The Immortality Virus (21 page)

“Nobody knows, doc,” Cohen said. “We just brought her to you. You can tell whoever you like.”

“Get out of here.” She shooed him away and slammed the door in his face. “Carol! Come over here and get this bone-setter off. I’ll be back in a minute.” With that, she withdrew into a private office and shut the door.

A woman, presumably Carol, stopped restocking shelves and went to a supply cabinet where she withdrew the key to the bone-setter.

“Sit,” Carol ordered.

Grace found a chair and sat.

The procedure took about thirty seconds. Carol inserted the key, twisted, and the bone-setter fell off. Grace flexed her arm with a measure of relief. It still felt sore, but the bone was healed.

Carol pressed her finger along Grace’s forearm. “This is fine. Don’t overexert it for a while.”

Graced wondered if she’d have a choice.

The doctor’s private office door banged open, and Carol turned to face her. “Done. Anything else?”

“No. Alex is on his way to take her off our hands. Get back to the rest of this lot.”

Grace eyed the door, wondering if she should attempt to flee. Without her bone-setter, she didn’t stick out as much. She could make a run for it and choose not to be handed over to anyone.

The patients in the room seemed to have the doc and her assistants preoccupied. Grace edged to the door, and just as one of the women shouted “Hey!,” she opened it and burst through.

She had come from the left, so she turned that way first. Carl approached from that direction, with two large farmers flanking him.

She whirled the other way and spotted Alex, also in the company of two large farmers.

They all saw each other at the same moment, and side arms flew into hands as if they had materialized there.

Grace flung herself against the opposite wall and watched in stunned disbelief as the disruptor fire began.

Alex’s farmers fired first, their weapons set to stun. Carl and one of his farmers went down before the other farmer returned fire–his set to kill.

A scream and one of Alex’s men fell to the ground. The other got off one more shot, and the last of Carl’s men crumpled to the ground.

“Let’s go!” Alex grabbed Grace by the sleeve and pulled her toward him.

“What the hell is going on?”

“Hell is about right,” Alex said. “No time to talk.”

Alex ran ahead of her, his man behind, effectively keeping her from running in her own direction. The small part of her that wanted to trust Alex didn’t mind the situation, but the larger part that didn’t trust anyone wanted to at least have the option.

Left, right, down a flight of stairs. The basement maze twisted forever before they reached a dead end of solid wall.

Alex pushed aside a nondescript picture hanging on the wall and punched a code into a panel there. The wall swung open, and they all went through, letting the wall snap close behind them like the jaws of a monster closing in.

The monster looked like a prison, complete with a single, dim fluorescent bulb barely illuminating musty, gray cinder block walls. Two chairs and a desk provided seating, while a queen-size mattress thrown onto the floor and topped with old blankets suggested Alex intended for someone to sleep there. Through a door to the left, she could see the sort of bathroom that was so old it would never be clean again.

The only thing that broke the illusion of the prison cell was a flight of winding stairs set in the wall directly opposite the hidden door.

“Go ahead,” Alex told the farmer. “Let me know when it’s clear.”

With a nod, the farmer headed towards the flight of stairs and disappeared a few seconds later.

“Is there any chance I’ll find out what’s going on?” Grace asked.

“Have a seat. I don’t know how long we’ll be.” Alex gestured to one of the chairs. When Grace sat, he took a steel chair across from her and reached behind the desk for something she hadn’t noticed immediately–her backpack.

“I managed to hide this from Carl,” Alex said. “It’s a good thing, I think.”

“Is it?”Grace studied the face of the man seated across from her. It was weary, lined in ways it had not been a few days before, as if he’d restarted the aging process.

“You’ve created quite a stir,” Alex said, “and somehow you’ve managed to do it without anyone knowing for sure what you’re after.” He removed the diary from the backpack and stared at it for a time. “I had no idea it was my grandfather.”

“You don’t believe it?”

Alex shook his head. “Oh, I believe it. The last time we all saw him he was just crazy enough... I hate to think he did. He was a good man, believe it or not. He just fell apart when his wife... It doesn’t matter.”

“A good man accused of killing his coworkers,” Grace reminded him.

Alex’s face went slightly pink. “I never thought he did that. It didn’t even make sense. Not as long as his wife was alive and he still had hope.”

Since Grace had come to the same conclusion, she simply nodded. “Well, if he’s a good man maybe he’ll be willing to help. He’s had four hundred years to think about what he’s done.”

“Lots of good people don’t want anti-aging reversed.”

Grace’s face flushed, but she had no answer.

“I’m on your side, though, just so we’re clear,” Alex said.

She studied his face, especially his eyes. Somewhere, someone had said they were the window to the soul. She didn’t believe it. People could lie with their eyes as easily as any other part of their body. Still, she liked Alex’s eyes. They made her want to believe him. “I guessed, or maybe I hoped. I need to trust someone, I think, or I’ll never get out of this mess.”

“Is it hard for you to trust?” Alex asked.

“Most of the time, too much trust will kill someone in my line of work. This time, though, I think I have no chance without trust, and precious little chance with it.”

“I’d normally say you were cynical, but this time you’re probably right. You have no idea what kind of politics are at play here.”

“Give me an idea.”

Alex took a deep breath. “Let’s start with the Kansas City Establishment. Half of them want you released so you can get Mr. Stanton for them, although I think they’ll try to kill you afterward. The other half just want you dead. Oh, and then there’s Mr. Stanton himself. He’s sent people to find you, but I’m not supposed to know they’re his men.”

“How do you know?”

