Plaguesville, USA

by Jim LaVigne

  “Emperor?” said the other. “Never heard of him. Who is he?”

  “Not so sure about that,” said the Hunter. “I mean, he calls himself Emperor Johnson, king of this, lord of that. What I do know is what he is, and that’s nothin’ more or less than a fuckin’ lunatic. Straight-up batshit sadistic, psychotic crazy.”

  CJ gave a pained groan and then an acidic laugh. “Oh, man! That is really fuckin’ good, you know? Maravilloso! I come from one loco motherfucker in charge, right into another one! Is everybody in charge insane? Is that how it works? Dios mio, this is a fucked-up world, amigo!”

  The Hunter sat up. “You mean the Governor, right? That who you mean?”

  “Yeah, who else?”

  “An’ you’re sayin’ he’s crazy?”

  “Kind of a relative term, these days, ain’t it?” said CJ. The Hunter could hear him shift position. “But yeah, I think it’s safe to say that the Governor is one loco, power-drunk kinda fucker. Shit, you should hear one’a his speeches, the ones in the last month or two. I mean, he sounds kinda reasonable, he ain’t screamin’ or mumblin’ or nothing, but what he says? Like everything’s just fine an’ there’s nothin’ to worry about and how New America’s better than ever, like, jus’ totally outta touch, you know? I mean, I ain’t no head-shrinker. I can’t say what’s crazy an’ what’s not. But, ask me, this dude is one beer short of a six-pack. An’ that don’t even take into account all the shit people say about him! How he’s a maricon boy-fucker, a drug fiend, how he lives like some kinda king, all walled up in his mansion with all them PF goons all over. Shit, don’t even get me started on those pendejo bastards!

  “Who, the Police Force?” said the Hunter. “Why, what’s the trouble with them?”

  “Fuckin’ thugs, man,” said CJ angrily. “Like them old-time fuckers, them Nazis, comprende? Grab anybody they want, no reason, and take ‘em off to the cells. An’ you don’ wanna know what goes on there! Rape, torture… an’ nobody ever comes out. Never.”

  “And these are the Governor’s men?” asked the Hunter. “His personal goons?”

  “More or less,” CJ said. “I mean, they’re supposed to be the police, you know? Like Before, they’re supposed to catch thieves and shit. But now? Fuck, now all they do is make anyone the Governor don’t like just go away. Word has it, they dump the bodies in the big burner down at the algae plant.”

  “No shit?”

  “No shit, amigo. These are bad men. Only one of ‘em I ever thought was worth a damn was the Deputy Chief, this big dude named Lumler. He was OK. But even he’s gone now. Say he was killed in a fight with Reformists, but I dunno for sure. Anyway, with Lumler gone, means the Chief himself is totally in charge. And, wouldn’t you know it, the Chief is as loco as any of ‘em. Like I said, man—everybody in charge is fuckin’ crazy!”

  “What’s wrong with the Chief?”

  “Pain freak,” said CJ baldly. “Jus’ like this Emperor pendejo of yours, I guess. Gets off on hurting people, you know? Does all the torture, personal-like, word has it. I never met the dude, but I heard all kindsa stories from guys who did, an’ every last one of ‘em said the same thing: dude is bad fuckin’ news.”

  The Hunter sat silent for a while, thinking. This was news to him; the last time he’d met the Governor, the man had seemed as sane as anyone. Prissy and fat and annoying, yes, but nonetheless sane. The same went for the Police Chief, whom he’d met twice before leaving New America. He was maybe a bit intense, sort of nervous and twitchy, but not obviously crazy by any means. So what had happened? Had the stress of events pushed the leaders of NA over the edge? Or had they been loonies all along? It made him wonder. Finally the Hunter shook off these musings when CJ broke the silence.

  “How about others?” he asked. “You seen anybody else down here? Anybody normal, I mean.”

  “Just the guy,” said the Hunter. “This Emperor freak. But before you showed up, there was an old man and a woman in the next cell. Don’t know what happened to ‘em, but I ain’t heard from ‘em lately, so who knows? Other than that? Nobody.”

