The room was empty except for a single table and a mirror on the wall. Immediately Scott thought of every police procedural movie or television show he had ever seen. This room looked like an interrogation room—even the mirror was a two-way mirror, and Scott couldn’t help but wonder who was on the other side.
“Wait—” Scott called, but Jessie had already closed the door behind him, the sound of a deadbolt sliding into place.
On the table was a stack of papers and a single pencil. Unsharpened.
Without knowing what else to do, Scott pulled the chair out, sat down, and began to flip through the pages—scanning the content quickly, his leg bouncing—and he noticed that it was some type of personality test.
1. Your friend is an artist. She has worked on a painting for two years. One afternoon, she asks you to come over and take a look at the finished product. Upon entering her studio, you realize that you hate the painting and think it is horrible. How do you respond?
A. Lie. Your criticism won’t impact the final product and it will only hurt her feelings.
B. Tell the truth. She has a right to know.
C. Be vague and supportive. Do not lie, but do not tell the truth. Issue statements that could be deemed as praise, but dance around the issue.
Scott looked at the pencil and exhaled through his nose. Then he opened up his own briefcase and took out his own pen. Then his hand hovered over two of the choices before he circled ‘C’ and went on to the next question. Flipping to the final page, Scott noted that he had 199 questions to go.
A game. Did they want him to wait for instructions? Did they want him to take control?
With a long glance at the mirror, Scott shed his suit jacket, loosened his paisley tie, and got to work.
Huck Truman was short and stocky with a full head of gray hair and a well-trimmed goatee. Scott estimated that he was in his mid-sixties, early seventies, but it was hard to tell. After his two-hour stint in the windowless cell, filling in answers, and growing thirsty, tired, and restless, Jessie moved him into Huck’s office—a sprawling room with simple décor and a gorgeous view.
The older man sat back in a black swivel chair and flipped through the pages of the personality test while giving small sounds of approval and thoughtful consideration. “Interesting, yes. Of course, of course.”
It was hour three. The armpits of Scott’s shirt felt damp and his eyes were bleary; he regarded Huck with curious disdain.
He had tried to engage Huck in dialogue about the company, but was silenced with a wave. So now he sat uncomfortably, and shifted his weight in the chair.
Then Huck tossed the papers aside and crossed his arms over his charcoal gray suit. “You must be very agitated with me right now,” he said. “I would be. But we must be very careful to assess you to the best of our ability before we introduce you to our work. Usually my son assists me in this process, but he is out today in the field. I like you, Scott King, and I would like to work with you. Would you like to work with us?”
“I don’t—” Scott started. Then he stopped, furrowed his brows. “You haven’t even interviewed me yet. And…frankly…”
“Of course,” Huck interrupted him with a laugh. “We are operating a very private company. Our agenda is quite…unique. You have been handpicked because we believe that you can understand our cause.”
“Renewable and sustainable energy is a good cause,” Scott replied, adopting his patented interviewee tone.
Huck laughed. “Is that what Blair told you? Oh, that girl. Trying so hard to be helpful. She’s not incorrect, but that is only a single component of our work. The entirety of our goal is much larger, so much broader in scope.”
The room was silent and Huck reached into a drawer. He pulled out a red file folder marked CONFIDENTIAL and slid it over to Scott, who reached to open it with his right hand, but Huck’s hand slapped down on the front and held it shut.
“Once you read this, there is no going back. You will know our secrets and the risks are large.”
Scott nodded. He ran through his options in his head, the pros and cons of standing up and leaving. It wasn’t just that he was curious, but that the incentives were attractive. This job could help provide for his growing family in ways he would have never imagined. And honestly, he rationalized, how bad could it be?
“I’m intrigued. I think I’d like to move forward,” Scott replied.
“You’re under no obligation to work with us after I show you this…but I believe that you will want to start your employment immediately.” Huck lifted his hand and Scott picked up the file.
Flipping it open, Scott began to read. His eyes scanned the first page and then the second. There were diagrams and case studies, pictures, and data collections. Scott’s heart began to beat and he felt his blood pressure escalate. It took him a bit to understand what he was looking at. He opened his mouth to ask a question, but Huck put both hands in the air and instructed him to keep reading. So, he read. And read.
He noted pages on: airborne toxins and a virus in the water supply. There were pages and pages of major cities and the open reservoirs that supplied water to tens of thousands of people. Maps. Careful research. An article about pandemics and bioterrorism. Scott was scanning a blueprint of disaster. First, they would poison the crops, then they would poison the water supply. After the military was compromised, they would drop the live virus on cities—crop-dusting people with liquid death. Six cells of tireless terrorists would, if it worked, eliminate the earth’s population in 48 hours.
Scott couldn’t fathom how this avuncular gentleman with the gorgeous daughter in this sky-high building could have anything to do with the proposals he saw outlined before him. Or what the large packet, with an outline on how to implement genocide, had anything to do with his job interview. He laughed nervously and ran his fingers through his hair, a half-grimace, half-smile on his face.
“This is…” he searched for the right word, “…it’s murder. You’re talking about the systemic annihilation of an entire species?”
