AntiBio: A Post Apocalyptic Thriller (16 page)

31

“Static weapon signatures
previously detected are moving closer,” the AiSP announces. “Engagement in fifteen seconds.”

Four Clean Guard troopers spi
n about in their seats, hands integrating into the transport’s weapons control ports.

“IRIS up,” Dr. DeBeers says. “AiSP? Assign each trooper a target and open ports. We do not have time to stop
, and need to take out these things right now.”

The troopers’ eyes all go black and they stand and turn to the walls as small portholes open wide enough to slide their rifles through. The image of the landscape is superimposed across their retinas and they are each assigned a static weapon signature to target.

“AiSP? Take control of the Clean Guard,” Dr. DeBeers orders. “They are yours.”

“Yes, doctor,” the AiSP replies.

“Hold on now,” the driver protests. “You can’t take over an entire transport of Clean Guard! AiSPs are not allowed-”

He goes
quiet, as his eyes turn black.

“Thank you, AiSP,” Dr. DeBeers says. “I do not brook dissension of that sort. Activate full view on my ISIS.”

“Done, doctor,” the AiSP says. “Engagement in one second.”

The transport begins to shake and shudder as blast after blast hits it.  The troopers all respond in kind and soon the attack is over. Fifty yards of travel and the battle is done.

“Any survivors?” Dr. DeBeers asks.

“No, doctor,” the AiSP replies. “Shall I relinquish control of the Clean Guard?”

“No, there could be more along the route,” Dr. DeBeers says. “It’ll be easier if you maintain control over the troopers during the duration of the trip.”

“Understood, doctor,” the AiSP says. “Would you care for an update on Sergeant Crouch?”

“No,” Dr. DeBeers replies. “I will examine him myself.”

She moves to the seat next to where Blaze is strapped in, shoving two troopers out of the way. When a hard slap to the cheek doesn’t rouse him, she pulls a baton, adjusts the charge, and jams it against his ribs. One shock and his eyes are wide open, his hands and feet struggling against his bonds.

“What the fuck?” he shouts. “What the hell?”

“Hello, Sergeant Crouch,” Dr. DeBeers says. “May I call you Simon? Or do you prefer your squad nickname of Blaze? I believe that is what your traitor of a girlfriend calls you as well.”

Blaze studies his surroundings, taking in the details of the Clean Guard transport. He quickly realizes the troopers are all under AiSP control. Easy to spot if you know the body language.

“Did you kill my squad?” Blaze asks. “Are they dead?”

“They will be,” Dr. DeBeers says. “Although I haven’t heard from the Slides yet. AiSP? Have any riders reported?”

“No, doctor,” the AiSP responds in the doctor’s com only. “I do show Slides still operational, but not moving. Unfortunately, my control of the troopers is limiting my ability to check vital signs on the riders.
However, I am detecting-”

“Doesn’t matter,” Dr. DeBeers says. “Even if they killed the riders, they won’t last long in the Sicklands without an operational transport or an AiSP.”

“We’re GenSOF,” Blaze says defiantly. “We can handle anything.”

“Couldn’t handle the Clean Guard though,” Dr. DeBeers says
then coughs. “But I’m not here to measure dicks, Sergeant. I’m here to get you to Control safe and sound. You are a very valuable commodity.”

“I’m just an operator,” Blaze says. “Loyal to the Clean Nation cities and Control. I honestly don’t know why you are doing this.”

“No, of course you don’t,” Dr. DeBeers says. “Why would you? You take orders and carry out orders.” She waves her hand over his body and his vital statistics show up on her IRIS. “Oh, except for when you illegally leave GenSOF tower to go slumming with that slut of yours.”

Blaze narrows his eyes, but doesn’t take the bait.

“Impressive discipline,” Dr. DeBeers says. “Your pulse barely elevated at the insult. I would imagine your pulse
would
rise if I told you that your girlfriend is most likely dead. No? Interesting.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Blaze says.

“Sure you do,” Dr. DeBeers says, waving her other hand in the air.  The image of Jersey Cale comes up, floating in mid air. “You’ve known this woman since you were adolescents. You were a known couple, getting close to registering, before you were inducted into GenSOF.”

“I knew my duty,” Blaze says. “Very few have the genetic makeup to become GenSOF. I couldn’t be selfish and choose my personal life over the lives of others.”

“So brave,” Dr. DeBeers says. “No wonder she’s enthralled by you. It is a pity that has gotten her killed.”

Blaze watches as the image of Jersey is replaced by one of the damaged transport. Paulo is standing by the hatch with two men and a woman that Blaze doesn’t recognize. They are talking and pointing, but Blaze can’t hear what they are saying. Then a person leans out of the hatch, her face red as she starts yelling at the men and woman.

