Ravagers [05.00] Eradicate

by Alex Albrinck

  But she’d hoped, in some small corner of her heart, that such a happy event could happen. She would hope until she met her mother at some unknown future time and place, until her mother could look her in the eye and regret nothing.

  Or… until her mother died, and she’d never have that chance at reconciliation.

  She closed her eyes for a moment, and then pushed aside those thoughts. Her parents had proven they cared nothing for her except as a pawn in their grand schemes of world control and domination. There was nothing to be gained by expending a wisp of emotional energy on them.

  She had more urgent matters to attend to. Like her own survival.

  And if she survived… she’d get a chance to see her father, perhaps get some answers… and perhaps find that, despite what she believed and what she’d told Miriam, that maybe she could point a gun at him and pull the trigger.

  First things first, though.

  Miriam’s team had told her that the poison took somewhere between four and six hours to work, and that when it started, death would come in a few scant minutes. It was imperative, therefore, that she purge the poison from her body as quickly and thoroughly as she could. She’d tasted her wine more than she’d drank from it, had purposefully dabbed only a small amount of the sauce on her food, but the reality was that she’d ingested the poison. Not as much as the others, but enough.

  She retraced her steps back toward her room, eyes flicking left and right, looking for the sign she’d seen on her way here. It was an odd name that she couldn’t initially place, but after a moment’s reflection, she realized that the shop dubbed the Apothecary was exactly where she’d need to stop on the way back to her room.

  She just hoped the store was still open so that she didn’t have to break in. Breaking in would definitely raise suspicions.

  The spiciness of the sauce—far more potent than what she normally ingested—had left her face flushed and damp, and that, combined with the emotional news she’d received, left her eyes red and watering. She looked like she was ailing, which would certainly aid in the conversation she’d need to have.

  She rounded the corner and saw, to her relief, that the shop was still open, and walked inside.

  Much to her surprise, she saw Leslie behind the counter.

  Leslie blinked a few times as recognition came. “Ms. Silver?”

  Despite her ailing appearance, Deirdre still managed to maintain her arrogant persona. “Are you following me, Leslie? We seem to keep meeting each other.”

  “No, no, not at all Ms. Silver. This is where I work, maintaining the medicines in this shop, but in general the people here are pretty healthy, so I’ll help out in other areas as needed.” She grinned sheepishly. “When I heard you’d arrived and needed some assistance, for example.”

  Deirdre nodded and wiped the sweat seeping from her brow on her sleeve. “It looks like I need some more of that assistance.”

  Leslie finally seemed to notice her condition. “What happened?”

  “Had dinner. Tried something new. Apparently… my body didn’t care for it.”

  Leslie looked horrified. “Food allergies are nothing to mess around with. How long ago did you eat?”

  “Maybe fifteen, twenty minutes?”

  Leslie thought for a moment. “I can offer something to treat the symptoms, but if you’re reacting like that already, we may need to consider an emetic.”

  “A… what?”

  “It forces you to empty your stomach.”

  Deirdre wrinkled her nose. “That sounds… awful.”

  “Sometimes, it’s the only way. Give me just a moment.”

  The young woman scurried about, checking boxes, small plastic tubes, and sealed containers, frowning at some, nodding at others, assembling a collection of pills of various sizes and colors.

  She marched back to Deirdre a moment later. “This purple one? That’s the emetic. You need to take that immediately. It… acts quickly, so I’d make sure you’re near your bathroom when you take it. And do it right away; the sooner you can get the offending food out, the better.”

  If only she knew. “Right. The others?”

  “These treat various symptoms.” She handed Deirdre a card. “Some symptoms may go away once the allergen is removed. If not, I’ve provided you a pack of pills that each treat different symptoms, and which can safely be taken together. Very important point: take the emetic first, let it do its job, and then sleep as long as you can. Don’t take the symptom pills first.”

  “Because they’d come right back out.”

  “Exactly.” She handed Deirdre the pills. “Hope you’re back to normal tomorrow.”

  Why? Deirdre thought. My normal is to treat her poorly. She ought to hope it makes me a better person. She let the usual harsh Deirdre persona and mask drop for a moment, favoring Leslie with a genuine, if weary, smile. “Thanks, Leslie.”

  And she walked off.

  The poison, though intended to be slow acting, still seemed to be doing a number on her. Or perhaps, ironically, she actually was allergic to the spicy sauce she’d used to season her food and poison her so-called friends. That made more sense; Miriam’s team had been quite insistent that nothing would seem amiss and then a few minutes later the victim would simply drop dead. She shouldn’t be feeling anything yet.

  But she was. Her vision was blurring, and she felt as though her internal body temperature was rising quickly, like a fire had been set off inside her.

  She finally staggered back into her room and couldn’t find a glass, so she put the emetic pill in her mouth, cupped her hands under the water, and let the whole volume cascade into her mouth. With her blurred vision, her aim was sloppy; she got as much on her clothes as in her mouth. But it worked; the pill went down. She drank more water in the sloppy fashion, then knelt next to the commode.

