D Carpenter - Infertile Grounds

“That’ll be enough to get the job done?” Phillip asked.

“Have you ever been to an outdoor event in the winter time with lots of people around you, Phillip?”

He nodded.

“Think back on it. You could see everyone’s breath as they exhaled, and, like it or not, as you inhaled, if you had been paying attention, you would have seen that you were taking in the exhaled moisture and germ-laden breath of someone else. It was diluted but it was undeniably there. Look at the fans at an NFL game in January. Gen96 could get an eighty or ninety-percent infection rate during just one game, solely because of how we share the air.”

“Jesus Christ,” Phillip growled. “It’s scary.”

“Scary’s not the word I’d use. Effective, efficient. Those are more like it,” Sarah said. “We’ll get that type of penetration, and then all of those infected people go home or to work. Some of them will hop on a plane. This will spread quickly.” Pleased, she looked confidently around the room. It was going to happen. Nobody could stop them now.

“Are these Carriers going to know what they’re actually doing? How can they be trusted?” Phillip asked.

“Last spring of we did some prescreening at colleges in Boston under the auspices of looking for interns for a humanitarian initiative that would take place that summer. We identified fifteen solid candidates and Seth took them on a three-month trip. Very much like what you and I did, Camilla. Africa, India, Bangladesh – they hit all the world’s worst examples of what overpopulation causes. They lived with them, walked among them, watched the children starve and families die. Seth said it was the worst twelve weeks of his life but what came out of it were six overpopulation zealots. These kids believe. Over time we’ve revealed exactly what they have volunteered for and they won’t be a problem. They have drunk the proverbial Kool Aid.”

“Brilliant,” Mike said.

“Well, it sounds like this calls for a celebration,” Camilla said and everyone agreed.

“Albert,” Camilla cried. “Bring out the champagne.”

In a few moments, Albert appeared in the room carrying a tray of crystal glasses and a very large champagne bottle. He prepared and distributed the glasses.

“Let me propose a toast,” Camilla said as she raised her glass. “To the beginning of a new era, to the people with the vision to fund it, and to the person who made it happen.”

“Hear, hear.” They clinked their glasses together and drank.

The mood was much lighter now as they started to relax and socialize. Camilla pulled Sarah from the group for a moment, and they walked to the edge of the room.

“When did you say you were going to know about how big a problem we actually have on our hands back in Maine?” Camilla asked.

Sarah looked at her watch – 3:35 West Coast time. “In another hour or so I’ll call Seth and see what’s up.”

Camilla smiled over her shoulder at Mike, putting her acting skills to work.

“Finding this guy doesn’t really matter,” Sarah explained. “We’ve already implemented phase two. This is happening. Worst-case scenario, we’re going to have to get out of Maine a few weeks earlier than we had planned, and that’s what Seth’ll tell me soon.”

Camilla ran her fingers through her curly blond hair, pulling it up off her slender neck as she stared at Sarah. Her eyes twinkled but something darker lurked just beyond the beautiful, fun-loving façade. Her old friend studied her for a moment longer then let her hair down and offered a weak smile.

“We’ll make that call together in an hour, okay? Finding this guy matters very, very much.”

“Whatever you want, Camilla.”

Camilla led her back to the others, and they put on faces for the next hour, which to Sarah seemed like a day.

“Son of a bitch!” Seth exclaimed as they screeched to a stop. “We lost them.” He slammed his fist against the dash.

“We can probably get on their trail again,” Jerry said. “This is a pretty small town.”

“Not that small.” Seth was already rolling over in his mind what Sarah had said when she called earlier. She needed to go back to the sponsors with results in the next few hours. That was why they had bitten the bullet and gone into the FBI building rather than waiting to follow Chris once he left. What was he going to say to Sarah tonight when she called again? It wouldn’t be a pleasant conversation. She had already told the people on the West Coast that it was a go and that this was just a temporary blip that she had in hand. This would put a crimp on any celebration.

“Go to the airport,” Seth said. “We’ve got to get back up north and close down the lab.”

“Okay.” Jerry put the car in drive and squealed the tires as they headed back to their plane. It was a quiet ride.

“What about Mark?” Jerry asked. They had returned the car and were jogging across the tarmac to the plane.

“We’ll tell him to come in. We don’t have time to wait. Christ, how long was Foster with the FBI? What does he know and how much do you think he’s told them?”

Seth shook his head. That was the biggest issue on his hands. They didn’t know if this guy was just worried about a plane coming down or if he knew everything that was going on. David could have explained everything? But then again, he could have died in the crash? How could things have gone so bad, so fast? Right now Seth didn’t know if they had months before anyone figures anything out or minutes.

“We’ve probably got until sometime tomorrow morning before the Feds are knocking on our door,” he said weighing up the situation erring on the cautious side.

“You’re still assuming that David told this guy everything,” Jerry said as they climbed into the plane.

Seth had to forcibly control his hand from punching Jerry in the face. Boy, it would feel great to pound somebody right now. He caught a glimpse of his reflection in the window as he slammed the door shut. The sharply angled features of his nose, cheekbones and chin more pronounced than usual – his closely cropped hair spiked up like a threatened animal’s.

We need to assume the worst, he thought. These guys just don’t seem to get what it would mean if the Feds caught them at this point. What it would mean to the project, to Sarah and to each of them individually if this became public knowledge.

“He knows, Jerry. He knows.”

Airborne and heading north, the setting sun glowing in the western sky, Seth knew that he should try to get some rest as there was little he could do right now. They were in for a long couple of days, but sleep was never an easy thing for him. Sometimes it came quickly and other times it didn’t. One time last year he had gone for over ninety hours without sleep. He had been in the final preparation phase for the Ngami test with Sarah and for almost four straight days his mind was far too active to rest.

At least the first batch of Gen96 was ready and waiting for them to implement phase two.

“Base, this is Seth, over,” Seth said into the radio. No reply. If Wendel or Curtis weren’t in the main building, they would never hear the radio. He repeated his call again and again for the next five minutes until finally Wendel’s voice crackled back at them, “Hi, Seth. What can I do you for?”

He always said the same thing. The guy was a real moron. “Has Sarah called?” Seth asked.

“No, not that I know of. I could go find Curtis…”

“Don’t bother, Wendel. Listen to me. This is very important,” Seth snapped.

“Okay. How’d you guys make out?”

“Not good. We need to go with plan B,” Seth said.

“So you didn’t catch him?” Wendel queried. “I thought that was our main priority? You said you were going to take him out. You saying you didn’t manage to get to him?”