Immortality (47 page)

“Looks like the cavalry’s landed,” said Kathy.

Many people had died while others had survived. The newly arrived soldiers ignored the bodies on the ground and the survivors who had to be overwhelmed by what surrounded them. The military’s priority appeared to be something other than rescue. Scientific equipment was being set up. Some of the soldiers were using laser-surveying equipment to map the area, while others deployed remote controlled robots similar to those used by bomb squads. One of the soldiers pointed a rifle out over the water. A large torpedo shaped projectile was fixed to the end of the barrel. The rifle bucked hard, noticeably shoving back on the man’s torso. A moment later, Mark heard an echoing report. Trailing a wire, the projectile arched high in the air and hundreds of yards out across the bacterial plume before splashing down. The wire filament drifted to rest behind the projectile, sinking into the infected water.

Mark turned to see if Kathy was watching. She was working on her field notes using a PC tablet. He looked back toward the shore and saw a Humvee ambling toward them.

“I think we’re about to have visitors,” said Mark.

Kathy came over and stood next to him. The PC tablet was still in her hand. As the Humvee neared, Mark was able to make out three soldiers inside, wearing camouflaged NBC suits. The Humvee stopped ten feet away. A very large man got out the passenger side, followed by someone much smaller, possibly a female. After a few hand signals and mistakes, they were all on the same communications channel.

“I’m General McKafferty,” said the man. “And I believe you’re Dr. Kathy Morrison and Dr. Mark Freedman, correct?”

“Have we met before?” said Mark.

“No, we haven’t had the pleasure; but I’ve been following your recent work.”

Mark noticed Kathy staring at an insignia that was stenciled on the General’s NBC suit, a cobra coiled around a sword. He felt her nudging his elbow. She was trying to tell him something. He glanced at the insignia again and then remembered Lieutenant Kateland had the same thing on her uniform.

“I’d like to have a little chat,” said McKafferty.

“You’re part of BARDCOM,” said Kathy. “Funny, how I keep running into you folks.”

“We’re a large team,” said McKafferty. “And you’ve just run into the commanding officer.”

“Honored,” said Kathy.

“Dr. Freedman, I’d like to ask you a question or two,” said McKafferty.

“Depends on the questions,” said Mark.

“Fair enough,” said McKafferty. “We’re all working toward the same goal.”

“Are we?” said Kathy. “Why aren’t you helping survivors down there?”

“Doctors, I’m a soldier who’s sworn an oath to protect his country.” said McKafferty. There was an understandable edge to his voice. Mark was surprised at how Kathy had baited him. “I take my oath very seriously and would give my life for my country and its people. There aren’t many who can say that and mean it. Help is on the way for those folks. I’m here to learn more about what we’re up against.”

Mark believed what the man was saying.

“Ask your questions,” said Mark.

“Do you have any ideas that explain the movement of that bug infested plume?” asked McKafferty.

“Haven’t given it much thought. Water currents probably?”

“Come on, Doctor. I know you’re far too intelligent to have missed that the plume is moving on its own,” said McKafferty. “Real-time marine and air charts show the water is moving to the southeast, away from this corridor. That pile of bacteria is moving against prevailing winds and currents.”

“Impossible. If you’re thinking they’re swimming, you can forget it,” said Mark. “Bacteria are too small to move that fast. In still water, a very determined Chromatium might be able to cover a mile in about a year.”

“Well, these must be some very determined critters. We’ve been tracking the movement of that plume and it’s going against the current at a rate of approximately a mile every few hours.”

“There’s something wrong with your data. Maybe sub-surface currents are pushing them?”

“I don’t think so. We keep a very close eye on this particular body of water. There are no northerly crosscurrents. Take my word for it.”

“What you’re saying defies the laws of physics,” said Mark. “A flagella microns long can’t create enough propulsion to swim even a foot an hour.”

“I’ve always noticed that when scientists start using absolutes or Latin words, they’re either trying to convince themselves or hiding behind obfuscation,” said McKafferty. “Which one is true for you Dr. Freedman? I think you’re trying to convince yourself. Let’s look at it from another angle. How many bacteria would you say are out there, trillions? How much propulsion could a trillion smart bugs produce?”

“Not enough, “ said Mark. “Impossible.”

“Sometimes, you have to open your mind and accept the impossible,” said McKafferty. “Let me introduce you to another impossibility.”

