Plague Years (Book 3): This Thing of Darkness I Acknowledge Mine

by Rounds, Mark

  “They were fighting with knives and stones at the end,” said Ngengi angrily. “We can take them if we rush them again.”

  “Maybe,” said Macklin nodding, “Probably. But we don’t have thirty effectives left. There is no way we can get the research materials out of this building before dawn. Then they will have air cover and their convoy will likely be back to pick up the survivors. We should go. We’ll need every foot soldier we can muster if we are going to take over some other place to finish this work.”

  “Very well,” said Ngengi, more in control. “What should we do next?”

  “Get them loaded in the busses,” said Macklin. “If we can’t get the busses out of the garage, burn them. Set fire to everything else. I want a head start and I don’t want to leave any transport in working order. Leave behind everything that is not essential for defending ourselves, save the research papers and data files. We need to move light for the next few days.”

  “What about the wounded?” asked Ngengi.

  “Bring them if they can be moved,” said Macklin after a moment’s hesitation. “We’ll need them soon enough.”

  “That too, is different,” said Ngengi thoughtfully. “We would have just shot them before.”

  “Many things will have to change to survive in this new world,” said Macklin. “See to the loading.”

  Ngengi began organizing the loading. Macklin took one more pass through the abandoned lab space. He spied a white baggy in a corner, as though it had fallen off of a larger load and then got kicked into a corner. Macklin picked it up and opened it. The crystallization was wrong for Slash. From the surveillance video, it looked about right for Strickland’s new wonder drug. Macklin slipped it into his shirt front and buttoned it up. He would have time to look at it later.

  July 16th, Thursday, 7:18 am PDT

  Command center in the Commons building at the University of Idaho, Moscow ID

  Chad awoke with a start. He had obviously dozed at his desk listening to the reports from the Spokane attack. When his brother had called, the tension had been released and he had taken a nap. Now the sat phone was flashing and demanding his attention.

  “Strickland,” said a groggy Chad.

  “It’s Andy Antonopoulos,” said the voice on the other end.

  “Yes, General,” said Chad who began trying to sit more erect and tuck in his shirt despite the fact that no one could see him. Chad was conscious of the fact that he had promised to speak to the General on his brother’s behalf, but hadn’t put his plan into motion.

  “I’m asking a personal favor this time, Chad,” said Antonopoulos. “Can you talk some sense into your brother? He is insisting that he be allowed to return to Moscow to continue his work. We tried to tell him that resources, not to mention security would be better at Fort Lewis but he is resistant. Can you help me?”

  “Sir,” began Chad choosing his words carefully. “I don’t think I can for two reasons. The first is, he is my older brother and has never really listened to what I say. Secondly, I think I agree with him.”

  “How is that?” asked a surprised Antonopoulos. “We have far more in the way of resources and security here than you can muster in Moscow. You were always a smart character, what am I missing here?”

  “The first point is logistical,” said Chad. “His graduate students are here and most have local connections. Moving all those folks would be difficult and probably stall his work.”

  “We made it clear that we could move them,” said Antonopoulos. “Besides, if he were here, we could ramp up production …”

  “The second reason,” said Chad interrupting his commanding officer, “is that he is taking the long view.”

  “Again,” said Antonopoulos, “what am I missing?”

  “He and I are concerned,” said Chad, “that the bulk of the region’s resources are being concentrated in the Fort Lewis area.”

  “But that’s only for the emergency,” said Antonopoulos, “once things get back to normal, resources will flow more evenly.”

  “Sir,” said Chad, “I actually think you believe that. But look at this country’s history. It took many years for the seat of power, the focus of finance, and industrial production to move away from the east coast.

  “Today, America’s logistical system is broken. It will take years if not decades for it to be restored. That will feed into the natural tendency for government and commercial interests to stay centralized. But that is the one thing we must not do. The Plague will be scattered around the country in pockets for many years. The country folks will get the reputation of being ‘unclean’ and diseased’ even though they will likely be more focused on staying free of the disease than city folk. To get the economy on its feet faster, we need to nip this in the bud.

