The Susquehanna Virus Box Set

by Steve McEllistrem

  She wished Jeremiah were here to tell her if she should wait. She forced herself to remain calm. Uncertainty poisoned her mind.

  Wilson pointed at her and said, “I want that interface.”

  Zora shrugged and pulled it from her temple. She held it out to him but he gestured for her to put it on Lendra’s desk with a dozen others. Taking a step forward, she set it beside them.

  “I also want Jeremiah Jones,” Wilson spoke to the room. “Some of you know his whereabouts. You can tell me now or later. But you will tell me.”

  The mention of Jeremiah energized her further. She looked at Curtik, his eyes widening slightly, and she nodded, realizing they might never have a better opportunity. Then she moved.

  She went for the two closest Elite Ops troopers first, moving faster than she’d ever moved before, the room and its contents becoming almost a blur. With her peripheral vision, she saw Curtik moving too.

  The troopers swung their Las-rifles around. Curtik reached a trooper and punched him in the throat as he fired. Zora did the same to the trooper nearest her, managing to hit him just as he pulled the trigger. The remaining two troopers fired into the crowd as Zora and Curtik took them out with hands to the throat. Zora heard screams. Wilson, just now figuring out what was happening, called for help but his Elite Ops troopers must have already received a warning because Zora heard troopers running down the hall.

  She ignored the screams and cries, darting across the room and punching the side of Wilson’s head. He fell like a sack of potatoes. Glancing at the vid Jay-Edgar had put on a screen, she saw the troopers congregating by the door. Almost immediately, however, the screen went dark.

  “Stay outside,” Curtik yelled, “or your boss is dead.”

  “You think that’ll hold them?” Zora asked.

  “For a minute, maybe.” Grinning, Curtik lifted the particle beam cannon from the unconscious trooper who’d been carrying it.

  As Curtik picked up the troopers’ Las-rifles, Zora removed Wilson’s interface, then retrieved hers from the desk and planted it on her temple. Curtik tossed her a Las-rifle while Dr. Poole handed Jack to Lendra and bent to assist the wounded. Both Sophie and Jack were crying. Three people had been shot.

  “It would be so cool to fire one of these bad boys,” Curtik said as he caressed the particle beam cannon, “but I suppose I ought to give it to one of the robots. Which one of you wants it?”

  Neither robot moved.

  “I know your research robots,” Curtik said, “but these things have a helluva kick, even for me. I know how to fire it, but I’ve only used one a couple times before and I’m not used to the kick yet. I might hurt someone. You’re strong enough to fire it indoors without destroying half the building.”

  He held out the particle beam cannon until the gray robot stepped forward and took it.

  “What are you doing?” Lendra said.

  “We’re finishing what Jeremiah started,” said Zora. She held up Wilson’s interface. “I’m not sure we can get him to tell us what he knows. Jeremiah put three truth packs on him and he just passed out. But probably everything he knows is stored in this interface. If we can hack into that, we can broadcast its contents to the world.”

  “I’ll try,” Jay-Edgar said as Eli nudged him forward.

  Lendra, hugging Sophie and Jack, looked at Jay-Edgar for a moment before nodding. When Zora lobbed the interface his way, he caught it and eased it against his temple. His eyes took on a glassy appearance as he stared straight ahead.

  “Who else wants a Las-rifle?” Curtik asked.

  “Me.” A well-built man stepped forward. “I’m Adler,” he said. “I’ve been stuck in Analytical but I trained as a field agent.”

  “Good,” said Curtik. “We’ve got one left. Who gets it?”

  Everyone looked at Lendra. “Not me,” she said as she bounced gently in her attempt to soothe Sophie and Jack. “Give it to Dell.”

  Another analyst stepped forward and took the Las-rifle from Curtik.

  “We’re armed,” Curtik called out. “We’ve even got a particle beam cannon and we’re willing to shoot if you break down the door.”

