The Malefic Nation (Graham's Resolution Book 4)

by A. R. Shaw

  “It’s a problem,” Harding said to Clarisse, Dalton, and Graham, who were seated in his office.

  “It’s not a problem,” said Clarisse. We can keep them in quarantine and then try to get as much information out of them as possible.”

  “They’re too close to us,” Dalton warned.

  “That’s right, Dalton. They’re too close now that you’ve brought them here,” Graham said, feigning anger. “I have a wife and unborn child to protect, dammit!”

  “I agree with Graham,” Harding said. “I don’t see how we can gain any knowledge just having them here without the risk of exposure and leaving a trail for others to follow.”

  “This is an opportunity to learn from them. We have three of them. I can run some tests to see how they’re immune to the virus. They must have developed their own vaccine,” Clarisse implored.

  “At the same time, I can try to get as much information about their plans and hopefully we can stay ahead of them instead of waiting here like sitting ducks,” Dalton added.

  “I can see how that’s appealing,” said Harding as he leaned back in his chair, thinking. “But let’s consider the risks. My people are still vulnerable. Graham’s child will be born any day now, and that makes you vulnerable as well.

  “We can maintain them in the quarantine buildings,” Dalton offered. My people will care for them so there’s no exposure to the citizens of Hope. We can do this. We have the skills and expertise.”

  “I won’t allow any torture techniques,” Harding said, suddenly sitting up in his chair and grabbing his pencil. Graham could tell he was considering their proposal.

  “Just so we’re clear, how do you define torture here?” Dalton asked.

  “No waterboarding. No pain infliction of any kind. No starvation. Nothing inhumane.”

  Dalton shook his head. “Do you even know what waterboarding entails?”

  “Yes, of course I do, and I won’t relent on this, Dalton.”

  “It doesn’t matter what they’ve done, their inhumane treatment of our people? You still insist they be treated like humans?” Dalton asked.

  “I do. No matter what they’ve done. I insist they be treated like humans because we’re humane. If we lose that, we’re no better than they are.”

  That statement drove home to Graham that their decision to keep their real plans a secret was a good one. Had they come out with their true intentions, they’d have had no hope at all.

  Tap, tap, tap . . . Harding’s pencil eraser against the desk filled the silence. Both men were thinking, but one was played in the other’s hand unwittingly.

  “Deal,” Dalton said with reluctance.

  Now it was Graham’s turn to once again act out of step with the others. “What? How can you guarantee they won’t expose everyone, including Tala and the baby? Clarisse will have to bring Tala into the medical facilities when she goes into labor.”

  “No, I can set up shop in the house. I’ll bring all the equipment there. Tala will have no need to return to the medical building,” she said.

  Harding looked at him with a sympathetic expression. “I understand your concern, Graham, but I have faith in Clarisse’s abilities. I’m sure she’ll take all the necessary precautions.”

  Something had just transpired without words between Dalton and Graham. Dalton couldn’t really put his finger on it, but having Harding defend Clarisse with praise put him on edge suddenly. He cleared his throat loudly.

  “Yeah, well. We, all know how capable Clarisse is. That’s not a problem,” Dalton said. Graham saw Clarisse nudge Dalton in the leg with her boot, but Harding missed it.

  “Yes. Problem solved then, right?” Harding spoke in a tone that indicated the issue was resolved, and all rose from their seats.

  “Let’s hope we don’t regret this,” Graham said as he shook hands with Harding and the others.

  Once they left the building Graham let the other two walk ahead of him while he strolled back with his hands in his pockets and head dropped in thought. He supposed he’d put on a good act, but to some degree he truly was worried about the effects of their plan—not only on his child but on them all. Part of him wanted to take his group farther north and forget all of this. Though he hadn’t talked about it with anyone, he was sure McCann would do it. He didn’t want to split up the group, but with this coming conflict, fleeing north was tempting, and he decided to keep the possibility open. It would certainly mean their survival in the short term, but for how long could they outrun the terrorists? Would there ever be a future for their children if they didn’t take a stand now? And if they didn’t stand up, who would?

