Most all were smiling, nodding, enjoying their individual and collective specialness.
Dr. Brown added fuel: “Tonight you’ll be given access to your private, encrypted server. Communication, coordination, and organization are vital if we are to succeed. And something else is equally vital.”
He held up a small vial of red liquid. “You’ve never seen this in its pure form. Its official name is CAV-A. This is the magical elixir that Comet Avery showered upon us from the heavens.” He raised it as if in a toast to the gathering. “This is—the gift.” His audience was entranced. “When Bradford Mitchell discovered its power and potency, he wisely took it to a very special lady.” He gestured toward Lauren, who nodded regally to acknowledge the reverend’s attention.
I watched Mitchell eye Lauren like a commanding general surveying his crack troops as thunder rolled closer outside. “She is Dr. Lauren Fletcher of the Centers for Disease Control. She was already one of the leading molecular biologists of our day. But when Bradford Mitchell brought the comet’s mind-enlarging gift to her, Dr. Fletcher’s own mind expanded to new heights of brilliance. And now she has given us a wonderful second gift of her own.”
The reverend held up another small vial. Of yellow liquid. He paused dramatically, watched his audience focus on it. “She has developed a secondary virus. Designated CAV-B. It also increases intelligence and the driving determination we have each felt—but—to only half the potency of that with which we have been blessed.” His shining eyes swept around the old church. “Do you understand what that means, my dear friends?”
I did. I felt myself go pale.
“It means”—the reverend smiled—“that we Friends have the capability of creating eager followers. They will share a half portion of our passions, our intelligence, and our drive—but—they will respect our innate superiority. We’ll always need a majority to handle the less desirable grunt work, but we Friends will retain the high command. We are the A’s. They, the B’s, will become our foot soldiers”—he chuckled—“our worker B’s.”
His audience laughed, but I felt a fist tightening around my heart.
“If we do not flaunt our intellectual abilities,” he continued, “but use them wisely, subtly, in concert with our special brothers and sisters, there’ll be no need for ugly, divisive purges of the elected leadership of our communities. We Friends can be a level of control behind and above the elected leaders!”
I saw that the crowd was bedazzled, their individual heads spinning with possibilities. Even young Darren was getting caught up in the enthusiasm of the mob, and one of the gray-suits actually had a trace of a smile. Dr. Brown spoke quietly, drawing them all further into his confidence, “Have you noticed how our local government is running just a bit smoother lately? How the state supreme court justices have slowly been getting in step together on rulings that all of us here would approve of?” His smile became more cagey. “It’s not a coincidence.”
The crowd was frozen now. Their superior minds were beginning to clearly see the shape of things to come as he continued, “Many in our current local and state government got elected by appealing to the rising tide of populism. But those leaders haven’t gone nearly far enough. They need to press harder. To root out all dissenting voices. They need to unify their efforts into one single irresistible force. But to do that they’d need to be smarter. And unfortunately they can only be so smart. Because they are only human.”
He raised his thick eyebrows. “Ah, but that’s where we come in. Since we are extraordinary humans. Are we not?” His listeners purred positively. “Indeed we are. Those leaders need our superior guidance. So it is our charge, our sacred responsibility, my friends, to fan out into our communities with our brilliant intellects and quiet confidence, with insight and infinite subtlety, to quietly . . . take control and guide every aspect of our society with the wisdom of Solomon—which only we possess!”
The crowd applauded, for themselves it seemed, being more and more drawn in. Their minds must have raced with the prospects of holding dominion over others. “We have begun carefully.” Dr. Brown went on, “The CAV-B was cautiously administered to certain few elected officials.” The reverend doctor smiled. “You could call it the ultimate campaign contribution.”
Navarro and others grinned with growing amazement, relishing the fact that they were a part of something so enormous and compelling.
“And not just in government,” the reverend continued. “We’ve also begun bringing into the fold leaders in business as well as large sections of the police and militia. And the news media. They’re becoming our helpmates, our minions, our worker B’s, followers of you! Followers who will take whatever effective actions we direct!”
Standing among the organ pipes above and behind them, I could barely breathe. I felt dizzy from what I was witnessing.
