“Thank you. But that’s not necessary, Mr. Devereaux.”
Devereaux smiled. “You know, I enjoyed being Rock Man for a short time.” He got to his feet. “I suppose I’d better go downstairs and give myself up.”
Sister Ezekiel put her hand on his arm. “Wait.”
He raised an eyebrow.
“I think you should hold off until morning. Sleep on it. You can stay here in Doug’s room for the night. I don’t think you’re evil,” she added. “This isn’t your fault.” She waved her hand to indicate the damage to the shelter.
“I must say, Sister,” Devereaux said. “You almost surprise me. You really ought to hate me for everything that’s happened.”
“I know you never meant to hurt anyone.”
“And yet harm has befallen you just the same.”
“Can I ask you something? There’s something I’ve been wanting to ask you for a long time.”
Devereaux looked at her with arched eyebrows.
“What I want to know is: Why do you think we can be better without God?”
Devereaux smiled. “I was once a man of great faith. I wanted God.” Devereaux bowed his head. “But I needed truth,” he spoke softly. “As much as I desired reality to be something more than it is, I knew that, ultimately, I had to accept that we must change if we wish to survive. Religion—or rather the tyranny of religion—is the single greatest force for evil the world has ever created.”
“You don’t believe in Satan?”
Devereaux shook his head. “The evil in this world was all created by us.”
“How do you explain the miracles I see every day? The incredible diversity and complexity of life—of human beings.”
Devereaux smiled. “Life isn’t nearly as diverse as you think, Sister. For example, we share over 98 percent of our DNA with chimpanzees. At least 90 percent of our genes correlate at some level with those found in mice. We’re all made up of the same building blocks. And as for complexity…well, we only think life is complex because our brains are so limited. A child thinks a pebble is complex. If we understood more of the universe, we might find life to be incredibly simple. In fact, creating new life isn’t that difficult. I’ve done it.”
Sister Ezekiel knew she could not win an argument with this man, but her faith pushed her on, forced her to fight against the darkness he preached. For what sort of world would this be if he were right? What would be the point of living without God?
“No matter how smart you are, no matter how much you evolve, you’ll still have a human mind, which makes you inherently imperfect.”
“That is the bane of religion, Sister. It allows us to delight in the mysteries of life and accept our imperfections. It inhibits our intellectual growth by promoting spirituality. It embraces fallibility. Without that crutch, imagine what we could become.”
“God made us imperfect. And He gave us free will to allow us to create our own destinies. He merely hopes we will work for His will.”
“Is Gray Weiss working for God’s will? Are all the people who invoke God’s name blessed?” Devereaux stopped, closed his eyes for a moment. “I won’t argue against faith. Faith has kept me going on many a lonely night. We all need faith…and hope. Christianity was necessary once upon a time. It was a phase humans needed. As were Islam and Judaism, Hinduism and Buddhism.”
Sister Ezekiel shook her head and looked up at him. “What you’re saying is just another phase too. The world is at war, perhaps directed by Satan. You may even have—unkowningly—played into his hands. I think that some day you’ll see that you were wrong, that we need God in our lives.”
Devereaux’s shoulders slumped. He said, “I almost wish you were right, Sister. But if you are, then humanity is destined to fail. We must become greater than our selfish selves. If we want to be better than the animals we claim dominion over, we have to become creatures of integrity and compassion.”
“We already are. God made us that way.”
“You are, Sister. I would never dispute that. But there aren’t many in this world like you. I wish there were.”
“The tragedy of it,” Sister Ezekiel said, “is that you mean well. Everyone knows that. Even those men out there hunting you. Strange, that so much evil should result from the actions of one well-intended man.”
“If you could see what humanity will be in a thousand years,” Devereaux said, “if you could see the changes that will spring from the roots of unflinching truth, you might not be so quick to judge. These dark times, as horrible as they are, are necessary for humanity to survive. Religion cannot coddle us any longer.”
“I don’t judge you,” Sister Ezekiel said. “That is for God to do.”
“I thank you for your goodness, Sister, though I fear my judgment will come at the hands of men…and soon.”
