Point Apocalypse

by Alex Bobl

  "And McLean, he controls all the Fort deliveries. Plus the fishing boats. Plus the port," Lars gave Georgie and Grunt an angry look, "And now he's the only one with a ferry boat. No problem, we can always build another one. But it'll take time..."

  "Listen, King," Grunt shrugged. "It wasn't our fault, really. No good crying over spilt milk..."

  Lars spat and didn't finish. I was itching to find out who he really was and why Grunt called him King. Instead, I asked,

  "Why are you telling me all this?"

  I was racking my brains for any scrap of information about Lars Swenson. But it didn't look as if the Feds had supplied me with any.

  "I'll tell you in a minute. You eat," he shifted on the log stretching out his legs. "Where was I?"

  "McLean," I said. "He wants a larger piece of the cake. Don't know why yet."

  "Exactly," Lars looked at Jim who was busy raking the coals to bake a large, tasty-looking fish packed in clay and ashes. "McLean is just a gangster who played his cards right. Has anyone told you about the pandemic?"

  I nodded.

  "Thing was," Lars Swenson glanced into his empty mug, "with that pandemic, that's when it all started. A lot of people fled New Pang then. McLean did the right thing, I have to admit. He organized those still in town and made them believe they'd survive the pestilence. He ruled the city with an iron fist, though. No mercy for the infected. He burned them. Burned them alive, imagine. Locked them in their homes and..."

  He fiddled with his empty mug. "Naturally, we gave shelter to the fugitives. We stopped working and set up a quarantine camp. And once the pandemic was over, McLean declared himself the lord of New Pang. Never mind all those who'd built the city - loggers, farmers, oil riggers, free raiders... even clones had added their two cents' worth of labor. Lots of people had invested in it, so no wonder many wanted to go back. But once they did come back," he raised a warning finger, "McLean waited a bit and lay down the law. He charged them three times the old price for everything: their houses that weren't his to begin with, the right of passage, the jetties... This was when we founded the Confederation. All Continent settlers signed a friendly agreement. We had to meet McLean halfway in certain things so he demanded compensation for fire prevention and street cleaning. His men did shift shit from our streets, you have to give them that. Now he's building a water pipeline. Highly commendable."

  He paused. "You see, the thing is, McLean wants to bite off more than he can chew. Now he taxes everyone he can lay his hands on. He wants to control our estuary gate where we charge a toll for the riggers' oil tanks and farmers' food barges on their way to New Pang."

  He must have misunderstood my stare because he added, "What do you want? They won't transport it by land. Gas stocks won't last forever so everyone's trying to go easy on them."

  "Yeah," I twiddled with my spoon. "I still can't see why you're telling me all this."

  "Eh," Lars froze open-mouthed. He shook his head and added, "Never mind. Get on with your food."

  I finished off their soup in no time, wiped the spoon with the edge of the tarp and gave it back to the logger.

  "It was good," I said to Jim, "thanks a lot."

  He nodded.

  Lars put the spoon back in his boot. "Ready to go on?"

  "If you tell me why."

  The logger frowned and scratched his cheek. "I want you to help us."

  "How exactly?" I hadn't expected him to say that. "I've got nothing. I only arrived here yesterday. I nearly died!"

  He felt my shoulder, squeezing the muscle. "Nothing hurts?"

  I shook my head.

  "Feel okay?"

  "I think so."

  "Then you owe me one," He let go of my arm. "What're you looking at? We spent two vials of serum to set you right. Any idea how much that costs?"

  "I see," I nodded. "So what's your problem?"

  Lars looked over the men by the fire.

  "I... what was I saying?"

  "The pandemic," I offered.

  "Right. So everything seemed to be fine. The disease was gone," he sighed. "I'm sure we'd have found a way to arrange it all with McLean, but... Things got a bit rough on the Continent."

  "As if they were ever easy," Georgie murmured.

  Lars shot him an angry glance. "Two years ago, there was quite a bit of commotion in the Fort. You tell me - you being in the Army and all that - what do you know about the generals' coup? Eh?"