Huck did not answer.
“Is this a joke?” Scott continued and he tossed the folder back on the desk. “I mean…haha. Right? I feel like such a fool. Is there a hidden camera in here? I’m not a fan of making an idiot out of someone for other people’s amusement.”
He stood up and peered up at the corners, searching for the cameras.
“This is no joke, Mr. King,” Huck said, and he motioned for his guest to sit back down, but Scott didn’t move; he stood lamely, his mind spinning. “I promise you that our plans are not malicious in nature. Freeing, rather.”
“What?” Scott shook his head to clear it and then blinked twice. Putting his hands on his hips, he looked to the floor. “I’m so confused.”
“The Elektos has a mission. To rebuild the earth. We’ve killed it, destroyed it. Everything is in ruin and we have a chance and plan for real change. But that doesn’t happen with our current population…that only happens if we are given a second chance.”
“A second chance?”
“At living.”
“You’re out of your mind. You’re proposing to kill innocent people. Come on, where are the cameras? Now you’re just baiting me. This is good footage. Good footage. Have any scientists agreed to help you? Wow. What a show. What a Goddamn spectacle.” Scott laughed and then reached down to pick up his briefcase, but Huck rose and started speaking, his voice louder than before, more intense, more commanding, and Scott stopped to look at him. With his hand on his briefcase handle, his back bent, he looked at the older man and felt ill.
“Yes,” Huck continued. “War always harms the innocent…it is a byproduct of destruction. But you see…we believe that you have to destroy to rebuild. That’s cliché and yet so very true. I believe you will see that the greater good will prevail and that our end will justify the means.” Huck opened his top desk drawer and took out a wooden box. He then procured a long cigar and, after offering a second one to Scott, he bi
t off the end and then lit it. The sweet smoke stung Scott’s nostrils, and he made another move toward the door, briefcase in hand.
“This is a sick joke. I won’t sign any release form for you to air my reaction on television,” Scott said as he moved to the office door. He grabbed the doorknob and pulled but found it locked. “I’m a private man. A simple scientist. Let me out, please,” he asked in a sincere, calm voice.
“Sit back down.”
“I’d like to leave.”
Still puffing on his cigar, Huck leaned over and turned on a giant flat screen television hung against the far wall of the room. Black and white images clicked on and it took Scott a long moment to realize what he was looking at. A playground, a park—the one near his house, a block away, with the broken tire swing and the plastic slide that turned blisteringly hot in the summertime. He saw Maxine, his wife, a baby on her hip, pushing his twins on swings: one push and then another push, repeat. His thirteen-year-old daughter Lucy sat on a bench several yards away from her mother and siblings and she was hunched over her phone, fingers flying.
Scott took a step toward the screen and without looking at Huck, said, “How did you get this footage?”
“You have a lovely family,” Huck replied. “The footage is live. Here, let me show you.” He leaned down to his desk and punched a button on his phone. “Blair, can you patch this line through to Brandon? Thank you.” He paused and then said, “Brandon, hello. Scott King is here. Could you zoom in on the baby? Harper, right? Just zoom in.”
And the camera on the TV zoomed forward until the screen was filled with his two-year-old daughter’s chubby face. She squealed, although the sound was muted, and Scott felt sick.
“She’s a cutie,” Huck said and smiled. “I have a granddaughter myself. Children are so joyful and amazing. I’m quite fond of them.”
“You’re watching my home? My wife and my kids?”
“We have no other choice,” Huck replied apologetically. Scott looked at him. He was confused by the sadness that permeated the old man’s face. There was guilt in the lines in his forehead and around his eyes; he was tormented, apologetic, but unwavering all the same. “What if you choose to leave? Try to shut our program down? We have to take precautions. There would be consequences…we’ve worked so hard to get to this place and we cannot have the whole thing ruined because we made one single error. One bad call.”
“Don’t you dare hurt them.”
Huck nodded. “Sit Scott,” he motioned again for the chair. “Let’s discuss this like gentlemen.”
Scott’s mouth dropped open. Aghast. “Look. Leave my family out of this. Threatening them won’t make me want to work for you.”
“If you don’t work for us, that’s fine. We’ll find someone else. We won’t find someone better than you, and that’s the truth, but we can replace you. But you saw the date on our proposal. We’re under a time crunch, especially since our last head scientist is no longer with us.”
“Is he dead?” Scott asked wide-eyed. “Good God, did you kill him?”
“Goodness, no.” Huck laughed and he took a long puff. “My colleagues are like family. You’ll see…you will. It’s not what you think. Look, Scott, it’s simple. You work with us and you receive an exceptional advantage. You will get an opportunity to save your family. Think of where your kids will be in four years…that doll right there,” he motioned toward Harper’s smiling face, “will be in kindergarten. Your oldest son, in college. And then one day, the world as they know it will end. They will be heading off to meet friends, walking into a class at school, and…” he lowered his voice to a whisper, sucked on his cigar, blew the smoke outward and said in a cloud of haze: “Extinction.”
Scott felt his blood run cold.
