Seasons of Man | Book 2 | Reap What You Sow

by Anderson, S. M.

  “Look, they haven’t fired on any of our people who didn’t start shit with them,” Josh explained. “Cooper told me to get somebody I trust to keep their mouth shut to deliver her message.” Which was only partially true. He needed somebody he trusted to deliver his message. If Cooper found out that he’d put at risk the guy who kept the lights on . . . he might as well pack his bags and go deliver the message himself. A big part of him wanted to do just that, but that would only put him under suspicion.

  “Just drive up, white flag flying? Fuck . . . you.”

  “They’re twelve miles up the road at the Zion Crossroads overpass. You can be up and back in less than half an hour.”

  Eric just grinned at him and shook his head. “It’s so safe, you do it.”

  “I would, but Cooper doesn’t want me talking to them. Trust me.”

  “She that paranoid?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Look.” Eric waved away the question. “I do trust you; you know that. We had each other’s backs when no one else did. You want me to deliver the message, I will. But only if you drive.” Eric pointed at the open-topped jeep sitting behind the roadblock on the freeway. He’d already mounted a white flag from the whip antenna.

  He immediately warmed to the idea. No one would be excited to drive up to the enemy that had them encircled, and he’d say as much to Cooper if asked. “Deal!” He smiled. “But remember, I’m just your driver.”

  Eric made to hand back the sealed envelope, and he refused it with two upraised palms. “You’re the messenger.” He jerked a thumb at his own chest. “Driver.”

  The people manning the roadblock all looked at them like they were crazy as they sat in the jeep and waited for the Bradley, acting as the gate, to be started up and rolled away. Eric smiled at him and indicated the surprise on the faces of the guards watching them. “You think they know something we don’t?”

  “It’s the militia,” he whispered. “She’ll have told somebody here exactly what we are doing.”

  He put the jeep into gear, and rolled slowly through the gate opening. Cars were welded together four high and reinforced with Jersey barriers and rough, unfinished concrete. Behind them, the wall itself was six cars high and stretched across the entire freeway to anchor itself in the hills lining the interstate.

  “What are we doing?”

  “Cooper thinks she’s delivering a message that all the soldiers surrounding us are going to start dying of the virus.”

  Eric shook his head as if to clear it and then turned on him. “And you asked me to deliver that message? What the fuck!”

  He smiled at his friend. “That’s not the only message in the envelope; I added a message of my own.”

  Eric sat quietly for a moment as the jeep picked up speed on the freeway. The hot, humid air felt like a blast furnace until they picked up enough speed to get some degree of cooling. “If this is a long story, you’d better slow the fuck down. I mean it, Josh.”

  *

  “Get out slowly! Move away from the vehicle.” Uwasi didn’t yell. He didn’t have to; Kent Mason, Reed, and six of Reed’s combat team had met the jeep at the end of the exit lane off the freeway. In terms of uniforms, gear, and of late, deportment, there was little difference, if any, between one of the volunteers from Northern Virginia and one of the Marines. In a real fight, Drew knew the difference would be huge, and would stay that way for some time, maybe forever. But, as he observed the two men stepping lightly out of the jeep, he was pleased with what he saw.

  “Jen! Marcum! Pat them down.” Reed was starting to sound like an officer. Two of his people slung their weapons onto their backs, and moved forward under the barrels of their colleagues.

  “What is that?” Reed pointed at the manila envelope that Marcum had swatted to the ground.

  “It’s a message for your colonel, from Ms. Cooper.” The big guy, dressed in what looked like work overalls, pointed at his feet. “We’re just the messengers here, flag of truce and all that.”

  “Were you at your roadblock when we showed up, under a white flag?” Kent Mason sounded pissed. Drew couldn’t fault the man. He’d been wondering the same thing.

  “I was working on campus when that went down.”

  “How ’bout you, slick?” Mason adjusted his rifle and focused on the other man, who was dressed like some throwback to a contract group in Iraq; 5.11 pants, boots, and a wisely empty thigh holster. He may have driven the vehicle, but he looked like he was leading this circus.