  Chapter 30 Interrogation

  “Allahu Akbar!” the young terrorist yelled at Rick while nearly foaming at the mouth after an extensive one sided questioning session.

  “Yeah? Back at ya, jerk,” Rick said as he got up and left in disgust from the interrogation room.

  Dalton had insisted that they be maintained in separate holding cells, and while they were still unconscious, Clarisse had withdrawn several vials of blood from each candidate to begin her testing.

  Rick washed his hands in the quarantine partition before leaving the room under guard supervision.

  “You guys should keep your distance from here,” Rick warned them.

  “We’re under orders to make sure you don’t torture the captives,” the guard said.

  Rick faced him squarely. He couldn’t believe this was still an issue. “Look, that’s not going to happen. We gave our word. You can put up cameras if you’d like. Hell, I’ll set them up for you. I simply don’t want you exposed to them. I don’t want there to be any more deaths from this damn virus. Don’t you get that?”

  The Tyvek-suited guard watched him silently while he dried his hands on the towel. “I understand, sir. I’m just following orders.”

  Rick nodded. “I’ll talk to Harding. He’s taking too many chances with your lives. Keep that in mind when you take orders from him.”

  “We’re all living on borrowed time, sir.”

  Rick scoffed. “With that attitude, you won’t be around for long. Fight for it, soldier. It’s you or them. Get that through your head now. We are individuals, no longer a collective.”

  The young guard nodded but stayed silent. Rick had ulterior motives in keeping the guards at a distance, but at the same time, he and the others noticed how it seemed the citizens of Hope showed little hope within themselves.

  After weeks of living with them he’d observed that they seemed resigned to an eventual death and that perhaps only a time and circumstance kept them from that fine line. They had no motivation to live, no survival instinct left. They were cared for night and day by rules created by their leaders. There was no living; there was only routine, until they decided it wasn’t worth it, and most of the citizens lived in that fog. Suicide was common.

  The arrival of the Americans had sparked one or more to delay their own deaths through mild curiosity alone. After looking at their lives and the way they lived here, Rick realized there were some lives not worth living. They needed to wake up or they would easily be defeated when the terrorists arrived. The town residents seemed to willingly welcome defeat. Hope would no longer exist in either name or worth if they allowed this to continue.

  Rick passed the guard and rounded the corner to Dalton’s new office.

  “Anything?” Dalton asked.

  “Nah, same crap, different desert.”

  “Well, we still have the woman to question, and then we’ll step it up. We’re looking for names and mission goals. Locations, et cetera. And, of course, if they have large numbers of any major weapons.”

  Rick nodded, then lowered his voice so no passing guard could hear them. “What about Clarisse? How long did she say it would take to develop this virus?”

  Dalton shook his head. “It depends, of course. First she has to locate the antibodies and then isolate probable markers. Define how it’s different from the ones we carry and then
reverse-engineer the vaccine to create a virus that will in turn attack them with lethal precision.” He faced Rick with a pained expression. “It could take months or she might be successful next week. We’re in it for the long haul, probably. We just have to come up with a list of probable excuses to keep this on the down-low.”

  “Let’s start with creating some distance between us and the guards. It’s no joke that they take quarantine lightly, and what we don’t need is for one of them to come down with the virus. These people are almost begging for death. They’re nearly zombies. We need to get Harding to understand that they’re taking unnecessary risks.”

  “Yeah, you’re right. Having them inside the building is too much of a risk. I’ll swing by there and have a chat with him and check in on Clarisse at the same time.”

  “Okay, I’ll hold down the fort and post the guards outside the building while I’m at it. I told them I’d even set up cameras in the interrogation rooms for their monitoring needs, if that’s what it took to keep them from exposure.”

