The Susquehanna Virus Box Set

by Steve McEllistrem

  “The SAS go in with you or you don’t go in at all,” Major Somers said. “Frankly, some suggested that would be preferable to allowing you to operate in London.”

  Jefferson held up his hands. “We’re happy to follow your lead.”

  “Think happy thoughts, Major,” Curtik said, forcing a smile. “We might get ourselves blowed up again.”

  “We have an unknown number of hostiles,” Major Somers said, ignoring Curtik’s comment. “The only persons we know for certain are connected to the Sally movement are these women.” He pointed to the wall screen, where a tall black woman and a shorter Asian woman walked, and a blue-eyed redhead strolled beside Brosk through the park. “Let’s try to take the one with Brosk alive if we can.”

  “Hey,” Curtik said. “She’s kinda cute.”

  “Brosk,” Jefferson said, “isn’t the priority.” He rubbed his face and Curtik sensed it pained him to point that out. “We’ll save him if we can, but our main concern is stopping the virus.”

  “Let’s move, people.” Major Somers led them out.

  ***

  “Need to sit down,” Brosk gasped. “Hard to breathe.”

  “There’s a bench just up ahead,” Sally23 said. “What’s your plan?”

  “Remove your ear bud,” Brosk said. “We can use your tech repair kit to modify it, set up a jammer. It won’t be very powerful, but if I keep it in my possession, it might be strong enough to prevent a radio signal from reaching me. You bitch!” Brosk suddenly shouted. “I’ll kill you!” His hands shook. “It helps to yell.”

  He exhaled heavily, gathering his composure as dozens of people stared at them, no doubt wondering if Brosk intended violence against her. Sally23 steered Brosk to the bench, using the controller to force him to sit. “We’ll get your medication, dear,” she spoke loudly enough to be overheard. Most of the onlookers turned away.

  “You know this won’t save you,” Sally23 said. “The explosives are still coalescing inside your chest. They’ll still detonate within the hour.”

  “But we can buy time. Maybe enough for me to get someplace safe, where I can let the explosives off without hurting anyone.”

  “The river,” Sally23 said. “She infected you with a new version of the virus. I saw the specs briefly, and I think it’s water soluble. If we can somehow get to the river, get you underneath the water, the virus should dissipate, settle into the riverbed and harm no one.”

  “You sure?” Brosk asked.

  “No,” Sally23 said. “I didn’t get a lot of time to study the schematics.”

  Brosk nodded toward Sally8 and Sally17. “We still have armed guards to get past.”

  “CINTEP will take care of them.”

  “Right. Hurry,” Brosk pleaded. “The pain is . . . difficult.”

  Sally23 glanced at the band shell, about forty yards away. A light drizzle began. A crowd filled the seating area out front of the band shell—almost all of them mothers with young children—and all of them about to die. Sally23 shivered. She wondered how much was the cold and how much the understanding that she had helped make their imminent deaths possible. Opening her tech repair kit, she said, “What do I do?”

  “You have to reconfigure the receiver, change the modulation, and produce a static field to interfere with incoming signals.”

  Sally23 picked up the ear bud and began adjusting the modulation.

  “Murderer!” Brosk yelled. “Bitch! Recalibrate the ultrasonic transducer. Then adjust the . . . Dead! Adjust the frequency to seven point six oh four, or any similar variant that would be difficult to match quickly. I’ll need . . . I’ll need . . . I need to torture you. Strangle your scrawny neck! I’ll need help to get to the river.”

  “I’ll take you when we’ve got this earbud reconfigured.”

  Sally23 caught sight of Sally8 now, the tall Nigerian moving toward her out of the crowd as most of the passersby quickly distanced themselves, flicking unsettled glances at her and Brosk. One pedestrian, however, began jogging toward them. Sally17 emerged from behind a tree and fired a brief Las-pulse—a red streak of light that pierced the man’s cheek, dropping him instantly.

  Several people saw the man fall, but they apparently didn’t see the red laser pulse. Only one woman screamed. A few people hurried away. Others caught the tension in the area and began to clear out. But just then the musicians appeared on stage to enthusiastic applause.

