Illegal King

by Mason Dakota

  “It’s just too hard to fight. It’s like trying to make it rain by rubbing two stones together. Impossible. But we know enough to be afraid. It’s a virus…that’s unaffected by everything we throw at it and believe me, we’ve tried just about everything we can think of. All we managed to accomplish was getting the first victim killed sooner. It’s a plague and if this gets out it we will have a pandemic on our hands.”

  He swallowed like he was trying to force a lump down his throat. We understood. Without a proper antidote or cure, the virus would kill faster when the wrong medicine is thrown at it.

  He continued speaking, his voice raspy and dry. “It’s highly contagious and so far we assume it’s contagious only to Nobles. Maybe it has something to do with our genetic coding, but whatever it is the virus seems to have no effect on Outcasts, just Nobles. The virus works at different speeds for reasons we can’t understand. You see only the physical symptoms of dying bodies, but the virus also kills the mind. Actually, it begins with painful migraines and before the victims know it, they are experiencing hallucinations and mental decay.”

  Gulp.

  “What can you tell us about Patient Zero?” asked Alison

  The doctor took a deep breath and exhaled. “Patient Zero was a Noble. He was apparently homeless, like many after the blast. I think he was once a computer technician or something like that. He was found under a bridge by deputies. They brought him here. Reports suggest some means of foul play are involved with the illness, which is actually why he was brought here in the first place. He had a number of surprising physical injuries. And he was already showing the first visible signs of the disease, a slight miss-coloring of his complexion, excessive sweating and fever.”

  “What do you mean by injuries?” I asked.

  “He looked as though he’d been in some sort of altercation. He had rope burns on his wrists and bruising across his body. He also had a fractured wrist—a common injury I’ve seen many times among inexperienced fighters,” said the doctor.

  “So what you’re saying is that he was in some sort of fight? Did someone do this to him?” Alison asked.

  The doctor nodded and said, “I had my suspicions at first, long before we fully identified his condition. My initial analysis was that he got into some sort of altercation. Then I found the puncture mark on his neck. His condition worsened. We initially suspected poison and treated it as such.”

  “That’s when you lost him.” Thomas said. The doctor’s face looked grim.

  “What did the NPFC turn up when they investigated? Did the patient tell you anything?” I asked.

  This time the doctor shook his head and said, “The NPFC find people like this all the time. There’s little to no investigation anymore as to who is fighting whom when the whole city is raging. All they said was that it seems the fight happened somewhere else and then he was dumped under the bridge. A large population of homeless Nobles live under the bridges. The patient himself was unresponsive and the things he did say didn’t make sense. He mostly spoke of devils and monsters. We figured either the fight or the poison had him delirious.”

  “So you mean to say someone infected him and then dumped him off with other homeless Nobles?” I asked.

  “Sounds like someone was trying to get others infected,” said Alison.

  The doctor said, “We thought that too later after the next two patients arrived.”

  “What’s their story?” Thomas asked. He had a strange look in his eye, different from everyone else. Alison showed compassion, but Thomas showed the determination of a detective, taking careful notes and clarifying every word and every image he saw. I knew he wanted justice.

  “The male was a bank teller. That’s his wife next to him. He apparently works at one of the city’s Noble banks, a very busy one at that.”

  “The failures of electronic banking naturally caused a rise in face-to-face banking. This man likely saw countless clients every day, all of them Noble!” said Alison.

  “If you want to spread a Noble-killing virus in Chicago, you target a person who works with the public,” said Thomas.

  “That’s what I fear,” said the doctor. “The man walked in with his wife. Both were fully cognitive. We worried when he showed the same internal symptoms as Patient Zero. The man said he got mugged one day on his way to work. He fought back and in the process was punctured by a syringe. He was smart. Instead of going into work, he went back home.

  “Evidence shows that this virus was injected into him by his attacker, but his wife has no puncture marks. When she got sick we learned the virus is contagious. We realized we had a serious situation, so we quarantined this floor and sent word to the Empire’s disease specialists. I tell you, someone did this on purpose to these three specific people. I fear this is only the beginning of some sort of pandemic. I hope we find a cure before it’s too late.”

  “Did the accountant give a description of who did this to him?”

  The doctor nodded and said, “He claims his attacker kept a hood over his face, but had dark skin covered in tribal tattoos. He says he never saw the guy before. The man attacked him without warning, hitting him in the gut and taking his wallet before he even knew what was happening. He said he didn’t notice the puncture mark until later. But he did say that when he tried to fight back, he pulled back the man’s coat sleeve enough to see that the man is an Outcast.”

  An Outcast is doing this?!

  “Why would someone trying to cause a pandemic rob someone in the process?” asked Alison.

  “To hide the real purpose of the mugging, which is to inject the virus. This Outcast wants to spread the disease. It’s why he’s dumping infected bodies in places like homeless communities that live very close together and targeting those who interact with many different individuals on a daily basis. He’s trying to maximize the impact,” Thomas said.