Jersey.

“Not hard to fake,” Blaze says. “There’s no way she’s at the transport. Where would she have even…”

“Is your brain catching up?” Dr. DeBeers asks. “I hope so because I would rather not have to explain every detail.”

“Who are in the other cylinders?” Blaze asks. “My mom? My kindergarten teacher?”

“No, no,” Dr. DeBeers says. “Just some debutante and two pieces of Burn trash. I believe you saved the debutante from the Burn trash the other day.”

“Who…? Oh, right,” Blaze nods. It all comes back.
It was the young woman’s image he saw back in the transport bay when the cylinders were being loaded. He didn’t make the connection then, but now it makes sense.

“Are you with me now?” Dr. DeBeers asks.

“Them? Why them?” Blaze asks. “I don’t even know them.”

“Really? No? But you
had contact with them,” Dr. DeBeers says. “It has taken us so long to figure out where you go and who you see. It was beyond fortuitous that I was in Caldicott City when it happened.”

“When what happened?”

“When your guard was finally let down,” Dr. DeBeers says. “For a split second, your location was logged outside the GenSOF tower.”

Blaze thought back to the young woman and the Cleaner she set off. Shit. It had fried his medallion briefly before Worm could get it operational again. That must have been when they tagged him.

“I can see how hard you are thinking,” Dr. DeBeers says. “Let me fill in some details. We found your signal then triangulated that with possible citizens you may have known.”

“I was just out for a walk,” Blaze says. “It gets claustrophobic in the tower sometimes.”

“I’m sure that excuse would have worked with GenSOF brass,” Dr. DeBeers laughed. “They would have demoted you, put you on some horrible duty that insults operators, but they would have let it slide. But they didn’t find you out, Control did.”

“So what? You found me on a walk. Good for you.”

“Good for Ms. Cale,” Dr. DeBeers says, tapping Blaze in the chest. “Because now we have confirmation that exposure to you is not lethal. At least not biologically. Exposure to you emotionally hasn’t proved to be very good for her, though. It resulted in her being tossed into a stasis cylinder and getting left in the Sicklands. Which is a total waste since her system would have proven that the unauthorized bacteria inside you are not only Strain resistant, but non-lethal to others.”

Blaze just stares at her, not comprehending a thing she is saying. Dr. DeBeers sighs.

“We aren’t the bad guys, Sergeant,” she says. “You have been experimented on without your consent.”

“GenSOF can conduct any research it wants,” Blaze states. “That’s part of the job.”

“I’m not talking about GenSOF or Control,” Dr. DeBeers says. “I’m talking about those GenWrecks. I’m talking about the resistance. They inoculated you with a new bacterial culture in hopes of overthrowing the Strains. Early results are promising. Ms. Cole’s bacterial load has been changing over time according to her health scans. But we need an actual autopsy to confirm specific new strains.”

“Her loads? What do you mean?” Blaze asks. “God…we were so careful. No contact unless her StatShield was in place.” He blanches. “Wait, did you say autopsy?”

“StatShields,” Dr. DeBeers snorts, ignoring Blaze’s autopsy question. “They are not nearly as effective as the general population is lead to believe.” She pats his shoulder. “If you have intercourse with a woman and ejaculate inside her, even with the StatShield set to full protection, which would include vaginal protection, there is still going to be contamination. It may be safe for general population to copulate freely, but not a GenSOF operator. At the risk of sounding crude, your load is too strong.”

“You think this is funny, don’t you?” Blaze snaps.

“Not at all, Sergeant,” Dr. DeBeers says. “This is all very serious. Except for the part where you thought you’d get away with it.”

“I’m not getting away with anything!” Blaze shouts. “You took me captive!”

Dr. DeBeers frowns and stands up, looking Blaze over. She studies him for a minute.

“Hmmm,” she says. “Your vitals tell me you actually believe what you are saying. So you are telling me you know nothing about the GenWrecks and their Caldicott City sympathizers at all?”

“Nothing,” Blaze says. “I’ve never met a GenWreck or anyone part of any resistance.”

“Well, that’s not true,” Dr. DeBeers laughs. “We’ve just established you have been sleeping with one of the resistance’s main agents in Caldicott City. You just maybe weren’t aware of it.”

Blaze shakes his head over and over. “No, no, not possible,” Blaze says. “I’ve known Jersey most of my life. I love...”

