Death and The Divide (5 page)

He nodded to her but didn’t flash his normal friendly grin. “Miss Moralez, your guess is as good as mine. Sorry. We have to wait for the lockdown release code.”

Crap. That could be late tonight.

“Listen, Julio, my sister was at the Plaza today. She hasn’t gone home. I need to find out what happened to her, plus her son is at my place.” Tears welled in her eyes at the idea of Lola as a victim in that nightmare.

“Oh, man, I’m sorry. Nobody can get through. The mono is not even running right now.” He frowned and ran his fingers through his short brown hair. “There’s a vid-site you can go to if you think someone you know was there. The link is shown on the news stations. You should try that.”

She took a deep breath, trying not to let her tears spill over, and nodded. “Thanks, I will.”

She ran to her office. “Turn on, computer.”

By the time she reached her desk, the clear panel lit. It was still on the station she’d viewed when she left. The vid-site information Julio mentioned now scrolled across the bottom. She pressed the link. It took a while to load, no doubt thanks to thousands of other people trying to go there.

An urge to scream expanded her chest as she waited. Finally, the site came up. It provided sparse information, little more than what had appeared on the news announcement. The list of those injured or killed was incomplete as they hadn’t yet rescued all victims from the rubble. She let out the breath she’d held when Lola’s name didn’t appear on the list.

She switched to the news. The bomber had died in the explosion, but enough of him remained that the capital security identified him and tracked his movements through DataSource. In less than an hour in Omaha and twenty-four hours in the rest of the country, anyone he’d come in contact with would be apprehended.

“What are these people thinking?” she muttered. “They must know our technology won’t allow them to escape.”

The next hour went excruciatingly slow. Her mother called twice. Still no sign of Lola at the apartment. Her mother’s voice sounded strained, and Annaria suspected she guessed Lola might be dead. She couldn’t bring herself to say the words out loud and ask her. She paced the lab until her feet ached. No word from Manson, either.

An alarm brought her back to her desk. A report said the city boundaries would stay closed for the night, but the lockdown within the city had lifted. People could return home. At this point, it appeared the man had acted alone.

“Finally,” she yelled and ran out the door.

People on the mono stayed unusually quiet, glued to their comm-units. Some openly cried, hunched over in their seats, having lost someone in the explosion. Ria kept a numb openness to hope. A plume of dark smoke marked the site of the disaster in the distance, and she turned away, unable to think her sister might be buried under rubble there.

She ran to her building and leaned against the lift wall as it rose. Her pulse throbbed in her neck veins and her head seemed to float above her body. Please let Lola be there when she opened the door. Please.

The doors of the lift slid apart, and she hurried to her apartment. The door was cracked open, so she pushed it. Sobs told her the worst. Two gray uniformed officials wearing black armbands stood on either side of her mother, murmuring condolences and patting her back.

“Mom?” She stopped inside the portal. Conner bolted from behind her mother and crashed into her, wrapping his arms around her thighs. The sound of his soft crying broke her heart.

“Lola’s dead, Ria. She’s dead. My baby is dead.” Her mother staggered toward her and landed in her arms with the boy sandwiched between them.

“We’re very sorry for your loss,” one of the grays said, her expression sorrowful. In her late sixties with dark gray hair and a soft, soothing demeanor, she had surely been chosen specifically to give people bad news. What a shitty job.

Gray two came forward. “We’ll have more news tomorrow once she has been extracted. We were able to remote scan her wrist-comm for her I.D. She’s under several feet of building material.”

“I understand,” Annaria managed between cold stiff lips.
God, don’t let me collapse.
“Thank you for letting us know.”

The grays bowed their heads and silently glided from the room like ghosts of doom.

“What’s going on? Where’s Lola?” Minlo’s lanky form pushed past the departing officials, his dark eyes wide.  His complexion paled more than usual, a true feat for someone who rarely left the glow of his computer screen. His usually slick black hair was ruffled and clumped.

She untangled the two bodies from around her and took Conner’s hand, then gave her mother a kiss on the cheek. “Mom, why don’t you go in my room and call Dad.”

“Ria?” Minlo came closer, eyes going wild. “Ria?”

“Min, she’s…dead. She was at the Plaza when the bomb went off.” It wrenched her gut to say it out loud.

Conner pulled from her grip and ran to the couch. He threw himself face down on it, beating a pillow with his small fists and wailing.

