by JE Gurley
“What’s this?” Jeffries asked, mystified.
Marino explained. “The diary belonged to Dr. Willis Cromby and the flash drive was Dr. John Gilford’s. They created the nanite virus in a base in Antarctica. On the drive up, Alex told me what you were attempting to do. I don’t know if it will help but …”
Jeffries looked at the two objects as if Marino had just delivered into his hands the Holy Grail and King Arthur’s Excalibur with one fell swoop. He clamped them to his chest. A look of sublime ecstasy swept over his face as tears streamed down his cheeks.
“Are they still alive?” he asked.
“No. They’re dead,” Marino replied. He did not bother to explain that one had committed suicide and that Anson had killed the other when he had tried to kill them all.
“Too bad. Their input could have been very useful. Let’s hope these notes and data hold the answer we are seeking.”
“I saw the device Alex used at Orroroo. It looks like you’re doing pretty well on your own.”
Jeffries smiled at the compliment. “Our EMP emitters work, true, but if these objects hold the key, the exact frequency at which the nanites operate, we can possibly render them inactive with no harmful side effects to the living. We can take back our world.”
Marino grunted. “From what I’ve seen, there’s not much left of it.”
“A large portion of the population has succumbed to the plague, perhaps as high as eighty-five percent in some areas, but unless we begin soon, everyone will die.”
Marino shot Alex a hard look. “What does he mean?”
Alex placed a hand on Marino’s shoulder. “He means all of us have the virus inside our bodies, waiting. Unless we clear the planet of them, we’ll all eventually die.”
Marino staggered. If not for Alex’s restraining grip, he would have fallen. His voice cracked as he asked, “All of us?”
“Afraid so. We’ve been cleared, but they’ll come back and re-infect us in the air we breathe. Repeated exposure to the EMP pulse will keep us alive a bit longer, so you and Anson are good to go for a while.”
“I thought maybe we were immune.” Marino shook his head. “Are you one of the scientists here?”
Alex chuckled and slapped his knee. He couldn’t even imagine himself a scientist. “Nah, mate. I’m a bloody opal fossicker from Coober Pedy. I don’t understand half of what they’re saying and none of what they’re doing. I learned to use the bloody remote control to activate the device like a trained chimp. Other than that, I’m here for heavy lifting.”
“Don’t let him kid you,” Nicole said. “He’s learned quite a lot about what Dr. Jeffries and his team are doing.”
“What’s next?” Marino asked. “I mean, you’ve cleared Woomera. Where do you go now?”
Alex answered. “Jeffries thinks Port Augusta would be best. It’s on the main east-west highway and it has a major electrical grid. We have to clear it, convince the survivors to help us manufacture more devices and carry them to other infected cities.”
Marino nodded. “It might not be too easy to get people to risk their lives after surviving this long.”
“You’re right, of course. We just kind of stumbled into it, but it has to be done.”
“Eventually,” Jeffries added, “we’ll have to reprogram a satellite or two to broadcast on the proper frequency. That should speed the process considerably.”
Marino rubbed his beard. “Say, you two look pretty clean. Is there any way I can get this damn itchy thing off my face?”
Nicole laughed. “You can also have a hot shower, if you want.” She looked at Jeffries; then added, “Just try not to use too much hot water.”
After Marino disappeared into the back searching for the bathroom, Nicole said, “Where’s his friend?”
“Val and I had a long talk on the way back. They found Anson’s sister murdered and brother missing. They went searching for the killer, but missed him. The brother turned up later, a zombie. Anson had to kill him.”
Nicole covered her mouth with her hand. “Oh, my God. How awful.”
“The killer showed up in Orroroo following me. He set a pack of zombies loose on us. Luckily, the small EMP worked beautifully. Anson went after him with murder in his eyes.”
“It rendered the zombies inactive?” Jeffries asked.
“Like a charm,” Alex replied.
Jeffries nodded and walked away, leaving Alex and Nicole alone. He was glad for the privacy.
“You don’t seem distressed that Anson intends to murder this man.”
