Russian Federation base, Port of Murmansk, present day.
Evie watched the soldiers on the perimeter of the heavily guarded entrance to the port. The banter, from one army to the next, seemed a global military trait as they checked and searched incoming vehicles and government staff. A Jeep, followed by a lumbering army truck, was the next to attempt access. The lead soldier approached the driver’s window of the Jeep, peered inside, and barked a series of orders to the other guards, which sent them into a frenzy. Curious to know what was going on, Evie changed her position to get a better view.
The tailgate of the truck clattered open, spilling out a number of white-suited bio-technicians, one of whom was covered in blood. Only when an injured soldier stumbled from the rear of the vehicle, aided heavily by concerned guards, did Evie comprehend. They must have been the scouting party looking for the missing stowaways, she thought.
Evie rushed to help the injured man. The guards turned upon her as she approached, their weapons raised, to prevent her from getting too close.
“What are you doing out here?” A voice from behind her made her jump.
“Oh, Gladstone. You scared me half to death. What are you doing sneaking up on people like that?” Evie gasped.
“We need to talk. Privately.”
Shaken, Evie returned to her lab, confused by the actions of the soldiers.
Why would they not let a doctor help an injured soldier
? Her mind raced.
The tests on the samples confirmed the presence of the Saliva Activated Live Blood strain, though not the original. From what Evie could ascertain, this was some kind of mutated version of the original virus. Gladstone looked his usual calm, collected, dangerous self as he positioned himself between Evie and the lab door. He ensured the door was sealed before he placed his forefinger to his lips, indicating silence. Evie nodded. Gladstone approached to within inches of her ear.
“Vadik has viral samples, he’s given them to Dr Aslanov. He found them on the boat and then went after the source. We’ve had eyes and ears on him for over a year. You’re in danger here, Dr Shepherd,” he whispered.
“If Aslanov has the viral coding, he can replicate it, weaponise it, and use it. We have to stop him,” Evie panicked.
“The two injured men you just saw—they met the resistance. Cross and Stewall reported contact, a skirmish with a small armed force. Cross disabled the soldier, SCIC Rostok, as he was about to shoot someone else. We have their location. It’s time for you and Dr Fitzgerald to leave. Now,” Gladstone urged.
“You said two injured men. I only saw one. There’s another?” Evie queried.
“Vadik, the political officer. We think he’s about to begin a revolution to seize power. The virus will give him the upper hand. Neither of them knows what they’re dealing with.”
“Is Vadik—?”
“Dead? No, but he’ll need a hand for a while. Nathan wounded both men, unsure of who they were. They found a logger, Yaromir, believed to be part of the People’s Resistance Army. It’s an outfit long persecuted by the Federation over the years. We think Cross and Stewall have joined forces with the resistance, it’s too early to tell yet. We’re having trouble tracking them at the moment, but I’ll keep you posted on any developments.” He replied.
“What do you want me to do? Does Charles know this information?” Evie began.
“Yes. I spoke with him earlier; he’s arranging an evac. Pack up your kit and be ready to move, but keep it to yourself. We don’t want a situation here, okay?” Gladstone warned.
Evie nodded before Gladstone turned to leave. If Aslanov weaponised that strain, who knew what could happen. She had no idea of what traits or effects it would induce into victims and there was no known cure.
Time was running out. With orders to leave, Evie began to pack her equipment, not yet resigned to being unable to prevent Aslanov from engineering a formidable biochemical weapon. A plan formulated in her mind She needed access to Aslanov’s lab for just a few minutes to make it work.
“I have to try,” Evie voiced her thoughts.
“Beg pardon, Ma’am?” Gladstone queried.
“What? Oh, nothing. Just thinking aloud, Gladstone.”
“Very good, Ma’am. I’ll leave you to it for now. We need to be ready to move out as soon as possible though. I’m sorry to press.”
“I understand. I’ll get to work straightaway. Thank you, Gladstone, for the heads-up.”
*****
Aslanov worked to stem the blood flow from the shattered wrist of the political officer. “What the hell happened? Why did you go after them with such a small force? You know only too well of the resistance, especially outside of the cities. You fool! You could have lost the samples.” He ranted.
