The Demon Plagues (29 page)

General Tyler disagreed, “He’s not gonna
cooperate. The SS tried to kill him with nanites in Geneva not more
than a month ago. So he ain’t gonna be too friendly. Looks like the
Plague beats Tiny Fortress.”

JT laughed, shrill.

Skull shrugged with a wry smile. “The SS
tried to shoot down his plane, too, and I took out the kill team.
Yes, that was me. Just me. One man, one gun. I saved his life, so
he’s going to listen to me. And you know why he’ll do just about
anything I ask?”

The three men stared at Skull.

“It’s because he wants to save me. I’m the
one that got away, that turned his salvation down. He’s got a Jesus
complex. Not only does he want to save the world, he wants to save
my soul so bad he can taste it.”

General Tyler cleared his throat. “So…why do
you want to save him?”

Skull’s mouth snapped shut. His eyes narrowed
angrily. “You’re proving my point. We have a relationship. God
knows what it is sometimes but it’s there. Do you have anyone else
that does? No. Then you need me. In fact, that’s another reason to
listen to me. You people are too focused on beating Markis and the
Free Communities. You’ve absorbed that Unionist crap without even
realizing it. But you can’t beat him; you can’t beat the Plague,
not in the next few weeks or months, but even if you could, what
about the aliens?”

“Is that what you really care about? Beating
the aliens?” asked the General.

“Yes, sir. I care about that before
everything, and you should too. And after that I care about lifting
this country back on its feet. And that’s why you want me, General.
Because you know what kind of man I am. I’m your best friend and
your worst enemy. So if you want to arrest me, do it now.
Otherwise, sir, put me to work.”

General Tyler looked past Skull’s bravado to
see the hidden pain in his eyes, the pleading in his offer.
This
wild dog’s been too long out in the cold, and he wants back in by
the fire. Wants a master to tell him it’s gonna be all right. Wants
his job back guarding the herd
. Tyler made a decision, stuck
out his hand. “All right. Welcome to the team, Warrant Officer
Denham. I think I can swing a little promotion for you.”

-35-

Testosterone reek filled the locker room.
Skull watched as the other nine muscled spec-ops veterans traded
gibes and half-serious insults. He was an outsider, and they didn’t
much know what to make of him. Older than any by more than twenty
years, in shape but not muscular, thin, tall and cadaverous, he did
not fit the mold.

One of the younglings finally decided to test
the grizzled wolf. “Hey, Denham…what’s an old fart like you doing
here?” The man’s demeanor wavered between interested, respectful
and disdainful.

Skull’s thousand-yard stare spoke of
experience and ruthlessness, if not dominance. He turned his cold
eyes on his questioner, augers boring into the younger man’s head.
“No story. I have a skill set certain people would like preserved
and enhanced. I’m here for the nanomachines, not to measure dicks
with hotshots. Stay out of my way, and we won’t have a
problem.”

The young tough bristled, but a slightly
older one, a short black man with a skintight haircut, pushed in
front, holding out his hand. “Joshua Huff. Master Sergeant,
Pararescue. Don’t mind McCarthy here. He’s got more muscles than
brains. All SEALs do.”

Skull considered a moment, then shook the
man’s paw. “Call me Skull. PJ, huh? Markis was a PJ. You going to
get all mushy on us too?”

Huff’s eyes narrowed briefly, then he broke
into snowy-toothed laughter, deliberately putting his tongue all
the way out, a comic face. “The way I hear it, he got –” he twirled
a finger around next to his ear – “all woohoo from brain damage
before everything started. But I looked at his record – the man won
the goddamned Air Force Cross, one step below the Medal of Honor. I
hear you knew him.”

“Know him. Yes, I do. Brothers in arms, and
all that. We just don’t see eye to eye any more. Listen, Huff, I
appreciate your stepping in, but I’m not here to make friends. I
work alone. Always have.”

“Yeah, they called you ‘The Ghost’ down in
Mexico when you was poppin’ SS. Yassuh boss," he said, putting it
on, "we heard 'bout dat. I’m sure you got your reasons but,” Huff
poked a blunt finger into Skull’s chest, “you better get on the
team now. ‘Cause I hear you’re on probation, Chief, and sometime
soon you might need a little backup from your new brothers in arms.
Got it, bruh?” Huff swaggered off, drawing his posse after him.

