Plagued: Book 1 (8 page)

Chapter 9

Blood Sport

Sunday afternoon and the '
He did It Again Birthday Bash
' was in full swing with the Antonelli household's unmistakable mix of manliness and girly glamor. The entire neighborhood was invited, plus their Tactical squad, all of Rickey's teachers from several years of school and anyone else who wanted to drop by for some food. The Antonellis loved to have people over. Overflowing, over. The yard, house, and driveway were packed. You could see the barbecue smoke from blocks away. She and her aunt walked over because Eloise declared her intention to drink at least a pitcher of margaritas. Mrs. Antonelli, apparently, made killer cocktails.

A group of younger kids ran in circles in the street tossing a football and shouting. One of them was Rickey's younger brother, Bruno. Rickey liked to point out, with a name like that, the kid had no choice except to be straight.

All the guests brought something to eat as well as gifts. She and her aunt came in through the backyard and Sky waved at Rickey's dad. He looked like a happy man. Piles of meat to roast, a bottle of beer in one hand and tongs in the other.

Meat, unlike dairy and eggs, wasn't rationed. Eloise brought some of their dairy rations for Rickey's parents. They liked cheese, especially in the pasta dishes Mrs. Antonelli excelled at. Sky hated all dairy except butter – unless milk was being used in cake. Cake rendered milk instantly and extremely palatable. With a little help from the lactose tablets she always carried in her bag, of course.

People who were not lactose intolerant were probably very pleased to have dairy farming making a determined comeback. Dairy cattle died off at an unbelievable rate during the plague years. Faster at one point than people. They had to be milked daily or they died. Horribly and in pain.

Luckily small dairy farmers in England, France, Holland and quite a few in Canada and the American Midwest survived the epidemics and kept the bloodstock healthy and strong. Dairy herds were growing again. Beef cattle, on the other hand, could forage for themselves. Animal activists and others had thrown open slaughterhouse gates early on. Cutting wires on ranches to free them as well. Now America had hundreds of thousands of wild cattle again. Like frontier days. Beef was plentiful. Pork, too.

Chicken, though, was almost never on the menu. There were still laws against raising domestic chicken, geese, ducks and turkey. Eggs came from government controlled poultry farms with chickens raised in climate controlled environments. No one could forget the 'bird' element in bird flu. Maybe in another few years it would be legal. In rural America there were probably still lots of illegal poultry farms. The country was too big to strictly police, even for the robot drones tirelessly patrolling U.S. airspace.

Sky was wearing a button-down, blue and white pinstripe shirt with contrasting material on the inside of the cuffs and collar, over a pair of slim-cut navy pants and embellished navy blue ballet flats. She had a vintage navy Hollister cardigan that was her mom's tied around her waist. This was currently her favorite outfit.

The sound system on the patio pumped out Britney Spears on infinite loop. Karaoke was in full swing, complete with costumes to wear during partygoer's time at the mic. The family had pulled the big screen TV out of the living room and set it up in front of the stage Mr. Antonelli built as a Christmas present for Rickey one year.

It was great, chaotic, delicious fun. Sky didn't want to think about the blood vault. Whatever was going on, it was way beyond her, she'd decided. She wasn't a secret agent. She wasn't even a real soldier.

Sky brought her tablet PC from home so Mom could join in the baby shower festivities in the living room. Mrs. Antonelli said it wasn't necessary as they could use their WiFi and tablet. Her mother's position in the government, however, meant she always had to use an encrypted satellite line, so it was easier just to bring their own stuff. Leaving the tablet and the gift of baby clothes with Aunt Eloise, already in line for a margarita, Sky took Rickey's gift and headed toward the stage.

She kept having to shift the position of Rickey's birthday present so she could see around it. The gift was a life-sized pillow of Britney Spears in one of her sparkly outfits. Sky found it online and ordered the pillow immediately. He was going to go crazy when he realized he could now have a sleepover with his idol every night.

Heading towards the patio, she hooked up with Mary and Melissa and arm in arm – together with Britney – they went in search of the birthday boy.

Rickey was holding court around the karaoke machine, cheering on Sara Anne at the mic. His friends from the neighborhood and school gathered round, happily stuffing themselves with food from the tables or directly off the grill. To her surprise, Rickey took her aside almost next to the speaker. The music was pumping out so loudly she could hardly hear him.

“I need to talk to you about Friday.”

“You can talk but I can't hear you!” She had to shout over the music.

“The noise covers eavesdropping, in case someone is listening.”

She looked at him expectantly, shifting the pillow in her arms. He must be planning some secret surprise for his mom or a practical joke.

He cupped his hands around her ear. “Something's wrong at the base.”

That was not what she was expecting.

“I tracked the stealth bikes with the Catz, just like you said.”

“And?”

Rickey didn't answer. He was no longer looking at her but at the stage. Daphne, wearing a long blond wig from the costume box, was singing one of Britney's more suggestive songs. She seemed determined to match the video on the screen hip grind for hip grind while her bountiful breasts bounced in rhythm. An appreciative audience of boys were crowded around. Beyond the stage, Sergeant McNeil walked into the yard beside another man. Sara Anne, who saw them approach, made furious slicing motions across her throat to stop the show. Daphne, however, sang on, oblivious to everything but her performance with the video. Rickey had a side-by-side camera to insert yourself into the karaoke DVDs. 

Sara Anne yelled, “Attention!”

The regulars in the squad popped to attention and saluted. Daphne dropped the mic in surprise and the feedback howled. Everyone yelled and one of the other kids picked it up. Pulling off the wig, she jumped off the stage to join the group.

The sergeant waved them at ease. “I'm not in uniform Juniors and neither are you. We are all off duty, no saluting is necessary.”