  When it all ended, she was sweating profusely, more so than she ever had during one of Roddy’s torture sessions he called workouts, and it felt as though every muscle in her body had suffered significant damage.

  But she could tell it had done the trick. With what looked like every meal she’d eaten in the last month now out of her body and inside the commode, she felt the symptoms slipping away. Somewhere in that mess she’d disgorged were the bits of poison in the wine and the sauce.

  She flushed, peeled off her clothes, and showered, letting the water into her mouth so she could gargle and spit out the horrific acidic taste in her mouth. She toweled off, brushed her teeth—three times—and finally crawled into bed, leaving in place the towels she’d wrapped around her hair and torso.

  Sleep came instantly.

  Her final thought before she slipped into the void: would she ever wake up again?

  * * *

  She did.

  Consciousness returned slowly, and she felt a mental clarity she’d not felt in months. Perhaps the emetic had cleared out more than just an allergen and poison. The sheets were damp, and she realized she’d sweated out even more while she slept. Her muscles ached, but it was the ache of recovery.

  The cool air in the room teased her skin, and she shivered. She took her time getting out of the bed, and headed straight into the shower. She turned to water as hot as her skin could bear, scrubbed her hair and body thoroughly. An hour later, she looked almost normal, just a bit pale. Her movements were a bit more labored than usual, but she could still move.

  She brushed her teeth again, trying to get the last hint of the acidic taste from her mouth. She looked at the extra medicines Leslie had supplied and read the paper describing symptoms they could treat. Nothing to treat pale skin or achy muscles.

  She found one of the outfits Leslie had brought her and put it on. As she dressed, her eyes flicked to the clock. She’d slept at least twelve hours, something she’d not done in years. Apparently, fighting off a significant allergen and an attempted self-inflicted poisoning was hard work.

  She picked up the medicines she wouldn’t need and headed out of the room, ret
racing her steps from the previous night toward the Apothecary so she could return the unneeded medicines to Leslie. And then she’d get something to eat. She hadn’t eaten since emptying her stomach—and probably every other internal organ—into the commode the night before, and was famished.

  It didn’t take long for her to feel the change in the air, the sense that something was terribly wrong. When she reached the Apothecary and walked inside, she found Leslie behind the counter, eyes red with tears that continued to dribble down her damp cheeks, her posture suggestive of someone who’d just suffered a great loss.

  She approached with caution. “Leslie? What’s wrong?”

  Leslie’s eyes snapped back into focus. “Ms. Silver! What do you mean… wait, you haven’t heard, have you?”

  “I took the emetic and have been sleeping since.” She put the remaining meds back on the counter. “And it seems to have cured whatever ailed me. Thank you. I think you may have saved my life.”

  Leslie burst into tears.

  Deirdre frowned. “I didn’t know learning you’d saved my life was something you’d cry about. What’s wrong, Leslie? Wait… what is it that I haven’t heard yet?”

  Leslie regained a bit of composure, wiped some of the tears from her face. “Sorry. I’m not crying about you. It’s…. well, we’ve had some visiting dignitaries—other than you—all major leaders of Phoenix, industrial and commercial giants from the old world.”

  “I’m aware of that. That’s who I had dinner with last night. My reaction to the food ended that meal before I’d gotten the chance to catch up with them. I’m hoping to meet up with them again today.”

  Leslie burst into tears again.

  Deirdre moved closer. “Did I say something wrong?”

  Leslie looked up at her, eyes burning red with the tears. “They’re all dead.”

  Deirdre let her eyes widen, as if this was something she’d never considered hearing. “What? Dead?” Her voice was a whisper. “How can they be dead? I just talked to them last night! They all seemed fine.”

  “They’d set up a meeting with the operations lead here for this morning. None of them showed up. Aides went to check on them, to see if they could find a good time to reschedule. None of them answered their doors. They got security to open the doors.” Leslie took a deep breath. “They said… they said the looks on their faces were fearful. Like… like they knew they were dying, but couldn’t do anything about it, couldn’t even call for help.” She slumped against the counter. “That’s why I’m here, right? To keep people healthy, to keep them alive. Well, they’re dead. I’ve failed them.”

  “It’s not your fault, Leslie.” Deirdre tried to sound soothing, rather than as though she knew the real cause of death and thus knew Leslie hadn’t done it. “You didn’t know. It sounds like no one knew or could know. If you’d been told, you would have helped them. Everyone here knows that.”

  Leslie’s face brightened. Slightly. “Maybe. But how? How could four people—especially those four people—all die overnight on the same day? They were in excellent health, impossibly good health according to medical records. And yet…” She looked at Deirdre.

  Deirdre put a hand to her mouth. “Leslie? I was with them last night. I… do you think I’m at risk?” She let her voice shake; it was reasonable for her to worry about dying suddenly as well, right? Since she’d been the last one with them? She thought so. She forced her breathing to become faster and faster, as though the idea that she, too, might be about to drop dead was causing significant and serious dread.

