The Susquehanna Virus Box Set

by Steve McEllistrem

  “It’s a tidal river.”

  “Out of the way,” Wes yelled at the spectators as he led Curtik and the cutie-pie across to the other side of the bridge.

  When they reached the parapet on that side, the cutie-pie said, “There he is.”

  Brosk’s body drifted just below the surface, moving slowly upstream. Suddenly Brosk lifted his head to take a breath. People pressed in against Curtik, all staring down at the water. There had to be hundreds watching. How much did they know? Were they aware that Brosk was loaded with the virus? Did they know he was going to explode soon?

  Again Brosk surfaced. Why the hell didn’t he stay down? And why hadn’t he blown up yet?

  “Down,” the cutie-pie yelled. “You have to dive.”

  A few spectators chimed in, chanting, “Dive, dive, dive.”

  Brosk rolled onto his back for a moment as if trying to catch his breath. The chants grew louder. “Dive, dive, dive.” Raindrops speckled the dark gray water. After a moment Brosk flipped over and dove again, deeper this time, because Curtik could no longer spot him. The crowd went quiet, only a few murmurs disturbing the air. The scene felt so calm.

  And then Brosk exploded, a fountain of spray lifting a dozen feet into the air. The water roiled, a white effervescence on the brown river, gradually subsuming. Brosk is dead. And I’m alive. We’re alive.

  “Trogan,” Jefferson whispered into Curtik’s implant. “May you find peace.”

  The cutie-pie buried her face in Curtik’s jacket. He put his arm around her, unsure what to make of this supposed terrorist, only knowing that he needed to hang on to her for a while.

  “Take her into custody,” Major Somers spoke through Curtik’s implant, and Wes grabbed her arm. “Well done, lad,” Major Somers added. “Very well done indeed.”

  As Wes tugged her arm, Curtik clung to her.

  “Trogan was a good man,” the cutie-pie said.

  “Yes, he was,” Curtik answered as if he’d known him.

  Then Wes pulled her clear of him and placed her in one of the police vehicles. As it drove away, Curtik stood on the sidewalk and wondered if he would ever see her again. He suddenly realized he didn’t even know her name.

  Chapter 26

  Zora ran north through the park, holding back so she wouldn’t leave Timothy behind, dodging Londoners on the trail, leaving the cleanup operation to the others. She couldn’t do much without a weapon so she simply stayed with Timothy, checking for possible terrorists. She maintained contact with Ned, Lendra and Major Somers through her Plus-Glasses, and she kept the images of Dr. Leah Shafer in the upper right corner of the lenses while she displayed a map of the surrounding area in the upper left corner. Her shield kept the rain off her glasses.

  Although Curtik was an undisciplined child, he was right; it felt good to be on the move. The meds kept her joint pain at bay. What would it feel like to sprint at full speed, to lash out at Dr. Shafer with a knife-edge fist? She felt herself getting warm at the notion of violence, which in turn made her think of Jeremiah and what it would be like to make love to him. That damn conditioning she received on the Moon made it hard to separate sex from violence. She forced herself to push those thoughts aside.

  “I think I should have a Las-pistol,” she said, “especially if I get separated from Timothy.”

  “I’m afraid I can’t officially authorize that,” Major Somers said.

  “Right,” Timothy replied. He reached down and grabbed his Las-pistol, then made an adjustment to it before holding it out for Zora to take.

  “Oops,” he said as she deactivated her shield and took it from him. “Someone bumped me and dislodged it. Zora, please pick it up and follow me. It’s set to my fingerprints, so you won’t be able to use it. Understand?”

  “Understood,” Zora said.

  “What’s our status?” Ned asked.

  Major Somers said, “We’ve shut down the tube at every nearby station. We’re also shutting down every road near you—no traffic for the foreseeable future. We’re going to have an unhappy population on our hands if we don’t find this woman quickly. The metropolitan police are looking for Dr. Shafer everywhere within a two-mile radius. We’ve sent emergency alerts and the two images CINTEP provided to every PlusPhone and PCD—personal communications device, for those of you unfamiliar with the term—in the citywide information system, along with Dr. Shafer’s height and last-known weight. Anyone sees her or someone who looks like her has been asked to send us a message immediately. We’ll begin to receive tips very . . . there’s one now. An officer is on the way. Timothy, you and Zora head toward Bayswater Station. You’ll be responsible for checking out any reports in that area.”

