The Susquehanna Virus Box Set

by Steve McEllistrem

  Zora shook her head, then grimaced in obvious pain. “He’s your father. You should show him some respect.”

  “Why?”

  “You’re so full of yourself. You’re still just a ten-year-old boy. You don’t care about anyone. You don’t have empathy.”

  “Are you telling me to grow up?” Curtik grinned.

  Zora snorted. Winced.

  “This is never going to work,” Curtik said. “You can barely move your head without flinching. How are you going to handle yourself in the field when you’re in constant agony?”

  Zora glared at him. “I’ll manage.”

  “Look,” Curtik said, “I know you’re tough. And you think you’re honoring my dad by suffering like he does. But he wouldn’t want you to do this. More importantly, you can’t concentrate on the mission if you’re in pain. And I don’t want your lack of focus to get us killed.”

  “I can handle it.”

  “Now who’s being childish? What if we have to move quickly? What if we need to follow someone or defend ourselves?”

  Curtik took a swing at Zora, a punch he held back on only a fraction. Zora parried the blow, twisting his arm behind him, but gasping as she did so. Curtik took advantage of her distracted state to spin around and kick her legs out from under her. She fell to the ground, a cry escaping her.

  “See?” he said as he reached a hand down to help her.

  She grabbed his hand and pulled herself up, gritting her teeth as she did so. At that moment, the door chimed. It slid open a second later and Dr. Poole stepped inside. Curtik turned to her. “Piscine,” he said. “Maybe you can reason with her. Zora won’t take her medication.”

  Dr. Poole studied Zora, who crossed her arms in front of her breasts and stared back.

  Shaking her head, Dr. Poole said, “Jeremiah gave you a transfusion to save your life, Zora, not to cause you pain. How many times has he told you he doesn’t want you to suffer?” Zora rolled her eyes. “We’ve talked it over, Lendra and I. We know you feel strongly about this. But Curtik is right. If you don’t take the meds, the mission is off.”

  “Damn it, Zora,” Curtik said. “If you blow this, I will beat you senseless.”

  “Jeremiah doesn’t get to lessen his pain,” Zora said.

  “That’s not the point,” Dr. Poole said. “Besides, his agony is vastly greater than yours anyway. So you would have to take something to increase your pain to be at the crippling level he’s at. Do you want that?”

  Zora sighed. “Fine. Give me the damn medicine.”

  After Poole dosed her, Curtik said, “There. Don’t we feel all adult now?”

  “Okay,” Zora said, “you’re right. I was being childish.”

  Curtik smirked and did a little jig.

  “Now who’s being a child?” she said.

  “You’re both children,” Dr. Poole said. “Sometimes we forget that because you look like you’re in your twenties. And even though you’ve been enhanced and your physical and mental growth accelerated, you’re still only ten.”

  Curtik sensed she was reconsidering sending them out.

  “We can handle ourselves, Piscine.”

  “I’ve told you I don’t like that nickname,” Dr. Poole said.

  “Sorry. Didn’t mean it. I promise. We’re ready for this assignment.”

  “Hmm,” Dr. Poole said. “We’ll see. Remember, these are probably low-level couriers. They’re Earth Guardians—part of the vast group of Gaia devotees who’ve been recruited via the Internet. They may not even be connected with the Sally movement. We just want to try to make contact. Failing that, we want to track them. Just put a small quantity of the tracking dust on their hair or clothes and we’ll be able to follow them.”

  “That’s so cool,” Curtik said. “Tracking dust. I love it. I tell you, Doctor, I’m so psyched.”

  “Remember, there are civilians in the bar. It’s not just Gaians. And so far, we haven’t seen any sign that Sally members frequent the place. So tonight, listen to Ndabi Okoye.”

  “I still don’t like having to take orders from him. He’s not a ghost.”

  “He’s a trusted operative. He’s survived in the field a long time. He knows what he’s doing. He’s careful and he’s very good at reading people. If he tells you to back off, then that’s what you do. And we’ll figure out some other way to go after them.”

  “What about dear old dad?” Curtik asked. “Is he going to get off his fat ass and join us?”

