The Malefic Nation (Graham's Resolution Book 4) (17 page)

Rick had waited hours in the lockup for Reuben to relieve him of guard duty. He bounced a little rubber ball against the painted cinderblock wall. In his mind, he knew what must have happened, yet he didn’t want to believe it was true. Finally, Sam walked in, the next up as guard. When he saw Rick, he asked the obvious question: “Where’s Reuben?”

Without breaking his rhythm with the ball, Rick said, “I’m pretty sure I know, but someone should check his quarters. Did you see Lavinda or his daughters this morning at breakfast?”

“Um, no, but that’s not unusual. Sometimes they make their own breakfast at home.”

“Yeah, but something tells me this is different. Do you want to go check and see if they’re at home, or should I?”

“You think they left after the meeting yesterday?”

Rick shook his head and caught the ball in his fist one last time. “I’m pretty sure that might be it. Reuben’s always been—how should I say it—a little more moral than the rest of us. To a fault, he’s a moral man. That’s not a bad thing, but in a time like
this
it’s a bad thing.

“You don’t think he would rat on us, do you?”

Rick thought for a moment, “I hadn’t considered that. That would jeopardize everything.” He rose from his chair to let Sam take over. “I’ll check it out. The prisoners were still asleep, last time I checked. Nothing new.” He left the room and headed for Reuben’s home.

Once he reached the line of homes he scanned the area. This time of day, Reuben’s wife Lavinda often helped out in the main house, taking care of the children.

He saw Olivia standing in the kitchen kneading bread dough as a few of the children watched. “Hi Livy, have you seen Lavinda or Reuben’s girls today?” He’d tried to sound calm, but he was out of breath.

Olivia looked up at Rick, then did a double take when she recognized his urgent expression. “I can’t say that I have, now that you’re asking. Why?”

He looked around. “You haven’t seen them at all?”

She shook her head. “Maybe they’re taking a long morning to themselves.”

“Yeah, maybe that’s it,” he conceded.

Rick headed to Reuben’s family’s house, knocking twice on the door. “Shit,” he said under his breath, knowing full well what was going on. He tried the door and found it had been left unlocked—something Reuben would never do. “Reuben!” he yelled into the darkened living room. “Lavinda? Lawoaka?” Nothing. No one was home. He walked in farther and saw that their belongings were gone; the kitchen was devoid of food and supplies. They’d left. On the kitchen table he found a note addressed to Dalton.

“God dammit!”

Knowing Dalton was probably in Clarisse’s office at this time, he headed there first.

The townspeople looked up from their daily routine as Rick passed them; some of them waved. He tried not to look so intense, knowing that any unwanted attention might bring further suspicion. Then one of the guards stopped him. “Rick, is there something wrong?”

“Ah no, I’m just trying to get a little exercise as I run errands this morning. It’s been a while.”
Yeah, that didn’t sound suspicious at all.

“Okay. Don’t hurt yourself!”

Smartass,
he thought. “Nah, see ya later!”

After that he took it a little easier realizing that he was in fact drawing unwanted attention. He rounded the corner to Clarisse’s lab and took a deep breath before entering.

Clarisse was bent over a microscope, as usual, and Dalton worked at a desk with his head down. “Uh . . . hi!” Rick said.

“Hey, what’s up?” Dalton said.

Rick made sure to close the door securely behind him and then took out Reuben’s note and walked toward Dalton. “Reuben left this for you. It looks like they cleared out last night.”

“What?” Dalton said as he reached for the note.

“Yeah man, they’re gone. All their stuff’s gone including the food in the kitchen and the truck in front of their house. They packed up and left.”

“Reuben
left
?” Clarisse asked.

“Yeah, I don’t think he could handle our plan,” Rick said while Dalton read the note to himself.

“Sonofabitch! Where are the prisoners?” Dalton said.

“Did he tell Harding?” Clarisse asked.

Dalton held up a hand to stem the questions while he scanned the note. “It looks like he left Harding a note too. Quick, we’ve got to act now. It might already be too late. Clarisse, go ahead and give the prisoners the virus, we might not get another chance. Rick, come with me. Let’s try to run interference to give her enough time before it’s too late.”

