by Alia Hess
“But I also know that you’ve been trying to be a better person. You apologize more; you’ve toned down your behavior and tried to be more polite. And I think that’s great. You still mess up, but you’re trying.”
Irina’s hand closed over his, and his heartbeat rocketed in his throat. Beautiful, ethereal Irina, with her creamy skin and constellations of freckles.
“I know there’s a sweet guy in there somewhere. And I asked you to drive me because it used to be just you and me in the beginning. We didn’t really socialize with the doctors and the handful of others didn’t seem to like us that much. And I know that if I ever needed anything at all, you’d be the first person to come to my aid—”
“Of course I would. Anytime.” He placed his hand on top of hers.
Irina smiled, then leaned in and kissed his mouth lightly. Sasha froze, but the world melted. The sweet softness of her lips was even better than it had been the first time, because this time it wasn’t done out of boredom and lack of choice.
He kept his eyes shut as she pulled away, his mouth parted slightly. Then there was a loud smack, and a terrific sting radiated through his cheek. He opened his eyes and put a hand to his face.
“Ow! You hit hard for a woman!” He sucked air through his teeth, leaning back in the seat.
“And that is for that video you recorded of us, you sicko! I’d ask you to erase it, but I know you won’t. You record everything. You probably recorded this entire car ride. And I bet anything you’re going to go back to your disgusting office, put the recording of that kiss and slap on a loop, and play it over and over while you touch yourself.”
Still holding his face, Sasha glanced at the three hundred sixty degree dashboard camera. “Uh, look, I just like to keep that on because we’re in the middle of the wasteland. You never know what it might catch. Not my fault you’re always kissing me when there are—”
“Goodbye, Sasha.” She reached for the door handle.
“I’m sorry. I was going to tell you about the video—”
“Yeah, right.”
“No, really. I wrote it on my list.” Sasha dug the paper out of his pocket and unfolded it. “See?”
Irina looked at the last line, then took the paper and studied it. “My name is on here a lot of times…”
Sasha slumped in the seat. “Yeah. But you don’t need to worry; I erased the video a long time ago. I didn’t even mean to record it in the first place.”
“Really? Why should I believe you?”
“I… don’t know. I guess you don’t really have a reason to. But it’s the truth.”
She drummed her hands on the seat and stared out the window. “Promise?”
“Yeah.”
“I’m not going to admit that a little part of me will miss you. And I want to wish you good luck with whatever you decide to do with your life. Maybe some day—not the near future, mind you—you could look me up if you’re in Burr.”
Irina handed back his apology list, then leaned in for a hug. Sasha’s breath quickened as he squeezed her tight and stroked her soft hair. She pulled away and opened the door, hopping out, then pulled her duffel bag from the back.
“You want me to walk you into town? Carry your bag?”
She smirked. “No. See ya.”
He rubbed his sore face and reversed the truck, flying back down the highway. Tears formed at the edges of his eyes and he wiped them angrily away.
Why couldn’t I have tried harder to be a better person right when I got here? If I hadn’t screwed things up back then, this could have gone much differently. Irina wouldn’t think I was rude and reckless and all those other things. And maybe I’d be going to Burr with her. We’d be together. But now I have no chance whatsoever. My only choices now are staying in Priyut, or leaving that dump with my new drone and making something better out of myself.
Standing for a prolonged time made him so dizzy. Getting from place to place was going to be difficult. Maybe he could steal Truck One. Traveling would be much easier, it would give him shelter, and he wouldn’t need to worry about his heart. But he couldn’t do that. He’d be letting Irina down again.
She was his motivation to be a better person. Not getting socked in the face by an angry Islander. Getting punched by Trav, and the subsequent scar his great pale fist left on Sasha’s brow, was a constant reminder to not be an asshole, and that he needed to apologize to people he offended. But Trav and Owl were living far away on Nis now. Aside from visiting them occasionally with a drone, there wasn’t much his actions would do to affect them, but Irina… All his thoughts touched—if only momentarily—on what she would think. Unfortunately, most of the time those thoughts came after he’d already done something dumb.
Sasha slammed on the brakes, squeezing the steering wheel. He turned back toward Burr, leaning on the horn and honking at people in the road. The truck swerved off the highway into the dirt, then bumped over a mound of earth. Sasha’s head hit the roof. He didn’t slow down.
When he reached the stand of trees, he parked and jumped out, running down the road toward town. Irina stood near a brick building, pawing through her duffel bag, her hair like a small fire in the sun.
Sheep occupied an adjacent pasture, laying in the shade cast from the building’s shadow. Small houses flanked the opposite side of the hard-packed dirt street, grasses and dandelions flourishing in the spaces between.
“Irina—”
Relief filled her face. “I was hoping you’d come back.”
“You—Really?” He panted, his hands on his thighs.
“I knew you’d be here when I needed it.” She smiled.
Sasha’s heart swelled. He sucked in a breath, feeling dizzy.
“So where are they?”
Darkness teemed at the edges of his vision. He tried blinking it away, putting a hand to the rough brick surface of the building. “What?”
