was she seeing? Had she been upset lately? Had her work been slacking? Warburgh kept taking notes, but Bartos didn’t hear anything particularly noteworthy. This was something else, something new, something dangerous. He felt it down deep. Diana was gone, she wouldn’t be coming back.
Chapter Fifty-Four
Kaylie and Gia had set up an unusual exam room for an unusual patient. Tommy, aka the Ghost, sat on the bank of the small bay. Skybox and Roosevelt were there as well. Few people managed to get this close to the former Spec Op soldier with the ugly head wound. Scott and Kaylie had been the first ones to see him when he arrived in town just after the CME. Tommy couldn’t talk, but Skybox seemed to be able to read something in his long-time friend’s eye movements and expressions.
Today seemed to be a good day, Tommy was calm. Not every day was like this. In the clinics where he lived after the IED blast, he was in a mostly vegetative state, no one gave him any chance of even partial recovery. But here in Harris Springs, Skybox found his friend walking, surviving, fighting even. Something had definitely changed, and Skybox had asked Gia and Kaylie to see if they could determine what. Unfortunately, Tommy had an adverse reaction to enclosed places, so the exam room was here, outside.
Roosevelt was patting Tommy’s arm and talking soothingly to him while Gia checked his pupil dilation. One
eye was fixed while the other was dilated. Kaylie was checking reflexes which alternated between non-responsive to off the charts speed. They even managed to hook him briefly into a portable EKG to read brain wave patterns. The exam took most of an hour and included drawing several vials of blood which the man seemed not to even notice. Toward the end, though, he was growing visibly frustrated and wanted to leave. Gia patted him on the back and suggested they let him go for today.
Skybox watched his friend quietly walk away and slip out of sight. He smiled as that had been a trick Tommy had been perfecting all his life. “So, Doc, any ideas what is going on with my friend?”
Gia didn’t respond immediately. Skybox knew that Tommy had apparently also been a passenger in the helicopter crash that killed Gia’s husband and child. She started slowly, “Sky, I’m so out of my field here, anything I say will be very likely wrong. Most of his medical history is based on what you told us. There are some things which I believe are clues, though.” Her face darkened with concern. “Your friend is a walking contradiction.”
“How do you mean?” Skybox said.
“Well, for one thing, he shouldn’t be alive—not with that much brain matter missing. That shrapnel basically lobotomized Tommy. In some cases, we know the brain can essentially rewire itself after trauma. So, other parts take over the job for missing or damaged areas. This is in the very basic areas―higher function areas have not been repaired. You see how clumsily he walks, how his body trembles when it is at rest?”
Roosevelt spoke up, “But he can move like a shadow, and when he fights, it’s like watching a ballet or something, sho nuff is.”
Gia nodded, “That is a very good point, I would imagine that certain things for him that formerly were in the technical or analytical parts of his mind are now governed by the creative regions that were less damaged. His fighting ability could be one of these things. Some head trauma patients have been known to develop brand new skills such as being able to paint or play music for the first time in their lives. Several have become savants in fact. The quality of their new talent rising far above even the most gifted.”
“Why is he improving now? Will he continue to get better?”
“I can’t answer that, Sky. I need to go over our tests more, but my best guess is no. He physically has a limit as to how much he can recover. Too much has been removed for him to ever be whole. So much of the left hemisphere of his cerebrum is gone, I don’t know how he functions even.” She finished packing away her equipment in the leather bag.
Snapping the metal latches, she stopped and locked eyes with the warrior. “Skybox, let me give it to you straight. They kept Tommy heavily medicated in those facilities…to the point his brain was unable to do much in the way of recovery. That is what changed, he is no longer on any medication.”
“He was medicated for the pain. I mean, that is what they told me. Was that a lie?”
“No, no…I don’t think so. My guess is that would be pretty standard for someone in that condition. The amount of swelling in the brain, the horrible burns, other injuries. It had to be excruciating. Pain levels to the point that would overwhelm a person’s nervous system. Untreated, he probably would have died.”
Skybox turned and began walking back to the ship with the three others. “But he is past that, doesn’t seem to need the pain meds anymore, right?”
“Sky, listen. When you hold onto that man you feel your friend. You want…maybe even need him to still be in there. Maybe a small part of him is, but when I held his hand, I felt a body trembling in pain and fear. Tommy is in agony all of the time. He has simply learned to control or channel the pain somehow. Who knows how long he can do this or what happens when the pain gets to be too much.”
Skybox went silent, his hopes for his friend fading fast. “So, that’s it? We need to medicate him again?”
“I’m not saying that, although it may be the most humane choice. The human body is an amazing machine. We are capable of so much that we don’t fully understand that anything could happen. I don’t think he will make any significant improvements, but I would guess his former doctors would be impressed with how far he has come. My guess is that he doesn’t sleep, not well at least. He looked exhausted, and Roosevelt has said he lives like an animal most of the time. Perhaps if we gave him just a mild sedative, something that would at least allow him to sleep well several times a week. That might be enough relief for him to maintain some balance.”