McKafferty took what looked like a pocket computer from one of his men. He turned the device on and passed it to Mark. The front of the device had a cell phone sized keypad and a color LCD display with a horizontal graph calibrated in units of radio frequency. A red line with small ripples moved across the bottom of the graph.

“It’s an RF Spectrum analyzer that’s been retooled a bit,” said McKafferty. “Are you familiar with these kinds of instruments?”

“A bit,” said Mark.

When either of them talked over the radio link, a blip appeared on the red line in the 900 megahertz range, which Mark knew was the radio frequency of the links.

“It measures RF radio waves and shows you their frequency and strength. Keep an eye on that graph and follow me,” said McKafferty.

He started down the embankment toward the shoreline. Mark did not want to go down there again. He looked at Kathy. She wasn’t budging, which was fine with him.

All right,
he thought.
I’ll play your game.
He followed the General down the embankment. An armed soldier accompanied them. The General stopped at the edge of the lake. Mark’s mouth was dry. He was sweating heavily. His face was actually wet.

“Go on and move the box close to that goo,” said McKafferty. “And keep an eye on that graph.”

“What am I looking for?” asked Mark.

“You’ll see.”

As Mark got closer to the mat, the graph started to change. A broad shallow bump grew in the graph in the single digit hertz range and smaller bumps in the 100 to 1000 megahertz range.

“What is this?” said Mark.

“That’s the million dollar question,” said McKafferty. “The NSA first picked up on it a little while ago. We have no idea what data the signal is carrying – if anything, but we do know this concentrated bacteria is transmitting what’s called white noise.”

“How could everyone have missed this?”

“The geeks tell me this radio signal, if you can call it that, is what’s normally considered natural background noise. Every piece of radio equipment we use is designed specifically to filter out this noise.”

“They’re very smart,” said Mark.

“Who’s smart?” asked McKafferty. “The nano-critters?”

“No. Whoever built this nightmare.”

“Yeah, they’re smart. But they’ve made mistakes… Everyone does. We haven’t found ’em yet, but we will; and when we do, we’ll use those mistakes against them with extreme fucking prejudice.”

Mark and the General climbed up the embankment. As Mark got to the top, he had the distinct sense that Kathy wanted to embrace him. There was an emotion showing in her eyes that was hard for him to read. The feeling, whether real or not, lifted his spirits. He handed the Spectrum analyzer to the General.

“I’m going to tell both of you something that’s classified,” said McKafferty. “I’m doing this because I know it’ll help the CDC. Most of it’s a poorly kept secret anyway. Buried in the bed of this lake is a very large antenna used to transmit ULF radio signals. The transmission power is very high: we are talking global reach. It’s in constant use. This bacterial plume has been congregating around the antenna. When part of the plume passes over the antenna, it breaks up like smoke in the wind, then reforms after it drifts away, and then turns right back toward the antenna.”

Mark remembered the video display on the jet, the hypnotic motion of the cloud dispersing at the same location in the water and then reorganizing. The General was offering an explanation for what he’d seen, but all the pieces didn’t fit.

“You’re telling me that infected COBIC are attracted and repelled by low frequency radio waves,” said Mark. “Okay, after what you’ve shown me, I’ll buy that’s possible; but it still doesn’t change basic physiology. Microscopic animals simply cannot move that fast.”

“Back to that again, are we? Listen, I’m just giving you a set of facts: that plume is acting very funny at a specific spot in that lake. It’s one hell of a coincidence that a ULF transmitter is pumping this same spot full of radio signal. That’s why I’m here. We’re setting up equipment to measure any reaction of the plume during ULF test transmissions we’ve got scheduled.”

“When the kill zone hit, what was the Navy transmitting?” asked Mark.

“That information is classified; but if I thought those specifics were relevant, I’d tell you.”

The general checked his watch.

“Gotta go. Stop by our camp if you’re interested in a tour.”

The general turned and walked away. Mark thought about how odd the entire exchange felt. Suddenly, it seemed like everything had been rehearsed and that a pile of disinformation had just been dumped on him. He was starting to wonder if all the information they’d gotten from the military from day one had been intentional misdirection. He thought about the video of a living brainstem being murdered as seeds burrowed through vital nerves. Was that a fabrication, too?

“General,” yelled Mark. “I forgot to ask if you like high-tech slasher movies.”

McKafferty turned in his tracks. He marched back and stopped within inches of Mark’s faceplate. His eyes stared into Mark’s eyes; the General’s were soulless and featureless black orbs. Mark recognized that deep within them was the heart of a killer. The General didn’t say a word for almost a full minute as an ugly smile slowly grew on his lips.