“You love her, Sergeant?” Dr. DeBeers asks. “Is that what you were about to say? That you love her? Strange way to show it since you could have killed her with your GenSOF bacteria at any time. Lucky for her, the resistance’s experimental bacteria you passed on
looks to have cultured inside her as well, keeping her safe from the deadlier strains inside you. What a considerate lover you are, Sergeant.” She grins at him, like a predator playing with its prey. “Or maybe it wasn’t luck for Ms. Cale. Possibly, it was part of the plan all along. To see if she could survive the new bacteria and have it pass on to her.”

Everything the doctor
says whirls about in Blaze’s mind like a cyclone filled with sharp objects. Each time he tries to reach out and grab a thought, he pulls back, stinging from the pain of thoughts that just don’t make sense.

“I see I have confused you once again,” Dr. DeBeers says. “It’s to be expected. While GenSOF operators are smart, you are chosen for your DNA, not your scientific reasoning ability.”

She reaches down and presses on his wrist.

“AiSP? Please sedate Sergeant Crouch for the remainder of the journey. I need to report to Control and as much as Sergeant Crouch would like to learn more about his predicament, there are certain subjects he is not to know.”

“Hey! Wait…you…” Blaze protests then his head slumps to his chest.

“Thank you, AiSP,” Dr. DeBeers says. “ETA?”

“ETA is 0400, doctor,” the AiSP responds. “Would you like me to hail Control for you?”

“Yes,” Dr. DeBeers says. “And make me a cup of stim
brew too. I’m exhausted.”

“Your vital signs are weakening, doctor,” the AiSP says. A blue light descends from the ceiling and wraps around Dr. DeBeers. “I have detected foreign bacteria in your system.”

“Possible,” Dr. DeBeers says. “Have Control institute lockdown for when I arrive.”

“Doctor?” the AiSP asks. “A full facility lockdown? It would be wiser for you to be quarantined.”

“I caught the little shit and I’ll be the one to study him!” Dr. DeBeers shouts, her face flushed, her chest tight. “Inform Management of my orders! Now!”

“Yes, doctor,” the AiSP responds.

32

“You undo my work and I’ll be pissed,” Jersey says, watching as Paulo and Marco angle the Slides up against the transport. “It took me forever to get those cables back in place.”

“Relax,” Red says. “Are you sure the transport will be operational once it’s upright?”

“Sure? No. But there’s a good chance,” Jersey replies. “All I have to do is get Worm up and going and he can do the heavy lifting with the diagnostics and systems repair.”

“And what makes you think Worm is still in there?” Red asks. “Being severed from the sat link can really mess with an AiSP.”

“Worm knows the protocol,” Jersey says, smiling. “I’m sure he embedded into the transport as soon as possible. It’s Tranny Eighteen which means the servers are doubled and insulated against even a static blast. Hell, Worm could probably live through a nuclear EMP. Good thing Milly was on the ball and assigned Zebra squad Eighteen.”

“And a good thing she was able to give me a heads up Blaze was being sent to Control,” Red says.

“Pop? Dogs are getting nervous,” Jude says, walking up to the two. “Want me to take one and scout? Could be Cooties coming back.”

“So you aren’t Cooties?” Milo asks, propped up on his elbows a few feet away, watching the Slides move slowly under the transport.

“Nope,” Red says. “Cooties are a whole other thing.” He hooks a thumb over his shoulder at the pile of human corpses and the pile of dog corpses. “Sicklands messes their shit up. GenWrecks can live out here without the syphilitic insanity and intestinal lesions only because of our loads.”

“How’d they get the dogs?” Milo asks. “I haven’t seen Cooties with bug hounds before. Seems kinda useless since bug hounds are designed to sniff out bacterial infection in people and then put them down.”

“You are asking the right questions,” Red says. “But I don’t have any of the answers. Those dogs started showing up a while back. They aren’t with the Cooties. If anything, the Cooties follow them. There’s a lot of weird shit out here in the Sicklands. Weirder than even I could imagine.”

“Pop?” Jude presses.

“Stay close, son,” Red says. “Stay by the dogs and keep watch. They’ll let us know when we need to really pay attention.”

Jude nods and hurries back to the perimeter of bug hounds, becoming a shadow in the night like the dogs.

“Good kid,” Milo says. “Must be tough having him out here.”

“Not at all,” Red smiles. “Best thing that happened to me. I’m not as young as I’d like to be, but a GenSOF operator having kids? Never thought it possible when I was living in the tower.”

“Why’d you leave?” Milo asks.

“He didn’t,” Jersey says. “None of them did.”

“Huh?” Milo asks. “GenWrecks are the ones that can’t hack life in the Clean Nations, no offense. Or ones that refuse to be retired and taken care of. We all know that.”