  “Why hasn’t this been made known to the public? Why is this secret?” I asked. The doctor looked honestly annoyed with me.

  “Do you not remember six months ago when countless people were slaughtered in the streets because their lives were threatened? The Empire doesn’t want that happening again. That’s why we are trying to contain the situation until help arrives with the proper tools and equipment. Releasing information now may cause more harm than good.”

  I couldn’t say anything more to that. He was right. If Nobles thought they could so easily become ill and die, then it would only hasten the final extinction of Chicago’s residents. In order to keep the people safe (from one another) they could not learn of the lurking danger.

  The doctor suddenly coughed into his hand. Flakes of red droplets covered his yellow gloves.

  He was sick!

  Treating the Nobles had earned him a death sentence. Thomas stepped away from the doctor. His face twisted into pure horror and he kept glancing toward the door the doctor blocked. I didn’t blame him. If I were a Noble, I would have responded in the same way.

  Thank God I’m an Outcast and not a Noble.

  I never imagined I’d have that thought.

  “Except all of you won’t be around to see it beaten,” I whispered.

  It may have been a bit cold response but it was the truth. The doctor knew it. There was no point in trying to deny it. He stared into his hand and then looked at me. His eyes were tired. He knew his fate better than anyone. Maybe the other medical professionals shared his demise. I couldn’t imagine the pain they felt to see these patients go through hell and know that they were next to go through it.

  He straightened up and looked down his chin at me. “Better me than someone else. I might not be able to do much, but I can make it easier for the next guy…maybe give him a fighting chance,” he said. I admired his bravery. He knew he would die, but he chose to focus solely on his efforts to save others.

  Would I be the same if I were in his shoes?

  I didn’t say anything. I didn’t know what to say to a dying man. I just hoped my body language and e
xpressions conveyed what I felt. The doctor seemed to have recognized the message and he smiled back at me. He lifted on his headgear and secured it. Then he left us. None of us could stand being in that place any longer. We waited for no nurse and left.

  “We’re going to find out who is responsible for this, Thomas, and stop them. I promise,” I whispered. He never responded. His face was ashen.

  Fifteen

  I felt only one emotion at that point in time. Terror. An explainable emotion when thinking of Thomas and countless others potentially dying from such a horrific virus, despite their being Nobles. Why Outcasts were immune and Nobles weren’t made absolutely no sense to me. Then again I didn’t know the first thing about modern medicine or the genetic make-up or differences between Outcasts and Nobles.

  What I did know was that it wasn’t natural. Someone was deliberately attacking the health and well-being of every Noble. That was something I could wrap my mind around and deal with. It made this more than murder. It made it something far worse.

  This was genocide.

  Thousands—millions—of Nobles could be killed if this virus broke out across the globe. The world would crumble. Sure, Outcasts would survive, but at what cost? What were Outcasts without Nobles? Six months ago I might have supported this, might have loved the thought of seeing every Noble that had ever wronged me die like a lab rat.

  I’m not that person anymore.

  I had to stop the virus and it’s creators soon before it was too late. Someone was still testing this virus. Maybe that meant there was still time to stop it. Maybe the killer was warming up his appetite. If his goal was widespread infection, then infecting the homeless and accountants wouldn’t make it happen quickly enough. Sure he—or she—could infect the whole city that way, but at that rate the city would be quarantined and the infection controlled.

  Any person who takes the effort to create a deadly, genocidal virus had to have a much bigger target in mind, some way of rapidly injecting and spreading the virus. The real exposure would need a bigger crowd of traveling hosts. A bigger target area would be able to carry the virus farther, maybe globally, to countless individuals.

  My first thought was an airport or some kind of public transportation, but none of that existed in Chicago anymore. The killer would need a crowd big enough and from enough corners of the world to spread this virus far and wide at a rapid rate. He would need representatives from several different places centralized in one area for a time who would go back to their homes and infect more people.

  The United Noble Convention!

  The Emperor was on his way to Chicago. He was bringing together the world’s most powerful Nobles to discuss international politics and issues. Already around me on the streets people were hanging banners celebrating that, despite Chicago’s earlier crisis, the Empire hadn’t forgotten about us. Shops were being set up along street corners. The Lady was working overtime to prepare and primp the city for the arrival of the Empire’s ruler and its allies.

  The thought tore through my gut as I realized the impending horror. Someone planned to release a deadly virus at the Convention. That had to be it. There was no other target large enough and that capable of initiating mass genocide. Someone hated Nobles enough to cause genocide and he or she had found a perfect target—the world’s most powerful Noble leaders. They would certainly be my target. The death toll would be unbearable. Governments across the globe would completely collapse. Anarchy would erupt and spread like a wildfire. Chaos would consume the planet.

  I nearly collapsed in the middle of the street with anxiety and dread.

  Watching the preparation going on around us, the thought clicked with Alison, too. She gasped, “They’re going to attack the Convention!”

  Thomas looked around, putting the pieces together in his mind, and trembled from head to toe. “We have to stop this!”