  “Shit,” CJ said, “I was kinda hopin’ there were more, you know? More Army prisoners, that is.”

  “What? Why?”

  “Cause of all the guys that went missing. See, just about every time we had a big fight with these freaks, somebody would get wounded, left behind, separated from his unit, and just kinda disappear, you know? We figured the deformos grabbed ‘em, took ‘em prisoner. But I guess not, eh?”

  The Hunter said nothing. Likely as not, CJ’s comrades had been butchered and eaten by the monsters. No point in telling the poor man that, of course; he’d put two and two together easily enough. Finally, though, he felt something like pity and spoke up.

  “Never know,” he said, trying to sound confident. “Maybe there are others. These mines seem like they go on forever, so…” he trailed off.

  “Yeah, mebbe,” said CJ wanly. He seemed about to go on when there came a clamor from outside their cell/cave and then the door was opened. A flickering, dirty sort of light gleamed from without and then, sending a shiver down the Hunter’s spine, came the high-toned cackle of the madman who called himself the Emperor:

  “Come out, come out!” he warbled. “You wouldn’t want to miss the party, would you?”

  The Hunter looked at CJ, who seemed as puzzled as the Hunter felt.

  “Party?” mouthed CJ. “Is this pendejo fuckin’ kidding?”

  The Hunter groaned and shook his head. “Don’t think so,” he said. “Now come on, let’s go see what this ding-dong is up to. Tell ya right now, though, I got a pretty good idea we ain’t gonna like it.”

  Chapter Forty-Eight

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  As a human being and a survivor, Justin was disgusted, appalled, and deeply confused, but as a doctor and an epidemiologist, he was absolutely fascinated. What were these creatures and how had they come to be here? What had caused their astonishing physical deformities and how had they remained unknown to medical science? And why were they down here, in some deserted mineshaft in the middle of nowhere? Plus, there were so many of them! Dozens, at least, from what he’d seen, maybe hundreds. Things being what they were, though, he had very little time for speculation.

  In the end they had not put up a struggle when the host of misshapen beings had come for them. Trapped, unable to go forward or back and outnumbered, even Teresa had seen the wisdom of surrender. Or maybe she was simply afraid. When she’d handed over her shotgun, her hand had shaken like a leaf, and Justin couldn’t blame her. Like horrible caricatures of human beings, all distended limbs and pasty, bumpy, malformed flesh, the creatures didn’t exactly inspire endearment, not to mention they reeked to high heaven.

  The only one of them not taken prisoner had been the Kid. Like the wary animal he was, he had, despite the narrow confines of the tunnel, simply vanished; one minute he’d been at Teresa’s side, the next he was just plain gone. Where he was at the moment was anyone’s guess.

  Once relieved of their weapons, they’d been led by their captors (and Bowler, who skulked along in the back) to their present location, a damp, smelly cave of some kind, apparently deep in the earth and connected, as promised, to a whole network of tunnels and caverns. Here, despite efforts by Justin to talk to them, the creatures had simply shoved them in and locked a thick metal door behind. Now, maybe an hour after their capture, he, Teresa, and Erin sat in the pitch darkness and, in desperate whispers, talked it over.

  “What are these people?” asked Erin, voicing Justin’s foremost question. “I mean, is this some side-effect from the plague or some kind of radiation poisoning or what? Doctor?”

  “I don’t know,” said Justin honestly. “That is, there are a few medi
cal precedents, at least in extreme cases, for such deformities. Things like Marfan Syndrome and Loeys-Dietz, examples of Multiple Endocrine Neoplasia, but to this extent? I just don’t know.”

  “What all that ploop?” asked Teresa, fidgeting. “Some other kinda Sick?”

  “Yes, in a manner of speaking,” said Justin. “But unfortunately I have many more questions than answers. These… people, their condition, and in such numbers, are absolutely unprecedented.”

  “Hey, great,” moaned Erin. “So we don’t even know what they are, let alone who!”