“Nooo!” The howl from Min came out high and piercing, like a smoke alarm. It didn’t even sound human. He doubled his thin frame over until his head met his bent knees and balled his hands into fists. “No. No. No.”

She circled one arm around her belly and placed her hand over her mouth to hold in the sobs.

Min’s arms flailed as he half rose. “Damn it. Not Lola. Those fucking bastards.”

She took a couple steps toward him. “I’m sorry.”

He straightened, fury in his gaze like hot embers. “I want to kill them. I’ll find a way. If it’s the last thing I do. I, I, I loved her.” He broke into another wailing sob.

“Min…” She made it close enough to touch his arm, but he shook off her hand and ran from the apartment, face crumpled and wet from tears.

Her shoulders slumped, and she made her way to the couch to sit beside her nephew. She wrapped an arm around his shoulders. “I’m so sorry, Conner. You shouldn’t have to deal with something like this at your age.”

He curled into her lap and rested his head on her chest. His crying eased, but moisture from his tears soaked through her tunic. He sniffed a few times and swiped a hand under his nose. “Why would they want to kill her?”

“It wasn’t her, sweetie. She just happened to be in the wrong place when a whacko decided to explode a bomb.” She stroked his hair. His skin felt hot.

“That woman said it might be someone from the South.”

“That’s what I heard, but it hasn’t been confirmed. It could have been some other group trying to make a point through violence.”

“I thought you said people from the South weren’t mean?”

She blew out a breath. How did she explain this to an eight year old? “It’s not everyone. There are crazy people everywhere. The person who did this was not in his right mind.”

“He was sick?”

“Sort of.”

“Then we have to forgive him?”

Finally her tears came in a flood, and she hugged Conner to her, rocking and crying. God, this kid was too good. Better than her. The best.

Like Minlo, she wanted to kill someone, too. But she had to make an effort for her nephew. “Yes, baby. We have to…forgive him.”

Damn it, no! If the South was truly responsible, she hoped they all became infected with whatever was causing the mass deaths and killed each other.

Chapter Five

Annaria’s wrist-comm vibrated on the table beside her bed. It sounded like a drill. She opened her eyes against the pressure of swollen eyelids, her eyes dry and painful. When her memory of the previous night returned, she let out a soft cry but found she had no more tears in her body. A pounding headache, however, remained.

She slipped her legs over the side of the bed and grabbed the offending device to silence it. Dr. Manson’s I.D. showed on the display. Shit. She didn’t feel like talking to him. In fact, she didn’t want to talk to anybody. Her day’s plan involved going to the religious cultural park, closing herself off in a Christianity pod, and bawling out her sadness to God. Later she would apply some alcoholic beverage to the gaping wound in her soul. But she answered anyway. Old habits were hard to kill.

“Yes?”

“Miss Moralez, you’re not at work.” He sounded less putout than she expected.

“That’s right. My sister died in the attack yesterday, and I’m not coming in.” She rose and padded to the bathroom to find a cold cloth to put on her face. Damn, her eyes stung.

“I heard about that on the news,” he said in a low voice. “I’m extremely sorry for your loss.”

“Yeah, Louis. It completely sucks.” She’d never talked to him in this candid manner before, but she didn’t care. She couldn’t care about anything right now. And she wouldn’t call him Dr. Manson anymore, no matter what his stupid pride suffered. Screw that fake bullshit.

He cleared his throat over the sound of people talking in the background. “I was able to talk to the Triumvirate yesterday.”

She sniffed and slapped the cloth over her eyes. So what!

“Annaria?”

“I’m here.”

“Look, I’m sorry about what happened, but I need you to pull yourself together and get over here.” Now he sounded more like his old self.

A headache exploded behind her right eye, and she moaned. Fury spread through her like a raging fire. The anger flowing in her was about her sister, but she would take it out on dear old Louis because he was so damned convenient. “Are you kidding? Didn’t you hear me? My sister died. I have to go claim her body today, whatever’s left of it. And then I need to plan a funeral and take care of my nephew. I’m not coming in.”

He coughed. “Annaria, listen to me with the part of your brain that isn’t turned to mush by this tragedy. The two governments had a vid-teleconference late into the night in an unprecedented collegial dialogue. Both sides are to form a research group and we’ll meet at The Divide in the morning to share information and come up with a plan. You are part of that team.”

“Wha…?”  She squeezed her eyelids shut and placed a hand on her forehead. What the hell was he talking about?

“We have to go to The Divide, and we have to leave this afternoon. The closest gate fortress is southeast of Topeka. We’ll spend the night there and make it to the gate by eight o’clock.”

