Death and The Divide

by Lara Nance

  A ball of dread formed in his stomach at mention of the secretive agency. “What does the Department of Intelligence have to do with this situation?”

  “They want us to look for a person who could become a sympathetic contact, someone from whom we might get inside information about the North.”

  “You can’t be serious,” Linc said, anger rising. “This is a crisis. We don’t have time to play spying games.”

  Tom raised a hand. “I know, I know. But this is a golden chance. Interaction between the two countries is rare. Fisk wants one of us to seek a more personal relationship with one of the Northerners. A connection that can continue after this problem is over.”

  “This is ridiculous,” Linc exclaimed. “I can’t believe we’re thinking about espionage when humanity is under attack. What do you think is going to happen? We’re here to work, not fraternize.”

  “Calm down.” Tom made a patting motion with his hands and lowered his voice. He hesitated, then his expression hardened. “You need to get on board with this, Linc. The government is putting a lot of emphasis on allowing this interaction, and they want something out of it in return.”

  “Like survival of the human species isn’t sufficient?”

  “That’s enough.” Tom pointed a finger at him, anger flushing his round cheeks. “I think you and that assistant to Dr. Manson have a possibility of interpersonal chemistry. I suggest you work on developing that relationship if you want to stay on the good side of the DOI.”

  Linc knew a threat when he heard one. The DOI had the ability to turn his life into a nightmare. Surveillance. Harassment of friends and colleagues. Intervention in his career opportunities. The list was endless. “Why me?”

  Tom blinked, the redness of ire fading from his cheeks. “You’re about the same age, single, you have similar scientific interests. Not to mention, she’s likely lonely and in need of support following the death of her sister. You’d be a great shoulder to cry on.”

  The ball in his stomach turned to ice. “What do you know about her sister?”

  Tom’s gaze shifted away. “It was in the news. It’s no secret.”

  “I see.”

  “Look, just make a friend of her. That’s all they’re asking. Your cooperation would be greatly appreciated down the road.”

  He chewed the inside of his cheek to maintain his composure. Offers of this sort from the DOI did not allow a choice. He had to at least appear to attempt compliance. If Miss Moralez didn’t respond, he could do nothing about that, and they couldn’t blame him. Given their interaction so far, he didn’t think she’d have interest beyond professional interaction with a person from the South. The barely concealed haunted look in her eyes indicated she was still emotionally raw from her sister’s death. He didn’t blame her.

  A sinking coldness invaded him as his gaze settled on a small silver disc, no bigger than the end of his thumb, cleverly embedded in the frame of a picture hung over the bed. He averted his eyes. Had he put himself in danger just now? He had more than himself to worry about. He had to protect the IPP.

  “All right, I’ll try,” he said after a few moments. “But she didn’t strike me as seeking friendship from the South after what happened to her sister.”

  Tom patted him on the shoulder, the lines of worry in his face easing. “That’s the spirit. Give it a try. That’s all you need to do. There’s no evidence a Southern person bombed her city. Offer her some comfort, ask about her interests, that sort of thing.”

  Linc left and headed for his room, rubbing his face and replaying their conversation over and over. What damning things had he said, exactly? Why hadn’t he considered they would bug these rooms? He’d become isolated in a secure cocoon of academic freedom, where surveillance was rare. But now he’d entered the political arena in a big way.

  He pushed open his door a little too hard, and it banged against the wall. Day one of this ordeal and he already tired of guarding his expression and words. Did no one recognize the seriousness of this situation? If cannibalism spread in a virus-like pattern, spying would be the last thing on anyone’s mind. They’d be fighting to stay alive. Still, he now had to make an appearance of enticing Miss Moralez into a more intimate relationship than mere colleague. He didn’t need the government keeping tabs on his movements.

  His pad beeped, and he retrieved it from his backpack. An alert notified him that an encrypted SatNet group now existed for the attendees of this summit to communicate directly and keep everyone on the committee informed of developments. Both sides had sanctioned the private group to allow unhindered communication until this crisis passed. He pressed the “Accept” button and entered the password provided. He suspected someone from the North group had thought up this strategy.

  He could use this to attempt direct contact with Dr. Manson’s assistant and convince the DOI he did his best to comply with their wishes. After a few seconds of pondering what to do, he entered a message to Annaria: “Any discoveries yet?”

  He chewed his bottom lip, waiting. Maybe she wouldn’t reply. He rolled his shoulders and rubbed his neck while eyeing the screen. Already strung tight from the cannibalism problem, he now had to worry the DOI looked over his shoulder.

  Ding. A message popped up. He clicked on the link and let out a short breath. It was from her. “Nothing yet, but only up to slide five so far.”

  It was a start.

  ***

  Annaria removed the third slide and inserted the next one. Voices from the hall indicated the meeting had ended.

  Before long, Louis entered her room. “How’s it going?”

  “Routine. The slides are well prepared; I’ll say that much for them. There are no organisms out of place at this point.” She remained perched on her bed, the most comfortable place she’d found in this sparse room.

  “We’ve set up a private SatNet group for the people on this committee to use for communication. It’s vital to keep everyone informed.”

