Flypaper: A Novel

by Chris Angus

  That much, at least, was certain. A stream of diseased migrants was coming their way. Alford ran into the house, shouting for Sarah and Amelia. They came running out with nothing but the clothes on their backs. Alford had his pistol, at least, and Amelia held a book in her hand.

  Elwood led the way down to the boat. Before they could reach the canoe, some of the sick people entered the house as others began moving toward the river. Alford stopped to aim his pistol and shot one of the men who appeared to have the most stamina and was coming the fastest.

  “Get aboard,” said Elwood. “Sarah, you sit in the middle with Amelia between your legs on the bottom. Alford, you take the front.”

  Once they were all aboard, Elwood pushed off just a few yards ahead of the bizarre caricatures of people coming after them.

  Alford took aim at another, but Elwood said, “Nah, don’t shoot ’em any more. They’re not responsible for what they’re doin’. ’Sides, they can’t follow us on the river.”

  It was true. As soon as they were away from shore, their pursuers lost interest in them and slowly began to limp back toward the road.

  “They’re like zombies,” said Alford. “They’ll come for you if they can. Otherwise they simply trudge along the roads. Just mindless.”

  Elwood nodded, concentrating on controlling their craft. It was harder paddling upstream, and it took twice as long as the trip down to get back to where he kept his boat hidden. No one said anything. They were all a little stunned at what had just happened.

  They beached the boat and Alford and Elwood hauled it well into the woods. Maybe they’d need it again someday. Then they began the tough climb to Elwood’s cabin, where they collapsed inside.

  Sarah took Amelia up into the tiny loft, where Elwood had prepared a place for them to sleep. Then the two men sat and stared at each other.

  “Thanks, Elwood,” said Alford. “Looks like you saved us from that awful place.”

  “I’m jest glad I came in time. Been listenin’ to the radio. Sounded like things were pretty bad.”

  “You have no idea. Two days after you and I went for supplies, we had a wave of people pass through from the cities. They were still healthy, but they were as dangerous as the sick—and desperate to get away from what was coming behind them. Most had guns and they stole anything they could find, broke into stores and homes. Some women were raped. It was like there was no law at all anymore. I began to get scared then. Couldn’t decide what to do. It would have been madness to go on the road, so we just sort of hunkered down and tried to pretend no one was in the house.”

  “Well, I think we’re safe here,” said Elwood. “None of those poor souls’re gonna climb two miles up into these here woods. There’s no trails at all that lead to my place. If they’re stayin’ on the roads like you said, then we should be all right.”

  “But how long can we hold out?”

  “Always sorta planned to live out my days up here, Alford. No reason we can’t still do that. Might be a bit of a long haul for little Amelia. But . . . I can’t believe this won’t pass eventually. If nothin’ else, those poor sick people will simply all die.”

  “We might be sick, too,” Alford said.

  “If that’s what’s written, there’s nothin’ we can do about it. But if we escaped it, then we got enough food, water, and ammunition to stay up here forever. Leastways, for a long, long time.”

  Alford stared at his friend sadly. “I like people, Elwood. Never wanted to be a recluse like you. I’m like to go crazy all alone up here after a while.”

  “Well, better that sorta crazy than the kind down there.” He motioned toward the outside. “I think it’s gonna be a while before you see another Yankees game, though.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

  LOGAN HURRIED THROUGH the courtyard, now lit with torches hung at intervals by the monks. Outside the walls, explosions rent the approaches to the monastery.

  Gaoming was beside him, rifle in hand, matching him stride for stride. “Only one of our outlying sentries made it back to report,” he said. “The others were killed. The enemy evidently hoped to achieve surprise and very nearly got it. Fortunately, the men you positioned on the hill were using periodic flares to search the approaches and spotted them. They let loose with the grenade launchers. That slowed them down.”

  They reached the small tower that stood next to the main gate and quickly climbed to the top. From here they had a panoramic view of the steeply terraced fields surrounding the monastery.

