What an astute young woman she was, he reflected. Nailed it. Buzz had, essentially, three levels of concern about others: he would do anything for them; he might come to care for them (Jo being the obvious example of that); and he didn’t give a hoot. This latter category applied to almost everyone, whether he knew them personally or not.
No, he was being a little too rough on himself. He didn’t mean harm to anyone, and he had tried to stop the flood, but he didn’t have the empathy he saw in Anna, Jo and, indeed, Jodi.
“I guess you’re right,” he said as they went into the barn building that had been converted into a hospital. It only had two beds, now, and both were empty, though he glanced at the one Jo had occupied as if he could magic her into place. Right now, she would be tucked up in bed in the main house, slowly recovering from the contagion that had almost killed herself and Jodi.
“Where are we going?” Jodi asked.
He smiled as he looked at her. “Into my secret lab. I want to show you something.”
“Ooh, mysterious!”
The “lab”, as it turned out, was a small room with a desk pushed into one corner, the greenish light from a small obscured-glass window falling on a large LCD panel. Buzz flicked the light switch and the room resolved into the perfect reflection of a chaotic mind. Paperwork littered the top of a bookcase full of books at every angle but ninety degrees. A plate with a large slab of stale bread and some plastic cheese sat on the desk alongside the computer keyboard.
“It’s a pain, but I have to start the PC up every time I come in here. It won’t be a minute,” he said as the box on the floor whirred into life.
He swiveled around. “I know there’s nothing I can do about the flood itself. Hundreds of millions of people died because of something I might have prevented.”
“It wasn’t your fault…”
“I keep wondering what I should have done differently. I could, at least, have tried harder.”
“Look, Uncle Buzz…”
He put his hand up as his machine finished booting. “It’s okay. I have to live with it. I can’t bring those people back, but I think I can reverse the cause of the flood and, perhaps, make the water return to where it’s supposed to be: the Antarctic.”
“Riiight. You’re going to have to give me more of a clue. I don’t even know what caused the flood in the first place.”
He threw up his hands. “Of course! I’m so sorry. I sometimes imagine that everyone knows what I know. Well, you know I’m a microbiologist. My area of research was xenobots…”
“Which are?”
“Essentially organic machines. Take simple organisms and use a supercomputer to simulate what would happen if, say, the mitochondria of one single-celled organism was transplanted into another and, perhaps, altered in some way.”
Jodi’s mouth had dropped open as he spoke. “Sounds like some kind of freakish experiment.”
“Maybe, but the potential benefits are incredible. Imagine an organism that consumes plastic and excretes a harmless substance. We could clean the oceans in a few years.”
“And you were working on that?”
He nodded. “Yeah. I got it to the trial stage, but I couldn’t get funding. There’s no money in plastic removal, it seems. And then Professor Rath got in touch and recruited me to what became known as SaPIEnT—a stupid name and even more ridiculous now, given that it means…”
“…Wise.”
“Yes. They were developing a xenobot that would raise the melting point of ocean water, so it would stay frozen at higher temperatures.”
“Because of global warming? Meaning that we could continue to pump CO2 into the air without the sea level rising.”
Buzz nodded. “Exactly. Of course, I’d have preferred going another way, but getting the governments of the world to take the action needed wasn’t looking likely.”
“So, what went wrong?”
“They mutated. A dominant strain emerged that did exactly the opposite—lowering the melting point so even the Antarctic melted. The last part to go melted catastrophically, sending the surge around the world.”
Jodi looked at the simulation running on Buzz’s computer as the green and browns of the Earth’s surface became blue.
“Wow. Savage.”
“Your map was excellent, by the way,” Buzz said, tracing his fingers around the outline of North America. “Given the information you had, you could hardly have done better.”
Jodi flushed despite herself, and mumbled an embarrassed “thanks”. Then she said, “So, what is it you wanted to show me?”
“Ah, for that I’ll switch over to my Raspberry Pi.”
