Deadlocked 6 (22 page)

"But it's not up to me. In fact, nothing's up to me around here anymore."

"What? Why's that? Whose ass do I need to kick to get things back in control around here?"

She looked at the door and then at me as if making sure there was no danger of being overheard. "If you want to know the truth, there's a pretty big group of us that want to stop trying to fight with your kind."

"My kind?"

"You know, the survivors." She set her pen over her ear as she spoke. "We've already accomplished our initial goal. There's no point in another genocide. Frankly, the thought of it makes me sick."

"Me too, babe. For sure. I'm a man of peace and love, with heavy emphasis on the love." I hurried and continued talking before she could respond. I wanted to do everything I could to connect with her as I squirmed in my restraints. "We need to treat each other like human beings. All we're asking for is to be left alone."

She sighed and looked back down at her clipboard. "I know. Unfortunately, not everyone feels that way. We're being forced to help continue experiments on your people. Apparently there's someone traveling with you that was exposed to a specific form of the virus that one of our scientists had been working on when the apocalypse started."

"Who?" I asked.

"There're two possibilities. The military recovered notes from the scientist's lab that talked about a girl, around six years old at the time, who was injected with the serum. We found out that she was traveling with your group, but then someone lied to us and said that your group had disappeared. Turns out there's been a fight brewing between some of our people, and you got stuck in the middle of it. Until we find the person that might have the cure, you're not going anywhere."

I knew exactly what she was talking about, but didn't lay my cards on the table just yet. However, I dropped my lecherous advances in favor of a new plan. It had been a last ditch effort on my part to try and woo this woman into releasing me. I knew there wasn't much of a chance of that happening. Now that she'd revealed that she was weary of war, I wanted to appeal to that side of her. "And what's the other possibility?"

She grimaced and rolled her eyes. "It's a long story."

"I've got nothing but time." I jiggled my restraints for emphasis.

"I don't know all the details. All I know is that there was a boy who was given the serum as well. He'd been kidnapped from one of our facilities, and from what I've heard they think he was in Vineyard yesterday."

"And what happens if you find these people?" I asked.

"Then we might be able to cure the disease."

"You haven't done that already?" I asked. "I thought you guys were already immune to the virus. Wasn't that the whole point of starting the apocalypse? Isn't that why you murdered six billion people?" I'd been trying to keep my hatred a secret from her, but it was impossible to hide for long.

She noted my angry tone and her expression changed to one of authority. She reminded me of a teacher, ready to admonish her unruly class. "Look at that screen." She nodded in the opposite direction, to my left, where a flat screen television was attached to the wall. It displayed a picture of a forest and I casually shrugged before looking back at her.

"What about it?"

"We keep those screens running in all of our elite facilities," she said and walked around the end of my bed. "To remind us why we had to do what we did."

"And why was that?" I asked, finding it hard to mask my sarcasm.

"Because human civilization had crippled the world. Did you know that in the ten years before the apocalypse, eight of those years were the warmest in recorded history?"

"Nope." I didn't care.

"And there were species of fish dying out because the water all across the world was getting too hot?"

"Okay."

She continued, undeterred by my disinterest. "And despite what the media said, we were on the brink of a world war. The Middle East crisis was escalating and if someone didn't take action, hundreds of thousands of innocent people would've been killed in a nuclear war."

"Wow," I mocked her. "Sounds like killing a few billion people would solve everything. Good choice."

"Look, you can dismiss what we did all you want, and I understand that. It was never an easy decision, and we've been wrestling with it ever since. That's why we keep these damn televisions running all the time with pictures of the world healing itself, to remind us that we did the right thing. None of us felt good about what we had to do, but the fact of the matter is, if we hadn't done
something, the world would've changed dramatically. And I'm not talking about just installing more air conditioners; I'm talking about the end of all humanity. You probably remember all that talk, back before the apocalypse, about the polar ice caps melting. Right?"

"Yeah."

"Well, it was true. And not only were they melting, but we were within a decade of causing what's known as the underwater current to stop. Do you know what would happen if that stopped?"

I shook my head, tired of her reasoning. "I don't know. Surfing would've sucked."

She chuckled and nodded. "To say the least. If the underwater current had been allowed to stop, then the oceans would've stagnated. If that happened, all life on this planet would've ended. Think about that. I understand how deplorable you think we are, but you're wrong." She walked up to the bed and I saw empathy and sadness in her eyes. "We saved all life on this planet by making the hardest decision in history. We ensured the survival of the entire human race. You can hate us for it, but we saved your life."

We looked at one another for a moment, and I knew that she thought I understood her point. I feigned sympathy as I gazed up at her and said, with all the sarcasm I could manage, "You deserve a medal."

"Fuck you," she said as she gave up and walked away.

"Wait," I stopped her before she could leave. I shouldn't have offended her, and tried to reconcile. "I'm sorry, it's just a bit much to take in. I'm sure you can understand. How did you feel the first time they told you about the plan? When did you find out?"

She appeared plaintive, tired, and ready to walk out on me. She reminded me of Jill.

"You seem like a nice girl. I just want to understand how you got mixed up in all this."

The doctor was hesitant to speak with me, but I knew she would. I've always had a way with women. My wife says I exude empathy, but I just know how to pay attention to a person's eyes. I grew up with a drug addict mother, and recognizing her emotions became a survival technique. When she would come home, staggering and dazed, I could always recognize her soul in the way she looked at my brother and me. The sorrow in her eyes was the only thing that kept me from hating her.

