Cursed Apprentice (Earth Survives Book 2)

by R. R. Roberts

“Here, let me help you to the guest bathroom.”

  A puzzled look crossed Grimly’s face but smoothed. He let Mike help him to his feet and lead him down the hallway. “Thish is crazy,” he slurred.

  “When was the last time you ate something? Should I order some food?”

  Grimly closed his eyes, then opened them wide, blinking, giving his head a shake. “Maybe.”

  “How about pizza?”

  They’d arrived at a bathroom door. Mike opened it and flicked the light switch. Grimly recoiled and teetered in the doorway, squinting against the glare. Worried, Mike waved him inside, watching him cautiously. “You pull yourself together, Dan. I’ll get in some pizza, with a side of wings. You like spicy?”

  Grimly nodded vaguely. “Shhure…”

  Mike turned to go, then stopped. “Hey. Maybe take a quick shower? That always works for me.”

  Grimly gazed back at him in astonishment. It wasn’t everyday your boss invited you to take a shower, Mike realized. It was weird.

  Mike shrugged. “Or not. Totally up to you. I’ll go make the call. Should be about half an hour.”

  “’K.” Grimly pawed the door closed.

  Mike returned to the great room, built a quick fire in the fireplace, then once it was going strong called up his favorite Italian restaurant. “Hey, Carlos.”

  “Hey Mr. Eggers! How’s my best customer tonight?”

  “Hungry as a grizzly. What’s tonight’s special?”

  Carlos listed the three specials. Mike put in an order for lobster alfredo with an organic micro-greens salad, oil and vinegar dressing on the side, with a steamed-mussels start.

  He was certain Grimly would not be joining him for dinner.

  Once he’d finished his meal, it was time to check on his guest—it was over an hour since he’d shown Grimly into the bathroom. He wiped his hands, tossed the take-out containers then padded down the hall in his sock feet. Nudging the door open, he saw a pile of clothes on the floor, and Grimly slumped inside the shower, water raining down on his hairy back.

  “Dan?” With his gaze riveted on Grimly, Mike entered the room pulling back his sleeve as he did, then reached inside the shower to shut off the water.

  “Dan?”

  Grimly was motionless.

  It was done.

  Mike scooped up Grimly’s clothes, holding them away from his body and returned to the great room. Here he fed them into the fire, including the man’s wallet and passport. So much simpler this way. Yes, it would all mean nothing in a matter of weeks, but still, he couldn’t be too careful. Those drones weren’t in the hands of those boys yet. He poked the fire once or twice, making sure everything was consumed. Once he was satisfied, he called Boyd, his original D5 guy; his best, go-to guy.

  Boyd picked up at once. “Yes.”

  “I have the package.”

  “I’ll be right there.”

  “And Boyd?”

  “Yes?”

  “Bring your stuff. Change of plans. You move in tonight.”

  Mike ended the call, stretched and yawned. Maybe he’d get a shower in himself before Boyd arrived to clean up Grimly.

  MIKE’S CELLPHONE RANG. It was Moses.

  Mike answered, flipping the call to speaker and continued scrambling his eggs.

  “You’re watching this?” Zhang asked without preamble.

  “Yeah. I’ve got the local Seattle channel on. Wouldn’t miss it.” Mike sprinkled the eggs with Taco seasonings, added Tex-Mex shredded cheese then covered the pan with a lid and slid it off the heat. He was making “breakfast for supper” tonight.

  “Look at those kids’ faces,” Moses said with awe. “What I wouldn’t have given to meet with a bunch of like-minded kids for a week away from my old man.” It was comments like this that led Mike to think Zhang and his father had not seen eye to eye. Mike never pursued the matter. He didn’t care.

  He shrugged and checked his eggs. The cheese had melted nicely. “Made the news.”

  The story changed from the Seattle Jamboree to breaking news: A local school shooting. Great. He muted the television and slid his eggs onto a plate beside a lightly toasted sesame bagel.

  Moses said, “So, off they go—home with their new deadly toy and cough. We should be seeing results in about forty-eight hours, right?”