“Get some sleep,” Sister Ezekiel said. “We’ll talk in the morning. But I don’t know if you should give yourself up.”
He sat back on the bed and held her hand to his cheek. His skin felt warm. He looked small and vulnerable, staring at her. His face bespoke a kind of longing, almost as if he wanted to tell her something.
She said, “I’d like to pray for you, if that’s okay.”
“That’s fine, Sister. Thank you. There’s nothing wrong with a little prayer.”
Sister Ezekiel nodded, not trusting herself to speak.
Devereaux kissed the back of her hand, then let it go and lay back, his head settling against the pillow, his eyes closed. Watching him, Sister Ezekiel no longer felt tired. Devereaux’s words had opened some inner wellspring of strength. She sensed the Eternal in him—despite his atheism—a profound goodness shining through, lighting his great soul, blessing all those who came into contact with him. Reaching up to turn out the light, she closed the door softly behind her.
Chapter Eighteen
Jeremiah slid from shadow to shadow, a hunter in his element. The clouds that had begun to move in at sunset now filled the sky with the promise of rain, bringing a deeper quality to the darkness, but with his night vision scope he saw as if it were daytime. His footfalls barely reached his ears. Ahead of him at the edge of the forest, a man stood in that familiar bent posture of the old, a bag over his shoulder. Jeremiah wondered whether he ought to chase the old man away. Then the old man disappeared behind a tree and Jeremiah heard the hoot of an owl.
He relaxed. “Oh,” he said, “it’s you.”
Julianna, in her old man’s disguise, peered around the tree trunk at Jeremiah, her head angled sideways, a lopsided grin displaying a crooked set of teeth.
Stepping to the tree, he asked, “How many of those disguises do you have?”
“Only two,” she said. Then she slowly peeled off her mask and wig, handed them to Jeremiah and removed her fake teeth. She dropped them into Jeremiah’s palm. He shuddered and she laughed softly. “What did you bring to the party?”
“Aside from my Las-pistol and some stun grenades, an electro-magnetic scanner,” he said, holding it up while she took off her shirt. “Designed for bio traces.”
“I’ve got a low-level proximity sensor,” she said as she slid her thumb down the seam of her torso body suit. She opened the suit and let it slip to the ground. Then she removed her padded pants, bending over to pull them free of her shoes, her white silk panties a beacon in the darkness. Straightening, she stood still for a moment, letting him see her lean, hard body and small, firm breasts. Jeremiah found himself staring at her, memory flooding back, desire haunting him. He looked down at his scanner as she said, “Only problem with these body suits is that you can’t move quickly in them.”
“I remember that,” Jeremiah answered. He glanced at her again, trying not to think about the good years they’d shared.
“You know you want me,” Julianna said as she opened her bag and dressed in her camos. Then she put on a belt with a hols
tered Las-pistol and attached a series of stun grenades and spare charges. Afterwards, Jeremiah helped her fold and stash the old man disguise in her bag, under a pile of fallen brush. “Damn things cost a fortune,” she said. “It was so much nicer when Eli was paying for them.”
Jeremiah opened his can of face-black and dipped his fingers in it. He began to spread it over her face, working it around her eyes, across her forehead and cheeks.
When he finished, Julianna seated her interface against her temple. She pointed to his night vision scope. “I don’t need one of those. I’ve got vision enhancement that ties into the interface.” She took the can he proffered and pulled out a big glop of paint. With quick strokes, she covered his forehead and cheeks. When she finished his face, she held up her blackened fingers and said, “Why are we doing this?”
“So we don’t have to wear our face covers. And let’s set the camos to half-strength. It’ll be easier if we can mostly see each other out there.”
Julianna said, “I heard that some Elite Ops troopers are here already.”
“It was only a matter of time before they showed. I wonder where they are.”
“Don’t know,” Julianna said. “One more thing. Right now only you and Lendra know I’m here. Weiss and the soldiers think I’m a middle-aged doctor.”