  “Hmmm,” Dalton said as he exited.

  Rick had a feeling Dalton was checking on Clarisse this often for more than one reason. He himself had caught the vibe coming from the lieutenant toward their esteemed doctor, and he was sure it was something that Dalton wouldn’t take lightly. He knew Clarisse could handle herself, but if there was an infatuation there, Dalton’s head wouldn’t be in the game as much as he should be. And they needed him at his best for this.

  Rick sat in Dalton’s chair, leaned back into his best thinking position, and tapped the bald spot on his head. Deep in thought, he wondered how his suspicions could be used to their advantage. Then he remembered who they were directed toward and reprimanded himself. Clarisse would never go along with something like that . . . unless it was her idea to begin with.

  Chapter 31 Control

  “They’re taking the necessary precautions,” Harding said after Dalton explained his concern.

  “I’m not sure they are. You see, the reason this virus spread so rapidly is because it can remain alive in air vapor for over an hour after an occupant leaves a room. Please don’t take risks like this. Look, in two weeks you’ll be immune to the virus and I won’t beg this of you. But for now please station them outside the building.”

  Harding’s pencil was in his hand, and Dalton wanted nothing more than to rip it from him if he started bouncing the blasted eraser against the desk again.

  Harding took a deep breath, glancing at Dalton and then looking back down at his desk. “All right, I’ll call them back. You’re putting me in a position of forced trust. You know that, right? I have no choice, and the lives of my people depend on your convictions.”

  Dalton nodded. “I understand your hesitation. All I can say is, if it were my men, I’d do the same. Your people need something to hope for. It’s ironic, the town’s name. You need to give them something, Henry. Anything to hold onto for the future.”

  “You’ve already done that. You gave them the cure. It came with bad news of an imminent attack by the terrorists, but yes, you’ve given them more hope than I was ever able to.”

  “It should never have gotten so bad, Henry. What the hell were you guys thinking? Yes, you saved them by acting quickly, but you have to give them something to look forward to too. They can’t just stagnate here without anything to show for it except a breath. If we had not entered your world, you’d still have needless suicides.”

  “No. No, we wouldn’t. It was our previous leader. Complete isolation was his rule. We argued about his methods, but he wouldn’t budge. He was a brilliant man, but a depressed one. He killed himself sitting right here. Right after I had had an argument with him because of his rigid rules. Ed was my friend. He couldn’t live with the knowledge that he was wrong. In the end, it was his pride that killed him.”

  “He wasn’t completely wrong, Henry. He did keep all of you alive, but at what cost? Human beings cannot live without hope for a future. If there’s no hope, there’s nothing to look forward to. And then what good is life?”

  The pensive look on Harding’s face granted his agreement.

  “Let’s work on this together,” Dalton continued. “As dumb as it sounds, right now we’re on the losing side of the human race. They, the terrorists, don’t deserve the term. We’re in this together, and we must find a way to triumph over them.”

  “Of course. Why don’t we have some of your men train with mine? At least they would feel less vulnerable. Actually, some of our guards also need better training. Though they can hold their own, I do believe yours have some tricks to share with them. And I’d like to have Clarisse train a member or two of our group in medical care.”

  “I’m sure she’d be honored to. She’s already working on two trainees in our group.” Dalton knew it was coming, but he’d let Harding take his time. A silence hung in the air. He faced the window where all the spring petals from a cherry tree had long blown away, leaving only the dark red foliage as its showcase until it bared fruit.

  “She’s with you, I take it?” Harding asked without making eye contact.

  Dalton didn’t answer right away. He wanted a deep impression to remain when he said the words. “She’s more than my own life. She’s mine, Henry . . . and I am hers.”

  Harding eventually met his stern expression. He smiled with resignation and said, “You’re a lucky man, but then that’s an extreme understatement where Clarisse is concerned.”

  “Yes, it is. Speaking of whom, I’ll go and check in on her now.” He stood from his chair and shook Harding’s hand.

