Fever!

by David Achord

  “Yep. He’s going to have a look around and gather some intel, but when the time comes, he’ll be there for us.”

  “How?” Justin asked.

  I shrugged. “He didn’t say.”

  “He’s only wearing that jacket and hat. It’s going to be cold tonight.”

  “The jacket is called a duster, and he’s wearing his winter hat. It’s made of felt, or maybe wool. Anyway, it’s a Resistol, which is a damn good hat. He found it on a dead truck driver. He loves that hat. He’ll be fine.”

  Justin stared at me like I was creating some kind of elaborate joke.

  “What about the duster?” he asked sarcastically.

  I glanced at him. “Well, you didn’t hear it from me, but I think he found it at a gay clothing boutique, but I’m not sure. He got Sammy one just like it. It’s a great jacket to wear if you’re riding a horse. I’ll have to admit, I was a little jealous when he gave that coat to Sammy and he didn’t have one for me.”

  Now, Justin scoffed.

  “So, he’s going to stay out all night and sneak into Fort Detrick without anyone knowing about it,” he said.

  “Yep.”

  “And he didn’t say how?” he asked.

  “Nope.”

  Suddenly, I saw two zeds walking down the middle of the road. “Well, would you look at this,” I said. I hit the gas in an attempt to run them over, but the zeds deftly jogged out of the way.

  “Well, that was interesting,” I said as I slammed on the brakes and parked. I grabbed my machete before jumping out and giving chase.

  “Damn it, Zach!” I heard Justin shout as I ran toward the zeds.

  They weren’t your normal, old school zeds. If they were old zeds, they would’ve only been able to run at a loping gate. These two charged me at a full sprint, and even spread out so they’d hit me from two sides. I charged at the one on the left. He lunged at me with his arms outstretched. It prevented me from chopping at his head, but I ducked, sidestepped, and swung the machete across one of his legs. The machete cut deep, severing muscle and tendon. It wasn’t a killing blow, but it slowed him down.

  I ran in a wide circle and worked my way back to the second zed, who was trying to chase me down. A quick swipe with the machete severed the left side of his neck. I worked the machete out as he tried to reach for me and hit again. The second strike severed his spinal cord. He dropped to the ground, but wasn’t finished. He continued to gnash at me as I struck the death blow, decapitating him.

  The first zed I attacked was undaunted and made his way toward me while dragging his injured leg. I executed the old classic tomahawk chop. My machete buried itself in his skull, coming to rest between his eyebrows. I hastily looked around for any other zeds as I worked the machete free, but the only thing I saw was Justin, standing there with his arms crossed, staring at me like I was crazy.

  “Was that really necessary?” he asked.

  I looked at the two dead zeds before looking at him. “I believe it was.”

  “I really wonder about you sometimes,” he said as we walked back to the deuce. “You and Joker get off on this shit.”

  I shrugged. I couldn’t disagree with him.

  “If you’re through, why don’t we get going,” he suggested.

  “Yep, sounds good,” I said.

  We drove up to the front gate of Fort Detrick ten minutes later. The guard post was actually manned, which surprised me. It was Stretch. I killed the engine and rolled down the window as Stretch walked up.

  “This is unexpected,” Stretch said.

  “Yeah, I imagine so,” I said. “We wanted it to be a surprise.” I expected her to open the gate immediately, but she didn’t do it.

  “I have to call it in,” she said.

  I gave her a look. “Is there a reason why I’m not allowed admittance to a facility which Captain Smithson and I personally helped secure?” I asked. I pointed at the line of Gabion barriers. “You know who helped assemble and fill those up don’t you?” I asked and pointed at Justin and myself.

  “I’m only following orders, Zach,” she replied. “Nobody is allowed entry without General Fosswell’s okay.”

  I sighed and waited for her to get on the phone, the same phone system I helped get operational. After a long couple of minutes, we were graciously allowed to enter.