“Your what?”
He opened the lid of an old wooden cigar box. “Joel gave me this. He bought it from an auction of props from a collector of Charlton Heston memorabilia. Joel’d be as mad as hell if he knew I’d drilled a hole for the wires.”
He tilted it up and Jodi could see what looked like a small circuit board with a couple of flashing LEDs in one corner and cables fed through a hole in the side of the box.
“It’s a low power computer. Only draws fifteen watts, so I can leave it running without draining the batteries too much. You remember the supercomputers I mentioned that work out xenobot designs? Well, this is the best I can do. A tiny fraction of the power, but I can leave it running until it spits out some candidates. It’s my own model, you know.”
He switched the HDMI input on the monitor and it was instantly filled with white text scrolling down the screen. “See, a few worth looking into. Very unlikely we’ve hit the jackpot already, but it’s progress.”
“And what are you trying to design?”
He swiveled in the seat again and his face broke out into a grin. “A better xenobot. One that will hunt and destroy the population that itself replaced: the version released by SaPIEnT.”
“Then what?”
“Then it’ll restore the equilibrium. Released at the South Pole, it’ll cause the water to freeze, drawing liquid seawater into it, deepening the ice and lowering the sea level.”
“Back to where it was?”
Buzz shrugged. “For that to be the case, I’d have to get my calculations correct to an implausible level of accuracy. But if the new sea level is five meters above or below the historic one, then billions of acres would be restored and at least some of our coastal cities.”
“I dunno, Uncle Buzz. What if you make things even worse?”
“How can it be worse? There’s no more water on the planet, so even if I get it terribly wrong, humanity will be better off for it. You never know, I might even get a little credit.”
He watched as his niece left to do her chores. She and Max were too similar for comfort. She had a wonderful mind, but she was too willing to look for flaws. Buzz would continue his research, he’d find the perfect candidate organism, and he’d restore the world he’d grown up in.
He chuckled to himself, trying hard to suppress the mania in his excitement. It would not do to be discovered cackling like some Doctor Evil. He was going to save the world, not destroy it. And then they would be grateful.
Chapter 4
Max
It took four days for Max to calm down. Hank had tried everything he could think of to settle the boy, but a paralyzing terror had wrapped around him the moment the shore of Buzz’s island had disappeared.
“It’s a kind of agoraphobia,” Patrick had said. “I knew an actor once who would hide in the smallest space he could between takes. I found him in a broom cupboard once, shaking like a leaf. It was the open space of the set that triggered him. In between, he was the life and soul of the party.”
“Well, as far as I’m concerned, Max can stay in his cabin for the crossing.”
“Problem is, the rocking of the boat makes it worse, even when he’s inside.”
“So, what’s the answer, Dr. Freud?”
Patrick shrugged. “Medication. Of which we have precisely none.”
Ellie
and Patrick had tried to sit with Max, to give Hank a break, but Max wouldn’t tolerate anyone other than his friend, and neither could he stand to be alone.
“I reckon he’s just about tuckered hisself out,” Hank said, emerging from the cabin and shutting the door behind him. “It’s kinda like his brain don’t want to accept he’s on a boat at sea. But I think it’s gettin’ close to givin’ in.”
“You look knackered,” Patrick said. “Go get some sleep in the spare cabin. I’ll keep an ear out for Max.”
Hank didn’t argue, he merely put a thankful hand on Patrick’s shoulder and shuffled past.
“Good grief, he looks half dead.”
Ellie nodded. “Yeah, but I’m glad he’s here. I wouldn’t have wanted to babysit the boy. I’d have given him a slap.”
“How very maternal.”
“You’re funny. Not. Right, I’m going to start the engines for our morning cruise over the ruins of our country.” She spun on her heels and headed up to the fly deck.