“Propaganda is an amazing thing,” Red sighs. “GenWrecks aren’t volunteers. We aren’t operators that flee the cities or retirees refusing to become ash in the incinerators. Brother, this isn’t by choice, this is
forced exile.”

“Man, you are blowing my mind,” Milo says. “Or that could be the painkillers pumping through me. Props to you, Jersey, for making that happen.”

“I know my meds,” Jersey smiles.

“There is a lot we don’t know,” Red says. “More than I’m comfortable with. I’ll let Worm explain
more since he’s the real mastermind behind it all.”

Red laughs at the look on Milo’s face, but before he can say anything, Ton starts to stir
next to Milo.

“Hey, pal,” Red says, walking over and kneeling down. “Long time no see, brother.”

Ton blinks a couple of times, rubs his eyes, blinks some more then looks about at the faces around him.

“You make sense,” Ton says, pointing at Milo. Then he points at Red. “You don’t.”

“Living the dream, Ton,” Red says, spreading his arms. “Fresh air, plenty of room, staying one step ahead of the Cooties that want to kill me and do whatever it is Cooties like to do. Which you really don’t want to know about, believe you me. Oh, and there really isn’t any fresh air.”

“You’re dead,” Ton says.
“I watched you die.”

“
No, you didn’t,” Red says.

“Then you did go
full GenWreck,” Ton says, closing his eyes for a second. “I knew it.”

“Not quite,” Red says, shaking his head.

“There’s a backstory,” Milo says. “Worm will explain once Jersey gets him operational.”

“Hey,” Jersey says, waving. “I’m Jersey. I’ve heard a lot about you from Blaze.”

“That information didn’t help,” Ton says, tr
ying to get up and failing. “Ow. What hit me?”

“What didn’t?” Red says. “Just stay put. We’re getting the transport up and then we’ll move everyone inside.”

“Even the dogs? That’s a lot of fur,” Milo says.

“Marco and Collette will ride the Slides,” Red says. “Their bug hounds can ride bitch.”

“Bug hounds on Slides?” Milo laughs. “Now I know you’re crazy.”

Tequila growls low.

“No offense, boy,” Milo says. Tequila huffs.

“They’re old pros,” Red says. “A bug hound in the Sicklands learns to adapt.”

“I can’t believe Control let you keep your dogs,” Milo says.

“They didn’t,” Red replies. “These were gifts.”

“From whom?” Ton asks.

A loud clang and crash gets their attention and they watch the transport wobble back and forth after being shoved right side up.

“You’ll see,” Red says. “Jersey?”

“On it,” Jersey says. “It’ll take me a couple minutes. I have to run diagnostics before I start him up or I could fry his entire Ai.”

“Do what you need to,” Red says. “Just don’t take all night.”

“Don’t push me,” Jersey frowns. “I know the stakes better than anyone.”

She hurries into the transport, leaving the others to wait it out. In less than five minutes, a hum can be heard and the transport powers up, lifting slightly into the air as the hover skids activate.

“I need you guys to do manual checks on the wheels,” Jersey says. “I’ll keep the skids powered while you make sure the axles aren’t warped.”

Red, Paulo, Marco, and Collette each take a wheel, double-checking the couplings and axel interfaces.

“All good!” Red calls out.

The hover skids are powered down and the transport whumps onto the dirt, its wheels settling under the weight of the vehicle.

“I can still drive,” Milo says. “Just get me in my seat.”

“You aren’t doing shit, operator,” Ton orders. He looks over at Red.

“Nick’s my best driver,” Red says. “He clocked Fallout Canyon in less than ten.”

“Seriously?” Milo asks. “Fuck, then he’s got the job for sure. Fallout Canyon in less than ten?”

“I could have done it under nine, but we hit a patch of Cooties,” Nick says, walking up to them all. He whistles and smacks his leg and the bug hounds leave the perimeter and fall in line behind him. “We set to go?”

“Jersey?” Red asks.

“Hold on!” she shouts from inside the transport.

“Holding,” Red smiles. “She doesn’t like to be pushed.”

“I heard that, old man!” Jersey says.

It seems like forever, then Zebra squad all cringe as the com comes back to life and Worm’s voice explodes in their ears.

“Are you reading me?” Worm asks.

“Turn it down, Worm,” Ton says. “I’m wrecked enough.”

“You don’t know wrecked,” Red grins.

“I see you have made contact with Captain Blakely,” Worm says, his voice echoing out of the transport so all can hear.

“It’s just Red, Worm,” Red corrects. “I haven’t been a captain for a long time.”

“Your service within the GenSOF squads is exemplar,” Worm says. “You still deserve to be called a captain, sir.”