  Logan gasped at the sight laid out before them, illuminated in freeze-frame stop-action by the flashes of the explosions. Hundreds of men were moving across the landscape. A few were armed with small-caliber handguns. But the most immediate danger was clearly not from their weapons.

  Many of the men staggered forward, dropped to the ground, got back up again, and slowly lurched ahead. The steep terrain and seemingly endless rock walls constructed by the monks over many centuries were slowing them down. But that was the least of the defenders’ worries. The closest figures were now only fifty feet away and even in the flickering, periodic light, Logan could see faces and hands covered with sores and blood seeping from noses and eyes. It was an army of the dying, the most frightful sight he’d ever witnessed in his years of battle experience.

  He turned at once to the walls below and shouted to the soldiers and civilians lining them to open fire. The withering arsenal of bullets from AK-47s and Kalashnikovs, mixed with occasional grenades, mowed down the poor devils. But their numbers seemed endless. For each one they killed, more appeared to take their place. The bodies began to pile up in a line just a dozen yards from the walls.

  Gaoming fired his own weapon repeatedly. “There’s no end to them!” he cried. “Do you see? They’re all sick. If any breach the walls, we’ll be infected for sure.”

  Two rocket launchers fired simultaneously. The shells screamed over their heads, the blasts illuminating the night sky. In the flickering light, Logan saw several men standing atop a rise a hundred yards away, evidently commanding the attack.

  “Did you see those men on the hill?”

  Gaoming nodded. Even in their brief glimpse, the men had seemed calmer and more rational than the others.

  “Hard to understand how anyone could control that mob,” said Logan. “Perhaps they’re not as far advanced in the sickness and that makes them immune to attack from the others. The sickest may be suggestible to control.” He stared out at the hilltop as another rocket lit the night. “I’m going to try to take them out. Maybe if we cut the head off this Hydra, the rest of them will be too sick and delusional to continue the attack.”

  “I’ll go with you,” Gaoming said.

  “No. You need to stay here and command the garrison. We can’t both afford to leave. You and I are the only seasoned fighters we have.” He looked down into the courtyard. “You need to establish a second line of defense—over there—by the inner wall around the monastery garden—and form a final stronghold, a redoubt, in the event the outer wall is overwhelmed. We have greater firepower. Even with their larger numbers, we should be able to hold them off.”

  “Off . . . maybe,” said Gaoming. “But not out. Some are bound to get close enough to pass the illness. Maybe they already have.”

  “We can’t worry about that now. The first order of business is for you to set up the defense and for me to try to get the leaders.”

  Gaoming nodded, took Logan’s hand tightly and shook it once, then turned and descended to the courtyard.

  Diana stood in the window of Xuemin’s office and fired at the oncoming flood of attackers. Leeanne stood at another window doing the same. Marcia was also in the room, continuing to pore over the inscriptions on the oval, seemingly oblivious to the march of events outside.

  “For God’s sake, Marcia,” Leeanne cried. “Get a gun and come help us.”

  Kessler waved a hand. “Never could hit the side of a barn with one of those. I’ll do more good if I can figure
this thing out.”

  Leeanne snorted in exasperation and turned back to the window. She aimed carefully and shot a stumbling figure that was about to make it over the last obstacle before reaching the monastery’s outer wall.

  Diana suddenly called out in alarm and Leeanne turned, thinking she’d been hit. But instead she saw Diana with her weapon down, her head halfway out the window staring at the scene below.

  “That’s Logan!” she yelled. “What the hell does he think he’s doing?”

  In the flickering light of torches and blasting grenades, Leeanne saw the familiar large form outside the walls, crouching over and running along one of the rock ledges away from the protection of the monastery.

  “Damned if I know,” Leeanne said. “But let’s give him some covering fire.”

  Together they shot and killed three enemy men who appeared to be lining Logan up in their sights. It was miraculous shooting, driven by desperation. After a few more moments, he passed out of their line of sight and there was nothing more they could do.

