by A. R. Shaw
Harding leaned back in his chair, then sat up again. “You’re telling me you developed a vaccine for this virus?”
Clarisse nodded.
“It’s efficient, it produces antibodies?”
She nodded again.
Harding digested this new information. He couldn’t believe their luck. He ran a hand through his hair and then frowned suddenly. “Wait— that does us no good. You only have around twenty vials of the vaccine, and we have over three hundred and fifty people here.” He sat back, looking devastated; he’d been too quick to dream of a resolution, and was now visibly drained.
Clarisse was about to broaden his horizons. “That’s not a problem. I can make more.”
He looked at her skeptically. “How do I know that what you say is the truth?”
She couldn’t think of a thing to convince him. “You don’t. You might just have to trust me on this.”
“Have you used the vaccine on your people?”
“Yes.”
“Did any of them die as a result?”
“No.”
Harding paused a moment to think.
“Have you ever knowingly infected anyone?”
“You’re reaching now. If you let us go, I’ll create enough vaccine for your people.”
“Answer the question.”
“Of course not. I’m a doctor. I took an oath. We’re not evil, but you’re putting yourself—and us—in danger by keeping us locked up like this. There are things going on out there that you don’t know about.”
“Tell me.”
“No. Let my people go, and then we’ll talk. Keep us prisoner and someone else could expose you. Or worse, someone may come and overrun this place.”
Tap, tap, tap . . .
“I don’t have the final say,” Harding finally answered. “I’ll talk to my boss.”
Clarisse began to rise from the chair. “Keep those refrigerated if you want any hope at all. This meeting is over.” She walked to the door again and patiently waited for the guard to open it.
Chapter 19 Not Hopeful
“I’m telling you, Ed. She can do it,” Harding said.
Ed Gordon had turned away to face the window a few minutes ago when he knew the argument was failing. In the process, he’d blocked Harding out.
“This isn’t living, Ed. These people of ours, they are as much prisoners as the folks we have locked up out there. As you yourself have pointed out, the birthrate is at zero. There are no marriages. The last three deaths we’ve had have all been suicides, and they were all just this month; they’re killing themselves rather than live through this. Next winter more and more will die. We’re living like zombies, Ed. If, we can become vaccinated, we can at least become immune to the virus. We need to give our people hope and then get out there and see what’s happening to our world, try to start over again. And the same for these people we have in lockup.”
Convincing Ed was no use; he’d shut down, wouldn’t respond. The man was sick, and it was about time he recognized that about himself. Ed would rather keep these people locked up, to die slowly, than to heal them.
With boiling rage, Harding brushed his hair back into place, picked up his papers, and tried to lower his tone to one of civility. “You’re incompetent, Ed. This”—he gestured around the room—“this is some sort of sick denial. We have a chance to beat this thing, and I can’t let you euthanize these people because you’re uncomfortable with the outside world. I’m letting them go. I’m going to let Dr. Smarting create the vaccine for us—even help her if I can. And after that I’m letting them go on their way. You can stay here if you’d like, stay in this room, alone, for all I care. But the rest of us need space, maybe freedom if it’s out there.” He left Gordon’s office, and for the first time he didn’t close the door behind him as he’d been trained to do.
~ ~ ~
An hour later, Harding had closed up his office for the night and just stepped outside the building when he heard a gunshot. He dived to the road, landing hard, and the gravel tore at his flesh. His papers flew into the air around him, then drifted like graceful birds to the ground. Guards were running everywhere. Have the prisoners escaped?
“Sir!”
Harding pushed himself to his knees. “What? What happened?”
“The major, sir. Self-inflicted,” the guards said.
A wave of nausea hit him. “Ed’s dead?”
“Yes, sir,” the guard said. “Completely.”
“You’re in charge now, sir. What should we do?”
He gathered his papers, attempting to tap them into a neat pile on the gravel road. “Was there a note? I just left him a little while ago.”
“No, sir. No note.”
The guard’s radio broke the silence. “Orders? Over.”
“Um . . . get him cleaned up,” Harding commanded. “Have a grave dug. I’ll make an announcement soon.” He avoided eye contact with the guard. I did this. I pushed Ed too far.
Harding walked back to his office. Several other guards rushed past him, gravel crunching under their boots as they ran and the spent petals of tree blossoms drifted toward the ground. Part of him felt released; the other part felt responsible.
Chapter 20 A Solution
“Look, it’s been two days since we heard the shot. We don’t know what the hell is going on,” McCann complained.
“They brought us food, at least,” Graham said.
“But they won’t answer our questions. They won’t even tell us if the girls are okay.” McCann paced the floor for what seemed like the millionth time, and Graham was having an increasingly difficult time getting him to remain calm. He was scared too—hell, they all were. But there was nothing to gain by causing problems.
“We watched Clarisse return. She was fine. She wasn’t upset. Then we heard a single shot later that afternoon,” Graham said. “That doesn’t mean anything bad. It could have been a deer, for all we know.”