Harding took his time on his morning run. Not only did he go the extra mile today, but he found he’d been pushing himself more in general lately. It was probably out of frustration. That or his lack of control when it came to the things he wanted. What he wanted was Clarisse, though that wasn’t going to happen and he could see that clearly now. This realization still made him frustrated, so he ran at a steady pace and continued well past his normal route.

He told himself he’d have to refocus. The town of Hope needed him. There was nothing more he could do other than be a symbol of the future yet to come. Now that his citizens were safe from the virus they could venture out more. He hoped that finally they would believe there was a future for them and possibly begin to procreate again.

Unless, of course, what the Americans had said about the terrorists was true. He let his mind settle after a while, paying attention only to the cadence of his shoes slapping against the pavement. All else he tuned out; the thought of terrorists responsible for global genocide was too much to consider.

Harding found himself changing direction back toward his house after he could no longer keep up a steady pace and showered off before heading in to work. There was much to be done in the days ahead. They needed to ramp up their food preservation activities for the harvest that would soon be coming in, and since they were now immune to the virus, thanks to the Americans, they could begin taking overnight trips to various areas to secure more supplies and see what was going on out in the rest of the world. Perhaps they could pick up more survivors. The first trip would most likely be to Vancouver, and he needed to get a group ready for that. How to conceal their missions from the terrorists he hadn’t quite figured out yet. He certainly didn’t want to lead them directly to Hope.

Once showered and dressed, Harding headed to his office. He would check in on Clarisse later in the afternoon. Even though he knew she was attached to Dalton, he still cared about her, and her mourning over Tala’s death weighed on him.

As he walked he saw Rick jogging toward Clarisse’s office when one of the guards stopped to talk to him. Rick was an odd one, but seemed nice enough. Harding didn’t interrupt their conversation and continued on as Rick waved good-bye to the guard and continued on his journey.

Once he sat down behind his desk Harding noticed a folded note with his name scribbled in pen across the top. He didn’t recognize the handwriting and so, intrigued, he sat down and opened up the letter.

A moment later, the paper slid between his fingers and fell to the floor beside his desk. He thought of Clarisse and only Clarisse.
Could Dalton have possibly made her do this?
He looked out his window facing the lake and saw the trees, now bearing fruit. He took a deep breath and picked up the phone. He knew this would be the last peaceful second before a chaotic storm.

“Lock down the base. Imminent threat.”

Sirens immediately sounded, piercing the tranquil quiet of what had started as just another ordinary day.

Clarisse quickly grabbed the syringes prefilled with the virus from the refrigerator. As Rick ran out the door with his weapon drawn, the sirens began to blare. Dalton stopped in his tracks and looked back at Clarisse. “Go!” he shouted, and she bolted out the back door.

Clarisse sprinted toward the lockup building. Soldiers were scattering, and residents looked confused and afraid. Once she got to the prison doors the guards stood in front of her, blocking entry. “Henry sent me here to stay inside, said there was a threat in the main building.”

“We’re not supposed to let anyone through.”

She tried again. “Look, that’s what Harding told me to do, he was worried I might get attacked.”

The soldiers looked at one another and then one of them motioned her through. “Just stay inside, in case something happens.”

She looked back at him, and one soldier shook his head and mumbled something to the other. She’d played on their sense of confusion, and so far it had worked.

Once inside she locked the main door behind her and saw Sam watching out the window.

“What the hell is going on?”

“I have to give the prisoners the
special vaccine
now, right now. Block the door.”

“You shouldn’t go back there alone.”

“We don’t have much choice. They’re going to stop us at any minute. Buy as much time as you can.”

She ran for the lockup cells in the back and saw that the prisoners were awake and confused by the loud alarms.

“Good morning,” she said out of breath and tried a bright smile though her hands were shaking. “Everything’s fine, it’s just a drill,” she said though she doubted they understood her words, she hoped her body language conveyed nonchalant ease.

“I’ve got a flu shot for you guys. It’s mandatory for everyone on base. If you’ll just come to the side here, I’ll give it to you and then Sam will bring you your breakfast.”

The young boy walked over sleepily. He shook his head no to Clarisse in protest of the shot.

She shook her head. “No shot, no food.”

The kid looked to the others and the older man nodded his head for the young man to comply.