Sorrow and despair fogged her brain. She sank to the edge of the mattress, still holding her head. Life felt sucked out of her. “Louis, please. I can’t do this. I can’t even think.”

“Yes, you can. I know you’re destroyed by your sister’s death, but you have to help prevent more deaths…thousands, maybe millions of deaths. This threat makes what happened yesterday in the Plaza look like a flea beside an elephant.”

“Louis, some people say it was a person from the South that did this. How do you think I can go there and face them? I want to kill them right now.”

“If you don’t help, this could affect what’s left of your family along with everyone in the world. You’re rational enough to compartmentalize the actions of a madman from that of a whole country. Do this for what’s left of your family.”

His words penetrated her sorrow, chipping away like a persistent ice pick. What he said was true. Reality fought a battle with emotion. “I don’t know why you need me if you’re there.”

“I consider you the second best parasitologist in the world, even without your PhD. The South has nothing close in that department. I can’t do the analysis by myself. We have minutes to solve this problem, not days. I, uh, I need you.”

She wadded the damp cloth and threw it into the bathroom. Letting her head fall back, she breathed deeply for a few seconds. He wouldn’t give up. She knew that.

“All right. I understand the importance. I’ll be there in an hour.”

“Very good. Pack for travel. I don’t know how long we’ll stay.”

“Don’t they have repo-vends there?” She’d rather recycle clothes for a new set than pack.

“I’m not sure what to expect, Ria.” His voice lowered, and she thought she detected a hint of fear. Crazy. The great Dr. Manson scared?

“Fine. I’ll pack.” She ended the connection and pressed her palms to her eyelids. How was she ever going to get through this? Thank God her mother took Conner and his cat to her apartment last night. Well, if she had to pack, she’d take her personal clothes instead of recyclable work clothes. She was more comfortable in her leggings and loose silk tunics, anyway.

After motioning the apartment settings to “Auto-care,” she headed to the university. Constantly battling the urge to cry, she couldn’t even look in the direction of the Plaza as they passed.  At the lab, Dr. Manson and three others packed computers and called back and forth to each other about what to take.

“Ah, Miss Moralez, you made it.” The big man lumbered to her and awkwardly patted her on the shoulder. She’d never seen him so uncomfortable. “Thank you for coming.”

“I didn’t get the message that I had a choice,” she said. “And call me Ria, okay? Can we be done with that Hawkings business?”

“Very well.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “Pack any equipment you need and let’s go. The transport is waiting outside.”

She made a quick transfer of some files to her tech pad and loaded a sample bag with containment packs in case they received any tissue samples. A portable scanner fit in her backpack with her biohazard suit. She didn’t have much else to take.

They had to drive to the border since a strict no-fly zone in that area prohibited a hover-copter. A T-10 would transport them. The luxury model. It pulled in front of the Science Hall, completely silent on its electric power. The perfection of its sleek silver sides and dark curved windows oozed power and money. Wow, seemed the government wanted to make a good impression. But on whom?

A young woman left the passenger side of the car and approached them. She wore her pearly white hair in a short bob with bangs that obscured her eyebrows. Her gray suit seemed a tad too tight for comfort, but she did have a nice figure. Ria placed a hand on her less than flat stomach, but appeased herself by noting the woman could be no more than twenty-five. She probably had no problem remembering her mandatory fitness sessions, while Ria got reprimand notices three times a week.

“Hello, I’m Madeline Jinee. I’ve been designated as your liaison with the government during this crisis.” She smiled and extended her hand. “Your work is top priority, and I’ve been instructed to make sure you have everything you need. Here, let me beam my data into your wrist-comm.”

Ria held out her arm, and the woman held her data pen tip against the curved metal band on Ria’s wrist.

“There, done. You can call me anytime.” Madeline smiled broadly.

“Thank you,” Ria said, eyeing her uncertainly. “Did you pack any snacks for the trip? I haven’t had a chance to eat.”

“As a matter of fact, yes. There’s an insulated tote in the back with beverages and energy bars.”

“Great.” She hoped for something a little more delicious. “Thanks for the assistance.”

Inside, the large vehicle held the other members of the North’s team. Dr. Borman, of course, their leading expert on biology. Beside her in the back seat sat Dr. Patel.

The other man she knew from his picture in science journals and the news. Dr. Jean
Karakwannentha, a descendent of Mohawk Indians and the country’s leading epidemiologist. Everyone called him Dr. K, because no one could remember how to pronounce his name. He sat facing them on the opposite seat, his long black hair collected in a ponytail at his nape.