“Then we saw a lot of running. That was a lot of excitement for a deer. Or they could have put one of the dogs down,” McCann said, stopping in his tracks.
“Still, there’s nothing we can do about it right now.” Graham reasoned.
They were so focused on their argument that they barely heard the lock trip and the door open.
“Hello, gentlemen. We would like you two to come with us. The lieutenant would like to speak with you.”
“Let us go!” McCann yelled, and Sam jumped up and pushed McCann backward to keep him from charging the guards.
“McCann, stop!” Graham said. “You’re not helping!”
“They can’t just keep us here!” McCann yelled.
Surprisingly, one of the guards held up one of his hands and said, “It won’t be for much longer.”
“What is that supposed to mean?” McCann said.
The other guard looked at his comrade and shook his head without saying anything more. “Look, I’ve said too much. Please come with us.”
Graham was up, and as Dalton stood slowly, he brushed his hands on the back of his pants to wipe off the damp gravel. Coughing as if to emphasize his point, he said, “We’re all getting sick in this damp cell you’ve got us in.”
Neither guard commented as they were led out. The bright afternoon sun burned their eyes. Graham had started to notice that Dalton appeared to be declining; he wasn’t yet healed from the bear attack or their scrap with the invaders. The cold damp room they were kept in caused them all to shiver at night and even huddling together didn’t keep their hands and feet from going almost numb with cold.
Something has to happen—today, Graham thought.
When they entered the room, the one thing they hadn’t thought to expect was Clarisse standing there. And she looked as shocked as they did.
Clarisse started toward Dalton, but he shook his head subtly. It wasn’t a good idea to show them who your loved ones were; information like that could be used against you.
“Didn’t expect to see you here, Dr. Smar
ting,” Dalton said, trying to sound formal, and Graham looked around to see who he was addressing before it came to him that it was Clarisse. He didn’t recall having ever heard her last name before now. Graham caught on that they were probably being watched, and soon the door opened on the other side of the glass window and Lieutenant Harding entered.
“Hello, folks. Sorry I’m late. I thought we could talk a little about our situation here. Please have a seat.” He gestured toward three chairs on their side of the glass, and the three sat.
Harding cleared his throat. “Our situation has changed here. I needn’t go into the details, but we’re willing to let you go—if Dr. Smarting can develop enough vaccine for the people of Hope.”
“You’ll release us while she’s developing the vaccine?” Dalton asked.
“No. That’s too dangerous. I’ll release the women and children while she’s developing the vaccine. I’ll hold the rest of you until she’s completed her work and then you’ll be set free. Deal?”
“You bastard! No deal,” Clarisse said. “You’ll release all of us. We can’t trust you. You’ve imprisoned us against our will, and we have not committed any crime against you.” Graham had never seen Clarisse this pissed off, but she had a good point.
“Wait,” Dalton called out for calm. “You want the vaccine, but you want to hold onto something to ensure that Clar . . . Dr. Smarting completes her end of the bargain?”
“That’s about right, yeah,” Harding answered.
Dalton leaned forward and pointed at the glass. “That’s pretty evil of you guys. We’d be willing to share the vaccine with you, but this kind of treatment tells us quite a bit about your nature. There’s a lot you don’t know about what’s going on out in the real world, and you need to get a grip. You’re not safe here in your little hidey-hole. Not for long, anyway. We came here to get away from danger, and once we figure out how to fight it, we’re going back. This is just temporary. Now, you can treat us like prisoners, but let me tell you something: you need us. We should be allies, not enemies.”
Harding ignored Dalton’s warning. “We’ve set up housing right outside of town for you. The women and children will be set free. The men can move into what is presently the women’s prison; it has heating, and you’ll find the accommodations are far better than in your current setup. As for this danger you keep alluding to, you need to get to the point. We are not defenseless here, sir, and I don’t know what gave you that impression. Despite your ammunition and expertise, we took you down quite easily, did we not?”
“You took a tired group by surprise. Congratulations.” Dalton conceded.
“What about Mark and McCann?” Graham asked. He hadn’t spoken yet, but wanted to find out who Harding considered children, and whether he could get the two young men free.
“The women will need hunters to bring in food,” said Graham. “I have two boys in the men’s prison that should go with them.” He was lying in hopes that Harding would believe McCann was eighteen.
“How old are they?”
“One is seventeen; the other is eighteen.”
He wrote something down on a piece of paper. “Anyone under the age of eighteen can go—but not that young man who gave my guards hell, regardless of his age. He stays with you, and the doctor here stays with us.”
“No, that’s not possible,” protested Clarisse. “We have a pregnant woman with us, and I need to monitor her. I’ll reside with the women and children and come to the lab every day on my own. I won’t try to escape—you have my word. I wouldn’t leave without the rest of the group anyway.”
Harding stopped writing and looked up at her. “You won’t try to escape?” he asked.
Clarisse shook her head. “As long as the prisoners are treated fairly. They need food and water, and they need humane treatment. I also want the right to visit with them once a day.” She was pushing it—asking for more than she guessed Harding would allow.
