Jacqueline Druga - Fallout

He did wonder what the reasoning was that he had to put down he was an architect, considering his first two days he was scrubbing toilets.

A twinge of guilt struck him when he sat down with his lunch. His food was fitting and smelled good. It was some sort of beef with lots of vegetables and rice.

He was eating well, while others were not. When he was just about finished, a small laptop computer was placed in front of him, then a man in a button-down shirt sat across. He was one of the Chinese project supervisors. Those not military but had come over to aid in running things.

“Mr. Calhoun,” he said in English but with a dialect.

“Yes.”

“I have received word that news of your exchange to your homeland will arrive sooner than we believed.”

“That’s great news, thank you,” Cal said.

“In the meantime, this job of cleaning is temporary, but we have heard you are very brave.”

“Me? Brave? I don’t think so.”

“You wandered the roads, faced radiation and scavengers all to try to make it to us and make it home. One of my soldiers has told me.”

Cal wondered what soldier it was. One of the official soldiers or the Chinese American posing as one.

“Thank you,” Cal said.

“We have a job that we need a man of your intellect and bravery.”

It sounded big and important. Something that Troy would probably have screamed at him to accept.

“We have been lax and are far behind.” He pushed the laptop to Cal. “We need to register every single refugee and prisoner in this camp.” He flipped open the laptop. “The program is already available. You need to merely start logging them in. Can we ask that of you?”

Cal eyed the software, it looked easy enough. “Can I ask why you won’t send one of your men to do this?”

“Because they need to go into the secure perimeter of the prison and refugee camp.”

“Ah, they would have to be locked in,” Cal said.

“It is safer for you than them.”

What choice did Cal have? He agreed and after he was done with his lunch, he was taken by jeep the one mile to the Nobel correction facility where he was escorted into the fenced-in yard.

The guards carried a table and chair, set it up by the gate, then left.

Cal had previously been given instructions to interview as many as he could until the bell rung.

Once his table was set, no one bothered to look his way.

Cal stood and using a loud voice announced, “I am here like you are. Detained. I am taking names and information and putting it in a database so your families can find you. I know you don’t want to but I ask that you do this. Or how else will anyone know what has become of you?”

“Are they really gonna let our families know?” someone shouted.

Cal shrugged. “No. Your families would have to seek you out. They have set up refugee search centers two hours every day in certain towns. They can check the database but if you aren’t in it, they won’t know.” He waited for another question but one never came, and Cal took his seat at the folding table and propped open the laptop.

It didn’t take long for the line to form. Cal glanced up to the first person in line. A young man, thin and frail who looked as if he was in need of medical attention.

“Name?” Cal asked.

“Tobias. Or rather,” he said, “Toby. Toby Garbino.”

Where was she?

“We will find her,” Huang said. “She is in the area.”

General Liu was fuming. He had just received disturbing numbers from his region on those infected with the virus. What he wanted to do was tell on her, call her superior and inform them she was out of control and her master plan was weak and was placing China in danger. She had no superior. Her uncle, the president, was her superior and there was no going to him. At least General Liu was one of the very few who knew that information.

Things had taken a turn in the previous few days, albeit small on scale, Liu could see them building toward something else.

They failed to secure the military leaders. They were out there somewhere. If the situation was reversed and the US invaded China, General Liu would be plotting his defense and resistance and would do so with an upper hand because he knew his own country.

He began his search for Agent Shu as soon as his reports were in. There had to be a mistake, he called the head of the bio defense division of the army, a man Liu had known and served with for years. His information about the weapon used didn’t match up with the numbers he was seeing.

“It depends what the distribution method was and how many places they left it,” his friend said. “This weapon is a supped up version of Hand, Foot and Mouth. It is only deadly if the fever peaks or the sores get infected. It is however, debilitating for the patient. We outlawed that weapon.”

Liu knew it was illegal, against rules of engagement which any good soldier followed.

Shu was not a soldier.

She was a weak-minded, power-hungry woman who wasn’t going to secure victory. In Liu’s mind, she was securing death for millions of people and not just Americans.

Sergeant Huang did not stay back as he always did, he stayed close, telling Liu it was because Shu was surrounded by agents when they found her in the office of the mayor.

“We are doing the best we can,” Fen said to the mayor. “But our hands are tied, and help is limited until we receive full authorization. We won’t get that until the surrender is secured.”

“You’ll never get the surrender,” the mayor said.

“Then your people will die from this horrendous sickness.”

General Liu stepped into her line of vision. Fen peered up. “Leave us,” she said to the mayor. “And you, Sergeant,” she spoke to Huang, “stay in the hallway.”

When the room was cleared she slowly stood, walked over, and closed the door.

“One point seven million,” General Liu said. “One point seven million Americans are on the brink of death from a virus that does not have that high of a fatality rate.”

Calmly, she responded, “We need to help it along.”

“That’s just those dying, the number grows each day.”

Fen shrugged it off and returned to the desk.

“The higher the number the more resistance will build.”

“Just as I thought, you are here to chastise me when you should be doing your job.”

“What job?” Liu asked. “Check on camps. I am concerned about the events here, the ones happening right now and the ones that will happen.”

“The attacks?”

“Yes. Agent Shu, I implore you, as a military man and one who knows war, I implore you to send back the ships we have waiting in the ocean, return them to our homeland.”

“Not with a second wave invasion imminent.”

“We lost seven thousand men at the battle for the nuclear weapons center. Seven thousand with a new weapon we do not know of. In the mountain are military strategists who have access to everything.”

“That mountain will fall.”

“No, it will not. And the camps. The explosion you witnessed was one of fifteen. This is the start. Send our troops home to protect our homeland.”

“You have no right to direct me.”

“And you”—he raised his voice—“have no right commanding troops without experience.”

“You, old man.” She stood and walked to him snidely. “You are confusing defense for rebellion and that is what this is, a simple rebellion. The Americans are spoiled. They are throwing a tantrum. We treat them well, what do they want from us?”

“Their freedom,” General Liu said. “The loss of seven thousand men is not rebellion, it is a sign of a war. One you are not expecting. You do not know what you’re doing and what is coming.”