  Now we'd come to the interesting bit. I shrugged. "All I know is that one of the generals escaped to Pangea with his men."

  "He did, he did," Lars reached under his collar and scratched his hairy chest. "They sent some troops after him. There was some action on the coast. The Fort reported that the defectors had been eliminated. We didn't even know about the coup then. We learned about it later from new arrivals. Things subsided after that but," he frowned as if searching for words. "How can I explain..."

  "Just spit it out," I said. "It's not as if we're pressed for time."

  "Okay. Here's the lay of the land. On one side, there's us, plus the oil riggers and the farmers. On the other side, there's McLean. We have more guns but he controls the city where our families live."

  "Which is how he can blackmail you," I butted in. "Your women and children."

  "You're thinking in the right direction. But he won't live long after that, and he knows it. He won't have the guts to take our families hostage. He doesn't have enough men. The moment isn't right."

  "So what's the problem, then?"

  "It's the clones," he paused. "Not even..."

  "The clones. They don't mix much with humans, do they?"

  "They don't. They moved east a long time ago. Everyone treats them like dirt, anyway. We've lost all contact with them."

  "Why east?"

  "They were sent there to drain the swamps. I don't care, let them stay there. Less mouths to feed," he sighed and went on. "But some time ago, they paid a visit to the farmers and you know what they did?" he shook his head, unbelieving. "They must have been famished out of their minds. They sent a messenger to tell the farmers they had a week to vacate their lands or the clones would destroy the crops and burn their farms. The farmers turned to the oil riggers for help, seeing as they were camped nearby. The riggers sent a party to..."

  "Wait a sec. Where are their farms?"

  "In the north. South from the swamps."

  "I told you, didn't I?" said Georgie. "Remember the diagram?"

  "I do," I nodded. "It's next to the City of Forecomers." I rested my elbows on my knees and turned to Lars. "I still don't quite understand the situation, though. Why are the farms so important?"

  "Without them, we're dead meat. We'd starve."

  "We wouldn't," Georgie cringed. "We-" He shrunk under Lars' stare and looked to Grunt for support. But Grunt turned away pretending he was studying the tattoo on his shoulder.

  "Oh yes we would," Lars barked. "McLean's hauls aren't enough for everyone. Also, some fish here is not good for you."

  He turned to me to explain that not all Pangean foods were edible. Some didn't agree with Earth-based life leading to toxicity and death. That's why Neumann had brought with him some animals, plant seeds and equipment. And some top-of-the-range biologists. And when they'd looked into Pangea's wildlife, they discovered that all the Earth's organisms they had introduced were mutating. Different species changed at different speeds, but they did mutate, and that included man. According to Neumann's research, first traces of mutation in humans took ten generations to manifest themselves. We wouldn't live to see it.

  "Our fruit and meat is barely enough for us alone," Lars glanced at Georgie who was shrinking with the logger's every word. "So who is there left? The farmers, of course. There's only one place on the Continent suitable for growing Earthly crops. You know that as well as I do."

  Georgie looked as if he wanted the earth to swallow him up. Lars drove another nail into his coffin,

  "Looks like we gonna starve if the clones
stick to their word."

  You could cut the silence with a knife. I raised my head and watched the sparks escaping from the fire. A quiet buzzing attracted my attention. I checked the dark gray sky above, turned and noticed a swarm of midges hovering around Wladas' head. He slept where he sat, nose down in his lap, oblivious to the world.

  "Don't you think?" Lars glared at Georgie.

  Georgie mumbled something. I said, "Let's get back to the point. How can the clones stick to their word, as you say? Are they really so numerous and well-armed?"

  "I like the way you think," Lars slapped his cheek and squashed a midge between his fingers. "No, they aren't numerous at all. But they're not alone. They serve as a smoke screen for someone."

  "Who is?-"

  He lowered his voice. "Cyber troopers."

  Georgie and Grunt exchanged surprised glances. Wong stood up; Jim froze for a moment, reaching for the baked fish. Wladas alone didn't budge, sniffling in his sleep.

  "They have to be," Lars buried his mug in his broad hands. "They killed the riggers' volunteers who were marching to join forces with the farmers."

