“EMSAH,” Briggs said. “I suppose anyone under the Colony’s control is investigating EMSAH in one way or another.”
“Is there an EMSAH outbreak in this sector?”
“Of course.”
“Are you causing it?”
“Absolutely.”
Mort(e) chuckled. I guess this concludes my investigation, he thought.
“The question you should be asking,” Briggs said, “is not, ‘Is this EMSAH?’ Of course it’s EMSAH. EMSAH is everywhere. We did a good job spreading it around. No, the question you should be asking is, ‘What is EMSAH?’ And, ‘Why are the ants so afraid of it?’ ”
“Can you answer these questions for me?” Mort(e) asked.
“The Archon decided that you should find out on your own,” Briggs said. “She is our leader. Besides, you wouldn’t believe me if I told you.”
“Am I infected?”
“I’m afraid you could be.” There was an impatient trembling in Briggs’s voice. Mort(e) could not tell if it expressed regret or satisfaction.
“So the scattered reports about people getting sick,” Mort(e) said. “Is this EMSAH?”
“Probably.”
“But they’ve been testing negative so far.”
“Maybe your test is not keeping up with the disease.”
“And the suicides?” Mort(e) asked.
“EMSAH,” Briggs replied.
“The murders, too?”
“EMSAH, yes,” Briggs said. Now he was being nonchalant.
“Do you control the ones who are infected?”
“We do not control them. We try to guide them.”
“So you guided them to commit suicide?”
Briggs shook his head. “Has it ever occurred to you that you are the ones who are compelling these people to commit these terrible acts?” he asked. “We know about you. You’ve always suspected that the Queen’s plans for your people would not work. That’s the reason why you walked away from the Red Sphinx. These infected ones, as you call them, they know what’s in store for them if they’re discovered. How can you blame them for fighting back?”
“So you’re saying that these events are not simply the results of a disease,” Mort(e) said. “They’re acts of protest. Sabotage.”
“A warning,” Briggs said. “A sign of what is to come.”
Mort(e) wanted to bring this human to the house with the dead rats in it. He wanted to shove the man’s ugly face into the tub so he could see firsthand what his species had done.
“Did you put that message in my basement?” Mort(e) asked, eager to change the subject. “The one about Sheba?”
“Yes,” Briggs said.
“Why?”
“Because it’s true.”
“That’s impossible.”
“The past few years,” Briggs said with a sigh, “have been a monument to the impossible. Wouldn’t you say?”
“Where is she?”
“On the Island.”
The word — along with the casual way in which this fugitive said it — made Mort(e) shudder. Whenever someone brought up the subject, his imagination conjured up images of Janet and the children, filthy and cowering, rounded up by Alpha soldiers, imprisoned in cages until they were summoned to partake in one of Miriam’s experiments. And who could say for sure that Miriam wasn’t also running tests on animals? And yet here was this human, holding Mort(e) hostage in his own garage, forcing him to imagine Sheba on an operating table.
“Why are you telling me this?” he asked.
“It is your destiny to find her again,” Briggs said. “The Queen has feared it. Our prophet has foreseen it. The entire war depends on it.”
“Prophet?”
“An oracle, a messenger with the gift of sight,” Briggs said. “He tells us that you will find Sheba again. In doing so, you will save both your people and ours. Don’t tell me you’ve given up hope.”
“Destiny and hope,” Mort(e) said. “You are a relic, you know that? No wonder you lost. Besides, no one can get to the Island, anyway. She might as well be on Mars. I don’t care what your prophet says.”
“I have something for you,” Briggs said, reaching into the bag, his eyes still fixed on Mort(e). He pulled out a red plastic tube and slid it across the desk.
Mort(e) picked up the tube and examined it. There was a large glass eye at one end and a smaller one at the other. A telescope.
“We are not the monsters the Queen made us out to be,” Briggs said. “We are reaching out to you as friends.”
“Friends don’t spread diseases to their friends.”
Briggs smiled knowingly. “The first step to ending this war starts tonight.”
“What am I supposed to do with this?” Mort(e) asked.
“Look to Orion’s belt at midnight every night,” Briggs said. “What you’ll see will answer most of your questions about what has happened to the resistance.”
Mort(e) placed the telescope on the desk. It rolled before coming to a stop at the computer monitor.
“Do you know Morse code?” Briggs asked.
“The basics.”
“Relearn it, and we’ll be able to communicate with you. One day, perhaps very soon, we hope to be able to tell you how to get to the Island.”
“What does it matter if I get there?”
“It will show that the Queen has not destroyed everything,” Briggs said. “It will show that we are not simply the savages that she thinks we are. So much depends on it.”
He said the word we to mean both humans and everyone else, as if there was some kind of camaraderie among the species.
Briggs stood up and backed his way to the door. He extended his arm to demonstrate that he could still inflict pain if he felt threatened.
“There is a catch,” Briggs said.
“What’s that?”
“If you succeed in finding Sheba, it will trigger the largest outbreak of EMSAH yet. You’ll fulfill the prophecy, and the Queen’s experiment will be deemed a failure. She will respond with a total quarantine. We had a big debate about whether or not to tell you, but we decided that you should know.”
“What does EMSAH have to do with Sheba and me?”
“When you find out what EMSAH is, you’ll understand. All I can say for now is that the Queen has linked the virus to you.”
“That’s insane,” Mort(e) said. “If the Queen thinks I’m part of this EMSAH business, why doesn’t she send her daughters to kill me?”
“Her arrogance has blinded her,” Briggs said. “She thinks she can observe and report. Like this is another test of our weakness as a species. She thinks she can control you. But this is not a lab. And you are not an animal anymore. You can choose to go beyond what she has planned for you. She does not believe. The Queen is blind. And that will be her downfall. It is the downfall of all tyrants.”
Mort(e)’s gaze dropped to the floor in frustration. This talking in riddles was so human, so unlike the brutal simplicity of the ants. Of course the Queen didn’t believe—she simply knew.
“Remember: watch Orion’s belt at midnight,” Briggs said. “We’ll work on a way to get you to the Island. Good luck.”
The man scuttled under the half-open garage door, leaving behind a brief but intense spray of raccoon scent.
Mort(e) tapped the telescope with his finger. Swaying above, the St. Jude medallion reflected dull flashes of light from the lamp.
Chapter Eleven: Vesuvius
The first order of business was to make sure he wasn’t going crazy.
On the morning after the visit from Briggs, Mort(e) checked into the army hospital on the outskirts of the old city, even though he was not scheduled for a physical for a few months. The hospital had once been a train station. Its marble floors and stone walls were easy to disinfect. All it took was a few rodents, some bleach, and a really big hose.