  “I think we should meet often and discuss our progress,” Harding said.

  “Yeah, that’s a good idea. I’ll keep you posted on the harmless interrogations. So far there’s been nothing of value.”

  “They attacked your hunting team, you said?” Harding asked again with a hint of suspicion.

  “Yes, they came up behind us. We were silent hunting, and I turned my head at the right moment and saw the young man behind a tree. Rick circled around with Reuben and McCann. Sam and I found the woman hidden nearby. By the time we were through, we had three. We didn’t detect any others with them, but we could be wrong. Do you have anyone here who speaks Arabic?”

  “No, I don’t believe so.”

  Rick and Reuben both know a few words, and they’re asking most of the questions. So far, the only thing they’re spouting is religious chants. I’m sure you can imagine,” Dalton said.

  Harding laughed. “Of course, what else would they do? They’re probably so brainwashed by now, they weren’t expecting to find anyone who’d fight back . . .” His voice trailed off, and Dalton wondered if Harding had been struck with a moment of terror. “They could have made it here, and they would have found a whole society of people who wouldn’t fight back. They would have been correct in their assumptions then.”

  “They didn’t, Henry, and they won’t. We’re here now, and we will fight with you.”

  Harding, drained of all color, sat back down and nodded his head in solemn restrain.

  “See you later, Henry,” Dalton exited, leaving Harding to deal with the thought of what their policies had nearly cost them.

  After a short walk Dalton came to Clarisse’s door, where a guard waved him in without a word. He found her, as he had so many times before, dressed in a white lab coat. He wasn’t sure where she kept finding those things; they always looked as if they had come directly from the dry cleaner’s. She sat on a high black stool, teetering over a microscope.

  “Hi Dalton,” she said without looking up.

  “How do you do that? How’d you know it was me?”

  “I can always tell it’s you,” she said, still not looking up.

  “How? By smell?” Dalton crept up on her back.

  “No, I just know, that’s all.”

  When he reached her, he couldn’t resist looping his arms around her waist. After his conversation with Harding, he needed to hold her, to claim h
er—mainly to reassure himself that she was still his.

  “Just a second,” she said and placed one of her hands on her waist over his hand where he held her.

  Dalton waited silently, smelling her hair, twisted and flattened into a bun at the back of her head. He trailed little kisses from behind her left ear down the back of her neck.

  She scrunched up her shoulders. “Dal-ton. I’m trying to work here.”

  “Sorry. I need you,” he confessed.

  “I can’t. Not now, at least. Later,” she said, shooting him a devilish smile.

  “Ohh-kay,” he relented, hugging her tightly against him. He swallowed hard and decided to play nice and ask her about the progress. “So, any news?”

  She swallowed and shook her head. “Not yet. The antibodies are much different from the ones we created. It’s going to take some work. Undistracted work . . . so that I can come up with something.”

  He knew what she meant by something. It pained him to have such a horrible task weighing on her conscious. He put his hands on her shoulders and massaged her neck by placing his thumbs on the two long muscles flanking her spine. “Hang in there. I know you’ll find a way.”

  Chapter 32 Missing Sheriff

  McCann awoke in a cloudy haze. A noise crept into his subconscious, waking far too early, and it wasn’t the little boy snoring lightly on the twin bed next to his. He quietly eased himself off his bed, careful not to step too hard on the squeaky floorboards lest he wake Bang. He grabbed his jeans from the foot of his bed and slipped them on, then ran his fingers through his hair, leaving it spiky.

  He padded barefoot across the room and down the darkened hallway, stopping at Marcy and Macy’s door and tapping lightly with his knuckles. The door opened, and Macy’s red-rimmed eyes stared back at him.

  “What is it?” she asked. She turned away, leaving the door open. McCann walked in and closed it behind him. The first thing he noticed was that Marcy wasn’t in the bed she usually shared with her twin.