Flypaper: A Novel

by Chris Angus

  “I think we’re safe,” said the general.

  But Littlefield continued to stare at the incredible panorama of humanity stretched out in front of them. “They’re automatons. I don’t understand how anyone in that crowd could have had the wherewithal to shoot down our aircraft.”

  “They didn’t. It was probably engine failure. Still, it’s strange that . . .” General Zhou stopped in mid-sentence. “Look,” he said.

  On the hill behind them were several buildings, probably some sort of farmhouse with stone walls on all sides. They could see figures standing behind the walls, the occasional rifle barrel protruding.

  “What is it?”

  “Someone’s homestead, I’d guess. Pretty well-to-do from the looks of it. They appear to have barricaded themselves for protection.”

  Littlefield looked back at the road filled with monstrosities. They were surrounded, unable to go forward, while behind them rifles stared out from forbidding stone walls.

  “What are we going to do?” he asked.

  “Our only hope is that someone there will know who I am. Most people in this area are aware of the presence of the army. As embattled as those poor souls look up there, our offer of army protection might get them to take us in.”

  “If they don’t shoot us before we can get close enough to even talk to them.”

  “I’m open to other suggestions,” Zeli said in a tired voice.

  “Maybe . . . maybe we should stay here until the people on the road pass and then make our way back to Hohhot.”

  Zeli waved a hand at the masses on the road. They stretched as far as the eye could see. “That’s just the tip of the iceberg, Paul. All of Beijing’s twenty million people are behind that flow of humanity. It won’t end for weeks, and it’s likely to get a lot worse.”

  There were no alternatives. They approached the compound cautiously. When they were fifty yards from the building, a shot rang out and pinged off a rock next to Littlefield, making him jump.

  Zeli held up both hands and called out, “Don’t shoot. We’re unarmed. Please let us come inside. We can help you against that.” He pointed back toward the road. “I am General Zhou Zeli,” he added.

  There followed several of the longest minutes Littlefield could ever remember waiting through. He couldn’t imagine what they’d do if the occupants of the compound refused to help them. They’d be forced back toward that mindless hoard on the road, for they certainly couldn’t expect to survive out here in the middle of nowhere without supplies or water.

  Finally, a figure appeared on the wall. It focused binoculars on them and stared. Then the figure said something and the gate below was opened. A hand waved them forward.

  Once inside, though they had no idea whose hands they had fallen into, Paul felt a wave of relief wash over him. To have a wall between them and the sickness provided a feeling of safety that was palpable, if probably unrealistic.

  As soon as they passed through the wall, a heavy door swung shut behind them and both men stared at the people who gathered around them. They were all women and children. Not a man was in evidence.

  A proud-looking woman of perhaps forty with flowing black hair, strong hands and a menacing-looking semi-automatic rifle looked them up and down. “You say you are General Zhou Zeli?” she asked.

  Zeli nodded.

  The woman hauled off and slapped the commander’s face with a stinging blow. He took a step back. “You know who I am?” he asked. “Why did you do that?”

  “It is your army that has caused this to happen,” she accused. “Your soldiers forced the enlistment of every man in the region. All of our husbands were taken from us. We’ve been left alone to defend ourselves—from that.” She pointed to the road outside. “I have a mind to send you back out there to fend for yourselves.”

  “You’re here all alone?” Littlefield asked, suddenly panicked at the thought that this enticing compound might not offer the protection they’d expected.

  She stared at him. “Who are you?”

  The only thing he could think of was to fall back on what had given him strength his whole life. “I—I’m one of the richest men in the world,” he said. “I’ll pay you to help us.”

  She looked at him in disbelief. Then she broke into laughter. “How? Will you write us a check?”

  Several of the women surrounding them also laughed, but briefly. Little was funny anymore in this new world.

  “What we require,” said the fierce woman who was obviously the leader, “is the return of our men. If we help you, General, will you give us back our men?”

  Zeli stared slowly around the compound, then his gaze returned to the woman in front of him. For some reason, she reminded him of Mei-Li, who could also be fiercely independent. “You’ve done well by yourselves. I can make a few suggestions to help with your defenses. And yes, if I manage to get back to my army, I’ll return your men to help you. I give you my word on it.”

  She stared at him. “And you expect me to believe that?”

  “I no longer have need of the army. The reason for their strength, to help me take over the government, no longer exists, for there is no government. I had already begun to consider allowing those who thought they could get to their homes leave to do so.” He ran a tired hand through his hair. “There may no longer be any safe place in the country. Compounds like yours are the only havens left. We’ve virtually returned to feudal conditions.”

  The women took them inside and gave them food. There were perhaps twenty of them, along with a dozen children. These gathered around, clearly fascinated to see men again.

  “How long have you been like this?” asked Littlefield.

  “Our men were taken for the army six months ago,” said the woman who had first spoken to them. “When the roads began to fill with those—things out there, we drew back into the compound and have tried to keep from attracting their attention. It hasn’t been hard. They seem to have little will for anything but trudging along the road, going nowhere. We don’t know what’s wrong with them. We worry because two of our own have begun to exhibit symptoms.”