  I said, “We have to save your people.”

  Irony? Yes. My responsibility? Debatable.

  “But where do we start? Every Outcast in Chicago is a suspect,” said Alison.

  “There’s certainly no love lost among Outcasts when a Noble dies. There are likely dozens if not hundreds of Outcasts in Chicago that would support this genocide, if not flat out assist in it, if they were made aware. Hell, I would have a year ago!”

  “You’re saying that if this gets out it could spark more fighting amongst the two?” suggested Alison.

  “Makes sense. Nobles outnumber Outcasts two to one in Chicago. Your position in politics and the blast are shifting economic and social barriers. Things are changing rapidly every day. Not everyone is a fan of the changes,” said Thomas.

  “You’re right. If this gets out—if the population finds out this exists…”

  “We won’t let that happen. We’re going to stop the virus. Whoever concocted the scheme is only testing his product at the moment, but he’s revealed his hand too soon. That means things will be ten times harder for him,” I said.

  “Why is that?” asked Thomas.

  I looked him square in the eye and said, “Because now he’s got my attention.”

  Sixteen

  I dropped off both Thomas and Alison before heading back to the office. Thomas had to go back to work and Alison claimed to need to return to Chamberlain to check on the wedding preparation, though we both knew she wanted to be held in his arms after seeing death on cruel display.

  I didn’t blame her, and frankly I needed to be alone on my walk back to the Mayor’s office. I grew angrier as I drew closer and closer to that building. Alexandra had known about this disaster and was keeping it a secret. That infuriated me! I stormed my way up to the Lady’s office and barged in. I slammed the door forcibly behind me as I entered.

  The office had been a bustling of conversations, rustling papers, interns fetching coffee and buzzing electricity from a new power system. But the minute I slammed that door everything went silent. I had everyone’s attention on both sides of her office door.

  I was furious. She had to have known of the virus and hadn’t told, hadn’t warned, a soul. Nothing happens in Chicago without Alexandra knowing. Few of Chicago’s secrets were beyond her grasp. She had her fingers in everyone’s pocket, so for her to keep such a secret was an act of treason in my book.

  Does the Emperor even know what he is going to be walking in to when he gets here?

  Alexandra nearly jumped from her chair when I slammed the door. If she’d had a gun I’m sure she would have fired. I was amused that I’d startled the leader of organized crime in Chicago. To be a woman leading a mob meant that she had to be absolutely ruthless, enough to commit torture and public killings to gain fear and respect, and here that same cold-hearted woman had just been frightened by me.

  It felt good.

  It’s the little victories that get me through the day.

  “What the…” she said.

  I reached her desk in two long strides, thrust my finger in her face and shouted, “Shut it Alex!” In the eyes of the law, those words were enough to get me hanged and I said them to THE law in town, but I didn’t care. I feared her no longer.

  The only man I feared slipped from my grasp six months ago.

  “How dare you...?” she tried to say again.

  “I said shut it!”

  Tempting execution a second time now.

  She froze. Nobody had ever spoken to her in such a way before. Maybe it was why she didn’t order my execution on the spot, because I had more bravery than any other man when it came to her. She slowly closed her mouth and waited to see where this would lead. Her hands disappeared beneath her desk to where I figured she had a gun strapped and loaded.

  She could shoot me now and everyone outside would continue working like nothing had happened. It was so silent outside the room I wondered how many had their ears pressed to the door.

  “Nobles are getting sick and you knew about it. You knew about it, and you kept it hidden from me and from the rest of Chicago. Does the Empero
r even know about this? From what I can tell you have done nothing to stop the virus or to prevent him from coming here and risking the stability of this government.”

  I spoke in a whisper in case anyone outside the room listened. The lack of gasps heard confirmed nobody heard me, and a spark in Alexandra’s eye convinced me she was glad I had that much self-awareness. But she was not happy with the look she gave me.

  “Nothing?” she snapped as she leapt to her feet. Her eyes were cold and I sensed her desire to rip my heart out with her professionally manicured nails. At that moment the lights flickered and we were briefly engulfed in darkness. This happened frequently every day for a few seconds as power was still returning to the building.

  Thankfully she didn’t take that moment to kill me in the dark.

  She continued when the lights flickered back on. “I am doing everything I can do at the moment with what limited resources I have! I’ve supplied the doctors with what they need while we wait on the Empire’s disease prevention crew to arrive. I have been buying silence from everyone who knows in order to prevent mass chaos. I have spent a fortune in preparing, in secret, shelters and areas for quarantine and treatment in case this virus spreads outside the hospital and we need places to separate the sick from the healthy. And I have the entire NPFC turning Chicago upside down looking for those responsible or suspected of it, like Shaman!”

  “Oh don’t give me that crap,” I groaned, “You may have gotten the rest of Chicago to believe that Shaman is out there hunting down Noble children who disobey their parents, but we both know he isn’t behind this. You’ve made him the monster so you can be the hero. Don’t try to hang this around his neck while the real criminal gets away with this!”