The Pandemic Sequence (Book 3): The Tilian Cure (20 page)

“I’m sorry it’s just… Erik? You’re here, too?” Paul added when his eyes drifted over Mike’s shoulder. “You guys picked a helluva time for a reunion!”

“You don’t know the half of it,” the tall, rebellious comic smiled as he looked to his side. In greater confusion, Paul followed the line of Erik’s gaze. Breath and thought departed in a blink as another walked towards him. Lisa. Lisa. The name repeated in his mind as he stared in disbelief.

Frozen in place, expecting his legs to surrender to gravity at any second, Paul managed only the word “how” as he felt the remembered comfort of Lisa wrapping her arms around him. The gentle softness of her hair tingled against his chin. Fearing to wake from this dream, he closed his eyes against his tears and let himself be lost in her arms.

“I’m so sorry,” Lisa murmured against his chest.

“It’s you… this is really happening? The hotel… I thought I lost you,” his voice broke in joy and disbelief. As he clung to her, the world slid beyond his consciousness as if it had winked out of existence, leaving only the two of them.

“Tell him about the baby!” Erik’s voice broke through.

“Erik!” Mike scolded.

“This is a lot of information to take in,” Paul said in bewilderment. Even thirty minutes later, gathered in the command tent, listening to Mike and Erik explain all that had occurred over the past month, his world still spun at a nauseating pace. He found unknown, long withheld truths to be staggering.

“So, you’re alive and pregnant. Councilor Duncan created the virus at Fort Polk, where you and Marena worked. The crew of the Mohawk has orders to kill me. You have some audio gizmo that stops Tils, but it’s broken. And Michelle went back to New Cuba with a guy named Matt to kill Duncan and get more of the gizmos?”

“In a nutshell,” Erik affirmed as Mike said, “Pretty much.”

Beyond the confines of the command tent, Paul knew members of the Horde were having their own bittersweet and confusing reunions. He doubted though, that any rivaled the level of bafflement now plaguing him. Focusing on the gravity of the new information had been a challenge, as his eyes continued to be drawn back to Lisa, as if to reassure that she was indeed real.

She had said little since the return to the camp, offering brief comments and details during the conversation. Hearing of her involvement with the Ira Project, as tangential as it was, had brought a gaping expression of disbelief to his face. Seeing his reaction, Lisa had become even more reserved. She’s worried that it will change how I feel about her, Paul mused. Does it? Should it? He decided all that would have to wait, and turned his thoughts back to the ramifications to the defense plans that the return of nearly two hundred refugees was sure to cause. Refugees that were either too ill or incapable of fighting.

The dynamic had shifted, and it was still too soon to discern how the shift would play out. The presence of their loved ones might push the Horde to an even more vigorous defense of the line. Or it might make some members abandon their posts if they saw a threat moving towards family.

“Derrick, take the… ARC, right? Take the ARC and see what our tech guys can make of it,” Paul began as he prioritized several next steps. “If the rest of you are not too tired, I’ll show you the camp and its defenses.”

As everyone stood to rise, Lisa spoke timidly. “I’ll go with Derrick. I’m the most familiar with the ARC, so I might be able to explain it better to your people.”

“That’d be great,” he told her with a smile, when in truth he wanted to bind her to his side for the next hundred years. Anything to keep from losing her again.

“How long has the howling been going on?” Mike asked.

“Started just before you arrived actually,” his former second-in-command answered.

“They must know how I like a warm greeting.”

Having regretted superseding Derrick’s leadership earlier, Mike was taking every effort to ensure his respect for Paul’s position was evident in both word and deed, and that respect was sincere. For the better part of an hour, he had travelled from one corner of the camp to another in utter awe. The Horde’s self-sufficiency was beyond laudable. The sheer size and scope of the camp, as well as the defensive measures established recently, deserved limitless praise. He was quick to note, as well, that at every turn Horde-folk greeted Paul with more than a little reverence. In only a matter of weeks, he’s won them over completely, he thought mirthfully. Man, he’s got the gift.