“Do you mean videos that show seeds slashing nerves inside a human brain?” asked McKafferty.

“Yes,” said Mark.

“Never seen it.”

The Humvee pulled out. Mark felt like a professional mugger had just worked him over. He wished he could have had that spectrum analyzer checked to make sure it wasn’t a hoax. The General had shown up after a kill zone, dumped a very compelling piece of information or two on the table, and then faded into the background. The act was all too slick. Mark knew when he was being manipulated; but this was so obvious, so blatant. Didn’t the government have more finesse than that? Was everything the general said all lies within lies or was there some truth to it? He hated dealing with secrets, but that seemed to be the only currency in this dying world that still had any value.

“Enigmatic man,” said Mark.

“I don’t trust him,” said Kathy.

“Neither do I, but what if he’s telling the truth? I have to check out what he said. On the flight back, I’m going to see if Kateland will give us a copy of the satellite data. That will show the movement of the plume. I can get wind and water conditions from the coast guard. Before McKafferty’s ULF radio wave story, I thought the plume’s movements were due to water currents. But if the plume was scattered by radio waves, and it’s scattering against wind and water currents then that reaction proves the plume is moving under its own control and at a speed that’s just not possible.”

“It’s hard to accept anything when it comes from someone who looks like that,” said Kathy.

“What do you mean?”

“McKafferty, he looks like a criminal… ugly…sly…”

“I think I need to go over and take him up on that offer of a tour of their experiments,” said Mark. “Let’s see if they’re really doing what the ugly, sly general said.”

“Count me in,” said Kathy.

McKafferty’s crew had set up camp a mile down the shoreline. Mark’s and Kathy’s four-wheel drive Suburban didn’t have as much ground clearance as a Humvee. Their driver had to park about two hundred yards away. Some of McKafferty’s men were guarding the perimeter. Neither their bodyguard nor their driver were permitted to enter. Mark told them thirty minutes at the most and they’d be back. He and Kathy went on by themselves down a footpath that led toward the helicopters. Not far from the footpath, a pair of bodies in protective suits lay motionless on the ground. The sight made Mark’s stomach squirm. He wondered how long the bodies would remain before someone claimed them.

“Dead!”

The voice came from somewhere nearby. Mark spun around to see a man standing behind them. He was dressed in the bottom half of a civilian NBC suit, no mask and hood. He was chewing on something. Brown juice was running down his chin. Mark edged closer, putting himself between the man and Kathy.

“Dead,” said the man.

He tipped his head almost like a bird while his eyes remained glued on Mark’s face.

“Dead… Dead… DDDDeeeeeaaaaad!” he screeched.

Mark inched Kathy and himself backward. He had to glance down to keep from tripping. The man sprang and knocked him into the dirt. Mark didn’t know what had happened. The lunatic was on top of him. His hands were instinctively battling for control. Mark wasn’t wrestling with a man, it was an animal. The thing’s jaw began snapping in vain attempts at a piece of flesh. Mark had it by the hair and was pulling the head back. He was looking for a weapon. Spying a fist-sized rock, he let go of the hair with one hand and stretched for the rock. The lunatic twisted out of his grip and sank a mouth full of teeth into his shoulder. Pain lit up through Mark’s body.

Kathy was screaming for help over the radio. Mark tried to get the attacker off him. The maniac was thrashing its head from side to side, trying to penetrate the NBC suit, trying to rip off a chunk of flesh with its teeth. The NBC material was heavy enough to prevent punctures, but the clamping pressure went deep into his shoulder. Mark pushed backward with his legs, shoving both himself and his attacker across the dirt. The rock was now within reach. He grabbed the stone and swung it into the side of the maniac’s head. No effect! He swung again. The attacker released its teeth, but the crazy bastard was praying mantis quick and bit into the back of Mark’s hand before he could react. The rock fell from his grip. From nowhere blood and pieces of meat spattered across Mark’s visor. An instant later, came the crack of a rifle. The attacker was no longer on him. Mark sat up. He saw a lifeless body sprawled on the ground. Half its face was gone. Mark looked at his hand. There was blood dripping off his fingers and palm. The pain was excruciating as each injury competed to hurt more than the others. Salty sweat was burning his forehead. He couldn’t see any rips in his glove. The blood wasn’t his. He wiped the mess from his visor, leaving a thin smear. Kathy made him lie back, then took his hand and examined it.