The Demon Plagues

by David VanDyke

  They must be keeping the refugees from the nuclear strikes away by force, otherwise this little paradise would be overrun.

  Skull watched as Durgan’s Lexus pulled into his driveway, the garage door rising smoothly in response to a signal. He got out of his rental and walked fast down the sidewalk, reaching the closing door in just enough time to duck under it.

  Durgan nearly fainted from shock when he stepped out of his car inside his own closed garage and almost ran into the tall thin sniper. “What…who the hell are you?”

  Skull already had his B’s & C’s out, flashing the badge. “Craig Demming, US Marshal. Can we go inside and talk for a few minutes, Doctor Durgan?”

  Durgan looked at Skull uncertainly, then nodded. A minute later they were drinking iced tea at Durgan’s enormous teak dining table. No one else seemed to be home; in fact, Skull could see no signs that anyone else occupied the house at all, except for a black and white cat that peeked out at him from between the stair’s banister struts.

  “What’s this about? I can’t talk about my work, and I don’t…I haven’t had anything…I mean…” He trailed off uncertainly.

  Skull laced his fingers together in front of him, almost as if praying. “Doctor, I first heard your name in some interesting company. I was sitting in an SUV on a Virginia highway ten years ago, leaving the Norfolk area…listening to Elise Wallis tell me about the Eden Plague.”

  Durgan’s hand abruptly shook the iced tea glass, spilling its contents. He scrabbled convulsively for his phone, but Skull wrenched it out of his hand before he could use it.

  “Now, Doctor, I’m trying to have a civilized conversation and you’re being very impolite.” He gently placed the phone, face-down, off to the side. “I have no desire to hurt you more than necessary, but I have no compunction about doing so. None whatsoever. To make sure you realize how serious I am about this, I’m going to demonstrate.”

  He reached out like a striking snake, seizing Durgan’s left hand and slamming it flat onto the table. Middle-aged, soft and out of shape, the doctor was too slow and weak to prevent it. Without warning, without threat, like a chef with a carrot, Skull snapped the doctor’s left middle finger.

  Skull held on to the hand, effortlessly controlling the screaming man’s jerking struggles. “Hold still. If you keep that up, it will just get messy. Now calm down and think. Doctor, are you thinking? Are you calm?”

  Durgan nodded, tears of pain still streaming down his face.

  “You’re a man of science. Now think! What if you don’t tell me what I want to know, if you don’t do what I want you to do, and instead of breaking things I cut off all your fingers. And your toes. Your nose, perhaps your balls…let’s say that’s what it took before you cracked. I don’t think it will be, but let’s just suppose. What would you do?” Skull waited. “Come on, what would you do?”

  Durgan whispered something.

  “What was that?”

  “Eden Plague.”

  “Very good, doctor! So no matter what I do to you short of killing you, you have an out. You have options. It will change your life, sure, but maybe the new government will be a little less hard on the poor Sickos than the last. But what if you can’t get the Plague? What are your options?”

  Durgan licked his lips, and Skull shook his head. “The shock and pain are wearing off now and you’re starting to get stupid and brave, but you are helpless, doctor. I’ve killed more people than you have even met in your lifetime, and no one’s ever come close to killing me. You won’t be that man.”

  He sighed, looking for what he wanted in the other man’s eyes, not seeing it. “Always so stupid,” Skull muttered. He took out his sheath knife and without warning sliced off the first joint of the finger he gripped, with a casual flick of the blade.

  This time the screaming went on for a while, to end in blubbering and promises.

  “Now look, this didn’t have to happen. All you have to do is cooperate and give me what I want, and this will all be over. Now where were we? Oh, yes, options. What if you couldn’t get the Plague? Or didn’t want to? Oh, you don’t want to tell me?” He raised the knife again.

  “Wait! I can’t! It’s conditioning! I can’t tell you! I can only talk to cleared people! I’ll do all I can!”

  “Conditioning. Mind control. Right. No conditioning in the world can keep you from doing what you want to do, unless there’s some kind of consequence involved. Do you have an implant? Something that will stop your heart or fry your brain if you do or say the wrong thing? No? Then you will have to try harder for me, doctor. Let me help you. Tell me about Tiny Fortress.”

