West replied with a thumb up before continuing with Travis. “But we don’t have the time to dwell on it. Not yet anyway. Go on, I’ll get Alex and meet you onboard.”
Mississippi River- Border of Missouri and Kentucky
December 5, 2009
1302 hours
At thirty-thousand feet, the hiss of air running through the pressurized cabin was mildly distracting, but the collective chatter among Staff Sergeant Fikejs’ Marines and West’s motley crew of vigilante civilians was enough to overtake the ambiance.
Some spread out and intermingled, while others, like Steve and Alex, withdrew from the larger groups and took the opportunity to relish the long-awaited rendezvous.
“So all that happened after we got split up?" Steve asked incredulously.
“Yup,” Alex replied, spitting a cube of ice back into the glass of rum and cola. “We got the last truck, took out that d-bag Daytona, and caught this asshole...”
Alex pointed to Albert. The evil genius was forced to sit on the ground; his wrists were tied to a seat’s armrest.
"He is going to help us take down Liz and her company."
Steve rolled his eyes in disbelief. He finished the small serving of Irish whiskey before continuing. "I still have so many questions that I don't even know where to begin…But you, you’re alive, and you didn't get Ambrosia? How’s that possible?”
"Nope, and good thing cause that stuff is bad news. Apparently, it is a vaccine, but it's more than that. I can't really explain it. You'd have to talk to-"
"That asshole. Got it.”
Albert was staring glaringly at the others who celebrated while he was bound and uncomfortable.
"Ya. He's the guy who created Ambrosia. Don’t really know what it is, just that it’s some fucked up shit."
"Then I don't get it, how are you not infected?
“I'm immune, bro,” Alex said, snorting at the impossible odds. “On our way down to the Fox Hole we stopped off at some medical facility Albert’s company contracted with. He ran some tests, and by tests, I mean like a million tests and retests. He kept saying it was impossible, but the data was conclusive: deteriorating levels of Trinity. And based on the rate it should be almost zero now. It looks like that stuff Diane gave me worked. Even my arm is starting to heal, check it out..."
He peeled back the compress, revealing the scabbing tissue on his wrist.
“Diane thought her first round of testing would be the start of a vaccine but whatever she made, it worked. Go figure.”
"But I saw you, Travis too. Coughin’ and spittin’ up blood. You were sick. You looked like Collin on the way over to Blue Springs."
Alex finished his glass, then popped up to refill his and Steve’s cocktail.
"Dude, I know. When I asked Albert, he said my immune system was seriously compromised, said my body could have either been fighting off Trinity or actually sick from something else. Either way, I feel myself getting better. But enough about me. I wanna hear more about you. Lisa was telling me you guys were living with a cult or some shit? What the hell is that all about?"
“Thanks bro,” Steve said, accepting the refreshed glass of Jameson. “That’s an understatement. New Jerusalem was one weird, backwards, twisted town of religious nuts…”
While Steve left out the parts about seeing his dad, he did summarize the rest.
"This place was like Amish meets Wild Wild West. The Preacher was a fake, but one hell of a good one though. As it turns out, he was some illusionist from Vegas who was conning the people to get them to serve him. Nick found out on accident, but before he could tell anyone, the Preacher and his accomplices grabbed him. I’m guessing the Preacher had no way out so he came up with the plan to sacrifice Nick, and the town condoned it, believed God wanted them to do it...fucked up shit, bro."
Alex withdrew deeper into his seat. He gazed out the window, speechless.
Leave it there. Alex doesn’t need to hear the details, Steve thought, then said, "Nick was a damn good man. I know you know that. He got a good burial. Kelly, too. When this shit is all over, we’ll go back and visit him."
Alex smiled sadly. "I’d like that.” And in an angry yet composed manner he said, “I'm glad you guys exposed that fuck-head Preacher. The town should sacrifice the others or at least banish their asses.”
"Ya. Agreed...but hey on another note, if it wasn't for Jenny, I wouldn't be here. She got him right in the sweet spot,” Steve said, tapping the area above his nose, in between the eyebrows. “Girl's a natural."