  “Sorry, Zach,” Stretch said as I drove past. As an afterthought, she saluted Justin.

  I parked the deuce at the loading docks of their main building. Shooter and a couple of others walked out and greeted me.

  “Why are you two here?” he asked.

  “Because we’ve missed you,” I replied.

  Shooter scoffed. “Yeah, right. Really, why are you here? General Fosswell just called and is asking.”

  “I told Stretch why we’re here,” I said and gestured at the back of the truck. “We brought supplies.”

  “Yeah, well, he thinks y’all have some kind of other motive and insisted I follow up. Help a brother out here,” he said.

  “I had some follow-up questions for the scientists. The weather was pleasant enough, so Captain Smithson and I thought we’d drive up and deliver some supplies. That’s a good thing, right?”

  “Yeah, I guess so,” he replied.

  “Is there a problem with us being here?” I asked. “There never used to be. Is something going on?”

  Shooter involuntarily looked behind him, as if he were being spied on or something. “No, it’s just, well, the general is, well, you know.”

  No, I didn’t know, but I nodded as if I did. “Alright, tell the general we have supplies and I wanted to get an update from the doctors about the infected woman they have. Nothing more.”

  “Okay. How long will you two be staying?” he asked.

  “Overnight,” I said. “We’re heading back first thing in the morning.”

  I waited until Shooter walked back to the little office in the motor pool and got on the landline before looking over at Justin. “If you have this, I want to hustle over to the labs and talk with the docs before Fosswell intervenes.”

  “Yeah, I got it. How long do you need?” he asked.

  “Hmm, two hours. I’ll meet you in their cafeteria.”

  I left him and headed to the labs. When I walked in, all four of the docs were sitting in their office. They were chatting and laughing about something, but immediately became silent when they spotted me. Doctor Smeltzer was the only one who actually smiled in greeting.

  “Hello,” I said.

  “Ah, Zach, what brings you to Fort Detrick?” Smeltzer asked.

  “You guys,” I said with a placating smile. “How about an update on the infected woman?”

  I proceeded to have a long conversation with the four of them. They enthusiastically told me of their testing and observations of the infected woman. Their experimentations were limited, nothing invasive, and nothing dire. They’d trained her to change out her smock every day, but occasionally, she still took a crap in the corner of her cell rather than in the toilet.

  The conversation was relaxed, casual. There was no harsh language, no subterfuge. It was like old friends gathering together. I guess it helped that I did not once mention the sabotaged vaccines.

  After spending the day with them, Justin and I ate dinner with the Detrick populace and updated them on the current gossip and goings on of Mount Weather. We even engaged in a poker tournament in which the winner was awarded a baked chicken. Neither of us won. It wasn’t our intention to. Of all people, Shooter was the ultimate winner. I congratulated him wholeheartedly.

  After, I bid goodnight and went to the dorm room. I waited until after midnight, when I was certain everyone had gone to bed, before exiting the dorms and making my way down the hall. I gave a quiet, reluctant knock on his door. After a moment, there was a response.

  “Who the hell is it?” came his gruff voice through the door.

  “It’s Zach Gunderson,” I replied.

  After a moment, I heard the deadb
olt turn. He opened the door a couple of inches and peered out. I could see pillow marks on his face, but he was awake and alert. I could also clearly see a Beretta in his hand. If he was surprised to see me, he didn’t show it. Instead of surprise, there was a look of suspicion.

  “Sorry to disturb you so late, sir, but I have something important here that’s been causing me no small amount of anxiety,” I said as I gestured with the laptop in my hands.

  “Can’t this wait until morning?” he asked.

  I looked down at the floor with my best dejected expression. “I suppose it can. Sorry, sir.” I turned away and got five steps down the hall when he stopped me, like I knew he would.

  “Just a moment, Gunderson,” he said.