  Dr. Poole shook her head. “I called him and told him you’d be operating on your own. I asked him to help with monitoring. He refused.”

  “Poor us,” Curtik said, pretending to rub his eyes with his fists. “All by our lonesomes. Now can we go already?”

  Dr. Poole closed her eyes for a moment and took a deep breath. “Okoye’s already in the bar. So are the targets. He’ll monitor you from the front corner. He invited a few friends along to provide cover, but they’re innocents. He’s wearing an interface so you can communicate with him, but we don’t want to involve his friends if we don’t have to. This is a simple assignment. Get the tracking devices on the targets and only engage them if you think you can do it without blowing your cover. Think of it as a test.”

  “Test,” Curtik said. “Got it. Listen to Okoye. Got it. Don’t do anything rash. Got it. Can we go now?”

  Dr. Poole sighed. “I just know I’m going to regret sending you on this assignment.”

  * * *

  Curtik walked into Cole’s Wall—a dark bar with a couple dozen tables and booths, every one of them occupied—his arm wrapped around Zora’s waist, pulling her into his hip, his hand sliding down to her bottom, cupping her left cheek in his palm. He gave her a little pinch as the door closed behind them. Zora reached down and grabbed his hand, pulling it back up around her waist, twisting his thumb awkwardly. Through her implant she sent, Tomorrow you’ll pay during training.

  Bite me, he answered as he freed his thumb from her grasp.

  The patrons all looked their way, the long and dark-paneled room becoming quieter as the mere mortals acknowledged the presence of gods. Glancing into a corner by the front window, Curtik spotted Okoye at a table with three other men, all four tracking Zora’s progress through the bar. Okoye wore a silver interface. Acoustic guitars mixed with wooden flutes, playing a tune that sounded vaguely South American. Liquor bottles stood in rows behind the bar, lit by spotlights that reflected yellows, browns, reds and greens.

  “You want something to drink?” Curtik asked Zora.

  “Water,” Zora answered in a clipped voice. She preceded him to the bar, head held high, weaving her way around tables.

  The women in the room, Curtik was happy to note, stared at him openly, desire written on their faces. Perhaps he’d take one home with him. With his peripheral vision, he caught a glimpse of a pretty woman with dark wavy hair sitting across from a tall muscular man, who scowled at them, as if upset that he and his woman were no longer the prettiest people in the room.

  Okoye sent a message via his interface: The table against the back wall. The two couples locked in close conversation.

  Got it, Zora sent a reply as Curtik pulled Zora in tightly. He ordered a beer and a water, supplying his thumbprint to verify his age and pay for the drinks. The CINTEP identity worked like a charm. The bartender brought him his beer with an inviting smile. God, she was ancient! At least 40. Curtik, taking a long pull on the bottle, almost gagged at the bitter taste. He should have ordered a mixed drink. Maybe next time.

  Zora’s water came in a fancy glass with a twist of lime. She held up the glass as if in a toast, her way of telling him he should have ordered water too. He shook his head. This was an easy assignment—might as well get some benefit to it. He leaned over Zora to give her a kiss, but she stepped away from him, making for a support column near the back of the roo
m.

  Where the hell are you going? he sent. We’re supposed to be a couple.

  He grabbed his beer and followed her. When he caught up to her at the pillar, he pushed her back against it and kissed her. Her mouth tasted faintly of limes. Desire for her infused him as her breasts pressed against his chest.

  Hey, Okoye sent, subtle, remember. You’re memorable enough without a public display of affection.

  Old fart, Curtik sent to Zora. Then he snaked his tongue between her lips. She bit it hard enough that he hurriedly pulled it back inside his mouth, barely managing not to yelp in pain.

  The man across the table from the pretty woman saw Curtik pull back and grinned. Bastard! Curtik put on a smile, promising her through his implant that tomorrow’s training session would be painful.

  You told me to bite you, Zora sent back.

  Bitch!

