Bioterror

by Tim Curran

  “First has already been arranged. I’ll get on the second right now.”

  There. He could still make this work. God, yes, I can. I will rule. In the end, only I will rule. Only I can drag the carcass of the Union from the ashes and breathe life into it. Feeling somewhat better, he thumbed the intercom. He would have his secretary bring him a coffee. That would go down well.

  There was no response.

  “Doris! I need you,” he called.

  Nothing.

  He tried the other secretaries. Still nothing. Dammit. What was going on? Frustrated, he thumbed the buttons for the office of the Associate Deputy Director. Nothing. The Chief of Staff. Nothing. General Counsel. Public Affairs. Inspector General. Operations Center. Foreign Intel. Nothing, nothing, and nothing.

  I can’t be alone. That’s not possible.

  Panicking, he raced to the door and threw it open… and screamed.

  What stood there was a man… yet, it was not a man but a gory, crawling thing, a catastrophic anatomical meltdown that looked like a man that had been turned inside out, a nameless cosmic afterbirth threaded by dozens and dozens of long, creeping worms. It rippled and gushed and coiled, spilling blood and serum and seeping drainage to the floor. It reached out for him with a rawboned hand. And its face, like the pulp of crushed tomatoes, was infested with wriggling spawn, a seething, pulsating wormy yarn ball. Where its eyes should have been, bloated worms with sucking black mouths jutted forth like eyestalks.

  But despite all that, as uber-spook DCI Robert Pershing felt his bowels let go and hot shit run down his legs, he knew it was Tommy Quillan.

  “The President is expecting us,” the horror said.

  CHICAGO, CHINATOWN:

  PING TOM MEMORIAL PARK

  10:33 A.M

  "Hello, Harry.”

  He turned and she was there, Shawna was right there, and his heart began to race because he had really, honestly, and painfully thought he would never see her again. It was like waking from some awful nightmare or coming out of a prolonged fever.

  “My God,” he said, “it’s really you.”

  “Yes.”

  He scooped her into his arms, and she hugged him back. He kissed her mouth, and it was cold. That was the first thing he thought. Her mouth was cold, but her body felt very hot. He wasn’t fool enough to believe that it had anything to do with any passion for him… this was something else. She was burning as if she had a terrible fever. He could only think of one thing that could cause it and it made him pull back in horror.

  “Are you all right?”

  “Of course, I’m all right.”

  He reached up a hand and pressed it against her brow. “You feel warm,” he said, narrowing his eyes. “I mean, really warm.”

  “I’ve been running, Harry. I thought someone was after me, so I ran. It was probably just my paranoia.” She smiled. “I’m pretty sure I don’t have the worm.”

  “That’s good.”

  “You don’t sound relieved at all.” She offered him a little girl pout. “And here I was hoping we could slip off into the bushes for a quickie.”

  That made him smile. At least momentarily. She said that because she thought that’s what I wanted to hear. She’s trying to distract me from something else. He stood there, staring at her, suspicious as hell. He should have been overjoyed to be with her… but he wasn’t. Was he losing his mind, or did there seem to be something almost synthetic about her? Contrived? He shook his head. That was ridiculous. This was Shawna… and yet some part of him thought it wasn’t Shawna at all.

  He took her by the hand and led her over to a bench in the distance. It wasn’t a matter of being alone. Today, there was no one in the park. A relaxing day of fun and sun was the farthest thing from anyone’s mind.

  “So, tell me what happened,” he said to her, releasing her hand which, like the rest of her, was too warm, too…something.

  She blinked three times, then smiled thinly. “Oh, it was a real mess, Harry. A guy named Stein rescued me from the mall. He was a killer, an assassin. He killed two of the goons that came for me and beat the hell out of the other one. I’ve never seen anything like it in my life. He took me to a house. He said it was a safe house. He told me about something called S5, which were part of the CIA or something.”

  “What happened to him?”

  She sighed, rubbing her eyes. “He was killed. Some guy dressed as a pizza guy came to the front door and shot him down.”

  “And you?”

