The Malefic Nation (Graham's Resolution Book 4)

by A. R. Shaw

  He wasn’t sure what he wanted other than Tala alive and here with him. “I . . .” His voice came out raspy and pained. He shook his head.

  “Graham! She’s your daughter!” Marcy scolded him, angry tears running down her cheeks. “Tala would want you to hold her now. She’d hate you for this!”

  Tears came to Graham at the mention of her name. He’d been numb for days and hadn’t realized how much everyone else was grieving, nor had he cared, but hearing Marcy so upset with him shook him a little, and he opened his arms for her to come near. He hugged the young lady. Yes, she had given him some teenage trouble in the past, but what she’d said just now was right. He couldn’t neglect the baby; Tala would, in fact, be furious with him. He owed it to her, and he owed it to Tehya. The infant hadn’t ask to be brought into this screwed up mess of a world, but yet she was here now, and she was his responsibility no matter how much pain he was in over the loss of her mother. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry, Marcy,” he said.

  “It’s okay,” she said sniffing. “Just . . . come back to us. We need you.”

  The baby choose that moment to cry out in hunger. Her little fists rose to her mouth as she tried to find something to suck on.

  “She’s hungry. Would you like to feed her?” Clarisse asked.

  Marcy stepped away and wiped her tears. Graham took a deep breath and Clarisse stood over the opened incubator, holding a bottle full of formula. Wrapped in a blanket she battled to kick off, Tehya’s cries became more urgent; from the moment she was born they had tugged at his heart.

  “Go ahead, pick her up,” Marcy urged.

  “Let him take his time, Marcy,” Mark said.

  Graham brushed his index finger along her soft baby cheek, and Tehya turned in his direction.

  “She’s hungry,” Clarisse repeated, now farther away.

  He could only see Tehya as his daughter now, her dark, shiny hair so like her mother’s, her little nose and mouth. “Shhh,” he said and reached down with his large, clumsy hands to pick up her tiny body. He slipped one hand under her small round head and the other under her bottom and cradled her up toward his chest. Her warm body squirmed in his hold. Her little heart vibrated strongly against him. He sat with her in the chair by the window and Clarisse handed him the bottle. He brushed it against her lips and soon the baby greedily suckled. He hadn’t heard anyone leave the room, but by the time she was finished with the bottle, he found himself alone with his daughter in his arms; her bright coal eyes stared up at him in wonder as he began to hum one of the many songs Tala sang during her days. And somewhere within his heart it hurt just a little less than it had before.

  Chapter 41 Progress

  “Ask him where they first landed in the States,” Rick said to Reuben.

  “I don’t know all of those words, man,” Reuben said and ran a hand over his face in frustration. “Look, the kid’s tired. We’ve kept him up for two days straight now. This is cruel.”

  Rick couldn’t believe what he was hearing from Reuben. “This is cruel? So, we’re keeping him from sleeping? After everything they’ve done to us, you think this is cruel?”

  “I’m just saying it’s below us, that’s all.” Reuben said.

  “Sometimes I don’t get you man. It’s only sleep deprivation,” Rick muttered while watching the kid, who leaned against his cell wall blinking his eyes; each time his lids slid down over the corneas for a longer stretch of time. “Hey!” Rick yelled and startled both the kid and Reuben.

  Reuben got up and left the room.

  “Fine,” Rick said. That guy is losing it.

  “Kid, you tired? Sleepy?” Rick asked, nodding his head. The young man must have gotten the gist of what Rick was asking and nodded back.

  “Too bad.”

  “Allahu Akbar,” the young terrorist said in a sleepy tone.

  “Yeah, yeah . . . How about you tell me where you arrived when you came to this cursed land you hate so much?”

  The boy’s eyelids began to bob again and soon his dark curly head followed the movement.

  “Crap,” Rick muttered and rose from his chair to get a glass of water. As he passed the cell of the man next door, he heard him say, “He . . . don’t . . . know.”

  Rick stopped in his tracks. The light was dim in the cell. “You speak English.”

