“No, he won’t be joining us. But please, before we go upstairs, do sit down. I made us some tea.” Cooper handed the poisoned cup of tea to Ilsa.
“There is nothing like a good cup of tea. In fact, I can get a little crazy without my caffeine.”
“Perfect. Thank you,” said Ilsa. She paused.
“So, can I ask why he’s in handcuffs if he is not going to be joining us?” A coy smile played across her lips.
“Well, that’s sort of complicated. In short, suffice to say, he is in handcuffs because he is not who he says he is,” replied Cooper.
“I am a United States Marshal, Protective Services Division, Special Operations.” The handcuffs rattled against the chair as William struggled to sit up straighter.
“So he says,”
“Are you in the Witness Protection Program?” Ilsa asked.
“Something like that.” Cooper playfully added, “Although as you can clearly see, I can handle the protection department just fine on my own.”
Ilsa set her teacup down and began digging through her purse.
“Problem?” Dr. Cooper asked.
“I’m getting a headache.”
Ilsa eventually pulled out a small bottle of aspirin, but she hid the pills she dumps into her hand and sorted them, shielding her actions from both William and Cooper, eventually selecting one, and taking it.
There was silence in the room for a few moments, all except the sound of the ticking clock on the mantel, whose presence in the room is always known, ticking, ticking, ticking away.
“So, what’s his story?” Isla asked, motioning to the chained William on the floor.
“Do you want the long version or the short one?” Cooper asks in return.
“You tell me; you’re the one paying.”
Cooper is very reflective for a moment. “Indeed I am.”
“Well, if he’s not a United States Marshal, then who is he?”
“Well, at first I thought he was a variable,” Cooper replied.
“A what?” Ilsa looked confused.
“A variable. You know, a value that may change within the scope of a given problem or set of operations. It’s the opposite of a constant. Think of it sort of like a side effect if it helps. But then, I think to myself, he has this badge, and all these lies that go with it. And he knows my name. He has to be Agency.”
“Agency?” She frowned.
“Office of Strategic Services, CIA, Homeland Security, Graywater, United Fruit Company, does it really matter what they are calling themselves these days?”
“Who is he then?”
“It doesn’t matter who he is. All that matters is that he is not who he says he is.”
Ilsa asked the most obvious question next: “Ok, but if you have U.S. Marshals protecting you, then why is it so hard to believe that they might send this guy to bring you someplace safe?”
“Because I have a special arrangement with the United States Attorneys’ Office. I know all of the Marshals that are assigned to me because I hand pick each and every one of them. I review and approve the file of every person that gets to see my case. It is a verbal clause, special and unique to my particular case. They are never, under any circumstances, to send anyone to this residence without my prior knowledge and approval.” Cooper turned directly to William. “They never have, and they never would.”
“You don’t know me because I am not assigned to you. I told you, it’s a mess out there. Many of the agents are not reporting in. They are heading home to be with their own families. Most everyone has given up. I was just the closest agent when the request went out to pick you up.” William tried to explain.
Cooper cut him off. “That request is something that would never happen. You are a very convincing liar, whoever you are.”
“I don’t know Coop, it sorta seems legit to me. It really is a mess out there. Maybe we should un-cuff him before we get into trouble,” Isla reasoned.
“Before we get into trouble? Are you fucking for real? You are trapped on a small round rock hurtling through the vacuum of space with a growing cancer on it that views you as its primary food source. Oh yeah, and you are seven weeks pregnant. An event perfectly timed to coincide with the end of the industrial world and civilization in general. For fuck’s sake Ilsa, I don’t know how the rest of your days normally go, but take it from me, you’re already in fucking trouble!” Cooper turns his rant to William. “And so are you! I know factually that you are not a U.S. Marshal, and showing up here pretending to be one can only mean one thing!”
“I’m telling you the truth,” William pleaded.
“Sorry, son. I happen to know otherwise.”
“Ok, so let’s pretend he is not a U.S. Marshal,” said Ilsa. “So then, what are you going to do with him?”
“We don’t have to pretend. If anyone arrives on my property without my advance knowledge, I am to do two things. The first is to push this.” Cooper revealed a small panic button on a necklace hidden under his shirt. “Done. Quite some time ago.”
“What does it do?”
“At this point, probably nothing.” Cooper turns to William and mocks him. “But one can have faith.”
“And second?” Isla asked.
“After that, I am to use my best discretion. I can either lock myself into my safe room in the attic, or I can resolve the situation myself.”
“Resolve the situation?”
“I think we sort of left that part vague for a reason,” Cooper replied, just as a clock began to chime in another room. “There you have it. Time waits for no man. Honey, you can head upstairs. There’s some champagne on ice, and we can start the party as soon as I get there. I just need to wrap a few things up down here with our guest.”
Ilsa got up and started to leave the room, pausing briefly in front of William, then turned to Cooper and asked, “You’re not going to hurt him, are you?”
“No,” Cooper replied. “I won’t hurt him.”