She crawled in and sat beside Dr. Borman who gave her a shaky smile of greeting and murmured condolences about her sister. Dr. Patel merely nodded, his fingers fidgeting as they rested on his knees.

“Hello, I’m Annaria Moralez.” She stretched a hand to Dr. K. “I know you from the World Summit report you gave last year. Brilliant.”

His chiseled features made his face appear rigid, but his dark eyes sparkled with underlying good humor. He took her hand and gave it a firm shake. “And I have heard of you from my friend, Louis. You are well on your way to a successful career, young lady.”

“Thank you.” Heat rose in her cheeks at this unexpected praise. She had no idea her mentor thought so highly of her. She should ask for a raise since he hadn’t given her one in two years.

The interior space shrunk a bit when Louis entered and settled his large body beside Dr. K. An assistant outside lowered the door and they moved forward.

Annaria had only ridden in a personal vehicle a few times, usually in relation to work or when in foreign countries as rented mobility. This was the nicest one she’d ever seen, and fast. Once they left the perimeter of the city, the driver settled on a navigation path and the car zoomed across the landscape. She leaned her head against the padded seat and closed her swollen eyelids. She remembered Madeline’s cooler, plucked out a cold water pack, and placed it on her forehead as she resumed her position. She pictured Lola as she’d last seen her, hopeful and headed for her interview. The vision brought fresh agony, so she turned to thoughts of the wall.

The idea of going to The Divide between the countries filled her with both anxiety and curiosity. What kind of reception would the scientists from the South give them? Maybe this distraction was good if it diverted her from rumination about Lola’s death, and poor Conner who would grow up without a mother or a father. Her chest tightened, and she took a deep breath to dispel a nagging apprehension that went beyond her sorrow for her sister’s tragedy. She had none-to-friendly feelings about the South at the moment. She hoped she’d be objective and not let her anger over her sister’s death color her interactions with their group. She had to focus on the greater good.

***

Linc donned a thin, clear containment suit and pulled the hood over his head. He entered the secure negative pressure room through an airlock that irradiated contaminants, and attached a portable breathing unit on his back. Inside, Dr. Carter, the medical examiner from Atlanta, performed an autopsy on one of the men from the shrimp boat. Several other scientists from different fields circled the stainless steel platform, peering at the body. Or what was left of it.

He swallowed. The whales hadn’t been in this bad of shape, but then they had little other than the baleen plates in their mouths and their large jaws to cause damage. Humans were more inventive. This person had strips of flesh missing down to white bone in several places. Half of his face appeared ripped off, taking his left eyeball with it.

The examiner continued his low monologue of findings as he probed and cut at tissue, placing samples in different containers his assistants labeled and scanned into the data system for later analysis. His gray hair thinned on the top, and small beads of perspiration formed on the bald spot despite the cool room. At one point, he paused. His hand holding the electro-scalpel trembled. After a moment, he handed the device to an assistant and shook his head.

“Dr. Carter?” One of the other scientists broke the silence.

“I wish I could say I’m not positive, but I am. The injuries on this body are consistent with those seen when a large animal attacks a man and begins to eat him.”

Linc took a step closer. “Are you saying…”

“These people were not only attacking each other, they were eating each other as well,” the older man said. “There’s masticated human flesh in this man’s stomach.”

The people surrounding the table froze. The only sound came from a soft whoosh of air entering the room. Linc was glad the portable air system filtered out the worst of the smells inside his suit. That body looked putrid.

“Then the cause of death was blood loss?” Linc asked. That’s what had killed his whales. But none of them had whale flesh in them. They couldn’t have chewed meat since they had no teeth.

“That’s right,” Carter turned to him. “What about the animal massacres? What was found there?”

He relayed the results of his whale studies. “The gulls did have gull meat in them, but as scavengers, that’s not remarkable. Now it takes on more significance.”

One of the men on the opposite side of the table spoke. “So, something is causing groups of animals and men to turn into some sort of zombies?”

“Not zombies. Cannibals. They are still very much alive but have deviated from normal human behavior. Something has cross-wired their brains.” Carter returned to the body and directed his assistant to empty the remains from the stomach and the intestines into a separate container. “I’ll look at what else had been eaten prior to the human portions. I’d suggest we look at the whales and seagulls for similar intake. If we find a common food source that’s contaminated, that could be the culprit.