Isonation

by In Churl Yo

  “That’s why you’re here, isn’t it? To help?”

  “Oh, I’m good, but I’m not that good. I suggest you reconsider your plan because if you’re thinking about attempting to breach that facility, you’re already dead. Is that bit of advice helpful enough?”

  Caleb looked at the camera as if to say, Now what? He exited the stall, locked the gate and went up to the cabin to join his friends.

  “That went well,” said Neema.

  “Which part?” asked Caleb. “He’s hiding something.”

  “I’ve accessed his cufflink. He’s been exchanging messages with someone named ‘Big Boss’, but they’re encrypted,” said Milton.

  Neema shook her head. “That’ll be Theo Ogden, the CEO of Ceres Corp. If he’s reporting to Ogden I don’t see how we can trust him. We’re better off getting rid of Nox as soon as possible.”

  “We’re not going to hurt him, are we?” Zoah asked. “He did save us from being traced.”

  “That’s what he claims anyway. No, we’ll fill a pack with provisions and drop him off three days’ walk from Seattle on our way,” said Caleb.

  Zoah stepped closer to the monitor and looked at their prisoner. “So, we’re still going to New Mexico even after Nox warned us not to.”

  Neema put her hand on Zoah’s shoulder. “We have to. It’s our only option left if we’re to uncover the truth.”

  “All roads lead to New Mexico,” said Milton. “But we’ll have to go in blind. Even if Nox is lying I don’t think we should risk another attempt at logging into their node point—too risky.”

  “The whole damn thing is risky, but I don’t see that we have any other choice,” said Caleb.

  Zoah, however, wasn’t quite so sure.

  # # #

  A sudden thermal updraft disrupted the smooth ride of the transport drone lifting Theodore Ogden out of his seat and sending his drink off the table. He cursed not so much because of the turbulence but rather for the waste of the good two fingers breadth of rare bourbon he still had left in his glass—rare not because he was running low on bottles in his personal inventory, or that the run was small, but rare because the bottler itself no longer existed. The fact that the craft of distilling was almost extinct sent a small wave of nausea through Ogden that he had to fight down. Or perhaps it was just a bit of airsickness after all. Either way, he was not very happy as he regarded the small stain on the carpet where the liquid had seeped in—gone forever, alas.

  As a rule, he did not travel. The risk always far outweighed the reward by his estimation; besides, there were people for that sort of thing. He much preferred the safety of his home and office, where redundant safety measures kept a myriad of hazards at bay, most notably of course the Zombie Flu. If necessary, he’d just have the world come to him and on his terms. This was by no means an extravagance afforded by position or wealth. Ogden considered the arrangement essential to his very survival.

  But today was the rare occurrence when he ventured from his self-imposed gilded cage—a special occasion for a very special person. But then it would have to be for Ogden to sacrifice his safety and his bourbon.

  A modulating tone signaled an incoming call, and he pressed a nearby panel to engage the transmission. An adjacent screen changed from displaying various Ceres business metrics to the smiling face of Ogden’s assistant.

  “Theo, I have that call you requested.”

  “Alright, Sara. Put it through,” he said. The image altered to a very tired and annoyed-looking man in uniform. “Thank you for meeting with me, Major.”

  “You’re a busy man, Mr. Ogden, so I’m sure you’ll appreciate it when I ask that we keep this brief. I’ve been putting out fires non-stop for the last two weeks ever since your man put a hole in my building.”

  “Yes, that’s why I wanted to speak with you. You were the Officer in Charge during the prisoner escape.”

  The Major sighed. He had been the one lucky enough to be on duty that day. “It’s all in the report,” the officer said.

  “I’ve read it. Twice. But now I want to hear it from you in person.”

  “I don’t know that there’s much more I could add.”

  “Oh, I’m not interested in the words you’ve written or for even more verbose descriptions of the events that transpired. What I want to know about is what you were feeling.”