“My headphones? That’s why you came back, right? I forgot them in the truck.”
“Oh, I gotta sit down or I’m going to pass out.” He sank to the dirt, clutching his narrow chest. “Your headphones?”
“Are you okay?” Irina sat next to him.
“I’m not supposed to run that hard. I’ll be okay in a moment.” He rested his head back against the wall.
“You need me to get you something?”
“No.” Sasha shut his eyes. “That’s why you wanted me to come back? You dropped your headphones?” The emotional assault on his heart was worse than his physical state. Once his pulse leveled out a little, he opened his eyes. Irina stared at him, genuine concern on her face.
“Are you sure you’ll be okay? I didn’t know your side effects were that bad. Then again, I’ve never seen you run before, either.”
“I’m okay. But I came back because I wanted to tell you something, and I probably won’t get another chance.”
Irina looked into the grass and frowned.
“First, I’m going to completely wipe that video from my drives so it can’t be recovered. And I’ll delete the recording of you kissing me in the truck—”
“You can keep that one if you want.”
He chuckled. “Okay. But I wanted to tell you that you make me want to do better. To be better. And…”
Irina’s green gaze held him. “Yeah?”
A hard lump formed in his throat. “And I’m in love with you.”
For a moment, she just sat there, staring. Then she bit her lip and looked away. “I know. I know. But I—”
“Don’t say anything. You don’t need to.” He pushed himself up, trying to keep his disappointment and self-loathing contained. “I’ll go get your headphones.”
Irina slung her duffel bag over her shoulder and followed him. They walked in silence back to the truck. Nothing else he could say or do would make a difference, but at least she knew.
The earbuds sat in a crevice of the floor mat on the passenger’s side. Sasha slid into the truck, picked them up and held them out the window.
>
Irina shifted her duffel bag and frowned. “I’m sorry, Sasha. Do good, okay?” She took the headphones, momentarily squeezing his hand, then trudged up the grass and back onto the road.
3 ~ North American Hemorrhagic Shock ~
Despite wanting nothing more than enough moonshine to knock himself out, Sasha drove straight back to Priyut, returned the truck keys, and flopped into his desk chair. Irina’d been just what he needed in the beginning: someone to talk to, someone who shared a distaste for the same aspects of Russian life as he did, and someone who found him attractive. He’d known he would screw things up—known it. That’s what always happened.
With a sigh, he wiped his and Irina’s sex tape from his drive. While footage from Truck One’s dash cam uploaded, he crossed Irina’s name off his apology list one last time—he hoped.
An email popped up on his tablet from Dr. Krupin.
He responded. Were they keeping a closer eye on his vehicle usage now?
Sasha leaned toward his monitor and clicked on the video of the truck footage. He fast-forwarded to their kiss, smirking. The camera had a perfect angle of Irina leaning in and pressing her lips against his. Then her hand became a blur as it connected with his cheek.
He rewound it. Kiss. Slap. Kiss. Slap.
“I could watch this all day.”
Shoes clanked on the metal stairs, and he turned off the video. Dr. Krupin, dressed in fine leather loafers and slacks, entered the room. He greeted Sasha with his typically stern expression, glancing around.
“Sasha, the long distance drone is currently on its way to Moskva. I need you to put the feed for A3 on the monitors. I’ll be back down in a few. Dropping the payload will require command controls that I can’t implement on my own computer.”
Sasha frowned. “To Moskva? But—”
“I know you know why. Do it.” Dr. Krupin turned and headed back up the stairs.
Sasha stared at the empty doorway, stunned.
Wait. What? He can’t be serious. I thought Dr. Orlov talked him out of it. And he hasn’t written anymore notes or emails about dropping the virus—none that I could find, anyway. There’s no way that’s what he meant. Maybe I misunderstood.
If Dr. Krupin dropped the American virus on the rest of the world, it would kill everyone but the one percent who were unknowingly resistant, just as it had done to the Americas one hundred and fifty-five years before. Eventually, the world would be just like America—abandoned and free. No government oppression, pollution, or hive-mindedness.
But ninety-nine percent of the world will die. Had I known he was still planning to do this…
He would have done what in response? What could he have done? What was he supposed to do now?
Sasha clutched his chest, light-headed, and patched in the feed, directing it to the entire monitor bank. The drone was currently zooming over pristine skyscrapers and occupied baseball parks. The preprogrammed flight path indicated there was only ten minutes until it arrived.
“Oh, holy shit. This can’t be happening.” Sasha rubbed his face and let out a breath.
Don’t let it happen. You’re not a murderer.
“But if I stop it, America will be done for. China or Russia would eventually manufacture a new vaccine and take over. Colonize. We would all end up working twelve hour shifts in factories, making smiley face keychains or some other worthless shit.”
You’d be killing billions of innocent people.
“The rest of the world sucks. They’re better off.” It was a lie, and he knew it. “And I’m not doing it. Dr. Krupin is.”
You’re his patsy. Don’t be a wuss. Do something.
He sat back in his chair and covered his face with his hands. Could he stop it somehow? Override the control and send it back? Plunge it into the ocean? Or maybe Russian defense would shoot it down.
