Medora Wars (24 page)

*****

Mayberry got up and walked out into the noisy command center with hundreds of staff members making frantic phone calls or furiously typing on keyboards. He slowly walked past the computer screens and found a small room to make a phone call.

The phone rang for half a minute with a small voice that finally picked up, “Mayberry?”

“Malik,” Mayberry said softly. “Talk.”

“What do you want to know?” Malik asked.

Mayberry scoffed. “Anything that you have to say. What in the fuck happened in Venezuela?”

“Only that the entire thing was a set up on both sides. The Chinese had no idea about anything. It was meant to just draw the United States, Venezuelan and Chinese navies into one place to destroy them. It was all too… orchestrated. Not a single brother from the Sirr was even in Venezuela. It was just a ruse and I had no idea. How sure are you that someone very high up in the government isn’t involved with the brotherhood?”

“Not very.”

“I’m going to meet the Sirr,” Malik responded quickly.

“When and where?”

“I don’t know. Probably in a few weeks.”

“Why?”

“I don’t know but we’re doing something big soon. Something really big.”

“Do you have any idea what it is?”

“It will be something in the United States. Just like I told you before.”

“Are you meeting the Sirr there?”

“Yes. We plan to rendezvous somewhere in Texas with him.”

“Texas…” Mayberry said, letting the word linger in his mind.

“I don’t know where exactly. I am almost positive that the Sirr is an American man.”

“How could you know?”

“Only context clues from Atash. The man has to be an extremely well connected person in the United States. He is able to lift a finger and move armies halfway across the world. He has got to be a person that knows so much about global leaders that he can blackmail his way into any situation. He’s a person who can wear a thousand different faces to anyone he wants.”

“It is extremely useful that you mention Texas.”

“Why?”

“Malik, you’ve hinted to a certain person that might be involved before…”

“Dr. Stark? Yes, yeah I do think he is a person who could easily fit the description of the Sirr but you know I have no evidence at all—”

“Do you know where Dr. Stark is right now?”

“No.”

“Right on the Texas border,” Mayberry said.

“That is interesting… If the brotherhood found out that the Sirr was just someone higher up in the American government that is manipulating us, it would completely destroy our confidence. I mean it would… it would change everything, for everyone.”

“I need you to know that if you’re meeting him it means you will become instrumental in whatever attack they’re planning here. Mass casualties might literally be prevented because of what you do in the next few days. Do you realize this?”

“Yes, I am aware,” Malik said in a monotonous tone.

“Where are you headed next? Where are you now? It’s time to get you out of there.”

“No, no, I’ve got to keep going with what I started. Can you get a hold of my ex-wife for me?”

“Well… yeah that’s not a problem, but—”

“Tell her the truth about what I did.”

“What do you mean?”

“About what happened to my son. You tell her what I did.”

“Well, I don’t know, legally—”

“I’ve got to go.”

“No, no wait!” Mayberry shouted. “Do you have any idea if anyone from your group has contacted Rambert directly?”

“I don’t know,” Malik said with a lonely voice and hung up.

Chapter Twenty: Merida, Mexico

“Malik, how are you?” Atash folded his arms as he walked into the room.

“I am well, brother,” Malik said.

“Do you think he believed you?”

“Who?”

Atash waited. “Who do you think I’m talking about?” he said.

“Mayberry always believes me, he’s an idiot.”

“Do you think they will target Stark?”

“I’m not sure… Maybe.”

“Good.” Atash smiled at Malik. “The Sirr says he is our biggest threat right now. He’s only one of two people that can disarm the virus, and the other person is now in prison.”

“I understand.”

“Do you know that the last chapter of your life is going to close soon?”

“Yes, I know that very well.”

“How did you feel about killing all those thousands of people in the ocean?”

“I honestly don’t feel much about it.”

Atash rubbed the bottom of his chin. “I believe you, brother.”

Malik looked down at the peeling plastic of the fake kitchen floor tiles and sighed.

“Is something wrong?” Atash softly touched his elbow.

“Ah, yes, you’ve sensed something in me, haven’t you?” Malik asked.

“What is it?”

“Nothing, I just have strange suspicions.”

“You still doubt?”

“I feel that things are going too smoothly for the brotherhood.”

“What do you mean?”

“Everything goes so perfectly. We have almost no opposition.”

“It’s because we’re being guided.”

“You could say that, yes. We only say that God is out there guiding us but in reality he is only a mortal construct that we invent so that we can talk about otherwise incomprehensible things.”

“Yes, of course.”

“I don’t know how, but the Sirr gets information so easily, so, so… quickly. He knows everything that is happening within different governments totally effortlessly.”

“Isn’t that good?”

“It is good, but it makes me question him.”

“Malik, the Sirr isn’t God. We don’t worship him. He’s simply a man, and he will die just like the rest of us soon.” Atash’s usual calm countenance had broken slightly when he spoke. “What do you question about him?”

“I question who is feeding him information, and I have worries that we’re all just… being fooled—tricked into doing something that we don’t understand.”

“Malik, you will finally understand once you meet him in person.”

“Have you ever met him?”

“No,” Atash said, without hesitation. “Not in person.”

“Who is he?”

“It doesn’t matter. What matters is what I’m about to tell you.”