"Looks like you have a protégée on your hands.”
Steve rolled his eyes.
“How's she doing by the way? She just killed a man...I mean I killed two dudes and fried a dozen more, and it’s just now kinda creeping me out, so I can only imagine how she’s handling it."
Steve looked two aisles back at Jenny. Talkative and happy, she was sitting next to Lisa and Shanna. "I think she's going to be okay. I think we all are."
"Alright, so what’s going on with you? You’re smiling and you...you just seem better."
Steve stared into the glass as he swished the liquid around and around. A warmth took over his face and not from the alcohol. It wasn’t quite a smile, more a glow of hope. "I'm getting there. I..."
Steve didn’t intend to pause, but he wanted to make sure the words were true and exactly as he wanted them to come out.
"Nick, he really helped me out. Put shit in perspective, ya know?"
"He was always good with stuff like that. Gonna miss him,” Alex said, holding his glass up in salute of his fallen friend and mentor.
“That reminds me,” Steve said, reaching into the bag under his seat. He pulled out Nick’s hatchet and handed it to Alex. "He would have wanted you to have this."
Alex ran his fingers up and down the Sioux markings. “Thanks man.” Sniffling, Alex hid his face as he set the blade aside. “Tell anyone I cried and I’ll sock you in the gut.”
Hands up in defense, Steve chuckled. “Lips are sealed, bro. Well, unless I need to use it as leverage someday.”
Alex pushed Steve playfully. “So you’re gettin’ your shit sorted out, huh? That means you aren't gonna go all Patrick Bateman on me, right?"
Steve laughed out loud. “No. There will be no more American Psycho, Christian Bale-type mental breakdowns. I think it’s safe to say that Steve is gone."
“Hey guys,” Travis interrupted, stepping over the cluttered aisle. “West is gonna question Albert again. Thought you might wanna join."
***
"Did I miss something?" Albert said, noticing the swarm of people surround him.
West sat on top of a hard-shelled storage case, positioning himself in a higher, more dominating position. "We want to know about the facility. How to get in. Personnel. Security systems. Everything."
"Not a chance,” Albert snorted as though the question was ridiculous. “Getting you in and out is my ace. I tell you that, I’m no longer useful, and you kill me. I know how this game works."
"Well, you better start telling me something new."
"Such as?"
"Let's start with something simple. What is Ambrosia really?"
"Ambrosia is far from simplicity-”
Travis smacked the back of Albert’s head, and with it, the impudence from his speech. “Simplify it.”
“Fine. As you already know, I created Ambrosia and its counterpart Eris. One to destroy the world, one to save it.”
"Why? What’s the point?" asked Corporal Ryan.
"God, you people really have difficulty going from A to B, don’t you?” Albert moved his head to the side, to avoid another smack from Travis. “Create a virus so we could administer the vaccine of course. Come on people, at least try to keep up."
West snapped his fingers repeatedly to gain Albert’s attention. “Ambrosia, what is it?”
"Ambrosia is perfection. A work of absolute artistic brilliance. The manifestation of total biological control.” Albert’s ominous
smile alone caused a tremor of fear to run from person to person.
"What do you mean?"
"I mean exactly what I said, Sergeant Major. Ambrosia was designed to counteract Eris’s effects.”
“Eris? You mean Trinity?” asked Steve. He had not heard the name “Eris” used before.
“Yes, as your Doctor Phillips coined, the Trinity Virus. I admit I am growing partial to that term. Moving on, if Ambrosia is administered as a vaccination, the individual will be immune upon exposure to Trinity. If administered after contraction but before complete transformation, Eris will be stopped and its effects reversed.”
“So Ambrosia is a vaccine?”
“Yes, Corporal, but as they say, the Devil is in the details. Ambrosia is a biomechanical creation, unlike anything that has ever been thought about, and subsequently something the world has never seen. It took me the better part of eight years and billions of dollars to develop, but I created nanobots the size of DNA.”
“That’s it? Just some tiny bugs?” interrupted Ringo.
