Plague War p-2

by Jeff Carlson

  “Dr. Goldman?” Estey said, and the USAF colonel hollered, “Stop that woman!” The busy people clotted around her. Two men and a woman caught her arms, one of them dropping a handful of printouts on the †oor. A fourth soldier rose from his seat with his headset cockeyed around his neck.

  “Let go of me!”

  “Sergeant? What’s going on?” The colonel directed his words at Estey instead of Ruth. It was another way of containing her, she realized.

  “Sir, I’m not sure,” Estey said, but he gestured at the glass of‚ce. None of the people inside had noticed them yet. “I think she was just trying to talk to the governor,” Estey said.

  “That’s right,” Ruth said.

  The colonel stared at her. “You don’t go anywhere I don’t tell you. Understand?”

  “Yes. I’m sorry.”

  “They’ll join us in a minute,” the colonel said. “I’m taking you to a spare of‚ce.”

  “Okay. Yes.” No, she thought. Ruth wanted to be in the heart of their operations when she spoke with Shaug and his generals. If there was any hope of silencing her, they would take it. She couldn’t afford to be isolated.

  She got lucky. The governor ‚nally noticed the disruption out in the main room. He strode to the glass door of the of‚ce. Perfect. As he pushed through he lifted his hand, hello, not understanding the situation. A man in a blue uniform walked after him and then a woman in Army green.

  The soldiers released her. For a moment, Ruth was free. One of them bent to gather his printouts from the †oor, and the data tech returned to his seat. Ruth yanked her cell phone from her pocket. “Stop right there,” she said. She pointed the small black plastic casing at Shaug like a gun, yelling now as the soldiers converged on her again. “Stop!”

  They came very close to taking her down. The data tech froze with his hand on her sleeve. Another man stood at her shoulder, and the colonel had drawn his pistol. They couldn’t know what she intended, but in the twenty-‚rst century, a phone could be a weapon. A phone could trigger explosives or signal troops.

  “Everyone get back,” Ruth said. She turned slightly to aim her ‚st at the data tech, stepping away from him and the other man, creating a thin space for herself in the crowd. “Listen to me. The war is over.”

  They didn’t hear her. “Put it down,” the colonel said, and Shaug called, “What are you doing?”

  Other conversations continued in the room. Except for a few men and women immediately beside her, the soldiers were absorbed with their work, and Ruth wondered how many lives she’d already jeopardized across the U.S. by interrupting radio calls. One girl remained at her console, talking into her headset even as she watched Ruth’s face. “That’s a roger, Jay Three. Expect them on your north side,” the girl said.

  Ruth winced and clenched her ‚st again on her cell phone. She needed to steady herself. “The war is over,” she said. “I’m forcing a truce.”

  “You can’t,” Shaug began.

  “Put it down.” The colonel aimed his gun in her face. Three other soldiers had pulled their sidearms, but Ruth continued to hold up her phone.

  “It’s the only way,” she said.

  The colonel racked the slide of his 9mm Beretta without pointing it away from her ‚rst, chambering a shell. Ruth felt herself go white as something in her chest lurched — heart, lungs. “I’m not warning you again,” the colonel said.

  Estey stepped in front of her. “Wait.” He’d lifted his arms from his sides, making himself bigger as he walked into the muzzle of the colonel’s gun.

  Goodrich did the same on her other side. “Everyone just wait,” he said, increasing the safe zone around her.

  Ruth was astonished. She had wondered long and hard why Cam asked these three to escort her and only these three, excluding Ballard and Mitchell. She wouldn’t have thought that Estey could let go of his authority, and yet Cam had been very right about him, his exhaustion and his grief. Estey wanted to believe that she knew some way out.

  Foshtomi acted alone. Foshtomi grabbed Ruth’s hair and spun her sideways, chopping her arm down on Ruth’s hand. She knocked Ruth’s phone into the row of computer consoles. Then she slammed Ruth’s hip and shoulder blades down onto the hard shapes of the desk, a keyboard, two card cases, and a PDA.

  “No,” Foshtomi said. Her lovely face was twisted with fury as she cocked one ‚st high behind her own ear. Ruth tried to block it and missed. Foshtomi’s knuckles glanced off her teeth, cracking her skull back against the messy surface of the console.

