The Susquehanna Virus Box Set

by Steve McEllistrem

  “Broken,” Rebecca said. “Even Sophie.”

  “What is your fixation with Sophie?” Curtik said. “Sophie’s fine. Wait. How do you know Sophie?”

  “Nothing left,” Tad said. “Empty.”

  “Everyone lost everything,” Rebecca said.

  “You already said that,” Curtik said. “No, wait. Tad said that.”

  Dr. Poole entered the room, her eyes red. Curtik’s eyes began to water. He blinked several times, wishing there were some way he could help her, but he was no good at the touchy-feely crap. So he decided to distract her.

  “Hey, Doc,” he said. “There’s something going on with the Blantons. Tad and Rebecca are sort of echoing each other.”

  “Echoes of Sophie,” Rebecca said.

  The robot Devereaux said, “That’s common in the aftermath of a linkage. Thoughts and even emotions can get transferred from one person to another.”

  Dr. Poole said, “That’s correct. And they experienced a full linkage with Jeremiah.”

  The robot Devereaux turned to Dr. Poole and said, “You didn’t tell me that.”

  Dr. Poole said, “I didn’t think it . . . is that significant?”

  “Perhaps. Tell me about Sophie.”

  “She’s fine. She’s recovering from the virus. You know that. You’re the one who created the appropriate treatment.”

  “Yes,” the robot replied, “but does Jeremiah know Sophie is safe?”

  “Um, no. He was out in the field when you arrived. He hasn’t been awake more than a minute at a time since then.”

  Quark touched the robot’s shoulder and said, “What are you thinking?”

  “We should let Jeremiah know that Sophie is doing well.”

  “How do we do that?” Curtik asked. “He’s happy wallowing in his misery.”

  The robot Devereaux turned to Curtik. “You—bring Sophie to his room.”

  “Who? Me?” Curtik shook his head. “No, I think you want Zora or Lendra or Dr. Poole.”

  “You,” Devereaux insisted.

  “What do I do? Just sit there with her waiting for him to wake up?”

  The robot said, “You’ll know what to do.”

  Beside him, Quark nodded slowly, as if Devereaux had just made a profound statement.

  “It’s a good idea,” Dr. Poole said. “You’re his son. She’s his daughter. If anything can restore his fighting spirit, you two should be able to do it.”

  “Fine. I’ll go.” Curtik turned to Sally23. “But I’m not done with you. Understand?”

  Sally23 smiled. “Yes.”

  “Good. I’ll be back to see you before you leave. And I’ll visit as often as I can. And we’ll vid-talk every day. It won’t be so bad. You’ll see. I’m charming. I’m lovable. You won’t be able to resist me.”

  Sally23 laughed. “And bloody full of yerself, yeah.” She gripped his hand. Curtik’s chest expanded and his throat swelled.

  It had to be love.

  ***

  Curtik sat beside Jeremiah’s bed, holding Sophie in his arms, talking to Jeremiah, informing him that Sophie was alive. She had fallen asleep shortly after he entered the room, about twenty minutes ago. He felt foolish, everyone looking on via holo-projection, as if some miracle were about to occur. Jeremiah remained in a self-hypnotic state, the AutoLife machine ready to take over his heart and lung functions if necessary.

  “This is silly,” Curtik finally said to Lendra. “How long do I have to talk to him? How many times do I have to tell him Sophie’s here and wants to see her daddy? He doesn’t care. He wants to die.”

  “Be patient,” Lendra said.

  “Give him Sophie,” Zora said.

  “He can’t hold a baby,” Curtik said. “He’s unconscious.”

  Hannah said, “Lay her on his chest. Just keep a hand on her back.”

  “I’m not sure that’s a good idea,” Lendra said. “If he wakes suddenly, he could react violently.” She stood up. “I should be there.”

  “No,” Dr. Poole said. “Just Curtik.”

  “You mind telling me why?”

  Your smell may bring negative associations.”

  Curtik laughed. “Smelly Laundry. I like it.”

  At that, Sophie awoke. She spotted Curtik’s grin and smiled. “Okey, dokey, Sis,” Curtik said. “Let’s see what you can do.”