  Littlefield’s eyes grew wide. “You have the sickness among you?”

  She shrugged. “Who knows? They are listless and unresponsive. Those are the only symptoms so far.”

  He took Zeli aside. “We shouldn’t stay here. If the sickness is trapped inside with us, sharing their food, water, and air could be a death warrant.”

  But Zeli only looked at him with surprise and contempt. “We must stay and help them. It’s our duty as Christians. They were willing to take us in not knowing if we might have been exposed to the disease. We can do no less.”

  “I can’t stay here!” said Littlefield. “My people need me. Now more than ever. God has created this opportunity to allow my missions to expand.”

  “Opportunity?” asked Zeli softly. “You see this catastrophe as an opportunity?”

  “The—the Lord works in mysterious ways,” Littlefield said uneasily. “It’s not the first time he’s sent a pestilence to cleanse the land. But a new moral order will rise from the ashes. I have been called to lead that order.”

  Zeli shook his head. “I don’t think so, Paul. You’re just scared. Leave if you must.” He turned and walked away.

  Littlefield stood fuming and then went back outside. He stared at the road. It seemed as though the poor, sick creatures had begun to stop moving. Many were lying down, perhaps in preparation for nightfall. He walked back across the compound and slipped inside. He’d made his decision. Let the general stay if he felt that noble. He had other ideas.

  He made his way to the kitchen area, where he found a cloth sack. Quickly, he stuffed it with food and filled a plastic gallon jug with water. He was almost shaking with fear at the thought of what he was about to do. For here, at least, there seemed partial protection, but the idea of staying in close proximity to people who were sick was too much to accept. He needed to get out of the middle of this pestilence. His
only hope was to get back to Hohhot and his plane.

  He grabbed a jacket on his way out, for the late summer nights were getting cold. Then he slipped over the stone wall and crept down toward the road.

  When he was a hundred yards from the people bedded down on the ground without any sort of shelter or covering, he turned toward Hohhot. With luck, he guessed he might make it back to the city by mid-day tomorrow.

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  DIANA REACHED THE Tarim site just as dawn broke over the Taklamakan desert. It had been farther than she’d thought, but the hike along the road hadn’t been terribly difficult. She’d had to hide only twice when cars approached. She watched them from the bushes and was perplexed that neither of them was Huang. Where could he have gone? She’d been certain he would come after her, and he had to know she would head straight for the dig.

  There was no one left at the original Tarim site. Even the little Tibetan village of workers was gone. She wondered if word had somehow reached them of the terrible sickness coming their way and hoped they had made it back to their homeland.

  Already tired, she set out immediately on the two hour cross-country hike to the family group. When she arrived at last, she barged into Corkie’s tent and woke him, quickly telling him ­everything that had happened since she’d left nearly a week before. He was incredulous at first when she told him about the epidemic, then concerned, and finally frightened for everyone’s safety.

  “You say Huang is convinced that those fleeing the disease will come west?”

  “Where else can they go but into the countryside, away from the big cities?” Diana said. “That means the migration will inevitably move this way. Imagine tens of millions of people on the road, spreading disease like wildfire. It must be total anarchy already in the east.”

  Corkie was only a young graduate student, in charge for the first time in his career of a major dig and of the people working it. “What do you think we should do?” he asked.

  Diana had given it a great deal of thought during her long walk through the black night. By dawn, she’d decided Huang must have gone back to Urumqi for help. Which meant, if things had not yet completely deteriorated in the city, he could be expected to return, possibly with soldiers.

  “Huang will be back. If he finds us here without the rest of the scientists, he’ll know something’s going on. We’ve got to abandon the site and hide in the hills,” she said firmly. “There are caves, even ancient tombs we can use for shelter. We’ll move all the supplies up to one of them. We could be stuck there for a long time. If we’re lucky, maybe the epidemic will pass us by.”

  She helped Corkie explain the situation to the others. There was a good deal of grumbling. “Why would Huang come back here?” asked one worker. “If things are as bad as you say, why wouldn’t he concentrate on saving his own hide, like everyone else? If the whole of Beijing is on the move, the government must have lost control. They’re not going to be interested in us. As for hiding from the diseased masses, we’re already about as remote as we could be right here.”

  “I might agree with you,” Diana said, “if it were anyone but Huang. If he can somehow figure out what’s happening here, he’ll see it as a way to advance his career—presuming there are any careers once this is all over—and what better place to go to wait out the epidemic anyway than here?” What she didn’t provide was the main reason she felt Huang would come—to get even with her.

  It took all day to move the camp. Diana looked over her shoulder constantly for any sign of Huang’s car. Corkie oversaw the shutdown of the site, doing everything he could on short notice to prevent deterioration of the family group once it was abandoned. He suggested a cave on the other side of the ridge. It had been located by researchers doing an overview of the immediate area around the family group. The cave was well-hidden and offered, via a five-minute hike to a ledge, a good view of the dig and surrounding country below.