  Zora contacted Lendra via her Plus-Glasses: “Have you got any vid of Dr. Shafer moving or walking? Anything that might help us identify her?”

  “We’re trying to locate that now,” Lendra replied. “Should have it in a minute.”

  Reports and vid images flooded in as they exited the park onto Bayswater Road, where vehicles clogged the middle of the street. She had expected horns blaring and people yelling, but perhaps because the police had explained why this was necessary, the populace seemed to be accepting of it. They sat in their vehicles or stood on the sidewalks showing no sign of impatience so far.

  Zora concentrated on the faces she saw, dismissing most of them with only fleeting glances. Many wore masks, but she was still able to eliminate the majority of them. Only a few bore greater scrutiny, and they turned out to be innocents when Zora examined them more closely. She also ran a slideshow of the women photographed by citizens and transmitted via the citywide information system, but again she was able to dismiss most of them: too old, too young, too heavy.

  How carefully had Dr. Shafer planned her escape? Did she have a neo-skin mask that would allow her to alter her face completely? Unlikely. She’d probably been forced to run with little notice, and if she’d had genetic surgery, she no doubt thought that was disguise enough.

  While they ran down the middle of the road, between stopped vehicles, Zora studied the simulation of Dr. Shafer’s face, using her peripheral vision to maintain her line. She stayed a step behind Timothy, and every few seconds she scanned the crowd for anyone who looked remotely like the images she’d received.

  The crowd stared back at her, or more likely Timothy—probably wondering why this heavily armed man was running along Bayswater Road with this young woman in tow.

  “Sending the vid footage now,” Lendra said, and a loop appeared in the lower right corner of Zora’s glasses. It showed a middle-aged woman walking down a hallway. She was tall and muscular, and she moved like an athlete. She rolled her shoulders slightly as she walked, a characteristic that might be useful in identifying her.

  Ned noticed the same thing, for he said: “See that shoulder roll? That’s pretty distinctive. Let’s get every computer we’ve got looking for that.”

  The woman in the vid also favored her left leg ever so slightly. She might have had a sore knee that day, or a tender ankle—a hip pointer. Zora waited for someone else to bring it up, but no one did. Was she imagining it? She didn’t think so, but then again, the discrepancy was almost imperceptible. Zora ran the footage a few more times. She was pretty sure Dr. Shafer had an almost undetectable limp. But there was no way to be certain she still walked that way, so Zora said nothing. However, she added that variable into her vid-ID system along with the rolling shoulders, just in case. She felt a little guilt at keeping that information to herself, but she didn’t want to disclose it if she was just imagining it. Besides, she was here as an observer, so she would observe, keep her place, while Curtik, who couldn’t seem to stay away from the action, led Brosk to his death.

  As they turned north onto Queensway, Major Somers said: “Timothy, we’ve got a possible up by Princess Court, near the church. Sending you the data now. Take a look at it. Zo
ra, you hang back. I got in enough trouble after that attack in Holland Park.”

  “I’m sorry for helping you kill bad guys,” Zora said.

  “It may seem ridiculous to you. Frankly, I agree. But please just stay back and let Timothy handle it.”

  “Lot of people still pissed off at you from last year,” Timothy explained as they ran forward. Zora spotted the underground station on the left, up ahead about a block and a half. She saw what might have been the woman in question ducking into a church on the right side of the road.

  “I’ll check her out,” Timothy said. “Won’t take a minute. Stay connected in case there’s trouble, but I don’t think she’s the one we’re looking for.”

