The Susquehanna Virus Box Set

by Steve McEllistrem

  “This is Sister Ezekiel,” Colonel Truman said. “Gray Weiss, Attorney General.”

  Gray Weiss stepped forward and gave her a warm, two-handed shake.

  “Mr. Weiss,” Sister Ezekiel said, “I hope you’ll sort out this mess for us.”

  Weiss held onto her hand for a long moment, smiling, his bright teeth perhaps even whiter than Dr. Mary’s. He seemed totally focused on her. “Of course I will. It’s a pleasure to meet you, Sister. I’ve heard wonderful things about your shelter. You do fantastic work here—most impressive. I wish we could have met under better circumstances. Please accept my apology for the lateness of the hour and the regrettable violence.”

  Sister Ezekiel asked, “Was it necessary to barge in in the middle of the night?”

  “We felt that surprise was essential. We hoped to catch Devereaux within the confines of the shelter. If he’s not here, it’ll just be a little longer process. We’ve cordoned off the entire area—the town and the woods off to the east, all the way to Rochester. No one’s getting out without going through our identification checkpoints.”

  “Well,” Sister Ezekiel looked around at the men lining the lobby—the men who had been mistreated and forgotten for years, the men who had, for the most part given up, and whom society had certainly given up on—and shook her head, “I haven’t seen him here. And there are less than a hundred men here at the moment.”

  Colonel Truman added, “Several tried to escape in the confusion when my men hit the shelter. We got them all, though there are definitely more living in the woods. I can send out a few patrols to round them up.”

  “Good idea, Colonel. Bring back as many as you can find.”

  As the colonel spoke into his headset, Sister Ezekiel said to Weiss, “You’re rounding up homeless men?”

  “I would think,” he answered, “of all people, you’d be happy to see Devereaux caught.”

  “Because he preaches that there’s no God? I’m sorry to disappoint you, Mr. Weiss, but I bear Mr. Devereaux no ill will.”

  “I find that hard to believe, Sister.”

  “Faith, Mr. Weiss, is about believing even when the facts tell you otherwise. The Good Lord exists, despite Mr. Devereaux’s opinion. I talk to Him every day. He gives me guidance and support. He shows me miracles, small and large. I carry on His work. And part of my ministry is to convince others that He exists and that He loves them. Some day, I hope, Devereaux will come to believe in Him again.”

  “I wouldn’t bet on that, Sister.”

  “I don’t gamble, Mr. Weiss. I pray—for Devereaux and for you. I pray for the whole world. By the way, I already told Colonel Truman that we haven’t seen anyone who looks like Devereaux. You can, of course, check with the doctor. She’s seen many of the men rather more intimately than I have. But I don’t think she’ll be able to help you, either.”

  “Thank you, Sister. And I thank you for your prayers too. I can certainly use them. Where is this doctor?”

  “In the infirmary,” Sister Ezekiel pointed to the doorway, “treating several wounded men.”

  “I think one of them is a pseudo,” Colonel Truman interjected.

  “A Mars Project astronaut?” Weiss said.

  “I don’t know, sir. I don’t recognize him, and the DS-9000 isn’t up yet.”

  “Did you scan his fingerprints or irises?”

  Colonel Truman glanced over at Major Sims, who looked down at her PlusPhone and shook her head, then glared at one of the sergeants. Colonel Truman said, “I’ll do that right now, sir.”

  “Let’s all go,” Weiss said. He stepped into the infirmary, acknowledging the soldiers on guard duty with a nod, then stopped and stared at Cookie Monster, who was zipping up a pair of coveralls far too short for him. The cuffs ended halfway down his forearms and calves. The seams around his shoulders strained against his massive bulk. He looked like he might burst out of the fabric if he sneezed. Sister Ezekiel nearly laughed. Slowly, tentatively, Cookie Monster lowered himself to a sitting position on the gurney.

  Tic lay on a bed sleeping, and several other men who had suffered cuts and bruises in the original melee stood off to the side whispering. When Weiss entered the room, they hushed, lowered their heads and quickly moved past him out the door. As the last one exited, Weiss stepped toward Dr. Mary with his hand outstretched and a disarming smile. Sister Ezekiel watched Dr. Mary’s expression, wondering if she would succumb to the famous Gray Weiss charm.