  “Come again?”

  “Your intuition. Your gut. Did the hairs on the back of your neck bristle? Did you feel a gnawing ache in the pit of your stomach that forced you into action lest it consume you from the inside?”

  “I don’t know anything about that. I did find it odd that when my men caught up with the prisoner your agent was nowhere to be found. And correct me if I’m wrong, but didn’t they steal his ship to make their getaway? I’d say the only thing that felt wrong to me during that whole damn mess was him.”

  “I assure you my agent is above reproach,” Ogden said, “and there are events in motion you are unaware of because they sit above your pay grade, Major. Nevertheless, I appreciate your candor. Perhaps it will serve you well in your next assignment in Antarctica.”

  “Excuse me? What the hell--”

  “I’m kidding, of course! Just a tiny joke. But I do have one last question to pose before I go. What was it that prompted you to send your men out of quarantine down to level five into harm’s way?”

  The officer rubbed the back of his neck and thought about the question. “Well, God never made a promise that was too good to be true. The status readings from my panels weren’t jibing with the circumstances we were in, and it made me suspicious. Now, if you want to suggest my gut had something to do with my decision that’s your call, but in my experience, everything falls back to discipline and training. That’s what gets the job done. That’s what gets you home.”

  “And I would say that the one informs the other. Whether you see it or not, our motivations often reveal a truth we sometimes won’t admit to but cannot deny. It’s what makes us human, flawed and forever interesting. Thank you for your time, Major.” Ogden pressed the panel to end communications and checked the time. He was due to arrive soon and still had his morning reports to review, but they would have to wait for the return trip home.

  Before long, Ogden’s ship was connecting with the docking collar at his destination, and a chime at the end of the pressurization cycle signaled it was safe for him to disembark. He gathered his briefcase and stepped out into the hallway, then made a right turn and headed for the sunroom. She preferred the warmth the natural light afforded her there, and it was where Ogden usually found her.

  “Hello, mother.”

  Miranda Pyle turned in her chair and regarded him lovingly, then waved Ogden over to her for a hug.

  “You look well,” he continued.

  “Well enough for 78, you mean?”

  “58 at most. Happy birthday.” Ogden handed her a ribbon-laden box full of her favorite truffles and sat down on the couch with her.

  “Honestly, this is too much. Do you know how much an ounce of chocolate goes for these days?”

  “No clue,” he lied, “but nothing’s too good for my favorite lady.”

  Miranda gave him a smile, then turned her gaze through the wall of glass to the sparkling vista of distant trees and rolling hills. “You know I’ve always loved this view,” she said. “When your father built this place, he paid careful attention to our surroundings. Said that if he was going to be confined to a box, he was going to be damn well sure there’d be something interesting to look at. He was not wrong.”

  “I’m sorry I haven’t come by to see you sooner. It’s been harder to get away lately.”

  “Problems at Ceres? Anything serious?” she asked.

  “No. Nothing worth mentioning.”

  “It’s the little things that keep the mind busy, just make sure they don’t distract from the big ones,” Miranda said. “Theo, you’ve done a wonderful job as CEO since your father passed.”

  “T
hank you. I couldn’t have done it without you.”

  “Oh, I don’t know about that. You’ve been quite bossy since you were little.”

  Ogden smiled. “Alright then, confession time. It’s hard for me to admit this, seeing as I’m the man who’s solely responsible for keeping the entire world from collapsing in on itself, but do you remember if father ever felt like he wasn’t in control? Like things were happening around him without his knowledge?”

  “All the time. It’s the nature of the beast. A multi-national conglomerate controlling the planet’s supply chain is hard to keep under one man’s thumb, even if it’s attached to someone as talented as an Ogden. Tell me what’s troubling you.”

