by Alex Siegel
She came forward with glowing hands and placed them on Aaron's thigh. The healing energy warmed his muscles, and the sensation washed away any lingering pain. He felt as good as new afterwards.
He stood up. "Thanks, both of you."
Major Hamilton opened the door and entered. He had taken off his white mask. His face was leathery and creased from many years spent as a soldier in the field. Blue eyes shone with hard-won wisdom.
"I heard you were wounded." Hamilton looked at Aaron's leg.
"Just a scratch," Aaron said. "It hardly bled at all."
Hamilton looked at Hess' unconscious form on the floor. "What happened to him?"
"He messed with the wrong woman. Don't worry about him. He's our prisoner. You can hand off the rest of the mercenaries to the FBI. Any casualties on your side?"
"One dead. Six injured. The bastards put up a stiff fight."
Aaron frowned. "I'm very sorry. You did a great service for me tonight, and I feel a responsibility to help you." He paused. "Can you keep a secret?"
"My entire life is a secret," Hamilton said.
"This is a different grade of secret. Bring your injured men to this room. We'll fix them up."
"How?"
"We have a special technique," Aaron said. "Trust me. Everybody will go home healthy."
Hamilton raised his eyebrows. He turned and walked off.
Smythe faced Aaron. "Are you serious, sir? We'll be performing miracles."
"We have a moral obligation," Aaron said. "They fought for us. One of them died for us. They've become our allies. This is a good example of why using outsiders can be complicated and problematic."
Odelia used her glowing hands to heal the swelling in Sheryl's face.
Sheryl closed her eyes and smiled dreamily. "That feels so nice. I'm still convinced you have the best gift ever."
Norbert walked in. He immediately ran over to Sheryl and gave her a hug. "Are you OK?"
"Fine, thanks." Sheryl gave Tawni a dirty look. "At least somebody cares."
"Your eyes are spooky. I heard you got a gift?"
"I make mirrors. Look down."
Everybody looked down. The floor had become a giant mirror, and several people jumped in surprise. It appeared they were floating in space. Abruptly, the mirror vanished.
Sheryl giggled.
"No more demonstrations," Aaron said. "We're here on business. Sheryl, you've been stuck here for more than a day. Have you learned anything useful?"
"I found a laboratory upstairs, sir," Sheryl said. "Blood is being drained out of people with the illness and fed to bed bugs."
Smythe furrowed his brow. "We need to go there next."
"Otherwise, I didn't see much. I walked all over and looked into every room. The place is dirty, old, and boring. It's just an ordinary factory that could use some refurbishing."
Hamilton returned with a large group of Delta Force operatives. The healthy ones were helping the injured ones walk, and two were on stretchers. Some of the wounds looked life-threatening.
"Good," Aaron said. "Let's take care of them one at a time."
Smythe and Norbert helped one of the injured soldiers into the room. He was bleeding from bullet holes in his right arm and shoulder. Cloth bandages were taped over the wounds. He sat on a chair.
Hamilton also entered the room.
"Please," Aaron said, "wait outside."
Hamilton shook his head. "Not a chance."
"You really shouldn't see this."
"I'm not going to let you do some crazy, mysterious thing to my man without me watching at least."
Aaron sighed. Hamilton's position was very reasonable.
"Fine," Aaron said, "just don't tell anybody what you saw here."
Tawni closed the door.
Aaron stood in front of the injured soldier. "Are you a brave man?"
The soldier nodded. "Yes."
His blond hair was cut very short. A scar ran through his right eyebrow.
"You'll have to be very brave now. Don't move. Don't flinch. Remain perfectly calm no matter what you see or feel. OK?"
"Yes, sir."
Aaron smiled and patted him on the good shoulder.
Smythe moved in and pulled off the bandages. Fresh blood leaked from ugly wounds. He pushed his hands into the soldier's body.
"What the fuck!" Hamilton said.
He leapt forward, and Aaron forced him back.
"Calm down," Aaron said. "Let the doctors do their work."