  Suddenly, there was a commotion behind them and they turned to see Xuemin and half a dozen of the monks burst into the room. Without a word, the men crossed to the surprised women and tore their weapons out of their hands.

  “What the hell . . . ?” asked Leeanne. “Diana, what are they doing?”

  But in a moment, it was clear, as Xuemin went over to where Marcia sat at his desk. He directed one of the monks to pick up the strange object. Careful to avoid the stinging cold, the man used a stick to push the oval into a cloth bag. He tied a knot in the end and then they rushed out of the room, leaving the three women staring in disbelief.

  “What was that about?” asked Diana.

  “I haven’t a damn clue,” said Marcia. “But I’m not giving it up that easily. Come on. We’ve got to follow them. Where the hell can they go? The monastery’s surrounded.”

  Weaponless, they pushed through the door and down the steps to the courtyard. There was chaos all around them. Huge blasts reverberated from the rocket launchers and shots ricocheted off the stone walls, while Gaoming’s men rushed from one side of the compound to the other, wherever the threat seemed greatest. Diana saw Gaoming himself organizing at least twenty men into a firing line near the monastery garden. They were piling up anything they could get their hands on—carts from the garden, bales of straw, even one of the large clay ovens used to bake bread—to form a barricade. Yä Ling was beside him, holding a rifle like she knew how to use it, prepared to blast anyone who tried to shoot Gaoming.

  “There!” Diana shouted, pointing across the compound. “There they go.”

  Leeanne glimpsed the old monk and his followers as they disappeared into the stone building where she and the others had been housed on their first arrival. “What the hell are they up to? It looks like they’re returning the damn thing to where we first found it.”

  Diana shook her head in dismay. “Maybe they’ve had some sort of Buddhist epiphany, ordering them to put it back. Hell, I don’t know. But let’s keep after them.”

  Leeanne looked around the compound once more, searching for Alan. She saw him for a moment on one of the towers. He was directing a group of the students in the attack. Then she turned and raced after Diana.

  Logan felt rather than saw the effects of the shots that had protected him. He didn’t know where they’d come from. Twice he’d seen men who’d been too close for comfort fall. But there was no time to ponder the mystery.

  He was on the enemy side of the walls now. He had to avoid not just being shot, but also being in any way grabbed or wrestled down by the attackers. Any such close contact could be the equivalent of a bullet straight through the heart. He’d be as good as dead, even though it might take weeks for the disease to work its damage.

  He shot a figure that loomed up in front of him, avoided the falling body and pushed on. He kept low, running along the fence line that seemed to offer the best hope of bringing him close to where the enemy leaders had been. It was hard to keep his sense of direction in the dark with dirt and debris from the rocket launchers raining down on him. Twice he took a chance and climbed up on the wall long enough to gaze fixedly at the little rise until a blast briefly illuminated the crazed scene. Then he was down and running again.

  He shot several more of the attackers. Their eyes were filled with insanity. Most of the poor souls were so far gone they seemed to represent little real threat, other than the big one, of infecting him. Whoever was in charge of this ragtag army was somehow ruling an all but mindless horde of madmen. He wondered what sort of men could be in charge of such a brigade.

  He threw himself behind yet another stone wall and paused, breathing heavily. He gauged that this wall would lead him very close to the men on the hill. He could get within a dozen feet of them before he’d need to expose himself further. He was behind the first line of attackers now, and the way ahead was almost free of opposition. He crawled and wormed his way ever closer.

  Finally, certain the men were just beyond his wall, he checked his rifle and then stood up.

  The men standing a few feet away stared at him in disbelief, as if he were some apparition rising from the smoke-filled valley floor. But Logan found himself equally surprised and unable to fire his weapon. Facing him were four men, all wearing the gray robes of the monastery. They were monks!

  His face a mask of incomprehension, Logan moved closer. He thought he recognized one of them.