  She needn’t have worried. Dr. Mary merely glanced down at his hand and said, “I take it you’re the one responsible for all this?”

  “I’m sorry, Doctor,” Weiss said, lowering his hand. “This violence is most regrettable. But we’re after a very dangerous man and that sometimes means using a higher level of force than is comfortable.”

  Dr. Mary turned to Colonel Truman. “What setting are those stun clubs on? And are they the Lockheed Martin Two-Point-Nines?”

  “Yes, they are,” Colonel Truman answered. Gently, the colonel reached for Cookie Monster’s hand, as if afraid of startling the big man. But Cookie Monster allowed him to press each finger to the PlusPhone. “They’re set at four.”

  “Four!” Dr. Mary exclaimed. “You’re not dealing with fit young men. It’s one thing to hit a big man like Cookie Monster with a four, but a little guy like Tic, it’s a wonder you didn’t kill him.”

  “Dr. McCaffery, is it?” Weiss interjected.

  “Dr. Mary.”

  “Yes, well, how is it that you know so much about stun clubs?”

  “I did a year at a clinic in Los Angeles. They tested the Two-Point-Nines there in a couple of riots. I saw my share of cases.”

  Weiss nodded. He looked at Dr. Mary with concern, though he spoke in a mellifluous voice: “There have been far too many riots lately, far too many preventable acts of violence. I know you’re upset by what the soldiers did. Understandably so. I wish there were an easier way to achieve our objective. But if there is, I can’t think of it. We need to find Devereaux. We need him off the airwaves. Surely you can appreciate that?”

  Dr. Mary ignored the question and turned to Sister Ezekiel, who said, “What do you wish us to do? Apart from allowing you to set up your scanner?”

  “I want you to trust that what I’m doing is right. I don’t want to be seen as a jackbooted thug, bringing law and order at the point of a gun. I know too well how force can be misused.”

  Dr. Mary said, “So you want us to be happy about your invasion of our shelter?”

  “I want you to cooperate with us. Help us do our job. Get us out of your hair as quickly as possible. Surely you don’t object to that?” Dr. Mary folded her arms under her breasts and stared at him. After a moment he said, “Yes, well…I don’t know much about you, Doctor. And that worries me.”

  “You think I’m a criminal?”

  “In this day and age you could be hiding a lot.”

  Dr. Mary looked down at her plump belly. “It’s kind of hard to hide this. Every year God makes my hair a little thinner and my body a little thicker.”

  Weiss laughed, then turned to Sister Ezekiel. “However, I know a good deal about you, Sister. And I certainly understand the pain you’ve endured.” He stepped past her to the wall-window that led to her office, looked through it, his back to the room, allowing her at least a shred of privacy, and continued, “No wonder you decided to devote your life to God. Most impressive, the way you turned a truly awful nightmare into a catalyst for good.”

  The blood rushed to Sister Ezekiel’s face. She said, “I was already a servant of God when that happened, Mr. Weiss. And I forgave those men a long time ago.”

  Across the room, Cookie Monster sat on the gurney looking at her with his usual emptiness, as if the conversation had drifted by above his head. The guards at the door stood still, ignoring her. But Colonel Truman looked up from his PlusPhone
. He watched her, not slyly or out of the corner of his eye but steadily—a hesitant smile that might have contained sympathy. His eyelids drooped fractionally. Dr. Mary seemed to sag in sorrow.

  Colonel Truman cleared his throat and said, “No record of the fingerprints on file, sir.” He held up his PlusPhone.

  “Nothing?” Weiss said. He turned from the wall-window and strode over to the colonel. He grabbed the PlusPhone, ran his eyes across it. “So he’s not with the Mars Project?” He turned toward Cookie Monster and stared at the giant’s face. Cookie Monster watched him unconcernedly.