Patrick watched her go, paying particular attention to her rear, which swayed pleasantly as she walked. He suspected she knew the effect she had on him and exaggerated her gait accordingly. They’d spoken about their brief kiss on the island, and he’d been pleased she hadn’t claimed either that she couldn’t remember, or that it had been an inconsequential accident. It had meant something to her, just as it had meant something to him. But, since they were the only crew now, one of them was on duty at all times. It was only last evening that Ellie had managed to tie up to the top of an antenna that poked out of the sea’s surface. The windy weather that had propelled them west—and no doubt contributed to Max’s discomfort—had dropped and she thought it worth the risk to pause for one night.
For a time, Patrick had thought his luck was in, but she was so exhausted she fell asleep on the banquette, her head in his lap, and so he sat there, unable to move, until she finally woke in the early hours and he guided her to bed. They shared a warm kiss he could still taste on his lips before she rolled over and instantly went back to sleep.
He smiled as he thought of it, as he’d smiled when they met in the morning and hugged.
Then he heard a noise from inside the cabin. Max was sitting up in bed.
“Where…where’s Hank?”
Patrick slipped inside and sat in the chair beside the bed. “I sent him to bed. You know, he’s hardly had any sleep since we left.”
Max stared into the half-light, as if expecting Hank to appear from the shadows. “Get him for me!”
“He needs sleep, Max.”
“Please! I can feel the panic coming again.”
Patrick reached forward with his hand, but Max shrunk away, his face contorted.
“It’s okay, son. I won’t harm you,” he said, speaking softly as the boy made gentle sobbing noises, though he wasn’t weeping. “It’s a pity, though, as I’ve got something here you might be interested in.”
The effect was instant. “Wh…what do you mean?”
Patrick made to get up. “It can wait. I need to know you’re not going to throw it overboard.”
With a big inward breath, Max sucked the boogers back up his nose and sat up straight, composing himself. “I’m okay, honest.”
“You’re sure?”
Max nodded eagerly, his face clearing, his gaze hungry.
“Jodi gave me something before we left. She said you might find it useful.” He reached into his pocket and drew out the flash drive. “This was plugged into the laptop Buzz lent you.”
Max let out a shriek, as if he’d seen the world’s biggest spider. It took Patrick a few moments to realize the boy was excited, not frightened.
“O.M.G! Are you serious? Is the data still on it? Can we check?” he blurted out, leaning forward. Then he froze. “But we haven’t got a computer…”
Patrick smiled. “Yes, we have. Jodi’s laptop is stowed under her bed. This bed, in fact.”
“Really?”
Max folded over and reached down, searching beneath the bed and coming out with the small silver computer.
He held out a hand for the flash drive again, but Patrick backed away. “You promise you’ll look after it? You won’t do anything daft?”
“I’ll look after it,” Max said, nodding enthusiastically, taking the dongle and plugging it into the computer.
“Only, a few minutes ago, you were acting a little…crazy.”
Max sighed, and put the laptop down on the bed cover. “I hate being on this boat. Especially now we’re… now we’re out on the open sea. I feel like there’s nothing to stop me falling to the bottom. But it’s made worse if I don’t have something for my mind to do. If I can stay inside, and use the laptop, then I can pretend I’m not on a boat at all. I know it sounds weird…”
Patrick smiled. “We’re all weird in our own way, Max.”
For the first time since they’d left the island, the boy grinned. He turned on the laptop, and the last thing Patrick saw as he left the room was Max’s eager face bathed in blue light, his eyes hungrily searching the screen and sucking it in.
#
Patrick sat on the port bow, his bare feet tickled by the water as Kujira slipped through a relatively calm sea. He’d found his fishing line and hook, and after baiting it, he’d spent a happy hour zoning out as the wavelets passed by, reflecting a gray/blue sky. He kept his mind free of any thoughts about what was beneath his feet, though he knew from the boat’s GPS that they would be somewhere over Checotah right now. They’d seen very little floating debris since they’d set off from the island and, in fact, the horizon was clear in all directions. So, he could pretend he was on a relaxing cruise.