“Of course, you can try to save them on your own,” Huck continued. “But if you are with us, their security is guaranteed. You won’t need to worry, fret, ponder if they will have futures…they will have futures. They can fall in love, have children; all the things you want for your children when you hold them as babies…they will get all of that and more. The world we are building is a world of comfort, safety, and progress. What legacy are you leaving for these kids?”
Scott blinked and waited for Huck’s speech to continue; then he realized Huck wanted a reply. “Oh. A legacy of...” he gulped. “Integrity, I suppose. Love. Honesty. Respect for people and the earth—”
Huck’s hand flew down to the table and hit the wooden surface with force; the bang echoed in the sparsely furnished room. “This world…this world has none of those things. You are fighting a losing battle! But my world will change that. Don’t you truly want those things for your children?”
“I—” Scott couldn’t finish; he felt clammy and in shock. There were no camera crews waiting in the wings; no one was going to watch his reaction with a laugh track dubbed over his dumbfounded expressions.
“So, before you leave today, I want to ask you, Scott King. Are you for the cause?” Huck jammed his cigar into the corner of his mouth and left it there, smoldering.
“No,” Scott answered instantly. “The cause of murder?”
“Change. A future. A baby was killed the other day. Shot…in the face…by a family friend while he and the dad did drugs. Did you hear that story? It was on the news. That is just one story, Scott. One story of darkness and evil and sadness. There is fear everywhere and I’m taking it back. I want to live in kindness, honesty, truth. None of that exists in this world. None of it.”
Scott wiped his brow. He had heard the story of the baby. It was disgusting. Like any parent, his thoughts had gone to his own children and their precious and fragile lives. “There is good too,” he countered, but his voice was weak, quiet. “There is good on this earth.”
“Not enough good,” was Huck’s assured reply.
“Why?” Scott asked, his mouth dry. He swallowed and asked again, “Why are you doing this to me?”
Without a reply, Huck leaned down and grabbed a remote—he pointed it at the flat screen and paused the live feed: the image of Harper froze on the screen with his daughter Lucy a fuzzy blur in the background, still hunched over her phone.
Then Huck turned and walked right up to Scott. He put a hand on his shoulder. Popping the cigar out of his mouth, he cleared his throat and smiled a toothy grin. “The short answer? For them.” He pointed to the screen. “For the people we love. But in time…I’ll discuss it all in time. You will see how my plan came to be, and why it must happen, and then you will understand that there is no other way. Everyone does, in time. Everyone. So come, Scott.” He started walking toward the door. “Let’s go get some dinner.” He looked back to see if his guest was following. “Are you in the mood for sushi?”
Chapter One
Yellowstone National Park, Wyoming
Lucy sat among the growing lupines, their purple buds stretching to the sky and swaying in the cool spring wind. From the grassy and flower-covered hill, Lucy admired the towering Grand Tetons in the distance and the still waters of Jackson Lake. She watched the glassy water ripple toward the shore and always—despite knowing that it wouldn’t happen—expected to see a fish jump or a vacationer kayak past. Some earthly expectations were hard to overcome.
The log cabins of Jackson Lake Mountain Lodge were all empty. There were no dead bodies to move, no smells to overcome, no rotting surprises left to discover around the corner. The virus, unleashed by bioterrorists, claimed the residents of the small Wyoming town before vacation season opened, and so the cabins were the perfect discovery after long days on the road. Each cabin was deceptively rustic on the outside and luxurious on the inside; they offered a welcome respite from travel for Lucy King and Grant Trotter as they made their way from Portland to Brixton, Nebraska.
The duo had landed their hot air balloon in central Oregon. Grant might have known how to fill the balloon and sail it out and over the congested city and suburbs, and he might have known how to follow the wind, but landing was a s
kill he had yet to master. Lucy had a fist-sized bruise on her leg that was finally fading to a respectable shade of yellow. and her jammed finger no longer ached. She would have teased Grant about his inability to think through the landing part, but he had looked embarrassed and ashamed after they crawled out of the overturned basket.
From there: they slept in an empty house, stole a green Toyota Camry with a full tank of gas, and followed the highway all the way into Idaho before stranding themselves right outside of Boise. It was easy to push away the thoughts of what had happened to the world as they drove down nearly deserted back roads and empty towns.
Grant and Lucy had not seen another living soul since leaving her brother Ethan back in Oregon. Ethan wasn’t alone: he had Darla and her young son Teddy, both of whom he had befriended at the Portland airport amidst the tragedy and chaos of Release Day. While Grant and Lucy had thought of their Oregon contingent often, they knew that Darla, who had worked with industrious diligence to free Lucy from the high school where she had been kept captive, would care for Ethan in their absence.
The hardest part was not knowing. So, they trudged forward, focusing on the goal at hand: Nebraska.
As they moved forward across state lines, in and out of cities, they would occasionally spy a flutter of movement, a shadow dancing across a curtain or something shifting in the corner of their eye, but every search for survivors ended with disappointment. The shadows were from the wind, and the movement just figments of their imaginations. No, the world was quiet; people were gone.
The Virulent Chronicles Box Set Page 41
