Death and The Divide

by Lara Nance

  Like Minlo, she wanted to kill someone, too. But she had to make an effort for her nephew. “Yes, baby. We have to…forgive him.”

  Damn it, no! If the South was truly responsible, she hoped they all became infected with whatever was causing the mass deaths and killed each other.

  Chapter Five

  Annaria’s wrist-comm vibrated on the table beside her bed. It sounded like a drill. She opened her eyes against the pressure of swollen eyelids, her eyes dry and painful. When her memory of the previous night returned, she let out a soft cry but found she had no more tears in her body. A pounding headache, however, remained.

  She slipped her legs over the side of the bed and grabbed the offending device to silence it. Dr. Manson’s I.D. showed on the display. Shit. She didn’t feel like talking to him. In fact, she didn’t want to talk to anybody. Her day’s plan involved going to the religious cultural park, closing herself off in a Christianity pod, and bawling out her sadness to God. Later she would apply some alcoholic beverage to the gaping wound in her soul. But she answered anyway. Old habits were hard to kill.

  “Yes?”

  “Miss Moralez, you’re not at work.” He sounded less putout than she expected.

  “That’s right. My sister died in the attack yesterday, and I’m not coming in.” She rose and padded to the bathroom to find a cold cloth to put on her face. Damn, her eyes stung.

  “I heard about that on the news,” he said in a low voice. “I’m extremely sorry for your loss.”

  “Yeah, Louis. It completely sucks.” She’d never talked to him in this candid manner before, but she didn’t care. She couldn’t care about anything right now. And she wouldn’t call him Dr. Manson anymore, no matter what his stupid pride suffered. Screw that fake bullshit.

  He cleared his throat over the sound of people talking in the background. “I was able to talk to the Triumvirate yesterday.”

  She sniffed and slapped the cloth over her eyes. So what!

  “Annaria?”

  “I’m here.”

  “Look, I’m sorry about what happened, but I need you to pull yourself together and get over here.” Now he sounded more like his old self.

  A headache exploded behind her right eye, and she moaned. Fury spread through her like a raging fire. The anger flowing in her was about her sister, but she would take it out on dear old Louis because he was so damned convenient. “Are you kidding? Didn’t you hear me? My sister died. I have to go claim her body today, whatever’s left of it. And then I need to plan a funeral and take care of my nephew. I’m not coming in.”

  He coughed. “Annaria, listen to me with the part of your brain that isn’t turned to mush by this tragedy. The two governments had a vid-teleconference late into the night in an unprecedented collegial dialogue. Both sides are to form a research group and we’ll meet at The Divide in the morning to share information and come up with a plan. You are part of that team.”

  “Wha…?” She squeezed her eyelids shut and placed a hand on her forehead. What the hell was he talking about?

  “We have to go to The Divide, and we have to leave this afternoon. The closest gate fortress is southeast of Topeka. We’ll spend the night there and make it to the gate by eight o’clock.”

  Sorrow and despair fogged her brain. She sank to the edge of the mattress, still holding her head. Life felt sucked out of her. “Louis, please. I can’t do this. I can’t even think.”

  “Yes, you can. I know you’re destroyed by your sister’s death, but you have to help prevent more deaths…thousands, maybe millions of deaths. This threat makes what happened yesterday in the Plaza look like a flea beside an elephant.”

  “Louis, some people say it was a person from the South that did this. How do you think I can go there and face them? I want to kill them right now.”

  “If you don’t help, this could affect what’s left of your family along with everyone in the world. You’re rational enough to compartmentalize the actions of a madman from that of a whole country. Do this for what’s left of your family.”

  His words penetrated her sorrow, chipping away like a persistent ice pick. What he said was true. Reality fought a battle with emotion. “I don’t know why you need me if you’re there.”

  “I consider you the second best parasitologist in the world, even without your PhD. The South has nothing close in that department. I can’t do the analysis by myself. We have minutes to solve this problem, not days. I, uh, I need you.”

  She wadded the damp cloth and threw it into the bathroom. Letting her head fall back, she breathed deeply for a few seconds. He wouldn’t give up. She knew that.

  “All right. I understand the importance. I’ll be there in an hour.”

  “Very good. Pack for travel. I don’t know how long we’ll stay.”

  “Don’t they have repo-vends there?” She’d rather recycle clothes for a new set than pack.

  “I’m not sure what to expect, Ria.” His voice lowered, and she thought she detected a hint of fear. Crazy. The great Dr. Manson scared?

  “Fine. I’ll pack.” She ended the connection and pressed her palms to her eyelids. How was she ever going to get through this? Thank God her mother took Conner and his cat to her apartment last night. Well, if she had to pack, she’d take her personal clothes instead of recyclable work clothes. She was more comfortable in her leggings and loose silk tunics, anyway.

  After motioning the apartment settings to “Auto-care,” she headed to the university. Constantly battling the urge to cry, she couldn’t even look in the direction of the Plaza as they passed. At the lab, Dr. Manson and three others packed computers and called back and forth to each other about what to take.

  “Ah, Miss Moralez, you made it.” The big man lumbered to her and awkwardly patted her on the shoulder. She’d never seen him so uncomfortable. “Thank you for coming.”