  “Would you be kind enough to tell me what the hell you’re doing?” he shouted. “Unless I’m mistaken, that’s your monastery you’re attacking down there. Why are you interfering?”

  Three of the monks looked to the tallest of them. Li-Wen’s fierce eyes burned with an anger aimed directly at Logan.

  “You are the one who has interfered,” he said.

  Logan looked at him with puzzled eyes. “Interfered with what?” he asked with genuine curiosity.

  “We are the only brothers to have resisted Xuemin’s mad search for what should have remained a mystery. The object you found must be returned to its place and walled up at once. Then . . . maybe . . . if it’s not too late . . . all this may cease.”

  Logan stared at him. “You think the oval has some connection to the madness and sickness?”

  Brother Li-Wen nodded. “We know it, as you know it. I have followed your woman scientist’s explanations, that the object may have been designed to alter human DNA. But she doesn’t understand the forces she’s dealing with. Xuemin knows, yet chooses to do nothing. It is up to us to return the oval to the place from where it came—to wall it up again, so the same ancient pestilence that killed our brothers two thousand years ago does not continue and destroy the entire world.”

  “But it’s already too late,” Logan said. “The damage is done, regardless of where the sickness came from. Millions are dying and the disease is spreading everywhere, all over Earth. It won’t do any good to simply wall the thing back up. We need to understand it. That’s our only hope.”

  The monks stared at him stubbornly. In that instant, Logan realized they were nothing but a terrified and superstitious bunch of zealots who had no real conception of what they were doing. They were as blind in their own way as Paul Littlefield was in his.

  He needed to kill them at once, he realized, though they may already have been as good as dead from their prolonged contact with the army of infected and dying men. For all he knew he was in the same boat just by being this close to them. He glanced back at the battle. The last waves of attackers were beginning to pour over the outer monastery wall. What happened in the next few minutes would likely decide all their fates. He needed to remove the leaders at once.

  As he raised his weapon, he caught movement out of the corner of his eye. Half a dozen staggering attackers rose from behind a wall and fell on him. Logan thrust his rifle butt at one, kicked a second, and then threw himself sideways down the slope, rolling head over heels, grunting as boulders slammed into his body. By t
he time he recovered and looked back up the rise, the monks had melted away.

  Cursing his bad luck, he turned and began to make his way back to the battle.

  Duncan listened to the battle raging above him in resolute terror. As soon as the attack had begun, he’d headed for the safest place he could think of, the underground chamber where the monks had taken them the first night.

  Now he sat in the dimly lit room and cursed his stupidity. He’d known it was madness to come to China! What a fool he was to allow himself to be conned into this insane search for a frozen body. What had the ice woman done for any of them? The body had disintegrated just like his bog woman. Another lost opportunity.

  Whatever difference it might have made to be able to study the DNA anomalies in the body was now totally irrelevant. There was no longer time to find an answer to the epidemic that was sweeping the world. And when he allowed his thoughts to wander to the terrifying, bleeding, insane attackers outside, he almost lost control of himself.

  Which was how Huang and Zhong found him, alone and terrified in the dim confines of the torch-lit chambers. The two Chinese had joined forces on a mission of their own—survival. Neither man had anything left to lose. Zhong had lost Yä Ling, but even more important, he’d been stripped of his authority by the crumbling Chinese hierarchy. For his part, Huang’s brief fling with self-importance had been crushed by Gaoming’s dismissal of his power grab and then by the public scorn of Diana, Logan, and the others. They didn’t even fear him enough to keep an eye on him—an error he intended to make them regret provided the insane army above didn’t do it for him. Accompanying him and Zhong was one of the monks they’d convinced to help them.

  “What do you want?” Duncan asked nervously when the men entered his room. Huang and Zhong each carried rifles and had packs filled with food and water.

  “We’re getting out of here,” said Huang. “We could use one more man to help fight our way through, if you’re willing.”