  “Some” came the reply.

  “What’s your name?”

  The man snorted and laughed a bit. “Names? Names no longer matter, but they called me Omar.”

  “True. Why don’t you tell me the answers to the questions I tried to get out of him, Omar?”

  “We arrived all over. In every airport of this country. Even by sea. Each team has its job: to exterminate or imprison the leftovers until our task is done.”

  “You speak better English than you let on. You’re not Arabic.”

  “I am not.”

  “Why did you join them?” Rick thought he saw something like shame, though he couldn’t be sure. This man had a conscious; a rarity among these animals. Though the light was dim in his cell, the whites of his eyes looked down as if the answers were there on the concrete floor.

  “There’s isn’t a good reason anymore. Everything I was running from is now gone. They killed them all. I, myself, killed many.” He paused, then pointed to the sleeping kid in the next cell. “This kid is brainwashed. He will tell you nothing. This woman next to me will slit your throat if you turn your back on her. She’s killed children, pregnant mothers, in the most horrific ways. She’s honored among them, but even they know she is insane; a revered oddity. I know you will kill us. I ask you to just do it now. But know your days are numbered here. They will kill all of you, and then they will kill themselves. Evil has a way of triumphing even among those who use its will.”

  Rick thought he might be dreaming this. He shook his head. The more the man talked, the more his accent started sounding almost Italian. His appearance wasn’t anything he’d question. He certainly looked Arabic. He knew there were many Americans who turned traitorous and joined the Islamist terrorists, as well as many Europeans seeking adventures among killers. It never made any sense to him.

  “Why are you saying this now?”

  As the man began to speak, his voice tightened with emotion. “I don’t want to return to them. If there is anything good left, let it be a warning to you to leave here. Go north. Live the remaining days hiding from them, if you can, or end it all now. Leave nothing for them to take.”

  Rick shook his head as he left the lockup. It was too much. He began to wonder if perhaps he was sleep-deprived and was imagining all of this.

  Chapter 42 A Weapon Is Born

  “So what does this do, exactly?” Dalton asked Clarisse. He checked to make sure the lab door was locked so that no one might accidently come in and disturb their very private conference. Sam, Reuben, Graham, and Rick were also in attendance, each having snuck into the lab at various times over the last half hour.

  “Is it a completely new virus?” Reuben asked.

  Clarisse pushed her glasses up the bridge of her nose. Dalton loved it when she did that.

  “It’s a mutation of the existing virus. I’ve manipulated it to attach to the antibody markers from the hosts we collected.” Dalton looked around the room at the blank stares.

  “Let’s say the terrorists have carrier captives. They’ve never contracted the virus, and they were never given the terrorists’ vaccine. They should be okay. This virus will pass them over, since they don’t have the same markers in their antibodies. It’s a selective virus. A deadly selective virus.”

  Dalton watched for Reuben’s reaction more than anyone else. He knew Reuben wouldn’t be comfortable with the plan, but what were they to do—die off because the terrorists said so? To hell with that.

  Reuben shifted in his seat, asking, “So, how many will this thing kill?”

  Dalton thought that Reuben was probably trying to reconcile this genocide in his own mind. Before Clarisse could answe
r, he interrupted. He wanted that answer to come from him so that she wouldn’t be the one to blame. “All of them. Every last one of them. Whoever has received their vaccine will perish of this manipulated virus as it spreads over the globe.”

  The room remained silent for a time.

  “Damn . . . that’s dangerous.” It was Sam who finally said something, in a solemn whisper.

  “Don’t you think they had one of these meetings?” Reuben asked, clearly agitated. What makes us any better than them if we go through with this? What keeps this from mutating and coming back to bite us in the ass?”

  “Come on, Reuben. That’s not exactly fair,” Rick interjected.

  “Sure it’s fair. Are we not also terrorists if we commit this crime?”

