Medora Wars (15 page)

“Dr. Beckfield,” Stark said loudly.

Stirring awake, Beckfield opened his eyes, and looked up at Stark. “Dr. Stark, I see you’ve returned no happier than when you left. Have you had a chance to look at my scan?”

“Yes.”

“Oh really? Then I suppose you’d like to know what happened to my pancreas.”

“For once, you read my mind.”

“Oh, well I think you’ve already got some theories, am I right?”

“I’m asking you… just be frank with me. If you care about the outbreaks that are happening around the world at all, you will just stop playing games.”

“First tell me what you think is going on with my pancreas.”

“You’ve used your nanovirus to somehow fix your pancreas,” Stark replied flatly.

“You say that as if it’s no large feat.”

“No, no it is…”

“Then why don’t you care?”

“Because it doesn’t help me right now. Yes… it is an amazing thing that you are somehow surviving without a pancreas—”

“Oh no, no, I have a pancreas. The nanoviruses built it for me. It’s perfectly functioning.” Beckfield slowly smiled and sat up in bed. “I don’t have to take insulin or anything.”

“You made an artificial pancreas?”

“Oh no… they did.”

“The nanovirus?”

“I simply put them in my bloodstream and they figured out the rest. They detected my diseased pancreas and replaced it with a cybernetic one.”

“That doesn’t make any sense. There’s no way you figured out how to program a nanovirus to do that. And, and on top of that, if the nanovirus is floating around in you, then why aren’t you showing signs of the actual infection?” Stark asked.

“The very first thing I did was fix that glitch in the virus. I’m not a monster. I don’t actually
want
people turning into rabid cannibals.”

“Then how the hell is the outbreak happening right now? Your story is full of holes.”

“They found me in chains, didn’t they?”

“Yes… and?”

“I was forced to revert my new nanovirus back into the virulent type that causes the… unfortunate symptoms.”

“What? Wait, wait, so the virus that is out there right now, destroying major cities, is the same thing that infected New York two years ago?”

“Not exactly.”

“What’s the difference between it now?”

“Adaptability. Extreme adaptability.”

Chapter Thirteen: Merida, Mexico

“Madame Ambassador, do you mind if I call you Elise?” Malik tried to speak with the confidence that he had learned from Atash.

“I don’t care.” Elise looked up as the man approached from the crooked doorway and stood by her cot.

“I’m sure you have a lot of questions,” Malik said.

“No, not really.”

“No? I would think that after being rescued from a pile of infected rubble to then be imprisoned in a janitor’s closet might have you wondering a little.”

“You would think but at this point I really don’t care.” She looked past him at the corner in the ceiling.

“You don’t care who I am?”

“I know who you are.”

“Don’t be so sure,” Malik said almost playfully.

“You’re cancer,” she said.

“What?”

“Just a couple of cells that started growing out of control, unchecked from the rest of the world.”

“We are the brotherhood—”

“You grew to be the shocking tumor that shows up on an X-ray that no one knew was there until it was too late,” she said.

“The Sirr.”

“What? Whatever. How long have I been here?”

“Two weeks.”

“Okay, thanks.” She leaned back into the cot.

Malik paused, trying to choose his words carefully. “This ‘cancer’ that you speak of has changed the course of humanity.”

“Don’t preach to me,” she said with exhaustion.

“Would you like to know about the baby?” Malik said, hoping to pique her interest.

“You’re pulling out your leverage a little too quick on me, I think.”

“We have not harmed him.”

“Of course you haven’t, otherwise you wouldn’t be bringing it up.” She stared up at the ceiling.

“And your secret service agent man is also unharmed.”

“So what do you want?” she interrupted.

Malik thought of how Atash would respond. “What I would like to know is what I can do for you.”

“Hey, you already made the mistake by calling me the ambassador, which tells me that you intend to use me as some sort of leverage against the U.S. government. You also already showed a few other cards, so we don’t need to go around playing some game where you pretend to be helpful to try to gain my trust so that you can manipulate me,” she said, turning around in the cot, away from Malik.

“Oh, and just what other cards have I shown you, Madame Ambassador?”

“It’s obvious that you’re American from your accent.”

“I’m not trying to hide who I am.”

