Army of the Goddess: A Bona Dea Novel (Stormflies Book 2) (4 page)

Sunsday, 17
^th
Unimont

3 Farmstead Road

North Compass, NL

Quinn,

I am writing to alert you that your brother Holton has gone missing. He was traveling north by bus from Range End to home and hasn't made it. He has the seeds I sent him for. Please send word if you've gotten wind of him in the last several days.

Sincerely,

Your Mother, Rosemary

+++

17
^th
Unimont

14 Red Ridge Road

Red Ridge, NL

Quinn,

I hope that you will heed my letter. Holton has never come home from his quarterly trip south to trade seed. We saw in the newssheets that a bus load of travelers went missing, and we think he was on that bus. Do you know anything? I know your mother wrote as well, and I know you won't write her back. I thought maybe you would write to me to let me know if there is a report or information on what's going on. Please, Quinn. If something has happened to Holton, I need to know. The children need to know.

Sincerely,

Canna

+++

Tinsday, 19
^th
Unimont

300 People's Hall

Undun City, EL

Dear Canna,

I apologize. I was unaware that Holton was traveling south so recently. There is no list of those traveling by bus—the bus register is missing with the vehicle—but the Safety Watch is notified of inquiries into missing persons and a list is being formulated.

I hope that Holton is merely delayed somewhere and has neglected to send you a message. He has always been forgetful.

I will let you know if I hear of him.

Sincerely,

Quinn

+++

19
^th
Uni

4 Farmstead Road

North Compass, NL

Q,

Mother is planning to make the trip to Undun in the next few weeks to look for Holton. At that time, we hope you will offer us hospitality and the opportunity to meet your betrothed.

I hope that you will take a few minutes after reading this letter to consider your mother's feelings. Since you have chosen to ignore all family protocols in this matter, you have brought a great deal of embarrassment and shame to our family for having to explain the articles showing up daily in all the newssheets. I am ashamed of your behavior.

I will advise further the date and time to expect us.

Your brother,

Isaac

+++

Hopesday, 20
^th
Unimont

300 People's Hall

Undun city, EL

Isaac,

Be advised that a travel ban is going into effect in a few days due to the increased number of disappearances.

STAY HOME!

Q

+++

It was a lie, but he needed to do something. The last thing Quinn wanted right now was for his family to show up at his door and make waves. His wife, bless her soul, would try to be civil and welcoming, and she would probably attempt to reconcile the differences between him, his siblings, and his mother. Axandra wanted people to be kind to each other and understanding, and it was a flaw in her nature to believe that all members of society were capable to doing just that. In a few years' time, her accumulated experiences as the Protectress would teach her that such beliefs were misplaced.

Until then, he was going to try to avoid his family. He did not want to see them. He did not want to communicate with them. He wanted to live at peace with his wife and not worry about them. He pushed at the pile of letters with his fingers, wondering how many more he would see in the coming days. He had five more siblings and their spouses who might take the opportunity to offer their input.

Unfortunately, Holton's disappearance frayed the very edges of his nerves. As much as Quinn disliked his family, he did not wish them harm. He only wished for distance. He would have to have a chat with Commander Narone to alert the Elite to keep their eyes open for a man who looked a lot like the Protectress' fiancé. Hopefully, Holton had simply gotten sidetracked on his way home. Knowing his brother's penchant for punctuality, this was a very slim hope.

He thought of one option, one person that might have some idea of Holton's whereabouts. He wasn't supposed to know about Jenny. Unfortunately for Holton, Quinn's facial similarities led the woman to mistake him in the Range End market one day last summer. She had sneaked up behind him and began laying sensuously groping hands across his chest from behind. When he spun to confront the perpetrator of the molestations, he found himself face-to-face with a handsome woman in her forties with an up-do of big curls and provocatively arranged overalls.

“You're not Holton!” she exclaimed with sudden realization.

“No, but he is my brother,” Quinn explained. “Who are you?”

Jenny laughed off the embarrassing encounter, never allowing her chagrin to be seen; and over two pints, she explained that Holton enjoyed her company when he came south. She assured Quinn that the relationship was purely platonic, at the moment, and Holton was too strong-willed to break his vows with his wife.

Holton's trip to Range End undoubtedly included Jenny's loving ministrations. She would never let him visit the village without a proper visit.