  “Can ya catch it?” demanded Teresa. “Like the Sick? Cause I don’ wanna end up lookin’ like these greeps! Blech!”

  “No, no,” said Justin. “It’s nothing like that. This is some kind of genetic mutation, unless I miss my guess. But how could it have become so extensive, and without anyone knowing about it? And why here, specifically? I have to say, it’s intriguing.”

  “Intriguing?” hissed Erin bitterly. “Here we are, locked up in some stinking, God-forsaken hole by a bunch of freaks and you call it intriguing? Jesus, Doc!”

  “Yes, well,” said Justin brusquely. “I suppose you might call it professional curiosity. But the real issue here is not these unfortunate people or their strange affliction. Don’t forget, we’re here to find Mr. Lampert.”

  “What, locked in here?” said Erin. “How are we supposed to do that? And anyway, how do we know he’s even here? Bowler lied about everything else. Why not about that, too?”

  “Enh, that fuckin’ rat,” snarled Teresa. “Shoulda blaster-ated him good!”

  “Maybe so,” said Justin. “But that’s beside the point. And as far as Lampert really being down here, well, I don’t know what to say. Maybe you’re right. Maybe the Old Man is a hundred miles from here. Or even dead. But we still have to make sure.”

  “I suppose,” said Erin miserably. “But I dunno, Doctor. I think maybe we’ve finally run out of luck, you know?”

  “Could be,” Justin said. “But then again, I’ve had that very thought about a dozen times since we left New Atlanta, so who knows? We’re not dead yet.”

  “At’s true,” said Teresa. “An’ if these mutie freakers wanted us dead, we be worm chow by now. Naw, they savin’ us for somethin’.”

  “Like what?” Justin hesitantly asked.

  “Who know?” Teresa replied. “Make us work, mebbe, slave-wise. Sell us to someone else? Course, they might just be cannibos. Mebbe they savin’ us to eat, like later on.”

  “I hadn’t thought of that,” said Justin, a new sinking feeling in his gut. “And I suppose you’re right, but that remains to be seen. For the present, I fear there’s little we can do but wait.”

  “Grrr,” said Teresa. “I hate waitin’.”

  It was only about an hour before their cell door was opened and a familiar figure, that of Barbara Cass, was shoved into their midst. There was a glimpse of malformed limbs and a lumpy head in the tunnel outside and then the door slammed shut again and they were back in the dark. Justin went straight to Cass, who had seemed well enough at first glance, if flustered, and gently touched her arm.

  “Barb?” he said softly. “Are you alright? Are you hurt?”

  Cass gave a sort of shuddering sigh. “I guess so,” she said, not sounding all that sure about it. “I mean, I’m not injured or anything. But good Lord, Doctor Kaes, these people! I mean, Jesus, have you seen them?”

  “Yes, we have,” said Justin. “And they are rather disturbing in appearance. But Barb, I have to know, what about Mr. Lampert?”

  “Oh, he’s here,” said the nurse. “Somewhere. They grabbed us both, after we got the better of that little psycho guy who killed Cornell.”

  “But the Old Man is here, in these tunnels?”

  “Far as I know,” said Cass. “Last I saw him, he was having a little chat with the Emperor.”

  “He… what?” said Justin, shaking his head. “Wait, I think you’d better back up. What happened? After we were tranquilized, that is.”

  Cass sighed again and sat down heavily on the wet floor. “Well, we tricked him,” she said finally. “To make a long story short, Lampert caused a distraction and I shot him up with enough synthorazine to put down an elephant. So we were free. We were going to take the car and come find you, but then these… people showed up and, well, there were so many of ‘em, and they were just so weird looking and all, and, well, we had to give up. They took us down into these tunnels, stuck us in a cave, and…”

  “And?” prodded Justin. “What then? Where is Lampert?”

  “Well, here’s the thing, Doctor Kaes,” said Cass. “These things have a leader. A human leader. This man who calls himself Emperor Johnson. And Emperor Johnson? Well, let’s just say that he’s not exactly playing with a full deck. In fact, though I’m no expert, I’d have to say that he’s violently insane.”

