Rotters_Alpha Contact Page 10

  He tossed it back to Xiou and added, “Those things will kill you.”

  “Many things may kill you,” Xiou replied, inhaling deeply. “Enjoy the small things while you still live.”

  “Speaking of that, you don’t happen to have any scotch with you?” Jerry queried hopefully.

  “No, Agent Foster, though if I had expected you, it might have been otherwise,” Xiou suggested. He did offer them each a bottle of water, which they all gratefully accepted.

  A short time later, his men returned. They spoke animatedly in Chinese, with many hand gestures, and much pointing back towards the village.

  “You don’t speak Chinese, do you?” Jerry quietly asked Vogan.

  “No,” he whispered back.

  Xiou rejoined them. “It seems you were correct, Doctor Vogan. My thanks for your warning. We will not enter the village.”

  “So, you will release us?” Vogan asked hopefully.

  “Not yet,” Xiou answered. He walked away to confer with his men.

  Ten minutes passed, and then fifteen. One of the sentries shouted a warning, and then Madduk had returned. He strode into the circle, and stood bent over, his hands on his hips. The guide was soaked with sweat, and breathing very hard. He gulped down some water, and spoke between ragged breaths. “Keve will not come.”

  “What?” Xiou demanded.

  “I spoke to one of his men; they had left him behind to die,” Madduk explained. “He had been bitten, and was very sick. Keve will not come. Haet-Mombou is Umbgawa.” He made a cutting motion across his throat. “It is cut off; forbidden; taboo.”

  “I must speak to him!” Xiou raged.

  “No Congolese will come here now,” Madduk countered. “It is death! The sickness is very great. We must flee! Now. Before it is too late!”

  Xiou paced back and forth, pondering the situation. He shouted an order in Chinese. One of his men rushed forward and brought him a small pack. The man opened it and pulled out a satellite phone.

  “Don’t activate that!” Vogan shouted.

  Xiou gave him an annoyed look and motioned to his man. The soldier snapped up his rifle and forced Vogan back at gun-point. The man shouted a harsh order in Chinese; Jerry was pretty sure it meant shut-up.

  Chapter 10

  07:57 p.m. Zulu

  Outside the Village of Gatou

  The Congo

  Xiou spoke into the satellite phone for a good minute before his sentries facing the village began to shout, and then rapidly for another thirty seconds before they opened fire.

  “It’s the cadavers!” Vogan shouted. “I’m right! The communications equipment is attracting them,” he shouted excitedly. He jumped up and down like a three-year-old kid.

  Xiou hastily stuffed the phone back into its bag and shouted orders to his men. The roar of a half-dozen AK-47’s firing simultaneously drowned out his words, so Xiou began to point towards the forest and push everyone ahead of him.

  Jerry was only too happy to go. As they fled into the trees, the Chinese soldiers behind them stayed and fought a rear guard action, allowing them to escape. Jerry heard at least one high-pitched scream as the gun-fire faltered and died away to a few stuttering last rounds.

  Madduk led the way east, away from Gatou. They ran for their lives, and Jerry began to falter. Vogan and Angel each grabbed an arm and pulled him along.

  After a few minutes, Xiou slowed them back to a walk. Some of his men fanned out as before. Xiou looked back from time to time. Finally, three of the six Special Forces who had remained behind caught up to the group. One of them spoke briefly to Xiou; he shook his head each time Xiou asked him a question. Xiou cursed in Chinese and English.

  “Where are we going?” Jerry asked the angry leader.

  “To our base camp,” Xiou replied. “It will be dark very soon.”

  “Where is your camp?” Vogan asked.

  “You will see soon enough,” Xiou answered.

  They pushed on through the rapidly darkening forest. Jerry did not relish the thought of being caught in the forest after dark again. He cursed his luck, and wished he was back in Kinshasa a hundred times. He was dead on his feet, and literally starving. He wasn’t sure how much longer he could go on. Angel was forced to help him along.

  Several of the soldiers broke out flashlights and guided the column onward. They encountered no more of the dead as they progressed through the giant trees. After several hours, the column turned to the north again. Without warning, they emerged from the forest and stood on the banks of the Congo River. Jerry could dimly see lights a short distance away. One of the soldiers yelled, and someone hailed him back. The lights began to draw closer, and then Jerry realized that a large flatboat was pulling close to the shore.

  One by one, the party jumped aboard. Jerry almost lost his footing and went into the dark water, but as always, Angel saved him, and snatched him onto the boat.

  The Chinese directed them to the back of the raft, where they were placed under the guard of a dour, hard-eyed Chinese soldier who watched them like a hawk. They all collapsed gratefully to the hard wooden deck as the raft pulled away from the shore.