+++

Hopesday, 20
^th
Unimont

300 People's Hall

Undun city, EL

Dear Jenny,

I'm sure you'll be surprised to hear from me. I wouldn't bother you at all except that I'm on a search for my brother Holton. I understand he was recently a visitor to Range End, picking up seed samples for our mother and for the farm.

If you would be so kind as to reply if you have seen him and the date and time of that last sighting, I'd appreciate a letter.

I hope that you are well and that your Landing Day celebration was remarkable.

Thank you.

Sincerely,

Quinn Elgar

+++

Unimont 22nd

55 Lawrence Road

Range End, SL

Quinn,

I must say it was a pleasant surprise to hear from you! You're just as darling as your brother, and I miss your sweet face. I do hope you'll be coming back to Range End sometime soon so I can mistake you for someone else again. Oh, I know you are about to get married and to the Protectress, no less! I wish you many blessings for your future together. I'd like to meet her one day. She looks absolutely charming.

As for Holton, the last time I saw him here in town was on the 12
^th
of this month. He hopped the morning bus out of town headed home. I tried to convince him to stay, but he wouldn't have it. He's too solid a husband and just won't budge.

Sorry I couldn't be of more help. Don't wait so long to write me again.

All my love,

Jenny

20
^th
Unimont (Hopesday)

“Two more patients, Healer Adese,” announced Paulie from the workroom door. “From Turtle Rock. One reportedly collapsed while cooking in the community kitchen. The other never reported in for maintenance duty, so they stopped by his house and found him emaciated and unresponsive. Yesterday, he was perfectly healthy and at full weight.”

“Are you certain?” Adese snatched the paperwork from Paulie's hand. The patient happened to have a checkup with his local Healer just two days ago. Vital statistics, before and after. Approximately eighty kilos two days and now fifty-nine kilos. An impossible drop under normal circumstances. She pinched her lips in a severe grimace marked with cavernous age lines while studying the notes from the small community Healers who sent these patients to Bexan for further study and treatment—not that the Healers in Bexan were having any luck with the parasites. The human patients died; and, almost as soon as the Healers captured the creatures, the damned things managed to escape. They couldn't find anything that would hold the energetic parasites completely. While the creatures could not pass through solid objects such as glass, stone, or wood, the psychic powers still leaked out and still affected nearby personnel. As much as staff could, they trapped the creatures in glass jars and vaulted them in the catacombs at the edge of the city. It was the best they could do.

It seemed so elementary that the creatures could not pass through solid objects any more than a human could, hence entry of the parasite through the eye socket and the vitreous fluid of the eye. They weren't magical, just powerful and clever. The Stormflies always seemed to be ten steps ahead.

“Yes, Ma'am. Acute dehydration and malnutrition overnight,” Paulie confirmed.

“But that doesn't tell us when he was infected, merely that the Stormfly has finished with him,” Adese complained. One finger followed along with the words her eyes pored over. She'd looked at so many sheets, focus became exceeding difficult. The examining Healer noted no anomalies in the man's health. “But he's still clinging to life, which means the Stormfly is still inside, trapped until he gives up. Let's see how long we can keep him alive.”

“Ma'am—”

“I hate to cause a man to suffer, but we have to try something new,” she justified, hoping to ease the young man's misgivings. It was unorthodox to prolong the life of anyone in the advanced stages of the dying process. The quality of life was more important than sheer longevity. For several days, she had weighed the pros and cons of such a treatment. She'd been given great latitude to come up with a creative solution, because the Healers' Assembly was desperate to put an end to the loss of life.

Paulie's tan skin blanched to the color of sun-bleached bone. “Yes, Ma'am.” She sensed the weight of his guilt pushed at her, pressing into her sternum like a brick. Setting up a temporary barrier to his emanations, Adese started down her mental checklist of instructions.

“Set up complete life support for Mr. Schuman in isolation room 218. Round the clock observation. Premium pain inhibitors at 15 ccs per hour, enough to induce coma. Rehydration and glucose substitute.”

“That's going to feed nutrition right into the parasite,” Paulie said even as he transcribed the orders. “Won't we just be making it stronger?”

While Adese usually appreciated Paulie's propensity to question methods and ideas, at the moment she found it considerably annoying. She'd already given the unorthodox idea due consideration. “I believe if we induce coma, we'll be keeping it trapped. These creatures might have the same susceptibility to consciousness. Have resuscitation protocols on ready. We will resuscitate him as long as his body will allow.”

