AntiBio: A Post Apocalyptic Thriller

by Bible, Jake

  “I can’t do that, but I can start where I came in,” Red says. “When I was tossed out on my ass.”

  Ton waits, but when Red doesn’t start he looks over at the man and sees he’s holding back tears.

  “Jesus, Red, what the hell happened?” Ton asks.

  “First, let me destroy everything you know about GenSOF,” Red says. “When we first joined all those years ago we thought we were just ordinary citizens whose genetics matched a certain profile, right?”

  “Right,” Ton nods as they move forward with the rest of the operators fanned out around them, all alert for signs of life. Unfortunately, they only come across dismembered corpses, the bodies having been blown apart by direct static blasts.

  “That part is true,” Red says. “What isn’t true is that GenSOF was created to battle Cooties and keep the Sicklands’ routes safe from Clean Nation city to Clean Nation city. And to Control. That is only a side effect.”

  “How is that a side effect?” Ton asks. “We’ve both seen enough battles to know that all that stands between the Clean Nation cities and the dangers of the Sicklands is GenSOF.”

  Red stops and looks at Ton, his eyes heavy and sad. “Man, we are the dangers,” Red says. “To everyone. The bacterial loads we carry? They weren’t designed to keep us safe from the hellish Strains while we are out in this shit. They were designed to spread in the Sicklands and take down the Cooties. We aren’t a fighting force, Ton, we’re a plague.”

  “Come on…what?” Ton says. “What does that mean?”

  “We are experiments, Ton,” Red says. “Living breathing experiments. And once the bacteria in us has reached a certain stage we are set loose, thrown out into the Sicklands for us to do as much damage as possible. We become GenWrecks not because we have outlived our usefulness, but because we have just obtained it. If Cooties come in contact with us, we spread our new bacteria to them. Some live, but most die. Control is using us to clear out the Sicklands.”

  “Why?” Ton asks. “I mean, I get why, sure, but why keep it all a secret? If the Cooties are wiped out then we can retake the Sicklands. Civilization can move beyond the Clean Nation cities. Life can start again without fear of the Strains.”

  “Keep walking,” Red says, moving off again. “I’ll try to make it easy. Lord knows it wasn’t easy for me.”

  He takes a deep breath and begins again.

  “We moved up together in GenSOF, Ton,” Red continues. “Saw a lot of the same shit. Then we were transferred into different squads and kinda lost touch. Last you saw of me was when your squad came to decommission me, right?”

  “Yeah,” Ton says. “And we both know why. Her.”

  “Her. Right,” Red says. “That’s part of it, man. But I wasn’t killed, just sent to Control. Luckily, she was there. She kept the researchers from doing their worst, but she couldn’t be there for me always. Months went by, years. Then someone else stepped in. An AiSP.”

  “Worm, right? But how?” Ton asks.

  “Worm is different,” Red says, he looks over his shoulder back at the transport. “He isn’t as one dimensional as other AiSPs. Somewhere along the line, he became something more. And whatever he became didn’t like what Control was doing. So whenever he could, he reached out to me while I was held captive like a lab rat. He started telling me bits and pieces of the truth. He was the one that helped me escape, and spring some others from Control. Then once out here we found other GenWrecks. Those that hadn’t lost their minds. Or been lobotomized and sent out as bacteria bombs. It’s sick, just sick.” He taps his wrist. “Worm had us take out our PSCs so we couldn’t be tracked like the others, couldn’t be analyzed for the ongoing experiment.”

  “Worm did all that?” Ton asks. “But what does that have to do with Blaze and Ms. Cale? Or for this resistance?”

  “Let me tell you what I know,” Red says. “And this isn’t everything. Worm is holding back. A lot. I don’t know what he’s holding back, but the resistance is only a small part of the overall picture.”

  “I’ve got a breather!” Collette shouts.

  The operators converge on the body and Paulo kneels close, checking the man’s vital signs.

  “Low pulse, barely breathing,” he says. He lifts the man’s eyelids and shakes his head. “Pupils are blown. He’s alive, but there’s nothing in there.”

  “Stand off,” Red says. He shoulders his own rifle and takes aim.