Skybox nodded reluctantly.
Roosevelt mumbled under his breath, “Not an animal, I said he was a predator.”
Chapter Fifty-Five
Unknown Location
The young woman’s hair was matted, caked with blood and hung in front of her face. Eyes kept watching, kept darting back and forth like a caged animal. The smell of piss and shit tainted the already fetid air, but even that did not cover up the other smell. Something darker, something hidden, something dead. She was afraid, yes, but beyond that, she was certain. She fully knew this would be her last night on Earth. Her last time in this body. So, as foul as the air was, she breathed it in gratefully because it was life, and each breath could be her last.
The footsteps came again. She had known they would; again, her eyes peered into the shadows of her prison. She tried to force them to see into the darkness. A shape, a figure…something. Someone. The terror she felt could no longer be contained. The breath she savored now burned inside her lungs, it needed to be released. Slowly, silently, she exhaled. The need to hide from her captors trumped all other thoughts, but that was just crazy. They knew where she would be, they had chained her to the wall. They were watching her now, a cat eyeing the mouse just before it pounced. If she listened close, she would be able to hear them, a breath, a heartbeat…maybe just a tiny sound as they parted their lips or swallowed. Her ears were no more helpful than the eyes. Why were they doing this? What did they want?
The pounding in her head was back. Why wouldn’t it stop? Something, something in her mind was pulling at her. How long had she been here? She no longer had any idea. The days and nights all ran together in her rapidly fracturing mind. This is not me, this is not how I end. Her determination could not keep her alive any more than it could keep her sane. Fight back, fight!
She needed water, her mouth was dry. Maybe that would help the headaches. What was happening to her? Where were they? She looked at her wrist; she felt the irritation where the shackles had rubbed the skin away. In the dark, her fingers rubbed across the rough, chaffed skin and then the smooth bloody grooves. They did not touch the shackles though, those seemed to be missing this time.
There! It was a breath, perhaps half a breath. It could have been just the scrape of a shoe. Someone, though, someone was there, watching her. Waiting for her to die. She made up her mind, the steely determination that had caused so many problems in her life rose up again. If they came again, she would kill them. How? She was chained to a wall. She had no weapons, nothing to fight back with. If she had any chance, she should have done this when she first got here. She’d been strong then, she could have taken them. Had she only realized what they were going to do to her, she would have fought. Only…she hadn’t realized she was strong. Instead, she was suffering, she felt like a victim. She wanted pity.
Chapter Fifty-Six
Harris Springs, Mississippi
Scott watched as Skybox and Ghost sparred with the wooden staffs. Jack was back and going through some of the stick fighting techniques he’d picked up over the years. His fighting discipline was called Keyshi, a somewhat offbeat and brutal form of martial arts. Scott smiled remembering it was Jack’s training that he had used on Skybox when they fought on the oil platform. So much had changed, enemies became allies.
The fact that the other man was engaged was even more amazing. Tommy, or Ghost, as most still called him, still couldn’t talk, moved little, never sat as far as anyone knew, but he was training, fighting. interacting with purpose, anticipating moves, feinting
blows and picking up the new instructions with ease. Roosevelt was right, the man moved like fluid. He didn’t step as much as flowed to a new position. It was artistry, a dance, and it came from inside an empty shell of a man. As soon as the sparring stopped, he returned to an upright position, eyes unfocused on the horizon. What is going on inside that man? Scott thought.
The buzzing of a drone in the distance reminded him of what he was doing out here. Rollins was repositioning them over another part of the canal and parts of the old town looking for any sign of Diana. The girl had been missing for nearly two weeks now. Most assumed she had just left, but Bartos had convinced Scott to keep the search going.
Bobby and Kaylie came up, Jacob not far behind. “Are we ready?”
They had volunteered to search a section of the search grid. Everyone in the community had been out searching at some point. Scott didn’t think anyone would find her, he still felt that she had just left, but she’d been Kaylie’s friend. The relatively good mood unfolded itself and disappeared as the report from Rollins came over the radio. Kaylie muttered, “Oh, shit,” and began to run.
Warburgh beat everyone else to the location spotted on the drones. Kaylie’s hand covered her mouth as she saw the pale human arm extending from the pile of trees and debris along the Intracoastal Waterway. Her dad wrapped an arm around her shoulder as they watched from a distance. “Honey, it may not be her. Don’t think the worst.”
Scott went closer to help. The hurricane and flood earlier in the year had created massive debris piles at several points along the canal. This area was one of the worst. Others assisted as well; Warburgh was tossed a rope someone had tied off to a thick tree. He saw Todd in the growing crowd, “You think it’s her, Cap?”