  “Simply acknowledging it out loud gives the damn thing life,” he said, hesitating. “There have been…incursions to Ceres facilities by outside factions. They call themselves Kiters, and their agenda is unclear. Our investigators tell me these people believe we’re hiding something from them, but what that might be I can’t imagine. If they only knew how fragile the line between our current stability and utter chaos was, they might not be so keen to tear us down. Do you believe there could be any truth in what they’re saying?”

  Miranda looped her arm around Ogden’s and pulled him closer to her. “Your mother--”

  “You’re my mother. Always have been,” Ogden interrupted.

  “Your birth mother,” she continued, “shortly after she was infected by the Zombie Flu, confided something to me that I believe she’d like for me to share with you now. For a time, she was convinced that it was important for the sake of her infant son that your father remarry so that the child would never know that his mother had died. She couldn’t bear the thought of her boy growing up with a constant fear and resentment of a changed, dangerous world that had taken someone so close to him.

  “But she soon realized she was only projecting her own fears—fear that humanity might not survive the horrific pandemic and fear that her son would never have a normal life in a world without a future. Then she found her faith, and not just a religious faith. It was her ultimate belief that mankind’s resourcefulness and resilience would overcome. Even more important, your mother discovered her faith in you, that despite your hardships growing up in an impossible reality she believed that her son, that you, would succeed.

  “Theo, these problems you face will pass. You must have faith in yourself and confidence that the truth will win out. All this time I’ve been honest with you about your mother, and you’ve grown into a fine young man. She was an amazing woman who didn’t so much stand behind your father as she was beside him helping create this new society we live in today. And even in the end, she did not let her fear control her. Your father loved her very much, and in your own way I know you do too.”

  “I do,” he agreed, “but I love you more.”

  “That’s sweet of you to say, and since it’s my birthday I’ll let you say it. Now, I don’t know about you, but I’m beginning to feel a bit peckish. We should go see about dinner. The chef has promised something special tonight.”

  “You go on ahead,” said Ogden. “I still have a few calls to make before we eat.”

  Once Miranda left, he accessed the nearest communications panel and waited for the call to connect and project Sara onto the screen.

  “Yes, Mr. Ogden?”

  “I’ve had a change of heart, Sara. Would you please cancel the Major’s transfer orders? He’ll be remaining in Taiwan for the foreseeable future. Then have security track down Nox. And tell them to make it a priority—I need to speak with him as soon as possible.”

  # # #

  Zoah woke up in a fit and covered in sweat. The vision was always the same—she had contracted the Zombie Flu. She was walking on an empty city street and had no control of her movements, no voice with which to speak. The fetid details of her own decay, the vacancy in her dead eyes, horrified Zoah more every time she experienced the nightmare. She prayed it would end, but instead the image always returned with increasing intensity.

  There were others, too. Each of them infected at various degrees, and all always advancing toward her, until at the end they were upon her, clawing, biting. Zoah reached up through the mass, fighting for escape. A pile of blue skin, tattered cloth, matted hair in pigtails, all within a sea of dead, overwhelmed her. She couldn’t breathe or see, as a suffocating darkness consumed everything…

  These days, sleep had been elusive for Zoah but after the dream always impossible. She changed into warmer clothes and decided a walk in the night air might help calm her nerves, or at the very least distract them for a time. As soon as she moved out into the open, her feet took over and Zoah walked with purpose through the yard and to the barn until she stood just outside the stall where Nox was being held.

  Zoah unlocked the gate and walked inside. The prisoner’s head popped up and turned as he listened to her step toward him.

  “Zoah Lightsea,” Nox said, his back to her, “you’re a tad past visiting hours. What brings you here to these lavish accommodations?”

  “Are you warm enough?” she asked, eyeing the heating unit in the corner Milton had set up and thinking it wasn’t sufficient for the space Nox was in.

  “I’ve had worse nights, although I think my left arm has gone numb.”

  “You said you’re here to help. Why?”

  “Let’s just say I have a vested interest.”

  “You’re being evasive.”