Odelia's entire body began to glow, and she put her hands on the soldier's back. He inhaled and stiffened.
He was shaking with obvious fear, but he remained still and calm. He was a credit to his uniform.
It took less than a minute for Smythe and Odelia to finish. They stepped away. The soldier's wounds were gone, and even the scar on his forehead had healed.
"How do you feel, son?" Aaron said.
The soldier moved his right arm around. "Good. Great!"
"I'm glad." Aaron smiled. "What just happened is top secret. Please step out of the room and send the next man in."
One by one, all the injured men were treated. Hamilton stared with wide eyes the entire time.
When it was over, he said, "Who the hell are you guys?"
"We're just like you, but the next level up." Aaron turned to Norbert and said, "Stay here with the prisoner. If he wakes up, make sure he doesn't go anywhere."
"Yes, sir," Norbert said.
Aaron looked at Sheryl. "Show us the laboratory. Major Hamilton, come with us, please. You'll want to see this."
Sheryl led the way with a confident walk. She obviously knew her way around. Aaron, Tawni, Smythe, Odelia, and Hamilton followed close behind.
The factory was large, but with Sheryl's guidance they made quick progress through the spacious rooms and wide corridors. Some of the walls were cracked and stained. Plain concrete was the primary construction material. Water was dripping from the roof in spots and creating puddles on the floor. The group climbed a flight of stairs and continued on.
They eventually entered a large, sophisticated laboratory. Aaron could tell that some of the machines were processing blood. There were beakers, test tubes, microscopes, and Bunsen burners. He walked over to a thing that looked like a giant pizza oven with many glass doors. He looked through the glass and saw a tray full of very tiny, brown bugs.
Smythe looked around and said, "We'll have to spend some time here. This is where the important work happened. I'm sure there are clues to be found."
"Come this way, first," Sheryl said.
She led the group into the next room.
"My God," Hamilton muttered.
A large number of naked men and women were bolted into steel harnesses. Their arms and legs were straight out, and they couldn't move an inch. Their hair and nails were badly overgrown. Liquids were flowing into their mouths through tubes, and Aaron guessed it was food and water. Other tubes went into the captives' anuses and urethrae. Needles in their arms were draining blood one drop at a time. The blood flowed into clear plastic bags, and some of the bags were full. Overly lean and muscular bodies indicated the men and women were infected.
Odelia ran to one of the female victims and quickly checked her vital signs.
"She's unconscious," Odelia said, "but I think she's OK."
Aaron faced Hamilton. "This is why we came here. These poor people are the source of the cannibalism plague. You can tell your men they did a great thing tonight."
"I will," Hamilton said.
"Please take your soldiers and your prisoners and go. My team has a lot of work to do here, and we'd rather not be disturbed."
"What will happen to them?" Hamilton looked at the unconscious men and women.
"We'll take care of them. Don't worry. Just leave, please. You've already seen much more than you should. I'm sure the President will thank you personally."
Hamilton nodded and left.
Smythe and Odelia immediately began
healing the captives. The healers shared Odelia's gift, and their bodies glowed so brightly Aaron had to turn away. It was like staring into the sun.
After each man or woman was healed, Aaron freed them from their harnesses and pulled the tubes out of their bodies. He placed them gently on the floor.
"Will they wake up?" Aaron said.
"Soon," Odelia said, "and they'll be very confused."
He nodded. "Tawni and Sheryl, your job is to take care of these people when they wake up. Find clothes for them. Work with Perry to get a bus. Drive them someplace safe and give them enough cash to get home. Hopefully, they still have homes."
"Yes, sir," Tawni said.
"I know where there are footlockers and duffle bags full of clothes," Sheryl said. "The mercenaries don't need them anymore."
"Good," Aaron said.
Smythe and Odelia eventually finished healing the captives. They and Aaron went back to the laboratory.
Aaron looked at the complicated equipment and frowned. Searching this place for clues was going to take a while.
Smythe and Odelia got to work.