  “Whoa!” Ton shouts. “What are you doing?”

  “Showing mercy,” Red says and fires. The wounded man’s head is obliterated. “He may have been breathing, but he was dead. We can’t take him with and we can’t leave him for the Cooties.”

  “Jesus,” Ton says.

  “Not much of him around here,” Marco says. “Nor Buddha or Mohammed. Not even the Static God. Just us GenWrecks.”

  “Keep searching,” Red says, pointing to the dozens of other bodies.

  “You didn’t stop to actually save anyone, did you?” Ton asks.

  “Not really,” Red says. “We’ve been hit by Clean Guard before.” He pats his old rifle. “We are outgunned. We stay low. It’s why you know nothing about GenWrecks except for what wild stories you are told. We pop our heads up and we get them shot off.”

  “Then why help us?” Paulo asks. “Why risk that?”

  “We weren’t helping you specifically,” Red says. “We were helping Sergeant Crouch. He was the target.”

  “And this has to do with Worm too, right?” Ton asks.

  “Yeah,” Red replies. He points at the bodies again and Coffin squad move out, but Paulo stays close.

  “What did I miss?” Paulo asks.

  “Later,” Ton says. “Go on, Red.”

  “The basic point of an AiSP is to keep GenSOF operators alive and functioning,” Red says. “That’s within the Clean Nation cities and without. Their priority is to maintain health and well being of the operators while also keeping a production of the bacterial cultures growing inside each operator. To keep a proper balance so those cultures can fully mature. In order to do that, the AiSP has to put the operators’ safety first. Save the host, save the cultures.”

  “And once those cultures become mature then we are expendable as people, but perfect as subjects to experiment on,” Ton says. “Then become biological weapons.”

  “Yep, you got it,” Red says. “Welcome to GenWreck city.”

  “There’s a GenWreck city?” Paulo asks.

  “It’s a joke,” Red smiles. “Roll with it.” He rubs his brow for a second and continues. “Sergeant Crouch was tagged young, just like we all were, because of his genetic predisposition to handle the new bacterial loads. What Control didn’t know, at least not until much later, was that Sergeant Crouch’s system was slightly different. The bacteria we are born with didn’t want to give up its real estate to the new cultures. It refused to yield.”

  “But ours did yield?” Paulo asks.

  “Yeah, yours, mine, Ton’s, all the GenSOF operators,” Red says. “Our natural cultures were slowly pushed out and dominated by the new GenSOF cultures designed by Control. Not in Sergeant Crouch’s case, though. His natural cultures not only refused to yield, they dominated the new cultures and started adapting those bacteria to their own purposes.”

  Red laughs and shakes his head.

  “It’s hard to believe, I know, but by some random stroke of luck, Sergeant Crouch houses the bacteria needed to save us all,” Red says.

  “What does this have to do with Worm? And the resistance?” Ton asks. “And why didn’t Control know about Blaze?”

  “They did, don’t you see?” Red replies. “It took some time before the change was noticed, but Control did find out. Through Worm. The AiSP reported every single detail, just as always. Worm reported every detail about Sergeant Crouch’s physical, emotional, and psychological state. Except for one detail.”

  “Ms. Cale,” Ton says.

  “Exactly,” Red says. “That operator couldn’t be cont
ained. Worm tried at first, restricting his movement as much as possible, but Sergeant Crouch’s health suffered. It didn’t take long for Worm to realize that in order to do as he was programmed, he had to actually allow Sergeant Crouch his freedom. He had to let him go see Jersey.”

  “Always for a girl,” Paulo laughs.

  “Always for love, operator,” Red says, turning on the man. “Boy, girl, man, woman, doesn’t matter. Look at this place; look at what the world is. What the hell else is there to live for?”

  “Duty to the Clean Nation cities,” Paulo shrugs. “Do you really need more?”

  “Yes,” Red says. “And Sergeant Crouch knew that. When he and Jersey began seeing each other again, Worm realized the health benefits and actually conspired with the couple to keep it hidden. He manipulated movement logs and faked PSC glitches to throw Control off. He also invented the idea that Crouch was implanted with the probiotic, not born with it. That diverted Control’s attention, giving us more time. If they knew he was born with it, they would have grabbed him sooner. But the ruse only lasted so long.”