  Goodrich clawed at Foshtomi, but he was dragged back by another man. Estey didn’t even get that close. One of the other soldiers clubbed Estey with his pistol and Estey banged into an overturned chair.

  “Wait—” Ruth coughed, spitting blood.

  “You crazy bitch. We died for you,” Foshtomi shouted, and it was true. Wesner. Park. Somerset. Ruth didn’t know how many more had been hurt or killed with Hernandez in the ground assaults out of Sylvan Mountain, but that number must be in the thousands. They were exactly why she was here.

  “Nanotech,” Ruth said.

  Foshtomi only struggled to hit her again, wrestling with the men who’d surrounded them. “No!” Foshtomi yelled, not at the soldiers but still trying to deny Ruth. Cam had misjudged her— maybe because she was cute. Maybe she’d never invested as much hope in Ruth as the rest of them. It didn’t matter. Foshtomi’s left hand was snarled in the front of Ruth’s shirt, bumping and pulling at the buttons Ruth had altered with liquid glass, creating miniscule air bubbles against the plastic.

  “I’m wearing nanotech!” Ruth screamed. “Get her off! Get her off me now!”

  The USAF colonel threw Foshtomi aside but leaned into her place himself. He pressed his weapon against the underside of Ruth’s jaw, forcing her head back. She was too scared to hold still. She tried to pat at her shirt to see if the buttons were there and the colonel immobilized her wrist with his other hand, bent over her body and the computer console. He twisted her arm — her bad arm — and Ruth cried out. Then someone else caught her other hand. She saw Estey pinned to the computers beside her, a submachine gun at the back of his head. No less than a dozen USAF commandos stood behind the colonel, and yet Ruth grinned at them over the smooth-edged bulk of his pistol.

  “Let me up,” she said.

  “Where is Cam!?” Foshtomi yelled, imprisoned herself by three soldiers. “Where’s her friend?”

  “The war is over,” Ruth told them, bleeding and desperate. She licked at the coppery warm gore on her lips as if the wounds belonged to someone else. She was even glad for the pain, because it hurt less than the ice in her heart. “Listen to me,” she said. “There’s no other way. I have nanotech that will push the Chinese all the way back to California, but unless you do exactly what I say it’ll kill our side, too.”

  The colonel did not release her, although he glanced down at her shirt. “Oh, shit,” he said.

  Ruth Goldman had turned traitor again.

  * * * *

  “Why are you doing this?” Shaug asked, and General Caruso said, “Think what you’re doing. It’s not too late. We could use this to surprise them.”

  “No.” Ruth tried to hold still in her chair. She wanted to project only strength, but she couldn’t get comfortable. Her back was covered with bruises. Her lips were torn and swollen. A medic had treated her quickly, putting one stitch in her upper lip and then covering it with gauze and tape. The bandage felt awkward against her nose. She kept lifting her good hand to ‚dget with it.

  “If we had time to coordinate,” Caruso said. “If you just gave us a few days.”

  “No.” Ruth was anxious, but that worked in her favor. They were jumpy, too, because she held one of the buttons between her ‚nger and thumb. With every gesture, they †inched.

  Shaug had been the ‚rst to recover after the colonel let her up. We can get someone to take care of you, he’d suggested. He wanted to move her into the glass-walled of‚ce, but Ruth d
eclined. She needed witnesses. She needed the leadership to have as little control over this information as possible.

  The data tech who’d joined the struggle was back at his console, and the girl beside him never stopped talking into her headset, coordinating with ‚ghter teams out over Nevada. Everywhere in the large room, people had returned to their tasks — but they were aware of Ruth. The din of voices continued to lull. They were talking about her. Some of them had heard what she’d said. They told the rest, and from here the truth would eventually reach U.S. and Canadian populations up and down the Continental Divide. From here, she could reach the enemy.

  “This is treason,” Caruso said.

  This is the real start of it, Ruth thought. Not the bombing. Not the invasion. Today. This is peace.