  I stopped and turned. He spent a moment looking me over, his military instincts performing a threat assessment. I was wearing a plain white T-shirt and baggy shorts. I completed the ensemble with a blanket draped around my shoulders. The blanket looked natural because the man still insisted on keeping the temperature uncomfortably low. I looked about as nonthreatening as I could.

  “This better be good,” he said and motioned me inside. I walked in and stood, holding my laptop, waiting on him. His room was a spartan suite, except for an expensive-looking leather chair in front of a standard government-issue desk. He sat in the chair, not bothering to invite me to sit, and put the sidearm in his lap. I guess he thought I was not going to be here long enough for it to necessitate any formalities.

  “Alright, out with it,” he directed.

  I opened the laptop and punched a few buttons. I then placed the laptop on his desk and slid it across to him.

  “Check this out,” I said.

  He glared at me a moment before putting a pair of reading glasses on and peering closer.

  “What am I supposed to be looking at?” he asked.

  “It’s the results of the DNA test from that infected woman we picked up in Ohio, the real results, not the ones given to President Stark.”

  He scowled at me. “And it was so important you wanted me to see it now?”

  “Yes, sir, that’s part of it, but the most important thing is this.” I reached over and simultaneously hit the alt and tab buttons. The screen changed over to a Word document Grace had shown me.

  “What is this?” he asked.

  “A journal of your sins,” I said.

  He looked at me in slight confusion before glancing back down at the laptop’s screen for a long minute. His scowl deepened as he read. It took another minute before he trained the scowl back at me.

  “Where did you get this nonsense?” he demanded.

  “A sweet computer nerd located it for me at my request,” I said.

  He scoffed and slammed the computer shut. “Well, maybe you should fire her. I’ve never stored a journal in a confounded computer.”

  “I didn’t say it was your journal,” I replied. “It belongs to your son. He’d documented everything you’ve done over the years, including your latest act, which was sabotaging the Ohio vaccines.” I scrutinized him with my own harsh expression. “You blamed him, but it was you who was the person behind all of it.”

  His expression changed ever so slightly now and he pointed to a steel folding chair. I pulled it over to where I was directly across from him and sat. In his mind, I’m sure he thought he was in control. After all, we were in his domain. And, more importantly, he was armed and I wasn’t. What he did not realize is he’d already given me what I needed, a tacit confession. If he told me any details, so much the better, but I now knew the documents the late Harlan Fosswell Junior had in his file were factual, and not made up in an attempt to besmirch his father. The general leaned forward in his chair.

  “What the hell are you after, Gunderson?”

  I matched his stare. “I want to know why.”

  “Why?” he asked in a demanding tone. “Why what?”

  “Why did you do it? Why did you purposely infect all of those people? Why do you think everyone should die?”

  “Not everyone,” he replied. “The righteous shall survive, but the unworthy deserve to die.”

  “Please explain. I want to understand.”

  He stared a moment. I guess he was deciding whether I was worthy of an explanation.

  “Let me ask you, have you read the Bible?”

  “I have.”

  “But, do you understand it?” he asked.

  “Somewhat,” I answered. “I admit there are parts that are confusing, there are parts I may have misinterpreted, and there are parts which I’m convinced are nothing more than tall tales.”

  “And the Book of Revelations?” he asked, but did not wait for an answer. “We are living in the apocalypse. God’s apocalypse.”

  He gave a grim, furrowed smile. “You are interfering with God’s plan. You are all interfering with God’s plan.”

  “How? By creating a vaccine and saving lives?”

  “Yes, Gunderson, by creating a vaccine and saving the lives of people whom God intended should die.”

  “Tell me, General, how do you determine who gets to live and who is condemned to die?”

  Fosswell chuckled. “Oh, you naïve young man. What makes you think I make the decisions? I don’t make the decisions, only God makes the decisions.”

  “How do you know that? Does he talk to you or something?” I asked.

  “Oh yes, he speaks to me in many ways. Ways in which you would not understand. Ways in which you would never understand.”

  I sneered. “Yeah, you’re not making any sense, but I didn’t expect you to.”