“So, what do you think?” Paul asked.

“Impressive,” he told him. “I don’t see what else could be done defense-wise. The camp’s big, huge really, but I think what you’ve planned is good.” Paul had walked him through the various tactics and Mike thought of no other additions to the strategy. Except for the ARC. Three men, each with an extensive history in electronics, were tasked with examining the device. No word yet had come to him regarding its status, but he knew, even with all of the camp’s defenses, the ARC was the most powerful weapon at their disposal. If it can be fixed.

“Sir,” one of the camp’s youth called out. “The tents are ready.” With a wave and a dip of his chin, Paul thanked the boy, who then ran off into the maze of tents.

“Thank God,” Erik moaned. Mike, too, had been feeling the effects of nearly twenty-four hours of wakefulness, much of which was spent walking countless miles in Texan heat.

“Come on,” Paul offered. “I’ll show you where you’re sleeping.”

Crossing the camp back towards the command tent, Paul led the pair to their quarters for the night. Only paces from the Horde leader’s own tent, two new canvas dwellings had been erected. Wasting little time, Erik parted from the small group and ducked inside the first tent.

Moving towards the remaining shelter, Gazelle at his heels, he turned to Paul. “Do you really think there’s that many of them out there?”

“I didn’t at first,” the other man replied. “But, now… yeah, I do.”

With an empathic nod, Mike spoke what he knew both were feeling, “The Last Stand;” the capitalization clear in his tone. “Get some rest, Paul. You look like crap,” he laughed before turning back to his tent.

“Hey, Mike…”

“Yeah?”

“It’s good to have you back,” shared his old friend. Mike understood the meaning and offered one final nod before ducking inside the brown canvas tent.

Dawn had long since given way to mid-morning before Lisa found the courage to return to Paul’s tent. She knew she had perhaps stayed longer with the men now examining the ARC than needed. Derrick had retired nearly an hour before. Try as she might to convince herself it was interest in the ARC’s repair that caused the delay, the nervous tumbles of her stomach betrayed the truth. Surrendering to the inevitable, she took her leave of the three men working on the device. With a hard swallow, Lisa approached the camp headquarters. Two men, guards by their wary rigidity, moved aside and opened the tent flap for her entrance.

“I was wondering when you were coming back,” Paul said to her once the canvas closed behind her.

“Your people are still working on the ARC,” she returned as an answer. A flash of panic crossed her mind as she tried to read Paul’s demeanor. He stood behind his desk, his weary eyes, bloodshot from exhaustion, were unreadable as he stared at her. His expression exposed little, save for traces of stress and worry over the coming days. Lisa studied him for a silent moment. If he felt anger, forgiveness, disgust, or joy, its signs were beyond her perception.

“I… um… I can come back if you’re busy.” The words came without thought, her nerves needing something to break the tense quiet. Paul moved around the side of the desk and walked slowly toward her. She felt herself tense briefly before thinking I shouldn’t have told him…

The thought evaporated as Paul took her into his arms. He had embraced her earlier, upon first seeing her alive, before knowing her truth. When he held her now, she knew he did so with full awareness.

“You could’ve told me,” he whispered. “Nothing would change how much I love you. Never.” The emotional dam which held back the damage from weeks of travel, exhaustion, battle, tension, and fear shattered. Tears of many breeds fell freely from them both as they clung to each other.

He found no difficulty sleeping in the bright light of midday. What did disturb Mike’s rest was a strong need for water. Rising from the cot, he found someone had placed several water bottles and pieces of plastic-wrapped grilled chicken on the small table near the entry.