  She blinked her eyes three times again. “I ran. I’ve been running since. I finally made it to Gabe’s. But he’s not there. I don’t know where he is.”

  “So you’ve been hiding?”

  “Yes.”

  She blinked her eyes again three times and it did not go unnoticed. There was something very off about her, but he honestly couldn’t put his finger on what exactly it was. It was as if she was being imitated and the imitation was nearly perfect… but not completely. Her mannerisms weren’t quite right. That strange blinking. Even her voice sounded off-timbre, her eyes glassy.

  “Are you sure you’re okay?” he asked.

  For a moment there, something softened around her mouth and she trembled. Her eyes got watery. She nodded slowly. “I’m fine, really I am.” Her voice lost that odd mechanical cadence. “I’m okay.”

  He held her, but she did not conform herself properly to him. Her body seemed nearly artificial as if he were hugging a mannequin. It sent a chill up his spine.

  She pulled herself away. “I’m perfectly fine now that I’ve found you.”

  She smiled, but he didn’t like it. It was a crooked smile, the left side of her mouth pulling up higher than the right. Shawna did not smile like that—like an old lady with a terrible secret. Her eyes seemed to go out of focus.

  “Shawna? I want you to think and tell me what happened. Did they do something to you?”

  She blinked her eyes three times again. “I ran. I’ve been running since. I finally made it to Gabe’s. But he’s not there. I don’t know where he is,” she said.

  Same words. Same exact intonation. They did something to her. Probably the same thing the Old Man was going to do to you if they hadn’t gotten you out of the Warehouse.

  “Well, I’m just glad you’re okay.”

  She stared into space. “What should we do?”

  He stood up and took her by the hand, something he was not completely comfortable with. “We’re going to a place where we can stop running. A place where we can rest and relax.”

  “Oh, I’d like that. It sounds nice.”

  She didn’t even ask where that was. Yes, they had done something to her. She was traumatized at a very deep level. Whatever it was, it was bound to come out. And that’s what scared him.

  WASHINGTON, D.C:

  THE PIEDMONT BUILDING, 11:07 A.M.

  Of course they kept her waiting; Elizabeth expected that much. She was about to meet possibly the most powerful group of people in the world, the engineers of the New World Order. They controlled industries and politicians and world events. They were the puppet masters and there was not a single event of political or economic significance that they did not have their hand in. What was another trifling appointment to them?

  And never forget for one moment, Astrid, she thought, that they are probably not too happy with me. I forced this meeting and that will not go unpunished, my darling.

  Patiently, she waited, sipping her Kopi Luwak, exuding a regal poise in her ruby-red Victoria Beckham power dress. None of the suits and flunkies that passed through the lobby of the exclusive penthouse offices of Exceptional Futures, Ltd. would have suspected for a moment the hot, bubbling cauldron she was on the inside, the seam of pure hate running through her veins, or the need for vengeance that beat in her black heart.

  No, she was calm, composed, a woman of substance and power. She often surprised even herself that the hotter her emotions ran beneath the surface, the cooler her exterior was. She
had disarmed countless enemies with it. But today there would be no games. The playing field would be leveled—predator against predator.

  “Ms. Toma? Mr. Brown will see you now.”

  Elizabeth swallowed, smiled slightly, her belly filled with a swarm of butterflies. You are a soldier going into battle. Never forget that. Never weaken in your resolve. She followed the well-dressed secretary down the corridor. My God, it was business as usual at Exceptional Futures, Ltd. (you had to love the name of their cover organization). You wouldn’t have thought that the country was crashing on all fronts and the city was in chaos. But then, what was there to worry about when you already knew the outcome?

  She was brought into a marvelous oak-paneled conference room with a massive cherry boardroom table. A distinguished man in a charcoal-gray suit that matched his watery eyes waited for her. No one had to tell her this was the mysterious Mr. Brown. His white hair was combed straight back from his forehead like Count Dracula.

  How fitting with the amount of blood he’s sucked, she thought.

  “Ah, fair Elizabeth, we meet at last.”