“Healer Controy won't approve.”

“I'll deal with that later.”

“Anything else, Ma'am?”

“Let me know if our new patient has any visitors.”

Paulie escaped the workroom and left Adese in the quiet of her own thoughts.

Adese kept the profiles in hand for study, along with the mounting collection of paper. Medical and personal information to wade through, catalog and analyze, looking for the common thread of the hundreds of victims over the last few months. Her growing matrix included a variety of variables including marital status, age, psychic level, religion, location, and a dozen others. It included the name and condition of every known victim of the Stormflies, all the way back to the first man infected prior to the new Protectress' installation ceremony. The man from Cutoff was a very average citizen: unmarried, a touch empath of medium level, a Celestiest by religion, like most residents of his area. Celestiests believed that God is manifested by the collective energies of solar systems; in effect, solar systems are living organisms.

He was the only non-Believer listed until just recently. The entire epidemic centered on the Believer sects from Northland and Eastland, until the Great Storm dissipated and the Stormflies spread out across the continent. It was believed that this centralized infestation took placed among the Believers because of their refusal to allow outsiders to interact with their minds, keeping the Stormflies hidden from detection by Healers. The religion's firm belief in the Goddess fooled the followers into believing they were experiencing direct contact with the object of their utmost desire, and they were in utter denial even as the creatures killed them. All of the infected Believers were now deceased, and the survivors struggled with whether to praise their ascension to heaven or to curse the Goddess for her betrayal.

The most recent additions to the roster spread across the religious opportunities: atheist, pagan, Believer, Celestiest, humanist… With this common factor no longer relevant, Adese sought a new string. She didn't expect to find one. The Stormflies appeared to be indiscriminate in their choice of victims. Not age, not sex, nor color of the eyes had any bearing. These nasty critters had humans for the taking, and she was no closer to solving the mystery of how to stop them.

Antimicrobials proved worthless against the creatures. Their metabolic systems were like nothing observed by humankind. No other creature on Bona Dea possessed any similar traits, so they had nothing upon which to base a comparison. She hoped that experimenting with comas would reveal even the most primitive defense. Even if she couldn't help the current victim survive, she'd have a hand in sparing thousands of others.

At the rate of infection, the human race living on Bona Dea would have a limited number of days to act.

Adese unclenched her jawbone and rubbed at the soreness of the tension with cold fingers, staring at the characters on the paper. The ink marks went out of focus and began to blend together into meaningless blobs of dark matter. Tossing down the sheets, she walked out of the workroom to take a break.

+++

Healer Philip Controy fought a bought of instant vertigo when he saw the state of the storage cellar. He hoped no one noticed the side effect of his sudden panic.

“This is how we found it, sir,” reported the Safety Watch leader meeting him at the metal door to the cellar. Normally, root vegetables and seed stock were kept in this isolated vault on the outer edge of town for overwintering. With nowhere else to safely detain their parasite captives, the cellar had been converted into an odd holding cell, and all of the shelves were lined with glass jars holding detached parasites.

Only now the jars were broken, with thousands of shards scattered upon the floor and not a single glowing Stormfly bug in sight.

Someone, a human someone, broke into the locked cell and freed them all.

“You've got to be kidding me. We're right back where we started from. Who was on duty? I want to see whoever was supposed to be standing outside these doors!” Controy bellowed fiercely, his ire rising in his throat and nullifying any sense that he was about to pass out.

“It was Colin Myers and Grayson Venderman,” the leader explained, “and both of them are missing as well. We can only presume they were the ones who opened the vault and released the detainees. We'd like to assume they did so because of being infected by other Stormflies, but we can't know that until we find them.”

“We specifically designated the sphere of influence,” Controy barked, referring to the carefully painted line outside the vault, about mid-ramp, that indicated the known distance the caged Stormflies could reach with their remote psychic abilities. Staying beyond the line protected the watch guards from undue influence by those they jailed.

“Yes, and they were properly informed about where to patrol.” The man in Safety Watch blue ground his teeth loudly out of annoyance. “But that doesn't prevent a free-flying Stormfly from making contact. We're attempting to deal with something well outside our experience, Healer. We're doing the best we can. If they were infected while they stood on guard here, no one would ever know about it until it was too late. It would take them a matter of minutes, from what we know, and the shift changes every three to four hours.”

