The Government: Dark Days

by Joseph Storm

  “What’s more important...cancer or freedom?” Striker asked.

  “I’ll get it done.”

  “Good, I need something called salt peter.”

  “Salt peter?”

  “An accelerant...also used as a food preservative.”

  “I think the preservative excuse will be more doable. Is that it?”

  “Charcoal,”

  “Are we gonna bar-b-q the bastards to death?” Gunner asked.

  “Just trust me,” Joe said. “I’ll also need a good amount of hydrogen peroxide and citric acid.”

  “The citric acid should be in storage...the peroxide should be in medical,” Tommy said.

  “And just how will we get in there?” Gunner asked.

  “Get hurt,” Joe told him. “Hurt people can’t work. As long as I’m producing...they patch me up. Does it all seem possible?”

  “The supply trucks come once a week...I think it’s doable.” Tommy said. “Anything else?”

  “A spare nuke...while we’re in fantasy land,” Gunner quipped.

  “Barrels...and something to make a fuse out of.”

  “They keep the dry food in large barrels...the storage building. The fuse? You got me there,” Tommy said.

  “Nothing a roll of tape can’t solve. Where is the storage building?” Joe asked with extreme interest.

  “It’s overlooking the pit. You know, the building those asshole guards watch the fights from? Why?”

  “Let’s just say...a massive grouping of guards all in one spot...at one time.”

  Gunner’s eyes lit up with opportunity. “Blow ‘em straight to hell.”

  All of a sudden, the wailing alarm sounded into the air, indicating that their conversation was over.

  Everyone rushed to the doors, as a lifeless Jonah lay there pale and trancelike. “Get up, Reed!” Gunner yelled, trying to shake the desperate man from his slumber.

  “I got him,” Striker said, as he lifted Jonah over his shoulder, and carried him out the door.

  As each man lined up for inventory, Joe did his best to hold Jonah on his feet. However, the man’s dead weight was giving the weakened Striker a run for his money.

  Rock passed each man, looking over all of them. He studied their mental and physical states. The boy passed Striker and Jonah, appearing to give them the pass. Suddenly the strength seeped from Joe’s body. Jonah crashed to the floor.

  Rock rushed over, shocking the desperate man with a shock stick. “Get on your feet now!”

  “Julie...Julie...Julie,” he kept repeating.

  “Who is Julie?” Rock asked.

  “His wife,” Joe called out. “The woman you murdered in the pits last night,” he said with distain.

  “How long has he been like this?” Rock asked.

  “You almost sound like you give a shit,” Joe said defiantly.

  Rock grabbed Joe by the throat, tossing him to the ground. Striker was floored by the young man’s brute strength.

  “Show me respect!” Rock yelled. Joe immediately climbed back to his feet, staring his son defiantly down.

  Rock took another gaze at Jonah. “He’s just what they’ve been looking for. No use for me anymore,” he said, as two guards grabbed Jonah by the arms. They dragged his dead weight away from the group.

  “Where are you taking him?” Joe Striker called out.

  “I’m donating him to science,” Rock responded in equal defiance.

  Fear crawled across Striker’s skin. He turned and gave troubling looks to both Gunner and Tommy.

  “What the hell is he talking about?” Joe whispered to Tommy.

  “I have no idea.”

  ******

  “You asked for a throw-a-way...you got one,” Rock said, as the two guards dragged Jonah into the medical center.

  Dr. Mange’s eyes lit up with opportunity. “What is his status?”

  “He keeps calling for his wife...she was killed yesterday.”

  “Traumatic shock...mixed with manic depression. He’ll do,” Doctor Johann Mange said. “You are dismissed.”

  “Freak,” Rock said, exiting the building.

  “Bring him to the chamber,” the eager doctor ordered.

  Jonah was brought to an underground, airtight room. Mange was fitted with an airtight suit and clear mask, astronaut style.

  “Well...get him on the table already!” Dr. Mange called to Dr. Layman and Nurse White, who also donned the suits. Layman didn’t want to follow the instructions, though there was no choice. Jonah would be the first test subject for the second wave of Project Eradication. He would not be the last.