  “I don't know,” Leslie said. “I guess… maybe something happened to all of them after you left? You’re probably fine. Maybe your allergic reaction got you out of the way before… whatever might have happened, happened.” She offered a plastic smile. “Ironic, maybe? That food allergy that made you so miserable last night may have saved your life.”

  Deirdre exhibited a forced-looking smile. “Yeah. If that’s the case… I take back all the bad things I thought about the medicine when I was… experiencing the effects.” She worked at calming herself down, then reached out and squeezed Leslie’s arm. “Stay upbeat, Leslie. It’s not your fault. And the people here need you to keep them in the good health they’ve enjoyed because of your work.”

  She turned and left, but not before she saw the woman’s posture change, saw the doubt and sense of hopelessness turn to resolve and determination.

  It felt… good. Good to build people up, rather than knock them down.

  She smiled. She liked the new Deirdre much better than the old.

  She loaded a tray with food from one of the dining halls and selected an empty table, sat down, and began to eat, trying to maintain a sense of calm dignity. There was a practical side to her efforts at self-control; she didn’t want to overwhelm her body with food, not after draining herself of it the night before.

  Her seating choice allowed her to casually eavesdrop on conversations, watch the comings and goings of the people here. They moved in patterns that seemed familiar to all of them; despite Leslie’s emotion, it seemed little in the day-to-day movement of this place continued without change. Conversations focused less on the sudden, shocking deaths and more on the eagerly-anticipated changes, not the least of which was the ability to let fresh air flow in with the extensive treatment required now to ensure no deadly virus or Ravager—check that, Cleanser—sneak inside. They were, in short, looking forward to the terraforming activities getting underway apace, accelerating the small initial efforts already begun.

  She realized, as she ate and thought, that she’d finished her assigned mission. She’d eliminated four people from the list, all without drawing attention to herself. Leslie hadn’t been wrong when she said the food allergy had saved her life; but for that, she had little doubt people would connect the dots and realize that she’d escaped unscathed and the others hadn’t. If they figured out what she’d done, she had little doubt she’d be executed.

  She suspected she’d die carrying out her mission, if not by the poison itself, then in the aftermath. But… it looked like she was in the clear. And she didn’t know what to do next. Should she leave, go back to Miriam and company, and see if she could do something else? No, her leaving now, so soon after arriving, and in the immediate aftermath of the sudden deaths of the only four people she’d spent notable time with around here, would raise a lot of suspicion.

  So she’d stay. And she’d do exactly what she claimed her father had sent her to do.

  She finished her meal, followed the example of the others and left her tray and dishes in a designated spot, and walked outside.

  It looked like they were accelerating those terraforming efforts already.

  Workers were using heavy machinery to till the soil, mixing in some sort of gloopy mess that she suspected helped nutrients to make the ground fertile once more, repairing the damage the Ravagers wrought. In the distance, she could see the large airships they’d used to fetch seeds and partially grown seedlings for later planting, and eventually pairs of animal species that could repopulate the area in a manner conducive to long-term sustainability.

  She wondered if any of those ships had come from the space station recently. The now-dead quartet had told her that her father would be here soon.

  She watched the activity for a while, impressed at the level of coordination, the ability to know exactly what tools and supplies they’d need at just the right time. If she was going to offer a status report to her father, she’d tell him that everything here was going very, very well.

  She walked back inside.

  Two guards approached her, and flanked her in a manner that blocked her movement in any direction. “Deirdre Silver, you need to come with us, ma’am.”

  She stared at the speaker. “Excuse me? I don’t need to do anything. Step aside, and let me pass.”

  She tried to walk around the guard blocking her way into the facility, but he stepped into her path as the rear guard caught up to her and se
ized one arm. The forward guard seized the other. She squirmed, but their grips were firm, not tight enough to leave a mark, but enough to keep her from slipping away. They started walking, and Deirdre had no choice but to move along with them. “Where are we going?”

  “You need to answer some questions, ma’am.” His tone—and facial expression—made clear that he wouldn’t be offering any further details.

  They marched her through low-travel passages and then into the residential section, where they turned down a hall she hadn’t traversed before. The spacing between doors suggested that the quarters here were substantially larger than her own.

  Oddly, she found that annoying. They’d given her normal quarters? When they had better options available?

  She almost laughed aloud at her reaction.

  They paused before one of the suites, and the talkative guard knocked three times, paused, knocked twice, paused, and then knocked four times. The door opened from the inside, and the guards gave her a gentle push.

  She heard the door slam closed behind her as she regained her balance. “What is the meaning of this outrage?”

  A man stepped into view. “You’ve got some explaining to do, Deirdre. And I’ll know if you’re lying to me.”

  Deirdre stuck her chin out defiantly. “You’ve got some questions to answer yourself.”

  Oswald Silver smirked at her, his eyes laced with a mix of pain and anger. “Then let’s get started, shall we?”

  Chapter 21

  The Space Station

  It took nearly two hours to bring the primary force of the Old Guard to the rendezvous point, the room where John had established all manner of communication and monitoring setups that would keep the group well informed of the goings-on in the territory they’d try to conquer by stealth.