  The pride she felt was inescapable. It burned brightly inside her, competing with her fear and her shame, because more people would die because she hadn’t been able to do this sooner. Her anguish reminded her of her time in Nevada, thirsty and hyper-aware of her connection with everything around her.

  Everything she’d done in thirty-six years had led her to this point. All of the false turns and mistakes seemed not to be mistakes in the end. Each discovery had added to her skill set, no matter how small. This was the reason for her life.

  She badly wanted to convince these men of it, but if necessary she would force them instead.

  “I want that cell line open,” she said.

  “You haven’t thought this all the way through,” Shaug said, trying again to distract her.

  “Open that cell line now. Are you listening to me? If I don’t talk to my friends in the next twenty minutes, the nanotech will hit us ‚rst. It’ll work in the enemy’s favor. Please. Put me on the phone.”

  The command bunker was too far down. Her phone was useless, but she knew they could connect her to the cell towers outside through any of a hundred comm lines. They were dragging their feet. They’d run her request over to a man in the next row of equipment, distancing it from her. Then another soldier came back to say the towers were overloaded and they’d patch her in as soon as they could interrupt the call traf‚c up top.

  They were probably searching for the physical location of the two cell numbers she’d given them. Was that even possible? She had to assume yes. If they couldn’t trace those phones electronically, they would be organizing troops and helicopters. It was a mistake to let them have any more time.

  Ruth got to her feet. “Don’t push me,” she said, looking for Estey and Goodrich. She’d demanded their release and the two Rangers stood nearby.

  Foshtomi was gone. Foshtomi had cursed all three of them until Shaug cut his hand through the air and the USAF commandos led her away, wild with scorn. Why are you helping her? Foshtomi shouted. Goodrich especially seemed to be uncertain. Estey looked straight ahead, nearly holding himself at attention, whereas Goodrich watched the †oor, unable to meet the eyes of the other soldiers gathered in front of them.

  Ruth didn’t doubt that both men regretted what they’d done, but she was hopeful. History was behind them. Today was July 2nd, close enough to the Fourth, the birthday of their nation, and in a very real sense their actions were a revolution. If they could end the war, it meant freedom, not only from the Chinese but from their own leadership.

  “I’m making my calls,” she said.

  Caruso stood up as if to block her way. “We just don’t use the cell network down here,” he said. “We need a few minutes.”

  “No.” Ruth held up her button. Caruso backed off. Then she walked through the dense rows of men and women, doing her best to ignore their faces. Estey had the right idea. These people were hostile and confused, and she couldn’t let any of it affect her. She stopped beside the comm specialist who had been given her numbers. Caruso and Shaug were right behind her, along with Estey and most of the USAF commandos.

  “Goldman!” Shaug said.

  She raised her voice to match. “If I crack this seal, everyone in this room will be breathing nanotech in seconds. Put me on the phone. Now.”

  “It will get you, too,” Shaug said.

  “I knew that when I walked in here.” Ruth blinked suddenly, not wanting him to see her tears — but her honesty rattled them more than any threat.

  “Okay,” Caruso said. “Okay. Just wait.”

  Ruth held two swords at their throats. The tiny glass packets she’d worn into the bunker were only the ‚rst of her weapons, because given the choice, she’d realized there was no choice. She needed to honor the effort and sacri‚ce of people like Hernandez and the Boy Scouts and every nameless soldier who’d died in the attempts to rescue her, even the invaders — even Nikola Ulinov. She wanted to save all of the survivors of the machine plague and the war.

  Ruth had used the great leaps forward she’d found in the new vaccine and the booster, but instead of improving the booster she’d created a very dangerous new ANN, a parasite capable of interfering with and shutting off both versions of the vaccine. Permanently. The parasite had no other effects or functions, but that was enough, forever denying the world below ten thousand feet to anybody it touched. Someone with the parasite inside them would never be able to host the vaccine again. It would ruin the armies spread across the western United States, robbing them of artillery and armor and far too many more lives as they scrambled back to the barrier.

  It would brie†y cause the ‚ghting to intensify. In Utah, the Russians’ only choice would be to charge into the guns of the American positions east of Salt Lake City. In Colorado, the Chinese would face the same problem. Their reserves and supply chains throughout the Southwest would be devastated. The advantage would swing to the United States, and yet that ‚rst day would be horri‚c. The losses on all sides would be crippling.