  “How could he fight his basic programming like that?” Paulo asks. “I’m not a wiz like Jersey, but I know enough about systems that an AiSP can’t just decide to be free on its own. Each AiSP is only a branch of the main root in Control.”

  “That is something Jersey will have to explain,” Red says. “If you can get her to. She says someone isolated Worm at some point and talked some sense into him.”

  “That’s not possible,” Paulo says.

  Red shrugs. “Above my pay grade, operator. What I do know is during his attempts to keep Sergeant Crouch off the radar, Worm discovered the full truth of the GenWrecks. This led him to find out what Control’s true purpose for GenSOF is.”

  “I’m lost,” Paulo says.

  “Later,” Ton responds.

  “The AiSP that Worm became realized that Control’s plan was not conducive to the health and well being of GenSOF operators, or to anyone for that matter,” Red continues. “Because of his exposure to Sergeant Crouch’s reaction to being contained in the GenSOF tower, Worm extrapolated that confining the genpop to cities only would eventually lead to the decline of the health of all humanity.”

  “He’s playing his own programming against them,” Ton laughs. “Sneaky bastard.”

  “Yep,” Red says. “Worm realized that the bacteria inside Sergeant Crouch could be used to heal the Cooties, not kill them.”

  “He wants to save the Cooties?” Ton asks. “Why?”

  “Because they are people too,” Red says. “Worm can’t separate the Cooties from the GenWrecks, from genpop. If he does he’ll undo his own programming and return as just another piece of the greater program.”

  “An altruist by accident,” Ton laughs.

  “Exactly,” Red nods. “And the resistance was born. Worm started reaching out to GenWrecks whenever he could, helping to coordinate us. With Jersey’s help inside Caldicott City, and a few choice others I’ll tell you about later, a network inside the wall and outside was created.”

  “Worm actually made his smoke screen conspiracy come true,” Ton laughs.

  “Yep,” Red smiles. “That AiSP has issues.”

  “Do other Clean Nation cities have the same resistance?” Paulo asks.

  “I don’t know,” Red replies. “I suspect they do, otherwise what is the point? But I can’t get any information from Worm on that.”

  “Plausible deniability,” Ton says. “Control gets hold of anyone in the resistance or a GenWreck and they can’t rat out the whole network.”

  “That’s my guess,” Red nods. “He is one smart AiSP despite said issues.”

  “But he’s still an AiSP,” Paulo says. “How can we fully trust him? And why are you here? Why are we heading into Control and not away?”

  “Something happened that tipped Worm’s hand,” Red says. “A glitch and Sergeant Crouch was found out. They tracked Jersey down, and whoever those others are in the stasis cylinders, and decided it was time to bring Sergeant Crouch in. We got word from Worm it was all going down and moved as fast as possible.”

  Red looks at the death and destruction around him.

  “I guess it wasn’t fast enough,” he says.

  “They are taking Blaze in to isolate his culture,” Ton states. “Understood. That’s why Zebra squad was specifically requested. We get attacked by Cooties as what? A stalling tactic? A diversion?”

  “That I don’t know,” Red replies. “That’s something different. Worm keeps hinting at there being more to everything, but he won’t tell us. Probably has to do with him not hurting his reprogramming.”

  “So Control takes Blaze to study him and keep his bacteria from multiplying?” Paulo asks.

  “No,” Ton says. “I don’t think that’s right.” He frowns and looks about. His eyes track the GenWrecks. “They don’t want Blaze to stop him. They want him for you. For us.”

  “How do you mean?” Red asks.

  “The culture in him dominates the cultures in us,” Ton says. “What if it can be tweaked just enough to not only dominate the cultures in us, but destroy us as well?”

  “Why would they…?” Red trails off. “Jesus, how did I not see it before? They toss GenWrecks out to kill off the Cootie population. But who is going to kill us off? Clean Guard? Not a chance. We stay clear, we hunker down, we fight. If they can adapt the culture in Sergeant Crouch to go on the offense, to spread and kill, not just dominate, then all they have to do is expose us to it and we go down.”

  “They create a new GenSOF?” Paulo asks.