That’s what they are; he’s got them all
following him. I’m not sure if he was trying to bully me for real
or just for effect, but I think he defused the problem while
sending me the message that he's in control. I just don’t have the
patience for this macho bullshit anymore.

He dressed in his uniform. The new-style
camouflage pattern with the equally unfamiliar Marine Warrant
Officer’s bar nevertheless made his heart seize up with pride and
gratitude at his restoration.
There’s nothing better than being
a Marine; not sex, not drugs, not money, nothing.

Wearing that rank also set him apart from the
others. Unlike him, they were all enlisted men; it was one thing to
have a little discussion in the locker room, quite another to do so
in public, stripes and youth automatically redefining their
relationships with him and his bars.

Skull stepped into the briefing room, taking
a seat near the back. Besides the nine men he had already seen, a
woman in a spotless white Navy commander’s uniform sat across and
down from him, looking relaxed, sipping coffee. Short, young, maybe
twenty-five, with freckles and kind eyes and a cross prominently
displayed.
Chaplain? Weird. And young to be a Commander…uh
oh.

Raising the cup to him, she saw him glance at
her and stiffen with recognition – not of
who
she was, but
of
what
, she was sure. She could almost see him shrink back
in revulsion. Propagandized people reacted to Edens like that;. she
shrugged at him as if to say,
what can you do?

Everyone surged to their feet as General
Tyler came into the room, followed by an aide and Doctor Durgan,
who avoided looking at Skull. “Carry on, please take your seats,”
the General said, but kept his own feet.

“Before we begin I’d like to introduce
Commander Christine Forman. She’s an honest-to-God chaplain –
that’s a joke, people, you laugh at Generals’ jokes – and as some
of you noticed, she’s an Eden as well. She’s fully briefed and she
will be assisting in a number of capacities. One is yes, as a
chaplain, so if any of you want to avail yourself of her services,
I am sure she would be happy to listen. The other is as a guinea
pig. It may surprise you, but we’ve been having some trouble
finding Edens to volunteer to be injected with our little
machines.”

This time nervous and compliant laughter bled
off some tension. “But in my book that makes her a brave lady and a
fine
American
officer –” he stressed that word – “so if you
really want my boot crammed up your ass, please, go ahead. Give her
a hard time.” Tyler’s stare swept the room like a machine gun. “And
after the surgery, you’ll be back at your home station before you
can sneeze. You’re kidding, right, McCarthy? You’re not going to
ask me ‘what surgery,’ are you?”

Huff whispered something to McCarthy, who
made an ‘I got it’ face and nodded.

-36-

Cassandra raised her voice in anger.
“Daniel, you have done some crazy things before but this takes the
cake. You’re going to get yourself killed!”

Chairman Markis held his hands up, palms out.
“Not if you and Karl do your jobs. Senior leaders have been doing
this type of thing for a hundred years.”

“Unannounced visits to friendly places, or
bases, sure. Not flying straight into enemy territory!” So unusual,
her voice became even more shrill. “Your judgment’s been clouded by
your proximity to the suggestion.”

“You think I’ve been swayed just because the
idea came from my wife and Larry? Cassie, the US is not the enemy
anymore. In fact, it’s your country and mine, now that the
Constitution reigns supreme again. President McKenna is a good man.
We need him. We need him to order the US military to
cooperate.”

“They might tell him to go pound sand, DJ.
The SS, the military, and the Unionist Party were the unholy
trinity of the United Governments, and two of the three have not
changed!” She knew she was fighting a losing battle, but she was
determined to make the best case she could.

“I have it on good authority – yours – that
McKenna is going to disband the SS, roll them into a new Homeland
Security department.”

“A change of name only,” she grumbled.

Markis pressed her. “The military backs the
civilian bureaucracy, the civilians back the military, and both of
them have outlawed the Unionists and are dismantling the SS. Now is
the time to act.”

Cassandra sighed. “I never had a chance of
talking you out of this, did I?”

“Nope. I just wanted you to get it out of
your system. Because you’re coming along.” Markis’ grin of
schadenfreude
was infuriating, priceless. “And so is Jill
Repeth.”