  Durgan’s jaw gaped open. “Where did you hear that name?”

  “It doesn’t matter. I know that if it’s not your project, at least you’ll know where it is. You had the Eden Plague project until we took it from you at Watts Island – yes, I was there – and I figure you’re just the type of guy they might give it to. Or at least, you’ll know who does have it. So, is Tiny Fortress your project now?”

  Durgan froze like a rabbit before a snake.

  “Thank you, doctor, that’s what I needed. I know it’s a nanotechnology project that the UG was working on. What was it for – to cure the Plague? Tell you what, if I’m right, don’t say anything. If I’m wrong, shake your head no. So, was it to cure the Plague? No. Was it to supplant the Plague? Yes…was it to do what the Plague does without the virtue effect? Yes, very good, doctor. You see, I know the basics already. How long until it’s ready?”

  Durgan gobbled, his words nonsense babble.

  “Ah. some kind of kinesthetic block. Fine, we’ll keep on with the yes or no questions…will it be ready within a year? Yes…within a month? Yes, oh very good. Within a week? It’s ready already? You are testing it on people?”

  Durgan stared at the table, saying nothing.

  “Doctor, I can still kill you, after a great deal of pain. Do I need to remind you again?”

  Durgan’s voice climbed to a shriek. “What do you want from me? I’m not disagreeing with anything you said! How can you possibly know all this?”

  “Because the harder you people try to keep secrets, doctor, the more they leak out. Did you ever wonder why the Nazis and the Soviets couldn’t keep their secrets any better than the West? Because if you create a regime that rewards betrayal and corruption, people will become corrupt and betray you too. And fear doesn’t make for loyal people, only scared ones. Look at you! If you truly believed in what you did, you’d die before you told me anything. But you’ve already sold them out. Might as well go all the way.”

  “What do you mean? I can’t get you into the lab. I literally can’t!”

  “That’s all right. I don’t want to go there. I don’t want to steal your precious nanobots. I have something much better in mind. Take me to your real boss. The one in charge of the whole thing.”

  “Uh…yes, I can do that, I believe. I can’t tell you his name but I can bring you to his house.”

  “Perfect.” Skull stood up, still holding on to the stump of Durgan’s finger, one joint light. “Do you have some tape? Any kind will do, duct tape is good. Yes, there we go, now just hold that up high, above your heart to retard the bleeding.” He taped Durgan’s finger up tight. “Let’s go. The sooner we do this, the sooner you get fixed.”

  Half an hour later the two men drove under an old-fashioned open western ranch gate with the words “Double-T Ranch” and the letters “TT” emblazoned on the crossbeam. The house was set a half mile back, a huge six-bedroom one-storey with a wraparound porch and a horse barn off to the side. They pulled the rental around the driveway loop and parked next to a dually truck and a large antique American luxury car from before the turn of the century.

  A young, hard man with ‘military’ written all over him stepped onto the massive front porch, his hand on a holstered .45. He relaxed slightly when he saw Durgan get out.

  The Doctor waved at him with forced cheeriness. “Hey, JT, your dad a
round?”

  “He’s getting a ride in on Foley before sundown. Who’s your friend?”

  “He’s why we’re here. Can’t really say more until your dad comes.” Durgan’s look was strained but he managed to keep himself together. He kept his left hand firmly in his jacket pocket.

  “Well, let’s just sit on the porch and have something to drink.” JT gestured to the padded wooden furniture. “What would you gentlemen like?”

  “Triple scotch, neat if you don’t mind,” answered Durgan.

  “Beer if you have it,” said Skull.

  “Be right out.” JT slipped inside.

  Before he could return with the drinks, an older man, fit and erect in the saddle, rode up at a canter on a bay gelding. Dismounting smoothly he looped the horse’s reins onto the bumper of the dually, then strode over to the porch. He wore jeans, a western shirt, a short leather jacket and roper’s gloves with the fingertips cut out, an old Peacemaker on his hip.

  Durgan waved from his chair, and Skull stood up, his open coat allowing easy access to his automatic holstered in his armpit. “Good evening, General. My name is Alan Denham. Master Gunnery Sergeant, US Marine Corps, Retired.”