A grandiose enthusiasm was swelling within the assemblage. Mitchell scanned them with the hawklike eyes of a born predator. I saw in him a creature that could embrace many high crimes in the name of “effective actions.”
“And obviously,” Dr. Brown said, “in serving our communities we may have many legitimate and appropriate opportunities to secure our own financial futures, but that’s just a pleasant side effect. Far more important—I’m sure—will be the rewards we will feel in our hearts and souls.”
Charley Flinn. . .
Folks clapped really hard. So’d I, but thinking, I’ll take it in the wallet, thanks.
Dr. Susan Perry. . .
The powerful reverend inhaled deeply. “Everything,” he said, building toward his conclusion, “is falling into place and will soon be ready!” Some applause began again. “The die is cast!” A burst of lightning flashed through the tall windows, and the astute reverend instantly co-opted it. “That lightning is us! We, all of us, with our great secret, we, too, shall flash across this city! Across this great state! And beyond. Sunrise tomorrow brings a new day! A glorious new era!”
The applause grew louder, many people were on their feet now, creating a huge groundswell, which the reverend rode upon as he brought his message to its grand finale: “And with the divine gift, which destiny has placed into our hands, into our brains”—he drew a mighty breath and roared over their joyful noise one powerful word at a time—“this new era will be OURS!”
The crowd exploded with electrified acclamation!
Up in the rafters I was staggered. Terrified. On the move. I hurried across the dark attic, out through the third-floor window onto the rainy fire escape. I was so agitated and fearful as I rushed onto the metal steps that I slipped, almost killing myself when my rain jacket got snagged and ripped. I barely grabbed a handhold. Then I was frightened by a metallic clatter in the alley below. The guard?! I hugged the wall closely, looked down, but didn’t see her. So I scrambled down faster than was safe, finally dropped breathlessly from the ladder onto the wet pavement, and ran to find Hutch.
Jimmy-Joe Hartman. . .
Poppa tol’ me later how he’d gone back to his night shift at the CDC. Said he was troubled in his soul by what he seen in that church. He wuz walkin’ down a back hallway when this teenage girl come crashin’ down through the ceiling in a shower of dust, landin’ right in front of him.
Poppa jumped! “Lord have mercy! What you doin’, child!”
Katie McLane. . .
I was kinda dazed. Exhausted from crawling inch by inch what seemed like a mile. This older man in a janitor uniform helped me up. “Who are you, child? How’d you get up in—”
“I’ve gotta get out!” I said, breathing hard. “He’s after me!”
“Easy now, child.” He was picking chunks of plaster from my tangled ringlets. “Who’s after you?”
“My father! He’s trying to get me! And he’s one of them! Please let me—” I saw his ID badge, stopped dead. “Joseph?” I looked up to his eyes, scared of what I thought I saw in them. “Oh no . . . not that Joseph. Not you, too. Please! Let me go!”
But Jos
eph held my arm tightly, staring down at me. Then we both heard running footsteps and shouted voices coming our way. One yelled, “Stop right there, mister!”
The other voice was my dad’s, much closer, shouting angrily, “Katie, goddammit! Where the hell are you!?”
My eyes riveted onto Joseph’s. And suddenly I felt this, I don’t know, kind of rise inside me. I was still scared to death but strangely calm. Like I knew instinctively what I had to do. It was the most focused I’d ever been in my life. Like somehow I knew he’d understand. “Joseph,” I said firmly, one slow word at a time, “you must let me go.”
The old man stared at me. Yes, that creepy gleam was in his eyes. But it seemed like there was a flicker of something else happening inside him, too. Some wrestling going on way down deep. Like in spite of being infected, being one of them, he understood. Saw the urgent determination on my face. And he knew what was right.
He let go his grip on me.
I stared into his conflicted eyes, and in that instant I knew he saw my appreciation.
“Katie?!” My father’s furious voice was nearly on top of us.
“Hurry, child,” Joseph whispered, shakily pointing the way. “Go.”
I did. I dashed down the corridor, around a corner, and out a back door. It was pouring rain. I heard another alarm sounding behind me, but I didn’t look back.