  “Cities will need the agricultural products generated out in the country and for a long time, the rural population will be small unless you can convince city dwellers to go into the country to seek their fortune.

  “Short term, there will be an incremental advantage in having Robert’s development near Fort Lewis, but I ask you, how often are flights going back and forth now?”

  “Pretty much daily right now,” said Antonopoulos, “to reduce resource consumption, I hope to throttle that back to once a week.”

  “For which you will need a land route,” said Chad. “Grain can’t be shipped via air for any length of time, it’s too resource intensive. There was an east west split in Washington before the Plague based on allocation of resources. Once things settle down, this action will only throw grease on that fire.”

  “So, you want me to send him back?” asked Antonopoulos, “when there isn’t a clear road yet?”

  “You brought me here in a Chinook,” said Chad. “In my view, this is every bit as important as having an intel shop in place. We need to start normalizing this before harvest, moving fuel and machine parts out to the country and getting grain and other foodstuffs moved back in. If we let it wait until next year, crop yields will be significantly reduced.”

  “Is that a threat?” asked Antonopoulos.

  “Absolutely not,” said Chad quickly. “I was an analyst before the Plague and I’m still in that mind set. We don’t have enough fuel to pump water, let alone harvest or irrigate. Agricultural methods will rapidly deteriorate to something on a par with the 1860s if we don’t act. People will become insular and the problem of getting production back up to support cities will be an order of magnitude worse.”

  “That is what they paid you for before the Plague,” said Antonopoulos in a more thoughtful mood. “You thought this all up by yourself?”

  “Not really,” said Chad relaxing as it was clear the Antonopoulos was going along with his discussion, “Bob helped. But ask around. He was always considered the smarter brother.”

  Chapter 19

  July 16th, Thursday, 2:21 pm PDT

  Front Gate, Joint Base Fort Lewis-McChord, Tacoma WA

  “Stand back from the gate!” shouted the Spec Four on duty from behind a wall of sandbags.

  “Look,” said Little Bear using up his limited store of patience. “I just need to speak to Amber Hoskins. It’s important.”

  “Stand away from the gate!” shouted the soldier as he trained his weapon on Little Bear and his disreputable truck. Then he spoke more kindly. “We have folks coming to the gate every day looking for lost relatives. I will inform the officer of the day and they will compare it with the list of personnel on base.”

  “How long will that take?” asked Little Bear.

  “Maybe a day,” said the soldier. “Can you come back tomorrow?”

  “Shit!” shouted Little Bear, “I don’t have enough gas to get around the block!”

  “Stand away from the gate,” said the soldier, “I’ll have some food and water laid out for you a little later on, but you’ve gotta understand. We get these requests every day. It’s gonna take time.”

  “Patience, Little Bear,” said the old woman from the cab.
“I have a feeling things will happen faster than he thinks. Come sit in the truck and we’ll wait.”

  Twenty minutes passed and suddenly there was a staff car behind the gate being escorted by a Stryker. Troops spilled out of the Stryker and formed a defense around the gate. Then a Navy Captain in khakis walked out into the dead space.

  “My name is Captain Lassiter,” said the Captain. “I understand you want to speak to Amber Hoskins. Can you tell me why I should allow it? Are you family of hers?”

  Little Bear started to get out of the cab but the old woman who had ridden all the way from the outskirts of Spokane in this rickety old truck bade him wait.

  “Let me speak,” said the old woman. Little Bear retreated and then she spoke to the military personnel in a louder voice.

  “I have had many names young man,” said the old woman. “The one I have used the longest is Zhao Hede. Some of your bright young officers will look this up. I was consort to the Chinese Emperor Cheng. Before that I was a simple farm girl, helping my father tease out the mysteries of rice farming. You hold one known to me, Nergüi is his common name. Amber is holding him at bay, but the task is beyond her if she continues too long. Ask her if I am not correct.”

