Medora Wars (16 page)

Malik stood behind the camera that was placed directly in front of her chair and pressed a button at the back, prompting the flicker of a green light by the lens.

Atash leaned at the back wall by the door and waited until one of his men entered, holding a single flap of cardboard with English written neatly in black marker.

"Where's James?" Elise looked up at Atash.

"I assure you he will be kept safe, but we cannot have him in here while we make the film," Atash said.

"As part of this deal, you must guarantee me that no more harm will come to him. Ever. I don't want to see his face beat up again."

"As you wish, Miss Whitten."

"Do I have your word?"

"Yes," Atash responded without hesitation. "May we begin?"

"Yes," she said, looking down again as the blood at her feet had already begun to dry into a blackened stain.

Atash looked over at the man with the cue card who stepped up next to the camera.

Malik made an adjustment on the lens and looked up at her. "Okay, as soon as you see the red light on the camera, wait three seconds, and then read what is on the cardboard. Do not add or subtract any words to what is written. Do you understand?" Malik asked.

"Yes." She realized that the way Malik talked was his attempt to mimic Atash's demeanor; he was trying to emulate his ability to empathize but at the same time to dictate to others. She waited until the light turned red, and then read the message scrawled on the cardboard:

"This message is for the United States government and President Rambert. I am Elise Whitten, the American ambassador to what was once the country of Mexico. I have been captured by the brotherhood of the Sirr, along with a secret serviceman James Sheffield. The brotherhood of the Sirr will execute me by beheading if the United States attempts to bring its Navy anywhere along the Venezuelan coast or engages with any vessel found there. In addition to my death, America will suffer far graver consequences if it attempts to meddle in the affairs of the brotherhood of the Sirr. Thank you."

She looked back over at Atash who stared at her. The red light on the camera went dim. Elise spoke up, “I know quite a bit about how the U.S. government functions, and I’ll tell you right now, that this isn’t going to work. They’ll put up a big fuss that you’ve captured an Ambassador, but in the end, they won’t care. You can’t keep them out of Venezuela.”

Atash walked up to her and touched the side of her cheek. “Madame Ambassador, I sincerely hope you’re right.”

Chapter Fourteen: Washington D.C.

“One hundred percent natural flavors,” Mayberry said loudly, laughing to himself. He looked to the woman who was seated next to him at the coffee shop. “Can you believe it?” he asked her. He continued looking at her until she felt uncomfortable enough to respond.

“Uh, excuse me?” she said, squinting at him.

“This drink I have here, it says right on the label that there is one hundred percent natural flavors.” He held the jar up for her to see.

“Yeah, that’s pretty funny.” She smiled vacantly, and turned from him, staring intently at her bowl of soup.

“No, you don’t get it.” He got up from his chair and pulled out a seat next to her. “Would you mind explaining to me what a ‘natural flavor’ is?” he asked, using quotation marks with his fingers.

“Sir, I don’t really… what do you mean?” She looked over his shoulder for any bystanders.

“Well, what would you describe as a natural flavor? I mean, what does that phrase even mean?” He smiled at her.

“I don’t know, I guess that the drink has only… real fruit juice?”

“No, see? No, no that’s exactly what that phrase implies, but if you look at the ingredients, high fructose corn syrup is the very first thing you see,” Mayberry said.

“Oh…” She backed her chair away from him and started collecting her things.

“It’s a phrase sufficiently vague, but just suggestive enough to make the consumer believe that it is something genuine, when it is in fact the complete opposite. It’s just a sugar water drink, nothing else. There’s nothing natural about it, but it’s a magical use of the word ‘flavor.’ Such a word is so open to interpretation that the company that sells this drink can simply just claim innocence with the defense that the word ‘flavor’ is in the eye of the consumer.”

“That’s very interesting, but I do need to go now,” the woman said in a condescending tone, and walked away from the table, leaving Mayberry alone.

Mayberry continued talking to the empty table. “It’s become the symbol of our expectations. We expect the authentic, and ignorantly accept the fraudulent, simply because it’s presented to us with such blurred lines that we see what we want to see without realizing what it is. Arrogant of the trivial, ignorant of the critical…” he looked up as the woman walked away. “And it just goes on and on.”