  “I had mixed feelings about you, Gunderson. God truly intended for you to live, this is obvious, and yet, you have repeatedly chosen to go against his will. I cannot allow this to continue.”

  He started to reach for his gun, but he encountered a problem. In the blink of an eye, I was holding my own gun on him. I’d had it all along, hidden by my blanket in the waistband of my pants. He probably should have searched me.

  “The next thing I want to see is your hand slowly coming up from behind that desk, empty. You have one second.”

  He complied with a smirk and placed both of his hands on the desk. I smiled back, made a show of visibly relaxing, and held my gun casually.

  “I was told to never underestimate you, Gunderson. I should have heeded that advice,” he said.

  “And I never underestimated you,” I replied. “But, what I can’t understand is you.”

  “How so?” he asked.

  “I’ve read your personnel file. Top of your class at West Point, highly decorated, one of the youngest one-star generals in the last fifty years. You were damn near perfect. How and why you turned into a total religious nutjob?”

  His smile turned to a smirk. “It’s called enlightenment, Gunderson. You said you’ve read the Bible, but you don’t even realize you have no understanding of it. I’ve read it many times throughout my life and have immersed myself in theology. All of the answers are in the Bible.”

  “You mention the Bible and God. Let me remind you what King Solomon said. Righteousness exalts a nation, but sin is a disgrace to any people.”

  His eyes narrowed and he started to surreptitiously slide his right hand off of the desk.

  “What do you think you’re going to do now, Gunderson, kill me?” he asked. He started gesticulating with his left hand while he inched his hand slightly more toward his lap. I maintained eye contact with him.

  “Yes,” I said. “Because of our past history, and the respect I once had for you, I was going to put you in the brig and let President Stark figure out what to do with you, but I can see you’d never go for that.”

  He barked out a laugh. “You are correct, Gunderson. Besides, do you really think President Stark will abide by this nonsense?”

  He laughed again and his hand moved again.

  “There is something you should know, General,” I said.

  “What might that be, Gunderson?”

  �
��Stark is the one who gave the order.”

  His eyes widened as he realized what I meant. Then, a change came over him and his eyes glazed over.

  “And when he had opened the fifth seal, I saw under the altar the souls of them that were slain for the word of God, and for the testimony which they held, and they cried with a loud voice, saying, how long, O Lord, holy and true, dost thou not judge and avenge our blood on them that dwell on the earth?”

  He was practically shouting now. And then, his right hand ducked down into his lap.

  He’d forgotten, or never knew, that I’d been trained by the best. The first bullet struck him on the bridge of the nose, causing it to burst in a spray of crimson. The second bullet, which was perhaps a hundredth of a second after the first bullet, was a mere fraction of an inch higher. Like I said, I was trained by the best.

  I stared at him in silence for a couple of minutes before standing and searching his room. He had no computer, but there were several files in his desk drawer of printed reports. Interestingly, one file had my name on it. I held off reading it and found an empty olive drab canvass satchel sitting beside his desk. I scooped up the files and stuffed them into the satchel before giving him one, final last look.

  He had not moved from his chair. His left hand was still on the desk and the right hand was in his lap, clutching the Beretta. His head was leaning back, causing his lifeless eyes to stare heavenward. Like I said, I once had a deep respect for the man.

  When I emerged from the general’s room, Fred was standing a few feet down the hallway, casually leaning against the wall. I had no idea how he had gotten into Fort Detrick without being spotted, but he did. When we made eye contact, he gave me a micro.

  Chapter 37 – Change of Command

  Justin was sawing logs in the dorm room when I walked in. I gently shook his foot and he instantly bolted upright. It took him a second to recognize Fred and me.

  “It’s done,” I said.

  “He’s in custody?” he asked as he rubbed his eyes.

  I shook my head slowly. “We knew he wouldn’t go along with that.”

  He stared at me a moment and then nodded somberly.