  “I wasn’t,” the man said. “I was with General Marks, miles away. He did try to stop what happened.”

  “He tried?” Drew knew Mason and Naylor had become good friends. The man was justified in his anger. If Chief Sweet had been here, the messengers would probably have already been shot.

  “What’s the message?” Drew interjected, as he walked forward to step out in line with his people, between Reed and Mason. “I’m Colonel Skirjanek.”

  The contractor-looking guy turned his gaze to his larger companion in expectation. The big guy shook his head and took a slow step backwards. “Sorry, bud. I’m out of this.”

  “May I?” The contractor pointed at the envelope.

  “Go ahead,” Drew answered, as he stepped closer himself.

  “The message from Cooper was sealed, but I can guess what it says. The other message in there . . . was from me.”

  Drew thumbed the envelope and regarded the two men.

  “I wasn’t supposed to be here,” the driver explained. “I was supposed to find somebody I trusted to deliver it. I ended up agreeing to drive.”

  “I see.” Drew tore open the envelope. There was another, smaller envelope inside. A fancy, monogrammed thing with gold filigreed letters on it. Cooper must have been “someone” before the fall, he figured, though for the life of him, he couldn’t imagine the type of person who would have hung on to something as useless as personalized stationery during the apocalypse.

  He dumped the envelope on the ground and began reading. It was a short note, full of justifying bullshit and identification as a victim of military oppression before it simply announced that they’d all been infected by the virus - “and if you’re not already sick as you read this, you soon will be.” It went on to explain how the released prisoners they’d taken in had all been infected, as well as their gear. He wasn’t able to prevent the chill that crept up his back as he read the message, but his mind had already gone back to the message the refugees had found hidden in their gear. Whatever was on his face when he looked up, it caused the man in front of him to take a step back.

  “And your message?” He held up the piece of folded paper.

  “Cooper thinks we recreated the virus from the CDC lab at the university medical center,” the man got out in a rush. “We didn’t. We destroyed it.”

  “Who’s ‘we’?”

  “Me and our doctor. She’s a doctor, and I was . . . trusted enough to help her.”

  “Dr. Vance?” He enjoyed the look of surprise on the messenger’s face.

  “How . . . how could you know that?”

  Drew read the note the man had inserted into the envelope. It was a more verbose version of what Dr. Vance had planted in the refugees’ gear. The note was signed “Josh” at the bottom. “You’re Josh?”

  “Yeah, Josh Keynes.”

  “Cooper truly believes she’s had us infected?”

  “She does.” Josh nodded. “She’s trying to egg you on to attack us. She waited until she thought you’d all be sick.”

  “How many people were party to this plan?” Drew felt his throat constrict, as if he were trying to talk through an iron pipe. “How many people were OK with bringing back a bug that killed seven and a half billion people?” He dropped the papers to the ground and took a step towards the man.

  “Far as I know, just Cooper, General Marks, and the doc and I.”

  “I sure as shit didn’t know about it,” the big guy drawled. “That’s fucked up.
”

  Drew regarded both of them. “Tell her you just saw a few of us, and that we looked sick. You go back and tell her we’ll be coming.”

  “But—”

  “But nothing, Mr. Keynes. I have to believe you and Dr. Vance. No one here is sick. It’s something we’ve been on the lookout for since making landfall. Cooper is correct though—this isn’t something we are going to ignore.”

  He turned to look at the faces behind him. Reed and his people, who would have been immune to the biological attack, looked every bit as pissed off as Mason and Uwasi did.

  He faced the messengers. “We will attack, and we will destroy Cooper, Marks, and anybody who stands with them.” He looked at both of them, forcing himself to admit he owed a debt to the man standing in front of him. He and the doctor who took her oath seriously. “If you want to save your own people, then you’ve got your own message to start spreading.”

  He regarded both of them. “I know there are people who will stand by her, just as I know there are a lot of people who aren’t there by choice, especially at this point. You’d best get going. You’ve got until tomorrow night to get your people out of the way—or take care of the issue yourself. We’ve been very judicious as to our use of force up until this point; I’m starting not to care. Tomorrow night. Tell here we’re coming for her.”