  By dinnertime, virtually all evidence that anyone had been at the abandoned dig was gone. Every scrap of equipment, food, and supplies had been laboriously carried up to the cave. They’d even gone to the effort of erasing their tracks around the camp and continuing up the slope by dragging brush over the dry earth. It was certainly going to mystify Huang, Diana thought. And anger him.

  A system of lookouts was posted on the ledge to watch the approaches below. Then they settled down to wait. For Diana, this was the most excruciating part, for she felt the need to do something to warn Logan and the others. In the remote Bogda Feng Mountains, deliberately trying to avoid people, their friends might not hear anything at all about the epidemic. The week she’d guaranteed them was almost up. She knew Logan would head straight for Urumqi to look for her as soon as he could, thrusting himself straight into the middle of the turmoil.

  Yet what could she do? She had nothing but the vaguest idea where they were. If only there were some way to contact them. Suddenly, she leaped to her feet. “Corkie, don’t you have a satellite phone?” she asked excitedly.

  “Yes. Marcia had a couple of them. She kept one and I have the other. We haven’t used them much. Reception’s been pretty spotty from the dig site—the ridge gets in the way, or maybe the network has had problems. Anyway, I think its power is low. We only had one solar charger, and Marcia took it with her.”

  “Still, it’s a chance. Give it to me. I’m going to try to contact Marcia. You have her number, don’t you?”

  He nodded, pulled his pack over and rummaged through it, pulling out the compact sat-phone. He also took out an address book, opened it to the number, and gave it to her.

  It couldn’t be this easy, she thought, her heart thumping with hope. And of course, it wasn’t. To begin with, Marcia would have to have her own unit turned on to receive incoming calls. Locating her in that moment would be like finding a needle in a haystack. And, of course, it was uncertain if the satellite network was still working at all.

  Again and again she tried, getting nothing but static and a roaming signature on the phone’s screen. She was almost spitting with frustration. Finally, she stood up and said to Corkie, “I’ve got to get higher.” She thrust the phone into her pocket and began to climb toward the highest point, a steep pinnacle at least five hundred feet above them.

  Her heart ached as she thought of Logan and the kiss he’d planted on her shortly before they’d separated. Somehow, she had to warn him.

  The moment Huang entered the outskirts of Urumqi, he began to have second thoughts. The city was a nightmarish scene. The first waves of refugees from the east had begun to pass through. ­Thousands of desperate people, the sick and as yet uninfected alike, looted virtually at will, searching for food, clothing, valuables, liquor, and drugs. There were no police or soldiers anywhere in evidence to resist the onslaught.

  He worked his way to the center of town and then decided to leave his car in the back of a deserted parking lot, tucked in behind a workmen’s shed. It was a difficult decision to abandon the vehicle, even for a short while, since it represented his lifeline, his only way out of the city, and it also contained his food and other items. But he figured he would be less of a target to roaming bands of desperate people if he was on foot like almost everyone else.

  As he made his way along the streets, heading for Zhong’s residence, he got his first close look at some of the disease victims. They appeared to be in all stages of the illness. Some simply looked tired and listless, roaming almost aimlessly. Others were frightening, with mad visages and gaunt bodies wasting away as the disease literally consumed them. He passed one young woman sitting alone on the street. She was filthy and dressed in rags, yet he could see that she must once have been an attractive girl. Now, she sat leaning against the wall of a building, her legs sprawled out in front of her, abandoned by her family, if she had any. Her feet were bare and covered with suppurating blisters, as were her face and hands. As he passed her, she reached up with a sort of mad laugh and pulled out a clump of her own hair. Then she fel
l forward, retching repeatedly on the ground as he stood staring at her in disgust and terror. After a moment, her body rolled over to one side and stopped moving. She was dead.

  Even without his car, Huang realized he must look like a tempting target. He was small, even for a Chinese man, well-dressed, clean, wearing a watch and wedding band. In fact, there were almost no citizens left who looked like he did. All of the city’s regular residents were either gone or else barricaded in their homes, prepared to fight off anyone who tried to break in.

  He found himself edging along the streets, his heart pounding with fear. Several times he stopped and nearly turned back to his car, the notion of getting the hell out of this pest hole almost overwhelming. For all he knew, he’d infected himself simply by being here.

  A group of perhaps twenty young men, banded together for protection, approached from down the street. They appeared to be in relatively good health, too enticed by the looting possibilities to have yet allowed their fear of the epidemic to overcome the opportunities surrounding them. One of the men threw a cement building block through the window of an electronics store and the others swarmed inside to see what they could steal. It was sheer madness. What earthly good was a new TV set or VCR going to do them in the horror that was now China? Huang took the opportunity to slip past the group and continue on, but one of the men spotted him. In an instant, they turned on him.

  He ran down the street as fast as he could, the band of marauders in hot pursuit. He darted through an alley, over a fence, through several backyards and emerged, finally, on the edge of a scrapyard. He stopped, breathing heavily, listening for his pursuers, but they’d given up. Cautiously, he continued on through the scrapyard and then down a warren of narrow streets until he reached Zhong’s more upscale neighborhood.