Toxic (9 page)

“No radiation,” Naakrit said. “They didn't use atomics to zap their facilities.”

The science of the destruction suggested dozens of different ways of arriving at the same result. Whatever one the humans had used, Oleg was telling the truth. They wouldn't find anything here. Deception filled Jave's thoughts. Regardless, they continued the visit and explored the lower levels. All around, they strode along hallways and rooms which were equally black, lacking any clues. The Primark sighed in exasperation multiple times. After an hour of fruitless searching, he called for the end of the search. “We're going back up.”

One of the mercenaries rose up to Naakrit's height. “We need to set a new itinerary.”

The drone posted at the entrance displayed the image of hurried infected creatures around the entrance to the subway. Naakrit turned towards Oleg. “Is there another exit?”

He shook his head energetically. This attitude reminded Jave of the moment before he had gotten angry during the questioning. Of course, he had feigned it, but he had benefited from the Russian's petrifying fear.

“Oleg... You're not cooperating,” he threatened.

The emissary pointed at this vibroblade. “This exit, where is it?”

“It's an emergency exit. We could reach it in the case of an emergency from each floor. Well, in theory at least. I've never taken it.”

“Why didn't the scientists use it to escape from death?”

“I don't know.”

With his black hands, he pointed to the far end of the hallway. The mercenaries unblocked the entrance. Like everything conceived by humans, it was made to their morphology. They evolved in confined spaces, with people annoying one another in narrow concrete stairwells. They made a mistake by letting Oleg go first. While they were going along with difficulty, he took advantage of the situation to give them the slip. When they realized that he had disappeared, Naakrit fumed. “I'm going to find that vermin and hang him on the processing chain myself!”

When they got to the top of the underground, they came hurtling into a warehouse which opened onto the river. Before them were hundreds of burst-open crates. Debris and other materials spattered the ground leading to the pier. In the distance, the current carried plants.

“Interesting,” Jave declared.

“W
e're not going to Rio.”

To these hastily hidden words, Elaine responded with a helpless smile. “I’m afraid we aren't.”

Dewei leaned his head on his dog-eared notebook. In his tiny hands, his pencil darkened the lines with frenzy.
We're going back north
.

Elaine gave him a questioning look and then shrugged her shoulders. Communication was being established between them bit by bit. He went back to scribbling.
He changed his mind.

He was talking about the Colombian.

She then turned towards Hector, who was still seated at the helm, shotgun placed in an obvious position to remind people of who was in charge.
Had he heard her arguments?
They wouldn't have time to cross the Gulf with bags of chips and a few bottles of water.
For sure, junkies could survive with less per day
, she told herself. They arrived constantly at Jackson Memorial, easy to recognize due to their waxy complexion which contrasted with their blood-shot eyes. Their gaunt flesh was a testimony to the bad treatment that they gave their bodies. The Colombian didn't use drugs. On the contrary, he had a full body. If he didn't use but had a drug stash on board, that wasn't her business after all. What did it matter now?

On the other side, Bruce walked towards the railing and unbuckled his belt. “We can't go to the shitter... but I've got to piss.”

Alva smiled. “You at least, you're lucky. You can pull your member out. Me and the nurse, what do we do now? Close up our ass or put a cork in it?”

“Ah, that feels good!” responded Bruce.

The bitter tone of the singer, voluntarily audible, seemed like some sort of disguised message for Hector, who disappeared in the cockpit. He came back with a blue basin which he slid along the deck. Alva looked at the recipient with disdain. Then, she grabbed it. Rather haughtily and definitely gifted with a sense of theatricality, she walked towards him. She was wearing capris and a lace-necked tank top. She balanced the plastic basin on the rear deck and threw her black hair behind her. Elaine, Masters and Bruce froze, for fear of Hector's reaction. Alva crouched down, giving them an unobstructed view of her cleavage. “I deserve better than this. I'm going to go to the bathroom and shower.”

Silence ensued. Masters became tense. Elaine shot him a wink to reassure him. The singer knew what she was doing. Even if this sort of situation could get out of hand, she also wanted a moment of comfort, to clean off the smells, blood stains and to scrub away the horrors incrusted on her skin. Alva played her part intelligently.

“I'm asking you, as a favor.”

The lips of the Colombian stretched. She was a master of this behavior and from her calm attitude, Elaine understood that this wasn't the first time.

“
Sí
, everyone can clean themselves up a bit. One by one only. I'll kill the first person who tries to pull anything. And of course, don't take too long. Potable water is limited.”

The woman thanked Hector with an eloquent smile. When she came back towards the group, she sported a satisfied expression. “I negotiated, so I'm first.”

Elaine spread her hands as a sign of agreement.

In the early evening, they congratulated each other on their re-found humanity. The mere smell of soap, to feel clean, was enough for each of them to feel happy. Even Dewei had asked to clean himself.

On the horizon, a column of smoke cooled the atmosphere, bringing them back to reality: drones could be on them at any moment.

“Most likely a boat on fire,” the colonel said.

“Were they attacked like us the other night?”

“I don't know. Before this morning, in the port, I didn't know you.”

Bruce showed his curiosity and his insensitivity. “Oh yeah? What the hell were you doing in that shit hole? The whole area is infected, except you.”