Alex waved a hand dismissively. “Carl is the one who had you thrown on the farm in the first place. He put a call in to his father, my uncle, when you arrived and Uncle Ethan apparently thought the very fact you were looking for Grandpa made you a threat. He knows something, but he won’t say what. He doesn’t know everything, though, because he wanted you held until he could get here.”

“Is he here?”

“Oh yes. That’s when the problems on the farm began. Carl couldn’t find you, which made his father mad, so he started having farmers search for you. I had already secretly asked a few men I trust to find you for me, and when Uncle Ethan came to the farm, I stepped up my search. I’m afraid that’s why so many died today. It was not my intention.”

“Isn’t there some kind of chain of command here?” Grace asked.

“Yes, but Mr. Cooper came down ill and the line of succession is not clear. His oldest son is moving to take command now, but at least half the farmers here hate him and are hoping—even praying—Mr. Cooper named someone else in his will.”

“He hasn’t made it public?” Grace asked.

“Rich men don’t like to make the contents of their wills public,” Alex told her. “Their inheritors could get impatient.”

“Oh.”

“Anyway, Roy has decided that whatever Carl’s into sounds profitable and is backing him up, partly to share in the profit and partly to purposefully go against his father and find out who he can trust. Mr. Cooper is with me on this issue, but a lot of people are eager to please the new boss.”

“Will Mr. Cooper recover?” Grace asked.

Alex took a deep breath. “I hope so, but he’s an old old timer. He was pushing his luck to live this long, being effectively frozen at eighty years old for four hundred years. We have a nasty strain of flu going around this farm that’s got about a fifty percent mortality rate, and he’s caught it”

“Is that everything?” Grace asked.

Alex shrugged. “Rumors...nothing substantial. I’ve even heard the name William Edgers floating around, but that may just be because he’s a friend of Mr. Cooper’s.”

“William the Bloody?” Grace said without thinking. She thought back to recent news reports, trying to make sense of it. Why would he want to get involved in any of this? He was supposed to be busy subduing cities and reunifying the country.

“That’s what some of The Establishment are calling him,” Alex said. “It’s propaganda. I don’t know how much of what they’re saying about him is true, but I know Mr. Cooper and don’t believe he would have such an evil man as a friend.”

Grace didn’t have anything to say to that. She hoped she never needed to learn the truth.

“So,” Alex said after an awkward pause, “do you know if my grandfather is alive?”

“You don’t?” Grace asked.

“I told you I don’t know where he is.”

She believed him. What remained was whether or not to tell him what she knew.

“He must have lived for a while after he finished this diary,” Alex continued. “I mean, the shooting took place two days later and he hadn’t finished his work. I was kind of wondering when and how he did if he was on the run from the law.”

“I don’t know,” Grace admitted. She remembered asking herself the same question a few days ago and then putting it out of her mind. Perhaps she should have pursued that line of investigation a bit more instead of acting on Matt’s suggestion to track down Alex. At least then she wouldn’t be trapped on a farm right now.

“So, do you know if he’s alive?” Alex asked.

“I know he was two months ago,” Grace said finally, “but I won’t say how I know that.”

“Wow. I never imagined.” Alex’s eyes unfocused, and he stared off into space.

Grace took another long look at her surroundings, not because there was anything else in that small space to see, but because she needed some time to think and because she wanted to leave Alex to his private thoughts.

She had never been in such a dire predicament. When she’d taken the job, she knew there would be danger, especially if The Establishment caught wind of her mission, but she’d had no idea how many different groups would want a piece of her. Was there any way to navigate through this murky situation and return to her old life? Probably not. If she survived, she might have to go into hiding, change her identity, and never speak to her family again.

Suddenly, she longed for one of her mother’s annoying calls.

“What’s on your mind?” Alex asked through the deafening silence. His voice sounded distant, as if Grace had wandered far in her mind.

“I know I’m too old, but I was thinking about my mother.”

Alex shook his head. “I don’t think we ever get too old for that.”

“Do we get too old to die?” Grace asked. “You know what I’m hoping will happen if I find your grandfather. We’ll all die of extreme old age. I know it’s the right thing and yet–”

“You’re afraid. I think that’s pretty human of you. If it makes you feel any better, you’ll probably have another fifty years of life even after you start aging again. It’s not like your body would instantly become.... how old are you?”

“One hundred and thirty.”

“Right.”

“Is there a way out of here?” Grace asked.

Alex shrugged. “There are lots of exits...the front door, the hoverport, and even a tunnel leading to town. The question is, can I get my men on any of them?”

“Well, can you?”

“We’ll just have to wait and see.”

How much time had passed? She missed her portable, which could chirp the time to her with a simple sub-vocal command. Even a window would help. For all she knew, she had been sitting like a zombie for over a day.

After their initial dialog, Alex did not prove to be up for conversation, so they sat in silence, listening to the hum of the building. It had a rhythm to it-the heating system waging a war against the elements, the electrical system sparking light and life, the plumbing moving water and refuse through the pipes.

At first, the sounds were annoying. Then they became a comforting lullaby sending her drifting off into light midday sleep. Then she woke, and they became maddening.

Finally, the sound of footsteps joined the background hum, and the farmer emerged, a stony expression on his face. “They’re everywhere today, looking for you and her. We may have to wait for that search to die down. If they don’t find you, they may think you’ve already gone.”

Alex exhaled slowly. “I was afraid of that. Keep an eye out and let us know when we should make our move.”

Without a word, the farmer disappeared again.

“So, this really is a prison,” Grace muttered. Her earlier impression of the place closed in around her and the staircase just looked like another kind of wall–a more fatal kind.