“I wouldn’t expect an illiterate grunt to comprehend the magnitude and depth of Ambrosia’s brilliance.”
“Hey, I can read good,” Ringo replied sarcastically.
“Ringo, can-it,” Fikejs ordered. “I wanna hear about this stuff.”
Albert licked his lips and continued. “These nanobots are individually programmed with and contain the functionality of a supercomputer, and despite their singularity they act in unison. Without going into the science that would undoubtedly confuse and stupefy you people, these biomechanical organisms essentially graft to a person's system and wait.”
Mason raised his hand. "I don't think I'm getting the purpose; wait for what?"
"Well, I would find it troubling if a Scottish mutt with, and I’m estimating, an Intelligence Quotient of 80, could understand the genius complexity of the purpose.”
“I got this one,” Flenderson said, moving past Travis. He smacked Albert hard, over the ear and cheek. “No one makes fun of my kin. He might be an idiot, but his stupidity is mine to joke about.”
“Thanks?” Mason said, unsure.
West grabbed Albert’s hair, pulling just enough to cause discomfort. “Explain the purpose.”
Albert’s eyes drifted to the first person he noticed. "For example, let's take the gigantic Canadian with the ridiculous maple leaf tattoos. What happened to him?"
“Dylan?” Charlie asked for clarification. “He got shot.”
"Well, in his case, Ambrosia has the ability to heal his wounds completely. Not just repairing and rebuilding damaged tissue and organs, but the nanotech can seek out and dispose of any residual lead, shrapnel, and bone fragments. Imagine a soldier wounded on the battlefield, not anymore. As for the world’s collective diseases, Ambrosia is the one and only cure-all. Whether you have Ebola or Salmonella, the biochemical makeup of these nanobots is such that they are not susceptible to attacks from microorganisms. Additionally, they are able to rebuild and replicate themselves on demand...”
Shock was abundantly apparent.
"Or on the other end of the spectrum,” Albert continued. “Say a person has a genetic disease. Sickle cell, muscular dystrophy, Huntington's, you name it. Ambrosia has the power to go into your genetic makeup and correct it. Anything from nerve damage to subnormal brain function. For the person with sexual performance issues, it can make you bigger, better, and last longer, or give you the most intense orgasm you've ever felt. Anything wrong with you can be fixed or altered. It can even enter your mind...for example, the alcoholic or any other addictive persona for that matter, Ambrosia can, in a way, persuade you not to take another drink. For the abusive father, not get angry when dinner isn't ready. But do not confuse my statement with mind control. It cannot take away free will. However, Ambrosia is able to alter, disrupt, and otherwise interfere with receptors in your brain and in essence, condition you. Ambrosia is the next step to becoming gods."
"So it really stops the infection?" Case asked incredulously.
Albert raised a dis-impressed eyebrow. "Lance Corporal, that is all you took from what I just revealed? I do not enjoy repeating myself, so listen well, YES. IT. DOES."
“It wasn’t a question. It was more of one of those rhetorical statements, asshole.”
“Might I suggest next time, internalize your dialogue or change the inflection of your tone as to avoid confusion?”
“How ‘bout you avoid my fist in your-”
“Case, drop it,” Fikejs ordered, stopping the ego-driven assault.
“I have a question,” Alex said, waiting for Albert to make eye contact. “Can it do anything for blind and deaf people?"
"I assume you are hinting at your deaf girlfriend? Yes, Ambrosia is able to repair hearing loss and blindness. It can even remove the cancer from your body, self-induced from years of toxic consumption or heredity, Ambrosia does it all."
Lisa was holding on to Alex’s hand, but raised it to her chest. “Did he just say he could fix my hearing?”
Alex nodded and smiled back at her.
"Ambrosia doesn't sound so bad,” Fikejs said, leaning against the cabin wall.
Albert shrugged, knowing the true purpose was far from virtuous. "It's like anything else. It can be used for good or bad."
"And we know where you and your company stand," West stated matter-of-factly. “So if this stuff is so amazing, why would you give it away for free?”