Clarisse hesitated a second before she plunged the needle into his arm muscle. Though her stomach clenched for what she just condemned this life to, she continued. Next, the woman merely sat staring daggers at Clarisse. The man said something in Arabic, encouraging her to comply. The woman reluctantly got up and sauntered toward the bars. She moved her arm toward Clarisse, who immediately injected the virus into her arm, but just as she removed the needle, the woman reached through with her other arm and grabbed Clarisse around the neck, pulling her to the grate. Reaching through with her other arm, she wrapped her forearm around Clarisse’s throat to choke her. She braced her feet up on the bars in order to exert the most force in her effort to strangle Clarisse.

Clarisse struggled and tried to fight her off but, admittedly, her assailant had an excellent hold on her. Clarisse’s vision started to fade and she knew it was only a matter of time before she’d black out completely.

Suddenly a man’s hand pulled on the woman jihadist. Clarisse thought Sam must have heard the commotion and come from the front room. Freed, Clarisse fell to her knees on the concrete ground, heaved large breaths. She looked around, but Sam wasn’t there.

Instead, the woman was screaming something incomprehensible and kicking at the bars. The other prisoner that she’d yet to give the virus to held the female terrorist by her arms as she flung her limbs toward Clarisse in another attempt to grab her.

The man smiled at her, though he continued to hold the attacker until Clarisse was clear of her reach through the bars.

“Thank you,” she tried to say through her sore throat. “Please, please . . . don’t kill her.” The other woman continued to spit and hurl vile deciphered threats against her. He shook his head in amusement and then flung the woman to the floor of her cell.

There was a great commotion outside, and Sam yelled, “Clarisse, hurry up! They’re coming!”

The man behind the bars waved to her to approach. He seemed to somehow know. She retrieved the last syringe from where it landed on the floor, looking confused at the man. He smiled at her.

“You know?” she said.

“You must hurry,” was all he said as he lifted his sleeve.

She pushed in the needle that would take his life and the lives of many others in time. She pressed the plunger on the syringe, releasing the poison into him.

Soon guards were in the lockup, yelling and pointing guns at Clarisse. She dropped everything and held her hands in the air.

“What’s going on?” she yelled and feigned confusion.

One of the guards restrained her and held her hands behind her back. She let them confine her without a struggle, and then she was led out to the main room, where she saw Sam also constrained. She nodded at his questioning look, and then he diverted his gaze. One of the guards confiscated the used syringes from the floor of the prison and looked at the prisoners.

Lieutenant Harding approached, and the guard held the syringes at his eye level.

“Clarisse, What have you done?” Harding whispered to her, staring deeply into her eyes.

She didn’t answer.

Dalton burst through the front door. “Graham, load them up. Load everything and everyone up—
now
. We have five minutes. Leave the rest.”

Graham was sitting with Tehya in his arms, feeding her, as Bang rested to the side of the living room chair. “Why? What the hell happened?”

“They found out. Reuben squealed; he couldn’t just keep our plans to himself. Instead, he’s jeopardized everything and put Clarisse in danger. They probably already have her locked up. I just hope she was able to give the virus to the prisoners.”

“No!” Graham said. “McCann and the kids went fishing about an hour ago with the horses. They all took off this morning. I thought it was a good thing for them to do.”

“Can we radio them?”

“Yeah.”

Dalton thought for a minute. “That’s good, actually. Quick, tell them to make it to the main road, but to hide out there until we come. Tell them
not
to come back here. Hurry, man, we have little time.”

Graham nodded and took the baby with him and Bang into the back. He radioed Macy with the plan, then he packed up each and every room as fast as he could while Bang watched Tehya.

Meanwhile, Dalton had to get Clarisse and Sam back as well as free the prisoners, and he had no idea how in the world he was going to manage that. It all depended on Harding and to what extent he was willing to go. At the moment Dalton was more concerned about Clarisse and if Harding would try to use her as a bargaining chip.

Rick ran into his own home and gave Olivia the news to pack up the children and the household as fast as she could.

Soon they were throwing things into the trucks they’d brought—minus the one the Reuben had taken with him the night before. Bang remembered the chickens and hurried to round them up into boxes. Dalton packed up the food supply as Graham ran yet more stuff from Lucy and Macy’s room out to the truck. In no time they were as loaded down as they had been when they came in to Hope, and that was only due to their preparedness measures and the fact that they had few belongings.