  “Oh, wonderful,” moaned Erin. “Just great.”

  “But what about Lampert?” Justin persisted. “You say he was chatting with this Johnson person, but is he alright? How is his health?”

  Cass shook her head sadly. “Not that good, I’m afraid. It’s these horrible damp caves, the food and water they give us. I tried my best to keep him warm and dry, but, well, he has a bad cough. Maybe early stages of pneumonia. If we don’t get him out of here, it won’t be good.”

  Justin nodded grimly, worried. “Yes, of course, but how to do that? What about this Emperor fellow? Why do you say he’s insane? Can’t we reason with him?”

  “Maybe, but I doubt it,” Cass said. “This guy is pretty out there. Wears this whole costume, all dressed up like an old-time king, you know? And he’s… I don’t know, like a child or something. Like brain damaged or just totally bonkers. No grasp of reality. You know what he calls this place? This stinking shit-hole? The Exalted Realm of Below! No, I wouldn’t count on reasoning with him.”

  “Damn,” said Justin, thinking furiously. “That doesn’t sound very promising. But why is he the leader of these others? Doesn’t he have the same deformities?”

  “No,” said Cass. “Physically speaking, anyway, he’s normal. No lumps or freaky long arms or tentacles or anything. Mentally speaking? Well, that’s another issue.”

  “He say what he want?” asked Teresa. “What he gonna do with us, mebbe?”

  “No, not exactly,” said Cass. She looked at the younger woman for a long moment and then cocked her head quizzically. “But what are you doing here? I thought you were back at Baron Zero’s House. And how did you all come to be here, anyway?”

  Erin filled the nurse in on their latest misadventures, but Justin sat back, massaged his temples, and tried to think. He’d had all kinds of experience with madmen in the course of their travels, from simple homicidal maniacs to complex paranoid psychotics, and knew that there was usually a way—generally a specific, unique way—of dealing with them. One had to identify and then appeal to whatever it was they were fixated on; humor them, give them what they wanted, and then, if possible, beat a hasty retreat. More or less talk one’s way to freedom. And with any luck the same strategy would apply here.

  What worried him more was Cass’s description of Lampert’s health. If she was right and the Old Man was coming down with pneumonia, the end would not be far off. He knew Lampert’s ancient body wouldn’t be able to fight it for more than a day or two. Frustrated, he shook his head, gave a feeling sigh, and turned back to Cass, who had now been brought up to speed.

  “What about others?” he asked. “Besides this Emperor person, that is.”

  Cass nodded. “Yeah,” she said. “There are others here like us. Matter of fact, the guy himself is here, the one who tranq’ed you and stole Mr. Lampert and the car. Or, at least he was.”

  “Really?” said Erin. “They got him, too, huh? Where is he?”

  “Dunno,” said Cass. “They moved us, after the first day. I get the feeling he’s not the only one, either. There are a lot of these caves down here, cells like
this one, and I’m pretty sure, judging from the noise, that a lot of ‘em are occupied. God only knows by who or what.”

  “Interesting,” said Justin. “And this Emperor man said nothing about his intentions? You have no idea what he’s up to?”

  “Not a clue,” said Cass. “I mean, this guy is nuts, OK? Who knows what he’s doing or why? There was one weird thing, though…”

  “Yes?” prodded Justin.

  “Oh, just that there was this big room, this big cave, you know? They brought me through it on the way here. And damned if it wasn’t all decorated and set up like they were gonna have a party! Streamers, balloons, tables and chairs all set up… damndest thing I ever saw.”

  “A party?” said Erin. “Down here? What are they celebrating, Ground Hog Day?”

  No one laughed. Justin frowned and scratched his chin. “That is strange,” he said. “But then, like you say, who knows what this man’s particular problem could be? I think our best bet is to wait and see what he wants.”

  Everyone nodded and fell quiet. Justin noticed that Teresa no longer complained about waiting.

  Chapter Forty-Nine

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