  In the quiet that followed, images flashed through Sister Ezekiel’s brain: two men punching and kicking her, breaking her bones and stealing her virginity, leaving her shattered and sickeningly numb. She saw Dr. Mary watching her closely, felt the humiliation all over again. It had been a long time since anyone had brought up that horrible nightmare. She’d thought she’d buried it long ago.

  Why was she still embarrassed by the assault? Her body was just a vessel that held her soul, and her soul had not been damaged. Noticing a drop of blood on her left shoe, she conquered an urge to wipe it off on the back of her leg. Another flashback: to paramedics and police—everyone acting so solicitous, succoring her when what she wanted was vengeance despite her vows. She pulled herself back to the present. Somehow Weiss had deflated her, diminished her by complimenting her. Was it because she still hadn’t overcome her shame and anger from an ancient wrong? Or was it simply pride? Did she rankle at having her hidden past exposed to Dr. Mary?

  Weiss handed the PlusPhone back to Colonel Truman and turned to face Sister Ezekiel again. He must have seen something in her face because he said, “I’m sorry if I upset you, Sister. I didn’t mean to. I just meant to say that what you’ve done is most admirable. I don’t know how you manage to spend your life around men. Some of them must be violent criminals, rapists. I don’t think I’d have the courage to do what you do if I were in your shoes.”

  Sister Ezekiel, her anger fading, couldn’t help but admire his gifted tongue. Realizing that he’d cut her off at the legs, Weiss now propped her up effortlessly, brilliantly.

  Dr. Mary spoke up: “You needn’t pretend to be ignorant of courage, Mr. Weiss. You’re quite a brave man. So say the media. And who am I to argue? A career with the CIA, then law school and a judgeship. Your willingness to travel into areas ravaged by crime, your efforts to fight for law and order, your work with blighted communities to bring about peaceful streets.”

  Weiss dropped his head, as if embarrassed by the praise.

  “But,” Dr. Mary continued, “Sister Ezekiel is a different kind of brave. She confronts her fear every day. She does what she does without publicity, without ambition, without an agenda of any sort except to provide for men who can no longer provide for themselves. Regardless of her reasons for being here, she’s a hero in my book. The bravest of the brave. You are a seeker after power. And that taints you. Although you are a brave man, never forget that she’s a better person than you or I will ever be.”

  Sister Ezekiel gave Dr. Mary a grateful smile. She felt an immense rush of love for this kind woman, and proud that someone as selfless as the doctor should rise to her defense. How could she ask for a better staff?

  “I would never suggest otherwise,” Weiss said. “I was merely trying, in my own clumsy way, to pay the good sister a compliment. Please forgive me for touching on such a sensitive subject. Perhaps I should stick to business. Now this man,” Weiss pointed to Cookie Monster, “definitely concerns me.”

  Weiss took several steps toward Cookie Monster, who scrunched up his face in a ferocious scowl, bared his teeth and growled. Weiss jumped back as Cookie Monster slapped himself on the thigh and laughed heartily. Dr. Mary grinned. And Sister Ezekiel found herself smiling.

  “Don’t mind him,” Sister Ezekiel said. “He does that to everyone.”

  Weiss put a hand to his chest. “He nearly gave me a heart attack.”

  Dr. Mary said, “I take it as a good sign. It means he’s probably feeling a lot better.”

  Weiss rubbed his chin, eyeing Cookie Monster warily. “I still think he’s a pseudo. Perhaps his mind is starting to go. At any rate, his presence confirms that Devereaux is in the area.”

  “Why do you say that?” Sister Ezekiel asked.

  “Devereaux has been known to associate with pseudos. And recently, a reliable source confirmed that Devereaux was in this area.”

  “So you’ve only got hearsay evidence that he’s here?” Dr. Mary said.

  “Are you a lawyer too?” Weiss looked at Dr. Mary with arched eyebrows. “You certainly have a wide range of knowledge.” Weiss paused for a second. “From a cosmopolitan city to rural Minnesota. An odd move, wouldn’t you say?”

  Dr. Mary returned his stare without flinching. “I’m trying to give a little something back. You should think about doing the same one of these days.”

