by Michael Bray
"Relax, Bill. It’s only an option for now. A backup. With luck, Draven will figure out a way to put a stop to this. But as you said when you came in here, we can’t rely on speculation and maybes, and we can’t just sit and get our asses kicked without responding."
"When I said we should do something, I didn’t mean we should go out there and start dropping bombs on our own cities. Think of how it will make you look."
President Carter grunted, and took a sip of his drink, noting the irony of the role reversal. He had become President Fitzgerald, and Bill had become him, thinking he knew better, thinking the job was easy. Carter had a much greater respect for the recently deceased former commander in chief. He took off his glasses and set them on the desk.
"Bill, the last thing I want to do is put people at risk. God only knows, we’ve had more than enough death and destruction this last few days. But you have to understand, we can’t just sit around here and do nothing. Our forces on the street can’t cope, we’ve lost control of our nuclear missiles and communications are down. The longer we wait the more people die and the more these assholes firm their grip on the world. All I keep thinking is that as bad as the death of thousands would be, surely it’s better than hundreds of thousands. Millions."
"Believe me, I understand your thinking," Bill said. "And for the record, I don’t envy the position you're in. But think about this. Think of the backlash. They'll have you for genocide. You'll never see daylight again. We need to give Draven at least a little time to find another option."
"When you came in here, you didn’t have so much faith in him," the President grumbled.
"Well, I didn’t know this was the alternative."
"I’m not a bad man, Bill," the President said as he finished his drink. “I’m just trying to do the right thing.”
At that moment, Bill felt incredibly sorry for his long term friend. It seemed he had aged impossibly in such a short space of time. The job was bigger than Paul Carter had anticipated.
"I know,” Bill said with a sigh. “I just don’t want you to get into something you can’t get out of."
"I think we're already there. I haven’t got the slightest idea of how to fix this, Bill. I’m clutching at straws here."
"Nobody does. This isn’t just a run of the mill situation. This is a once in a lifetime deal."
"Let’s hope this Draven guy is what we thought and he can find a way to at least give us a fighting chance."
"And what if he can’t?" Bill asked, suspecting he knew the answer.
"Then I'll do what I have to do and face the consequences."
Bill all of a sudden wanted that drink. Not so much for the words the President had said, but because of the utter conviction with which he had said them.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
THE WHITE HOUSE
WASHINGTON D.C
USA
Genaro walked towards Joshua’s office, the hallways lined with his personal guards, the eleven of his original twelve brothers, one of which had already sacrificed himself in bringing down air force one. Despite his new powers, the inner strength he could feel surging through his body, Doubt plagued him. His intention for the programme had been to help the world, to make it a safer place. Never had he expected that his work would be used for such brutal and violent purposes. Although he knew well enough it hasn’t been his choice to be a part of it, his stamp was still on it. He imagined J. Robert Oppenheimer and his Manhattan team felt much the same after their work on creating the atomic bomb resulted in the deaths of more than forty thousand people when it was dropped on Hiroshima. He wondered how many deaths had been caused as a result of his own work. How may had the apex virus killed because of its creation? Hundreds of thousands easily, he suspected it would soon be in the millions as Joshua further tightened his grip on the world. The old Genaro would have said something. He would have spoken up for what he believed in, stood his ground and refused to cooperate. That was no longer an option. Like the rest of them, he was a slave, destined to do whatever Joshua demanded no matter how he personally felt about it. For a man who possessed superior intellect to most, the power of independent thinking had been taken from him.
He reached the door to the oval office and stopped, smoothing his suit jacket and preparing his thoughts. This wasn’t a report he was looking forward to making. He took a deep breath and opened the door. Joshua was sitting at his desk, palms flat on the table, eyes closed. Genaro stared at him, a strange combination of love, hate, fear and wonder surging through him. Joshua made no effort to address him, and Genaro knew not to speak first and disturb his master. He waited, counting the seconds in his head. He had almost reached seventy when Joshua spoke, his eyes still closed.
“You have news to report to me, Doctor?”
Genaro cleared his throat. “Yes, Joshua. It’s about Richard Draven.”
“Go on,” Joshua said, still not opening his eyes.
“He isn’t in Mexico anymore. He’s gone.”
“Gone where?”
“The Government sent someone out to get him. He’s back on American soil.”
“So pick him up here.”
“We, can’t, Joshua. We don’t know where he is.”
Joshua opened his eyes, locking his cold gaze on Genaro. “You mean to tell me that the man who could pose a significant threat to us is here in our new home country, yet you can’t locate him?”
“I’m sorry Joshua. We’re working on locating him. It’s likely he’s been taken to the pentagon or one of the underground shelters located within the country.”
“Likely. Possible.” Joshua folded his hands, still not releasing Genaro from his gaze. “These are words of the old race of humanity. Words laced with excuses, with reasons not to succeed in the missions I give to you. If my own kind are using such words, then how am I expected to lead you into the new world?”
