D Carpenter - Infertile Grounds

“At first I figured this was all just an idealistic project. Camilla can be very intense and focused when she wants to be and, besides, I assumed the premise was impossible. Creating a virus to control the population? Come on, it sounds unbelievable and, frankly, I figured Sarah was taking their money in some kind of long play scam. But the past few years, as it has become apparent that it could actually happen, that they could succeed, I’ve been trying to convince Camilla to drop this. To get out before it was too late but I couldn’t get through to her. She was committed, more than ever, and there was no way I was going to change her mind. So, instead, I’ve made it my job to protect her from whatever the consequences of this terrible plan are. Right now, I’m getting a very bad feeling about all of this and all the outcomes I can envision involve lawyers, jail or worse.”

“Tell me about it,” Chris said. “I’m so done with this whole thing. I want out of it all. Look at me. I’ve been beaten, shot, tortured, drugged. Jesus, I’m lucky to be alive! I was just fishing and now I’m here with you and all this.” He held up his bandaged arm and pointed to the wound on his head.

Albert swiped his hand across his bald scalp. “Whatever happens, I can’t let Camilla suffer the consequences. I have to protect her.”

“Look, Albert, I’m still woozy from those drugs and my brain isn’t firing on all cylinders. Just come out with it. Say what you are trying to say.”

“I’m saying we’ve got to stop this madness but not at the expense of Camilla’s freedom.”

“So just let her go?” Chris asked. “Without her, none of this would be happening. She’s as responsible as Sarah Burns.”

“No she’s not.”

“She is. Whether or not you want to admit it is a different thing. She financed them. No financing, no virus and no virus and none of us are here, David Rose is alive and I’m still fishing at my camp. Do you see it?”

“She’s a victim. She got caught—”

“Give me a break. I’m a victim, not her.”

Albert glared at Chris silently, there’s nothing like facts to kill a ridiculous argument. Chris continued, “She’s, at the least, complicit but you and I know she’s much more than that.”

“I don’t know that and it wasn’t like that.”

“Stop it! You don’t want to hear it but that doesn’t erase her role.”

“She’s naïve. Idealistic. She thinks they’re doing the right thing!”

“So she’s just someone with a cause?”

“More or less.”

“Give me a break, Albert. They’re playing God and you know it. Parse and massage it any way you want but you know the truth. You know that her and Sarah and the whole lot of them are knee deep in this fiasco that has the potential to change the course of the world forever! Don’t you get that? Forever. And who knows how this virus or its results will evolve over time. I’m no genius but I suspect it’s a fair bet that the outcome is highly unpredictable. What will this mean to the world? The consequences, intended and unintended, are beyond me but there is no doubt, none whatsoever, that this thing could morph into something that nobody could predict.”

“I won’t have her go to jail.”

“Then what do you want from me? What’s with your little ‘You are not alone’ note? Spit it out already.”

Albert pulled over a chair and sat down. “You know that Seth is going to kill you?”

“I suspected that.”

“He’ll do it.”

“I know.”

“Tomorrow, probably mid-afternoon. After he comes back from getting the Carriers onto their planes. He’ll use a gun and I would suspect you won’t even see it coming.”

Chris stared silently at the odd man. Speechless. Hearing a detailed agenda for the day of his assassination was not something he had expected to endure and certainly not something he had a response to because being told not only that you were going to die but when, by who and how was short-circuiting his thought processes.

Albert let Chris consider this for a few moments before saying, “We can help each other.” Then he reached into his pocket and produced a mobile phone.

“We can’t allow this to happen, Chris,” he said as he handed Chris the mobile phone. “We have to stop it. I think I can convince Camilla and Mike to leave with me tomorrow morning. They were here for moral support for Sarah and to provide on the ground information back to Philip Spencer but with everything that has been going on, I think they need to get out of here and I’m sure I can convince them to do it.”

“So what, they get out of here and?” Chris said shrugging his shoulders.

“And, we get you out that window, you run like hell and make contact with the FBI. They have to stop the Carriers before they get on their planes. They’ll be at the airport just before noon in a white Suburban. Six people plus Seth driving. They have to be stopped.”

“What about Sarah and the others?”

“Once they get the Carriers, they come back here and round up the rest of them. We’ll be long gone.”

Chris shook his head, “I don’t like it.”

“Why?”

“Because I just want to get the fuck out of here. I can’t take it anymore. It’s not my responsibility.”

“You’re wrong. This is absolutely your responsibility. Do you want to live in the world they want to create? How will you be able to look at yourself in the mirror when you know that you could have stopped it.”

“Why’s it all on me? Why don’t you go get the Feds?”

“Because I need to get Camilla out of here.”

“I don’t give a flying fuck about Camilla, Albert. She is not my worry.”

“But she’s mine and I’m not budging. If you want out of here, you have to play it my way.”

“Then I’ll just tell the feds that she was involved and they’ll come after her.”

“So be it, that’s better than her being caught up in it here.”

“That’s what I’ll do.”

“Suit yourself but her and Philip Spencer are very powerful people. I wouldn’t underestimate their resources and resourcefulness but that is all up to you. I just want her out of this situation immediately.”

Chris stared at the phone for a long minute, turning it over in his hands, feeling like he was making a deal with the devil.

“What do you say?” Albert said as he produced a screwdriver. “You can be out of here in five minutes.”

“Is Carl Moscovitz available?”

“Who’s calling?”

“Chris Foster.”

Chris could hear him mumble something to another person, and then he said, “Let me put you on hold and see if I can get him.”

“Sure,” Chris replied as he waited for Carl Moscovitz to pick up. Why would someone be answering the phones at this hour? Why was Carl there? Chris was shivering. The air in the dark woods was cold and moist and he had been running, trying desperately to get a mobile signal but now as he was standing still the sweat on his body was turning cold and clammy.

He was getting an ominous feeling when a voice he didn’t recognize said, “Arthur Kent.”

“Arthur Kent,” Chris echoed. The name sounded familiar, but he couldn’t place it. He was certain that Pell had mentioned it before. “I was looking for Carl.”

“He’s not here right now, Chris.”

“Really? Who are you?”

“Director of Criminal Investigations.”

“Director of Criminal Investigations? You’re a pretty important guy to be up at four in the morning talking to strangers.”

When Arthur didn’t respond, Chris continued, “Do you know why I’m calling?”

“I know who you are,” Arthur replied. “And what you’ve been through this past week.”