That made her feel better. The virus really terrifies him. If he gets it he knows no more rough sex with the hookers downtown. Actually, she mused, two Edens could have sex as rough as they wanted, as long as it was consensual. It’s giving up the genuine violence and the fear in his victims’ eyes that he’s afraid of, surrendering the power and the forcible dominance – call it like it is, the rape. Giving up that thrill. And he hates me all the more that I refuse to knuckle under even a little bit. He’s just another bully.
Durgan cleared his throat, and she realized she had been sitting there woolgathering. “Look Elise,” he said reasonably, “we can’t have any more of this running away. Not just because you’re an important part of the team, even though I know you’re holding out on me. We can’t have you passing the Plague on before we perfect it. If you’d just figure out how to get rid of – or even just reduce – the undesirable effects, we’d be able to start using it to help people. To cure people.”
Elise sighed. “Look, Doctor, we’ve had this argument before. The best thing about it is that the worst people in the world won’t want it, and if they do have it, they will no longer be the worst. Like him.” She jerked her thumb sideways in Miguel’s direction, never taking her eyes off Durgan. “Infect him and you won’t have to worry about him hurting anyone anymore. How many times have you bailed him out of jail?”
“Ah, but if I did that, he might want to run off too. One of the reasons he’s staying here, one of the reasons he is so angry with you, is that he does want the Plague. He just doesn’t want the side effects. If you alter it properly, if you give me a strain that we can use, he’ll be off your back. I’ll make sure he gets reassigned to some other project. In fact, I probably won’t have any choice. He’ll become so valuable to…those above us, they will want to use him for special tasks.”
“You mean he’ll become a more effective thug.” She spat on the floor in Miguel’s direction, and laughed as he jumped back. “Wow. See? His biggest fear is that his evil will be cured.”
“Come on, Elise. You’re a scientist. You don’t believe in evil.”
“Oh, I’m beginning to come around. Just because evil has a basis in neurology doesn’t make it any less horrifying. I’ve seen that ‘good’ – to give it a simple name – can come out of a virus. That means evil is just mental illness. And you’re sitting here refusing to cure someone who is certifiable, because he’s useful to you. What does that make you?”
Durgan’s voice was droll. “You are a master of the obvious, Elise. You know you are right. Miguel is useful.” His voice hardened. “And unless you want to suffer, you’ll stop even talking about spreading your infection. If I have to, I’ll have you confined and your food intake reduced. I can keep you at the edge of starvation for as long as I need to.”
Fear shot through her but she refused to let it show. “I won’t be able to help in the research if you do that.”
“But perhaps it would motivate the others, knowing how much discomfort you are in. And if that doesn’t work, perhaps I will reverse the roles.” Durgan leaned forward, his balding head shining with the sweat of stress – or perhaps it was excitement, power. “Perhaps I will have Miguel abuse someone you care about. Roger. Arthur. Or…how about Bobo?”
In spite of her resolution not to show them any fear, she blanched. I can’t let them hurt Bobo. The chimp would never understand. She would never trust a human again. And even though primates could be carriers, it didn’t affect them exactly the same. They didn’t heal fast like humans did, not in body or in mind.
She couldn’t let them do it.
“All right,” she whispered. “I won’t cause any more trouble.”
Durgan’s face broke out in a big, false smile. “You see? I knew you could be reasonable. Miguel, go get Karl.” When the man had left he went on, “You like Karl, right? Well now that we’re all friends again, he can be your minder. I can be reasonable too.”
“Thank you,” she ground out. The courtesy cost her something. Self-respect, perhaps. But what could she do? Until Daniel showed up – and she hoped he would – she was helpless.
***
The next morning at the cabin the men awoke at dawn. At least, Zeke and Daniel did. Spooky was already up and around somewhere. That guy doesn’t sleep much, thought Daniel.
Zeke talked to Spooky for a minute before they started their morning run, out of Daniel’s earshot. He realized he wasn’t really one of the team. Not yet. All he’d done was fast-rope down to a bad situation and save Zeke’s life on a Kandahar mountainside, and knock off a bunch of Taliban. He hadn’t done any actual ops with him or his people.
Zeke and Daniel walked down a trail that connected to a jogging loop. Daniel hadn’t run for exercise since the IED explosion, and he was eager to find out how healed up he actually was. Zeke was an indifferent runner, and he was getting kind of flabby, but he wanted to see too. They started off slow, real slow, just a little airborne shuffle, but pretty soon Daniel had to hold down his pace. After about a mile, Zeke slowed to a walk, huffing.
“Go on, man. I’m out of shape. I’ll make the circuit at my own speed.”
Daniel nodded, then took off at an easy run. Soon he was feeling really good, kind of floating. Runner’s high, he guessed. The second mile took him around past the cabin, and he kept on going, waving at Spooky looking out the upper barn window. He sped up again, stretching out. He breathed deeply and easily, and felt like he used to, before the explosion that broke his body. Better, even. He felt like he was in his teens again, qualifying for track and field. He might have had a shot at the Olympics if he hadn’t enlisted in a fit of patriotic fervor. He was pretty sure he was running at nearly a four-minute-mile pace.
Fantastic. Whatever the downside, this makes it all worthwhile.
He lapped Zeke in the next quarter-mile, blasting past him to the cabin, then jogging back, cooling down. He walked the last couple of hundred yards along with Zeke.
Zeke looked at him sideways, like he had two heads. “Holy crap. Holy crap,” he kept repeating.
“I try not to put those words together anymore, but I agree with the sentiment,” Daniel answered dryly. “I am a bit hungry, about what I expected. And thirsty.” He ran his head under the outside water pump, then took a bunch of swallows. It tasted metallic. He pumped it a few more times for Zeke, then they walked over to the barn to see what Spooky was doing.
Inside, they found another vehicle, a Toyota SUV, and another, younger man of about twenty-five. He was talking to Spooky, and looked a lot like him, at least to Daniel’s eyes. He was saved from a charge of racial insensitivity by the introduction.
“Vinny Nguyen,” the man said as he stuck out his hand.
Spooky gave him a glare.
“Or Nguyen Van Vinh, if you ask honorable Uncle-san here.”
Double glare.
“I work tech and IT for Brownstone.” At Daniel’s blank look he went on, “The security contractor. Uncle Spoo-”
Spooky lashed out like a striking snake, to slap Vinny on the back of the head. “You have not earned the right to call me that,” he said harshly.
“Uncle Tran Pham,” Vinny started again, heavily, with a careful sideways look at his elder, “called me last night and said I’d be helping out. With something. Which he hasn’t explained yet. Nor has he told me how much it pays, or how long the job is, or anything that normal people get to know when they do a job.” He crossed his arms to glare back at Tran.