  “That’s a good idea.”

  “What did you think of Dr. Butler?”

  She narrowed her eyes. “He seems competent. Why are you asking?”

  Louis paced to the small window of her room. “I’ve heard good things about him. I specifically requested him for the committee. I think he’ll be a reliable source of information.”

  “What does that mean?”

  “It means my sources think he’s not a hardline conservative. Probably because his twin brother was deported to the North as a teenager when his, um, sexual preferences became apparent. I’d bet Butler would be open to reason if this situation needs a level-headed thinker.”

  “His brother is gay? How do you know that?”

  “No big deal. The government provided me with background information on the South’s members. Unfortunately, his brother died last year.” He shifted on his feet and averted his gaze.

  She crossed one leg over the other. “Is there something else you’re not telling me?”

  “Only my own thoughts. I have a deep sense of dread that if politics comes into play on either side of The Divide, this could turn into a disaster. Knowing who we can trust to understand the significance of this problem will be important.”

  The scanner beeped, and she rose to insert another slide. “This will be interesting. It’s tissue from the whale’s brain.”

  “Good. Let me know at once if you find anything.” He hesitated then gave her one of his awkward pats on the shoulder. “Are you holding up okay?”

  She ran her fingers through her tangled hair and returned to the bed. “I’m trying not to think about it.”

  He started to say something then just nodded and left.

  Her comm vibrated, and she took a deep breath. Her mother.

  “Hello?”

  “Ria? It’s Mom. I wanted to see if you were okay.”

  “So far. We met with the Southern group this morning and now I’m analyzing some samples they gave us. How are you guys?”

  “Your father hand
led the funeral arrangements this morning. I just couldn’t bear to talk about putting Lola’s genetic material in a vault.” A few sniffs interrupted. “It seems silly to be picking out the appropriate decorative container when I feel like my heart is going to explode.”

  Annaria twirled one of her dark curls around a finger, a gesture from childhood that betrayed her anxiety. She could only imagine. Nothing at the cemetery supply would be right for Lola, anyway. She should have an original artistic piece to house her final remains. Something as unique as her.

  “Mom, why don’t you look for something by a local artist? Lola would rather have that than some meaningless mass-produced receptacle.”

  “I agree, but your father said because she had worked so few years, her memorial stipend would only cover the most basic costs.” Her mother’s voice broke on the last few words.

  Annaria rested her head in one hand. That was her father, ever practical and by the rules. “Mom, pick out something Lola would have liked and I’ll pay for it. We have to think about the impact on Conner, too. Let him help you choose one. How’s he doing?”

  Another couple sniffs. “He stayed home from school, of course. Mostly he’s been in the spare bedroom with the door closed. He keeps asking when you’re coming back.”

  That cut into her heart like a jagged knife. “Can you call him to the comm so I can talk to him?”

  “All right. Hold on.”

  Silence stretched for long seconds. She accepted the invitation to the secure group that appeared on her tech-pad screen and entered the password. Then a message from Dr. Butler came through. That surprised her. She had the impression she had offended him when she hadn’t immediately accepted his samples. She would have reacted with the same hesitance if anyone she didn’t know offered her potentially toxic material. His inquiry seemed normal, though, she supposed.

  “Aunt Ria?” Conner’s thin high voice came over the phone.

  “Hey, buddy. I’ve been thinking about you all day. I’m so sorry I can’t be there right now. Did Gramma tell you what happened?”

  “Yeah,” he said. “But I wish you were here. When are you coming back?”

  “I’m not sure. We’re trying to figure out what happened to make some animals and men turn violent. It’s very serious. You understand that, don’t you? I wouldn’t have left if we didn’t face an absolute emergency.”

  “I guess. I just miss being at your apartment with you and Mom. It was the best home I ever had.”

  A lump rose in her throat, and tears welled in her eyes. “I loved being there with you, too. When I come back, you can stay with me as much as you want.”

  He sniffed, gave a low cry, and he said in a soft voice, “I wish you would be my mom now, Aunt Ria.”

  The desperate pain of that statement had her doubled over, fighting to keep from giving in to deep sobs that threatened to overwhelm her.

  “Baby,” she said in a strangled voice, fighting to sound as brave and strong as he did. “I’d be honored to be your mom, but I can’t replace your real mom. We’ll always remember her.”

  “Okay,” he said, his voice a little brighter. “Okay.”

  “Ria?” her mother’s voice took over the line.

  “Yes, Mom.” She squeezed her fingers into fists, her nails digging into her palms. The pain helped hold her together. Oh, God, that brave little boy.

  “He needs you.” Her voice broke on the last word.

  “I know. I’ll be home as soon as I can. Right now, this is more important.”

  “Be careful then.”

  “I will. Bye, Mom.”

  She ended the call and fell to her side on the bed, tucking her knees to her chest. Her poor, sweet nephew. She’d spend the rest of her life helping him, she vowed.

  The scanner beeped, and she rolled off of the bed and checked the screen before removing the slide. She blinked several times as her body stiffened. Could this be a clue? It was certainly unexpected. She entered the code to transfer the data to her pad. Dr. Manson had to see this.

