Jeff Carlson - Plague War

“I’m making my calls,” she said.

Caruso stood up as if to block her way. “We just don’t use the cell network down here,” he said. “We need a few minutes.”

“No.” Ruth held up her button. Caruso backed off. Then she walked through the dense rows of men and women, doing her best to ignore their faces. Estey had the right idea. These people were hostile and confused, and she couldn’t let any of it affect her. She stopped beside the comm specialist who had been given her numbers. Caruso and Shaug were right behind her, along with Estey and most of the USAF commandos.

“Goldman!” Shaug said.

She raised her voice to match. “If I crack this seal, everyone in this room will be breathing nanotech in seconds. Put me on the phone. Now.”

“It will get you, too,” Shaug said.

“I knew that when I walked in here.” Ruth blinked suddenly, not wanting him to see her tears — but her honesty rattled them more than any threat.

“Okay,” Caruso said. “Okay. Just wait.”

Ruth held two swords at their throats. The tiny glass packets she’d worn into the bunker were only the ‚rst of her weapons, because given the choice, she’d realized there was no choice. She needed to honor the effort and sacri‚ce of people like Hernandez and the Boy Scouts and every nameless soldier who’d died in the attempts to rescue her, even the invaders — even Nikola Ulinov. She wanted to save all of the survivors of the machine plague and the war.

Ruth had used the great leaps forward she’d found in the new vaccine and the booster, but instead of improving the booster she’d created a very dangerous new ANN, a parasite capable of interfering with and shutting off both versions of the vaccine. Permanently. The parasite had no other effects or functions, but that was enough, forever denying the world below ten thousand feet to anybody it touched. Someone with the parasite inside them would never be able to host the vaccine again. It would ruin the armies spread across the western United States, robbing them of artillery and armor and far too many more lives as they scrambled back to the barrier.

It would brie†y cause the ‚ghting to intensify. In Utah, the Russians’ only choice would be to charge into the guns of the American positions east of Salt Lake City. In Colorado, the Chinese would face the same problem. Their reserves and supply chains throughout the Southwest would be devastated. The advantage would swing to the United States, and yet that ‚rst day would be horri‚c. The losses on all sides would be crippling.

Ruth had sworn to do this unless there was a cease-‚re and unconditional withdrawal. Unfortunately, she needed some cooperation. The enemy would take any threat of nanotech seriously, but words alone wouldn’t stop them. There had to be proof, so she’d also designed a second model of the parasite. This one had a strict governor. It would only affect an area the size of a few city blocks, instead of replicating without end.

It was this second ANN that she’d worn into the bunker. She had also left four capsules of it for them to ‚nd in her lab. They would need jets equipped with missiles that had been stripped of explosives, carrying only the nanotech — and even as America announced its ultimatum, they could hit four places deep inside enemy lines, delivering incontrovertible evidence of the parasite’s strength.

There were too many details for it to be done instantly. Ruth expected to have to push them every step of the way, holding Grand Lake hostage for hours or days. That was the real reason for the ‚rst, ungoverned version of the parasite. This morning Cam and Deborah had both left the mountaintop with capsules full of billions of the parasite, running in opposite directions. They would disperse it on Ruth’s command or if anyone found and cornered them, or if she failed to make contact at all.

“Call the eight four six number ‚rst,” she said, studying the complicated radio console. “Give me your headset.” If they had someone tap the line, she wouldn’t know, but she didn’t want to be on an open microphone.

The comm specialist obeyed. He punched in the number and Ruth heard a normal telephone ring tone, once, twice. It was a stranger who answered. “Burridge,” a man said, and Ruth went cold.

She yanked the headset away with her bad hand. “This is the wrong number,” she said, whirling on the specialist.

“No, ma’am. It’s correct.”

“Burridge,” the man repeated as Ruth pressed the earpiece back against the side of her head, breathing deep in an attempt to control her panic. My God, she thought. Lord God. He was a soldier or an intelligence agent. Ruth knew they answered calls with their last name, so she responded the same way.

“This is Goldman,” she said, testing him.

“We have your friend in custody, Dr. Goldman. And the nanotech. We—”

“Let me talk to her.”

“We know where the other man went—”

“Let me talk to her!” Ruth shouted. The triumph on Shaug’s face made her †ush with rage. She nearly snapped the glass pack in her ‚ngers. Instead, she looked away and inadvertently found Estey. His mouth was open with fear. He understood.

Without the outside threat, Ruth would not be able to control them. Even if she infected the people inside this bunker, they were already trapped by their duties here. They could quarantine themselves. It had always been a weak threat to tell them they’d have to stay, and Ruth sagged as Estey rushed to hold her arm. My God.

Finally, Deborah Reece came on the line with none of her usual arrogance. “Ruth, I,” she said. “Ruth, I’m sorry. You can’t do this.”

* * * *

Deborah had been uncertain. That was why Ruth called her ‚rst. She didn’t worry about Cam, but the look in Deborah’s eyes still lingered in her mind. When she passed over the vials she’d smuggled out of the lab, Deborah had closed her ‚ngers on the small plastic capsules as if to hide them. This doesn’t seem right, Deborah said, and Ruth covered her friend’s hand with own. We can stop the war, Ruth said, but she hadn’t been able to say enough.

Deborah had turned herself in.

* * * *

“It’s over,” Shaug said, gesturing for the headset.

Ruth stepped back from him. “You don’t have my other guy,” she said. She’d almost used his name. Maybe she still should. Foshtomi had immediately guessed who was helping her and it might improve her stance if they knew who held the parasite— one of the few men who’d walked out of Sacramento. “Make the call,” she said. “You’re short on time.”

“We’ll ‚nd him,” Shaug said.

“I don’t care. If he pops the capsule, that’s it. The nanotech hits us ‚rst. You lose everyone who’s evacuated and every forward unit across the Rockies.”

Caruso grimaced. “This is insane.”

“Make the call,” Ruth said to the comm specialist before she turned to Shaug and Caruso again. “Don’t you get it? If you do it my way, the Chinese retreat. We win. Please.” She stared into their faces. “Please.”

The headset only rang once.

“Yeah,” Cam said, as steady as always. His voice set her heart thumping again.

“Are you okay?” she asked, too loud.

“Yeah. What’s going on?”

Ruth found it very easy to picture him alone with nothing except his ri†e and his pack, hurrying across the mountainside. After all this time, he belonged out there, whether he wanted it or not. He would have crossed below the barrier hours ago, losing himself in the trees and rock, but he was no longer wearing goggles or mask, his face exposed to the wind…and in Ruth’s imagination, his dark eyes lifted at the drumbeat of helicopters…