  There was a caged white rabbit placed near the subject. The animal was covered with attached wires and vital reading equipment. The furry creature came from a breeding farm of dogs, cats, rats, and other animals bred for experimentation. Clearly, animals were no longer used for pets, since nobody could afford to feed them.

  The horribly depressed Jonah stayed still and unresponsive. He was easily strapped to a hard medical table. His arms were fully exposed, causing the straps to put endless pressure upon bulging veins.

  “Syringe one,” Dr. Mange’s voice muffled through the suit.

  Nurse White picked up a syringe, handing it to Dr. Layman. The assisting doctor filled it with liquid, handing it to his boss.

  “Injecting bonding agent,” Dr. Mange announced coldly. He placed the spear of the needle against Jonah’s vein, slowly breaking the skin. Jonah stayed in his catatonic state, barely moving an inch.

  Dr. Mange’s thumb eagerly pressed down upon the syringe’s plunger. The barrel quickly emptied, and the liquid was sucked into Jonah’s thirsty veins.

  “Bonding agent accepted,” he said, after shining a light into Jonah’s eyes, checking his pupils for any dilation or strange coloring. “I am ready for X-1,” he said with anticipation.

  Nurse White’s hands shook, as she opened a nearby refrigerator. The woman removed a plastic bladder from the frosty innards. Thick, experimental brownish liquid sailed around inside, as Dr. Layman carefully took it from her hands. He hooked it to a metal IV stand.

  Dr. Mange screwed a tube onto one end of the bladder, then moved to the needled opposite end. The cap was removed, freeing the sharp instrument to go into Jonah’s arm. It was injected into his vein, as the nurse squeezed the bag. She released the thick substance through the tube. It crawled slowly into its new home like a salt covered slug.

  Jonah stayed still, repeating one last time, “Julie.” All of a sudden, he gasped, extending his lungs to the very max. The dull man went into violent convulsions, as the last of the brown liquid emptied from the bladder into his blood stream.

  Dr. Mange headed for an observation room. He yelled out one last order. “Release his restraints!”

  Dr. Layman’s surgeon-steady hands shook with imprecision. The binding straps were undone, releasing the flailing appendages of Jonah Reed.

  Jonah leapt from the table onto a frightened Dr. Layman, knocking him to the floor. Reed had the look of a crazed man. His eyes appeared to be bulging from the sockets. “Get him off before he rips my protective suit!”

  Nurse White pried the test subject off. The two of them made a break for the exit door. As they passed through, the exit was shut, sealed airtight again.

  They both shed their hazmat suits. They were short on breath, stepping into the decontamination shower that Dr. Mange had just passed through. The two joined the observation, watching Jonah collapse to the floor.

  “Fascinating...yet sadly disappointing,” Johann said, as it appeared their subject was dead. The group turned their backs on the observation window. Dr. Mange asked, “Survival time?”

  BAM! A crash rattled the unbreakable glass to its base, frightening the three doctors to a shout. Blood dripped from Jonah’s eyes, nose, and mouth. In fact, it dripped from every orifice.

  A hellish scream sounded from his lungs, as strings of blood dangled from his teeth. Dr. Mange approached the window, as Jonah’
s bloody palm rested against it. The act was his only way left to beg for mercy.

  “Now that is more like it,” Dr. Mange proclaimed. The man looked upon his test subject like a father upon his own offspring. He placed his palm up against the soiled man, a thick pane of glass between their touch. Jonah’s last bit of strength expired, as he collapsed to the ground. The desperate man finally got his wish. He would join his wife Julie in the afterlife.

  Nurse White trembled in fear. She tried to fight the tears from her eyes, fear from her body. Dr. Layman realized that he lost all ability to feel. He was beginning to see his greatest fear coming true. Hollowness was taking hold, as nothing shocked him anymore.

  “Survival time?” Dr. Mange asked again.

  Todd Layman looked at a digital clock on the computer. “Two minutes.”