  Ruth had sworn to do this unless there was a cease-‚re and unconditional withdrawal. Unfortunately, she needed some cooperation. The enemy would take any threat of nanotech seriously, but words alone wouldn’t stop them. There had to be proof, so she’d also designed a second model of the parasite. This one had a strict governor. It would only affect an area the size of a few city blocks, instead of replicating without end.

  It was this second ANN that she’d worn into the bunker. She had also left four capsules of it for them to ‚nd in her lab. They would need jets equipped with missiles that had been stripped of explosives, carrying only the nanotech — and even as America announced its ultimatum, they could hit four places deep inside enemy lines, delivering incontrovertible evidence of the parasite’s strength.

  There were too many details for it to be done instantly. Ruth expected to have to push them every step of the way, holding Grand Lake hostage for hours or days. That was the real reason for the ‚rst, ungoverned version of the parasite. This morning Cam and Deborah had both left the mountaintop with capsules full of billions of the parasite, running in opposite directions. They would disperse it on Ruth’s command or if anyone found and cornered them, or if she failed to make contact at all.

  “Call the eight four six number ‚rst,” she said, studying the complicated radio console. “Give me your headset.” If they had someone tap the line, she wouldn’t know, but she didn’t want to be on an open microphone.

  The comm specialist obeyed. He punched in the number and Ruth heard a normal telephone ring tone, once, twice. It was a stranger who answered. “Burridge,” a man said, and Ruth went cold.

  She yanked the headset away with her bad hand. “This is the wrong number,” she said, whirling on the specialist.

  “No, ma’am. It’s correct.”

  “Burridge,” the man repeated as Ruth pressed the earpiece back against the side of her head, breathing deep in an attempt to control her panic. My God, she thought. Lord God. He was a soldier or an intelligence agent. Ruth knew they answered calls with their last name, so she responded the same way.

  “This is Goldman,” she said, testing him.

  “We have your friend in custody, Dr. Goldman.
And the nanotech. We—”

  “Let me talk to her.”

  “We know where the other man went—”

  “Let me talk to her!” Ruth shouted. The triumph on Shaug’s face made her †ush with rage. She nearly snapped the glass pack in her ‚ngers. Instead, she looked away and inadvertently found Estey. His mouth was open with fear. He understood.

  Without the outside threat, Ruth would not be able to control them. Even if she infected the people inside this bunker, they were already trapped by their duties here. They could quarantine themselves. It had always been a weak threat to tell them they’d have to stay, and Ruth sagged as Estey rushed to hold her arm. My God.

  Finally, Deborah Reece came on the line with none of her usual arrogance. “Ruth, I,” she said. “Ruth, I’m sorry. You can’t do this.”

  * * * *

  Deborah had been uncertain. That was why Ruth called her ‚rst. She didn’t worry about Cam, but the look in Deborah’s eyes still lingered in her mind. When she passed over the vials she’d smuggled out of the lab, Deborah had closed her ‚ngers on the small plastic capsules as if to hide them. This doesn’t seem right, Deborah said, and Ruth covered her friend’s hand with own. We can stop the war, Ruth said, but she hadn’t been able to say enough.

  Deborah had turned herself in.

  * * * *

  “It’s over,” Shaug said, gesturing for the headset.

  Ruth stepped back from him. “You don’t have my other guy,” she said. She’d almost used his name. Maybe she still should. Foshtomi had immediately guessed who was helping her and it might improve her stance if they knew who held the parasite— one of the few men who’d walked out of Sacramento. “Make the call,” she said. “You’re short on time.”

  “We’ll ‚nd him,” Shaug said.

  “I don’t care. If he pops the capsule, that’s it. The nanotech hits us ‚rst. You lose everyone who’s evacuated and every forward unit across the Rockies.”

  Caruso grimaced. “This is insane.”

  “Make the call,” Ruth said to the comm specialist before she turned to Shaug and Caruso again. “Don’t you get it? If you do it my way, the Chinese retreat. We win. Please.” She stared into their faces. “Please.”