  Weiss nodded. “Very commendable. That’s a pretty nice interface you’re wearing, Doctor.”

  “It’s also pretty necessary. I run into a wide variety of ailments in this place. Having ready access to current medical thinking is critical when the facilities I work in are so far behind the times.”

  Weiss finally broke eye contact with Dr. Mary, as if conceding her right to be there. “Devereaux is definitely not behind the times. He’s undoubtedly been altered or enhanced physically. He’s probably no longer recognizable. But I would guess he’s still tall and lean and well spoken.”

  “Well spoken doesn’t fit very many,” Dr. Mary said. “Some of these men are quite intelligent. But most have mental illnesses or brain damage caused by drugs. As for Devereaux, I don’t know that I would have recognized him before he altered his appearance. People rarely look like they do on the cover of Newsweek. Even you don’t look as good in person as you do on TV.”

  Major Sims stuck her head through the doorway and said, “Excuse me, sir. The DS-9000 is ready to go.”

  “Let’s get started,” Colonel Truman replied. “We’ll need your male employees to go through first, Sister.”

  Sister Ezekiel laughed. “You think any of them could be Devereaux?”

  “We can’t rule anyone out,” Weiss said. He pointed at Cookie Monster. “We’ll do him too. Right after we get the comparators.”

  “Very well,” Sister Ezekiel said. “But Jackson and Tremaine—my cooks—are still in the kitchen. Can you scan them later?”

  “Of course,” Weiss said. He pointed to Cookie Monster and said to the guards, “Bring him out.”

  Out in the lobby, Doug and Henry stood in a corner, the tall black man and the short plump albino, chatting with the homeless men, as far away from the DS-9000 as they could get. Huddled together like so many sheep while a handful of soldiers surrounded them, the men kept glancing at the machine that blocked the entryway. The DS-9000 was large and charcoal gray, with a metal arch that was clearly the mechanism by which it analyzed one’s DNA. It contained monitors on one side, a series of touchpads on the other, and a light band that traveled the length of the arch.

  Sister Ezekiel walked over to the group of men in the corner, Colonel Truman at her heels. She said, “Doug. Henry. The colonel here wishes you to go through the scanner.”

  “Me?” Doug asked.

  “Routine,” the colonel said. “We need a couple people to go through for comparison’s sake. Plus it might help put the men at ease seeing you two go through first. It’s painless. Only takes about a minute each. Who’s first?”

  “I’ll go,” Henry volunteered, his eyes narrowing until the pinks nearly disappeared behind his pale eyelids. “I hope you find the son of a bitch. He deserves whatever you do to him.”

  “Henry,” Sister Ezekiel admonished. “That’s hardly a charitable attitude. God commands us to love our fellow man.”

  “Sorry, Sister, but he’s evil.�
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  Major Sims stepped forward. “If you’ll step over here, sir,” she said. “Just stand under the arch until the machine beeps.”

  Henry moved to the designated area and stood with his hands at his sides, while a technician started the machine. A low hum emanated from it, then a series of clicks. Across the top of the arch, a blue light spread from left to right, painting Henry’s pale skin a sickly hue. When it finally reached the other side, the machine beeped.

  “You may step out,” the technician said.

  “See,” Weiss said, “there’s nothing to it.”

  “All right,” the colonel said to Doug. “You’re next.”

  Doug hesitated, looked at Sister Ezekiel as if hoping for a reprieve. But she could only shrug her shoulders. One of the soldiers jerked his stun club toward the machine and Doug trudged over, stopping under the arch. As the scanner hummed and clicked, Doug shut his eyes, moving his lips in what seemed a silent prayer. The blue light progressed across the archway. Finally the scanner beeped. Doug opened his eyes and relaxed his face.

  “You may step out,” the technician repeated.

  Doug exited the arch. As he began walking away, a chime sounded from the machine. Doug froze. Major Sims stepped over next to the technician and checked a screen as the nearest soldier moved next to Doug, hefting her stun club. Sister Ezekiel watched Doug’s face. His eyes widened in fear. A sheen covered his forehead.

  “You’d better take a look at this, sir,” Major Sims said.