Masters shot him a nasty look. “I managed to survive by living with the rats.”

With these words, he went and sat with his back against the cabin door. Elaine joined him. “He didn't mean it like that.”

Fifteen minutes later, Bruce apologized and the marine accepted his outstretched hand. They talked for a moment, and the conversation quickly turned to the boat. The young man touched the base of the mast and asked what was the point of folding it up. Masters shared his own experience. “It's a semi-sub. The hull is filled with ballasts which fill up upon diving. The tourist companies used them to send customers to discover reefs or the bottom of lakes. I had the chance to visit what was left of the Great Barrier Reef on board a similar vessel.”

“Oh! That must have been great. Did the hostesses wear bikinis?”

Bruce wanted to calm down the atmosphere, above all, Elaine imagined.

“Not even. The trip was ridiculously expensive. Two rows of seats crammed behind one another, ten bucks for a cold drink.”

“They wanted to make a profit on their investment, I suppose.”

“Of course. But sometimes they go too far. On the other hand, our savior over there must have got his investment back on his first trip.”

“Oh?”

Masters smiled. “The cartels bought these ships because they were capable of diving to escape the coastguard. The fiberglass hull, with the carbon mast: there aren't many metal pieces for radar to lock onto.”

Alva stopped caressing her hair. The brown-haired woman, who was feeling flirty, bent over and lowered her voice. “You're saying that he's transporting drugs?”

“I didn't see any.”

“In the bathroom hallway, I saw three closed doors,” Alva whispered.

The trio kept at it in low voices.

Hector watched their dealings from his post without intervening. He held the only weapons on board, which allowed him to control the situation. But regardless, this type of secretive muttering risked to stir up defiance and sooner or later, the slightest whisper would awake his fears.

“Well then, Masters serves his country, Alva is an artist and me, I'm a nurse. And Bruce... We're curious to discover what's hiding under your ample t-shirt.”

He stretched it to show the word
Gators
, which she noticed for the first time.

“I'm a student. Well, I was. University of Florida and Gators fan, as you can probably see.”

“What did you study?”

“Oh... before the invasion, I was studying marine biology, the pollution of costal ecosystems.”

Masters raised an eyebrow. “The aliens found a radical solution to that problem.”

“By suppressing our species?”

Once again, the conversation took a speculative and even macabre turn. Bruce signed. “I heard that they capture healthy populations. But I don't know what becomes of these poor people. Nobody knows. Nobody has even seen one of these creatures. We only see the drones that infest the sky like the infected infest the land.”

“They aren't interested in the infected?”

“Who could pay the slightest attention to an L-D? They're no longer human.”

The elusive look of the colonel expressed a sort of unease, but he didn't add anything to Bruce's rant.

“And him?” Alva asked, pointing to the Asian.

Elaine spoke for him. “Our friend is called Dewei and he communicates with the help of his notebook. I think he has some sort of autism.”

“He looked different on the pier,” noted Masters. “You could have thought him infected.”

“He has crises. Maybe they produce comparable effects. We have to watch out for him.”

“Great. That's all we needed,” the artist muttered.

All four ventured an annoyed glance in the direction of the sleeping boy.

Then, the Colombian surprised everyone. He brought a case of beer. His sudden move closer put an end to the debate, but nobody turned up their nose to the drink. Hector sat beside the colonel. “The canal is closed,
sí
?”

Yeah, it's nowhere near reopening. To get to Buenaventura by sea, you can still go the long way around, by the Strait of Magellan. If that’s tempting to you, good luck! And let me off before.”

Masters raised his drink to their host and then took a sip.

“Colombia has coastline on the Gulf of Mexico and therefore ports,” Bruce proposed.

“
Sí
. Even during normal times, I wouldn't travel across the country. Too dangerous. I’m planning to keep my life and this boat. On the water, we are safer than on land.”

“So, you're planning to drift around indefinitely?”

Elaine bit her lip. Hector found the student's remark amusing. “Marine biology, eh?”

“Yeah. Third year.”

“
Bueno tio
. Stick to talking about what you know.”

Because the captain seemed in the mood, she took a shot. “We're sailing to the north, right?”

“
Sí
.”

“Are you planning on letting us off somewhere?”

“You're right. I'm going to need supplies and fuel. We'll arrive in Miami at dawn.”

Alva's eyes sparkled upon hearing the news. Her city most likely sported a completely different face that the one she knew. Like all big cities, it was under the threat of aliens and invaded by the infected.

“I haven't gone back there since the invasion,” she admitted.

The disappointment will be terrible,
thought Elaine.

“Where were you?” asked Hector.

“In rehab.”

C
harging at the broken glass façades, Naakrit felt the excitement of the hunt. His instinct pierced the veneer of control which characterized his commanding style. He got rid of the information projected on the helmet's visor and gained altitude. With his winger charged with covering him, they strung along the turns and the climbs. The two other mercenaries, who had remained at the dock, assured the emissary's protection. He wasn't in any danger. He wanted to watch the Lynian's activities, in case he made any important progress.

Fundamentally, he had his doubts, but Jave had figured out the situation on the day he arrived, which put a shadow on his own abilities. Naakrit had to watch out. And by what miracle of intuition had he understood the importance of this Oleg?