I ran as fast as I could, blinking the rain out of my eyes. I made it up to rain-drenched Clifton Road, running across it through passing cars, and rounded another corner, then I sagged against a wall, completely breathless, shaking from exertion. I looked around every which way, feeling danger from every direction. I wasn’t sure where to run. Except away.
I hurried from brightly lighted Clifton heading up another side street and deeper into the rainy darkness.
Dr. Susan Perry. . .
I was running up windswept Courtland through the rain toward Auburn, soaked to the bone, but mindless of it given what I’d just experienced. I looked around nervously for some sign of the cavalry until a hand grabbed me and pulled me into a dark doorway.
I shouted and started to struggle, then saw it was Hutch. The left side of his face was badly bruised. Drops of fresh blood mixed with raindrops traced down from his hairline. I gasped, “Oh my God! What’d they do to you?” He’d been battered, was more of a mess than me. I ran my trembling fingers over his face, checking his bruises and wounds.
He was very calm. “I’m okay. It’s not as bad as it looks.”
I glanced around quickly. “Are the others on the way? Wait’ll they see what I recorded!” I was reaching into my jacket pocket—and realized it was torn open. My phone was gone. I flashed on that metallic clatter in the alley. “No!” I shouted frantically. “Shit! Shit! I’ve gotta go back! It’s all on my phone—”
I turned to run, Hutch caught my arm. “Suse, wait. It doesn’t matter.”
“Of course it does! The police, FBI, have to see what’s—”
“I couldn’t contact them.”
“Couldn’t contact—? Why not?” My face contorted with anger and confusion.
“Suse, Suse—listen to me. Things have changed.”
“Jesus, I know!” I blinked raindrops away, eager to go back. “And I’ve got the proof if my phone’s not totally—”
“I mean things have changed . . . for me.”
He was so damnably calm I snapped at him, “What’re you talking about, for God’s sake?! What’s changed?!” I stared angrily into his eyes. “What’re you trying to—”
Suddenly I understood. Felt icicles in my blood. I could barely speak. “Oh, Hutch. No. My God. No!”
I tried to pull away, but he held me like a vise. “Wait! Wait, goddammit!” He glared with harsh dominance. Then caught himself. “Wait. Please.” He seemed to be forcing himself to release my arm. He held up both hands, palms facing me, to make the point: he was not threatening me. I could see he was struggling desperately against his new darker nature to make himself speak much more gently. “Listen to me: I feel so lucky that they caught me.”
My heart was pounding, my respiration shallow. But even in the rainy darkness, Hutch’s face seemed to be glowing like his warm Montana sun. “You can’t imagine how fantastic it is, Suse! The intricate correlations you suddenly become capable of. The inconceivable mental gymnastics your mind can instantly perform! Suddenly you’re lifted exponentially above the crowd, seeing clearer, further—”
I was unsteady, near tears. “No! I don’t want to be like them! I don’t want you to be like them! Oh, Hutch, my God, no, I—”
An amazed smile lit up his face. “I know, believe me, I know.” He was laughing with enthusiasm. Encouragement. “I didn’t think I did either. But you do! Oh, Suse, you do. We were wrong to be so frightened of it. It’s wonderful!”
“No! Mitchell and his people plan to—”
Hutch shook his head dismissively. “We can deal with them. It doesn’t have to be channeled in Mitchell’s direction. It can be used for only good, useful, unselfish purposes! You and I can solve biomedical problems we’ve been struggling with for years. Suddenly I can feel the answers close enough to touch. Cures for diseases. AIDS, cancer. Medications to prolong life!”
I was staring at him, trying to stay objective, but he could sense that I was at least listening, maybe even wavering, as he pressed on, “That’s right, Suse, just think of all the people—all the children—we can save. Isn’t that why you became a doctor? Isn’t it?”