  As he held Sophie out, she clung to his shirt. “It’s okay,” he said. “I’m right here.”

  He placed Sophie on Jeremiah’s chest, keeping his hand on her back, ready to yank her to safety if necessary, then glanced up at the AutoLife machine’s monitor. Almost immediately he detected a change in heartrate and breathing pattern. “You seein’ this, Doc?”

  “I see it, Curtik,” Dr. Poole replied. “Now he knows that you and Sophie are both alive.”

  “He’s waking up,” Zora said. “Look at his eyelids.”

  Curtik looked down. Sure enough, Jeremiah’s eyelids were fluttering. “Ooh,” he said. “Watch the great man blink his eyes. Now watch him move his fingers.” This isn’t the time for sarcasm. “I’ll be damned. Is Devereaux never wrong? How the hell did he know that? He’s some kind of smarty pants.”

  Jeremiah’s right hand slowly lifted until it reached Sophie. It climbed her legs, stopping when it touched Curtik’s hand. It retreated an inch, then climbed over Curtik’s hand until it rested softly on Sophie’s back. She waved her arms and kicked her legs as she lifted her head to stare at Jeremiah’s face.

  Jeremiah opened his eyes.

  “Welcome to the world, Pappy,” Curtik said. “What took you so long?”

  Jeremiah looked into Curtik’s eyes. “I was waiting for you to shut up.”

  “Ha! Funny. I’m the best thing that ever happened to you—me and Sophie.”

  “Yes you are.”

  “Oh, for God’s sake. You’re such a liar. You and I don’t get along. We never will. You’re so damn serious about everything.”

  That brought a hint of a smile.

  “And you, Curtik, are full of life and humor, just like your mother. I wish I was more like that.”

  “Everyone wants to be like me,” Curtik said. “Why should you be any different?”

  A real smile this time.

  “We got company,” Curtik said, tilting his head toward the holo-projections.

  Jeremiah looked past Curtik. Something changed in his eyes, as if a tiny light had died. He frowned and said, “The virus?”

  “You stopped it,” Lendra spoke through the holo-projection.

  “Major Payne?”

  “He’s fine,” Dr. Poole answered. “Some broken bones, a mangled kidney and a concussion, but he’ll recover. How do you feel?”

  Jeremiah shrugged, wincing. “Done.”

  Lendra said, “What does that mean?”

  “It means,” Jeremiah paused for a moment, “I’ve got nothing left to give.”

  Zora stepped forward in the holo-projection and stared at Jeremiah’s face. “You’re overexerting yourself. You should rest. I worry that you’ll . . .”

  She wiped her eyes with the back of her hand.

  “Thank you,” Jeremiah said.

  Blushing, Zora lifted her head. “For what?”

  “For caring about me.”

  “I’ll always care about you.”

  “I hope so,” Jeremiah said, focusing his attention on Zora as if Curtik and Sophie were no longer in the room with him, as if Ned and Lendra and Dr. Poole and Hannah had walked away, “because I’ll always care about you.”

  “Oh, Jeremiah,” Zora said. “When I thought you were going to die, I wished I had the chance to tell you how much I love you.”

  Jeremiah shook his head slowly. “I’m not worthy of love.”

  Zora said, “Yes, you are.”r />
  “No. I failed too many times. With Joshua.” He glanced at Curtik. “Yes, you overcame my failure, but you never should have had to endure what you did. Then there was Catherine,” he looked at Ned, “and Julianna.”

  Ned nodded and smiled sadly.

  “Even Eli,” Jeremiah continued. “I knew what he was capable of, and yet I didn’t recognize how far he’d drifted from the moral path.” He focused on Zora again. “I let him steal you and your fellow cadets away from your families, brainwash you, alter you physically. All because I didn’t see the monster he had become. But you,” Jeremiah smiled, “have so much potential. There’s so much goodness in you, so much life. I wish only the best for you.”

  Zora said, “You make it sound like you’re dying.”

  “I’m retiring.”

  “I can leave too,” Zora said.