  Chapter 28

  Jason unfolded the map and checked where he, Pavel, and Farmer were in relation to Pro. The kid was probably going to be pissed off, but he’d had a drone tracking him since he’d ridden out of camp. Poy was taking care not to lose sight of him, and the infrared camera had worked well during the night. If Pro stayed on his present course, he’d be coming to them. It was a different world than it had been when they’d pulled up for the night. Skirjanek’s message to them this morning, following his visitors, made that crystal clear. They were done waiting.

  John was bringing the rest of the Marines and a squad of Reed’s people to them; “rolling heavy,” as Skirjanek had put it. With luck, they could intercept Pro before the kid wandered into a battle. He had figured Pro was going to do something stupid, and he’d taken precautions. Ray and Skirjanek had been watching him like a hawk yesterday evening, and Pro’s “escape” hadn’t been nearly as clean or as unobserved as they’d led him to believe. He’d planned on letting him go and intercepting him before he’d enter the city, but Cooper’s messengers this morning had changed all that.

  Pavel took a knee next to him and looked at the map. “You are still thinking to take the rail tracks into the city?”

  The rail bridge would support any vehicle John and his team would be bringing, and they’d kept a close eye on the railway for the last week. Beyond an occasional foot patrol, the enemy didn’t seem to be interested in using it themselves.

  “I am,” he confirmed. “I think we should break a small team, possibly two, off on foot. Get some eyes on to direct the main strike.”

  “And the boy?”

  “He comes with us.” Jason had spent sleepless hours the night before, trying to come to terms with bringing Pro along. The alternative, short of handcuffing him inside one of the Bradleys, would be to just see him go lone wolf again.

  “I can appreciate his skills.” Pavel nodded to himself. “You are certain?”

  No, he wasn’t certain. “He’s the best scout we have.”

  “I’m uncertain about that.” Pavel’s finger dropped on the middle of the campus. “Though he may be able to walk among them without raising suspicion.”

  “Until he shoots someone.” He did his best to smile.

  An hour later, Farmer’s voice came over the radio. “I spotted him. He’s coming down the north edge of Highway 20. I’ll let him pass my position before I fall in behind. He’s on foot.”

  Fifteen minutes later, Farmer radioed back. “Following.”

  Jason picked up his own radio and switched channels. Pro was going to be pissed off, but he took more than a little enjoyment in what he was about to do.

  “Jason for Pro, over.”

  Jason looked up at Pavel who was looking at him strangely. “I hid a radio in the bottom of his pack; volume is cranked up.”

  Pavel gave a short grunt of laughter. “Hopefully, he has an extra pair of pants with him.”

  Pro lay still, frozen in surprise at the bottom of a dry ditch overgrown with weeds. Jason’s voice had nearly caused his heart to stop before he realized it was coming from his bag.

  “Jason for Pro, over. I know you can hear me.”

  “You hid a radio on me?”

  “Sorry, you aren’t as sneaky as you think you are.”

  “Doesn’t change anything,” Pro came back.

  “We are attacking tonight.” Jason was worried Pro would just toss the radio; he wanted to get the message across quick. “I want you with me for that, and be advised, you are approaching our position.”

  There was a long pause during which Jason pictured Pro having already thrown the radio away and running. “Who’s behind me?”

  Jason looked up at Pavel, who was nodding in appreciation. “That would be Farmer,” he answered, smiling to himself.

  “You’ll let me go with you?”

  “Yes.”

  “No tricks? Because you old guys aren’t as fast as I am.”

  Jason just shook his head, smiling. “No tricks. We are at the next crossroad, or you can wait for Farmer and come in together.”

  Farmer had been following the clear path of broken weeds, stepping on grass and the occasional boot print, until he wasn’t. He had stepped around a tight pair of oak trees growing out from the bank of the ditch when Pro’s trail disappeared. He froze for a moment and then looked back behind him.

  “Pro, I know you’re here.”

