The Demon Plagues (31 page)

“Did you see that Navy chaplain? Woo, she is
hot!” Bill Holden, the speaker, reached for his beer but McCarthy
rapped his own bottle onto the top of Bill’s causing an instant
foaming effect, spilling it onto the table. “You dick!”

“Look at that foam spurt, just like what you
were thinking about.” McCarthy laughed.

“Navy chaplain? What’s her name?” Jill
asked.

“Commander!” laughed Huff, a little too
loud.

“No, really, I knew a Navy chaplain when I
was younger. I can’t remember her name…” Jill fished, trying not to
seem too eager.

“It’s Forman,” cackled McCarthy, more than
slightly drunk. “I wonder if she lives up to her name. Get it – for
man?”

“Chill out, McCarthy,” warned Huff. “The
General hears you talking like that – or
were
talking like
that – and you might be out on the street. Not that I care, then I
wouldn’t have to babysit your sorry ass through basic first aid
class.”

“Ah, you PJs, you think you’re such hot shit
with your medical shit, let’s see how shit-hot you are in some real
shit.”

“You’re drunk, McCarthy, you said ‘shit’ four
times in one sentence, you stupid shit.” Huff laughed heavily,
tongue out,
haa-haa-haa
.

Jill wrapped her arm around McCarthy’s huge
biceps and whispered in his ear, “Let’s get out of here.” Two
minutes later they were leaving the club, Huff’s eyes on them all
the way.

I wonder what he’s thinking. I’m not cut out
for covert ops, play-acting and wondering what everyone knows or
suspects.

They walked the hundred yards to McCarthy’s
barracks block. Jill let him play some grabass to distract from her
questioning, but she eventually got the approximate location of
Forman’s room. She hoped he was too drunk to remember her inquiries
in the morning. At his door he surprised her by going in for a
sudden, violent kiss.

Jill pushed him and his tongue away,
controlling her anger. She played her trump card. “So…you’ve never
been with an Eden?”

He stared at her, bleary-eyed and swaying.
“What do you mean?”

“An Eden Plague carrier. We’re all legal now.
You don’t know what fun is until you been with one of us.”

Realization overcame him and he stumbled
backward, scrabbling at his doorknob while spitting on the ground.
“Uh…no…Jesus, bitch, go away!” The revulsion on his face was
comical. His door slammed and she heard him lock it behind him.

She repressed a twinge, feeling insulted
despite her understanding. It had been a long time since she had to
deal with this kind of naked bigotry. It made her wonder what the
US was really like these days.

Jogging quickly back to the club, she watched
out for Huff and the rest of his jocks. Not seeing them, she
retrieved her backpack and slipped back out, making her way through
the near-deserted streets to the officer quarters McCarthy had
indicated.

All she knew was that Forman had a room on
the third floor. She was lucky someone as boneheaded and drunk as
McCarthy had been able to tell her that much. Eight rooms – studio
apartments really – on each level, from what she could see of the
configuration. As she climbed the stairs she wondered how she was
going to find the right one.

God bless the Army and its anal ways, name
tags!
Each door sported a small metal frame to hold a
three-by-five card, with rank and name hand-printed on it. Twenty
seconds later she was knocking quietly on Forman’s door. When it
opened, the two women stared at each other across the threshold and
across ten long years, stunned seconds ticking by. Jill, prepared,
finally broke the tableau as she reached out to hug Christine. They
clung together, tears of joy and reunion streaming down.

Inside, they caught up on ten years of war
and peace.

Forman told of her work in the new
Underground Railroad, smuggling Edens out of the UGNA, mostly
through Canada, where the populace was more sympathetic to basic
decency and unwilling to cooperate with the Unionists. The Edens
would be sent by air or sea across to Greenland or Iceland or the
British Isles to find asylum. She told how she was eventually
caught, but as one of the wealthy and powerful Jenkins family, she
was protected from the worst punishments, only having to endure
grueling interrogations and a relatively humane prison cell, not
the dungeons and torture chambers of the SS. She’d been clever – or
wise – enough not to become infected with the Eden Plague back
then, which spared her the concentration camp.

