The Immortality Virus

by Christine Amsden

  “You get the bunk above mine.” Meg showed her.

  It was right next to the bathroom where people would be coming and going all night, but Grace didn’t care. She even had a vague impression that the barracks building had become incredibly loud with singing, talking, eating, and after-dinner cleanup.

  “You probably won’t be able to sleep until lights out at nine o’clock,” Meg said as Grace slipped into her bed. “It gets pretty loud after dinner.”

  “Mmm-hmmm,” Grace said noncommittally as she drifted off into sleep.

  Chapter 14

  The barracks woke before dawn, wrenching Grace out of a deep and dreamless sleep. Men began to flow past on their way to the bathroom while several women tended to breakfast and to the sick, who were still firmly entrenched in their beds. Most of them took the proffered water and food, but one man lay too still and the woman who had gone to his bunk shook her head sadly before pulling the sheet over his head.

  Grace tried not to look at the sick and the dead as she swung her legs out of bed and stretched the tension out of her body. Her head felt clearer than it had the night before, which wasn’t saying much but at least it was something. Her arm tingled rather than hurt, a sign it was healing. The bone-setter should have completed its job in the next few days.

  Unfortunately, Grace’s cloudless mind was now capable of fully registering her situation. She was a slave, imprisoned on a farm, and surrounded on all sides by twelve-foot high electric fences.

  She wondered how easy it would be to dig under the fence. Probably very difficult, digging alone in the frozen ground. She could wait until the ground thawed, but by then…

  Grace looked at the dead slave, who was being dragged out of the building. Then she looked at the other dozen or so slaves who could barely eat their porridge for the hacking coughs.

  Jane would probably not have let them stay in her barracks. She would toss them out in the cold rather than let them infect the rest of the clan. As the door shut behind the dead man, Grace wondered if Jane might have the right of it in this situation.

  A hand on Grace’s shoulder made her jump and turn around to stare into Sharon’s dark brown eyes.

  “I’ve considered putting them all out,” Sharon said. “Many of the other clan leaders are doing just that. This is the worst I can remember and so far, almost no one is recovering. It might be more humane to stick a knife through their hearts. We’ll have to burn all his clothes and the mattress. The owners aren’t happy about that. They don’t want to replace the mattresses. No other choice, though.”

  Grace had no idea what to say. She wanted the sick slaves turned out, but she had not lived with them like family. She tried to think what she would do if her mom, grandma, great-grandma, and sister were sick. Could she turn them out? Even knowing the tiny chance they could recover was outweighed by the number they could infect and kill.

  “The good of the many outweighs the good of the few,” Sharon said without much conviction.

  “So they say. That’s why Jane tossed me out after having ten men shake me up a bit.”

  “Jane doesn’t care about anyone but herself.” The look on Sharon’s face spoke of a long, tense history between them. “She’d kick out her own sister if she bruised her knee. Won’t have a baby in her bunks. She’ll kick out a woman if she gets pregnant, too.”

  “Seems like she’d have a high turnover rate. Where do the new clan members come from?”

  “You’ll find there are many who agree with her point of view, at least until they’re the ones in need. It’s a hard life on the farm. Your hands are soft but they’ll toughen up. Meanwhile, try to steer clear of Jane’s clan. I doubt very much they’ll forgive and forget if they run across you on your own.”

  “No, I’m sure they wouldn’t,” Grace agreed. Sharon retreated to tend to other tasks while Grace went to get herself some breakfast. The porridge wasn’t as good as the stew from the previous night, but it was better than her usual nutri-bars.

  Meg came in from her night shift just as Grace finished breakfast. She grabbed a bowl of porridge then plopped down on the bed beside Grace.

  “Jane’s thugs came snooping around the stables again last night,” Meg said. “They didn’t attack; they couldn’t because for once the farmers stayed, but I have a bad feeling about today.”

  “I can take care of myself,” Grace said.