Alex ignored the reproof in her voice. “I would help him if he asked me. There is no law anymore. What else would you expect someone to do with a murderer? Lock him up and feed him? No, we don’t have the resources for that. For a while, maybe a long while, justice will be swift and harsh. If someone kills, they die. If they steal, they will be sent out to fend for themselves. You want a new society. Those will be the rules.”
“It’s cruel.”
“Not as cruel as every man or woman, fending for themselves. Things will sort themselves out. Most people aren’t cruel and heartless, but the cruel and heartless will be the ones who take charge. It’s the way it always is. People are very glad to let others make the tough decisions they can’t or won’t make.”
She shook her head, “You make it sound so, so barbaric.”
“Civilizations don’t simply rise from the ashes like some fabled Phoenix. They claw their way out, soot-smudged and singed at the edges. If they’ve got what it takes, they’ll grow.”
“It’s not going to be easy, is it?”
Alex clasped her hand with his and squeezed gently. “No it won’t, but with love, we’ll make it.”
He felt the warmth of her eyes brush his body and suppressed a tremble of excitement. He glanced around. “Now that we’re alone, why don’t we go back to our room?”
She smiled and cocked her head. “Why, Alex. I’m surprised at you. All this talk of rebuilding has made you horny.”
“Must be,” he said as he gently pulled her along unresisting behind him.
* * * *
Val Marino luxuriated beneath the spray of hot water cascading over his body; the first shower he had enjoyed in over a month. It was difficult to limit his time as the strong jets of water massaged away the ache in his back and shoulders and trickled down the crack of his butt. After shaving off his beard and trimming his overgrown mustache to a more manageable length, he felt ten pounds lighter. He had almost shaved it off entirely, but decided to keep it. He thought it made him look more rugged. He was surprised to discover how long his hair had grown. Rather than butcher it with the small scissors that he used on his mustache and beard, he tied it back in a ponytail. He had been alarmed at the number of gray hairs he found in the sink after his barbering. His ordeals had aged him beyond his 32 years. It was no wonder that his hair and beard had not gone completely gray.
In spite of his newfound joy of cleanliness, he was worried about Anson. He knew he could never have stopped the Australian from going after the man who had murdered his sister, but he was ashamed he had not gone with him. Even if Anson considered it a personal vendetta, it was still dangerous. He didn’t know what he would do if the big Aussie didn’t return. He had grown fond of Anson’s gruff attitude and wry humor.
One of the technicians had provided him with a change of clothes. The clean slacks and short sleeve shirt felt odd on his body and the boxer-style briefs were uncomfortable. He eyed his reflection in the mirror. Clean-shaven and pasty-faced, he looked more like an accountant than a climatologist. He traced the new wrinkles at the corners of his eyes and his gaunt cheeks with a finger. He had dropped several pounds from his already lean frame and his eyes, once bright blue, now appeared more subdued, as if witness to too much pain and death.
A soft knock on the door brought him out of his reverie.
“Val, dinner is ready.”
He smiled when he recognized Nicole’s voice. He was jealou
s of Alex and he hardly knew the man.
“I’ll be right out.” He placed his Stetson back on his head after giving his hawk feather a rub for luck.
He found the others already seated around the table. After introductions all around, they were eager to hear the story of his adventures. As he looked into their faces, each one marked by the trials of their own lives, he said, “Nah. Elliott and I just survived, that’s all. Most didn’t make it.”
A few heads nodded in approval at his reluctance. Any exchange of stories of survival would have seemed irreverent to those who had died.
Ivers spoke up. He seemed surprisingly cheerful. “We’ve scanned the data on the flash drive you brought us. John Gilford was a remarkable man.”
Marino cringed at the compliment to Gilford, but said nothing. Speaking ill of the dead helped no one.
Ivers did not notice Marino’s reaction to his remark. He continued, “He and Cromby were way ahead of their time. Now, with the exact frequency with which the nanites communicate, we can fine-tune our EM pulse; make it ten times more effective.”
Marino set his fork aside. “Does this mean we can win? I mean, Alex here told me that we’re all infected. Can we eradicate the nanites in the upper atmosphere as well?”