They won’t. It’s a government-issued Russian drone, and the doctors have sent it back before with decontaminated samples of things.
Sasha stood up, tugging at his head of messy curls. He paced the room, then dropped back in his chair and picked up his tablet; he turned on a browser and clicked a link for world news. His finger swiped through the headlines: Carrie McArthur embroiled in controversy after new-age health products kill hundreds; Explosion in Giza—destroying Sphinx—said to be only the start as country deepens into civil war; President Zhao refusing medical aid to poorest sectors of China; North Korea threatening South with nuclear attack.
The tablet hit the desk with a clatter and Sasha groaned. “The rest of the world is awful, but Grandma would be so disappointed if I didn’t try to stop this. And what the hell is Dr. Orlov doing about this mess?”
He sent the doctor a message.
After a beat, there was a reply.
“The hell I can’t.”
He punched in a command to stop the drone’s flight, but his hands shook so hard he messed it up several times. When he did get it right, a red error message flashed.
“Unauthorized?” Sasha tried again, but the drone continued. It would take much too long to try hacking around it.
If I can’t stop the drone, maybe I can stop Dr. Krupin? But how?
“Maybe I should just get out of here.”
He sent Dr. Orlov another message.
Sasha leaned back and stared at the ceiling, tears needling his eyes. There was a backpack around somewhere. He dug through a pile of wrinkled clothing in a corner and pulled it out, then stuffed it with clothes from the dresser, a pocket knife, binoculars, his tablet, and a few other items from the desk. After shouldering the pack, he looked at the monitor bank, a sour sickness deep in his gut.
The drone was stopped over Red Square, hovering in place. Hundreds of people milled about the plaza. What would the colorful exterior of Saint Basil’s Cathedral look like in a hundred years?
He carried the backpack to the stairs, then dropped it and turned around. I can’t just run away, even with Orlov’s blessing… I’ll lock the bunker door.
A set of footsteps rang on the stairs and Dr. Krupin entered, narrowing his gaze.
“Leaving, are you?”
“I—I can’t believe you want to do this.”
Krupin glared. “You think you’re so cute for hacking my notes? Well this is where it’s gotten you. You knew this was going to happen, but you never did anything about it, so I assumed you were on the same page as me. Just go.”
“But you and Dr. Olov were arguing about it. He didn’t want you to do it. I never thought you were actually—”
Krupin pulled a small key from his pocket and inserted it into a slot in the desk, then punched a command into the computer. He grabbed a joystick and tilted it forward. The drone nosed toward the square, hovered twenty feet above the pavement. Sasha’s heart jackhammered and his head filled with cotton. People milled about in the plaza, smiling, kissing, and taking pictures. A little kid chased a flock of pigeons.
My old neighbor, Ivan, still lives there. He promised to take care of my cat after I moved. All those people are going about their lives. They don’t deserve this.
“
What happens if the virus doesn’t spread like anticipated? What if it only kills people in Russia and other countries stay uninfected?” Sasha asked.
“That won’t happen. I engineered this strain to be more contagious.”
“Oh my god. Dr. Krupin, you can’t do this. All those people…”
Stop him!
Sasha grabbed his superhero statue off a bookshelf, squeezing it tightly.
Hit him! Knock him out! Don’t let him do this!
His arm trembled, adrenaline fizzing through his heart, but he swung the statue high, ready to bash Krupin in the head with it.
Krupin pulled the trigger. Sasha’s mouth parted, his arm going slack. The drone whirred and a large glass vial fell, smashing on the ground. Blue liquid colored the pavement, some of it splattering people standing nearby. They turned, looking at the ground in confusion.
Krupin gave Sasha a dismissive glance and left the room, slamming the bunker door behind him.
Sasha dropped the statue, staring at the monitor bank through tear-filled eyes.
I just killed everyone. I’m a mass murderer.
Some people stood near the broken vial curiously, but most had shrugged it off, crunching over the glass and liquid.
I’m not going to stick around to see these people turn inside-out. An image cut through his mind of Dr. Kuznetsov’s terrified face, sticky with smeared blood.
He pulled on his backpack. Drone C6 sat deactivated in a corner of the room. Sasha hefted it and ascended the stairs. People went about their daily tasks in the surveillance office.
Anna looked up. “Hey, Sasha, what did Dr. Krupin want? We hardly ever see him—”
He kicked open the door and jumped down into the grass, marching to Dr. Orlov’s trailer. Orlov wasn’t in his usual spot. It was just as well. Sasha was out of lies and excuses. He snatched the keys for Truck One.
After depositing the drone and his backpack into the passenger’s seat of the vehicle, he backed the truck up and sped up the dirt path, skirting the facility fence, until arriving at the mess hall. The pantries in the building contained a variety of vegetables, canned goods from Russia, bread, and water. Sasha hauled four jugs of water out the back door to the idling truck, sliding them on the floorboard in the back. Going into the pantry again and using his shirt as a pouch, he filled it as full as possible with produce and tin cans.