  “Nobody’s retired at your age in these here United States, Guns. How come you’re special?”

  “General, if you don’t mind us all sitting down together, I’ll tell you everything you want to know.”

  The older man stared at the two visitors, then his eyes flicked to the front door, where his son was coming out with a tray clamped in one hand. The other one rested on the butt of his weapon. “All right. Let’s sit down.”

  They took places around the table on the ample front porch. Durgan grabbed his drink and gulped half down right away, his eyes darting from man to man like a caged animal.

  “I can see Doc here is a mite nervous, and I don’t know you, so why don’t you ease us all’s minds and ‘splain what this is all about.”

  “First, let’s simplify everyone’s calculations, sir.” Skull reached awkwardly with his left hand and drew his pistol out with two fingers by the butt, placing it on the windowsill behind him. “Now you can stop your hands hovering over those antiques you’re carrying like we’re going to have an old-timey shootout.”

  Durgan spoke up suddenly, as if released from a vow, babbling, “I didn’t want to bring him here, Travis, but he –”

  “Shut up, Doctor,” Skull said conversationally. “General, the good Doctor did not want to bring me here; I did force him.” He shrugged. “You know him better than I do; do you think he could stand up to pain?”

  The older man looked at Durgan flatly, then at JT, then back to Skull. “No, I s’pose not. So spill it, son, before I lose patience.”

  Skull’s thin lips smiled. “Good, I like a straightforward man. General Tyler, I’ve heard of you. I heard of you when I was a Marine, I heard of you when I was killing SS thugs and Psychos in Mexico City, and I heard of you since the bombs fell. Everyone says you’re a man of integrity but a flexible man too, a patriot who’s not too proud to do what’s necessary but who stayed clean through the last decade of hell.”

  “Get your lips off my ass and come to the point.”

  Skull chuckled. “I know about Tiny Fortress. Like you, I turned down my chance at immortality with the Plague. But if the nanites, whatever you call them, work like they’re supposed to, I want in.”

  “And who the hell are you to want in on the most important military project of this century? I got a million tough guys that want it too.”

  Skull smiled wider. “I think I’m unique. Any of your other tough guys have over five hundred personal kills at range? Any of your other tough guys personally take down over two hundred Psychos and never get caught? Any of your other tough guys personally acquainted with the most important man on the planet?”

  General Tyler’s lips thinned as his eyes widened in recognition. “You’re the Ghost. The one they could never catch down in Mexico. Do you have any idea how much trouble you caused for us?”

  “Not for us!” Skull slammed his palm down on the table. “For the Unionists! The UGNA wasn’t my country, it was a God-damned neo-Nazi Frankenstein that trampled on the Constitution and murdered its own citizens in concentration camps.”

  Tyler’s eyes narrowed. “Sounds like you did some murdering yourself.”

  Skull hissed, “War is not murder. Not when it’s a fight for freedom. I swore an oath to uphold the Constitution against all enemies, foreign and domestic, and to bear true faith and allegiance to the same! Every SS trooper took an oath to the Unionist Party and to the Triumvirate, something that doesn’t even exist anymore. I never killed one regular soldier. I stayed loyal when not a lot of other people did, loyal to the truth and to the USA. Not to some…Fourth Reich fantasy.”

  Tyler held up his hand. “All right, son, I hear you. You did what you thought was right. I never liked them sumbitches either. So now you want to come back to the flag.”

  “General, consider who I am, what I represent, and what I can do. The country needs people like me, and I need Tiny Fortress. Look at me. I’m getting old. Ten years and all I’ll be good for is instructing. But if it’s what I think it is, Tiny Fortress can keep me and others like me effective for as long as we’re needed. And General, we’re going to be needed.”

  “How do you figure? It ain’t gonna be Soldiers and Marines that fight these aliens. They’re dropping diseases on us, not robots or combat troops.”

  “For now. But eventually they’ll have to come in person. And Tiny Fortress can fight off the diseases too, can’t it?”

