The Malefic Nation (Graham's Resolution Book 4)

by A. R. Shaw

  McCann stood silently at Clarisse side, watching the baby’s chest rise and fall as she lay on her back, both hands balled into tiny fists as if she tried to hold on to something unseen.

  “Yes,” Clarisse said, wiping the back of her gloved hand across her eyes. “I’ll go to the lab for a few hours and return around lunchtime. I’ll check on her then, but use the radio if you need anything. She has another week in there, but so far she’s perfect. Keep checking her temperature on the hour and write it down in the log. Don’t try to remember it, you’ll forget. We’re all sleep deprived.” She handed him the clipboard where they noted all of the baby’s details from around-the-clock observation.

  As if he’d forget to write anything down. “I’ve got it covered Clarisse. Go ahead. Go.”

  She nodded and opened the door, revealing Graham’s silent form sitting in the wooden chair, Bang asleep in his lap. Graham’s eyes locked on the child in the box as Clarisse closed the door behind her and addressed him. “Graham, you know, you can go in and see her any time. Just suit up. There’s an extra suit beside the door. She has one week to go, but after that you’ll need to hold her—a lot. Take care of her, you know?”

  McCann heard the encouraging words through the cracked door as he mixed up another bottle of formula for the baby’s next feeding. Graham would come around. He just needed time to recover from the shock of losing Tala. They all needed that time. McCann hoped they had enough of it before the terrorists found them.

  Chapter 36 Loss

  Is this my fault? I should have taken her blood pressure that morning instead of running off to the lab. I might have caught an increase, I might have detected preeclampsia.

  Walking the worn path between their residence and the lab, Clarisse allowed her questions to flow and feelings of guilt to spill forth.

  My God, it was preventable. I let her die. I could have stopped her death had I not been so involved in coming up with the virus. I allowed her to die. It was my fault . . .

  Morbid thoughts ran through her mind. Seeing Tala’s blood rushing out of her, her olive skin turning pale and then turning blue. Hearing the baby’s insistent cries from the next room, Graham’s stricken expression, and yelling No! over and over. She could hear the despairing echo still.

  She wiped her eyes and took a deep breath before she entered the lab. When she looked up, she found Dalton leaning against the far wall of the room, a worried expression on his face. They’d met like this every morning. He tried to extinguish her guilt, her pain. He felt it too. They all did. They’d lost Tala, but they’d gained a life, and they desperately needed to survive.

  “You’re early,” he said.

  “McCann and Macy have the baby covered.”

  Dalton thrust forward and took steps toward Clarisse; they fell into an embrace. She leaned back after a moment and looked up at him. “You can’t . . . fix me, Dalton. I can barely breathe with this pain of her death. I feel so guilty.” She started to cry again. Her eyes had never been so swollen.

  Trying to contain his own emotion, he said, “You’re not at fault, Clarisse. No one blames you one bit for what happened. How can you think that way?”

  She brushed him off and put on her lab coat. “I’ve got work to do now. Have you guys gotten anything out of the prisoners?”

  “No. Not much anyway. Rick and Reuben both know a little Arabic and we caught the prisoners talking last night on film. They’re trying to translate it.”

  “They can’t see each other in separate stalls. How did that happen?”

  “We conveniently left the doors cracked a little—by accident on purpose. They talked.”

  “Gotcha,” she said, but worried they were taking chances.

  “How’s your progress?” Dalton asked.

  She let a deep breath out. “I’m getting closer. It shouldn’t be too long now. I might have something to work with in another two weeks.”

  She now ignored her conscience, the potential consequences of her actions when it came to this. It was the only way to cope with the underlying morality of their plan.

  “Clarisse?”

  She looked up from her desk.

  “I love you. We’ll get through this. It won’t be long now.”

  She looked away and nodded, ignoring any further communication with Dalton. She was coping with too much right now; any more and she might break. And she couldn’t afford to break. Not now. Not yet.