Jeffries jumped into the conversation. Marino noticed that Ivers seemed annoyed at the interruption. The others did not seem to notice the tension. “We must begin with the ground level infection. Cleansing the atmosphere will be more difficult.”
Marino raised a finger to get their attention. “I’ve been giving that some thought. As you know, I’m a climatologist. I’ve been studying dust migration from deserts to the Polar Regions. Prevailing wind currents will carry many of the nanites to the poles, where the freezing temperatures will render them inactive. Rains will bring more to ground level where they’ll be easier to deal with. The salt water of the oceans will corrode the ones landing there.
“Any nanites reaching the mesosphere, say 80 kilometers up, we can forget about. At 85 below, they’ll be inactive until solar radiation degrades them. The stratosphere is trickier since it warms to above freezing at the upper levels, but any nanites that fall back into the troposphere, say 20 kilometers or less, will be subject to local jet streams.”
He picked up his fork and took a bite of his mashed potatoes, savoring the taste of real food.
“I’m no climatologist, but won’t the jet stream carry them everywhere,” Jeffries asked.
Marino swallowed. “That’s the good part. If you send up a few balloons into the jet stream and detonate a series of pulses along its length, you can kill high concentrations of nanites with relatively low-yield devices.”
Ivers slapped the table, rattling the dishes. “Wonderful! Mr. Marino, you’ve just earned your keep. Your expertise will come in handy.”
“Nah. You need Anson. He’s been at this longer than I have.” Thinking of Anson, he frowned and added, “If he ever gets here, that is.”
“I’m sure he’ll be all right,” Nicole said. “Alex tells me that he thinks Elliot is quite capable of taking care of himself.”
Marino laughed. “He managed to look after me too. I owe him my life.”
“If he’s not back by morning,” Alex added, “we’ll go looking for him. Too bad we don’t have that plane you were in.”
Marino dropped his fork. “Damn! That reminds me. A woman in Adelaide said she saw military helicopters several times flying over the city and returning to the east. Have you seen them?”
Alex rubbed his chin. “Hmm. No, we haven’t. Is she reliable?”
Marino laughed as he thought of Tabitha. “I don’t know about that but I don’t think she made it up.”
“Perhaps they come from Melbourne,” Jeffries suggested. “We heard rumors that the government was attempting to establish a refugee center there.”
“Alex said you had a radio. You haven’t made radio contact with them?” Marino asked.
Jeffries’ sheepish grin telegraphed his answer. “We haven’t been monitoring it as often as we should. We’ve been busy. It was almost by accident that we heard Alex’s radio call. Now I’m afraid all the testing with EM pulses we’ve done has ionized the atmosphere around the base. Making contact will be difficult.”
“We can look for them when we clear Port Augusta,” Alex said, bringing smiles to all their faces.
Nicole grabbed Alex’s hand and squeezed. “We can, can’t we? For the first time in a long while, I feel as if we are going to make it.”
Marino took a bite of the steamed vegetables on his plate. “Can someone pass the pepper please?”
“Would you like some wine, Mr. Marino?” Ivers asked, holding up a bottle of red wine.
Marino’s mouth watered. He hadn’t tasted alcohol in over a month. “If it’s not your last bottle.”
Ivers chuckled. “Hardly. We found over a hundred bottles in the commissary.”
Marino held out his glass as Ivers poured. He swirled the glass to test the legs, sniffed for bouquet and decided he didn’t know squat about wine, so he took a sip. The wine was sweeter than he liked, but good.
“Excellent,” he said. “Slightly fruity.”
Ivers seemed pleased. “It’s a good Australian Shiraz from near here. The grapes were grown in greenhouses with drip fed irrigation systems. The owner produced some amazing vintages, as well as some fresh organically grown vegetables. He used solar cells for power and a windmill to pump water. Amazing set up. He used to deliver to the base.” He sighed. “That was before the Demise, of course.”