* * *
Aaron yawned as he trudged through the snow. He, Smythe, Odelia, and Norbert were walking back to the van. The night was bitter cold despite their heavy winter clothing.
Aaron glanced back at Hess who was following behind. His arms were bound tightly behind his back. Aaron was holding a rope that went around Hess' neck, and Aaron was yanking him along like a dog on a leash.
The bedding factory was on fire. A column of flames and sparks was shooting high into the sky. By the time morning came, nothing would be left but shattered concrete, twisted metal, and ashes. The dead bodies had been stacked in the center of the building where the fire would be hottest.
"That was a big waste of time," Smythe muttered.
Aaron nodded. Despite a lengthy and meticulous search, the team had found no new clues of any value. The examination of the laboratory had merely confirmed facts that Smythe and Odelia already knew.
"At least we finished off Unit K, rescued Sheryl, and healed those captives," Aaron said. "And none of us got killed. Not a bad night's work."
He was deeply frustrated despite their modest success. The investigation had hit a wall, and he saw no way to overcome it. His real enemies were still out there. They could easily start another cannibal plague elsewhere using different henchmen. All Aaron knew about his opposition was they knew too much about the Gray Spear Society.
His gut was also telling him this crisis had something to do with the twins. He wished he could make the connection, but the answer was just out of reach.
He took out his phone and called Sheryl.
"Sir?" she said.
"What are you and Tawni doing?"
"We're at a motel. We're booking rooms for all the victims so they have someplace to stay tonight."
Aaron nodded. "Good. Go home when you're done. Get some sleep. We'll have a meeting first thing in the morning to discuss our next steps."
"Yes, sir."
He clipped his phone to his belt.
After a long hike through the frigid, dark night, they arrived at the blue van. It was parked behind a barn on a neighboring farm.
Everybody climbed in. Aaron was too sleepy to drive, so he let Smythe take the wheel. Hess was forced to lie on the hard floor. Aaron sat with his feet on Hess' back, pinning him down.
Smythe drove off.
* * *
The buzz in the underground command bunker was palpable. General Walker smiled at the eager faces of the officers and technicians. Months of planning, hard work, sacrifice, and outrageous expense were finally paying off. The mission was about to enter the next phase.
A small fleet of high-altitude, stealth surveillance drones was following the blue van through the outskirts of Chicago. The big screens at the front of the bunker showed clear views from several different angles. The details were crisp enough to read the license plate even at night.
"This is exciting!" Walker said.
He turned to Erika. She was lying in her brass bed in her enclosure. A heavy comforter covered her body, and large shapes were moving around under the blanket. Her male slaves were keeping her company.
Walker turned away. The woman had no modesty or shame at all. Pure, flagrant hedonism was her religion. Unfortunately, he was stuck with her.
"Just stay focused," she said. "A slip-up now would be disastrous. Our benefactors would have our hides."
Says the woman who is having sex with three men at once, he thought.
The blue van proceeded along highways and surface roads for most of an hour. Intense anticipation kept Walker from getting bored. He kept checking maps and speculating about the van's destination.
Eventually, it arrived at a large hotel. It went around to the back, drove down a ramp, and disappeared into an underground area.
"What is that place?" Walker yelled eagerly.
The technicians were already working with their computers.
"The Rosemont Tower Hotel," one said. "New construction, completed less than a year ago. Twenty stories. Luxury accommodations."
"Who owns it?"
"Mr. Terry Berrycloth, sole proprietor."
"And who is he?" Walker demanded.
He heard keyboards clattering.
"Well?" Walker said.
Finally, a technician said, "Unknown, sir."
"What the hell does that mean?"
"No information about Mr. Berrycloth is available, sir. I can't find a picture. There isn't even a phone number. All we know is that he owns a very expensive hotel."
Walker smiled so much his cheeks hurt. They were on the right track. The mysterious Mr. Berrycloth was possibly the local commander of the Gray Spear Society.
He turned to Erika. "What do you think?"