“Dammit!” Controy finally cursed so loudly a flock of birds in a nearby tree sprung away in a panic-stricken flight to escape. “We're right back where we started from. NOWHERE!”

“I think we're even worse off than that at this point,” the uniformed man remarked snidely.

Controy eyed the man with a venomous stare.

“Those two personnel know an awful lot about the work that's going on here,” the man continued. “And now, so do the Stormflies.”

+++

Two hundred workers came together to build this facility as quickly as possible. Jon was adept in mixing the sealant and mortar to stack the bricks and stones. With a group of ten, he ran the mixing “brigade” and oversaw the recipe of each batch. He was lucky in his original volunteer years to have worked on several building and repair crews, and he found he had an eye for the best mix of fixants that would last the longest. On Gammerton Island, there wasn't much new construction, but he volunteered for repairs when they came up.

Kyle and his boys made up part of the team, depositing shovelfuls of sand, silt, and cement mix into the rotating mixers. They sang as they mixed and laughed as the traditional working songs took humorous twists and turns. Playfulness kept the work from being mere drudgery.

At the end of the day, Kyle and Jon stayed as the others headed for baths and dinners, cleaning and dismantling a mixer that had broken down midday, leaving them short of cement for the day's quota of layers. If they couldn't set it running, they'd have to track down another, taking the dray over to the storage barn to check out additional equipment.

Washed down with clean water, the machine still bore signs of wear and permanently affixed fragments of previous building jobs. With a screwdriver and a spanner, Kyle opened up the motor compartment and peered inside. A brush removed bits of dust from the gears, but those bits weren't the reason for the breakdown.

“Look here,” said Kyle. With his index finger, he indicated a collection of copper coil. “Frayed. It must be losing connection to the battery, so the solar cell isn't efficient enough to keep it running.”

“Yeah. We can't fix that here,” Jon said with frustration. He'd hoped for a quick fix and be off to dinner himself. “Let's load it up and head to the shed. Hopefully there will be another on hand.”

Replacing the cover, Kyle unlocked the wheels while Jon pulled down the bed ramp. Together, they shoved the machine up onto the truck bed. The suns were hitting the horizon by now, with the smaller ball of gas disappearing first, dimming the lavender magnitude of the sky to a tender violet.

The colors of evening had always felt soothing to Jon, especially after a long day of laboring. He paused a moment to look west to the forest that gobbled up the suns. Two bright points of light emerged from the deepening darkness. Planets, but Jon didn't know which ones. It would be another forty-five minutes before complete darkness fell.

With the machine secured in place, they climbed into the cab and started the engine with Kyle behind the wheel. He was more familiar with the layout of Bexan and would make a quick crossing to the storage barn on the northern boundary. The fenced-in area contained a wide array of equipment and vehicles for various projects, each maintained by the Equipment Coordinator staff.

Despite the hour, three persons were on duty at the depot, accepting returns and repair work orders. They were winding down through, finishing off their ledgers.

“What can we do for you, gentlemen?” asked the front clerk. “We're just about to close up.”

“Sorry to keep you, Mr.…,” Kyle apologized courteously, prompting for a name.

“I'm Colin,” the clerk responded.

“Colin, our cement mixer has gone on the fritz. We'd like to make an exchange so we have it first thing tomorrow. We've already lost momentum.”

“On the comm manufacturing site? That's quite the project. Let's take a look.” He followed them out to the dray.

“We took a peek inside. The coil is frayed, so there must be a short.”

“I see it. Let's get this one down. There we go. Come on back. We'll find another.” Colin led them back into the metal shed. “We should have at least two more in working order.”

Rolling the contraption along the ground, Kyle and Jon followed the unnamed clerk into the bowels of the large warehouse. Tall metal units of grated shelves held a variety of smaller machines and appliances, from kitchen mixers to cement mixers, anything and everything that might be needed for a job around the large town.

Jon felt uneasy and remained quiet while Kyle made the transaction. He didn't often get a clench his gut that made him feel like he needed to leave a place. Danger existed here—something hidden and barely registering as an interruption in his emanations. He found himself easing several steps back once they stopped pushed the mixer. His eyes darted about the claustrophobic passages. Logic attempted to override the primal sensation by convincing him that there was absolutely no reason to be afraid of these people or this place. But he couldn't shake it.