  A bent old Congolese brought them small ceramic cups of steaming hot tea, and tin plates of cooked fish and rice. The three men tucked into the food; no one spoke as they ate. Angel wagged a finger at the cook, and passed him a small coin. The old man brought them more.

  Jerry let his guide eat most of the fish. He relaxed a little, and sipped his tea. The Chinese might kill him later, but for now, they apparently planned to keep him alive. He looked around him in the fading light. The raft had a native crew. He knew that boats like this were common on the Congo. The river was the main line of trade in the country; the only other means of transportation was by truck or on the native people’s backs.

  The Chinese were assembled near the bow. They, too, were having tea and rice. Jerry assumed that they were safe enough for now; he didn’t think the cadavers could swim.

  He dropped his voice to talk to the others. He was betting that their guard didn’t speak English.

  “What do we do now?” Jerry asked.

  “I vote we go to sleep,” Angel voiced.

  “We need to escape,” Jerry urged.

  “Well, that might pose a problem,” Vogan explained. “We can’t go into the river; it’s full of crocodiles.”

  “Yes, Jerry, they would love to eat a fat, white man; you would be a great delicacy to them,” Angel laughed.

  “Ha, ha, very funny,” Jerry growled back. “You’re so big there isn’t a place a croc could get his jaws around you.”

  “Ahem,” Vogan cleared his throat. “We were discussing an escape plan.”

  “Well, we can’t take over the boat. There are too many of them,” Jerry pointed out.

  “We could wait until they go to sleep and then try to overpower our guard,” Angel suggested.

  “He doesn’t look very sleepy,” Vogan pointed out.

  “I’m not,” the guard said in perfect English.

  “I am so sorry,” Vogan replied. “I didn’t realize you spoke English.”

  The guard frowned at them. “Of course I speak English. Don’t you speak Chinese?”

  “No, sorry,” Vogan offered.

  “Typical Americans,” the guard grunted.

  “I do speak French, and K’tuba, and some Pygmy,” Vogan added in his defense.

  “Don’t try to escape,” the guard warned them. “I will shoot you. It’s safer on the boat anyway.”

  Xiou came back and spoke briefly to the guard. They both laughed, then Xiou addressed Jerry, “Agent Foster, please do not attempt anything heroic. I would feel terrible if you came to harm. You are my guests. Please sleep. We will talk again in the morning.” The Chinese agent walked away chuckling softly.

  The old Congolese brought them thin woven reed mats, some old smelly blankets, and greasy pillows to sleep on. Angel and Vogan immediately stretched out and fell asleep.

  It was
a long time before Jerry finally slumbered.

  Jerry awoke to the smell of hot tea. Angel and Vogan sat nearby, sipping theirs from the small cups. A steel pot sat nearby; steam rose from its spout. A different guard stood a short distance away, watching them, his AK-47 cradled in his arms. Jerry stretched and moved over to join the others. Angel tossed him a small orange, and then a banana. Vogan poured him a cup of tea, and passed it to him.

  “Good morning,” the biologist said. “I don’t think this guard speaks English.”

  “Don’t bet on it,” Jerry warned. He ate his fruit and sipped his tea. Before he was finished, one of the soldiers came back and said, “Xiou wants to speak to you. All of you.”

  He led them forward, where the remaining soldiers were assembled at the bow of the raft. They turned to look at the Americans and Angel. They did not seem too unfriendly, just distrustful and suspicious. Madduk sat to one side, quartering an orange and casting the peelings over the side. Xiou came forward to join them all. He turned to face Jerry.

  “It seems that we have much to talk about, Agent Foster.” He snapped his fingers. Two Chinese came forward with a large burlap sack. They dumped its contents out upon the deck. A rotted human torso, legs and arms, severed hands and feet, and a badly decomposed head rolled out onto the hardwood with a meaty thump. All the pieces twitched and moved about, independent of each other. One of the hands lay palm up, its bony fingers grasping, the other scuttled about like an obscene rotten spider. The head clamped its jaws spasmodically, snapping at the deck. A foul smell came from the whole suppurated mess.

  “Sweet…” Jerry coughed, backing away from the animated remains. Madduk leapt to his feet and retreated to the rear of the raft. Everyone pulled back in fear; only Vogan moved closer, staring at the remains in absolute fascination.

  “You guys didn’t cut it up, did you?” he asked.

  “No, Doctor Vogan,” Xiou answered. “It fell apart, but as you can plainly see, even the pieces retain their animation.”

  The hand scuttled towards Vogan. The biologist kicked it back into the pile of less mobile pieces.

  Xiou continued. “Even the pieces seem able to sense us. My medical officer tells me this is a blatant impossibility, aside from the fact that the tissue is dead in the first place. Explain this to me.”

  “The virus reanimates the tissue, and it somehow uses electro-magnetic field manipulation to sense us,” Vogan explained. “But I didn’t expect this! Independent control of disparate pieces. This is just crazy!”