  “I didn’t get the message that I had a choice,” she said. “And call me Ria, okay? Can we be done with that Hawkings business?”

  “Very well.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “Pack any equipment you need and let’s go. The transport is waiting outside.”

  She made a quick transfer of some files to her tech pad and loaded a sample bag with containment packs in case they received any tissue samples. A portable scanner fit in her backpack with her biohazard suit. She didn’t have much else to take.

  They had to drive to the border since a strict no-fly zone in that area prohibited a hover-copter. A T-10 would transport them. The luxury model. It pulled in front of the Science Hall, completely silent on its electric power. The perfection of its sleek silver sides and dark curved windows oozed power and money. Wow, seemed the government wanted to make a good impression. But on whom?

  A young woman left the passenger side of the car and approached them. She wore her pearly white hair in a short bob with bangs that obscured her eyebrows. Her gray suit seemed a tad too tight for comfort, but she did have a nice figure. Ria placed a hand on her less than flat stomach, but appeased herself by noting the woman could be no more than twenty-five. She probably had no problem remembering her mandatory fitness sessions, while Ria got reprimand notices three times a week.

  “Hello, I’m Madeline Jinee. I’ve been designated as your liaison with the government during this crisis.” She smiled and extended her hand. “Your work is top priority, and I’ve been instructed to make sure you have everything you need. Here, let me beam my data into your wrist-comm.”

  Ria held out her arm, and the woman held her data pen tip against the curved metal band on Ria’s wrist.

  “There, done. You can call me anytime.” Madeline smiled broadly.

  “Thank you,” Ria said, eyeing her uncertainly. “Did you pack any snacks for the trip? I haven’t had a chance to eat.”

  “As a matter of fact, yes. There’s an insulated tote in the back with beverages and energy bars.”

  “Great.” She hoped for something a little more delicious. “Thanks for the assistance.” />
  Inside, the large vehicle held the other members of the North’s team. Dr. Borman, of course, their leading expert on biology. Beside her in the back seat sat Dr. Patel.

  The other man she knew from his picture in science journals and the news. Dr. Jean Karakwannentha, a descendent of Mohawk Indians and the country’s leading epidemiologist. Everyone called him Dr. K, because no one could remember how to pronounce his name. He sat facing them on the opposite seat, his long black hair collected in a ponytail at his nape.

  She crawled in and sat beside Dr. Borman who gave her a shaky smile of greeting and murmured condolences about her sister. Dr. Patel merely nodded, his fingers fidgeting as they rested on his knees.

  “Hello, I’m Annaria Moralez.” She stretched a hand to Dr. K. “I know you from the World Summit report you gave last year. Brilliant.”

  His chiseled features made his face appear rigid, but his dark eyes sparkled with underlying good humor. He took her hand and gave it a firm shake. “And I have heard of you from my friend, Louis. You are well on your way to a successful career, young lady.”

  “Thank you.” Heat rose in her cheeks at this unexpected praise. She had no idea her mentor thought so highly of her. She should ask for a raise since he hadn’t given her one in two years.

  The interior space shrunk a bit when Louis entered and settled his large body beside Dr. K. An assistant outside lowered the door and they moved forward.

  Annaria had only ridden in a personal vehicle a few times, usually in relation to work or when in foreign countries as rented mobility. This was the nicest one she’d ever seen, and fast. Once they left the perimeter of the city, the driver settled on a navigation path and the car zoomed across the landscape. She leaned her head against the padded seat and closed her swollen eyelids. She remembered Madeline’s cooler, plucked out a cold water pack, and placed it on her forehead as she resumed her position. She pictured Lola as she’d last seen her, hopeful and headed for her interview. The vision brought fresh agony, so she turned to thoughts of the wall.

  The idea of going to The Divide between the countries filled her with both anxiety and curiosity. What kind of reception would the scientists from the South give them? Maybe this distraction was good if it diverted her from rumination about Lola’s death, and poor Conner who would grow up without a mother or a father. Her chest tightened, and she took a deep breath to dispel a nagging apprehension that went beyond her sorrow for her sister’s tragedy. She had none-to-friendly feelings about the South at the moment. She hoped she’d be objective and not let her anger over her sister’s death color her interactions with their group. She had to focus on the greater good.

  ***

  Linc donned a thin, clear containment suit and pulled the hood over his head. He entered the secure negative pressure room through an airlock that irradiated contaminants, and attached a portable breathing unit on his back. Inside, Dr. Carter, the medical examiner from Atlanta, performed an autopsy on one of the men from the shrimp boat. Several other scientists from different fields circled the stainless steel platform, peering at the body. Or what was left of it.

  He swallowed. The whales hadn’t been in this bad of shape, but then they had little other than the baleen plates in their mouths and their large jaws to cause damage. Humans were more inventive. This person had strips of flesh missing down to white bone in several places. Half of his face appeared ripped off, taking his left eyeball with it.

  The examiner continued his low monologue of findings as he probed and cut at tissue, placing samples in different containers his assistants labeled and scanned into the data system for later analysis. His gray hair thinned on the top, and small beads of perspiration formed on the bald spot despite the cool room. At one point, he paused. His hand holding the electro-scalpel trembled. After a moment, he handed the device to an assistant and shook his head.

