D Carpenter - Infertile Grounds

There had to be a way to stop her. He just had to figure it out.

Arthur and his men had fully transformed the large conference room into their operations center. A TV tuned to WOTN droned on one side of the room. Based on the information from Pell, the Agents were hard at work trying to locate Sarah Burns’ college friend, Camilla Haywood and Chris Foster, who had been missing since landing at LAX early yesterday morning. Why hadn’t anyone heard from him? It seemed very strange and Arthur wondered if perhaps Chris Foster hadn’t become another casualty in this confusing and rapidly unfolding investigation. He paced as he contemplated this particularly disconcerting fact.

“This doesn’t look good,” a thick-necked agent said as he turned up the TV which was tuned to WOTN.

Boston Now, an afternoon talk show was interrupted as the station cut to their news desk. The anchorman fidgeted with his lapel microphone for a minute before saying, “This breaking news is a WOTN exclusive. Our Action News Team has learned that the FBI are currently working an investigation right here in Boston that involves a, for lack of a better word, a cult who have developed a virus designed to sterilize men in order to reduce the population explosion. Sources tell us that the virus is potentially going to be released over the next few days. The FBI and the CIA have both refused to comment as has the World Health Organization. Our reporter, Josh King is in Washington at the offices of the WHO to tell us more. Josh what can you tell us and have you been able to speak to anyone at the World Health Organization at this point?” The camera cut to a young, eager looking reporter standing outside a non-descript office building somewhere in the nation’s capital.

“Where is Irving?” Arthur said. “How come they’re still on the air?”

They all stared silently at the screen.

“Shut that station down now!” Arthur screamed to the nearest agent. “I don’t care what you have to do, but get them off the air.”

The agent pointed to two other men, and the three of them started to run from the room. Before they made it to the door, the TV signal flickered, went to static, came back clearly for a moment and then went back to static for good.

“It’s about fucking time,” Arthur said. “Why were they able to broadcast anything? They were supposed to be shut down.”

None of the men responded as Arthur turned from the television and back to the table. “Okay people. We’ve got a lot of ground to cover and not much time. I want ideas. Let’s hear them.”

The next few hours passed quickly as they officially launched the investigation – informing and coordinating agents across the country. If any good had come from 9/11 it was the vastly improved inter and intra agency communications. Within the span of three hours they would have just over seven hundred law enforcement officers from four federal agencies actively involved with the case. Arthur thought things were progressing nicely.

Sarah watched as Albert pulled the Politically Correct Express to a stop in front of the house. She and Seth stood next to the now empty tractor-trailer, talking. Sweat soaked their shirts and they were tired after unloading all the equipment. A long, hot shower was going to feel great.

Albert and his six passengers got out. He had rounded them up at the airport, four women and two men – two whites, two Asians, a black and a Latino. They looked like the adult cast of Zoom. Even though in this day and age people generally moved freely around the globe, they had decided it would be better to have Carriers who would be essentially invisible. They should just blend into the background. To that end, Seth had planned each one of their missions based on their ethnicity.

“Good to see you all again,” Seth said as he walked over to the small group and shook hands. “I hope you had pleasant flights.”

Two of them grumbled something about delays, but that was irrelevant. All that mattered was that they were all here now.

“This is Sarah Burns,” Seth said as he turned to Sarah, who walked over and shook their hands.

All of them were from liberal academic enclaves, Wellesley, BU, Harvard, and they were wide-eyed and idealistic. That idealism had been a critical factor in their ultimate selection. During the three month world tour Seth had spent lots of individual time with each of them – gotten to know them very well and had told Sarah he was convinced that these six were the perfect recruits. That they were paying each of them five hundred thousand tax-free dollars certainly helped but fervent belief was an absolute requirement. Money couldn’t buy loyalty and they weren’t taking any chances – the importance of silence could not be emphasized enough.

Sarah was still amazed at how easily Seth had managed to get fanatical devotion from them. No wonder the military loved young, smart people – properly indoctrinate them and you got a no-questions-asked group. According to the FBI, the average age of a suicide bomber was twenty one and this group standing in front of her proved out the demographics of fanaticism.

The first stars flickered to life in the rapidly darkening sky as Sarah said, “Everything’s ready. The test was an overwhelming success and we’re just waiting for you. You should all be very proud of what you’re about do. This is a defining moment in the history of mankind.”

The Carriers looked at her as if in a trance – servants awaiting their commands. Several exhibited different nervous ticks – a jittery leg, hyper-blinking and one who continuously rubbed his hands together and for the first time Sarah wondered if maybe going young was a mistake. They were idealists – dedicated, loyal but they were still kids with limited life experience.

“I’m the only one who knows your names, and they’re safe with me,” Seth said as he stepped forward and handed each of them a small blue bankbook. “I’ve created numbered Swiss accounts for each of you.”

Several of the Carriers squealed with excitement as they opened up the official booklets that confirmed the deposit of the promised money. A half million dollars was something to squeal about.

Seth let them enjoy the moment briefly before saying, “We want to start the process tonight. You’ll be leaving tomorrow. I’ll give you a full briefing later.”

Sarah knew each of their life stories. Two of them were from rich families – both with fortunes in excess of four hundred million dollars. The other four were from poor to very poor families – both sides of the spectrum. The rich could afford their idealism and the poor had seen the cycle of poverty and hopelessness that unwanted children caused first-hand. Some of them were those children. These kids were each motivated for their own personal reasons.

“Do you have any questions?”

They stood silently. Their mission was simple – a chance to help humanity, see the world, and make some easy cash – any college student’s dream.

“All right then,” Seth said. “Follow Sarah. She’ll show you to your rooms.”

Sarah led the way and the Carriers followed. Things finally appeared to be moving smoothly again.

Chris’ arm throbbed constantly now. If he kept it pressed against his side, the knee-shaking spikes of pain diminished but he felt feverish and light headed – getting sicker by the hour. A foul odor seeped from the soiled bandage. He paced the room. Being cooped up like this was making him crazy. He needed to make something happen and in order to do that he had to get out of this room. And, he needed medical attention, badly.