  As Dalton left she turned back to her work. She wouldn’t leave the lab until the nightfall.

  Chapter 37 Tehya

  The dirt had already settled a bit on Tala’s mound after only a few days. Graham left at sunrise, gathering wildflowers that bloomed in front of their borrowed home. He couldn’t bear to lie in bed anymore. He smelled her there; he smelled her everywhere. He heard her laugh. She whispered to him on the wind.

  As he’d passed the opened door of the baby’s room, Graham caught a glimpse of Macy cooing at the infant. He imagined the baby sucking on a bottle. His eyes lingered on the worn doorknob in the low morning light. He turned and padded down the hall with his chest tight, his heart tighter.

  Today was the day he could finally hold her, and yet he wasn’t certain he wanted to. This brought a profound feeling of guilt because Tala, more than anyone, would want him to love the child beyond measure. The truth was, Graham loved Tala beyond measure and having lost her too, like his first love, he felt like he didn’t have it in him to love like that again.

  No, instead he would care for the child. He would raise her, but he would never love again. Not her, not anyone. That’s how it was right now. And when the child grew up, he would leave and find his place in death and be happy about it. In the meantime, he would only go on for Tala.

  Her name was Tehya, meaning “precious.” This was the girl name they’d settled on weeks ago. Even though he’d given Tala a hard time about the odd name, he now agreed she was a precious child.

  Bending down, Graham lay the blossoms atop the mound while brushing the perished ones aside. The constriction in his chest thrust forward and ruptured into wretched mourning. No longer would he feel the slickness of Tala’s braided, glistening black hair warmed in the sunlight. No longer would he hear the old Indian tales she often repeated for the children in dull moments of their workday. Her smile would exist only in his memory now. She loved the cabin in Cascade, and she would never see it again. Nor would she see the child she gave her live to have.

  The love Graham had invested had been ripped from him so quickly. The pain was so deep; he would never be whole again. He resented the child right now. He wished she’d not lived so that he could die too.

  A wind blew off the lake, chilling him. Graham dried his eyes with the back of his hand, taking long, deep breaths to calm his raging heart. But he’d promised her. The child lived, and he would carry on.

  Chapter 38 The Prisoners

  Dalton and Sam watched the footage and listened to the audio feed again and again. The speech came over as feminine. There was no mistaking it, the leader of this group was the woman. They were all a little surprised when Rick played them the footage the first time. When they met her behind the bars in the light of day, she pretended to be meek and subservient, as if she’d been a captive. It was all an act. She was hell-bent on murder, and made sure the other two men were complying with the kill-the-infidels agenda.

  “I’ll be damned,” Sam said. “Though I guess it’s not surprising, since she was fully armed when we kidnapped her. They wouldn’t have let her see the light of day if she didn’t have some skill set they found redeeming.”

  “See what I mean?” Rick asked. “She might look like a sweet, innocent girl, but that woman is evil. Don’t be fooled fellas.”

  “What is she saying, exactly?” Sam asked.

  “Same thing as always—Allahu Akbar, praise be to God. Only it’s meant as a war cry,” Rick said.

  “You’d think they’d get a little more creative than that after all this time
,” Sam said.

  Rick leaned forward, “Yeah, well you have to give it to them—they’re consistent. Why mess with success?”

  “That’s only because there’s no depth, no limitation to the atrocities they are willing to commit.” Sam’s voice dropped to a whisper. “Slicing a five-year-old in half was only the beginning. Committing genocide on a global scale . . .” He couldn’t finish the sentence because he lacked the eloquence with which to express his astonished disgust.

  They took their turns in this comprehension of the events that had led them here. Each time those actions were mulled over, annotated, the indigestible realization came around; then it sped off into the universe to return once more. True answers never really came.