  “The test animal’s vitals?’ Dr. Mange asked in anger.

  Dr. Layman turned, checking the flat-lined vital reader. “Expired,” he said, then looking to see that the animal was also a bloody mess.

  A further look of disgust crossed Dr. Mange’s face. “Failure on every front!”

  “It was just our first test,” Dr. Layman said.

  “And we will work through the nights...days to get it correct! That animal was not injected with the bonding agent...therefore...we failed on two fronts. The disease must be genetically modified to seek only the bond...the fools who were injected. We must also ensure that our subject survives long enough to spread it! If disease dies with him, how can it eradicate millions of enemies in 120 seconds?”

  Dr. Layman looked away, trying not to bare the brunt of Dr. Mange’s anger. Much was riding on the experiment. It was the beginning of a cost saving answer to Project Eradication. Dr. Mange had secretly researched his dream of creating a disease, however, the endless resources of Mika Sorka allowed him to do it on more than paper. It allowed him to bring it to life.

  It was the perfect weapon. He created a bonding agent, which would be used to “prime” the target, injecting certain molecules into their bloodstream. It, in turn, would seek out a modified airborne ebola-like disease when inhaled.

  The two would find each other, causing the destructive disease to activate itself only inside the individual. It would only infect those who received the bond. Everyone would catch the disease, however, only primed members would suffer its deadly effects. The plague would spread across political enemies everywhere they hide.

  Mika’s ultimate goal was to “weaponize” the disease, breaking it down into a powder form to be dropped on an entire group of targets. However, Dr. Mange’s twisted, complex mind aimed to save the government badly needed finances. The much cheaper produced primer could be weaponized instead. The disease itself would go airborne, only having to make a few doses of it. One infected person could go a long way, if they could survive long enough to spread it. That was his plan. At the moment, it was far from being perfected.

  “I hope you are prepared to dedicate your lives,” he said, terrifying his assistants. “Because I will not cease...until the dream becomes the reality!”

  ******

  Xavier Sin entered the camp, excited to set eyes upon his prize. He wanted to hand the microchip to Mika Sorka himself. It would repair the damage to his reputation that had been so badly tarnished over the years. However, first he had to get the microchip.

  Xavier entered his office met by Rock, who saluted him. “Commander, sir. It’s good to see you again.”

  “I should have been there to capture that scum myself!” Sin grumbled.

  “You were with us in spirit, sir.”

  A bitter look came across Xavier’s face. Rock’s rise in the ranks was the first challenge to authority, which the veteran would face in the government system.

  “Would you like to start the interrogations?” Rock asked.

  “I didn’t come for any other reason,” the impatient Xavier ordered.

  “Of course, sir. Should we start with their leader...I believe his name is Striker?”

  “No...bring me the mole. Bring me Jane Doe.”

  ******

  Lita called “Jane,” out of the work line. “Come with me,” she said. Becky and Stacey looked at each other in wonderment.

  Jane was brought into the large locker room, where the female prisoners were “welcomed” upon arrival. She sat in the hard chair. Xavier entered the room with Rock at his side. Commander Sin stopped in dead disbelief, as if he were looking upon a corpse. The eerie sight filtered through his one eye, spooking a man who did not get spooked often.

  “They really did it,” he said, running his calloused hands upon Jane’s face. “Every damned detail...like a ghost sitting in front of me...brought back to avenge my acts against her,” he said. Memories of a brutal past sailed through his head, one which Rock had no knowledge of.

  “You’ve seen this woman before?” Rock asked.

  Xavier laughed, realizing that the boy had no idea. He was looking at his own mother’s image.

  “Once...a long time ago,” he answered, brushing off any further detail.

  He continued to look upon Jane with amazement, impressed that the administrations’ plan had worked to precision. The John and Jane Doe project was set in motion long ago, as men and women with similar features of political enemies were set aside. First they were taught mannerisms, given voice match lessons, and drilled twelve hours a day on memories and character.