“Too tired for guard duty?” he said to Gazelle who lay curled up on the cot. She replied with the slightest opening of one eye before resuming her nap. The water was warm, as was everything in the hot noon sun, but worked to quench his thirst. His stomach sounded a loud grumbling, prompting him to unwrap the chicken. Surprisingly well-spiced and succulent, Mike consumed both pieces rapidly, licking the juice from his fingers. A pang of guilt hit him when realizing he had left nothing but the bones for Gazelle. It was unusual for her to remain asleep while a meal was being had. Mike looked across the tent floor to find both a water bowl and food dish had been set out for his canine companion.

“I see how it is,” he laughed as he sat back on the cot. Gazelle unfurled her body to expose her underbelly. Long trained in obeying her hints, Mike scratched her stomach gently. “You ate without waking me up, huh? I expect that from Erik, not you, girl.”

Eyes closed, Gazelle offered only a soft, self-satisfied grunt as Mike continued to rub her chest until both again returned to sleep.

“You gotta teach me how to use this thing,” Erik exclaimed as he slashed the air with Derrick’s katana.

Laughing, Derrick replied. “I don’t think I really know how to use it. Not like a professional, anyway. But I have gotten pretty decent with it.”

Once the ARC was in the hands of people skilled in potentially fixing the device, Derrick had allowed himself the luxury of much needed sleep. The Tils had stopped their keening wails with the rise of the sun, and he had woken hours later to find much of the day had passed. Shortly after three o’clock, the heat trapped in the tent grew to unbearable thickness, and he had blinked himself awake.

After washing away a full day’s march of road from his body, he had sought out Erik in the neighboring tent. The two had spent more minutes than either realized in excited conversation. Derrick marveled how easily he and his old friend could slip back into the familiar. A year had passed, yet he felt as if they were continuing a conversation from only days earlier. They spent some brief time talking over the time apart, but mostly they talked about all the inconsequential minutiae friends share, yet rarely recall.

“You guys ready?” Mike asked as he passed by the tent. Paul had invited them to have dinner with him and Lisa in the command tent. Accepting the return of the sword from Erik, both joined their former teacher as they walked the few paces to their meal.

As though transported to a different time and place, the survivors of the mountain camp laughed and joked throughout dinner. Boisterous voices sounded loudly, loudly enough to drown out the screaming Tils whose own voices had returned with dusk. Mike smiled as he enjoyed the company of those around him.

Erik and Derrick had fallen back into their old comedic clowning quickly. The impressions had been seen thousands of times, the jokes told repeatedly over the years, but on this night Mike laughed more freely as the pair entertained. At certain moments, he could see a flash of loss in their eyes when the two thought of their missing sidekick.

Paul and Lisa, free hands clasped whenever possible, seemed unwilling to be more than a hair’s breadth apart. Mike had not doubted the man’s forgiving nature, but it did warm him to see his brother-in-arms so deeply content.

The family was reunited—but for Michelle, to whom he sent silent wishes of luck—and Mike felt a moment of peace, of happiness. He wondered if under different circumstances, in a world without the Tilian Virus, these same people could have loved each other so sincerely. Likely Erik would have ended up in jail, while Derrick was playing college ball and Paul…

“Sir!” came the urgent shout from the tent entrance. The presence of an outsider, one not part of the family, brought a startled silence.

“What’s wrong?” Paul asked the guard whose tone and stance exuded worry.

“Red flare, sir.”

Erik turned to Paul. “Red flare? What’s that mean?”

Mike watched Paul rise from the table. The movement was slow and seemed almost pained, as if gravity was doubling its force on the man. Seated at the table’s opposite head, Mike raised his gaze to the Horde’s leader. Their eyes locked as Paul answered. “It means the attack has begun.”

That her hands were bound was the first sensation she identified, as her body stirred to consciousness. The second was the residual ringing in her ears from the stun grenade the guards had used against her. Thin voices sounded nearby, but the speech was too low to overcome her temporary hearing deficit. Michelle opened her eyes fractionally, hoping to avoid detection while she gauged her surroundings. Though her chin rested against her chest, she immediately recognized the room to be Councilor Duncan’s office.