Ivers’ story sparked Marino’s interest. “A self-contained greenhouse – sounds exactly like the sort of thing we need. Preserved and canned goods will last only so long. Fresh vegetables are better. Under controlled conditions, they can be grown year round. I visited an Israeli kibbutz in the Negev Desert a few years ago. They grew all their own food and managed to export some. We should check out this place.”
Alex smiled and held out his glass of wine. “Good idea. Welcome to Australia, Val. Glad to have you here.”
As they clinked glasses, Marino wondered why he suddenly felt so at home among strangers. Then he realized, take away the accent and these strangers were just like his friends back in Tucson. The thought made him a little homesick. Arizona was a long way from Woomera, Australia. He wondered if he would ever make it back. If his destiny was to be marooned in a foreign land, at least God had seen fit to make it among people he thought he could like.
By the time he had finished his meal, he realized just how exhausted he was. Perhaps it was the two glasses of wine or the chaotic events of the day, but Nicole noticed when he tried to suppress a yawn.
“Alex and I have some work to do. Why don’t you take our room and get some sleep?”
The thought of a real bed sounded nice to Marino, but he said, “No. I don’t want to put you out.”
“Nonsense,” Alex chimed in. “Get some shut eye. Tomorrow we start to reclaim the world.”
Marino nodded. “In that case, I accept.”
* * * *
“I like him.”
Alex smiled at Nicole. They sat on the roof watching Ivers and two others carting bodies to piles. His turn would come later. One mound of the dead at the edge of the lot was now a blazing funeral pyre. The dark smoke swirled in the breeze, but thankfully carried the stench of scorched flesh away from the building. To Alex, it was still a ghastly sight, but one he knew he would have to get used to.
“You like him ‘cause he’s handsome.”
She slapped at him playfully. “You’re handsomer.”
“Handsomer?”
“More handsome, then.” She giggled. “I had too much wine with dinner.”
“I agree with you about the wine and about Val. He seems like a nice enough bloke. He’s a long way from home.”
Nicole frowned, “We all are.”
“Not any more. Where ever we wind up, you and I will be home, together.”
She
pressed closer to him. “That’s a nice thought. Promise you’ll never leave me.”
“Where could I go? Besides, as far as I know, you’re the last woman left on earth.”
Nicole backed away and frowned. “You’re a beast.”
Alex pulled her closer and kissed her. “Yeah, but I’m your beast, love.”
She tucked her head under his chin. “Do we have to go to Port Augusta tomorrow? You just got back.”
“People could die while we wait. Besides, we need to look for Anson along the way.” He enjoyed the scent of her hair, the smell of her body. Her odor was different from Jiselle’s. Jiselle had always been partial to floral scents – shampoo, conditioner, even her fragrance. Nicole’s scent was earthier, more natural, but pleasant. She smelled like health and vigor, something the land was going to need in abundance.
“You’re right, of course. I’m just being selfish. It’s just that . . . well, damn it, if we’re going to rebuild the world, I want to have a baby.”
Her admission stunned him. “A baby? Now?” He felt her stillness and knew he had upset her.
“Why not? It takes nine months, you know. Now is the perfect time. He or she will be born into a new world.”
“But . . .” He wanted to remind her that the plague virus was still out there, and that they might not eradicate it for years, but decided that she knew this as well as he did, and just didn’t care. “You gave our bed away.”
She ran her hand up his leg to his thigh and groped him gently, provocatively. “No one comes up here, do they?”
He turned her to face him and planted a kiss on her forehead. “Good idea.”
27
Sept. 8, 2013 Port Augusta, Australia
Port Augusta, once teeming with over 14,000 inhabitants, projected the silence of a graveyard. A black shroud hung over the cold, empty buildings from fires that still raging in the center of town. A jumble of vehicles littered the highways and side streets, abandoned during the mad exodus to escape the plague. The city was silent but not still. Hundreds of walking dead ambled along the sides of the highway and among the wrecked autos. Many corpses lay scattered about. At first, Alex thought they had died because they were unable to replenish their energy through fresh blood, but he soon noticed a large number of dismembered and bullet ridden corpses. He was examining gouges in the asphalt and holes in some of the vehicles when Nicole walked up beside him.