  Zora halted at the church entrance, keeping her Las-pistol down by her side where it wouldn’t attract so much attention. She left her shield off, the rain compacting her curly hair, dropping it over her glasses so that she occasionally had to brush it aside in order to see. She studied everyone in sight. Dozens of people stared back at her and at each other. A great use of crowd sourcing: get thousands of people looking for one fleeing terrorist and it was pretty likely you were going to catch her fairly soon, no matter how she disguised herself. Either that, or you were going to drive her into hiding, deep underground, in which case you might be searching for a long time.

  When Timothy’s feed showed that the woman wasn’t Dr. Shafer, Zora moved north to the end of the church, closer to the underground station. More alerts came through her glasses as Timothy emerged from the church. Three of them were nearby.

  “What about these next three?” Zora asked as Timothy joined her.

  “I’ll send the police to two of them,” Timothy said. He turned to the south.

  Zora held her ground, noting that one of the sightings was north. “It makes more sense to split up.”

  “I have my orders,” Timothy said. He continued going south. Was he expecting her to follow him or use her discretion? After all, he’d handed over his Las-pistol.

  She took his movement away from her as permission to check out the sighting to the north. As she headed in that direction, she saw a man turn away from her and hurry toward the underground station. Something about him looked furtive. He walked stooped over, hands in his pockets, favoring his left leg ever so slightly, scurrying like a rat, shoulders rolling a little, probably because he was trying to shrink himself inside his bulky coat. He wore a hat and had turned his collar up. Could he be a woman? The only reason Zora had thought he was a man was because of his size and the somewhat athletic way he moved. Her vid-ID system returned a probability of forty-nine percent, so the man likely wasn’t Dr. Shafer. Still, Zora trusted her instincts.

  She felt a surge of adrenaline as she followed him. She had to dodge around a couple of people to make sure she didn’t lose him. When he disappeared into the Bayswater Station, she ducked inside behind him.

  “Where are you going, Zora?” Major Somers asked. “If you’re going to defy orders, you should at least go after the woman two blocks north of your position.”

  “That guy up ahead looks suspicious,” Zora said.

  “Which one?” Lendra asked. “The one with the long coat? My vid-ID system shows only a twenty-six percent chance that he’s Dr. Shafer.”

  “I still want to check him out.”

  “You’re wasting your time,” Major Somers said.

  “I’m observing, like I’m supposed to. If I’m wrong, no harm done.”

  The man reached the escalator and descended, one of the few moving into the depths; a much greater flow of people rose to the surface.

  She went down the escalator after him, sinking deeper and deeper. The man, perhaps sensing she was following him, began to pass people, walking down the stairs on the left side. He kept his head down, as if trying to avoid the station’s closed circuit cameras. Zora began passing people as well, keeping about forty stairs between them. This was the longest escalator she had ever seen. As they descended, she studied the vid of Dr. Shafer twice more. She also noted that Timothy had reached another suspect, and that the woman was clearly not their target.

  She contemplated closing on the man, but decided to wait until she reached the bottom.

  “I really think you ought to check out the woman to the north,” Timothy said.

  Zora said, “If I’m wrong, I’ll just take a quick look around to see if anyone’s hiding on the platform. With this system-wide alert, Dr. Shafer might be waiting for the trains to start up again.”

  “You’re wasting your time, Zora,” Lendra said. “That man is not Leah Shafer.”

  “Quiet, everyone,” Ned jumped into the conversation. “Let her do her job. Keep broadcasting, Zora.”

  “Will do,” Zora said. “Thanks, Ned.”

  As the man reached the bottom of the escalator, Zora bounded forward, slipping past four men as she closed the gap. Her ears popped as she stepped out onto the platform. She caught sight of the man striding toward the far end, past the train that had been stopped at the station, its lights off, its doors closed up tight. The black hole at the far end of the platform offered the only real chance at escape now. But the man didn’t go that far. Instead, when he reached the wall, he turned, still keeping his head down. Only as Zora approached did he straighten up and remove his hat, revealing himself to be a woman. She smiled briefly. Zora compared her face to the simulation Lendra had sent. Close enough.

  Zora stopped ten feet in front of her and transmitted audio and video to Major Somers, Ned, Lendra and Timothy.