  His handshake was limp and oily. He grinned with beautifully white teeth, a piranha in a business suit, his appetite for human flesh barely kept at bay.

  He motioned to the others at the table. “This is Mr. White, Ms. Smith, Mr. Cho, Mr. Daniels, and Mr. Constadine.”

  They were quite a group. Mr. White had the pallor of a drowned man. Ms. Smith was dangerously cadaverous as if she might crumble to dust in direct sunlight. Mr. Cho’s sniping dark eyes made you feel weak in the knee. Mr. Daniels, an African-American, had the long narrow teeth of a rodent. And Mr. Constadine had a widow’s peak and thin black mustache that made him look like a comic book Satan.

  “Pleased to meet each of you,” Elizabeth said, with all due respect to their positions and power.

  She sat down. Mr. Brown stared at her with dead eyes. She stared back with great intensity.

  “Let’s put our cards on the table, shall we?” he said. “I promised you full disclosure and that’s what you shall have.”

  “I could ask for no more.”

  Ms. Smith said, “I am much-admiring your beautiful jade necklace. It’s exquisite.”

  “Thank you. It’s Cartier.”

  “Marvelous,” said Mr. Constadine. “Absolutely marvelous.”

  Elizabeth smiled. It was definitely a one-of-a-kind piece. A large jadeite broach surrounded by smaller jade beads, all of a brilliant emerald color that instantly caught the eye. It was mounted in platinum, set with cut rubies and baguette diamonds. She touched it briefly, left it there outside her dress for them to admire.

  “Now to business, Elizabeth,” said Mr. Brown, dispensing with trivialities. “First off, might I say that was an excellent stratagem sending the details of our agenda to Charles VanderMissen and Harry Niles. Brilliant. The trail led perfectly to Gordon Parks. Outstanding work. I commend your subterfuge. Now the news has been disseminated to the four corners of the world. And our good Mr. Pershing, never one to miss exploiting an opportunity, has launched a propaganda blitz further discrediting the NSA.”

  Elizabeth smiled. “I’m glad you found it entertaining. Gordon Parks is and will always be an impotent little fool.”

  Mr. Brown raised an eyebrow. Perhaps he was expecting an apology or at the very least, a denial. It was clear that he had underestimated her. She was a woman who knew exactly what she was doing.

  “True, very true, Elizabeth,” he said, his eyes darkening. “But he was our fool to play and not yours.”

  “I see.”

  “Which brings us to our dilemma,” said Mr. Cho.

  Mr. Brown sighed. “What you did was reckless, Elizabeth. You’ve caused us great trouble and have possibly caused irreparable harm to the agenda. And we cannot tolerate that in any form. I think you understand that.”

  “I understand a great many things I didn’t a week ago,” was all she would say.

  Several of The Collective muttered amongst themselves. This was endgame. Mr. Brown had her up against the wall and now he would deliver the death blow. They were all waiting for it. By God, they looked hungry for it as if they got off on things like this.

  Here it comes, Astrid. Stay tuned.

  “I’ve personally spent a lot of time cultivating you, Elizabeth. Guiding you, forming you into the executive you are today. We had high hopes for you. Ultimately, we saw you sitting at this table.”

  “Which is why you ran MINDWORM through Gordon Parks and not me?”

  That was a slap in the face and Mr. Brown grimaced. He was a typical CEO in that he was not used to being told the truth. He was accustomed to being addressed with great fawning deference, having people tell him what he wanted to hear (which was usually something he’d already told them; like all supposedly great men, he liked to hear his subordinates propagating his ideas).

  “I don’t find your attitude at all becoming, Elizabeth. I dislike confrontational personalities.”

  She said nothing, even though she was raging under the skin. He was a pompous bag of hot air like all men in power. He wasn’t used to people like her.

  I am the pin that will pop your ego and bleed the air from it.

  “I was hoping this meeting would go far differently,” he said.