  Chapter Eight

  “This is very interesting, Ria.” Dr. Manson ran a forefinger down the report on her pad, his breathing quickening. “Why would Pleistophora mulleri show up so far from home in the brain of a whale?”

  “Exactly my question. I suppose it could be a scanner error, but I doubt it.” She shifted back and forth on her feet, adrenalin coursing through her veins. This had to be important. A parasite normally found in shrimp in Northern Ireland did not belong in a whale’s brain located in the Gulf of Mexico.

  “I’ll need to study the organism in more detail.” He handed her the pad then pursed his lips. He stared off into the distance a moment, then gave her a brief glance.

  She nodded. “In that case, we’ll need to return to the university so I can isolate it from the tissue in a secure environment. Damn, I wish we had live samples.”

  He lifted his wrist comm. “I’m going to ask for the group to meet so we can share this news. Then, I agree, we need to return to Omaha as soon as possible.”

  She hurried to her room to insert another chip before returning to the glass room. She had no time to waste. She had to extract all possible information from the tissue samples. The South had inferior scanners if they missed this parasite. When she scrolled through their data, it was listed. That meant they didn’t know it as a common parasite in an uncommon place.

  “Let’s go,” Louis called from the hall.

  The others quickly emerged from their rooms and headed for the meeting area. After repeating the series of security checks, they arrived in the strange glass room about the same time as the South group. Dr. Butler gave her a curious look as he sank into the seat beside her.

  “Did you find something in the samples?” he asked.

  “Maybe.” She nodded toward Dr. Manson.

  “Let’s get started,” the big man said, moving a finger over his tech-pad. “Miss Moralez has been running the tissue samples through our portable scanner, as you know. She found an anomaly that needs further investigation. A parasite named Pleistophora mulleri was identified in the whale brain tissue.”

  “I understand that is a common parasite in shrimp, which is one of the food sources of those whales,” Dr. Butler said. “We didn’t note it as an anomaly.”

  “Understandable,” Louis said.

  That was gracious. Ria forced a neutral expression. If they had decent parasitologists, it would have been a red flag.

  “However, this particular parasite is normally common only in a species of shrimp found in Northern Ireland.” Louis nodded in her direction. “My assistant recognized this finding as one that indicated a deviation from the norm and needs further analysis.”

  Dr. Quentin crossed her arms over her chest. “I don’t see why that is so significant. Species move to new environments all the time.”

  Dr. Manson hesitated a few seconds as though carefully considering his response. “That’s true. But Northern Ireland and the Gulf of Mexico are quite a distance apart. There should be some sign of migration other than this sudden appearance. The other issue is finding the parasite in the whale’s brain. It should stay in the intestinal tract and be eliminated. This is a shrimp parasite, not a whale parasite. Again, there should be some sign of transition, not a dramatic leap of this nature.”

  The South’s epidemiologist tucked her chin and stared at the tabletop. Dr. Peter flushed pink and focused his gaze on the floor.

  “That is compelling,” Dr. Butler admitted. “We only recognized it as a common parasite. What you’re saying would indicate a suspicious genetic mutation.”

  “Correct,” Louis said.

  Ria shifted in her chair, reassessing her previous opinion of Lincoln Butler. He was open-minded at least, and smart to see where this discovery led.

  “Then what’s our next step?” the Southern marine biologist asked.

  Annaria cleared her throat. “That will require us separating the parasite from the tissue sample in a spe
cialized containment environment and examining it for a spectrum of mutations. We can’t do that here, obviously. We need to return to our lab in Omaha.”

  A prickly atmosphere of anticipation settled over the group. Beside her, Dr. Butler sent a message to his team in Birmingham on his pad, alerting them to this development and directing them to begin more studies. Good for him.

  “I asked the South’s fortress facility to provide us with dinner,” Dr. Skinner said. “I suggest we have a meal and spend the last of our time together discussing the possibilities of this latest development before the Northern contingent has to leave.”

  Dr. Manson inclined his head to the infectious disease expert. “An excellent idea. This team will continue to work together until the threat is eliminated, so we should get to know one another.”

  The group dissolved into micro conversations between individuals as they stood to stretch their legs for the next half hour. Dr. Butler seemed particularly intent on making a good impression with his genial smile. She would have preferred to wait in silence.

  “When do you complete your PhD?” he asked.

  “Probably not until next year, given this emergency. I always put aside my studies when Louis needs me for his work.”

  “You’ve been with him a while?”

  “Six years.” She didn’t really want to chitchat. If she couldn’t be in Omaha, mourning her sister, she’d rather work on the slides in her room.

  He cleared his throat. “I wanted to say again how sorry I am about your sister. It’s horrible you had to leave so abruptly after it happened.”

  Irritation bubbled past her reason. She replied in a sharp tone, “Since it was probably someone from the South who murdered her, I wish you would stop talking about it. It’s not appropriate.”

  He paled and took a step back. The others in the room stalled their conversations. They may not have heard what she said, but the tenor of her voice was unmistakable. Louis hurried to her side and put a hand on her shoulder then leaned over and said something in Linc’s ear. The southerner nodded and gave her an apologetic nod and moved away.