  “I know. But there’s something going on.” Meg lowered her voice. “The farmers are edgy about something. They were asking about you.”

  “Me?”

  “Not by name, but they were asking for a slave with a bone-setter. Couldn’t be anyone else. I didn’t tell them where you were, but I think Jane’s clan told them you were with me last night. They kept asking me about it.”

  “They didn’t remember running into me yesterday morning, did they?” Grace asked.

  Meg shook her head. “They probably forgot five minutes later. They don’t really see us as people.”

  “So, what did you tell them?”

  “That I caught you prowling around, and then those two guys came and chased you off. I don’t know if they believed me, but I thought maybe it was better if they didn’t know right now.”

  “I don’t know,” Grace said, half thinking aloud. How could she know? There was something going on up at that plantation house that directly involved and was completely beyond her. They... no, someone threw her on this farm, but who and why? Were there, perhaps, other forces unhappy with that decision? The Kansas City Establishment wanted her to investigate Stanton. She certainly couldn’t do that from the farm.

  What was it Captain Flint had said to her? “The Establishment is not of one mind. Whatever you’re up to, we may be willing to overlook for the sake of your cooperation, but that doesn’t mean everyone will.”

  Alex Lacklin had said much the same thing about The Establishment not being a cohesive group. Grace supposed she had known that, at least on some level, her entire life, but looking up from the working class it was hard to care about the internal politics of the rich. Now she wished she had paid more attention.

  “Grace?” Meg’s voice broke through Grace’s reverie. “Should I have told them the truth?”

  “No, not until I’ve figured a few things out. You did the right thing.”

  Meg beamed.

  “I’d better get moving or I’ll miss my turn at the toilet.” With that, Grace hopped off her bunk and joined the queue of women just forming beside her bed.

  * * *

  The next three days passed in a blur. Grace managed to get her job done, learn a few of the names of the slaves in her clan, and avoid confrontation with Jane’s clan. It would have been boring were it not for the rising tension among the farmers. Everyone sensed it and some even traded rumors they were on the verge of some sort of civil war.

  Grace herself overheard several arguments among the overseers at the silo. The biggest and highest ranking one, Cohen, tried to discourage the in-fighting whenever he was around, but he had duties to perform and couldn’t be everywhere at once.

  “I’m just saying Old Cooper isn’t looking well,” a round-faced farmer named Mercedes said. “He’s not in charge here anymore. He’s too sick, and he’s not going to get better. Shoulda died years ago.”

  A lanky, red-haired farmer by the name of Bill scowled. “Well, his son’s an idiot.”

  “His son’s running this farm,” Mercedes shot back.

  “You seen Cooper’s will?” Bill asked. “Cuz I bet he made better plans for his farm than Roy. Even his daughters would be better, even if they all care more about their own tits and asses than anything else.”

  Mercedes reached up and slapped him across the face. Bill smiled. He seemed to have expected the reaction.

  “Come on,” Bill said. “Don’t even tell me Charlene’s got a part that isn’t plastic. Probably has a prosthetic brain, too.”

  Mercedes drew her sidearm and pointed it at Bill, whose smile disappeared. �
��Say that again.”

  He didn’t.

  Just then, Mercedes seemed to notice something out of the corner of her eye and she quickly stashed the disruptor back in its holster. Grace turned and saw it too–Cohen striding their way.

  “What’s going on over here?” Cohen demanded.

  “Nothing, sir,” Bill and Mercedes said together.

  “You,” Cohen said to Mercedes, “go outside and stand guard there.”

  “Yes, sir,” Mercedes said without argument. She strode away quickly, leaving the two men alone.

  “She went over the top,” Cohen said, “but I know you provoked her.”

  “But, sir,” Bill said, “she’s already buried Mr. Cooper and elevated Roy to godhood. Probably because she slept with him and thinks he cares.”

  “I don’t give a damn,” Cohen said. “You can keep it to yourself. This will sort itself out, do you understand?”