  “I’ve had you for the last couple of minutes.” The voice came from directly above him. He looked up to see Pro lying along a thick limb of the nearest tree. He’d just walked underneath the kid.

  “Done resting?”

  “How’d you guys know where I was?”

  “Ray radioed Jason last night. We’ve had Poy following you with the drone.”

  “That’s cheating.”

  “There’s no such thing, Pro.” He hid his embarrassment at letting the teenager get the drop on him. “You coming or not?”

  Pro’s legs swung off the branch, and he dropped to the ground after hanging by his hands for a moment.

  “Yeah, I’m coming. Jason hid a radio in my pack. He told me about tonight. Why’d he put you out to creep on me?”

  Probably because he didn’t know if you’d be smart enough to listen. “I’m wondering that myself.”

  Charlottesville

  “Did you believe him?” General Marks’s face was a full of concern. The general’s voice sounded like it wanted to crack in excitement, or maybe it was fear; Josh wasn’t sure. The look on Cooper’s face couldn’t have been more different; she’d been looking at him with unbridled suspicion since he’d walked in.

  “Yeah, I believed him,” he answered. Josh glanced at Cooper. “Maybe he was playing it up for his own guys, but he believes it—they are going to attack.”

  “But he looked sick?” Marks leaned forward across the table, desperate for the answer.

  He nodded in reply. “More than looked; he was sick. One of his guards could barely stand, eyes were bloodshot.” His mind drifted back to the die-off; it was easy to remember the symptoms. He rubbed at his own face, not having to fake the visceral reaction. “The one guard who was wobbly, you could see where he’d started bleeding under the skin, at his neck. He’ll probably be dead by tonight. We only saw nine or ten of them in total, including this colonel.”

  “Why did you go yourself?” Lisa didn’t seem to be concerned with Marks’s line of questioning.

  “Wasn’t the plan.” He shrugged. “I found somebody I trusted, but he wasn’t going to go by himself. After what we did to their messengers, no one thought driving up to them was a good idea. Erik delivere
d the message; I just drove.” He couldn’t tell if Lisa believed him or not. Maybe he was the one being paranoid now. He’d tended bar for his entire adult life; he knew people. If Lisa had been a guy with a few drinks in him, she would have looked like she was about to start swinging.

  “Skirjanek . . . I recognize the name.” General Marks seemed oblivious to the tension radiating from Cooper’s side of the table. “He was one of those shadow think-tank colonels in the Pentagon. One of those guys who would have gotten his first star a long time ago if he’d had a political bone in his body. Wrote a bunch of strategy papers and policy critiques that made a lot of people angry.”

  “Is that important?” Lisa finally stopped looking at him and focused on Marks. “I mean really! Right now?”

  Marks slammed a palm down on the conference table. “Yes! For God’s sake, it is. We have to know what we are dealing with! Who we are dealing with . . .” Marks put a hand on top of his head and let out a deep breath. “I’ve said that from the beginning. That man, well equipped as he seems to be, with two or three companies of trained soldiers, could roll over our people with ease.”

  Josh could see the finality of the decision in Lisa’s eyes, even if Marks couldn’t. He’d walked the fence between these two for too long. He had no doubt as to which side offered the best chance of survival over the next forty-eight hours. Not just his survival, but Naomi’s too. He had to get out to the hospital and warn her that their secret had a distinct shelf life. As soon as they were attacked, Cooper would know she’d been lied to. He knew the woman well enough to know Lisa would waste no time in hunting them both down.

  “General, I didn’t see any evidence of those kinds of numbers. Those I did see were sick. This Skirjanek, whoever he was in the old world, seemed desperate. ‘Pissed off’ doesn’t begin to describe his reaction when he read the message. He came very close to having us shot.” He turned and faced Lisa. “And we would have been, but he wanted you to know, in his own words—he was coming. We can beat them.”

  “And we will.” Lisa laid both of her hands on the table and offered him a smile as she stood up. It felt like a temporary reprieve. She didn’t even look at Marks. “You two, go and get our people ready. I’ll do the same. I’ll address everyone this evening at dinner. Just because he said tomorrow night, why would he wait?”