  Dalton struck back, “What would you have us do? Do you have any better ideas? Look, I know you’re uncomfortable with this. Hell, I’m uncomfortable with it too, but we have no choice. They’ve already killed most of us. Think about that. I shouldn’t have to remind you of it. They’ve already murdered over ninety-eight percent of the human race! We don’t have a choice anymore! Nothing else will work!”

  More silence ensued after Dalton stopped shouting.

  “Reuben, I too have a difficult time with this,” added Graham, “but let me just say I’m willing to accept this evil deed so that our children and others can live their lives. I’ll bear the burden of this crime until I die, but I’ll do so, so that they can live again.”

  Reuben let out a long, slow breath. “And what if I can’t live with it?”

  Dalton shook his head. “That’s a decision that you will have to make for yourself. This is the plan. We’re ready to implement it now. So if you’re not with us, please leave and don’t stand in our way.”

  Reuben shook his head. “I need to think about this,” he said, leaving the room with a slam of the door.

  Everyone stole glances at the other faces around them. Dalton’s face glowed red hot with anger. It was a tough decision, but any thought of his own kids told him it was the right one.

  Chapter 43 Deserter

  Rick had waited hours in the lockup for Reuben to relieve him of guard duty. He bounced a little rubber ball against the painted cinderblock wall. In his mind, he knew what must have happened, yet he didn’t want to believe it was true. Finally, Sam walked in, the next up as guard. When he saw Rick, he asked the obvious question: “Where’s Reuben?”

  Without breaking his rhythm with the ball, Rick said, “I’m pretty sure I know, but someone should check his quarters. Did you see Lavinda or his daughters this morning at breakfast?”

  “Um, no, but that’s not unusual. Sometimes they make their own breakfast at home.”

  “Yeah, but something tells me this is different. Do you want to go check and see if they’re at home, or should I?”

  “You think they left after the meeting yesterday?”

  Rick shook his head and caught the ball in his fist one last time. “I’m pretty sure that might be it. Reuben’s always been—how should I say it—a little more moral than the rest of us. To a fault, he’s a moral man. That’s not a bad thing, but in a time like this it’s a bad thing.

  “You don’t think he would rat on us, do you?”

  Rick thought for a moment, “I hadn’t considered that. That would jeopardize everything.” He rose from his chair to let Sam take over. “I’ll check it out. The prisoners were still asleep, last time I checked. Nothing new.” He left the room and headed for Reuben’s home.

  Once he reached the line of homes he scanned the area. This time of day, Reuben’s wife Lavinda often helped out in the main house, taking care of the children.

  He saw Olivia standing in the kitchen kneading bread dough as a few of the children watched. “Hi Livy, have you seen Lavinda or Reuben’s girls today?” He’d tried to sound calm, but he was out of breath.

  Olivia looked up at Rick, then did a double take when she recognized his urgent expression. “I can’t say that I have, now that you’re asking. Why?”

  He looked around. “You haven’t seen them at all?”

  She shook her head. “Maybe they’re taking a long morning to themselves.”

  “Yeah, maybe that’s it,” he conceded.

  Rick headed to Reuben’s family’s house, knocking twice on the door. “Shit,” he said under his breath, knowing full well what was going on. He tried the door and found it had been left unlocked—something Reuben would never do. “Reuben!” he yelled into the darkened living room. “Lavinda? Lawoaka?” Nothing. No one was home. He walked in farther and saw that their belongings were gone; the kitchen was devoid of food and supplies. They’d left. On the kitchen table he found a note addressed to Dalton.

  “God dammit!”

  Knowing Dalton was probably in Clarisse’s office at this time, he headed there first.

  The townspeople looked up from their daily routine as Rick passed them; some of them waved. He tried not to look so intense, knowing that any unwanted attention might bring further suspicion. Then one of the guards stopped him. “Rick, is there something wrong?”

  “Ah no, I’m just trying to get a little exercise as I run errands this morning. It’s been a while.” Yeah, that didn’t sound suspicious at all.

  “Okay. Don’t hurt yourself!”

  Smartass, he thought. “Nah, see ya later!”