  “I don’t have to,” said Lassiter. “I was with her during Nergüi’s last escape attempt. What I have to make sure of though, is that you are not trying some sort of trick to free Nergüi. He is powerful in ways we do not fully understand. I can only imagine how powerful his allies might be.”

  “I know her!” said a voice form the back of the Stryker. Everyone turned and looked as Amber climbed down. Chris hopped out right behind her, shotgun in hand.

  “Is she the one you briefed me on?” asked Lassiter quietly while eyeing Zhao doubtfully. “You think she has the ability to keep Nergüi under control? She doesn’t look like she can control a kitten.”

  “I hear better than you think, young man,” said Zhao with amusement. “I could enter your mind like Nergüi did and show you, but that is not our way.”

  “I apologize,” said Lassiter quickly. “I am known for my intemperate remarks. However, this is significant. Nergüi is clever and relentless and has caused much harm.”

  “More than you know,” said Zhao who paused for a moment. “I am here to take him away to a place where he can do no harm.”

  “Where is this place?’ asked a suspicious Lassiter.

  “How would knowing its location reduce your unease?” asked Zhao.

  “We would know where to send the bombers,” said Lassiter with a smile, “if he gets the best of you.”

  “Just so,” said Zhao. “We do not condone killing as a way to solve problems. We have been too guilty of that in the past. We won’t kill him. It will be our focus keep him safe and stop him from hurting people. Logically, it would be simpler to quickly kill him but we have come too far to go back to that way anymore. Will you turn him over to us?”

  “I can’t authorize that,” said Lassiter.

  “But I can,” said General Antonopoulos who had arrived unnoticed. “The question is, should I?”

  “He will eventually break free if you let him live,” said Zhao, “and while this young lady could keep him under control given time, she doesn’t have that commodity. Eventually, you will either have to kill him, which will be more difficult than you know, or he will escape. We will keep him out of communication with the rest of the world until he can do no more damage.”

  “You don’t think we can successfully interrogate him then,” asked Antonopoulos, “even with Amber’s gift?”

  “I don’t think we could interrogate him successfully,” said Zhao. “He will lie at every opportunity and he can conceal his falsehoods most of the time. The value of anything he gives you will be limited at best. Please, let us take him.”

  “I would go with them,” said Amber walking forward. “I will ensure he never is a hazard again.”

  “But are you safe from them?” asked Antonopoulos.

  “Safer with them than I am on this base with Nergüi here in your custody,” said Amber. “I can feel his malignancy and their benign concern. We both know this isn’t working. Turning that young revolutionary Hector was child’s play compared to this convoluted game I would have to play in his mind, and I don’t even know the tools to use! Please, let’s get him away from these good people.”

  “I wish I could,” said Antonopoulos after a moment’s hesitation. “I have read the reports and looked at the resources we are expending keeping him here. But I am also reminded of my duty as an officer in the US military.

  “If he were in the field, actively opposing me, I would kill him before he killed me. But he is our captive and as such we undertook an obligation to protect him when we captured him. I can’t kill him out of hand just because he is difficult to handle. Perhaps we could try him for the deaths in his previous escape attempt, but current case law does not recognize his sort of mental ‘influence’ so likely he would not be convicted.

  “Even though I am convinced of your good intentions, I can’t release him. He is my problem now, like it or not.”

  “That puts us in an awkward position,” said Zhao. “We know far more than you about how to keep him controlled. Yet the fact that you have accepted a dangerous responsibility, more dangerous than you know, speaks well for you. It is a reminder why our kind has failed.”

  “If you can’t release Nergüi,” said the old man with piercing blue eyes, “can we assist you? Perhaps we would stay with you a while to help you control him? Perhaps we can build a bond of trust so that we could eventually take him away.”