“Let me remind you of whom you address,” Vadik snapped back, clearly in a lot of pain. “We found a logger a few miles from here, we know he’d been harbouring the fugitives. What, you want me to let him go? It was a small resistance force, nothing more. Fix me up and tomorrow, I’ll go finish what we started. In the meantime, get on with your work, Dr Aslanov. Remember, when I have power in this country, those who assist me will be greatly rewarded,” Vadik smiled. “I have ordered troops from Moscow for your army, once you have the means to ‘train’ them.”
“What about Rostok? Is he still with us?” Aslanov asked.
“You will need a subject upon which to test your toy, will you not?”
Aslanov smiled. “I will tend to his wound and keep him sedated, then begin work on the strain. In just a few more days, we will have the power to bring down The Federation and the resistance in one.”
“It is time for our guests to leave. We have this under control, at least, so far as the world and The Federation need to know. We don’t want any loose ends, do we?”
Aslanov bandaged the wound before administering pain relief. Vadik stood, nodded to the doctor and swept out of the room to leave him to tend to Supreme Commander-in-Chief Rostok.
The bullet had lodged against Rostok’s collarbone; the pain must have been excruciating. Aslanov topped up the sedatives to keep the commander unconscious—he had plans for him in the near future. It would require an operation to remove the lead, treatment for potential infection, and the stitching of the bullet hole. He would perform the surgery himself, such was the newfound importance of the patient.
His hands trembled as he called in assistance to prepare the theatre, though not in fear of the surgery. Only when he had scrubbed in, masked, and laid out his surgical implements, did his mind begin to focus on the task at hand.
*****
In her lab, Evie applied makeup to her face. She altered her hair and took off the long medical white coat. From her bag, she took a clean blouse and changed into trousers from her skirt. There were hundreds of staff on the temporary port base, and it should be easy to blend in for an hour or so, she thought. In her pocket, a secondary small vial sample of the virus formed the basis of her plans.
Dr Shepherd casually strolled from the laboratory, making a point to give a polite, friendly nod to the guards stationed outside the door. She was intent on making her way towards the communal catering facility—which meant she would pass by Aslanov’s lab en-route. As she approached, the area was a hustle and bustle of activity. People came and left his lab at random, each in a hurry to tend to their tasks.
A young, fresh-faced technician collided with her in her haste to exit the air-locked door, and the impact almost took them both off their feet. Evie helped the technician on her way, keen to prevent her from closing the portal to Aslanov’s laboratory. Evie waited until the junior had gone and then pushed against the thick, insulated door. If Aslanov was inside, she would simply say she’d come to compare notes or ask him for some advice.
No sign of the man.
Good.
Without thinking further, Evie crept in and closed the door behind. To exit was the same as her lab, simply an electronic button press. His lab was a mess of papers, printed readings, and vial samples, each labelled. There, on the main desk close to a sonicating machine, two vials labelled Sample 1 - unidentified substance:
Baltic Wanderer
and Sample 2 - DNA swabs - forks: Cabin stood in a tube rack. The writing was barely legible and scrawled in a hurry on each vial label. She picked up the first sample and slid it into her pocket.
Evie carefully took her own sample and scribbled on the label: Sample 1 - unidentified substance:
Baltic Wanderer
and slid it back into the vacated space. By observation alone, it was clear that Aslanov’s team had recovered more of the jelly-like substance, believed to be from the injured man who fled the ship. As quickly as she had entered, Evie left and continued towards the catering facility.
“Got you!” A voice behind her announced.
Evie froze. Panic sent a tremble through her body from head to toe.
“Are you all right, my dear? You look like you just robbed a bank,” Charles joked.
“Damn it, Charles!” Evie took a deep breath. “What is it with men scaring me half to death today? This place gives me the creeps,”
“I have arranged transport for us. Are you about packed up?”
“Um, yes. Just about done, a little more to do, still. We have time, right?”
“Oh yes, my dear. It’ll be a couple of hours yet, the helicopter is coming in from Tenerife. Gladstone and Portman will be along for the ride home. Any more news from our two intrepid explorers?” Charles asked.