  “I can’t take you with me. I’d be afraid of corrupting you, of sullying your sweet disposition, of turning you into me.”

  Zora inhaled fiercely. “Now you listen to me, Jeremiah. I’ve been thinking about this for a long time. I think Eli played with your mind—just like he played with ours. Curtik even said that you had been programmed with a Superman complex. I don’t think it’s quite that. I think it’s more a guilt complex or a martyr complex. Eli made you feel undeserving, so you’d do your damnedest to help others, so you’d feel this enormous sense of responsibility. You’re the most selfless man I’ve ever met. For you to feel unworthy is, well, stupid.”

  “I can’t change what I feel,” Jeremiah said.

  “But you can,” Zora replied. “Devereaux could fix you.”

  Jeremiah shook his head. “I don’t want to be fixed. As much as I loathe what I’ve done, I’m afraid of losing the essence of myself.” He turned to Curtik and said, “Do you want Devereaux to fix me?”

  “No,” Curtik said. “I like you just fine the way you are.”

  “You want him damaged?” Zora said.

  “You don’t understand,” Curtik said to Zora. “You didn’t see how different Sally23 was. I don’t know what changes were made to Jeremiah. I don’t know how much he might be altered if his conditioning was taken away. But if Devereaux deprogrammed him and he became a different person, would you still love him?”

  Zora stood rigid, her hands clenched into fists at her side. “I’ll always love him.”

  “Probably,” Curtik said, “but you might not like him as much. He might not be as heroic or as selfless. This is the only person I can remember Jeremiah being. I don’t recall enough of what he was like before I was taken.”

  Zora turned to Dr. Poole. “Well?”

  Dr. Poole nodded. “Eli’s records indicate that Jeremiah received minor conditioning. But he’s largely the person he always was.”

  “This is a crazy conversation,” Lendra said. She turned to Jeremiah. “We just want you to get better. All the rest can wait.”

  Jeremiah said, “I need to speak now while things are clear in my mind. I’m done—with CINTEP, with saving the world, with all of it.” Sophie squirmed atop his chest. He patted her back. “You all seem to think we can make a difference, that we can change the world, make it better. But I’ve been used too many times by too many powerful people to further their bankrupt agendas. I’ve been lied to and programmed and manipulated to advance their narrow ideals. I’ve lost the ability to trust. Every time I’m aimed at some target in the name of some noble principle, the mission gets twisted to satisfy some perverted desire. And innocents suffer.

  “I may not be evil. I may be just a tool of the rich and powerful. But I can’t work on their behalf any longer. They will never cede control of this world. They create governments and then corrupt them to maintain their stranglehold.

  “They dictate what we think and how we act with subtle conditioning. They haven’t yet directly invaded our minds to program us, but they’re close. Soon we’ll be willing slaves to their whims. They’ll keep us addicted to our servitude because they’ll paint a picture of an alternative so hellish that we’ll beg to serve them even more.”

  Again Sophie squirmed. Jeremiah rubbed her back. His eyelids flickered, as if he were struggling to stay awake.

  “I wish it weren’t true,” he said, his voice softer now. “I wish we could win, but it’s too late. We gave them the power because they promised to keep us safe. We trusted them because they promised to serve. We ignored those whispers of doubt, that we were sacrificing our future for the present. And now the yoke rests upon our necks and they stand behind us with their whips poised. We lost.”

  “So the Sallies were right?” Curtik said. “We ought to just wipe out humanity?”

  “No, of course not. But every government is either corrupt or on the road to corruption. It doesn’t matter whether it’s a capitalist one or a socialist one or a communist one. The people in power eventually become concerned only with staying in power. Nothing else matters quite as much.”

  Curtik said, “So you’re going to retreat to your porch alone, lock yourself in your dungeon, do your penance, stare out at the mountains because you fell for their lies. And you’re going to let them get away with it? That doesn’t sound like you.”

  “I’m not the man I used to be.”

  “That’s true,” Curtik said. “You’re beyond human now—almost like Devereaux. You think if you stay in the game, they’ll figure out new ways to use you to beat us down. Only by abandoning us can you lift us up.”