“Thanks, Worm,” Red says. “But how about you make sure the transport is ready to roll out?
We have an operator to rescue.”

There’s a split-second pause then, “I see by the time lapse that I have missed quite a few events. Ms. Cale has been released from her stasis cylinder. Hello, Ms. Cale. And thank you for bringing me back online.”

“Hey, Worm,” Jersey says. “And you are welcome.”

“Sergeant Kailua is injured, but stable,” Worm continues. “Lieutenant Lane is suffering from a small concussion, but it is not life threatening. I am worried about Sergeant
Menendez, as that broken leg has developed a clot. In fifteen minutes time he could die from a brain aneurism.”

They all look over at the unconscious operator.

“Can you fix the clot?” Ton asks.

“I can isolate it and keep it from moving, Lieutenant,” Worm replies. “But the transport’s medical system is not capable of removing the clot at this time.” Worm pauses. “I do not detect Canine Unit Belly or Sergeant Crouch.”

Gorge gives a sharp bark.

“Belly didn’t make it,” Paulo says. “And Blaze has been captured by the Clean Guard and is being taken back to Control.”

“This is most unfortunate,” Worm says. “This will put the time table back by a considerable amount, not to mention the almost certain demise of Sergeant Crouch.”

“There’s nothing certain about that!” Jersey snaps. “We’ll get there! Connect to the sat and find out where they are!”

“I cannot connect to the satellite,” Worm says. “Not without risk of detection and possible sequester. In fact, I am going to have to ask that all PSCs be removed immediately.”

“Wait, what?” Ton asks. “You want to take out our personal sat chips? That’ll kill our coms as well as our StatShields.”

“It will also remove you from Control surveillance, Lieutenant,” Worm says. “You are now officially part of the resistance and considered a traitor to the Clean Nation cities. I am sorry, but if I leave your PSCs in place you can be monitored and potentially turned against us.”

“What about me?” Jersey asks. “I drop my StatShield and I’m exposed to every bug out here.”

“You will be fine,” Worm says. “Your exuberant copulation with Sergeant Crouch has passed on the probiotic from him to you. I have monitored your system for months. The last test confirmed my findings. Technically, you are able to handle more Strain loads than any of the operators present, with the exception of Coffin squad.”

“Exuberant copulation?” Paulo asks as he and Nick help carry a stirring Hoagie into the transport. They get him settled and go back for Milo.

“Shut it, prick,” Jersey says. “This is all bullshit. How will we get inside Control? This wasn’t supposed to get this far.”

“
Apparently, Dr. DeBeers’s paranoia is clearer than we thought,” Red says. “Somehow, she got to you before we could.”

“No, I don’t think it was Control,” Ton says. “The Cooties stopped us.”

“Cooties?” Marco laughs. “Have you ever really talked to a Cootie? Their brains are soup. They can’t coordinate an attack on a transport.”

“Unless it’s related to something else,” Red says.

“What?” Jon asks, but Red just shakes his head.

Jersey looks at the other three stasis cylinders then at the one sitting just outside the hatch. “Hold on. I have an idea.”

“Leave them be,” Red says, seeing where she’s looking. He takes a seat next to Ton and straps in. Zeus pads over and lies on his feet, as does Snorts on Ton’s. “It’ll keep them from getting under foot.”

“Shut up,” Jersey says. “I’m thinking.” She walks out of the transport and eyes the Clean Guard bodies strewn about. “Worm? Can you
piggyback PSCs? Is there a way to do that?”

“Piggyback, Ms. Cole? I am unsure of the term,” Worm replies.

“What are you thinking?” Red asks.

“With the head start DeBeers has there’s no way we’
ll catch up before they get to Control,” Jersey says.

“You’ve never seen me drive,” Nick says.

“Ms. Cole is correct,” Worm responds. “Even pushed to full power, the Clean Guard transport has an insurmountable lead. It is why I stated previously that-”

“Worm, not now, we all know you
are super smart,” Jersey says. “But are you smart enough to trick the sat scans and Control into thinking the PSCs on us are those Clean Guard troopers’ PSCs? That’s what I need to know.”

“It could be possible,” Worm replies. “They would need to be fused
together, which would involve considerable pain and discomfort.”

“Already there,” Ton says.

“Yeah, tell me about it,” Milo replies.

Jersey looks at the members of the two squads, then at the stasis cylinders.

“The crap part is I’ll have to go back in there,” she states.

Red and Ton look at each other and smile.

“You make us look like Clean Guard, right?” Ton asks.

“And we deliver the goods,” Red says. “You won’t have to piggyback Coffin squad since we don’t have PSCs any longer.”