  “Where the hell are the CINTEP people?” Sally8 asked.

  “You’re all dead!” Brosk yelled. “Every one of you.”

  “Shut him up,” Sally8 ordered.

  “I need to kill somebody soon,” Sally17 said.

  “Why?” Sally23 said. “Did you ever think you might be conditioned to feel that?”

  “What do you mean?” Sally17 asked.

  “Maybe you really don’t want to kill anybody at all. Maybe your mind has just been programmed to want it.”

  “But then I still want it, don’t I.”

  “Yes, but it’s not real.”

  Four pedestrians stood nearby, watching the Sallies as if mesmerized by them, ignoring the music emanating from the band shell—a popular children’s song. Sally17 pointed her Las-pistols at the four and fired two purple bursts that struck the ground at their feet. She giggled as they scattered. “Feels real.”

  The concert continued, its celebrants largely unaware of the situation behind them. A few people in the back rows glanced over nervously at the fallen man. Most of them turned their attention back to the stage, but one woman made her way in his direction.

  Brosk continued to curse, more softly now, almost a chant, as his face contorted in agony. Despite the controls on his movements, he managed to clench his hands into fists, before opening them wide, then repeating the movement over and over while Sally23 finished adjusting the ear bud.

  Sally8 moved a few feet closer, a canister in her hand, her eyes darting left and right before focusing on Sally23’s hands. Sally17 hung back a few paces.

  “What’re you doing?” Sally8 asked.

  “Should we kill ’em now?” Sally17 asked.

  Sally8 held up her right hand while Sally17 aimed her Las-pistols at Sally23.

  “My ear bud isn’t working,” Sally23 said.

  “Sally2 said you’re gonna run.”

  “Do I look like I’m running?”

  Sally8 again looked left and right, her eyes narrow, her body tense. Her right hand crept toward the canister in her left hand, the fingers twitching slightly.

  “If you kill us now,” Sally23 said, “you’ll lose the chance to get the CINTEP agents. What’s more, they’ll probably just blow this whole area sky high. I know you’re nervous, but get control of yourselves.”

  Sally8 frowned, her eyes looking past Sally23, listening to Sally2 through her ear bud.

  The woman who had spotted the dead man reached him, touched his neck and placed a call on her PlusPhone. Meanwhile, some of the concertgoers at the back of the band shell began gathering up their children and possessions and making for the gates despite the cries of their kids, who wanted to stay for the music. Sally23 noticed the woman with the coat like her mother’s. The woman bent over the pram. Was she leaving? Would she manage to escape? Run. Go. But she straightened, returning her attention to the musicians on stage, oblivious to the deadly scene behind her.

  “Sally2 sent you out here to be killed,” Brosk said to Sally8, his voice high and quavering, betraying his pain, “while she runs away. Did you know that she used to work for CINTEP, and that she changed her appearance surgically? She looks better now. Why would she make herself look better unless she wants to live?”

  “Shut up,” Sally17 said. She raised her right arm, pointing a Las-pistol at Brosk’s head. She kept the other Las-pistol squarely centered on Sally23’s torso.

  “Why isn’t she here
?” Sally23 followed Brosk’s lead. “Everyone else is. We all know this is the final battle. So why isn’t she fighting alongside us? Maybe Brosk is right. I know we’ve all been infected with the virus, but I don’t know if she has. Perhaps she has no intention of dying.”

  “Everyone will die,” Sally17 said. “There’s no escaping the virus.”

  “As far as you know,” Brosk said. “What if she lied to you?”

  Sally8 focused on Sally23 now, frowning in confusion.

  “We’re just asking questions,” Sally23 said. “Doesn’t it seem odd to you that she’s the only one not here?”

  “Well?” Sally8 asked.

  Sally23 realized Sally8 was speaking to Sally2. She risked a glance at Brosk, who looked from her eyes to her hands. Sally23 nodded, indicating that she’d finished the reconfiguration of the ear bud. Hopefully it was strong enough to jam any signal that Sally2 might send. Trogan exhaled slowly and closed his eyes. But their problems, Sally23 knew, were far from over. How were they going to get to the river?