  She shook her head. “Somehow, I doubt that, Mr. Brown. I’m willing to bet you had this planned out the same way you plan everything out. You consult your collection of toads here, but ultimately the decision is yours and being the meticulous creature you are, the result is a given. You don’t like chance or coincidence. That’s for the herds, isn’t it? The human population out there whom you crush, contain, and kill depending on your whims?”

  “I won’t be talked to like that!” he snapped.

  The Collective cringed. It was not a good idea to anger Mr. Brown. One word from him and the rich became poor, dynasties crumbled, and politicians were ruined.

  He’ll play his hand out now, Astrid. He’ll finally pull his thumb out of his ass and get to it.

  Offering her a sneering grin, he reached under the table and produced an aluminum case. He unsnapped it carefully and removed a vacuum-sealed jar from within. He set the jar on the table along with a forceps. There was a worm in the jar.

  “Your future looks bleak, Elizabeth. I wish there was another way, but you’ve forced my hand.” He slid the jar over to her. “Take the worm as punishment for your interference and insolence. That is not a request.”

  Did he expect her to beg for her life? If so, he was disappointed. Nothing he said or did was unexpected. She knew exactly what she was coming into and had prepared herself accordingly.

  She shook her head. “I have to admit that the ultimate goal of MINDWORM is lost on me. You’ll have an entire country and, soon enough, an entire world parasitized. What good will that do you? How does that advance the agenda?”

  Mr. Brown smiled. “Well, the worms will reduce the herds to what they should be—mindless drones. Once ECHO is activated, we will have a population of consumers and workers whose overriding desire will be to keep the wheels of industry spinning. Imagine what we can achieve once we’re all on the same page!”

  “It’s doomed to failure.”

  “Why?”

  “The human animal must have something to struggle against. Any second-year psych student could have told you that.”

  “Something other than himself, eh? No matter. Selective programming will take care of that. The herds will be servile and productive. And those few of us immune to the parasites, via a certain medication, will be their masters. We will think for them, make choices for them, control their destiny for the common good. Once they have a worm in them, Elizabeth, the ECHO technology can control them completely.”

  “I see.”

  He tittered. “Do you really, Elizabeth?”

  She picked up the jar. “Ah, one of your children, Mr. Brown. How it resembles its father. Equally as soft and spineless.” She looked over a
t him, fixing him with her dark eyes. She tucked her jade necklace into her dress where it rested between her breasts, making full contact with her skin. Already it was growing warm from her body heat.

  “Do you remember Astrid, Mr. Brown?”

  He looked at her first blankly, then with undisguised contempt. He said nothing.

  Elizabeth looked at the others. “Astrid was Astrid Austin. She worked for the CDC. She was my best friend and lover. Mr. Brown did not care for our relationship, so he had her murdered. He probably doesn’t remember because I’m sure he’s murdered thousands since like a good little sociopath, but I remember.” She was glaring at him now. “I’ll never fucking forget what you did to her, you worthless piece of shit.”

  “Enough!” he said. “There is your choice. The worm or you’ll skydive off the roof. Choose. If you don’t swallow the worm, you will not leave these offices alive.”

  Elizabeth could feel the necklace getting very hot between her breasts, almost painfully so now as if it was branding her. She could handle a few more moments of pain. “Oh, you silly, arrogant little twat—none of us will leave these offices alive.”

  She had their attention now, not that she lacked it. Mr. Brown stared at her with derision. The others looked frightened, but not him. He was a veteran game-player and he was obviously intrigued.

  “Are you familiar with the process of co-crystallization, Mr. Brown? It’s a concept from materials science wherein two materials are combined into a crystal architecture in order to create a single improved material,” she explained. “It’s something our people at CBT have taken an interest in for possible military applications. For example, the Army’s standard explosive HMK can be combined with a new, much more powerful explosive called CL-20. This hybrid has the stability of the former with the awesome, devastating capabilities of the latter. It’s a real breakthrough, as you can understand. This new crystalline material can be formed into just about anything… like a jade necklace for example.”

  Everyone, including Mr. Brown, stiffened. Their eyes were wide. They were eying the door and wondering how quickly they could get through it.