  “Dr. Leah Shafer, I presume,” she said, aiming her Las-pistol at Dr. Shafer’s chest. Behind her, the remaining people on the platform began making their way toward the exit.

  “You got her,” Major Somers said. “Excellent. Hold her there. We’re on our way.”

  “Leah Shafer is dead,” the woman said. “I’m Sally2.” She removed her hands from her pockets. The right one held a small glass canister, the left one a Las-pistol that shook ever so slightly. She said, “Hello, Zora.”

  “Have we met?” Zora glanced at the canister.

  “Your image was all over the news last year after you attacked Earth. You and I are the same. We want the same things.”

  “Try to keep her calm,” Lendra said.

  “Not exactly the same,” Zora said. “I was programmed to want to kill. You seem to want to do that all on your own.”

  “Can you blame me?” Sally2 asked. “The world is a cesspool—wars, pollution, ignorance, inequality, intolerance.”

  Zora laughed. “So you’re going to cure intolerance by wiping out all the intolerant people who don’t think the way you do?”

  “That’s not keeping her calm,” Lendra said.

  “Lendra, please,” Ned interrupted. “Trust her. She knows what she’s doing.”

  Sally2 held out the canister. “I drop this and everybody dies. Even you. This is the most potent form of the virus yet.”

  “Big, bad Sally2,” Zora said as she inched forward. “So what do you want?”

  “Stay back. I want you to drop your weapon. And I don’t want anyone else down here with Las-rifles or particle beam cannons or even a cardboard knife. I see anybody I even think is armed and I drop the canister.”

  “Okay.” Zora continued to aim her Las-pistol at Sally2’s chest. “What else do you want?”

  “Not going to drop your weapon? You think you can survive this strain? Should we test it right now?” Both Sally2’s hands shook slightly now, as if she were tiring, or afraid. Or perhaps the adrenaline was causing that. Zora wondered just how stable this woman was.

  “Zora,” Lendra said. “We can’t have that canister destroyed. Perhaps you should lower your weapon.”

  Zora said, “You have to be completely insane if you think I’m going to lower my Las-pistol.”

  Sally2 said, “I told you to drop it, n
ot lower it.”

  Zora shook her head. “I’m not talking to you.”

  “Must be Lendra Riley then,” Sally2 said. “Just another government pawn, trying to ensure American dominance, as if that country were somehow more special than any other, as if its people were somehow more blessed or deserving.”

  “You used to work for CINTEP,” Zora said, “just like her.”

  “That was when I realized how dangerous we were. We were so smug, so convinced we were right, trying to mold the world into our framework. That kind of moral superiority is what makes so many people around the world hate you.”

  “Hate us, you mean,” Zora said, inching forward again. “You’re an American too, remember?”

  “I escaped,” Sally2 said. “And now I’m going to free the world.”

  “Death is a great equalizer,” Zora said.

  “So you see it too?”

  Zora nodded. “It’s one way to go, but I think it’s too extreme. It violates the natural order.”

  “We’ll become extinct sooner or later,” Sally2 said.

  “Yes, but why accelerate the process?”

  “We’re a disease,” Sally2 said. Her hands shook more noticeably now. “We’re destroying too many other species to be allowed to continue. I used to think it was just America that was evil, but it’s not just them. They’re the worst, yes, but all of them are bad because all of them think they’re good.”

  “Major Somers, Timothy and Ned are almost there,” Lendra said. “Stall her as long as you can.”

  “So if we think we’re good,” Zora said, “then we’re evil? What if we think we’re evil?”

  “We’re still evil. That doesn’t change. The men who rule the world have turned us into believers in their rapacious consumption of resources. And now we humans have too much power to be trusted as stewards.”

  Sally2 closed her eyes for a second and Zora snuck a half step closer.

  “Aren’t we part of the natural order?” Zora said. “If the dinosaurs hadn’t become extinct, we never would have evolved to become the dominant species on Earth. We might still be tiny creatures, struggling to survive in a harsh environment. It was the planet that allowed us to become what we are.”