  Zora laughed, a melodic and charming sound that caused the room to cease all conversation for a moment and look her way. For the next twenty minutes, they stood by the pillar nursing their drinks, chatting just loudly enough to be heard at the back table, discussing the panic caused by the virus in Jakarta. A dozen people looked at them with interest, searching for any sign that he or Zora would welcome an intrusion, but the two couples at the back table ignored them, continuing their whispered conversation, their heads close together. They never looked at Curtik or Zora.

  We’re getting nowhere, Curtik sent. These dimwits don’t even know we’re here.

  They’ll leave in an hour or so, Okoye sent. Be patient.

  They’re staying away from everyone, Zora sent. I’ll need a distraction.

  Fun.

  This isn’t part of the plan, Okoye sent.

  Zora handed him her glass, then reached into her pockets to coat her hands with tracking dust. When she pulled them out, Curtik glanced at them. Though he’d known he wouldn’t see anything unusual, he was mildly surprised that her hands looked the same as always.

  Zora walked toward the restroom, past where the two couples sat with their heads close together. The bar quieted again, conversation occurring only in hushed tones. The men followed Zora with their eyes while the women stared at Curtik. He winked at the pretty one with the dark wavy hair, giving her his full-on smile, causing her nostrils to flare and her face to color slightly as she smiled back at him. The muscle man across the table from her glared at Curtik and said, “Rebecca.”

  “Just looking, Tad,” she replied.

  Rebecca and Tad, Curtik thought, two physically beautiful people without a thought to share between them.

  What the hell are you up to? Okoye sent.

  We know what we’re doing, Curtik replied.

  This is not the right move, kids, Okoye sent.

  Curtik walked over to the bar and put his half-empty bottle atop it, along with Zora’s empty water glass. Then he walked over to Rebecca. As he reached her table, Tad got to his feet and said, “What do you want?”

  “Just looking for a little fun, Tad,” Curtik answered. “Before the world ends.”

  “We’re trying to have a private conversation here.”

  Curtik sneered at him, assessing Tad’s height, weight and age. He looked to be about six-two, two hundred pounds—taller and heavier than Curtik—in his early thirties, a little pale and soft, likely because he spent too much time on his ass.

  “Why don’t I start with you?” Curtik said.

  “What?”

  Curtik took an easy swing at Tad—a semi-serious punch that Tad ought to have been able to block. Instead his fist connected with Tad’s jaw, knocking the bigger man backward a step. With his peripheral vision, Curtik saw Zora brush past the two people on one side of the table, touching each of them lightly on the back. Now Tad lunged at Curtik, throwing a heavy roundhouse punch that made Curtik laugh. Easily dodging out of the way, Curtik slapped Tad’s face.

  Are you crazy? Okoye sent.

  Tad roared, then dove at Curtik, his arms reaching out to encircle Curtik’s waist. Curtik jumped, spun and kicked all in one motion, knocking the bigger man into the table, where he landed with a satisfying crash. Several women screamed. Adrenaline, that lovely drug, pumped through Curtik’s body, sending a surge of pleasure into every nerve. Zora worked her way around the table to the other side, as if frightened of what was happening. Now a couple of bouncers converged on Curtik. This was more like it.

  “Stop it!” Zora yelled. Go, she sent. Acquiring final two targets now.

  Curtik grinned at the bouncers as Zora’s fingers lightly brushed against the other two people. “Come on, you fairies,” he said. “Come and get me.”

  They rushed him from both sides. Again Curtik leapt in the air, kicking one in the face, punching the other in the eye. He tried not to hurt them too badly, allowing them to get to their feet before hitting them again, trying not to look enhanced, only a little faster than they were. But, damn, it was hard not to kill them. Big and strong as they were, they moved like they were trapped in molasses. In less than a minute, they were laid out on the floor, groaning. Neither of them had managed to touch him.

  What the hell was that? Okoye sent.

  Zora moved away from the table with the Gaians, putting her back to the pillar in a classic defensive maneuver and sent, Mission accomplished.

  Get the hell out of here, Okoye sent.

  “I called the police,” the bartender said. “They’ll be here any minute.”

  Half the room laughed. No one believed the police would arrive anytime soon. Curtik joined Zora at the column and put his arm around her shoulder.