  “We would be happy to provide you quarters,” said Antonopoulos, “and we can engage in negotiation over how to work together. Much more until we know each other better might be risky, but I am encouraged by this.”

  “This is certainly a surprise,” said Zhao looking at her traveling partner, “and at my age, I didn’t think that was possible.”

  “Perhaps it is time for our caution to be moderated somewhat,” said the old man with a smile. “We have already passed the cusp of the decision. In exposing ourselves to these good people, we have also exposed ourselves to the adversary. We are now all in this together!”

  July 16th, Thursday, 1:51 pm PDT

  Command center in the Commons building at the University of Idaho, Moscow ID

  Major Dave Tippet had come into Chad’s office in the Commons. Together, they were trying to make some notes for an after-action report while events were still fresh in their minds. Just then, the sat phone buzzed.

  “Strickland,” said a distracted Chad.

  “Macklin here,” said the voice on the other end. “I know how long it takes to trace one of these calls and I am working through a number of proxies so don’t try it.”

  “Now why would I do that?” said a suddenly alert Chad as he turned on the speaker in the office. On his desk pad he wrote:

  Start a trace!

  Then he pushed it over to Dave who nodded and momentarily left the room. Chad flicked the switch that turned on the recorder.

  “I wonder?” said Macklin sarcastically. “But I have little time so let’s cut through the banter. There has been a lot of history between us, but it wasn’t personal.”

  “Like fun it wasn’t,” said Chad with sudden anger. “I watched a good man kill himself because you purposefully infected him and then tortured him with a taser. It will be a long time before I forget that.”

  “I didn’t order that,” said Macklin, “there were others.”

  “Whom we have in custody,” said Chad. “Now it’s just a matter of time before we find you too.”

  “That’s what I want to talk about,” said Macklin.

  There was a noise at the door of the office. Chad looked up to see Dave and Colonel Amos entering the room.

  “Trace?” mouthed Chad as he covered the phone.

  Dave nodded and made a ’stretch it out’ motion” with his hands. Chad nodded.

&
nbsp; “OK, I’m listening,” said Chad. “Convince me.”

  “I’m a thousand miles away from you right now,” said Macklin. “As you say, my boss is in the slammer. I have the means to survive, thanks to your brother’s work, without his assistance. I won’t ever have to do his dirty work again. Let me go. I promise to never enter Washington or Idaho again. You have a lot of work to do just to survive as do I. I propose a non-aggression pact as we both have more than enough to do without chasing each other. What do you say?”

  Dave motioned furiously for the headset. Chad, knowing the look in his eye, passed it over to him.

  “This is Major David Tippet, USMC, you know me,” said Dave. It was not a question.

  “I know you,” said Macklin warily.

  “Here is the deal I am offering you,” said Dave. “You run and hide and you keep running. If I ever catch wind of you ever again, I will hunt you down and kill you. It won’t be the slow painful death you keep promising people. I’m a professional, so one minute, you’ll be alive, maybe even relaxing because you think you have dodged me. The next minute, you’ll be dead. It might be that the car you are driving explodes, or maybe your head bursts from a rifle shot, but it will be sudden and unexpected. Live with that and get out of my sight.”

  “Why are you even telling me?” asked Macklin who was clearly scared but also curious.

  “I wonder a little myself,” said Dave with a chuckle, “save for the fact that I have been a warrior and a soldier most of my adult life. Death is easy, it’s life that hard. That’s where the Stricklands come in. They have been my conscience since the beginning of the plague. There is a darkness in my heart that is there to stay. But these good folks have shown me there is more to life than that. Still the words of William Shakespeare in the Tempest, when Prospero is speaking with Caliban ring true, ‘This thing of darkness I acknowledge mine.’ That hole in my heart is waiting. If I never see or hear from you again, it will continue to go wanting. Tempt me, and that hole will swallow you up!”