  “Something like that.” Mike carried his supper and phone over to his desk, where he intended to keep working. He didn’t like Moses’s tone. Yes, the hard correction was necessary, but Zhang didn’t have to be enjoying it so much. People were going to die. Good people.

  “And there’s no way this can be traced back to us?”

  Mike barked a laugh. “There is no ‘us’, buddy. You’ve been hiding out on your island for months while I’ve taken all the risks. If they come knocking on anyone’s door, it will be mine. And no, it won’t be traced back. The messenger was eliminated the same day. He won’t be found any time soon. And if he were, by then, no one will care, they’ll be too busy fighting to survive a world-wide pandemic. It’s a non-issue.” He caught himself stroking the subcutaneous device in his left forearm and made himself stop. He had nothing to be concerned about.

  “I give you a little autonomy and it goes straight to your head.”

  “Yeah, that’s what it’s called—you—‘giving me a little autonomy’.”

  Moses laughed. “What can I say? I’ve created a superstar.”

  This line of talk had drifted into Moses’s reasoning lately and it did not sit well with Mike. It pissed him off. He was no one’s creation—he was his own man, stepping up for the entire planet and for the human race, while Moses Zhang hid in the shadows like the coward he was proving himself to be. When it came right down to it, Zhang hadn’t had the stones to push the button.

  Mike wasn’t willing to waste time arguing the point with the man. Moses was who he was.

  “Why are you calling, Moses?”

  “Thought we could arrange for a celebratory dinner out somewhere tonight, before all the good restaurants shut down.”

  “I’m not celebrating here, Moses. There’s no pleasure in this.” He glanced at his eggs and had no appetite for them. He shoved the plate away and rose to pace beside his desk. “I’ve already eaten, in any case.”

  “You haven’t touched a bite.” Zhang’s words came from behind him, not the phone. Mike whirled to see Moses standing in the foyer by the elevator door.

  “What the hell, Moses! Not funny!”

  Shutting down his phone, Zhang cocked one eyebrow at the cold eggs. “Cook quit?”

  “I sent Jamal and his family on a month-long Scottish vacation. They’re taking the whole tour—toffees, tartans, bagpipes, castles. Thought they could at least enjoy time together before…” He gave it up, shrugging.

  “Oh, Mike.” Moses wagged his head with a show of sadness instantly denied by the twinkling merriment in his chocolate brown eyes. “You’re getting soft-hearted on me?”

  How did he do it? How did he make Mike feel like a naughty boy, caught with his hand in the candy jar? Mike tossed his phone onto his desk. “I needed to clear this place out. I need to be alone for this part.”

  Moses pointed back toward the elevator with a questioning expression. “Should I go?”

  Mike sighed. “No. Stay. There’s nothing to do now but wait.”

  “Where’s Boyd.”

  “Working the phone. Getting the D5 guys together. I decided we should gather here sooner rather than later. Why wait and risk our plan?”

  Moses shrugged his acquiescence, sat down on one of the plush couches and looked around. “I like what you’ve done with the place.”

  Mike snorted, “Bite me,” and dropped into the couch opposite.

  “How about a drink?”

  “Help yourself. It’s your bar.” Mike watched Moses get up and approach the bar and for one crazy moment, considered saying nothing. Moses out of his life would feel… He didn’t know how it would feel, but some days—many days—he wanted to
find out. Was today that day?

  Moses reached for the Jack Daniels.

  Mike caved. “I don’t recommend the Jack Daniels, there, bud. It has that something extra you won’t like. Not even a little bit.”

  Moses looked at him inquiringly. “Oh?”

  “You drink it and you go bye-bye.”

  “All righty, then.” Moses chose a liqueur, pouring two glasses. He returned with both in his one good hand and offered one to Mike. “Anisette.”

  Mike took the glass, sipped, then let his head drop back and closed his eyes.

  “You know in a matter of days your paying clients will be beating down the doors of three hundred Sanctuaries we have stretched across North America. Very valuable real estate.”