  “We’re all gonna die in a few weeks anyway,” he said. “If not the Susquehanna Virus, then nuclear war, or food or energy riots.” The two couples in the back remained sitting at their table, not moving, not speaking.

  “She might have been lying to us,” Zora said.

  Brilliant, he sent. “She claimed it was unstoppable.” He spoke just loudly enough for his voice to reach the back table. “We’re in the endgame. Humanity is doomed.”

  Get out now, Okoye sent. They’re totally freaked.

  Which means they’ll head to their superiors, Zora sent. Or they’ll run. Either way, we get information from them.

  It was the right play, Curtik sent. Trust us.

  The people at the back table said nothing, but the bartender said, “What the hell are you talking about, boy? What’s this end of the world crap?”

  Zora answered: “I heard that the virus passed the global tipping point last week. You all saw what happened in Indonesia. Well, it’s coming here next. We’ll all be dead inside a month, maybe two.”

  “The government said it was an isolated problem, that Jakarta was under a quarantine, that there was no way the virus could escape.”

  Curtik snorted. “The government? You gotta be kidding me. Whatever they say, you can pretty much believe the opposite is true.” He smiled at the bartender. “Hell, they just told you the police were on the way, didn’t they?”

  The bartender shrugged.

  “She’s right,” Curtik added as he pointed at Zora. “We’re all gonna die. Soon. Might as well have some fun before—”

  You’re overplaying your hand, Okoye sent. They’re panicking. Who knows what they’ll do now?

  Curtik glanced at the foursome in the back. They looked around the room as if searching for another exit.

  Time to move, Zora sent.

  Curtik and Zora made for the door.

  I still don’t like this, Okoye sent. You two are reckless.

  Calm down, Curtik replied.

  Let’s see how they react, Zora added.

  When they got outside, Zora shrugged out from under his arm.

  Curtik said, “Now what?”

  “Across the street.” Zora darted off and Curtik followed her to a darkened doorway
, where they pressed tightly into the walls. The night air felt chilly but Curtik barely noticed. He could still feel the adrenaline pumping. The nanobots and the animal DNA fueled his replay of the frenzied fight, combining to give him a rush of pleasure, almost like sex, only more intense, deeper—a whole-body orgasm of joy.

  I contacted Lendra, Okoye sent, intruding on his thoughts. She’s got drones ready to follow the subjects when they leave the bar.

  We should follow them, Curtik sent. We set it up.

  You’ve been burned, Okoye sent. If they saw you, they’d rabbit.

  At that moment, Tad stepped out of the bar, his face looking green in the light of the sign. He held his jaw in one hand and leaned heavily on Rebecca. When he spotted Curtik across the street, he gave Curtik the finger. Chuckling, Curtik flipped him off with both fingers, over and over—an octuple flip-off.

  Tad called out: “I’ll see you soon.”

  “What?” Curtik called back. “You want some more?” He started forward, but Zora grabbed his arm as Tad scurried away, his arm around Rebecca as they vanished around the corner. Too bad Curtik never got a chance to show Rebecca what a real man could do.

  Lendra wants you to wait outside, Okoye sent. She’s upset that you didn’t stay with the plan.

  The plan sucked, Curtik sent.

  Zora said, “When she debriefs us, she’ll understand that we did the smart thing.”

  “I don’t know why we don’t just follow ’em,” Curtik said. “Take ’em down when they get where they’re going. If they don’t tell us what we want, we fill ’em full of drugs, pump their brains dry and dump ’em where we get the maximum amount of terror from their deaths. How hard is that?”

  Zora shook her head. “Lendra must have a reason why she hasn’t picked them up so far. Poole said they’re low-level messengers. Likely they don’t know enough of the command structure to be able to give us more information. Lendra’s probably hoping they’ll lead us to someone who might know something—a person who might bolt if the wrong approach is made.”

  A black car pulled up to the curb, the rear door opening. Curtik tensed, preparing to leap into action, wishing Lendra had given him a weapon. He felt naked without a Las-pistol.