"Sergeant Major, now I know you are smarter than that question indicates. But if you need me to spell it out, I will. Nothing is free. The dying, the ugly, the obese, the injured, the impaired, whoever and whatever someone has or isn’t satisfied with, they would seek counsel or treatment at one of our company’s future facilities. They tell us what’s wrong with them, and we tell them we can fix it, for a price. We would give them some placebo medication or schedule a “surgery” to correct whatever they wanted. In actuality we do nothing more than activate the nanotechnology, and the patient would be fixed."
The response triggered a memory for West; a conversation from a year ago he had with Daytona inside The Wet Net. "More than money, more than power, it was about keeping the business open.”
It was never about profiting from the infection. It was about profiting from everything else after it. Ambrosia was the just the beginning. It was a way to inoculate the public with these nanobots without them knowing. When the world resumed to normal, whatever disease people had they could be "cured" by the LIFE Corporation.
Matty leaned back, flabbergasted. "You could control everything from healthcare to economies to wars.”
Albert’s face glowed with a pride for his creation. "We have our personal interests, but yes, whoever pays the most."
"What interests are those?"
"Why everything, Sergeant Major. After all, we are the LIFE Corporation, ‘Helping you live the life you were born to live,’" he said, reciting the company’s slogan.
Shanna scowled at Albert. "You and your company are pure evil."
"Oh, you think we are the bad guys?"
"Of course you are! You admitted to developing a disease that killed off billions in order to profit from it!”
"Oh, save it, sister,” Albert said, though the racial implication was unclear. “Everyone is out to get theirs. We are just smarter than the rest. Allow me to enlighten you and hopefully clarify some hard truths…”
No one realized, but they all leaned inward, intrigued by the passionate speech.
“Your world is a lie. Everything, and I mean everything, is controlled. You, I see your Angels baseball cap. Do you ever bet?”
Alex instinctively put a finger to his face. “Me? Ya, sometimes...”
When he looked at Lisa, his answer changed in fear of judgment.
“Well, kinda, but not really, babe. Just like small stuff here and there.”
Lisa smiled and rolled her eyes.
“Every sport is fixed. Believe me, I personally know the men who decide
, in advance, who wins the World Cup, World Series, Super Bowl, etcetera….let’s move on. You, Marine,” Albert said, calling forth Ringo. “You have terrible breath. I smelled the horrid stench all the way from the bunker. How your compatriots can stand you is a testament to living torture…”
Ringo put a hand over his mouth, embarrassed.
“But judging by the unfixed chips and lack of additional teeth, I'm assuming, like your oral hygiene, your oral health care is sub-par. Let me ask you, have you ever received any amalgam fillings?
Case’s reply was muffled by his own hand. "Amalgam?"
Albert rolled his eyes. "Silver fillings?”
Case nodded, as did a few others.
“Ridiculously dubbed so, because in fact most are composed of 50% mercury, which is a neurotoxin, something the ADA knows, rather knew about but had ignored. Then there are the private companies that continue to manufacture and sell chemical weapons that kill thousands despite the Chemical Weapons Convention. Shall I go on?"
Albert did not wait for an answer.
"Speaking of chemicals, DDT is a substance that the US banned to be used on its own crops, yet we still manufacture it, sell it to other countries and in turn purchase their produce. But let me change subjects from agribusiness to other thriving commodities, like Big Oil. Ever hear of the Ogoni people? Of course you wouldn't because news media is controlled, and if you did not know that much, then you are a bigger idiot than I thought. But I digress to the Ogoni. They are but one example of a people who were killed and displaced, and whose land was destroyed and uninhabitable, yet oil pipelines are still being laid, and corporations punished with a fine and a slap on the wrist...”
The audience thought Albert was going to stop, but he was just taking a breath.
“You, with the diamond ring around your neck. Did you know one half of all diamonds sold are conflict? Public relations specialists and salesmen alike tell consumers that the number is closer to one quarter, but I can attest otherwise. They lie because that is what you truly want to hear so you sleep better at night knowing that the tiny stone on your wife’s finger didn’t cost an African his arm."
The Longest Road (Book 3): The Other Side Page 65