“No. I was hoping you’d heard something. This could go bad real fast, Charles. You know what I know, right?”
“Yes. I know,” Charles frowned. “Come, you look like you could use a decent meal. I know I’m about ready to eat my own arm.” He smiled. “It’s not our fight anymore, the military and agencies have pulled our plug, I’m afraid.”
He put his arm around her shoulders and gently guided her.
“Come now, we’ll run more tests when we get back to the lab from the samples I sent ahead. From there, we can begin work on an anti-viral serum, just in case.”
Evie accepted their fate, though her hand toyed with the sample in her pocket as Charles spoke. Without further discussion on the subject, they made their way to the dining area.
On the horizon, the summit of Gora Lyavochorr cast a beautiful image, shrouded in low-lying clouds. Farther down the mountainside, the rebel camp awaited the arrival of their leader.
Rebel Mountain Base, Gora Lyavochorr Mountains, Murmansk, present day.
Two figures approached the waiting rebel general as he stood rigidly to attention. His men, matching his pose, admired the slim, attractive female who walked confidently to the right of Viktor Seuchencko. To be fair, she was beautiful, in a subdued kind of way. She resembled her father, but it was her eyes which belied the relationship. The held the same captivating iridescence.
I studied the man himself, his confident gait, and the fine lines of a very expensive suit hugging his lean frame. Even the cane with which he walked must have cost a small fortune, judging by the starlight sparkles that reflected from precious stones inset as he moved. Clearly, this man had power and wealth beyond my own imagination and yet, through all of his apparent awe, he seemed like a regular father at first glance, very proud of his beautiful daughter.
I nudged Barbie gently, a subtle reminder for her not to stare. She squirmed on her feet, restless it seemed. General Vostok lost the lower half of his face to an all-encompassing grin as he took the extended hand of the gentleman, and shook it heartily. His daughter, the petite, stunning brunette, matched the general’s toothy white grin, her face now capable of stopping traffic. Something told me she could kill him in seconds if she so desired. He took her hand with less power, but nonetheless enthusiasm, and brought his lips to the back of it lightly.
“Mr Seuchencko, Miss Seuchencko, how was the flight?” Volkov asked.
“It was bearable, Uri. Please, address me as Viktor, we have known each other a long time, my friend,” Seuchencko smiled.
“Allow me to introduce to you our guests, Simon and Barbie.”
“Mr Lloyd, Miss Carter. The pleasure is mine. I know all about you two. May I present to you my daughter, Janishka.”
As she approached, I could see her face and the resemblance more clearly. Her hand became lost in my own for an instant as her eyes bored into my very soul. She seemed captivated by something she found within them, because her gaze didn’t leave mine even after the brief handshake. After a pause much shorter than it seemed, she smiled at Barbie and took her hand, her head tilted slightly, as the picked up on the identical, mottled traits of her pupils to my own.
“You two are lovers?” She smiled coyly.
“Ahem!” Barbie spluttered. “Um, no. Whatever gave you that idea?”
“Just a thought. Pay no mind. Papa, shall we?” Janishka urged.
“Of course. Come, you two. Join us for refreshments. We have much to discuss. Uri, have your men supply my pilot with food and drink—but no alcohol,” Viktor smiled.
“Yes, Viktor. Right away.” General Volkov confirmed.
The enigmatic Russian oligarch breezed past Barbie and me. His confident strides opened up a pathway through the teeming rebels, just as Moses had parted the Red Sea. My eyes followed his daughter, as she stayed close by his side. She walked demurely, with an air of beauty, grace, and deadliness which commanded a second, even a third look as she passed the troops.
We found ourselves in a large, open cavern, clearly the epicentre of the monolithic stronghold. The décor here had been blended with the natural mineral etchings of the age-old rock that surrounded us. I found it quite breathtaking in its beauty.
“Granite bedrock. The flecks of potassium feldspar, quartz, biotite, and amphibole give it that pinkish, mottled colouring,” I blabbed. “It’s used in construction more and more often these days.”
Where did I pull that from? I’m turning into super-geek, as if being a freak of nature isn’t enough!
“I see you know your raw materials well, Mr Lloyd.” Viktor smiled.