“No, no that’s where you’re wrong. You’re not trying to hide your accent, but you’re definitely not speaking very naturally. You’re… enunciating too clearly like someone trying to speak English as if it were your second language. You’re speaking awkwardly in your own language, which only means to me that you’re trying to force something that’s foreign to you.”

“And your point?” Malik asked, annoyed and surprised.

“Ha, see right there I know I’m right, because you’re already getting upset that I pointed it out so easily.”

“Elise, my only goal here is to not sacrifice your life unnecessarily.” He pursed his lips together, hoping to redirect the conversation.

“You are utterly and entirely full of shit. I mean,
you
at least are full of shit. I’m sure your big scary organization would love to just come in here and slit my throat.” She gave a long smile and leaned back into the cot. “Just get out of here. Do whatever you want with me.”

“Madame Ambassador… Elise, I’d like to tell you about how I arrived here in Mexico.” He paused, waiting for a response. “Me and my brothers were being carried on a large boat whose only captain was sacrificed as we approached the coastline. As followers of the Sirr, we waited patiently for our deaths, or equally for our redemption as the boat crashed upon the rocks. My body was thrust from the cabin, and I landed on the bloodied bodies of my brethren. I was… uninjured. God saved me while he let almost all of my brothers die. I believed he saved me so that I could meet you, Elise. You were meant to be our witness.”

“The Sirr sounds very generous.”

“No, no the Sirr is only God’s mouthpiece. It is God who saved me, but not for my purposes but his own. As soon as I’m no longer needed, I will be killed the same as you or anyone else. You have been chosen to be instrumental in finishing this great purge. The wheels have already been set in motion, and although you don’t understand now, you will soon be grateful for the part you will have played in our holy scourge.”

“I wonder what happened to you that made you believe all of that.”

“Understanding happened to me.”

“No, something bad happened to you.”

“Your guesses will not help you here.”

“Let me ask you something, did you have to kill your two teenaged sons?” she spoke up at the ceiling. “Did you have to take a marble bookend and bash in one of their skulls because he was gnawing on your husband’s neck?”

Malik slowly took a step back.

Elise continued. “Did you have to ram the front end of your car into your other son, pinning him to his own mural that he painted on the garage wall when he was twelve?”

“You don’t know anything about me,” Malik said as he turned from the bed.

“Do you see that you can’t do anything to me? I already have nothing to lose. God has already
cleansed
me.”

“You know, Miss Witten, you’ve showed some of your cards as well.” He waited for a response but then continued over the silence. “I noticed that you referred to the baby as ‘it.’ ”

“What’s your point?”

“It’s just a little unusual that a mother of two—”

“Former mother of two.”

“Right, it’s unusual that a former mother of two would so callously refer to a helpless baby who has just been turned over to the arms of terrorists as an ‘it.’ ”

“It’s not my baby.”

Malik gave a forced laugh. “You see, I can see through you right now. I believe you want to care deeply about the baby, but you’re only trying to show detachment from it.”

“What, so you can’t use
it
as leverage from me? Not everyone tries to find out who their pawns are, especially not a baby.”

“No, no, you detach yourself from the child to simply protect yourself. You don’t want to experience anything close to what it was like to losing your children again.”

“So, are you the beheading type of terrorists?”

“I’m not here to threaten you.”

“Because, I guess I wouldn’t mind going with a beheading. I mean, it’s pretty quick, not a lot of pain. Probably a lot of buildup though.”

“I can personally assure you that nothing like that will happen to you.”

“You’re really quite generous,” she said.

Malik walked to the doorway and turned over his shoulder. “You will soon understand how generous we really are.” He sauntered out.

*****

The next morning a new man came in and gave Elise a few pills, with a large glass of water. He untied her hands and legs and rolled her onto her belly, exposing the open wound on her upper thigh and buttock. Without saying a word, she felt small needle stings around the wound that soon deadened with the numbness of an anesthetic. She heard the clanking of small scissors and felt a needle as the wound was brought together with sutures. After twenty minutes of sewing, the man bandaged her leg, and patted down the adhesive with care. Gently, he rolled her over, and she saw the face of what looked like a white American man. He wore Army fatigues underneath a black coat.

The man saw the surprise in Elise’s face. “We’re not all Middle Eastern,” he said in an American accent. “The brotherhood of the Sirr goes far beyond race and religious practice.” He smiled at her and brought out another set of pills.

She looked at him and took the pills in her hand. “What’re these ones for?”