  “Yes. And the guards will take care of them. Only the people I personally cleared are now behind those gates. They’re safely inside with their devices fully charged against our ‘best guess’ viruses, as promised, when they were recruited. They know where they stand. They know what’s coming.” Mike opened his eyes and stared at Moses. “We’ve amassed the most brilliant minds of these times and will protect them for a better future.”

  “What they don’t know is you made that future happen.”

  “And they’ll soon be extremely grateful the elusive Mr. Courlisaw had the forethought to save them.”

  This made them both chuckle.

  Moses murmured, “It never gets old, right?”

  Mike nodded and unmuted the television.

  THREE DAYS LATER, with the D5 team moved into the penthouse with them in case of trouble, they gathered around the media centers of the penthouse and trolled for news, any news.

  Together, for twenty-nine days, they all watched the world fall apart.

  At Moses’s request—this a surprise to Mike—the D5 team, with the exception of Boyd, escorted Moses through the city back to his island on the thirtieth day of witnessing the end of the world as they’d known it. Mike wasn’t sad to see them go. He could only take Moses in small doses. And when it came to actually living with the marginal D5 guys he’d assembled over the last few years? They were creepy when observed up close and personal. There was a reason they were so good at their job; they were sociopaths. Plus, they were slobs. Being roomies for twenty-nine days with the D5’s and Moses had stretched Mike’s nerves to their limits. He needed to be alone to think through his next move.

  The bad news for the D5 guys was their devices would not actually protect them from the virus as they had been promised. He and Moses had decided there could be no connection between them and the source of the virus once this all shook out. That meant the D5 guys had to go.

  Again, Boyd was the exception; Boyd was the only one Mike trusted, and whom he had taken into his confidence. Boyd knew what was coming for his ex-compatriots, had always known it would end up just he and Mike in the end. Boyd would be Mike’s right-hand man through the whole transition of power, his second in command.

  Somewhere along the way to escorting Moses back to his precious island, the Dirty Deeds Done Dirt Cheap wing of their operation would contract the BSV and conveniently succumb. It was a necessary step in the evolution of the transition from the greedy exploitation of Mother Earth to caring for her. Problem solved.

  Mike looked around the penthouse, shaking his head at the disaster, before his eyes met Boyd’s, who looked equally unimpressed. “Start cleaning this crap up. We won’t be taking over the university for another month and we’re not living like this.”

  “I agree.” Boyd nodded sharply and got to work.

  Mike clicked off the test pattern burned into his TV screen. No one was manning the television stations now. After two weeks, they’d all been down to skeleton crews, with recycled film clips of emergency response teams, then black X’d-out doors of the sick, then clips of strategic burnings, thought at first to stay the disease from spreading. Of course, the usual smash and grab ransacking followed.

  Why?

  How would that big-screen TV, that stereo system, that washer and dryer, that case of whiskey save your life? How would punching that teetering elderly couple, stealing their groceries, a purse, save your life? There had been heroic stories reported near the start, but these reports soon descended into tales of the opposite nature. Civilization was such a thin veneer. Just a little scratching at the surface, and man’s baser ways were quickly revealed.

  With each stage of the losing battle, the local and national news anchors’ appearances thinned in numbers. Their presentations evolved from scripted reporting, camera-ready make-up and hair, crisp shirts, suits, and ties, to bewildered rambling, pit-stained sweatshirts and hollow-cheeked, whisker-shadowed expressions of hopelessness. Mike could practically smell the fear. But they’d stuck it out; he had to give them that.

  It was going to fall down around our ears sooner or later, people. You can’t disrespect your world and be surprised when she fights back.

  26

  PROFESSOR RED

  CRUTCHING himself at as smooth a pace as he could manage, Coru was thankful for the strong pain meds Dom had shared with him. They were a cut above the over the counter pills Wren had in their first aid kits. These new pills masked the majority of his discomfort. This would be good for when they made a break for it with the antidote. He had to believe they would secure the antidote. Once they made their bid to escape New Pacifica, he would not have the luxury of babying his leg.