  No answer came. In fact, the quiet in the hall felt unnatural. Zora made her way forward and put her ear on the door. She heard the whine of the troopers’ power packs on the other side. Backing away a few steps, she said, “I hear them out there.”

  “Now what?” Curtik asked.

  Half the people in the room looked at Zora, the other half turned to Lendra, but it was Eli who broke the silence: “Wake up Wilson.”

  “Good idea,” Lendra said.

  Dr. Poole stopped her ministrations on the wounded and made her way to Wilson’s side.

  “One thing I’ve learned in all my years,” said Eli, “is that men in power want to stay in power. They’re all afraid of death, not because it’s death, but because it’s the end of power.”

  “We should also get the President on the vid,” Lendra said as she continued to caress Jack and Sophie, who had stopped crying.

  One of the analysts hurried forward past Jay-Edgar, who stood like a statue, his eyes unfocused as he attempted to hack into Wilson’s interface. The analyst reached the comm board and took a few seconds to get a connection. “Okay,” she said.

  President Hope appeared via holo-projection, her image distorted by the people who stood where the projection arose.

  “What’s going on over there?” President Hope asked as people scurried out of the way of the projection.

  “We have a sort of standoff,” Lendra replied. “We’re attempting to release the last bit of information from the conspiracy to infect the American people with the virus. We’ve captured Scott Wilson and we’re armed.”

  “Do you have any idea of the damage you’re causing? Do you know how many people could die as a result of your actions? There will be rioting in the streets. Chaos. Tens of thousands will die in the attempt to restore order.”

  “That’s already happening,” Lendra said.

  “It will get worse,” President Hope replied. “Stand down immediately.”

  Lendra’s eyes locked on Curtik.

  “Not a chance,” he said.

  “Zora?” Lendra asked, turning to face her.

  Zora smiled, glancing at Curtik, and said, “Death, then surrender.” She felt proud in that moment, knowing Jeremiah would be pleased that she and Curtik were following in his footsteps, doing what was necessary despite their leaders’ insistence they follow orders.

  Lendra continued to look around the room. Every head nodded except Jay-Edgar’s. He was still focused on Wilson’s interface.

  “Why can’t the truth be known?” Lendra asked.

  “We have no time to argue,” President Hope said. “You will stand down immediately or I will order the Elite Ops to attack.”

  “What is the rush?”

  President Hope looked off-camera and nodded.

  The door to the office exploded inward as the sound of a particle beam cannon echoed. Elite Ops troopers rushed inside, firing in all directions, red laser pulses intended to kill. Curtik dove left. Zora went right. She brought her Las-rifle up and fired as Curtik did the same.

  In a split second, part of her mind registered the chaos erupting behind her. Part of her focused on her targets, a realization that she would have to spray the Elite Ops with a continuous purple laser pulse—a pulse strong enough to knock them out, but not lethal. Part of her noticed the gray robot standing immobile, its particle beam cannon pointed toward the door, but not firing at the oncoming troopers. And part of her noted the impossibility of survival given the vast amount of lethal fire directed their way. No one could survive such an onslaught. It seemed as heavy as the barrage that felled Jeremiah.

  She mourned her upcoming death, the deaths of Sophie and Jack, Curtik and Dr. Poole, Lendr
a and even Eli, but the fight was impossible to avoid, the ending inevitable.

  And then a bright light enveloped the room, a warmth emanating from it that brought a sense of peace. All the laser strikes vanished as if they’d never been and everyone stopped moving. She found herself wrapped in a blanket of love.

  “Enough!” The voice spoke with authority, a voice that was neither male nor female but in complete control. In the center of the room, in the center of the light, a figure grew. At first she thought it was Jeremiah, then Devereaux, but it continued to transform into a giant that could have been either a man or woman, wearing a white robe, with long flowing hair of gold that cascaded down its shoulders. The giant looked to be of every race and none, radiant beyond anything she’d ever seen. As Zora stared at the creature, its beauty began to hurt until the image actually became painful to her eyes.