He stood and collected his briefcase and jacket from where he was sitting, tossed the bottle of juice into a trashcan, and walked out. The air outside was too humid for August. Mayberry sighed in frustration as he made his way over to his car. As he crossed the street he finally decided that almost all traffic had ceased over the past two weeks. He couldn’t remember the last time that he had to wait in rush hour to get home or even just to go out for lunch.
My morning commute was as light as three a.m. traffic today
, he thought. The sidewalks, however, were full of people scurrying about.
The foot traffic is up because people are staying close to their homes
, he thought.
They only go out for groceries and quickly get back home to watch their streaming movies and forget about how scared they are of the sky—the sky that can burst with bodies at any minute or flash with bombs
.

Stepping over an overturned garbage can next to his car, he got in, and saw that he had a missed call on his phone from a blocked number. He dialed back and heard the phone pick up. “Hello? This is Chuck Mayberry, someone called me from this number, and you should know that it is illegal to contact this number unsolicited.”

“Director Mayberry?” the voice was quiet.

“Malik! You’re… you’re alive.” Mayberry coughed on the coffee he was sipping.

“Yes, and I have something important to tell you,” he said calmly.

“Go ahead.” He bowed his head over his legs and plugged one ear.

“I’m in Merida, Mexico. It’s right at the southern edge of the Gulf of Mexico.”

“Mexico? How the hell did you get to Mexico from Tokyo?”

“We came across the Pacific by boat, and then took a small plane to Merida from the coast,” he explained.

“Are you with Atash Yekta?”

“Yes, yes, the crazy son of a bitch shot our boat captain in the head as we approached the Mexican coast. We crashed into a gigantic rock face and all nearly died.”

“Was it some sort of terrorist attempt?”

“No, no he was trying to prove to us that God, or the Buddha, or whoever in the hell these people believe in was guiding us to our fate. A few soldiers died in the crash, but we managed to get out before it sunk, and met with some operatives at a small airport in Manzanillo on the Atlantic coast, and flew out from there to Merida.”

“What is Yekta telling you?”

“They’re planning an attack inside the U.S. in two weeks.”

“Where?”

“D.C. with a nuclear weapon,” Malik said dryly.

“They have a nuclear weapon?” Mayberry yelled.

“No, but they plan on stealing one from inside the U.S.”

“And just how in fuck’s sake do they plan on doing that?” He snorted into the phone.

“Atash says they know exactly where the weapons are kept, and that they have several men from the brotherhood that are very high up at one of the facilities.”

“Do you know which facility?”

“No, he hasn’t told me. He won’t tell me.”

“There are nine places in nine different states that hold warheads. It’s going to be hard to figure out where the brotherhood members are if you can’t tell me.”

“They’re going to tell me eventually once we get into the States. I think I’ll be able to say soon.”

“How well is this thing planned? Do they have a date and time that it’s going to happen?”

“They’ve only told me that it will be in the next two weeks. I don’t have a date yet, but the problem is I don’t know if I’ll be able to tell you when I know.”

“You’re entire mission depends on you telling me where and when the seizure will happen. You must do everything you can to stop any nuclear warhead from falling into their hands, do you understand?”

“Of course.”

“What can you tell me about the Sirr?”

“He’s not here in Merida, and I still have never met him. He was at first thought of as just a higher up in the organization, but now all the soldiers revere him as some sort of prophet. It’s like he just transforms into whatever figurehead the organization needs.”

“If that’s true, then who is the leadership?”

“Atash controls everything we do here, but I know he has been communicating with someone outside who is also giving him all sorts of information.”

“You don’t know who it is?”

“Of course not. The good thing is that I think he fully trusts me now. He doesn’t do anything without first consulting with me, and I think I’ve become the second in command out of about thirty five of us stationed here.”

“And as far as you can tell, Atash Yekta remains totally loyal to the Sirr?”

“Atash? Of course, the man worships him.”

“Tell me about Venezuela,” Mayberry said.

“They are trying, at all costs, to get the United States to stay out of the Gulf of Paria.”

“Why?”

“Because all of the brotherhood from South America is meeting there.”

“Dammit. Well, what is your location exactly? I need the address and global positioning.”

“I’d rather not divulge that information at this time, sir.”

“And why the hell not?”

“I don’t think it’s imperative that you know that for the moment, and I believe it could also compromise all of the intel that I’ve collected up until this point.”

“It is not your choice what information you want to give me. When I say I want to know something, you tell me. I think it is very imperative I know these details in the event that you die, so we’re not left with our thumbs up our asses. I thought I made that perfectly clear to you before you went out on this mission, that you will do everything I say, and exactly when I say it.”