  He kept his head down, and stuck to the shadows, his eyes sharp, drifting along with groups of soldiers making their way into the Quad, one of them and not one of them. His head markings were covered, his uniform fit him remarkably well. No one questioned his presence.

  Once inside the Quad, which was much more brightly illuminated than the military encampment that encircled the New Earth Center, Coru saw images projected on the inside walls of the Quad. He craned his neck to better view them, not understanding what he was seeing at first, then abruptly did, rocking back on his crutch. They were disturbing, filled with death and destruction. Animal slaughters, flooded cities, raped forests, starving people, dead fish, dead birds, dead people washed up on shore. Was this Professor Red’s view of life here? Was this his way to soften up his audience, get them ready for his message?

  Coru glanced around warily. The place was filling up, people, all men, jostling one another now, positioning themselves, facing toward a balcony outside the second floor of the Quad, a lectern positioned there, lit up, and heavily guarded. Over the top, he thought, considering Red would soon be preaching to the choir. What danger did they believe Red faced in this crowd?

  He raked his gaze across to the stairway closest to Red’s balcony. This would be where they’d aim.

  He should get back and alert the others; the rally was happening faster than they’d anticipated. The plan had been to gain entrance into Professor Red’s quarters while everyone was focused on the rally itself. If they didn’t join the crowd now, they’d never get near the entrance they were after. He turned, tried to push back against the pressing tide of bodies and got nowhere.

  Hopping on one foot to regain his balance, Coru erased the worry from his expression and made a show of glancing around, catching a few eyes and exchanging big grins. Yup, he was just one of the boys, happy to be here, happy to be hearing Professor Red speak.

  One soldier, a young kid with a moon face and open expression pointed to Coru’s crutch. “What happened to you, brother?”

  I’m no brother of yours. Coru shrugged. “Damned Pig Stickers! We got ‘em all in the end.”

  “Right on! New Pacifica Wild will be ours within weeks.”

  “I gotta get my guys before there’s no room, here,” Coru told the soldier loudly, hoping a path would appear. “We didn’t put those Pig Stickers down to end up at the back of the bus here.” A path did appear, the sea of POE soldiers willingly making way for him to pass.

  He was hobbling through, bobbing here and there, making slow progress when he saw Dom’s towering
figure making its way toward him. Dom’s head was hooded, and his body was draped in such a way he could carry Noah with him unnoticed—they hoped. POE soldiers parted as he advanced, their eyes widening at his size and shrouded appearance. There would be no hiding Dom.

  “Hey,” Coru shouted over the increasing din of voices, tinging his greeting with a touch of annoyance. “What took you so damned long?”

  Dom flashed him an annoyed look of his own and jerked his thumb behind him, where Nelson and Wren trailed, Wren keeping herself tucked up close to Nelson and her face down. Of the three, Dom would be the obvious outlier. He’d been forced to wear the poncho to cover Noah, not a big issue as the boy was small and he was large, but the hood hiding his dreads was unusual and drawing unwanted interest.

  Thankfully most of the POE here tonight were more excited about the rally than the other attendees and kept themselves busy joking and jostling with their companions for the best spots to view the podium. They were pumped to be here, pumped to see Professor Red, to hear his message, to learn how they would earn their own land, home, and women.

  Coru gazed around, keeping his eyes peeled for any sign their presence was being questioned while gauging the distance between his team of interlopers and the podium. Nelson drew up close to him. “I’m thinking Red’s quarters are in the south west corner of the Quad, by the podium. Look how they guard it.”

  Coru glanced back to where he’d been considering their entrance point before Nelson showed up and nodded, then looked away, feigning interest in the ever-increasing crowd. There was a large lit up central pool, which, when he glimpsed its liquid surface around the milling crowd, sparkled with the lights. There was a walkway across the pond and this too held spectators, with a few being edged out, forced to step down into the shin-deep water and laughing, pulling more into the water with them.

  Looking around with feigned interest himself, Nelson muttered under his breath, “There are twice the POE there than the other three entry points. Once the rally is under way, we’ll find a way to get past them. Hopefully they’ll be enthralled with whatever Red has to say and will relax their attention.”