“No. You can see them once a week to monitor their condition and give them updates on your progress. No more than that. Are we clear?”
“Can you and I discuss this in private?”
“Look, you’re getting to set half your party free in exchange for the development of the vaccine. When the vaccine is viable, the rest of you may go.”
“You’re still ignoring the greater threat here,” Graham said.
“Sir, at the moment I have individuals in my midst who could bring death to my door. At the same time, they have the power to save every citizen here. I’m bargaining with them, I’m feeding them, and I think that’s pretty reasonable. At the moment you are both my biggest threat and my greatest hope.
“I suspect the problem you are alluding to is political in nature. Your country has finally taken advantage of a good tragedy. Never let a good tragedy go to waste? Who was it that said that? The conservative against the liberal factions, and they are both fighting over what’s left of your country. A civil war? We’ve heard about the same dilemma in our own. That’s why we shut off all communications from the outside, because in the end it doesn’t matter. It astounds me how politics is the ruination of mankind.”
“That’s not it. You’re wrong,” Dalton said.
“It’s actually much worse,” Graham added.
“If it is, then stop playing games and tell me what it is. What do I have to be so worried about now that most of humanity is dead? What more could happen?”
“The virus . . . wasn’t caused by the Chinese. It only began there,” Clarisse interjected.
“What?”
“It was Islamic terrorists. Jihadists,” Dalton answered. “They caused this and they’re here now; on this continent. Only a few hours away, in fact.”
All color drained from Harding’s face, and he took up his pencil again.
Tap, tap, tap . . .
Chapter 21 A Visit
“How are the boys?” Dalton asked. This was the longest he’d gone without seeing them since being deployed many years ago in that giant sandbox built called the Middle East.
“They’re fine. They miss you, but I keep reassuring them that we’ll all be together soon. Kade’s threatening to break you out of prison,” she said with a smile.
He loved that smile. He didn’t like the dark circles under her eyes—she’d been working too many hours, night and day—but the smile was good. Dalton pictured little Kade springing them from jail and thought about how much he missed his sons. “How much longer do you think until you have enough of the vaccine developed?”
Clarisse looked behind her at the guard. “Could you give us some privacy?”
“Sorry, ma’am. My orders are to witness all communications between you and the prisoners.”
She shook her head. “I had a feeling you were going to say that. The vaccine development is coming along fine. Luckily, they kept all of my equipment intact. Their lab isn’t as good as mine was, but I’m managing.” She brightened at imparting the next bit of information. “And they kept the horses and chickens; we have them now, and they’re doing fine. Macy insisted on taking over the horses. Unfortunately, the dogs ran off during the big kerfuffle, and no one has seen them since.”
“So we don’t know if Sheriff was shot?” Graham asked.
“I’ve asked about that. The guard who fired said he didn’t know. He couldn’t guess if Sheriff caught the shot or not, only that he ran off into the woods.”
“And how’s Tala?” Graham asked.
“She’s great. She”—Clarisse whispered so that the guard couldn’t hear her words—“she sends her love.”
Graham nodded. “It’s been two weeks. I’m afraid she’s going to have the baby without me there.”
“She’s got another three weeks or so to go, I think. I’ll be done before then, and you’ll be there.”
“Time’s up!” the guard announced.
Dalton knew it wasn’t wise, but he couldn’t help himself—he reached for Clarisse’s hand and held her. “Please hurry, if you
can.”
“I’m trying. We’re almost there, and . . . I have the beginning of an idea.” She looked him in the eye and became very serious. “It’s a dreadful solution, but it is a solution,” Clarisse said quietly.
The guard walked her way and reached for her arm.
“Sorry. Time to go, eh?” the guard said.
“Tell me about it the next time you visit,” Dalton said and pressed a kiss into the back of her hand before the guard took her away.
~ ~ ~
“What was she talking about?” Graham asked Dalton after Clarisse and the guard had left.
“I think she mean’s she’s figured out how to defeat the terrorists. That means either she’s found equipment here that we might be able to fight with, or . . . she said dreadful. It means she has a way to exterminate them. Your guess is as good as mine, but if she said it, it’s for real.”
Just then Rick strolled out of the steamy bathroom. “Man, it’s nice to have a hot shower. Did Clarisse leave? What’d I miss?”
Neither Dalton nor Graham answered, so McCann chimed in. “We’re getting out of here in another two weeks, and Clarisse has a plan to kill the terrorists. Oh, and Macy is fine. She’s taking care of the horses and chickens.”
“Said the King of Summary,” Graham added.
“Seriously? That’s good news!” said Rick.
“Looks that way,” Dalton added, “but we have no idea what she has in mind yet, so don’t get your hopes up. Clarisse only said she has the beginning of an idea,”
“Are we expecting a visit from the lieutenant today?” Rick asked.
“I don’t know, Rick. I haven’t checked our busy agenda for the day.”
“Aw, don’t get all pissy on me, Dalton,” Rick said and pointed at him while explaining to Graham, “he doesn’t do captivity very well.”
Dalton tried to hide his grin.