  Bill muttered something unintelligible.

  “Do you understand?” Cohen repeated.

  “Yes,” Bill said, though his voice said no.

  As Cohen turned to leave, Bill seemed to decide to dig himself in a little deeper. “So what do I do if I find the busted up slave? Whose orders do I follow?”

  “Mine,” Cohen said in a harsh growl. “Now, hand over your disruptor and head back up to the manor to cool down. When I see you tomorrow, you’d better have left the attitude behind.”

  * * *

  The next day didn’t seem to bring any improvement to Bill’s attitude. Grace managed to maneuver herself closer to him, hoping he’d let more details slip.

  “I’m leaving at noon,” Mercedes told Bill. “You’ll have to cover for me.”

  “On whose orders?” Bill asked.

  “Roy’s.”

  “Roy can’t give you an order,” Bill said. His fingers strayed close to his disruptor, but he did not draw it. “Or is this something he whispered in your ear last night?”

  Mercedes’s face turned scarlet. “Jealous, are we? Upset Charlene never went for you?”

  “My plastic dream girl,” Bill said with a sigh. He kept his eyes on Mercedes’s hand.

  “Who else you got besides your hand?” Mercedes shot back.

  Bill looked around and lowered his voice. “Look, what’s up? You planning to comb the farm for this girl and then what? Mr. Cooper said–”

  “Mr. Cooper is as good as dead,” Mercedes said, “and I’m not telling you our plans.”

  “He’ll throw you away, you know,” Bill said. “He did it before. Why’d you take him back?” For once, he actually had a touch of compassion in his voice, but Mercedes didn’t seem to notice.

  “Screw you,” Mercedes said and spun on her heels, heading for the door.

  * * *

  That night at dinner, the other slaves in Sharon’s clan kept their eyes fixed on Grace. They did not even bother to try to hide their stares. The heat of all those eyes made her want to crawl under a blanket, but she stood firm. She, too, guessed that whatever was going on had something to do with her. The only difference was, to her it was more than a curiosity. It was her life.

  Meg came to sit beside Grace, using her body to shield some of the looks. “They’ve been asking everyone about a slave with a bone-setter.”

  “I figured,” Grace said. She hadn’t heard it herself, but mutters, stares, and the term “bone-setter” kept drifting her way.

  “No one here will turn you in,” Meg promised. “We protect our own.”

  “Hmm.” Grace did not want to argue, but she did not believe it. These people had nothing, and people who had nothing had everything to gain by turning in a stranger who had barely joined their midst.

  “They’re curious, though,” Meg said.

  “Curiosity can be deadly.”

  “Yeah, I know, curiosity killed the cat.”

  Grace stared at Meg, a little perplexed. “What?”

  “Never mind.” Meg looked around at the staring faces, and then lowered her voice. The volume in the room lowered as she did. “Can’t you trust me by now? I want to help. What’s going on?”

  “It’s not a question of trust,” Grace whispered. Well, partly it was a question of trust, but that hardly mattered. “Your life is in danger if I tell you.”

  “That’s so melodramatic,” Meg said dismissively.

  “It’s true.”

  “You don’t trust me.” Meg’s face fell into something just shy of pathetic.

  “That’s not it,” Grace lied again. She searched for something to distract the overly romantic girl. “Look, I tell you what. When I get out of here, I’ll take you with me.”

  “Why?”

  “What do you mean? Do you want to be a slave?”

  Meg shrugged. “Always have been. Besides, I told you it was nice here.”

  “It’s nicer out there.”

  “If you say so.” Meg hopped off the bunk. “I got to get to my shift.”

  She didn’t. She had at least another half an hour, but Grace sensed she had really gone the wrong direction with that conversation. Perhaps it was her lies. Meg might be uneducated, but she was hardly stupid. She had to know that Grace really didn’t trust her.