“What?”

“It has to do with our final task.”

“Going to America?”

“Yes.”

“What are we going to do there?”

“We’re going to seize every nuclear warhead that the U.S. owns.”

Malik paused and stared at the lines around Atash’s mouth, failing to see any humor. “What are you even talking about? That’s over five thousand bombs.”

“That is just it. We really can do it. We can just walk right into America and do it, just like that.” Atash snapped his fingers.

“How? Is it because of the false intel I’ve been feeding Mayberry?”

“I’m not totally certain, but I do know that your President has moved all the warheads into one location, fearing that they would be stolen by us.”

“So, because he was scared that we would steal all the warheads, he put them all together so that we would be able to steal all the warheads?”

“Yes.”

Malik gave a laugh. “What?”

“We continue forward, cautiously, and with great diligence with our leader. I do trust him.”

“Does he tell you why we are doing this?”

“For once, yes, he said he’s finally taking away America’s crutch,” Atash said, using quotation marks with his fingers.

“But… why would he care?”

“I do not know, but we’re leaving the country in three hours. Go get the witness ready.” Atash walked out of the small kitchen, past several men working at foldout tables, and disappeared into a hallway.

Malik found Elise alone in her small room, chained to a stack of cinderblocks. They had to bring in the blocks after she had managed to pry free from exposed copper pipes in the wall. She was lying on the concrete floor, looking up at the single hanging light bulb in the ceiling.

“Malik?” she said without looking up at him. “Is that you?”

“Yes.”

“What do you want?”

“We are leaving to the States.”

“Have fun,” she said dryly.

“You will be joining us.”

“No, but thanks. I actually kind of like it here now.”

“I’m afraid I must insist,” Malik said monotonously.

“Stop talking like some robot. ‘I’m afraid I must insist,’ ” she repeated sarcastically.

“Would you rather that I come in and beat you?”

“Yes, actually it would be less painful at this point than hearing your bullshit.”

Malik walked over to unlock the several padlocks of her chains. “We’re going to the airport in an hour. You can bring with you whatever you want that’s in this room.”

“I generally don’t listen to baby murderers, Malik.”

He stopped undoing the chains from the stack of cinderblocks and stared at Elise.

She propped herself up on her elbows, and looked back up at him. “You murdered thousands of innocent lives on all of those ships, and you killed a small baby in cold blood.”

“The word ‘innocent’ doesn’t mean anything,” he said.

“Why do you think that you’re any different with your justification and philosophy than any other genocidal maniacs throughout all of history?”

He gave her a cold smile and folded his arms. “I don’t think I’m different than anyone. I’m nothing, and so are you, and so is everyone else that has lived or died or is going to die.”

“How many people have died?”

“Millions,” he said plainly.

“And one baby.”

“Yes.”

“Fuck you,” she added. “I guess I was wrong. You never were a father, because you never could have done something like that.”

“Oh, but I was. I had a son before. Don’t you see that I’m not that man anymore? That life is lost and gone forever.”

Elise got to her feet and looked at him, wincing in pain from her large puncture wound on her backside. “I’ve asked you before and I’ll ask you again, what happened to you?”

“I learned for myself that there is no God. Now pick up your fucking clothes, and get ready, or I will slit your throat right this second.”

*****

James Sheffield hadn’t eaten in ten days. He was, however, able to lap water up from a puddle that had formed in the corner of the dark basement room where he was kept. The puddle stayed small in the corner but drained from some unknown broken pipe system within the walls of the crumbling building. He stopped caring about why they decided to stop feeding him. He decided they didn’t really care anymore if he died. They only wanted to keep him in their back pocket if they needed him for an unplanned beheading.

He hadn’t seen another person for the same amount of time that he had been left without food. There were no voices on the other sides of the cement walls and no footsteps that could cast shadows from beneath the door. His thoughts flashed back and forth between how long it would take him to die and if he would ever see his family again. It was when he was in between one of these rants that the door to his room opened, revealing a single silhouette of a man holding a box.

“Hello?” Sheffield said softly with his voice cracking from thirst. He sat up from where he was lying.

The person stepped into the dark room and placed the box on the ground in front of Sheffield. “James,” a soft voice answered.

“What is…?” Confused, Sheffield swallowed, and grabbed at the box, hoping for food.

“James, you’re going to leave from here. You will be set free, but you must do something,” the man spoke clearly.

Sheffield dragged the cardboard box toward him and opened the top flaps. He fumbled with his fingers, felt a plastic wrapping of some sort, and pulled out what felt like a candy bar. Ferociously, he tore open the candy and chomped down on chocolate, stuffing the entire bar in his mouth as he chewed.

“There is some food and money and also…” the man trailed off as he saw Sheffield reach his arm once more into the box.

Feeling with his fingers, Sheffield noticed several cans and other small plastic packages, but then stopped when he felt something warm and soft. “What the…” He probed more when suddenly the box moved and a small cry came from within.

“You must take the baby home with you,” the man said, turning toward the doorway. “I’ll leave this door open. You can leave out the back door at the end of the hallway. No one will see you if you leave in the next fifteen minutes.” He walked out of the room and looked back at Sheffield. “Good luck, he is very sick.”