  "If they killed them, how did you find out about it?" I glanced at Wong who was all ears.

  "The cybers let one rigger go. He told us about it. So I think," Lars paused, "the Fort gave us the wrong information to begin with. The traitors weren't eliminated. They're somewhere here, on the Continent. They've been lying low for a while, and now they seem to 've started to stir. But it all looks a bit too complex. What do they want from us? We're not their enemies, surely they understand that?"

  I glanced at Wong, and he gave me a barely perceptible nod. The only person on Pangea capable of controlling cyber troopers was General Varlamov himself. And if so...

  "It was just a demonstration," I sat up. "To show you what you were up against."

  If the general had taken action, it meant I had little to no time. But the only person who knew of his future plans was Neumann.

  "You're a soldier yourself," Lars poked me with his finger. "Can you tell us how to stop those cyber motherfuckers? If we can stop them at all?"

  Okay. Now I knew what they needed me for. Lars Swenson was afraid - not so much for himself but for the city and his family in it. Ditto for McLean - that's what he'd meant when he said he wouldn't surrender New Pang to anyone. It was fear. They're all afraid, each in their own way, of the force that comes from the east. And they were right to be afraid. The best thing they could do was to unite, but it didn't work like that. McLean kept his own counsel, so he wouldn't risk everything for the loggers' sake as they hated him, anyway... So apparently, the general was using Pangean clan war in his own interests. He manipulated the clones while in fact targeting the farmers. But why? What did they have there on their lands?

  The Information chirruped in my head. The map of the Continent gleamed into view flashing numbers: settlement population, surface area, weapon inventory, etc. It looked like the riggers in their camp deep in the Continent could, in theory, stand up to Varlamov's soldiers. As for the farmers...

  "We can stop them," I said quickly, estimating the advantages of our conversation. Now I could ask Lars for some food, guns and a car. Neumann had to be where the soldiers were. "If we disrupt their communications, we'll disable their control center."

  Lars seemed to have expected to hear something like that.

  "You think you could do that?" he gave me an intent look.

  "Well," I pretended I was thinking, "risking my ass to-"

  "Remember," the logger boomed, "you owe us one. Help us and we'll give you whatever you want. A house in New Pang, the best food, an interest-free loan for your future business. A car and house staff..."

  "Enough," I raised my hand. "What guarantees do I have?"

  "The word of the King of the Patch," Lars rose from his log and offered a broad hand.

  Georgie and Grunt started nodding to me. Jim bit his lip, starry-eyed.

  I lived up to their expectations. "Okay," I rose and shook King's hand. "I will need men though, and also..."

  "You have it."

  For a few moments, we looked each other in the eye.

  "So," I started carefully, trying not to overdo it. I had to admit I was going a bit too far. But Lars had already turned to the sailors ordering them to return to the camp to prepare the raiders' gear and weapons, and then to go back to the river check the boat's motor and tank her up.

  Grunt and Georgie rose in silence and headed for the trees. Jim stayed behind to serve up the baked fish. He placed two plates in front of us and left, too.

  "I think I did the right thing about the boat, don't you think?" Lars said passing me a plate. He shook Wladas awake and told him to fill our mugs. "Much quicker by river."

  I gave it some thought and nodded. "I'd also like a bit of money to buy a car. You think I can get a good one from the riggers?"

  "You might. Money I can give you, and ammo, but as for men..." he faltered.

  "I'll take Grunt, Georgie and Jim," I spoke. "They're out of a job, anyway. It'll take you some time to build another ferry. Georgie used to be a raider once, so he knows the area well. Grunt is a genius with boats. Jim is young and strong. Plus Wladas and Wong, of course," I shoved a spoonful of fish into my mouth and added, "They and I, we're literally in one boat. We're comrades in misery."

  Wladas, still sleepy and clueless, blinked and nearly spilled his mug. He grabbed it just in time and closed the flask. Lars stared at the fire, pensive.