“I, um, well yes. I guess I do.” I shrugged.
“This cavern is not a natural formation. It took several hundred men to create it without the use of heavy machinery. Mother Nature gave this place of safety, who am I to blight the beauty of creation by adding a façade to something already beautiful?” Viktor asked.
“It’s amazing. The colours are beautiful, and look, even the furniture has been chosen to blend subtly,” Barbie added.
“Please, sit. Make yourselves comfortable. Refreshments come soon.” Viktor Seuchencko took his place behind a beautifully carved, ornate wooden desk. I couldn’t determine the nature of the wood without closer inspection. Always to his right, Janishka sat on a small, plush, perfectly coordinated sofa, engrossed in something on a handheld tablet device.
“Do you know why we brought you here? Do you know the significance of your differences to others?” Viktor began.
His low, steady tone, enhanced by the sheer magnitude of the cavern, reverberated around us. He spoke slowly, his words enunciated, and in parts, overshadowed by his strong Russian accent.
“Jani. Would you be kind enough to brief Simon and Barbara? Bring them up to present. I think it is time they knew.”
“Da, Papa.” Janishka nodded.
Viktor thumbed a file, placed squarely upon the desk before him. The file, a modern laptop, and an old-style inkpot with scribe, were the only things to grace the ample natural perch. Janishka stood, and positioned herself to address me and Barbie directly.
“Both of you feel different, yes?”
“Yes. Do you know why?” I asked.
“Several months ago in your hometown, Simon, an industrial accident at a shale gas fracking site released a highly dangerous viral agent into the atmosphere.” She paused as our stares widened.
I looked at Barbie as her fingers locked and unlocked over and over again in her lap. My mind began to race back to what I could recall after I left the signal box.
“This is going to be a lot to take in. Some water, perhaps?” Janishka offered.
Both of us took long sips before she continued.
“The viral agent, originally designed as a weapon, infected tens of thousands and killed many more.” She paused, aware that the news caused some distress to us both.
“My wife, my children, you mean they are—” I began.
“My parents, friends, family. How could this be? You’re serious, aren’t you?” Barbie sobbed.
A dark cloud descended from the radiance of the speckled cavern ceiling. It shrouded me and infected me once again with a rage I’d not felt for days. My hands began to tremble so I forced myself to lock and interlock my fingers, just as Barbie had done.
“I am very sorry. This isn’t a joke. Please, allow me to continue,” Janishka began. “The virus is called S.A.L.B.Y—Saliva Activated Live Blood type Y. There was no known cure at the time of its accidental release, hence the casualty rate. You will both have seen some very strange, frightening things on your journey here. Can you remember much?” Janishka queried.
I began with my story from what I could remember since the end of my shift. Barbie followed with her own account, not dissimilar to mine.
“Good. You managed to stay alive, that is the important thing. After almost four months, the scientists developed a cure, created by chance on the discovery of a woman and her children—your wife, son, and daughter, Simon.”
I choked back the convulsive spasms which threatened to engulf me. My eyes felt heavy with years of unshed tears.
They are alive.
“I, um, excuse me, please go on. Tell us everything you know,” I gestured.
“Barbara, are you okay?” Janishka asked.
“Y-yes. It’s a lot to take in,” Barbie mumbled.
“After the release of the antidote, the people—the nation— began to recover quickly. At the time it broke out, a couple of hours’ window appeared between the government acting, and implementing. You two managed to breach the lockdown of the roads, railways, airports, and ports.
The ship you boarded, the
Baltic Wanderer
, was one of my father’s. We managed to keep its whereabouts secret from the authorities, at least until it ploughed into the harbour wall. You were at sea for over two months, circling mainly, off-grid of the main shipping lanes. Simon, we think you were the first to be infected. We know that your blood type, AB positive, is very rare and that your wife, Charlotte, is AB negative. Your children carry both of your genes. Charlotte became infected—but it’s fine, she has made a full recovery. The scientists used DNA from the children to combat the virus, Simon.” She paused.
“Could I have more water, please?” I whispered. My mouth felt arid. A roughness burned at my throat as I desperately struggled to retain my dignity. Barbie shook uncontrollably, tears welled and traced over both cheeks, my hand now locked in her own. I gulped at the presented water, emptying half of the glass, and set it back on the table before us.