In her turn Jill told of escaping from
Bethesda and attempting to rejoin her unit, only to go AWOL when
the directive to arrest all Eden Plague carriers came from the
President; of flight across the South into Mexico, still possible
before the Unionists took power; of fleeing to South America when
the UGNA annexed Mexico, eventually to link up with the
newly-formed Free Communities Armed Forces under Daniel Markis; of
a life of raids into enemy territory to free imprisoned Edens and
damage the mechanisms of repression; and finally, of her role in
the launch of scores of nuclear weapons.

The guilt of that action, so recent but
ruthlessly suppressed, poured out of her, and Christine Forman
absorbed and accepted it, her arms wrapped around the younger
woman, rocking her as Jill sobbed with remorse.

“I was so stupid! I had so many chances to
head her off – if I’d showered at a different time, if I’d just
seen what she was…Kelley and Harres and Doc would be alive, and so
would all those other people.”

“It wasn’t your fault,” soothed the chaplain.
“You weren’t in charge. Your Colonel was, and he should have seen
what was going on. He knew she was a Psycho but he left her with
the run of the sub instead of locking her up. You can’t be
responsible for bad command decisions.”

Jill shook her head, pulling away. “I know
that…but now that you mention it, I didn’t think of the fact that
he should have just locked her up. As soon as he was pretty sure
she was a Psycho, why didn’t he neutralize her as a threat? He
wasn’t the type to make that kind of mistake.”

“Perhaps it wasn’t a mistake.”

Jill stared at Christine in horror. “You mean
he wanted it to happen?”

Forman shrugged. “I don’t know. I’m just
saying I’ve always had a good nose for when something stinks, and
something about what you told me seems off. So you can stop beating
yourself up about it. You did the best you could, and God will be
the final judge. We can only do our best in this life, accept His
grace and forgiveness, even when we can’t forgive ourselves.”

“I wish I could believe that.”

“You can, Jill. When you’re ready, just pray,
and He will forgive you.”

Repeth looked down at her hands. “Okay,
I’ll…I’ll think about it.”

Christine patted Jill’s hands. “Good. Now,
why are you here?”

“We got your message. Our intel people put
the clues together – you being brought here, the Tiny Fortress
project – but we desperately need information. The Free Community
bio-research program hasn’t been able to find a way to defend Edens
from the Demon Plague. And the EP is incurable. The best we can do
is suppress the immune system overreaction but there aren’t enough
drugs and hospitals left in the Free Communities for widespread
treatment. Millions died in the initial Demon Plague drop, before
quarantine measures limited further damage. We have to have a cure,
or some kind of treatment! Chairman Markis believes the nanobot
technology will provide it – if the Americans will share it. But he
just went to talk to President McKenna today and he denied all
knowledge of the project. Markis is convinced he knew but he’s
terrified of something or someone. We have to find out what, or
who, and the key is somewhere here.”

Forman sat back, crossing her arms. “That’s a
long chain of reasoning, assumptions and guesswork. But I’ll try to
find something out. I can’t promise anything. I really wanted a new
start here, without divided loyalties, now that the Unionists are
gone.”

“They might not be gone – or something worse
might be lurking under the surface. The US is weak and
disorganized, people are fearful – fertile ground for another
seizure of power. And if they get these nanobots really working,
there’s no telling what they might do.”

“I know. Salvation or damnation.”

Jill nodded. “Either way, it’s a lot of
power. In the wrong hands it might doom the human race.”

-37-

President McKenna sat by the cold fireplace
in the New White House study. The fact that this replacement
Presidential mansion used to be owned by a Hollywood star, now
dead, only added to its chic in the public mind. Even in times of
great difficulty, people wanted to touch glamour.

Today he nursed a Scotch, waiting for the
inevitable visit. When the shadow slipped in through the side door,
it was a relief; McKenna wasn’t a weak man but he didn’t have the
nerves of steel he wished.

The man spoke from the darkness. “I can’t
believe you let Markis go. You should have notified me right away,
and held him here.”