  After that was completed, they went under the knife. Every source of identification was unearthed, using the advances in plastic surgery to bring the “copy” to life. Xavier snapped a picture fresh from the still warm body of Jenny Striker, getting every detail and angle that she had.

  This particular model Jane Doe, who’s body was liposuctioned to the exact weight, was changed down to the last manufactured mole. They washed any bit of prior identity from her, making sure she would seduce her victim.

  Rewards of money, freedom, power, and security were promised to those willing to sacrifice everything. They would never be paid.

  “I did what your people told me to do,” Jane Doe said. “Held up my end of the deal.”

  “You came just in time...we were beginning to lose hope in you. We were ready to give your assignment to someone else.”

  “Infiltration takes years...so does getting inside a man’s heart. His head was much easier to invade. Anyway...I did what you asked...now give me my reward. Let me out of this horrible place!”

  “You forgot one...major thing,” Xavier said. “The damned microchip!”

  “I buried the transponder inside the cave, I already told him,” she pointed to Rock.

  “The caves were searched fully...there was no sign of any chip. Each prisoner was searched and x-rayed...still nothing, commander,” Rock interjected.

  “Joe wouldn’t tell me where it was,” Jane said apprehensively.

  “Your job was to gain his trust...get him to tell you everything! Especially that!”

  “It’s the girl! Becky Fox! She’s in the women’s camp with me. Joe said it was with someone he trusted...it has to be her! Even when he was with me...I could tell someone else was on his mind. She’s been suspicious of me since day one...constantly watching me.”

  “Then you still have work left to do!”

  “She’s a lost cause...she’ll never talk! Put her in the pit...against me! When she dies...he’ll finally be free to love me fully! He’ll tell me everything! His heart will no longer be torn.”

  “You should know better than that...foolish bitch! Falling in love with your target is the ultimate failure of a mole!”

  “I never said I loved him!” she said defensively.

  “Your face tells a different story. Stick around for a while...you’re still in need.”

  “Let me be the one to end her! Then...deliver my freedom and my money.”

  “You’ll get what’s coming to you...though first...I get the chip! As for Fox...I get the feeling she may still be of use to us.”r />
  “We can use her to get to him,” Rock said.

  “You’ve clearly learned from me, boy,” Commander Sin said, quieting Rock’s confidence a bit. “Take Ms. Doe here back to general pop,” he said, as Jane was guided away.

  Jane stopped before she exited. “We have a deal...me and Becky Fox in the pit! Then...Joe and I earn our freedom...together!”

  “Fine. Tell me...what do you care if he loves you?”

  “I just need it,” she told him, avoiding any deeper answers.

  “Well, you may get your chance sooner than you think,” he said, giving Rock one last order. “Bring me Striker. It’s time to make him a deal he can’t refuse.”

  Chapter Fifteen:

  The Reunion

  “Enjoy...or at least try not to throw up,” Father Tyme said, as he dished out a ladle of disgusting food. Joe Striker went to take it from him, discovering a tiny bible tucked underneath.

  “How did you get this?”

  “I’ve discovered that this food...if that’s what you call it...is useful after all.”

  “Bibles are nice...but do you have anything else for me?”

  Tyme looked around, seeing that the guards weren’t listening. “I located the empty barrels...right where you wanted them in storage. The citric acid is there also.”

  “Well, father...I think I see a second career as a smuggler,” Gunner chimed in.

  “Son, at my age...the only second career I wanted was retirement,” he answered.

  “Be careful distributing those books. They’re illegal...will end up in death,” Joe warned him.

  “If I have to die for any reason...I can think of none better.”

  “Hang in there father. We’re counting on you,” Joe said, as he took his food and moved on.

  Jerry Simmon’s walked up to get his food, being handed a bible as well. “Does it matter that I’m Jewish?” he asked.

  “Oh...well, just skip the second part,” Father Tyme answered.

  Jerry took his food, and exited the line. Robert Yale arrived for his food. He looked weak, pale and about to snap.

  “Are you, ok, my friend? You don’t look well.”

  “Food...quickly,” he demanded, grabbing his portion frantically. The good book dropped onto the ground.