***

“Sergeant…Burstead, is it?”

The young Homeland Security trooper looked up
lazily from his desk, and then did a comical double-take. He
stumbled to his feet, nearly falling over his own chair, ending up
using it for support. “Uhhh…Special Agent Adams! Sir!” He bolted
the four steps to his boss’s door. “Sir, it’s CHAIRMAN MARKIS.”

“No shit?” Adams threw down the file he had
been reading and pushed past Burstead to where Markis, Cassandra
and Karl stood waiting, flanked by their security team. “Wow! I
mean, sir, welcome to Pueblo, I didn’t know you were coming, what
can I do for you?”

Markis’ voice was dry. “No one knew I was
coming. Would you please notify President McKenna that I would like
to see him at his earliest convenience? If he could send some
Secret Service folks out to give us a ride, I would appreciate
it.”

Adams entire body was animated, quivering.
“Ha, no way, sir. If I do that, it will turn into a nutroll. I’ll
take you in myself, me and my staff. Burstead, go commandeer a
shuttle bus, chop chop!”

Twenty minutes later the bus, with Karl and
the PSD nervously looking out the windows, rolled through the gate
of the old Colorado State University campus, now the home of the
provisional Capital of the United States of America. They parked in
a lot near the Executive Building. Secret Service vehicles and
officers immediately surrounded the bus and cordoned off the
area.

“Stay here, Karl. You can’t be running around
with weapons, and you’re on their turf now. I’m going in alone. You
just liaise with Adams here. I’ll be fine.” Markis touched his
lapel, and Karl winked in return. Then he stepped out onto the hot
asphalt.

Two secret service agents walked confidently
up to Markis, at least until they saw who he was. Then they checked
stride, stopping about twenty feet away. One spoke into a radio,
listening for a reply. Then he walked up to Markis. “If you’ll come
with me, sir, the President is waiting.”

“Outstanding.”

After a short walk and a lot of amazed
stares, Markis was ushered into the august presence of President
Nathan B. McKenna. His eyes were bloodshot above dark circles, and
his hair was whiter than the media portrayed him.

“Good afternoon, Mister President.” Markis
held out his hand.

“Well I’ll be a monkey’s uncle. Chairman
Markis. Did you ever think we’d be standing here like this?”
McKenna held out his hand to shake firmly.

A kind of moan escaped the nearest Secret
Service agent and he took a step forward as if to intervene.

“You stand fast there, Tompkins. The Eden
Plague isn’t Ebola, you know. Besides, they say you can’t get it
except by fluids, right? Markis, you plan on kissing me?”

“Not unless you really want me to. But I have
to say, I think you could use a little Eden about now.”

McKenna shook his head. “Sometime, maybe when
this is over. Even though the Unionists have been tossed out, their
lies still linger. Americans won’t accept an Eden president
yet.”

“Same old story of prejudice and
bigotry.”

“There’s always enough of that to go around.
Here, let’s sit down. You want anything?”

“I could use a beer, if you have one.” Markis
rubbed his day-old stubble.

Mckenna laughed. “Thompkins, go get us some
beers.” His face turned serious. “Now, what the hell do you
want?”

Markis looked around the office. “You know,
I’m unarmed. I’m not going to try to infect anyone. And this
conversation is very need-to-know.”

McKenna nodded at another agent, who
evacuated the room except for herself, and Agent Thompkins with the
beer. “All the agents are cleared but two should be enough to keep
them from getting too nervous. Sandy, tell them to initiate
security protocols.”

A red light came on above each door, and the
two agents still there backed up to the far end of the room. “All
right. You’re here, what’s this all about?”

Markis took a drink from a longneck bottle,
ignoring the glass. “It’s about Tiny Fortress.”

Color drained out of McKenna’s face, but he
recovered quickly. “Sorry, not sure what you mean.”

“You know, Tiny Fortress, it’s like a big
fortress only smaller. I hear you’re making them now, just in time
for birthdays – my kids would love some…” Judging by McKenna’s
frozen face, Markis’ attempt at humor fell flat. "You should know,
we have proof. Samples of the nanobots."