Glass half full or glass half empty, which is it to be?
My mind sneered.
“Is … is there more we need to know?” I asked, afraid of the answer.
“You’ll have noticed that neither of you act the same as other infected souls you have seen, yes?” Janishka stated.
“Well, yes, come to think of it. But I thought we’d just caught a bug, that’s all—I mean, from the boat, perhaps,” Barbie added.
“No. Simon, you were infected before you got on the boat. Barbara, you became infected directly from Simon. You’re GEN1, Simon—the source. Barbara, you’re GEN2, a direct descendant.” Janishka looked me directly in the eyes as she spoke.
I squirmed in my seat, and the grip on my hand over Barbie’s tightened as my own tears began to flow.
“I … I … Uh … I’m so sorry, Barbie. I had no idea. I only wanted to see my kids, that’s all. Just that. I swear it,” I wailed. “The people I killed, the boy—” I couldn’t finish the sentence.
I doubled over and sobbed into my dampened hands. I felt Barbie’s arm pull my body into her own; the gesture offered at least some forgiveness.
“There is good and bad news,” Janishka continued. “If you were going to die, you would have done so long ago. The type Y victims only lived for a maximum of fourteen days. It seems, Simon, that the virus within you mutated somehow—we don’t know how, or why, without testing you both. That’s the good news—about you not dying. The bad news is that now you’re wanted as a priority by the Russian Federation, and just about every factional terrorist group on the planet. They see you as a perfect weapon, Simon. You too, Barbara,” Janishka finished.
“Well, that’s just great. Now I can’t go anywhere on Earth. Visitation rights to my kids right out the bloody window!” I cursed.
Sorry, Mr. Lloyd, but because you’re an infected freak, social services feel it would not be in the best interests of the children to have contact with you, please apply again in say … never! Does that answer the glass question for you?
“Wait a minute. If we’re wanted by the whole world, and they see us as a weapon, why are we here?” Barbie asked.
My selfish rage subsided long enough to understand the implications of what Barbie asked. I felt my fists clench at my sides as I waited for Seuchencko’s daughter to answer. I hadn’t noticed, but I
felt
Viktor hold me in his stare, his eyes luminescent through my scarlet-clouded gaze.
“As to why we brought you here. This place is a place of safety for you. It is well defended from the factions of this world. What you have, inside of you both, could change the face of humanity if it fell into the wrong hands—”
“And are
his
the wrong hands?” I pointed.
“You have nothing to fear, Simon. Please, allow my daughter to finish,” Viktor stated resolutely.
My stomach flipped for a second cycle, the spin speed kicked up a notch as the motor in my mind drew more and more energy.
“We are the People’s Resistance Army, Simon. The clue is in the name. The Federation intends to weaponise what you have to kill or infect millions, not just on this continent but
every
continent. For decades, we have been fighting a war of oppression, a regime against free will, free speech, and free trade. It is not our intention to use your abilities to
start
a global war—but to prevent one,” Janishka concluded.
Barbara sported the same perplexed expression that I did, the only difference being the chromosomes. Silence prevailed. I sipped at the water this time. Petrov, the young general’s son, entered the private quarters bearing food and fresh water, along with a vintage bottle of cognac. I can’t stand the stuff, normally. When Viktor offered me a good-sized shot, I took it and downed it in one go. The liquid fire stripped a layer from the back of my throat, seconds before the conflagration in my gut took hold. I shuddered with the sensation.
“Good, da?” Viktor chuckled.
“Whoa! Oh, Jesus! What’s
in
that?” I choked.
“That is good Cognac, French Cognac. Delamain, no less.” Viktor smiled.
“It’s rich. Barbie, take a slug of that stuff, it’ll put hairs on your chest and a fire in your heart for sure,” I babbled.
Drink, you worthless, useless, pathetic excuse for a father, go on, drink. You’re damn good at that!
The angry voices goaded.
I slugged back the remaining drops and poured another to chase it.
Viktor sipped at his own, savouring the taste before he set the glass back upon the desk.