“Joshua, I-”
He exploded into action. He stood, his chair slamming back against the wall. At the same time, he tipped the oak table over, spilling its contents onto the floor. Genaro took a step back as Joshua strode around the table, stopping inches from the older man’s face. When he next spoke his words were sinister, a whisper which he knew was enough to get the point across.
“Are you telling me, Doctor Genaro, that you don’t expect to locate Richard Draven?”
Genaro stammered, unsure what the right answer was, and realising that he was utterly terrified of Joshua. “No, I mean, we will continue to search, of course, but… I don’t know how long it will take to find him.”
Joshua glared, and Genaro was sure he was about to be killed for his failure. He was still trying to think of something to say when Joshua went on.
“If Draven is as knowledgeable as you say, and might be able to help those who would oppose us, then I think the solution is obvious.” He turned away from Genaro, skirting around the debris from his turned over table. He walked to the window and stared out at the desolate skyline.
“What kind of solution?” Genaro asked, able to relax now he wasn’t being so closely scrutinised.
“A contingency plan. Something to give us leverage if we should need it.”
“What did you have in mind?”
Joshua didn’t speak at first. He was watching a curling line of black smoke billowing into the air from somewhere in the distance. “If you can’t find the man who would oppose us, then bring me those he holds dear.”
“Joshua….”
He turned from the window, training his gaze on Genaro. “If you can’t find him, then I want his family.”
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Draven, Kate & Herman
Basement Lab
The Pentagon
USA
After seven straight hours in the lab, Draven was aware of two things. First, he was exhausted. Second, he wasn’t getting any further in finding out anything new. He looked away from the reams of papers spread in front of him and rubbed his eyes. Kate was adding skin samples to
slides for Draven to view under the microscope. Herman was wheeling himself around the room, using his feet to keep the chair in motion as he scribbled away in a notebook. Sensing Draven's eyes on him, He looked up from his scrawling.
"You okay there, man?"
"I’m fine," Draven replied, unable to quite hide a smile. "You having fun?"
"I’m as happy as hell. Have you any idea what my buddies online will think about this when I tell them? Secret underground levels to the Pentagon. Mind blowing stuff."
"You might want to keep that to yourself," Kate said without looking up. "We have alien technology to make you forget."
Herman stopped rolling. "You shitting me?"
"Absolutely not," Kate said, turning towards Herman, a quick flick of the eyes towards Draven saying otherwise. "We have probes. Anal probes."
"Anal?" Herman repeated.
"Oh yeah," Kate said, somehow keeping her face straight. "Barbed, with an end the size of a man's fist. We don’t know how it works, just that we shove it up there and just like that. Memory wiped."
Herman cleared his throat. "My contacts, you know, from up there, they never mentioned probes."
"Did you ever ask?" Kate said.
"Well no, but..."
"Maybe you did and you just forgot. Maybe you already got probed."
“You think so?”
“Oh yeah, it sounds like they didn’t want you to know too much.”
“What about you, man? Do you think she’s right?” Herman said.
Draven wanted to play along, but couldn’t keep a straight face any longer. He grinned, which in turn made Kate laugh.
"That’s not fair," Herman said, “I believed you."
"Sorry, I couldn’t help myself. Seems like a long time since I last laughed," she said.
"I think we all needed that," Draven said. "It's been so damn tense since you came out to Mexico to find me. It's one thing after another."
"How is it coming along?" she asked.
"The research?"
"Yeah."
"Not great, to be honest. I’m struggling. It's like I know what I’m looking for but just can’t seem to see it."
"Take a break, walk around. Give your mind a chance to rest."
"I don’t have time for that. We need a breakthrough."
"Surely there must be something. Nothing in nature is without weakness," Kate said, a frown crossing her brow.
"That's the problem. This isn’t nature. It was made in a lab. It follows its own rules. Someone designed this thing. It’s like trying to learn a brand new language from scratch."
"I always remember when Doc Genaro had days like this," Herman said as he started to spin around in slow circles on the office chair. "Mostly early on before he made the breakthrough with Joshua. You should have seen his face when he got it to work. He said he was glad it was Joshua as he always liked him."
“Say that again?" Draven said.
"Doc Genaro," Herman repeated. "He always said he was glad he made the breakthrough with Joshua as he always liked him."
"Herman, this is very important." Draven went on, "did Doctor Genaro specifically refer to Joshua by name."
"Uh, no he didn’t."
"What did he refer to him as?"
Herman screwed up his face in concentration, eyes rolled to the roof as he sifted through his oddly organised brain. "He called him Subject B."
Draven spun in his chair and started to leaf through the documents spread across the desk. "I can’t believe I missed this," he muttered as Kate stood at his shoulder.
"What is it?" she asked.
"All this paperwork, these reports and everything else here is useless."
"Why?"
Because they don't relate to Joshua."
"That's impossible."
"No, it isn’t. For once, I have to agree with Herman and say that the government is keeping a big secret here."
"What kind of secret?" She asked.
"Joshua was the second test subject. There was another before him, someone who was the basis for the human trials that started with Joshua. We need to find out who and where he is right now."