  “No, no,” Red says, shaking his head. “Then they’d have to create a new one to kill the new one and another new one to kill that. It would never stop. Their end game is to change the cultures enough so that the Sicklands are purged. The new bacteria would be deadly to us. All of us.”

  “Fuck me,” Paulo says. “That’s some heavy shit.”

  “Mostly speculation,” Red says. “It’s possible. We just don’t know.”

  “We get into Control and we’ll know for sure,” Ton says.

  “Hopefully we can live long enough to use that knowledge,” Red says. “You ever been inside Control?”

  “Only the transport bays,” Ton replies.

  “Yeah, I’ve seen a lot more,” Red says. “This is not going to be easy.”

  “Never is for GenSOF,” Ton smiles. “That’s half the fun.”

  35

  The cables used to harness the dogs to the Slides continually become tangled as the bug hounds struggle across the rocky terrain of the Sicklands, forcing Jude to stop constantly and free up the knots. The constant stopping slows the group’s progress considerably and the dogs become more and more agitated as they start to detect hostiles closing in on their position.

  “Makes me long for a good old sat scan,” Milo says, his pistol up, sweeping the darkness of the landscape, his eyes looking for where the attack will come from. “This waiting to be hit shit is not how I like to operate.”

  “It’s the only way I know,” Jude says. “I never had a PSC or access to IRIS. All flesh, all blood here.”

  “Sounds scary,” Milo says. “I feel naked without my tech up and running.” He looks at his wrist and the spot where his PSC was removed. It’s sore, but bearable. “No fair that the dogs get to keep theirs.”

  “Worm disabled them,” Jude says, working on the final knot as the Slides bob up and down on their hover skids, blown by the increasing wind. “If Control really wants to hunt then they’ll find the dogs, but otherwise they are quiet. No com abilities.”

  Finished freeing the knot he looks around, his face raised, nose smelling the air.

  “Grit storm coming,” he says. “We may get hit before we make it to the bolt hole.”

  “Grit storm?” Milo asks. “I got caught in one a few years ago. Thought I was going to die. Luckily, I have my visor. Just a tap and…”

  “No visor,” Jude says. “No Stat
Shield. No tech to control it. With your PSC removed, your suit is just armor. We have to get to cover and fast.”

  “Fast isn’t how things have been running,” Milo laughs. “We’re just going to have to stop in a hundred yards or so to detangle the cables again.”

  “Quitting won’t keep us safe,” Jude says. He looks at Milo then over at Hoagie.

  “Thinking of leaving us behind, kid?” Milo asks. “Don’t blame you. Get yourself and the dogs to safety. Don’t worry about us operators, we’re designed to survive. Tuck us up under an outcropping and we’ll huddle together until the storm passes.”

  “If it’s a small one,” Jude says, sniffing the air again. “Doesn’t smell small. A big grit storm will strip your armor off in minutes and your flesh off in seconds. I leave you, you die. Can’t do that.”

  “Well, I admire your dedication,” Milo says. “Cheers to you, little brother. Then what’s your thinking?”

  “Instead of the dogs pulling, I drive,” Jude says. “I get you and Sergeant Hoagie onto one Slide and train the two together tight with the cables so they can’t get tangled. I drive the front one and we get to the bolt hole a lot faster. Plus the dogs will be free to cover us when the Cooties hit.”

  “You think they’re that close?” Milo asks, his eyes trying to pierce the darkness of the night.

  “I smell them more than the grit storm,” Jude says. “They’re right behind us.”

  “Shit,” Milo says, rolling to his side and swinging his legs over the edge of the Slide. “Then let’s do this.”

  Jude helps Milo over to the other Slide. The boy repositions Hoagie, keeping his leg secured and arm tucked in, pressing him up against the front as much as possible. Milo looks at the way Hoagie is laying and frowns.

  “You want me to spoon him, don’t you?” Milo asks. “Not sure how he’ll like that.”

  “Get between his legs,” Jude says. “Face backwards and I’ll use the extra cables to tie you down so you don’t fall off. That way you have our six when the Cooties hit.”

  “You keep saying when,” Milo says. “We can’t outrun them? Even with the Slide?”