  “Maybe. These nanites, they’re not like the Eden Plague. Viruses are submicroscopic, extremely complex. The nanites we have are huge, and simple by comparison. It’s like elephants stomping mice right now.”

  Skull pressed on, sensing victory. “But if I’m right, we’re pouring resources into this. The Demon Plague – that’s what they’re calling it, right? – this alien plague is killing Edens and making normal people stupid and vicious. If the bombs hadn’t killed so many and shut down most of the transportation system in this country it would be even worse than it is, but right now the Demon Plague is under control, more or less. However, the Free Communities are way ahead of us in biological research. The only thing the US has that can compete is the nanites.”

  “I know all this, Denham. I know it better than you do. But what can you add to the program?” General Tyler was still skeptical, but he was interested now.

  “I’ll be a guinea pig volunteer for whatever you want. I’m sure that’s not unique. But once I’m done with that, once I am your poster boy for Tiny Fortress, I can get through to Markis.”

  JT spoke for the first time in a while. “Dad, I think we should bring him in. We need men like him. But what do you mean, get through to Markis? The politicians and diplomats can handle it.”

  “I know him. I know what he wants, how he thinks, how to convince him to cooperate.”

  General Tyler disagreed, “He’s not gonna cooperate. The SS tried to kill him with nanites in Geneva not more than a month ago. So he ain’t gonna be too friendly. Looks like the Plague beats Tiny Fortress.”

  JT laughed, shrill.

  Skull shrugged with a wry smile. “The SS tried to shoot down his plane, too, and I took out the kill team. Yes, that was me. Just me. One man, one gun. I saved his life, so he’s going to listen to me. And you know why he’ll do just about anything I ask?”

  The three men stared at Skull.

  “It’s because he wants to save me. I’m the one that got away, that turned his salvation down. He’s got a Jesus complex. Not only does he want to save the world, he wants to save my soul so bad he can taste it.”

  General Tyler cleared his throat. “So…why do you want to save him?”

  Skull’s mouth snapped shut. His eyes narrowed angrily. “You’re proving my point. We have a relationship. God knows what it is sometimes but it’s there. Do you have anyone else that
does? No. Then you need me. In fact, that’s another reason to listen to me. You people are too focused on beating Markis and the Free Communities. You’ve absorbed that Unionist crap without even realizing it. But you can’t beat him; you can’t beat the Plague, not in the next few weeks or months, but even if you could, what about the aliens?”

  “Is that what you really care about? Beating the aliens?” asked the General.

  “Yes, sir. I care about that before everything, and you should too. And after that I care about lifting this country back on its feet. And that’s why you want me, General. Because you know what kind of man I am. I’m your best friend and your worst enemy. So if you want to arrest me, do it now. Otherwise, sir, put me to work.”

  General Tyler looked past Skull’s bravado to see the hidden pain in his eyes, the pleading in his offer. This wild dog’s been too long out in the cold, and he wants back in by the fire. Wants a master to tell him it’s gonna be all right. Wants his job back guarding the herd. Tyler made a decision, stuck out his hand. “All right. Welcome to the team, Warrant Officer Denham. I think I can swing a little promotion for you.”

  -35-

  Testosterone reek filled the locker room. Skull watched as the other nine muscled spec-ops veterans traded gibes and half-serious insults. He was an outsider, and they didn’t much know what to make of him. Older than any by more than twenty years, in shape but not muscular, thin, tall and cadaverous, he did not fit the mold.

  One of the younglings finally decided to test the grizzled wolf. “Hey, Denham…what’s an old fart like you doing here?” The man’s demeanor wavered between interested, respectful and disdainful.

  Skull’s thousand-yard stare spoke of experience and ruthlessness, if not dominance. He turned his cold eyes on his questioner, augers boring into the younger man’s head. “No story. I have a skill set certain people would like preserved and enhanced. I’m here for the nanomachines, not to measure dicks with hotshots. Stay out of my way, and we won’t have a problem.”

  The young tough bristled, but a slightly older one, a short black man with a skintight haircut, pushed in front, holding out his hand. “Joshua Huff. Master Sergeant, Pararescue. Don’t mind McCarthy here. He’s got more muscles than brains. All SEALs do.”