Ilsa left the room without looking back. Cooper turned his attention to William, pulling a small syringe out of a case on the table. “Don’t worry, asshole; this won’t kill you. I’ve got a party to go to upstairs, and you’re not invited. Can’t have you messing about down here while I’m messing about up there.” Cooper stuck the needle into William’s neck, and the fog began to deliver him into darkness once more.
The rain did not last long, but that was fine with Che. The cool drops of rain falling on his naked body had felt amazing for the first few minutes as it cleaned the filth from his skin, but once wet, his lean, muscular body quickly became chilled. The light wind that was blowing dried him, but the night had been left cool by the passing thunderstorm, and the chill from the wind only made it more so. But still, even being cold, Che was thankful for the wind more than anything.
The wind was absolutely critical in hunting the walkers and runners, and if Che had to name the single most common deficit amongst the fighters in the Resistance who repeatedly fell short of their full potential on hunts, it would have to be their ignorance of the many ways that the wind can hinder or help them in their hunting sessions.
Perfectly calm outdoor air is actually a quite rare occurrence, and scents drift, linger, and flow with the winds. Sometimes they prevail in one direction, and other times they ebb and flow like the tide, with complicated currents based on the geography of the area.
Che believed that no matter whether these things turned out to be alive, dead, or something in between, no matter how sensitive a nose he was dealing with, it would be physically impossible to smell any free floating scent or odor upwind of its source. Regardless, even though he was freshly cleaned from the cool spring shower, Che stopped at a mud hole and began to liberally apply mud and grime to his body. He rubbed the wet dirt and mud onto his skin until it covered him completely, until once again he smelled like the depths of the Earth he had just emerged from.
If all was going according to plan, then someone would have laid a trail of blood and
body parts from the town leading up to the mountain for those things to follow, but the rain had most likely washed away any chance of those things being able to follow the blood trail up the mountain, so he would need to get closer to town if he wanted to find one soon. Che started heading down the trail in the direction he knew they would be coming from and figured it would only be a matter of time before he ran into one. The wind was favorable to his intended direction, and he was making good time.
Not that anyone was out and about, but if someone had been, they would have seen a very filthy yet agile naked man moving at a remarkable speed for how silent he was being. That is, if they could have seen him at all.
The moon was hiding behind a layer of clouds now, diffusing the light and giving the mountainside an almost a dreamlike appearance, softening somewhat the harsh reality of the situation Che was facing.
There was movement ahead.
Che froze in his tracks seamlessly and effortlessly disappearing into the brush, where he waited patiently, ready to spring his trap.
Che began to count down the seconds.
One Thousand One.
One Thousand Two.
One Thousand Three.
One Thousand Four.
It was a young girl. The skin would be soft, but no way would there be enough for what he needed. Che was about to reveal himself and put the thing down when he noticed more movement behind her. It was a larger male. He would work just fine. There was plenty of undamaged skin on him to make his suit, or at least a mask.
Che waited for the small girl to get closer, then lunged at her with a rock, bashing her skull into pieces. He then turned to face the larger male walker who was making directly towards him. Che stepped aside as the male dropped to his knees and began to feast on the exposed brains of the undead child.
It was almost too easy. Che did not understand those that had a problem hunting these things. Once you understood the nature of the beast you were hunting, it was easy. Besides, it was not like they were fighting back.
Che flashed back to Vietnam, then quickly pushed it from his thoughts. He had spent enough time there. He was not going back. Not even in his mind.
The green bedroom on the second floor of the farmhouse was filled with beautiful furniture from a bygone era. Ilsa had always thought that the scalloped carvings and cabriole legs richly appointed in gold leaf belonged in a French palace or the home of a rich aristocrat, and not the home of a simple farmer. But with that son-of-a-bitch handcuffed in the living room below, Ilsa understood now that Coop was not just a rich, old farmer.
Ilsa looked at herself in the mirror and took a deep breath. Tonight was going to be more complicated than she had originally thought. Way more complicated. Ilsa adjusted her breasts and gave herself a seductive look, then smiled. She still had it.
Ilsa could hear the stairs from the foyer creak as Cooper made his way up to the bedroom. It was one of the things she loved about the house. Advance notice. She adjusted her hair one last time as Cooper entered the room.
“Sorry, I just wanted to make sure he didn’t hit his head when he passed out, “ Cooper explained.
“How long do you think he’ll be unconscious?” she asked, as gently as she could. Clearly his presence bothered Coop immensely, and she did not want to irritate him.
“He’ll be down for about forty-five minutes. Unless I choose to wake him earlier with the antidote.”
“Coop, what’s going on? Why do you have U.S. Marshals protecting you? Are you somehow involved in all of this? These things?” Ilsa began to tremble slightly and tears welled up in her eyes. “Coop, please tell me, is the world coming to an end?”
“The world coming to an end? No, the world will be just fine. Civilization, well, as they say in France, c’est la vie. But don’t worry Ilsa, when you look at things from a bigger perspective—the history of the human race as a whole for instance— plagues happen all the time. Somehow, a few humans always manage to survive. Those humans go on and build a better world.”
“I’m scared.”
Cooper embraced Ilsa, pulling her closer and wiping away her tears.