"We need to tell Bill Watson about this," Kate said, standing and heading for the lab door.
"No, not him," Draven said. “I need to speak to the President."
II
Five minutes later, instead of relaying his information to the President, Draven was standing in the hall outside his office, sheets of reports and papers tucked under his arms as Bill Watson said the same thing for the fifth time.
"Mr. Draven, please. Tell me what you need and I'll make sure the President hears the request. He’s incredibly busy right now as you can imagine."
"That’s not good enough. You're wasting time. He asked for a breakthrough and I have it."
"I was put in charge of this project, Richard. I'm just trying to help."
Bill using Draven’s first name didn’t fit. It was uncomfortable, like a pair of cheap new shoes. Worse was the half mocking, half empathetic smile on his face. Draven took a deep breath and decided to give Bill just a little snippet, just to let him see the urgency.
"Look, you don’t understand the situation. Besides, I remember the President putting me in charge of this project."
"Then tell me," Bill snapped. "If it's as bad as you say, then wasting time arguing in the hallway won’t help anyone."
"Okay, fine," Draven said, further developing his growing dislike for the man. "Who was Subject A?"
Bill looked blankly at Draven. "I have no idea what you mean."
"Before Genaro managed to perfect the Apex virus, there was another subject. The one who came first, the basis for the human trials. The notes and paperwork that we have relate to him, not to Joshua like we assumed. I need to know who he was, where he is. He could be the key to this thing."
"How do you know this?"
"Something Herman said made me realise our mistake. If you don’t let me speak to the President now to find out who Subject One was, then this whole thing is a waste of time. Now are you going to ask him or am I?"
"Okay, you win. I'll see if he's free." Draven watched as Bill disappeared into the President’s office and closed the door. Half a minute later, he returned, poking his plus sized head around the edge of the door. "Come on in."
Draven took a deep breath and followed Bill into the office.
III
"I have no idea," President Carter said after Draven explained the problem.
"With all due respect sir, somebody must know about this."
"I’m sure they do, it's just not me. As you know, my reasons for taking over the presidency were rushed, to say the least. I was only briefed on this ongoing situation. Other projects overseen by my predecessor are as much a mystery to me as they are to you."
"Of course, I understand, sir," Draven said. “Is there any way we could find out? I assume all of President Fitzgerald’s staff are still here?”
“Yes, they are. The ones who didn’t board Air Force One anyway.”
“Is there anyone among them who might have a clue? Anything at all will help, sir.”
The President considered for a moment, then turned to Watson. "Bill, who was that man who was working on this? The guy in charge of data analysis for Genaro? I read about him in the briefing report."
"Johnson, sir?"
"No, not him. The other guy. Tall, red hair."
"Martin Hughes?"
"Yes, him. Is he here in the Pentagon?"
"Yes, sir. He's been working a desk job here for the last couple of years. He’s up in administration."
"Bring him in here will you? He was involved in this thing at the start. He might know something."
There were no arguments this time. No cocky smiles or trying to build rapport by using the President’s first name. This time, Bill Watson did as he was told and hauled ass, striding out of the office to find the desk jockey who could yet be vital to the success of the operation.
&n
bsp; "Do you think you can stop this virus, Mr. Draven?" the President asked, eyes cold and confident.
"I'll do my best sir. This is a complex and unique situation. I wouldn’t want to suggest anything until I have more information. Everything here is completely reactive."
"Sometimes, the secrecy of projects like this can make following the breadcrumbs difficult. I understand that, Mr. Draven."
Draven was spared from having to fumble around for an answer by Bill striding back into the office with, who Draven assumed, was the mysterious Hughes. The President’s description of tall, red hair, was accurate. Hughes stood around six five and was stick thin and pale. His hair was orange - not something he would be able to pass off as strawberry blonde - and his eyes blue and wide, although Draven assumed that could be due to being hauled in front of the President with no notice.
"Come on in," the President said, gesturing to one of the vacant seats on the opposite side of his desk.
The red headed desk worker obliged, firing a mistrustful look at Draven as he took his seat.
"How can I help you, Mr. President?"
"Martin, Mr. Draven here has a few questions. Please answer them as fully as possible. Withhold nothing."
"I'm not sure I know what this is about, sir," Martin said, flicking another glance towards Draven.
"You worked with Dr. Genaro on the Apex project," Draven said.
"For a while,” Martin said with a nod. “Doctor Genaro and I didn't see eye to eye, so they moved me on before things got going."
"That's the time I’m interested in. Who was Subject A?"
Martin's Adam’s apple bobbed as he looked from the President to Draven.
“You can answer Martin. Full disclosure.”
"Yes sir,” Martin said, then frowned and swallowed. “I’m sorry but I don’t understand what you’re asking, isn’t Subject A the cause of everything that has happened so far?"
"No. We thought so too, however it seems the one we're dealing with now, Joshua, is Subject B. As you can imagine, this makes finding Subject A vitally important."