“Not for long. Truman saw Boyd’s reaction to your code word. Weiss may have too. I’m sure they’ll question Boyd. They’ll learn you were supposed to be his contact.”
Julianna shook her head. “Amateurs. Could you believe that guy? And why the hell did he and his backup attack you, anyway? They were just supposed to follow you, report on your progress.”
“How’d you know I was coming?”
“There are a lot of highly placed people in our organization,” Julianna said.
“What organization is that?”
“It’s not important.” She shook her head. “I just knew that idiot was going to say something stupid. After the way he reacted, I had to ignore him or I never would have gotten out of there. Truman’s been watching me like a hawk. Good thing I had this extra disguise.” She sighed. “I don’t suppose Dr. Mary can go back now.”
“You liked being her, didn’t you?” Jeremiah said. “Here.” He handed her his scatterer so she at least would be undetectable by Truman’s soldiers.
“All good things must end,” Julianna said. “Won’t take them long to figure out I’ve got a price on my head.” She gave an exaggerated shrug, raising her eyebrows in mock astonishment. “What are you going to do? Come on, let’s play.” Laughing, she jumped over a mossy log, ran down a hill and up the other side. She turned at the top, looked back at him and said, “Are you coming? We can’t hang around here all day.”
He leapt over the log and rushed toward her, exhilarated to be moving so fast. As he came up next to her, she turned away again and darted off. He sprinted after her, admiring the way she glided lightly over the terrain. He could barely hear her footsteps over his. At one point, she disappeared over a hill. Cresting it, he saw a stagnant pond, a cloud of mosquitoes hovering above it. It gave off an odor of rotting plants that made his nose wrinkle. In its center stood a fountain covered with moss and vines, and beyond it, the remains of what had once been a mansion. Julianna wisely stayed well away from the pond, making a wide circle around it and moving off a few hundred yards before stopping. One could never be too careful with the Susquehanna Virus.
When he caught up to her, she put her hand on his chest and said, “Heartbeat’s normal. You’re an animal.”
Perhaps I am, he thought. Perhaps I’m part horse or part wolf or part tiger. His arms and legs tingled, as if yearning for movement, seeking joy in the speed and flowing power of the chase. He caught Julianna staring at him with a frown, so he shook his head and pointed north, saying, “I’m getting an unusual reading over that way.”
Julianna leaned over and examined his scanner.
“Let’s do it,” she said.
They ran along what had once been a road, past mostly demolished houses. The few that remained standing looked oddly frail through his night vision scope. Nature had begun to reclaim her territory; trees and bushes grew through windows and doors. Jeremiah felt a twinge of surprise that their owners hadn’t destroyed all the houses upon leaving. Anything associated with the Susquehanna Virus should have been torn down to minimize the virus’ spread.
Every few seconds, Jeremiah checked the scanner. He saw several dozen sharp images moving in groups, not individually. Truman’s soldiers would be out here conducting their own search for Cookie Monster and the other Escala. What Jeremiah didn’t know was whether the colonel had information he didn’t about the Escala’s possible location. At the top of the scanner was the strange, undefinable energy output. The scatterer Julianna wore masked her bio-signature, while his image came back fuzzy as a result of his nearness to her.
“You see that movement?” Julianna asked.
“Just the soldiers. Why?”
“There’s a distortion to my proximity sensor,” Julianna answered. “But I can’t tell if it’s Escala. Straight ahead.”
Jeremiah noticed the top of a roof visible above the trees and said, “In there, maybe?”
“Let’s check inside,” Julianna said.
Together they moved forward, more slowly now, placing their feet carefully to protect against snapping twigs or the rustling of dried leaves. Past a heavy thicket, they came upon a golf clubhouse—its roof and two walls collapsed. As they reached the building, Jeremiah saw crumpled blankets in a corner, glass containers and broken glass littering the floor, empty cans crushed and mangled, graffiti decorating the two standing walls. Piled in the corner were dozens of abandoned power cells still giving off traces of electricity. They must have been what triggered the scanner and proximity sensor.