“Don’t be afraid. You will be just fine. That is why I brought you here tonight. I will protect you and the baby from everything. Chaos exists outside, and will for some time, but you’re safe here. I promise.”
Ilsa began to regain her composure as they sat on the edge of the bed.
“Thank you,” said Ilsa.
“No, thank you,” Cooper replied softly. “The last two years have been…well…I don’t even have words for it. They escape me. Expensive comes to mind.”
They both laugh at the joke.
Cooper opened the bottle of champagne and poured two glasses.
“Are you sure? I think maybe I’ve already had too much.”
“One more glass isn’t going to hurt the baby. Besides, if he’s going to live in this new world, he’s going to have to be a lot tougher than that, anyway,” Cooper rubbed Ilsa’s stomach.
“You know you can’t feel anything yet? It’s way too early for that.”
“He can feel me,” Cooper replied reflectively. There was a long moment of silence.
“Is that man here to arrest you? Are you involved in all of this somehow? Is that why he is here?” Ilsa reluctantly asked.
“No. He is alone. If the Agency knew I was here, they would have sent a team to kill me.”
“A team? Are you that dangerous?” She sounded impressed.
“Man is the most dangerous animal on the planet. When hunting such an animal, once must always take precautions. When hunting a man, a team would most definitely be prudent.”
“Why did he come alone then?”
“There could only be one reason an Agency man would have to track me down solo. If he is alone, then he is here for my treasure. He is here for that.”
“Do you really have a treasure?”
“How else do you think I could keep paying for all our dates the last two years?” Cooper grinned.
“I don’t know. I just thought you got rich on Social Security money.”
They both laughed out loud. Cooper finished his glass of champagne in one large gulp before standing up and setting his empty glass on the table.
“I have a treasure, but I can assure you, it is not the type you are thinking. You will be safe here Ilsa, I promise. I have to leave now, but I won’t be gone long.”
“Where are you going?” Ilsa asked, with concern in her voice.
“I’ve got a job to do.”
“Why can’t I go with you?”
“You can’t be a part of this anymore than you already are because of the baby. It’s too dangerous for you. You must protect the baby. That is your only concern now. That baby will keep you safe in the years to come. I promise you.”
Ilsa nodded in understanding and began to tear up.
“What have you done? Please don’t lie to me.” Isla pleaded with him to answer her directly.
“I did what needed to be done.”
“Did you cause all of this?”
“Did I cause all of this? No, I did not cause all of this! I did not create it, nor did I weaponize it. The Agency did. Well, not created, but they learned how to contain it. How to weaponize it.”
“So this is the result of some sort of chemical weapon?”
“No, not chemical. This is an advanced biological weapon. A weaponized virus.”
“So this is where it ends.”
“No, this is not where it ends. This is where it begins. It begins all over again. Like it has countless times in the past. Trust me, the planet will be better off with humans back in the food chain. But you should not be concerning yourself with any of this. Stress is not good for the baby.”
“Why Coop? Why did you do this? Why now?”
“Why now? Simple. I can’t let my baby grow up in this world. This world of half-wits and dip-shits. He deserves better than that. The ocean already has more plastic than plankton fl
oating in it. More than ninety percent of the big fish are gone. The ocean is literally dying. Collapsing. Do you understand the implications of that? The bottom of the global eco-food system is collapsing. Man-made chemicals and pharmaceuticals are found in almost every drop of water on the planet. Ninety-eight percent of native forests are gone, ninety-nine percent of all native grasslands are gone, ninety-nine percent of all native wetlands are gone. Tell me, Ilsa, how should I judge mankind? By what standard? By whose standard? Whose standard should we use? Do we use Mankind’s standards or the rest of the Animal Kingdom? At what point is it time for someone to say enough is enough? Shall we ask the Passenger Pigeon what his vote is? What about the Caribbean Monk Seal? Does he get a vote? No Ilsa, I have looked all around in every direction, and I see no sign of redeemability in mankind. No sign of hope for the future. No sign of hope for my child. Not without something drastic. This is the last, best hope for man on this Earth. If mankind won’t change their destructive ways on their own, then we must act on behalf of the planet and force them to take that first step back into the natural world. Force mankind back into the food chain, not above it.”
“I’m not feeling so good.”
Cooper looked at his watch, wondering what was taking the poison he put into her tea so long to take effect.
“Maybe you should lie down.”
“Cooper, what are you going to do to that man downstairs?”
“I need to find out the truth. I need to find out if he is Agency, or if he really is just some dip-shit Deputy-do-good U.S. Marshal who is here to try and rescue me.”
“Coop, I’m scared.”
“Don’t be, everything is under control. You will be safe. I promise. I love you.”
And the fog rolled in thick.
Ilsa was out, but not completely out, and she had no sense of time, nor could she open her eyes or move a muscle, but she could hear screams and pleading. Was this a nightmare? Or was it real?
Her entire reality was quickly turning into a nightmare anyway, so did it really matter either way?
Screams of pain from somewhere far off in the distance…
Genesis Page 6