"I think you're going to visit that hotel tomorrow morning," she said. "Assess the situation with your own eyes."
He nodded and faced the screens again. The stealth drones were circling the hotel with their high-resolution cameras aimed at it. Even though the drones were miles up, the pictures were crystal clear. He saw a blue helicopter and two white sheds on the roof. The building was covered in seamless, brown glass. There was no architectural ornamentation, and it seemed designed to be anonymous.
This could be the headquarters of the Chicago cell, Walker thought. If so, it contains the big secret we're after.
* * *
A ringing sound jolted Smythe awake. He groped for the phone on his nightstand. Odelia was sleeping on his hand, which didn't help. The bedroom was dark. Finally, he managed to get the phone to his ear.
"Hello?" he said in a gruff voice.
"Is this Smythe?" a man said in a rich, foreign accent. He sounded Latin American.
"Maybe. Who are you?"
"I'm Barrichello, the commander of Cuiabá in Brazil. I was told to call you. We caught the man you seek."
"The scientist from the Biologically Enhanced Warfighter Initiative?" Smythe said groggily.
"Yes. A Doctor Holmes. He was working in a clinic deep in the jungle. Obviously, he didn't want to be found. We convinced him to cooperate, and now he's ready to answer your questions."
Smythe could tell that Odelia was awake and listening. He repositioned the phone so she could overhear.
"Put him on."
A tired, male voice said, "Hello? Who are you? What do you want with me?"
"I'll ask the questions, doctor," Smythe said. "Are you aware of what's happening in Chicago?"
"No. I've been living in the jungle."
"The bacteria you developed four years ago have infected hundreds, maybe thousands of people. They're turning into cannibals."
"Impossible," Homes said. "It's not contagious."
"The infection was intentional. We caught the people responsible last night."
"Oh." There was a pause. "But the bacteria are extremely difficult to culture under laboratory conditions."
"They
were using captive humans as petri dishes."
"That's horrible. And how were they infecting victims?" Homes said.
"Bed bugs hidden in sheets and blankets."
There was another pause. "This sounds like a very sophisticated operation, too sophisticated for ordinary terrorists."
"Indeed," Smythe said. "Why are you hiding in Brazil?"
"The other scientists from the Enhanced Warfighter Initiative were getting killed. I could tell I was next. I ran for my life."
"Do you know who was killing them?"
"I have no idea," Homes said.
"I can help you, but you have to tell the truth."
"I really don't know! I asked myself that question a thousand times. It could be the same people you caught in Chicago."
"It's not," Smythe said, "unfortunately."
Odelia put an arm across his chest and held him tightly.
"I wish I could help you," Homes said. "I don't like living in fear."
"Is there a treatment for the disease?"
"None that I know of. That's one reason we scrapped the project. Massive doses of antibiotics slow the progress, but once it gets deep in the muscles, there's nothing you can do."
"How many test subjects did you kill before you reached that conclusion?" Smythe said.
"Four," Homes replied softly.
Smythe grimaced. "Where did the bacteria come from?"
"We developed it in the lab. The biochemical pathways for muscle growth and stimulation are well known. It was just a matter of isolating the right genes and inserting them into a suitable intercellular parasite. We found the perfect one in the Amazon. The natural form infects Spider Monkeys. It's a distant cousin of legionella pneumophila."
Smythe frowned. "Nobody saw any strange lights or had an inspirational dream? You didn't hear voices telling you what to do?"
"What are you talking about?" Homes said. "Nobody heard voices. It was just years of hard work and careful research. I'm not proud of our accomplishment, but it was a scientific masterpiece."
That wasn't the answer Smythe wanted to hear. Without evidence that God's enemies were responsible, the Society's hands were tied.
"I need your help. People are dying in Chicago. Tell me something useful."
"I wish I could," Homes said. "The project ended years ago, and the files were buried deep in the Pentagon. We were officially told to forget it ever happened. I have no idea how anybody found out about it, or how they acquired samples of the bacteria. Whoever did this had access to highly classified material."