Rickey was watching the sergeant, but as yet made no move to go closer.

“Come on,” Sky urged. “You have to greet him.”

He slowly rolled towards their Squad Leader. Rickey's movements in his chair were very nuanced, an extension of his body language. He could move joyfully, fearfully, shy, all of it. Sky knew him well enough to interpret a subtle reluctance to go closer. This was weird.

“There he is. Happy birthday, Antonelli.”

“Thank you, sir. I didn't know you were coming.”

“Your parents sent me an invitation.” The sergeant indicated the other man. “Juniors, this is Major Bromwell.”

The haircut and posture of the man gave him away as military even before the introduction. Sky already knew who he was, Kara's commanding officer and mentor.

They all stood up a little straighter.

“Sir, these are some of my Junior squad.” He looked around the group. “M
ost of them
. Where's Singh?”

“Here. Here, sir!” Raj dashed over carrying a plate precariously piled with ribs and grilled corn. He was tall and lanky, all arms and legs. He had thick, wavy hair so black it sometimes looked navy blue.  His long, thin face was set off by a biggish nose and eyes the color of chestnuts. Once he filled out, Eloise had told Sky, he'd not only grow into that nose but be a handsome young man. Sky and Raj had been playmates since they were five. It was hard to think of him becoming a man and not staying a boy forever.

He set the plate carefully on the ground and snapped to attention.

The major looked them over. “Which of you is Christensen?”

Sky shifted the pillow and raised her hand, surprised. Crap, maybe she was in trouble and that's what Rickey was trying to tell her. The major had come to drag her off for a court martial. “Me, sir.”

“How's your sister feeling? Close call.”

Relief flooded through her. “She's still in ICU, though not in danger.”

“Good. Good.”

“The baby's fine, too,” she babbled, relieved he was not here in any official capacity.

His posture stiffened and he looked her right in the eyes. “Baby? What baby?”

Sky felt her stomach slide down to somewhere around her ankles. Maybe she wasn't supposed to say anything about babies to Kara's commanding officer. Damn it, could she do
nothing
right?

“I said what baby, Ms. Christensen?”

Taking a deep breath, Sky decided not to dig herself in any deeper. “Begging your pardon, sir, that's not for me to say.”

His face darkened and Sky waited for a rebuke. He opened his mouth, then seemed to think better of it, speaking to Rickey instead. “How many days until you get your legs, soldier?”

“Four hundred twenty-five, s
ir.
”

That was how many days until graduation. Ironically it was the plague that was going to get Rickey up on his feet. At eighteen, Rickey would qualify for Mobility Gear. A set of lightweight metal and plastic legs that fastened with just a few clicks over his lower torso. An exoskeleton powered by batteries would allow Rickey to walk and run. He was much more useful to the American government on his feet.

Research on transfusion technology for third world countries – where there was no electricity and portable generators few and far between – had led to breakthroughs in ultra-light, long-run batteries some years before. They enabled an entire transfusion unit to be scaled down to the size of just two backpacks, perfect for access to rough country.

That was also precisely the technology needed to kick exoskeletons up to the next level. The new batteries could power a mobility suit without recharging for up to twenty-four hours.

Teens and children, unless they were an extreme case, generally waited until they finished most of their growth spurt before being fitted with the custom-designed suits.

“Why don't you take the major to your dad, Antonelli. Introduce him to a cold beer while you're at it.”

“Yes, sir.” Rickey maneuvered his chair and led the major to the group around the barbecue.

Sky stole a glance at her Squad Leader only to find him staring right back at her. She cringed. He'd given her the delayed dressing down in front of the squad Friday afternoon for her actions.

“Did I order you to investigate?” he'd yelled. “Did I
tell
you to enter buildings?”

“No, sir.”

“I didn't hear that.”

“No, sir!”

“That's right, Junior. You were told to provide backup for the Alpha and Bravo regulars and the Senior teams. That's all. You could have gotten your comrade killed. In fact, it's a wonder you are both alive.”

He was right. She regretted ever going through that stupid door. She stood at attention while he listed all the mistakes she'd made. Not really hearing him, everything that had happened in the blood storage room playing on an infinite loop since the day before.

Over and over again.

The executive falling dead, his cigarette still smoking. In the room behind, thousands of pints of blood and a warning from the man in armor to say nothing. He could have killed her just as easily as he did the man in the suit. He didn't, and that was why she was keeping silent just as her mom suggested. At sixteen, she knew she was in over her head. Way over.

Instead of embarking on part two of chewing her out, he asked, “Everything all right with you and Antonelli?”

The question surprised her. Why wouldn't everything be all right?

“Of course, he's my best friend.”

“He is, isn't he.” With that, he walked over to join the major.

Daphne switched the karaoke machine back on, resettled her wig and picked up from the last hip thrust without missing a beat. Sara Anne called out dibs on the wig and the next song.

Rickey rolled back and she looked at him wondering if he wanted to continue their conversation. He shook his head as if anticipating her. He had Chase in tow, limping with the help of a crutch, his left wrist in a plaster cast.

The twins, Raj, Sara Anne, and Sky crowded around their friend. Daphne just kept singing. Chase waved them back, insisting he was fine.

Switching to the chair's electric foot pedal, Rickey rolled up to Sky, both arms in front of him,  chanting. “Presents, presents, presents.”

Sky held the bulky gift up over her head. “No, it's not time for presents.”

“It's always time for presents!” he insisted.

Mary and Melissa joined in. “Presents, presents!”

Sara Anne started chanting as well.

Since his girlfriend Michelle had yet to arrive, Raj had eyes only for his plate of food.