  “Oh well,” Grace said under her breath. “I’ll make it up to her.” She’d set the girl free somehow and show her what life could be. It was the least she could do for someone who’d saved her life, and maybe there was something else, too. Maybe a part of her wanted a real friend in her life. Her mother and sister only called her when they weren’t too busy with their boyfriends and she had kept everyone at a distance since she’d broken up with Sam. She had thought she was okay with that, but then she let Meg in just a little bit and it felt good.

  * * *

  Something strange was going on at the silo. Yesterday, there had been a short line of slaves waiting to report their barracks number before heading to work. Today, the line was longer and moving much more slowly.

  “What’s going on?” Grace whispered to a woman she recognized from Sharon’s clan.

  The man in front of them answered, in a loud voice. “I think someone stole a bone-setter. They’re checking us all to see if we have one.”

  Grace nervously pulled the sleeve of her coat down lower. At least this one fit, covering the device that so clearly marked her identity. Maybe Alex hadn’t given it to her to be nice, but rather to mark her so he could find her later.

  The woman Grace recognized, though not by name, leaned over and whispered. “You’d better go.”

  “Will you tell anyone?” Grace asked in an even quieter voice than she’d used before.

  “Course not. We protect our own.” The fierce look on her tiny face told Grace she meant it.

  Without another word, Grace slipped out of line and headed back to the barracks, wondering what she should do. If she didn’t work that day, she would be a burden on Sharon’s clan, but there was no place she could work. She glanced in the direction of the factory, where another larger-than-usual group of slaves milled about. If she reported for work anywhere, they would find her and... what? Maybe she’d have more of a chance facing that unknown than trying to escape, or worse–trying to survive the winter without a clan willing to put her up.

  Then, from somewhere near the silo, Grace heard the unmistakable hum of disruptor fire. Someone screamed, and the slaves started to scatter.

  Chapter 15

  A stampede of slaves came barreling down from the silo like a solid gray wall closing in. There were a few more disruptor blasts, but none of them seemed to be directed at the slaves. Grace flung herself behind the thick trunk of a barren tree, hibernating for the winter, and let the flood of gray flow past her. They flew to their barracks, probably because they had nowhere to go and few of them had thermal coats to lend them long-term protection in this cold.

  After the last few drifted by, Grace could see clear to the silo, where several of the red-clad farmers lay on the ground and several more had weapons trained upon
one another.

  This was bad.

  Grace turned from the tree to head back to her own clan where she would have at least a little time to think. Something told her she would have to act soon. There was definitely no time to wait for a spring thaw.

  “I knew you hadn’t died,” hissed a sickeningly familiar voice to Grace’s left. Jane stood there, her face as grim as ever, her massive body poised for a fight.

  “I don’t want trouble,” Grace said, more to buy herself time than because she thought she could avoid trouble.

  Jane laughed as three of her clan members began to close in from all sides. “It’s way too late for that. I hear you’re the reason the farmers went crazy. Everyone’s looking for you, but no one wants anyone else to be the one who finds you. I bet we could get a lot if we turned you in.”

  “Or you’d end up as dead as those farmers,” Grace countered. She didn’t really believe it. In fact, she thought Jane had a good point, but the lie was worth a shot.

  Jane let out a low, mirthless laugh. “The only question is: Are you worth more dead or alive?”

  The encircling clan members were nearly upon her. She had one chance at this–Grace tore off in the direction of the barracks, between two of the encircling men. One of them threw himself at her, but she managed to slip out of his grasp before he really had her.

  Then the chase was on.

  Adrenaline coursed through her, driving her forward, making her forget everything but the rhythm of her legs and the pounding in her chest. She did not turn back to look. Part of her knew Jane would be right behind her, but she kept herself focused on her goal: Get to barracks 79.

  She could feel the ground with every stride through the thin soles of her ragged shoes. Each rock dug into her foot. She could only hope Jane’s shoes fared no better.

  Suddenly, she couldn’t feel the ground at all.

  It took her a split second to realize someone had set a trip wire across her path.