  Rick addressed the silence, “Don’t try to understand them, Sam. It’ll drive you insane. The problem is, you’re applying human standards, and they’re not human; they can’t be. They gave that option up long ago. As for these clowns, we have to keep up the questioning to buy Clarisse more time. She’s nearly done, and the testing will start soon. Even so, I doubt the interrogation will give us anything we can use.”

  “Good. I’m ready to leave this place. It’s starting to give me the creeps.”

  “What do you mean?” Rick asked, not knowing Sam to be creeped out easily.

  He shook his head. “Tala’s death. She’s still . . . here to me. She used to stroke the top of my daughter’s head and kiss her there. Last night, Addy woke up and swore she felt Tala do that as she slept. She was convinced of it. It took me forever to get her calmed down. I don’t believe in ghosts, but I do believe in strong spirits and Tala had—or has—a very strong spirit.”

  Rick was silent, staring at the door leading to the prisoner’s cells. “She certainly left us too soon. I don’t know if Graham can go on after this. I can’t imagine losing Olivia. She’s all torn up about not having known what to do. She was right there with Tala.”

  “Graham will go on. I’ve been there. As soon as he holds the little one, he’ll go on—for Tala.”

  Rick blew out a breath. “Does he have a choice?” It was a rhetorical question, but Sam shook his head anyway.

  Just then Dalton entered the building; they recognized the sound of his footsteps, unlike anyone else’s. They all knew each other that way by now, each man coming and going, their identities revealed in their footfalls.

  “Hey. How are the infidels today?” Dalton joked.

  Rick answered, “We’re fine. The asshats, on the other hand, were up late last night. Regurgitating the same old rant. Sounded more like a pep talk, though. And guess what? The ringleader is the lady.”

  “You’re sure?” Dalton asked.

  “Yep.”

  Rick turned to Dalton. “How’s Graham this morning?”

  Dalton shook his head. It was too soon to ask.

  Just then a cart carrying the prisoners’ daily breakfast came through the front door. Rick and Sam greeted the guard and accepted the food, then pushed the cart smelling of pancakes down the hall to the cells.

  Dalton wandered down the hallway and watched as Rick slid the trays of food under the bars. The prisoners didn’t move. Instead they sat with their backs against the cinderblock wall of their cells. The female prisoner appeared wary; the two men both had half smiles on their faces. No one spoke, but only followed Rick with their eyes as he delivered the food.

  Dalton peeked in on each one. They were all being treated humanely: enough water, food, and the use of a bathroom facility. A small slice of sunshine came through a tiny window at the top of each cell. Once a day, Rick led them to a small enclosed courtyard with chained arms and legs. They didn’t struggle, but remained confident. They were waiting. All they had to do was wait for the disease to spread north to save them.

  Dalton walked away in disgust. If he stayed any longer, he’d do something he’d regret.

  He couldn’t wait for Clarisse, as brilliant as she was, to finish her research and help them exterminate the terrorists once and for all. They were almost at that point.

  In Dalton’s mind, the terrorists were responsible for Tala’s death and the circumstances leading up to it. They were certainly responsible for Steven’s. Hell, as he saw it, they were responsible for everything.

  Chapter 39 A Sign of Him

  Lucy and Marcy came by the nursery to relieve Macy and McCann for a few hours so they could resume the search for the dogs. As Macy said good-bye, she gave directions to Marcy about the baby’s last feeding of the day.

  “Please don’t go,” Bang pleaded. “Can I come with you?”

  “We’re just going to search for Sheriff again. You know we do that every day. We’re going to looking on the west side today, hoping for some tracks. Doesn’t Addy want you to stay with her?”

  “No, she’s helping Olivia. Please, can I come?”

  Macy looked up to McCann, who nodded. “Go let Ms. Olivia know you’re coming with us—and make sure you put your boots on.”

  Bang ran off, and she watched as he flung his legs far ahead of him, his desire to go with them so strong.

  “He needs some time away. It’ll be good for him,” McCann said as he readied the horses.