  “Something like that,” Jeremiah said.

  “What a crock! We need you now more than ever. You don’t have to fight any more battles. I’ll fight the battles—me and Zora. You just aim us. You’re old and tired. I get that. But old guys teach young guys—that’s the way of the world. You owe me that. You owe Zora that. And you owe Sophie that.”

  Again Jeremiah’s eyelids flickered.

  “So go ahead and sleep, old man. Rest up because we’re gonna need you in the revolution. We’re bringing the fight to them now. Right?”

  He turned to look at the others.

  “Well said,” Dr. Poole replied.

  Zora nodded. Ned and Hannah smiled. Even Lendra looked pleased.

  Jeremiah handed Sophie to Curtik. He pulled her to his chest, then reached over and rearranged the thermal sheet, tucking it under his father’s chin. “You’ll see,” he said. “We’ll find a way to beat them. If we stand together, we can win.”

  “You go get ’em, son. Give ’em hell.”

  Curtik smiled. He stood, opened the door and emerged into the unknown, into a fight he could believe in. This was gonna be fun.

  Chapter 1

  Curtik stood in the light rain across the street from the Natural Hybrids Incorporated building wearing the face of a woman who died several years ago. A good disguise, he had to admit, even if the idea hadn’t been his. He made no effort to hide from the surveillance cameras. They would register him as Julianna Wentworth, a deceased CINTEP agent who had been his father’s partner many years ago. But by the time that data got passed to someone who might question it, Curtik would be gone. He flexed his mechanical right hand, a little annoyed at the residual pain lingering where the nerves in his wrist connected to the prosthetic. Yet the hand felt powerful and alive.

  “You look ridiculous in that dress,” Zora spoke softly in his head. He knew she was watching him from a window on the fourth floor. She’d managed to disarm the security system on a basement entrance to gain access.

  You don’t like my ensemble? Curtik replied via his implant.

  “Julianna never wore dresses.”

  How do you know?

  “I read her file.”

  It makes me look less threatening.

  “You look like a loony. I can see your pants under your dress. Anything yet?”

  Still waiting.

  Always waiting. Either for Lendra
or Jeremiah or somebody else. He wished he could just spring into action. The Center for International Economic Policy had officially been created by Elias Leach to fight terrorism and engage in espionage, but in actuality it served as a tool for whatever the President of the United States wanted. And usually the President wanted to keep a stranglehold on power and maintain the status quo so that the large contributors who made election victories possible would stay loyal.

  Now Lendra Riley ran CINTEP, taking orders from President Angelica Hope, doing the necessary things to keep the President in power and America near the top of the economic world. However, the good old days had vanished. Lendra, on orders from President Hope, had shut down the Operations section, prohibiting Eli’s policies of assassination and sabotage. Only a few field agents remained. Everyone else in CINTEP worked in Analytical.

  At least Lendra had allowed Curtik to train as a CINTEP ghost—a secret agent like Jeremiah used to be—but whether he’d ever get to go on assignments like Jeremiah was an open question. This particular mission was unsanctioned and outside CINTEP’s jurisdiction.

  “Just help him,” Lendra had said when she lent Curtik and Zora to Jeremiah. “I don’t want details. This is below the radar.”

  At least that part was easy. Curtik couldn’t give her details when he still wasn’t sure what the mission was.

  So was Lendra helping Jeremiah? Was Jeremiah helping Lendra? Were they in cahoots or just cooperating occasionally? Their relationship, no longer physical, was too complicated to grasp. And Jeremiah had almost completely vanished from sight, contacting them only by audio messages, dispersing minimal amounts of information, like now.

  At that moment Edwin Fowler III exited the plas-glass door and scuttled to his waiting car—a fully armored Mercedes—head down, coat pulled up around his ears. He slid inside as the car door swung shut behind him, then accelerated away.

  Okay, we’re a go, Curtik sent as he released the drone, about as large as a hummingbird. The drone flew over Fowler’s Mercedes, tracking him and relaying the data to Curtik’s implant.

  “Moving now,” Zora replied via her interface. “Just entering his office. I’ll need a few minutes.”