“Pat!”
So much for the dream.
He twisted around and looked up, his neck stiff from being in one position for so long.
“You’d make a hell of a fish wife!” he yelled back.
She ignored him, merely gesturing for him to come to the saloon. With a sigh, he pulled in the line, wrapped it around a spool created from a water bottle, poked the baited hook inside and clambered stiffly across the trampoline.
“What is it, dear?” he said. “Is dinner ready?”
“Oh, ha ha,” Ellie said, scowling and gesturing at the galley table.
Patrick nodded at an exhausted looking Hank and his energized companion. “Hi guys, what’s going on?” He glanced at the laptop which was sitting on the counter top.
“Max here thinks he’s gotten to the bottom of Buzz’s involvement with the flood.”
“Oh, come off it! I’ve told you I know Buzz and he’s no mass murderer.”
“If someone pushes over a rock that starts an avalanche, is it their fault that people die or has the snow killed them?” Max asked.
Patrick stabbed a finger at him. “You can come up with any theory you like, I won’t buy it.”
“I thought you didn’t know Buzz that well,” Ellie said.
He looked across at her. “I didn’t. But I spent enough time with him and watched him at work. And, anyway, Joel thought the world of him, though he wouldn’t admit it to his brother. He was in awe of Buzz. He said he wouldn’t hurt a fly.”
“The evidence is here,” Max said, jabbing a finger at the screen. “No wonder he got so angry when he found out what I’d been doing. I’ve got dozens of team communications and Buzz was sent almost every one. And there’s a ton of encrypted files I haven’t been able to crack yet.”
“He was in it up to his eyeballs, Pat,” Ellie said, putting her hand on his arm and sending an involuntary shudder through him. “We’ve got to accept that. I mean, after all, what practical difference does it make?”
“It’s a matter of justice,” Patrick said, before turning to Max. “And you’d better be pretty damned certain.”
“He is, ain’t you Max?” Hank said, stifling a yawn so he could interject.
“Pretty certain. He’s definitely involved, so he has to share at least some of the blame. Everything I�
�ve seen suggests he was a major part of the team. I think he was responsible, but I can’t be a hundred percent sure, no.”
Patrick nodded. Max was a difficult customer to handle at times, but honesty was one of his redeeming features. He might bend the truth, but Patrick suspected he’d find telling a barefaced lie practically impossible.
“It’s a pity he came in when he did when I was using his computer. I’d found a way in and was starting to download everything.”
“There’s more?”
“On the Denver Institute server,” Max said with a nod.
“What a pity the internet’s not working anymore,” Patrick said.
Ellie sighed. “It sort of is. My satellite connection is pretty pathetic, but Max thinks he can hack into it.”
“Of course he can. Seems to me you lot have stitched me up behind my back. Didn’t you think I’d go along with it?”
Ellie rubbed his arm. “Oh it wasn’t like that, dear. It was just that you were off fishing and we were kinda chatting about it around the kitchen table. Which is where a woman’s place is, wouldn’t you agree?”
“You are hilarious,” Patrick said, smiling. “Sure, let Mr. Black Hat here loose on your connection. Just remember that it was your idea, will you? Oh, and where’s my dinner?”
#
“He’s what?” Else Lundberg said, swiveling around as Frederick Rath came in, his lab coat flapping in his wake.
“Either he has moved or our triangulation method is… unreliable. Or he has found a way of faking his location.”
“Surely it is simple enough to mask an IP address?”
“Indeed, but if he were using a VPN, he would not have appeared close to the location our friends at Hazleton told us of. According to their operative, he is on what is now an island in Arkansas. We don’t know exactly where the island is, or his precise location on it, or we would have sent Helmut already.”
“Is it possible that they are lying to us? Trying to throw us off the scent?”
Survivors: Deluge Book 3: (A Thrilling Post-Apocalyptic Survival Story) Page 3