  Chapter 25

  The van pulled up to Hyde Park Gate just as Major Somers finished his briefing. “Remember, kids,” he said, “we don’t want an international incident. You’re here because the terrorists want you here. You will not carry weapons. You will assist the SAS troopers wherever possible, but you will leave the operational work to them. Got it?”

  “Kids?” Curtik said. A fine rage built inside his brain, his vision beginning to blur. He was tired of Somers treating him like a bug.

  Zora touched his arm and shook her head. “No trouble,” she whispered, “or they’ll just leave you behind.”

  “You’re right,” Curtik said, tamping down the anger. After all, I did kill the poor bastard’s nephew. “Being good, starting . . . now.”

  The van door opened to the strains of a children’s concert. Curtik noted the dozen police officers at the entrance, looking uncomfortable in the light rain. Behind them stood the SAS security squad—eight massive men beside the park entrance wearing black casual fatigues and red berets, Las-rifles in their hands, interfaces at their temples. Two of them carried black tubes about two feet long and six inches in diameter.

  “Particle beam cannons. Awesome!” Curtik hopped down.

  He experienced a brief urge to attack the bigger SAS trooper with the particle beam cannon, see if the guy was as tough as Marschenko, but he kept himself in check. Good on me!

  He flexed his mechanical hand as he bounced from foot to foot. His body practically hummed with eagerness. A few screams emerged from the park. They sounded panicky, not associated with the concert. Curtik moved forward, but Jefferson grabbed his arm.

  “Hold on,” Major Somers said. “You go in with Wes.” He indicated the largest SAS trooper with a Las-rifle. The man had to be six and a-half feet tall, and 250 pounds. Curtik hoped the beast wouldn’t slow him down.

  “Zora,” Major Somers added, “you’re with Timothy. Perry,” Major Somers pointed at a trooper with a particle beam cannon, “you take Ned.”

  Curtik activated his shield, watching in delight as the rain hit it and evaporated immediately. Cool. He used his implant to access the images from the mini-drones previously released into the park. Zora and Jefferson, both without implants, activated their Plus-Glasses. Handfuls of people began to emerge from the park now, some jogging, some walking at a brisk pace. When they saw the forces lined up outside, they quickly stepped aside.

  Major Somers said, “You can see that we’ve got two hostiles next to Brosk and the young woman, who we presume is also a hostile.”

  “Grrr,” Curtik said softly as he studied the image of the redhead beside Brosk. “I could eat her up. She’s a cutie-pie.”

  “We don’t know how many other hostiles are in the area,” Major Somers said, “so be careful. Shoot first, ask questions later.”

  “Pay attention,” Jefferson said as he tapped Curtik on the shoulder. “Our job is to contain the virus. Remember, Brosk isn’t our first priority. Your people ready, Major Somers?”

  “We’re ready.”

  “Let’s do it.”

  Curtik cued The Viral Death Dance as he moved forward, bouncing to the jangly rhythms of the Crystal Skull Bangers:

  Let ’em fall, their faces blue

  Their arms and legs all twitchy

  The rotting corpses flood the ground

  Death Dance, baby, ultra-bitchy.

  Now that was art!

  Curtik danced beside Zora, singing the words loud enough for her to hear. Timothy and Wes followed behind. Curtik felt a little better now that he was moving. But Zora just shook her head. Poor girl had no sense of humor at all.

  As they entered the park ahead of the SAS troopers, Curtik took in the band shell, the musicians and the activity taking place near the park bench, where Brosk sat beside the cute terrorist. The tall black woman and the Asian girl stood in front of them, weapons in their hands, shields surrounding them with a faint yellow glow. The musicians suddenly stopped playing and more people noticed the SAS troopers. A few screams began an exodus and the police quickly moved to evacuate people in an orderly fashion.

  Jefferson spoke softly: “Curtik, you and I head toward Brosk. Zora, you stay with Timothy.”

  Curtik and Jefferson walked toward Brosk and the cutie-pie, trailed by Wes and Perry. Curtik kept an eye on the tall black woman and the short Asian girl. They stared back, shifting sideways a few feet. The tall black woman, Curtik realized, carried a canister in one hand, probably containing the virus. Beyond them, a handful of people stood watching. Idiots! Dozens of others ran along the path past them in an effort to get away.