  Macy agreed and, knowing they needed some good news, she hoped they’d find something, some sign of Sheriff or even the other dogs. She tucked some supplies into a backpack and McCann cupped his hands together as a foot lift. They performed this routine nearly every day, and could easily predict one another’s actions Macy likened it to being married; she couldn’t imagine another living soul this close to her, the way a man and woman in love lived their lives side by side every day. Then, as it often did, came the reminder that Graham had lost Tala. It used to be that she couldn’t hold back this pain, but now she could stop it at the base of her throat, right before the tears began.

  Bang returned, and McCann scooped him up and settled him in front of Macy on her horse.

  After McCann mounted, they veered west outside the main gate. They’d covered the east thoroughly in recent weeks and had found nothing. The guards waved them through as they passed the gate. Instead of acting suspicious about their endeavors, as in the past, nowadays the guards wished them luck on departure and asked them what they’d seen out there upon return. Macy they were curious about what lay beyond the gates. Why they never ventured out and bucked the rules was something she could not fathom. Where was their determination? They had the desire, she could see it in their eyes, the way they gazed out at the same scenery day after day.

  She’d finally came to the conclusion that it was just as Sam had said when she’d questioned him about their behavior: the residents of Hope were cut from a different cloth.

  They crossed the road, and Macy followed McCann’s down an embankment and up the other side. Her horse easily traversed the ditch, and she held Bang tightly with one arm; the boy, following Macy’s example, leaned backward as the horse leaned forward.

  Once under the dense forest canopy, they spoke in soft whispers while keeping their eyes open for signs. The shaded air chilled Macy’s bare shoulders. From time to time she would watch McCann’s profile as he turned right and then left, scanning the forest floor. His jaw flexed he gnawed on a one of the toothpicks he’d whittled from a clean stick during the quiet evening hours.

  McCann would stop occasionally, study one spot, and then continue on, sometimes explaining what he saw and sometimes not. This was their customary routine on these searches. But at one stop he lingered, then descended from his horse after a few moments.

  “What is it?” Macy asked. McCann walked over to the edge of the deer trail they’d followed and investigated something out of Macy’s view along the forest floor. She was afraid to hope anymore, so she didn’t; she refused to let her conscience be had.

  “Could be nothing” he said, emerging from the undergrowth. Macy thought he was getting ready to remount his horse, but instead he removed the stick from his mouth and placed it in his shirt pocket. Then, without warning,
he placed two fingers into his mouth and whistled long and high. It was a whistle he’d used many times to call Sheriff home back in Cascade. It startled Macy and Bang, and even her horse took a step backward.

  “Did you see something?”

  Instead of answering, McCann repeated the whistle, this time even louder.

  “McCann?”

  Once more he let out a whistle, then turned to her after a few seconds of silence. “They were here. I can see their tracks. They’re older tracks, but they were here, Macy.” McCann pointed to the ground and the brush nearby.

  He walked a few paces and pulled back some of the greenery covering the ground to study the tracks. “There was someone else here too. Boot prints.” He handed Macy his horse’s reins and followed the tracks on foot.

  Hope swallowed Macy so hard that she could barely breathe.

  McCann knelt down and ran his hand over the ground. “They’re probably a few weeks old, probably from that bad rain we had. They could be anywhere by now.” He looked at Macy. “Don’t look so crestfallen. This is good news. At least we found a sign of them.”

  Bang leaned back into Macy. She knew he was feeling a loss of hope too. They were so close.

  McCann whistled again. They waited for a response, but none ever came. Reluctantly they returned back to Hope

  But McCann’s words echoed in Macy’s ears: At least we found a sign of them.

  Chapter 40 Holding Her

  Later that afternoon, Graham passed by the doorway of Tehya’s room. “Graham, come in,” said Clarisse. She’d come home early that afternoon to bring the baby out of quarantine for the first time.

  Mark swung the bedroom door open a little wider for Graham to step inside.

  “I’m going to open the incubator. Do you want to hold your daughter?” Clarisse said.