"My mother was one of the scientists that designed the virus." It was as if she'd been waiting for years to admit that, and it pained her. "I was in medical school when it started."

"Did you know it was going to happen?"

She shook her head and then sighed as she glanced into the hallway behind her. Her breath was stilted, hampered by an attempt to stymie tears. "I had no idea."

"But you're okay with it now?"

I'd annoyed her, and she glared at me. "I told you, we didn't have a choice."

I picked up on how she referred to herself as one of the people that made the choice, even though she hadn't known about it. In the decades after the apocalypse, she'd managed to become complacent with the event that her mother had helped cause. I understood that better than most people could've. If it hadn't been for my brother, I'd have sunk into the same depression and drugs that my mother had.  Sometimes, when you're spiraling down, all you need is a person to grab your hand.

"I don't think you would've done it," I said and stared at her with a steeled expression of certainty.

"Done what?"

"I don't think you would've made the same choice your mother made. You're a better person than that."

"You don't even know me," she said and wiped her thumb across her cheek to catch a tear.

"It's not hard to tell when someone's a good person. What's your name?"

"Faith."

"It's good to meet you, Faith. I'm Levon, but all the pretty girls call me Hero."

She thought that was funny. Relief bolstered her laugh, as if she wanted every reason she could find not to cry. "You should've been a psychiatrist, or a motivational speaker, Hero."

"Maybe I will be," I said and my tone grew heavy. "I'm not even forty yet. I've got a lot of life left in me, depending on the choices certain people make in the next few minutes. What if I told you I could get you the cure you're looking for? Would that help?"

"Of course."

"Then get me out of here, and I'll help you save the world."

Faith was flustered and glanced down at her clipboard. "I don't know what you think I can do for you, but you're wrong."

"Do
n't worry, beautiful. I've got Faith." I winked and settled back into my pillow. Then I sat back up quickly and added, "Was that too cheesy? Did I lose you with that last part?"

She laughed and picked up her cup of coffee from the stainless steel table beside the door. "No, you nailed it, Hero." I heard her say again, "You nailed it," as she walked down the hall.

I felt pretty good about myself for a minute as I lay back on the bed. My head hurt, my stomach rumbled, and I was aware that countless drugs were pumping through my veins, but despite it all I was hopeful for the first time in a long time. I'd spent the past two decades living in fear, propelled by hate, and convinced that the only path to survival was through the destruction of those that stood in my way. The military, and the people responsible for the apocalypse, had become my nemesis. I'd felt unfulfilled knowing they were alive, and my life revolved around revenge.

For the first time since the beginning of the apocalypse, I was willing to let go of that. Meeting Faith, and recognizing that not everyone in this organization was evil, helped me understand what Laura had been p
ushing for since being elected captain of the High Rollers. Perhaps it was time to try and make peace.

I still wanted to murder everyone that had anything to do with releasing the virus that started the apocalypse, and no amount of soul searching or desire for peace would quell that. However, speaking with Faith had forced me to consider the future of our children.

Jill and I had been trying to have kids for years, but either she wasn't able to conceive or I was shooting blanks because nothing ever happened. I'd always known that if she got pregnant, I'd train our child to be a warrior that would help the High Rollers fight against the military. Now I was ashamed of myself for that. Just like Faith had been forced to be complicit with her mother's sins, I was expecting my hypothetical child to do the same. With that sort of mentality, when would the killing stop?

Faith represented a chance to overcome this endless killing. Perhaps it was the feel-good drugs they were using to keep me from passing out due to the gash on my head, or maybe I was suffering a concussion, but I'd never felt more hopeful. Faith had said that there were others in her group that wanted to end this war, and if I could convince them to help me then we might be able to create a world that would be safe for our children.

It was Pollyannaish, but I reveled in the glory of it. If Jill and I ever did conceive, I didn't want our child to grow up burdened with my war. Perhaps Laura had been right all along.

We needed to strive for peace. We owed that to our children.

In this auspicious moment, I heard two gunshots echo through the halls outside my room. The first one startled me, and the second stilled my heart. I don't believe in psychics, or telepathy, or any of that stuff, but there was no doubt in my mind that Faith was dead.

When Kim walked through my door, I already knew what happened.

Kim Laporte

I searched the two women for anything useful. I knew there wasn't much time since the gunshots had echoed through the facility, louder than any alarm could hope to be. There was no mistaking a gunshot in a closed space, and I'd fired twice.

The black woman wasn't carrying anything important, so I moved on to my other victim. She was middle aged, with grey hair that was tied back in a ponytail. The bullet had pierced her throat, and a pool of blood was still growing beneath her. I knelt down, the bottom hem of my plain hospital gown mopping the blood, and was about to search the woman's pockets when I felt something press into my stomach.

She was alive, and had a gun.

I'd been careless, and was furious with myself for making such a common mistake. I'd become accustomed to killing zombies over the years, and when they fall down they get right back up again if you didn't kill them. Zombies function with inhuman ferocity, and won't stop moving until their brains have been destroyed. The living, on the other hand, are much more cunning.

This bitch was dying, but she would get revenge first. The gun I'd stolen from the other woman was in the pocket of my gown, and I couldn't reach it quick enough to stop this doctor from killing me. She'd won and I scowled down at her.