Jeremiah nevertheless activated the “lamp” setting on his pencil flash. He and Julianna studied the floor. They found no sign of recent activity, no hidden tunnel entrances, only the detritus of the homeless who had occasionally sheltered there.
“One down,” Julianna said.
Jeremiah turned off his flash and led the way over the twisted rubble outside. Through the rustling breeze, he could just detect the sound of soldiers approaching. He cursed himself for failing to check his scanner, took a look at it and grabbed Julianna’s arm. “You see that?” he asked.
Julianna said, “I’ve been keeping an eye on them. They’re still a hundred and fifty meters away. Follow me.”
She moved east, toward the noise. Before he could ask her what the hell she was doing, she began climbing a cottonwood tree. Jeremiah pulled himself up after her. Julianna climbed quickly, almost carelessly, stopping about twenty feet off the ground. He moved up to the branch below her, his head level with her muscular glutes. The branch, several inches in diameter, should have held him easily but he heard a cracking sound as it gave slightly under his feet. “Camos to full power,” he whispered, unzipping his camos and adjusting the sensors to maximum. Julianna’s legs faded to fuzziness. He wrapped his arms around them, inhaling her earthy aroma.
Below him, he heard the soldiers walking. Although the camos’ sensors were working properly, Jeremiah still felt uneasy, like a fish in a barrel. They were trapped up here. He glanced down at the soldiers as they marched through the forest. Two of them, he noticed, wore proximity sensors. The rest wore night-vision goggles. He counted eight total. As they passed below, one of the soldiers with a proximity sensor stopped.
Again the branch cracked, just a tiny sound, but it hit his eardrums like cannon fire. Jeremiah held his breath. Slowly, he edged his fingers toward his Las-pistol. He didn’t want to have to hurt anybody. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the soldier look up, searching the tree. Above him, an owl hooted twice. Julianna.
The soldier raised his weapon, edging around the tree. Would he shoot an owl? Jer
emiah’s fingers reached the Las-pistol, slipped around its textured grip. Taking care to move slowly so as not to catch the soldier’s eye, he eased the weapon out of its holster. Again Julianna hooted, softer this time. What was she thinking?
“Hey,” a soldier called out from a few meters away.
Jeremiah nearly startled at the sound of the voice. He pressed himself even tighter against Julianna’s legs.
“I think it’s an owl,” the soldier beneath them said. He took a couple steps forward, continuing to look up. “But I can’t see it.”
“Genius,” the other soldier said. “We’re not supposed to be looking for owls. Let’s go.”
As they moved off to join the rest of their squad, Jeremiah exhaled, realizing that he’d been holding his breath. Even though he was almost certain they were alone, he remained motionless, hesitant to check his scanner, afraid that any small movement might draw a straggler’s attention.
Julianna wriggled her rear, bumping his face with her bottom. She giggled softly.
“Cut it out,” he whispered.
“Don’t worry,” she said. “They’re gone.”
Jeremiah checked his scanner and realized Julianna was right. He re-holstered his Las-pistol, then climbed down and dropped to a crouch. By the time he got to his feet, Julianna had already adjusted her camos to half-strength. He did the same.
“Where to next?” she asked.
His scanner displayed another unusual reading. He showed her the coordinates.
“Okay.” Julianna glanced at the scanner, her straight white teeth looking bright in his night vision scope. He suddenly realized he was grinning too. She nodded, then darted off, and Jeremiah sprinted after her, content to follow, watching her slim, muscular body weave through the undergrowth. He felt lighter than he had in years. His feet seemed to barely touch the ground as he trailed Julianna through waist-high grass, across what had been the golf course. When they reached the far end of the course, he moved up next to her. She put her hand out and squeezed his arm, gently pulling him along an old road that they followed past half a dozen houses until they arrived at the second spot with the unusual bio-signatures—a collapsed brick structure that had once been a commercial building. It had undergone some demolition when it was abandoned, but the place had been solidly constructed and three of the outer walls remained largely intact. The roof, however, was gone. Again, Jeremiah and Julianna carefully scanned the area.
The Susquehanna Virus Box Set Page 21