  “Dr. Carter?” One of the other scientists broke the silence.

  “I wish I could say I’m not positive, but I am. The injuries on this body are consistent with those seen when a large animal attacks a man and begins to eat him.”

  Linc took a step closer. “Are you saying…”

  “These people were not only attacking each other, they were eating each other as well,” the older man said. “There’s masticated human flesh in this man’s stomach.”

  The people surrounding the table froze. The only sound came from a soft whoosh of air entering the room. Linc was glad the portable air system filtered out the worst of the smells inside his suit. That body looked putrid.

  “Then the cause of death was blood loss?” Linc asked. That’s what had killed his whales. But none of them had whale flesh in them. They couldn’t have chewed meat since they had no teeth.

  “That’s right,” Carter turned to him. “What about the animal massacres? What was found there?”

  He relayed the results of his whale studies. “The gulls did have gull meat in them, but as scavengers, that’s not remarkable. Now it takes on more significance.”

  One of the men on the opposite side of the table spoke. “So, something is causing groups of animals and men to turn into some sort of zombies?”

  “Not zombies. Cannibals. They are still very much alive but have deviated from normal human behavior. Something has cross-wired their brains.” Carter returned to the body and directed his assistant to empty the remains from the stomach and the intestines into a separate container. “I’ll look at what else had been eaten prior to the human portions. I’d suggest we look at the whales and seagulls for similar intake. If we find a common food source that’s contaminated, that could be the culprit.

  “You’ll forward your final report when it’s complete?” Linc asked. A sudden urge to run from the room almost overcame him. Yet, he knew he couldn’t escape this grim reality. Men eating each other while they were still alive.

  “Of course, and let me know what you find as well, Dr. Butler.”

  Linc nodded and left the room. He’d seen enough. Time to return to Birmingham and review the digestive track they’d taken from one of the whales. The idea of a common food seemed as good a place to start as any. The victims, both human and animal, had one thing in common. The sea.

  Chapter Six

  Annaria stared through the T-10’s tinted window as they approached The Divide. Although her heart still ached, the one in her head had finally faded. She’d followed the looming fence on the horizon for at least the last ten miles. Its tall electro-wire structure towered in the sky and traveled east and west in a line unbroken except by the massive tan gate fortress ahead. Two identical structures straddled the fence with a courtyard processing center between them.

  They’d left signs of civilization straggling behind with the last electro-station some fifteen minutes ago. Now they entered the scorched area where the worst of the civil war left a lingering reminder of terrible battles that had permanently destroyed hope of vegetation. Other than the wall, the stripped land on this side held only lines of tall windmill power generators, their enormous blades spinning in unison.

  Shipments of products passed back and forth through here, although interaction was limited to unloading and loading the supplies, mostly handled by mechanical means. Humans stayed separate until their products had been processed, then they returned to their respective countries. A person might apply for citizenship on the other side and was held here until approval of his or her application.

  The North had requested more agriculture products according to the news, citing their increasing population needs, but the South had not agreed. She grimaced. Her mother constantly harped to Ria to have a child before the North transitioned from limiting one child per individual or couple. The government moved toward a species propagation program limiting the number of children per year, which they slated for implementation in the next two years. As far as she knew, the South had no restrictions on number of children.

  “This is a little eerie,” Dr. Borman said, her eyes wide as she
stared into the distance. “I’ve never seen The Divide before.”

  “I saw the gate fortress in North Carolina once,” Dr. Patel said in a low voice. “It’s not as big as this one.”

  Louis twisted in his seat so he could look forward, his expression blank. After a moment, he said, “Strange, I hadn’t expected to feel this way seeing the wall.”

  “What do you mean?” Dr. K. also turned to view the road ahead and the huge fence.

  “Fascinating, I actually felt a surge of anger.” The big black man frowned. “Knowing they don’t approve of people of color in the South never seemed so close and personal.”

  “Hmm, I see what you mean,” Dr. K. said and pursed his lips. “I always thought, oh, white people live in the South, just like you think Italians live in Italy, or Mexicans live in Mexico. But seeing this structure…this Divide…makes me remember why it’s here and the horror of the past.”

  “Exactly,” Manson said.

  Annaria squeezed the strap of her backpack until her knuckles paled. Ire rose in her, too, but for an act more immediate. Authorities had offered no confirmation, yet, but she believed the South responsible for Lola’s death. The history of The Divide pressed on her as well. How had two peoples come to hate each other so much? They’d shared the same country for hundreds of years until the pull of conservatism and liberalism went extreme and tore asunder whatever ties remained.

  “I suggest we stay in the building on the North’s side of the gate,” Dr. Patel said, his face grim.

  “Wow, this is already tense and we haven’t even met them yet,” Annaria said. She moved her gaze to her companions. She never thought of them as anything other than people or colleagues. The South would also not welcome her quarter black and half Mexican heritage. She touched her unruly black curls, her ethnic-looking hair and her olive complexion would make her stand out as a persona non-grata to the Southerners.