Dalton was left with the items that Clarisse kept in her lab, including the vaccines and the virus she’d developed herself. He had to get to the lab, but he thought that might be where they were holding her. He would go there next after Graham and Olivia drove most of their supplies out of town and toward the kids waiting with the horses.

Dalton, loaded for bear, pounded twice on Graham’s truck as Tehya cried in the backseat and Bang tried to comfort her. The guards were waiting at the closed gate. Dalton told Graham to try to reason with the guards, but to bust through the gate if he had to. They doubted the guards would fire on them.

He and Rick watched the exit, and though there was shouting, the guards opened the gate and let them leave without incident. Once they were safely on the other side, Dalton and Rick made their way to the lockup.

Dalton had no idea what Harding was going to do so he simply left Rick to cover him and walked first up to lockup building, where men guarded the entrance.

“Hey, fellas. Can you let me in? I need to see how Sam is doing.”

“It’s on lockdown, and our orders are to detain you on sight,” a guard responded.

Dalton had been pretty sure this would happen, but he was surprised when a few seconds passed and the two guards had made no move to handcuff him.

“So . . . are you going to detain me?”

The soldiers diverted their eyes from Dalton, and one said, “We haven’t seen you, sir.”

One of them stepped aside and Dalton quickly hurried past them and into the lockup building. As soon as he walked in, the first thing he saw was that—at the end of the long corridor past the cells—the back door stood wide open and a truck was parked in front of it. At that moment Sam rushed in the back door.

“What the hell’s going on?” Dalton asked.

“They’re helping us. Hurry! I’ve got the boy inside the truck already. The female’s a bitch, though; I’m going to have to hogtie her.”

That’s when Dalton noticed the bloody marks on Sam’s hand.

Sam glanced down at his arm. “It’s nothing, the boy wanted to fight,” he said dismissively.

Dalton wasn’t sure what Sam might have done to the boy in the fight to get him into the truck so he asked, “Is
he
okay?”

“Yeah, he’ll live—for a while anyway.” He let that statement float away, with all its implications.

“It’s the bitch that I’m concerned with. She tried to choke Clarisse in there, but the guy in the next cell intervened. I couldn’t get back here fast enough.”

Dalton was horrified. “Is Clarisse okay?”

“I don’t know. I think so. It looked like she was scratched up pretty bad, but she’s alive. They took her to the lab. Sorry, man. There’s was nothing I could do.”

Dalton nodded to the quiet man behind the bars and he wasn’t surprised to see he nodded back. “Yeah, Rick said he was remorseful. I’m just thankful. He looked directly at the man. “Thank you.”

The woman chanted, rocking back and forth, and the man sat solemnly atop his cot.

“Well, we can’t shoot her. What are we going to do?” Dalton said.

Sam held several PlastiCuffs in his hand and said, “It’s like wrestling a bear. Freight train through it, man.”

“Oh great. Well, you know I’ve been there. She can’t be that bad.”

They opened the cell and it took both he and Dalton to hold her down as she tried to claw at them. She managed to bite Dalton’s forearm as Sam whipped a cuff round her wrists. He was tempted to strike her across the face, but didn’t.

Out of breath by the time they were through subduing her, they tossed her into the back of the truck along with the boy and then rushed back inside to get the last man. They heard shouting around the front of the building and knew their time was running out.

Once back inside, the man held his hands out for them to restrain him. Totally compliant, the prisoner even tried to rush them into fleeing when they heard more voices. Once in the truck, Dalton told Sam, “Look, take off. Get them out of here. Run through any barrier you have to.”

“Addy?”

“She’s already out there with Graham and the others. Just
go
. You’ve got the radio.”

“Where are you and Rick going?”

“To Clarisse. They still have her.”

Sam nodded and then floored it, heading for the main entrance. Dalton watched him as he took off; the guards didn’t even try to stop him at that rate of speed. In fact, they opened the gate when they saw him coming. Not one shot was fired.
Something screwy is going on with some of these guards.
They sure are making this easy.

“Go Sam,” Dalton whispered before he ran off to meet up with Rick, who was keeping an eye on the lab where they thought Clarisse was being questioned by Harding.