“Yes, you did.”

“Good, now where exactly is this base of men where you’ve been hiding out?”

“I’ll tell you in a few days.”

“No, you’ll tell me now.”

“No, I won’t, sir. I will not give you that piece of information right now.”

“But we could just come there now and stop them from ever getting into the States to seize our warheads.”

“I will tell you soon. I can’t explain right now why I can’t tell you, but you’ll have to trust me.”

“Do I need to remind you that I won’t delete your civilian files until after you have served this mission?”

“Why don’t you go fuck yourself?” Malik responded, calmly.

“Oh, you don’t want me to fuck myself, because if I do that, I will also be fucking you over, you little shit,” Mayberry yelled at the windshield.

“Go ahead, release the files. I’m going to die out here anyway. I don’t care what anybody knows about what I did anymore.”

“You’re sounding a little too fatalistic out there. Are you sure those religious psychopaths aren’t rubbing off on you?”

“No, no, I’ve just been out here doing this so long that I’m not even myself anymore.”

“I can’t believe I decided to put you out there. You better start getting your shit together and step up, or we could possibly have a nuclear attack inside the U.S., and it will mostly be your fault.”

Malik let out a long breath. “You wouldn’t even know about the nuclear threat if it weren’t for me. I’ll call you when I know more.”

“You call me tomorrow,” Mayberry shouted.

“Fine.” Malik hung up.

Mayberry looked down at his phone and sent out a text message to a phone number fifteen digits long and waited, putting his head down on the steering wheel. He looked back at the empty screen on his phone and breathed deep, thinking about nine warehouses in nine cities, and exactly twenty five hundred government employees per warehouse. He also momentarily dwelled on the five thousand nuclear warheads that could set the world on fire, until his phone finally rang.

“Chuck it’s me.” Rambert cleared his throat.

“Thanks for getting back to me so quick, Mr. President. What’s your location?”

“Eau Claire,” he said quietly.

“Oh good, you finally made it out there. Our headquarters there are the absolute best place for you to be. It’s the single best place in the world to know every global event that is happening. I practically live there.”

“Yes, well, unfortunately having good eyes here has only let me truly see the kind of god awful situation that we really are in. I need solutions, and I need them now.”

“Yes, I know… I’ve been talking to Secretary Raff this morning, and I understand that you’ve sent a naval fleet to the Gulf of Mexico,” Mayberry said.

“Just outside of Corpus Cristi. We’ve already started some targeted bombings in northern Mexico, at the horde.”

“It’s already to that point? What kind of infantry are you sending down there?”

Rambert paused for a moment. “Four hundred thousand.”

“Four hundred thousand!” Mayberry blurted out. “That’s almost our entire Army active duty personnel.”

“Of course, I know this Chuck.”

“What kind of numbers are we seeing in Juárez of infected people?”

“We don’t really know, but Secretary Raff tells me satellite images are estimating between ten and fifteen million infected individuals, who will bottleneck at Juárez within the next seventy two hours. The entire top half of Mexico is moving north like ah, ah, herd of animals.”

“I can’t believe the Mexicans couldn’t even touch the outbreak. Are we attacking Juárez?

“Not yet, we’re still mobilizing troops, which is going fine so far, except four Apache and two cargo choppers just vanished off the face of the planet in route to El Paso. Know anything about it?”

“No. That’s weird.”

“Look, look this isn’t why I called, and I don’t have a lot of time here. I just need to know about Venezuela.”

“You need to know if we should send our Navy down there?”

“Yes! Dammit, of course. Within the last forty eight hours all of China’s and Venezuela’s Navies has assembled in the Gulf of Paria, in Venezuela.”

“What? Why didn’t anyone tell me about this?”

“Because we didn’t need you to know then.”

“Tell me numbers, Mr. President.”

“Five aircraft carriers, twenty one Destroyers, nineteen Frigates… undoubtedly many submarines.”

“This is bad,” Mayberry whispered.

“It’s the worst case scenario. We have blatant mobilization and assembly of their navy with obvious attempts at aggression on the United States, while most of our Army and Marines are being sent to El Paso. Both Venezuela and China have cut off communication with us, making us assume an imminent attack.”

“What’s happening to us?”

“We’re being trampled on by everyone, that’s what’s happening. China just expects to walk right in, and every one of our allies is trying to fight off their own outbreaks. It’s as if—”