  She sensed the awe in every mind, the recognition that they were in the presence of God, or what passed for God: a power so supreme, so beyond human that they were diminished into insignificance.

  People dropped to their knees, crossing themselves. Others held up their hands to shield their eyes. Even President Hope, through the holo-projection, held up her hands and squinted as she gazed upon the majesty before her.

  “I am displeased,” God said.

  Chapter 47

  Taditha Poole found herself kneeling, uncertain how she’d gotten there. This being, this God, in front of her seemed taller than the ceiling, though that wasn’t possible, and it emanated a warmth that enveloped her. Had Armageddon arrived? The second coming? The end of humanity upon Earth? Beside her, Scott Wilson cringed, holding up his hands in front of his face, as if trying to push the image away.

  God spoke: “You have destroyed too many of my favorite children. You will destroy no more.”

  President Hope said, “Are you really God?”

  Poole was impressed. She herself could find no words in this holy presence. Perhaps President Hope was aided by the fact that she was only here via holo-projection.

  “Kill it,” Wilson croaked, his words barely audible.

  God turned toward Wilson, focusing attention on the man with an intensity that made Poole shrink back, attempting to distance herself from this maniac who was courting disaster. She felt a chill in the air around Wilson, who cringed even more, if that was possible.

  “You are not God,” Wilson said. “I don’t know what you are, but you’re not God.”

  “You will surrender,” God said, and gestured to Jay-Edgar, who removed the interface he wore. Taking a few steps toward Wilson, Jay-Edgar placed it on Wilson’s left temple.

  Wilson fell to his belly, his body shaking. On one of the screens beside the holo-projection of President Hope, data streamed—Wilson giving up his secrets at last.

  “Who are you?” President Hope asked.

  “You know who I am,” God replied, “yet you refuse to acknowledge the truth.”

  “But are you really God?”

  “If I said yes, you wouldn’t believe me. You will continue to believe what you want to believe. I am an alien. A hacker. A dream, vision or hallucination, product of a fevered mind.”

  Poole opened her mouth, astonished at her bravery, and said, “What do you want?”

  “I want you to be better than you are,” God said, turning to face her, offering a warm gaze that filled her with a kind of joy, a happiness somehow infused with sadness, “but I doubt you will be.”

  “Because we’re not perfect,” Poole said, amazing herself again.

  God laughed. All the fear Poole had been feeling dissipated in the delight God displayed. This being suddenly seemed incapable of violence or anger, bringing only joy: pure, selfless joy.

  “You are not perfect,” God agreed. “You are as far from perfect as you are from wildebeests. But try anyway.”

  And then the creature was gone, the room suddenly reverting to a mere room, every occupant shaken and dazed. The Elite Ops troopers lowered their weapons, Curtik and Zora following suit, as well as Adler and Dell, until only the gray robot remained. It continued to hold the particle beam cannon pointed toward the door. Yet it had not fired the weapon during the brief assault.

  Poole headed for Jack, still in Lendra’s arms. He seemed happy and calm, as if he’d been comforted by God as well. Relief flooded Poole. Sophie looked contented too and Lendra wore a peaceful expression Poole had never seen before. Jack reached out his arms for Poole and smiled. “Momma,” he said as she took him from Lendra and enveloped him in a hug.

  “Hello, Jackie Boy,” Poole said. “Are you okay?”

  “Zowa,” he said as he pointed at Zora. He’d never said her name before. Then he pointed at Curtik and said, “Cuttik.”

  Why had he said their names? Had he been gifted something in the encounter with God that she hadn’t? Had God enhanced his intelligence?

  “Curtik,” Sophie said, correcting Jack, better able to pronounce the difficult ‘r’ sound. “Zora.”