“Of course it is, but—”
“Of course it is,” he encouraged me with incredibly comforting warmth. “They called it a gift, Suse. But it’s more, it’s so far beyond that, it’s . . .” He searched for an image brilliant enough to evoke the wonder he felt. “It’s like dawn on a Rocky Mountain peak, like a hundred Christmas mornings. All at once. It’s joy. Intelligence! Possibilities. Elation!” With a delighted little bubble of laughter, he added, “. . . And it’s so remarkably easy . . .”
He showed me a small vial of reddish liquid in his hand. He held it out to me. “It is a gift, Suse. The greatest gift you could ever be given. A gift that I’m honored to pass along to you, that’ll enable you to change the world in the most wonderful ways imaginable. To save millions of lives.”
I stared at the vial in his hand, then a beam of headlights swept across my face. I saw a police car rounding a distant corner, with its red-and-blue strobes flashing.
“Suse . . . don’t be afraid”—he touched my arm softly—“we can change the world. Come with me. Join us.”
I stared deeply into his eyes. He reached out his other hand, open to me. I was aching, torn. The police car was coming closer, its emergency lights flicking brighter across my face. I looked back at the vial in his hand. And I grasped it. Hutch smiled. Endearingly. Very happy.
Then I said, “I can’t, Hutch. I won’t.”
I broke away and ran hard. Clutching the vial tightly. I heard the police car pick up speed as I dashed around the corner into a dark alley.
Dr. R.W. Hutcherson. . .
I watched her go with the rain streaming down my face. I gazed off toward the darkness she’d disappeared into as the police car passed me in pursuit. I felt enormous affection and worry for her.
But I also knew my eyes were shining, reflecting the bright possibilities I felt through my whole being for the future. For the vistas that had opened up with this extraordinarily powerful new intelligence.
I remember whispering quietly toward the darkness, with loving confidence, “Yes, you can, Suse . . . And you will.”
17
CRISIS MANAGEMENT
Dr. Susan Perry. . .
I barely dodged the police car and was crouched down behind a hedge, panting hard. To go back to that church alley I knew would be dangerous—not to mention really stupid. Hutch might have alerted them. But I also knew I had to try. I worked my way back circuitously to see the alley from a distance. Cops and gray-suits were prowling. It was hopeless.
My phone and the truth it contained were lost to me.
I hurried to my car on a shadowy side street. Soaked from the rain, shaking from exertion and unadulterated fear, I dug out a backup cell I kept in the glove compartment for emergencies in the field. I called my nurse friend, Justinia, the dear heart who was tending Lilly at our condo. I told her to cram two suitcases with some of our clothes and take Lilly out of there fast. Justinia understood I was in danger and suggested where to meet her. After I clicked off, I stared at the cell in my trembling hand, knew it was traceable. I couldn’t use it for long. I was trying to analyze everything at once. Because of what I knew about the dangerous secret society of the Friends, and because Hutch knew I knew, and that I’d work against them and the enormous threat they posed, I was aware that—at least for now—my home, my career at the CDC, my relationship with Hutch, and my entire old life were lost to me.
I called Eric and discovered that Katie had escaped the CDC and connected with him. He was shocked when I gave him my headline: that just like Katie, I was on the run. I told him where they could meet me.
I partly covered my license plate with dirt, hoping it might prevent police from spotting me, then hit multiple ATMs, withdrawing as much cash as I dared.
Next I headed to northwest Atlanta and parked in a dark alley near Marietta Square to wait for the others. I arranged an online transfer of the bulk of my local money to be wired to a secure Swiss account I’d set up years ago while working overseas. At the time I’d been amused it’d be an anonymous, numbered account. Now I was grateful. I met Eric, Katie, Lilly, and Justinia at a small house on Lake Street in a working-class neighborhood. It was the home of Justinia’s jovial, round-faced cousin Fernando Marquez and his sprite of a wife, Maggie, who weighed about eighty-five pounds but impressed me as a force of nature. They’d had experience finding safe housing for good people needing to avoid authorities. I explained why Katie and I needed to go underground. I described the frightening situation with the virus, the gathering I’d witnessed in the church, how Hutch had been infected and drawn into their circle. Katie also told her story, which Eric corroborated. Justinia and her family were shocked and frightened by it all. But they would help us.
The Darwin Variant Page 24