“The first ones were painkillers, these second ones are antibiotics. Please take them.”

“I will.” She put them in her mouth and swallowed.

“Our brothers want you to be healthy. You’ve been chosen for a special task.” The man rose to his feet and collected the surgical equipment that he had laid out on a small wooden stool.

“What task?” she asked.

“It’s not my place to say, but you’ll find out soon.” He had collected his things into a burlap sack and walked toward the door.

“Why are you doing this?”

“Have you seen our country the last two years?” he asked.

“The United States?”

“Yes. Have you seen what it has become?”

“I don’t… I don’t know what you mean.”

“Yes, you do. It was destroyed two years ago, leaving behind just a shell of what we really were. The brotherhood is here to just finish the job.” He turned to her and walked out.

Realizing that the man had forgotten to tie her back up, she got to her feet. She was surprised at the lack of pain in the back of her leg, and moved to the door only to find that Malik had appeared. He stepped in, followed by several other men.

“Hello, Elise, please have a seat.” Malik gestured toward the cot.

She stumbled backward and moved toward the cot, sitting down on her uninjured leg. “Just leave me alone.”

Another man stepped from behind Malik and smiled at Elise. “Hello, Elise. My name is Atash.” He reached out his hand toward her.

Looking up at him, she was for a moment absorbed by his eyes. They looked down on her with kindness and with what she thought was a literal sparkling in the dimly lit room. His smile was wide and sincere, and for a moment, she wanted to believe in the empathy that easily flowed from his countenance. She looked at his hand, and then defiantly looked away.

Atash diminished his smile and slowly lowered his hand. “Oh, I’m sorry that we have been treating you quite harshly, my dear. I assure you that all the brothers here don’t have half as good of sleeping arrangements that you do.” He laughed, speaking excellent English in a vaguely Middle Eastern accent.

“What do you want?” she said flatly, looking at the floor.

“I would like you to get on camera and to speak to your country,” he said pointedly.

“No, I’m not going to be doing that.”

“Elise, I know you don’t want to play games, and I don’t want to play games either. I don’t think we should be wasting each other’s time, so this is what we will do.” He motioned to two men that had been standing at the door, who quickly left, but returned carrying a man in between them. “This is your secret serviceman, Mr. Sheffield, I believe.” The men dragged him in and dumped him on the concrete floor in front of Elise.

“James!” she yelled out, dropping to the floor next to him. He had a paper sack over his head and was dressed in only boxer briefs. She took off the bag and looked at his face, which bulged from what could only have been severe and prolonged beatings. He tried speaking, but bloodied saliva dripped from his swollen mouth, and fell to the floor. The two men grabbed Elise by the armpits and sat her back on the cot.

“Now we have a camera all ready and set up in the room right next door. We would like you to record a very brief message that we have already written up on a few cue cards. It’s only a few sentences that you need to read, and then that will be it. If you don’t do it, I will put a bullet in your agent’s head, right here in front of you.” Atash revealed a handgun from his robe and pointed it down at Sheffield.

Her first instinct was to scream, but she silenced her emotions for a moment.

“You will either record the message or you won’t. Please tell me now, and you should know that I’ll only be accepting you first answer,” Atash said.

She ran the different scenarios in her mind; trying to predict the consequences of every outcome, but there was something about Atash’s sincerity that was undeniable. He somehow had integrity in his threat. She knew that he would kill Sheffield in the next ten seconds. “Yes, fine,” she said. “I’ll do it, just put down the damn gun.”

Atash lowered the gun. “Thank you, Madame Ambassador. Please come with me.” He stepped aside for Elise to get off the cot.

She followed Malik through the doorway, into a dark hallway, and then immediately around a corner into what was once intended to be a kitchen. A single light bulb hung from the ceiling, casting long shadows from a small table full of electronic equipment sprouting with wires. A gaping hole was in place of where the kitchen sink was supposed to be, exposing gnarled plumbing that reeked of mold.

Atash walked from behind Elise over to a large camera that had been mounted beneath the swinging light bulb. He dragged a chair across the floor and placed it in front of the camera. "Please have a seat." He smiled.

She limped over as the pain from her leg returned and slipped on the tiled floor that had a greasy film over its entire surface. After sitting, she saw a drain in the floor at her feet, where dark stains of blood had pooled recently.