  After that he took it a little easier realizing that he was in fact drawing unwanted attention. He rounded the corner to Clarisse’s lab and took a deep breath before entering.

  Clarisse was bent over a microscope, as usual, and Dalton worked at a desk with his head down. “Uh . . . hi!” Rick said.

  “Hey, what’s up?” Dalton said.

  Rick made sure to close the door securely behind him and then took out Reuben’s note and walked toward Dalton. “Reuben left this for you. It looks like they cleared out last night.”

  “What?” Dalton said as he reached for the note.

  “Yeah man, they’re gone. All their stuff’s gone including the food in the kitchen and the truck in front of their house. They packed up and left.”

  “Reuben left?” Clarisse asked.

  “Yeah, I don’t think he could handle our plan,” Rick said while Dalton read the note to himself.

  “Sonofabitch! Where are the prisoners?” Dalton said.

  “Did he tell Harding?” Clarisse asked.

  Dalton held up a hand to stem the questions while he scanned the note. “It looks like he left Harding a note too. Quick, we’ve got to act now. It might already be too late. Clarisse, go ahead and give the prisoners the virus, we might not get another chance. Rick, come with me. Let’s try to run interference to give her enough time before it’s too late.”

  Chapter 44 A Deception

  Harding took his time on his morning run. Not only did he go the extra mile today, but he found he’d been pushing himself more in general lately. It was probably out of frustration. That or his lack of control when it came to the things he wanted. What he wanted was Clarisse, though that wasn’t going to happen and he could see that clearly now. This realization still made him frustrated, so he ran at a steady pace and continued well past his normal route.

  He told himself he’d have to refocus. The town of Hope needed him. There was nothing more he could do other than be a symbol of the future yet to come. Now that his citizens were safe from the virus they could venture out more. He hoped that finally they would believe there was a future for them and possibly begin to procreate again.

  Unless, of course, what the Americans had said about the terrorists was true. He let his mind settle after a while, paying attention only to the cadence of his shoes slapping against the pavement. All else he tuned out; the thought of terrorists responsible for global genocide was too much to consider.

  Harding found himself changing direction back toward his house after he could no longer keep up a steady pace and showered off before heading in to work. There was much to be done in the days ahead.
They needed to ramp up their food preservation activities for the harvest that would soon be coming in, and since they were now immune to the virus, thanks to the Americans, they could begin taking overnight trips to various areas to secure more supplies and see what was going on out in the rest of the world. Perhaps they could pick up more survivors. The first trip would most likely be to Vancouver, and he needed to get a group ready for that. How to conceal their missions from the terrorists he hadn’t quite figured out yet. He certainly didn’t want to lead them directly to Hope.

  Once showered and dressed, Harding headed to his office. He would check in on Clarisse later in the afternoon. Even though he knew she was attached to Dalton, he still cared about her, and her mourning over Tala’s death weighed on him.

  As he walked he saw Rick jogging toward Clarisse’s office when one of the guards stopped to talk to him. Rick was an odd one, but seemed nice enough. Harding didn’t interrupt their conversation and continued on as Rick waved good-bye to the guard and continued on his journey.

  Once he sat down behind his desk Harding noticed a folded note with his name scribbled in pen across the top. He didn’t recognize the handwriting and so, intrigued, he sat down and opened up the letter.

  A moment later, the paper slid between his fingers and fell to the floor beside his desk. He thought of Clarisse and only Clarisse. Could Dalton have possibly made her do this? He looked out his window facing the lake and saw the trees, now bearing fruit. He took a deep breath and picked up the phone. He knew this would be the last peaceful second before a chaotic storm.

  “Lock down the base. Imminent threat.”

  Sirens immediately sounded, piercing the tranquil quiet of what had started as just another ordinary day.

  Chapter 45 Last Chance

  Clarisse quickly grabbed the syringes prefilled with the virus from the refrigerator. As Rick ran out the door with his weapon drawn, the sirens began to blare. Dalton stopped in his tracks and looked back at Clarisse. “Go!” he shouted, and she bolted out the back door.