“Can you imagine the reaction from the rest
of the world if we’d have detained him? Our economy is in shambles
as it is; we have people starving, for God's sake! Not to mention
radiation poisoning leading to widespread demand for the Eden
Plague, leading to Sickos – sorry, Edens – being beaten or lynched
by mobs, and our security forces are stretched thin, we have
desertions from the ranks, the dollar is becoming worthless with
the hyperinflation – do you want me to go on? The Mexicans and the
Canadians could invade us with Cub Scouts and we’d have to
capitulate, so don’t lecture me about what I should have done.”

“You really ought to be careful how you talk
to me, Nathan.”

McKenna stood up, tossing off his Scotch.
“You see? With all our problems, your main concern is how you feel
disrespected, and how you get to call the President of the United
States by his first name. Even someone like you should be able to
see how bad things are and deal with reality as it is, and let the
little things go. And if you get rid of me, the next guy might be
worse. I’m holding this country together right now because I have
the experience and the contacts to do it. You need to do your job
and get those nanobots working. If not, you’re going to end up
losing me anyway.”

“Is that a threat?” The shadow stilled,
quivering with suppressed rage.

The other man sighed. “No, it’s just a fact
of life. The cancer’s going to get me eventually, unless the
nanobots can cure it, or you let me have the Eden Plague. Three
outcomes, only one of which is good for you. Unless you think this
country’s ready for someone like you to step into the light and be
the next Fuhrer.”

The shadow ground his teeth, then backed up
to the door. “Maybe I will. Don’t push me.” He set an injector on
the table by the door, then he was gone.

McKenna shook his head and poured himself
another drink, willing himself to ignore the thing his tormenter
had left, the thing calling to him. He held out as long as he
could, then walked slowly, deliberately, painfully over to the tiny
device. He picked it up, set it against his neck, and pushed the
button. It fired its blessed relief into his veins, granting him
another day.

***

JT Tyler knocked on the door of his father’s
den. The General called for him to come in from his seat in an old
leather armchair. A bright reading lamp nearby illuminated the
hardbound copy of
The Rise and Fall of the Third Reich
in
his hands.

“Hey, Dad. Did you hear about Markis’ visit?
Wild, huh?”

“Yes,” agreed the older man. “Flies in, sees
the President, then flies right back out before anyone really knows
what’s going on. I phoned McKenna and he was kind enough to tell me
that Markis wanted to know about Tiny Fortress. When McKenna denied
all knowledge and told him to leave, Markis took off right away.
I’m not so sure that was the right play.”

“Yeah…I think he should have tried to string
him along, see what Markis really knew. I’m sure their spies heard
the name and probably the general area of research for the program,
but it would have been useful to find out just how much they
knew.”

The General put the book aside, folding his
hands. “Sit down, son. The real question is, why did he come in
person? That’s unprecedented. One head of state showing up
unannounced for, what, some kind of impromptu summit? Why did he do
it?”

JT sat down, throwing his booted feet
negligently up on the leg of the leather sofa. “Skull says Markis
loves the grand gesture.”

“But a gesture to do what?” Travis insisted.
“When he went to Geneva, he was trying to strike a deal.”

“Yes, that went well,” JT said sarcastically.
“What SS moron dreamed that up?”

“Actually, the question is, how did they get
their hands on nanobots? Isn’t lab security your area?” The old
general looked sharply at his son.

“I know, and I’m sorry, our investigation
turned up nothing, as I told you. But I’m still digging. Or maybe
Markis lied...Edens can lie, you know. Back to your question…you
think he was looking to make some kind of deal?”

“Yes, I do. It may be related to Denham.”

JT raised his eyebrows in surprise. “What, he
knew about Skull coming here? That he had something to do with
it?”

“Curious timing, don’t you think?”

“You think he’d trust a non-Eden killer like
Skull?”

“If he knew him well…and we know they were
buddies.”

“The way I hear, they didn’t get along.”

“Neither do we sometimes, son. Don’t mean we
ain’t family. But I wonder what kind of deal he was looking
for?”

“Maybe we should ask Denham.”