Darrell Bain - The Melanin Apocalypse

“Doug… thank you. I have to make this quick, because I’ve been holding off taking a shot and I’m going to have surgery soon; I’ve got some internal injuries, they said.” She breathed heavily through a miasma of pain, then found the strength to continue. “I found out just before the attack. Johannsen says… Doug, he says the funding and technical data came from us. It was just funneled through the supremacists… Oh God, I didn’t want to believe it, but he swears it’s… it’s true.”

“You mean to tell me the CDC gave him a start on the virus?” He simply couldn’t believe that.

“No, no… it didn’t come from here. It was a private lab, funded by the CIA, he thinks. He… he says Edgar Tomlin was in on it… when he was Director… oh, Doug, please find out if this is true. Please. We have to know.”

Everything Amelia said was filtered through the distortion of pain from her injuries, but he understood almost every word. It made him feel sick inside just thinking that their own government might have been responsible for the catastrophic result of Johannsen’s actions. He stood, stunned, unable to even speak until someone tapped him on the shoulder. He turned around to see a tired looking young woman in surgical scrubs. Nearby was an operating room gurney.

“We’re ready for her. I’m going to give her the pre-op now.”

Doug came back to reality. “Just one more minute. “Amelia, has he said anything about a cure or a vaccine?”

“No cure. Jenkins thinks the… the data he got from him may… may make a vaccine. And there’s something else he… I can’t think now. I hurt inside.”

“Amelia, I’ll have this tracked to the source, be sure of that. Now you get well.” He squeezed her hand and made way for the medical people. He watched as Amelia was administered a shot by the nurse in scrubs, then transferred to the gurney and wheeled away. A moment later he headed toward the basement where he knew Savak Johannsen was being guarded. If he had time after that, then he would talk to Stephen Jenkins, a scientist June had told him about earlier who was doing research on a vaccine for the Harcourt virus. Every bit of information he could gather might be useful in freeing the hostages.

The thought of hostages brought images of June back into the forefront of his mind. He tried not to think about what Fridge might have found out.

The last thing Doug did before leaving Amelia was to give his personal phone number to Amelia’s nurse and ask her to have Amelia call him just as soon as she recovered from the surgery and was able to talk.

He impressed on her the importance of his message by telling her it might mean the difference between freeing the hostages or not.

“One of your thugs took her off,” a woman Fridge was questioning said bitterly.

“What! Where did he take her? Quick, woman!”

“So you can get in on the action, goddamn you! This is a… a place of science, not a… find her yourself.

I won’t tell you.” She bowed her head, expecting to be hit or slapped.

Fridge didn’t give a damn what she thought right at the moment. Instead of slapping her, he reached out one huge hand and gathered the lapels of her blouse and yanked her toward him. “You fool, I’m trying to save her, not hurt her! Now where is she?”

“Who are… I don’t know who you are. No.”

Fridge tightened his grip and put her face inches away from his. His eyes burned with urgency. “Listen to me. I know Doug. He sent me to find her. Now where is she?”

It was the use of Doug’s first name that convinced her. She searched his face, saw that it showed only a highly impatient concern, not a desire to join his fellow in whatever brutalities were taking place. She pointed toward a door. “In there.”

Even if she had not shown him the way, Fridge would have found it a second later when a shrill frightened scream rent the air, petrifying in its intensity. Fridge pushed the woman away from him and ran toward the sound, drawing his pistol as he went. The door was locked. He backed off and kicked hard once, twice, and the lock peeled away from its rended frame. The door burst open.

June had just managed to jerk loose from the man assaulting her and was running toward the door where he leaned his rifle. The edge of the door slapped her in the head as it flew open, knocking her down.

When she saw the huge black man shove the door closed behind him, she began crying. Not two of them , she thought hysterically. Then she saw the gun he was holding. They’re going to kill me when they’re finished. Oh, Doug. We were so happy . She bowed her head, shedding bitter tears as she waited for them to finish stripping her. She was already bare to the waist. Her breasts had bright streaks fingernail scratches marring their surface.

“You want some too, Fridge? Hold her for me first. I give her a piece of black meat, maybe she stop fighting.” The guard’s laugh halted abruptly as the flat of Fridge’s calloused palm struck the side of his face with brutal force. He staggered backward and bounced off a wall. His eyes grew wide as Fridge advanced on him.

Fridge’s mind was harkening back to memories of how nice Doris Craddock had always been, how supportive of her husband’s concern for the troops. “Get your black ass out of here, Teacup. Any man have a need to rape a woman got something wrong in his head. No, wait. You tell the men The Fridge got this one marked for his own. Anybody diss her, they in a world of hurt. You hear?”

June’s assailant nodded, knowing Fridge never made idle threats. Before he let the man leave, Fridge removed the clip from his rifle and ejected the cartridge in the chamber. “You get your ass out there and pass the word. I done had enough of this shit. It’s one thing to fight a man when you think you got a reason. Raping helpless women not going to help anybody. Now git!”

Fridge didn’t worry when he turned his back on the man. He had seen the fear on his face. He looked around, spotted June’s bra and blouse. He picked them up. “Here, Mrs. Craddock. Get yourself covered and go back outside. Anybody bother you again, tell them the Fridge got you covered.” He tried to smile at her but it was a caricature.

June looked at him, dubious of his sincerity, but willing to go along. At the very least, he had saved her from being raped and most likely beaten. She turned her back and started to put on the bra, then saw that it had been wrenched from her body with enough force to bend the hooks before tearing them out of the fabric. She dropped it to the floor and pulled on the blouse. She had to hold it together for now and hope she could find a safety pin or two outside. She turned to face the big man who had saved her.

“Thank you, whoever you are. What… how…?”

“Never mind for now. Me and Doug go back a long time. He asked me to look for you.” Finally Fridge did smile, but it was a very small one. “Looks like I found you just in time. Go on out with the others now. I’ll follow you.”

Suddenly the import of his words hit June like a blow. “Doug! He’s alive!”

“He’s alive,” Fridge confirmed, urging her gently back through the doorway and out into the lobby.

June returned to the captives with a freshened heart, despite the path taken to get there. Doug was alive!

Doug wanted to see Johannsen alone. He made his way to the Science Building, limping painfully from his leg wound. The basement was a cavern, divided off into storage rooms, pallets of supplies, vaults and bare machinery that kept the building functioning. Doug had been there only once or twice doing security checks, but he knew the general layout. He waited a few moments on the service elevator but for some reason it seemed to be stuck at the basement level. Maybe the power outages had damaged some of the circuitry, he thought. Impatient, he took the stairs and hurried down them. He didn’t trust Qualluf Taylor to wait on him too long.