  “Am I? Why don’t you spend 12 hours tied up in a cold, smelly barn and see how you feel? I understand your skepticism, but I assure you I’m a man of my word, Zoah. Sometimes your word is all you have.”

  “We’re going to try to infiltrate the New Mexico facility tomorrow.”

  “You’ll surely die,” Nox said.

  “Then help us. Please.”

  He took a deep breath then demonstrated his frustration by thrashing at his bonds, causing his chair to hop around in small circles, his voice a mix of grunts and cursing. When Nox was done, he began to chuckle.

  “Are you finished?” Zoah asked.

  “I guess we’ll find out together. There may be a way, but you’re not going to like it. In fact, I have no doubt the rest of your merry band is going to hate it.” Nox tilted his head back and followed Zoah as she leaned in close to his face to respond.

  “Tell me.”

  CHAPTER 17

  When the heaviness lifted and the effort to fight it became a feedback loop that distorted her thoughts until she roused into an annoyed and weary consciousness, Neema threw back the covers in a huff. All she wanted was nothing more than to just once have a full night’s sleep—to get up feeling rested and prepared for what the day had in store for her. Everything had become a challenge of late, and it seemed unfair to Neema that her mind had also chosen to conspire against her and rob her of her nights as well. There was no rest for the wicked and none for the righteous either.

  The founder of the Kiter movement fumbled in the darkness to find her clothes and get dressed. It was imperative she got to the kitchen as quickly as possible because the coffee would not make itself. Neema needed several mugs of it if she had any hope of leading a virtual rebellion to save all of mankind, much less function.

  It sounded a bit ridiculous to her when she thought about it like that, but the world, like Neema, was being held hostage—and as the literal and the figurative, each a side of the same coin, they both needed one another to save them from their imposed captivity. She could never walk away; never not know the truth. The more she uncovered, the more Neema became entrenched in her cause.

  As she rounded into the kitchen, the familiar smell of ground beans greeted her, followed by Milton’s smiling face. “Couldn’t sleep either?” Neema asked as she watched him crank the wooden grinder.

  “Never really went to sleep,” he responded. “I’ve been lying in my cot trying to figure out a way into New Mexico.”

  “Any luck? Do I have to guess?”

  “We’
re screwed. Unequivocally.”

  “That’s your expert opinion?” Neema chuckled. “It’s a good thing you’re not in charge then.”

  “Says who? I’m a natural-born leader. I’ve got skills.”

  “Oh, you’ve got skills,” she agreed. “Please just tell me they include boiling water.” Milton pointed toward the fireplace, and Neema retrieved the steaming enameled pot. Soon the two settled at the end of the dinner table with hot mugs full of java in hand. The liquid warmed her inside, and she could feel the caffeine begin its work.

  “What you said earlier? You’re not wrong,” Neema said.

  Milton nodded in agreement.

  “But something will come to us,” she continued. “It always does.”

  “And if it doesn’t?”

  Neema took a sip instead of answering. She knew if they were going to pull this off, they’d need something extraordinary to happen in their favor. While she didn’t know what that could be, the thought did spark a wild idea that she dismissed out of hand because it was impossible and would never ever happen in a million years.

  “What?” asked Milton. He’d been studying her face waiting for an answer to his question and saw her expression change. “You have an idea—something.”

  “Forget it,” said Neema.

  “Throw it out there. Start the conversation. Beats talking about the weather.”

  “I don’t know why I even thought of it, but perhaps it’s time to call in the Kiter Five.” She sighed. Her crazy idea had now been released into the universe.

  “You said the Kiter Five don’t get together. I know this because you told me when I asked for membership that the only way to join was an in-person vote and that during your last meeting it had been decided the Kiter Five would never, ever meet in person again. Never, ever. Those were your exact words.”

  “I know what I said,” Neema responded. “But our situation is dire. Besides, what kind of leader would I be if I didn’t renege on a promise I made every now and again? They could help.”