  Poole knew less about Sophie than Jack, but she saw the look of surprise on Lendra’s face, so Sophie had probably not said their names correctly before either. And why was Sophie speaking their names anyway? Poole wished she could ask Jack and Sophie what they’d experienced.

  “Doc?” someone said. It was Arroyal, the analyst she’d been treating when she’d been called away to wake up Wilson. She shook her head, realizing she had responsibilities.

  “I’ll take him, Doc,” Curtik said, holding out his arms.

  “Thank you,” Poole said, handing Jack over. As she made for Arroyal, she saw him standing beside several other analysts, unharmed, as if he’d never been shot.

  “Are you all right?” Poole asked.

  Arroyal nodded. “I felt this incredible warmth,” he said. “It wasn’t like the burning sensation from when I got shot. It had this comforting element to it. And when God vanished, I was healed.”

  “Me too,” Litton said. He was the analyst Poole had dismissed as dead because he’d been shot in the chest. Poole could still see the charred hole in his shirt, but beneath that his skin looked unharmed.

  “Is anyone hurt?” Poole asked.

  People shook their heads.

  Poole grabbed her interface from the desk and settled it on her temple. Using its med scanner, she examined Litton’s internal organs. They appeared to be normal, as did Arroyal’s.

  President Hope said, “We need to find out who did this and we need to know now.”

  Lendra turned to face her. “You shut us down, remember?”

  “Don’t get smart with me. And we need to stop broadcasting the data from Scott Wilson’s interface. Immediately.”

  Jay-Edgar, standing before his comm board, cleared his throat and said, “Excuse me, ma’am, but this was broadcast around the world.”

  “Can you call it back or somehow stop people from accessing the information?”

  “No, ma’am. It’s out there, sent to dozens of developed nation’s leaders via private channels. And it’s been sent via the five largest networks’ signals. It can’t be stopped.”

  “What’s the big deal?” Curtik asked. “What was so important that it had to be kept secret?”

  “I’m not sure,” Zora said. She stood beside Jay-Edgar, pointing at the data that God had forced Wilson to release, now scrolling across several screens. “Robots, can you look at this and tell us what’s happening?”

  The two robots turned to the screens, the gray one still holding its particle beam cannon, and the text on two of the screens began scrolling too fast for Poole to keep up. The white robot said, “These contain plans to infect everyone in the U.S. with various strains of the virus.”

  “There are some discrepancies,” the gray robot said. “A few of these strains are unstable and highly contagious. My calculations indicate they would kill large numbers
of the population. Other people would be susceptible to deformities or suffering.”

  Zora waved her hand at data on a third screen, highlighting a large section. “And it looks like it wouldn’t just be people in the U.S. These look like plans to infect people in other countries. Perhaps with the unstable versions?”

  “No,” President Hope said. “That’s not possible.”

  “I think Zora’s right,” Poole said. “We’ll need to dig into the details, but those are definitely plans to disperse the virus in other parts of the world—prevailing wind patterns, airspace boundaries, data on stream flow for certain waterways.”

  “It looks,” Lendra said, “like the plan was to infect everyone. I imagine other countries would be infected with these more harmful strains, many of which are fatal. This would guarantee American dominance for decades, perhaps centuries.”

  “You’re wrong,” President Hope said. “I admit we discussed scenarios and contingencies, but we were never going to do anything like that. It was one conversation that was immediately dismissed.”

  “Just a blueprint,” Wilson added.

  “Games,” Lendra said.

  “Exactly,” President Hope replied.

  “Apparently someone didn’t get the message,” Zora said.

  “What are you talking about?” Lendra asked.

  “According to this,” Zora said, waving her hand to manipulate the screen again, bringing up a new section of text. “Versions of the virus were released last week in Russia and China.”

  “Deadly versions,” the white robot said.

  “And versions that make the population less intelligent as well as more docile, less inclined to rebellion,” the gray robot added as it swung the particle beam cannon toward one of the screens like a pointer.