  "Okay," he finally said. "You should sail off at dawn but make it look as if you're going back to New Pang. Grunt will take her along the bayous to bypass the tollgate. This way, no one will know you're going into the Continent. Full steam ahead once you pass the tollgate. The straits are wide enough there."

  Lars turned to Wladas, reconsidered and looked back at me. "No one will know your true objectives. Not even my men."

  "Understood."

  "On the river, you'd better listen to what Grunt says. But in action, you're the one with the orders. Also... If you get hold of the cybers' weapons, we can always use them."

  He took his mug from Wladas and took a big gulp before attacking his fish.

  "You know what you were saying about all those plants," I set my plate aside. "You said not all food here in Pangea was edible. Does it mean that people used to get poisoned? Still do?"

  "Sure," he mumbled with a full mouth. "McLean's divers snuff it all the time."

  Wong came to the fire, picked up his share and sat opposite us. Wladas, finally awake, stood up and started to massage a stiff back.

  "Has anyone survived?" I asked after a moment's thought. "I mean, I have."

  "No!" Lars exclaimed. "That's the whole thing! You're the first! The serum only helps if injected directly after the infection. Do it a minute later, and your chances drop by half. After two minutes," he shook his head, "you're fish bait."

  I looked at my hand. The cut was almost gone. Curiouser and curiouser.

  The night covered the rainforest. The fire crackled sending sparks flying into the air buzzing with midges. From time to time, something rustled in the thickets or a bird crowed in a tree.

  When Lars finished his fish and got up, I said,

  "Take you, for instance. How come you know Russian so well? You've got a Scandinavian name."

  Lars glanced at me sideways. "My mother was an Inkeri from the North West of Russia. I left her when I was twenty and moved to my father in Sweden. Started earning good money felling wood. Three years later I returned to get her and..."

  "And what?" I looked up at him.

  "She was denied clearance. So I went and roughed up the Consul real good. Then they nailed me."

  "Was it a long time ago?"

  "Quite," he turned and walked away saying, "You'd better sleep in the hut. There's a thunderstorm brewing."

  His large silhouette disappeared among the trees. We heard, "Don't worry about the wildlife. My men will watch over you. They'll wake y
ou up in good time."

  Part Two

  Mind Games

  Chapter One

  The River

  The thunderstorm came at midnight. Amid blinding light, claps of thunder rattled the hut. The roof did little to stop the downpour and rainwater was soon running down the ceiling. I rolled myself up in the tarp trying to sleep, but the noise kept me awake.

  The rain stopped. The air grew sultry. It clung to your throat preventing you from breathing, thick with sweat and the liquor breath emitted by Grunt and Georgie who snored away next to me. Neither them nor Wladas seemed to be affected by the thunderstorm.

  Finally, I gave up and got out. I curled up outside by the hut door and dozed off for an hour or two until Jim arrived to wake us up.

  A few minutes later, we all walked down a trail toward the river. The rainforest was waking up filling the path with animal noises and bird calls. The dawn shone through the leafy branches. My head was buzzing with the lack of sleep and I kept reaching for the water flask packed by Jim. One time I lost my footing and nearly stepped into a young termite mound. Georgie pushed me away just in time and twirled his finger around his temple. According to him, they were not deadly but would guarantee an itch from hell for the best part of next week.

  We took a narrow trail to the river, following in each other's steps. Jim, Grunt and Wong had gone in front. I stopped and raised my wounded hand to my eyes. It was warm, and the pain pulsating in my forearm was quite bearable.

  "You okay?" Wladas asked.

  "Yeah," I splashed some water onto the wound and clenched my fist a couple times watching the reddened scar. Then I looked up.

  Two enormous steel structures loomed over the river bed. They reminded me of the Maunsell fort towers used in the Second World War for anti-aircraft protection. Quite a few of them still stood in British shores. But these had no trace of rust, their meter-thick supports smooth and intact. The armored forts were solid without a single rivet or seam. A hanging walkway connected the two - definitely man's work, but the towers themselves had to be Forecomers' creations. A tall rod stuck out of one of the forts, exactly the same as the one I'd seen near New Pang. The top of it pulsated with a bright white light bathing the river and its banks in its soft glow.