  Curtik kept his focus on Brosk and the cutie-pie, vaguely noting that people were going down under the fire of the SAS troopers. God, he wished he had a Las-rifle. Probably good that I don’t. I might just fire at random. That would be delicious—but wrong.

  The tall black woman adjusted her shield to full intensity. It produced a bright white glow. Raindrops hitting it instantly turned to steam. Behind her, the short Asian girl’s shield flickered between full and low power. She carried a pair of Las-pistols. Oh, girlie, you are so dead.

  With his peripheral vision, Curtik saw red laser pulses fly, then he heard the blast of Perry’s particle beam cannon. The black woman’s shield vanished as the particle beam cannon’s destructive force shredded it. Another blast from the particle beam cannon and she exploded into a pink cloud, the canister blowing apart at the same time. Not a grenade. Must have been loaded with the virus.

  Now the Asian girl fired her Las-pistols at Curtik. He instinctively ducked, even though he knew his shield would protect him. Perry returned fire with his particle beam cannon. As her shield blew apart, Wes fired a red laser pulse at her, dropping her to the ground without even a scream.

  Just like that the fight was over. People got to their feet as the police beckoned for them to leave. The SAS troopers spread out in a search for more hostiles, but no one else appeared to be a threat.

  The smell of burning chemicals hit Curtik’s nostrils as he and Jefferson approached Brosk and the cutie-pie.

  As they neared, Brosk said, “Stay back.”

  Jefferson halted and said, “Trogan.”

  “Ned,” Brosk replied, his voice strained.

  “Went to a lot of trouble to get me here,” Jefferson said.

  Brosk forced a smile. “I wanted you to witness my dramatic escape.”

  “I’m sure it’ll be spectacular. What’s the situation?”

  As Curtik reached for the cutie-pie, Brosk said, “Stay back. Don’t hurt her. She’s helping me.” Curtik pulled his hand away.

  The cutie-pie placed a small ear bud in Brosk’s lap. Then she grabbed a box by her side—a neuro-controller. “You might want to back away,” she said. She adjusted the neuro-controller and Brosk grabbed the ear bud.<
br />
  She’s controlling his movements?

  “What did they do to you, Trogan?” Jefferson said.

  “I don’t have much time,” Brosk said.

  “He’s been rigged to explode,” the cutie-pie added.

  “Nano-explosives?” Jefferson asked.

  “Remember Dr. Leah Shafer?” Brosk said.

  Jefferson nodded. “Tall, obsessive-compulsive, unfriendly.”

  “That’s her. She’s changed her appearance, probably genetic surgery. Made herself more attractive. She’s Sally2.”

  “Where is she?”

  The cutie-pie said, “She was in that building undergoing renovation on Gloucester Terrace, a few blocks north. She’ll run—Lancaster Gate or Paddington Station or maybe Queensway or Bayswater. I don’t know where she’s going, but I’m sure she’ll run. I have to get Trogan to the river.”

  “Why?”

  “He’s infected with a new version of the virus. In fact, his clothes are loaded with it as well. They’re also rigged with explosives, making him into a dirty bomb that Sally2 planned to detonate when you arrived.”

  Curtik felt an urge to back away. He shook it off.

  “So why hasn’t she done it?” he asked.

  “Trogan showed me how to modify the ear bud to create a homemade jammer—disrupt the incoming signal. But we’re not safe. He’s still going to explode. Soon. Some of the nano-explosives inside his body are concentrating in his chest. When they reach critical mass, he’ll detonate.”

  “We can put him into an armored vehicle—isolate him there.”

  “The electronics might detonate the explosives before he gets inside. And believe me, you don’t want this version of the virus airborne.” The cutie-pie hesitated for a moment, her lower lip quivering. “But if we get him to the river, submerge him before he blows . . . I believe this new version of the virus is water soluble. We might be able to dissipate its effects that way.”

  Jefferson shook his head. “How are you going to get there?”

  The cutie-pie said, “With this controller, I can help him walk.”