  “It is not natural,” Xiou proclaimed. “I believe the CIA has done this. These undead are a CIA project!”

  No one spoke for a moment, then Vogan turned to Jerry. “That’s not true, is it?”

  The agent shook his head vigorously. “No! I swear it! Even the company wouldn’t do anything this obscene. What purpose would it serve? The DRC is already within our sphere of influence! It would be counterproductive to our goals. Killing everyone would only serve someone who was already immune to the virus!” Jerry went on the attack and pointed at Xiou. “You guys would benefit from this! If the whole region is destabilized, and everyone is dead, then you could walk right in! You did this! You are after the cobalt ore! You want Blue Mountain!”

  Xiou looked at the CIA agent coldly. “We would never do something this abhorrent!” He looked at the jiggling remains and shuddered. “This is blasphemy!”

  Vogan stepped between them and calmly spoke. “Weren’t you guys listening to me? This virus has a historical precedent in this region! The Pygmies had seen it before, Angel’s people knew of it. It is in the oral records! This isn’t something new; it’s just new to modern man! It is natural. I believe the virus is just crossing a species barrier, like the bird-flu in China. Think for a damn minute!”

  Jerry and Xiou stopped to listen.

  “Put aside your political and cultural differences for a moment! Put aside your damn agendas! Think of what is best for both your countries, and for Africa! For the people here,” Vogan added.

  “Ask Xiou why they are here,” Jerry demanded.

  “We have the same right to be here that you do,” Xiou countered.

  Neither man spoke for a moment.

  Vogan looked from one agent to the other. “What is Blue Mountain, Jerry?”

  “Yes, Agent Foster, tell us of Blue Mountain,” Xiou prompted.

  Jerry knew he wasn’t giving anything away: the Chinese knew all about it.

  “Blue Mountain is the richest cobalt deposit in the world,” Jerry explained. “It’s right here in the Haet-Mombou district.”

  “And the Americans want it all for themselves,” Xiou stated.

  “Of course we do!” Jerry agreed. “Almost all cobalt ore is derived as a by-product of copper ore refinement. It is never found as a free element; it’s always mixed within some other mineral matrix, but not the cobalt at Blue Mountain. It’s almost one-hundred percent pure. Such a deposit is unbelievably rare and incredibly valuable. Its ramifications for electronics are staggering! The Chinese have been using espionage to map out the locations of the most valuable cobalt deposits for some time now. Satellite surveillance is impossible in the Congo,” Jerry added smugly.

  “You have no right to all the cobalt!” Xiou declared. “What gives you that right? Just because you were here first? White, imperialist dogs!”

  “Spare me,” Jerry shot back. “We’re both in the Congo.”

  “We should put all of you out,” Angel growled. “White, yellow, it makes no difference; you are both thieves. Jerry, I am most disappointed.”

  “It’s business, Angel, nothing personal,” Jerry responded. “You knew I was CIA when I hired you.”

  “I see now why the Kindu have awakened,” Angel rumbled. “Perhaps I am wrong to strive against them.”

  “You stupid mother-fuckers! Fighting amongst yourselves!” Vogan shouted. He pointed down to the wriggling pieces of cadaver squirming across the deck. “That’s the real enemy, right there. The virus. Not the mess it made of that poor bastard. He used to be a man, like us, remember? That virus could kill everyone on this planet! I’ve never seen anything like this. Most viruses have to be transmitted through physical contact, and once the host dies, the virus dies with it. Not this one! Look at it! Cadavers will literally carry that virus across this entire continent, and from there, on to the Middle East, Asia, and Europe. The oceans won’t stop it! Deserts won’t stop it. Mountains won’t stop it. Death itself won’t stop it! We can’t let it out of the Congo; we have to stop it! Here and now! Us!” The biologist finally wound down, out of breath.

  Everyone stared at the writhing pieces and considered Vogan’s warning.

  Jerry finally spoke up. “Xiou, I propose a temporary truce. Let’s pool our resources and try to figure out the virus. No one will be able to mine the cobalt if the region is quarantined.”

  “Give me the location of Blue Mountain,” Xiou countered.

  The agent hesitated, and then he decided. “You let me live, and let us go, and you’ve got a deal. We need each other. You’ve got the firepower and we’ve got the brains. But we fix the virus first, agreed?”

  “Agreed.”Xiou smiled. He extended his hand and Jerry shook it. Neither one trusted the other, and they both knew it.

  “Can I have my communications gear back please?” Jerry asked. “And maybe some clean clothes.”

  Attention of Regional Supervisor - Central Africa

  Case 5-8G Additional

  Attached is video feed of reanimated cadaver obtained near Gatou, Haet-Mombou District, verifying earlier reports of reanimation of dead human tissue

  Due to the region’s strategic importance, I highly recommend company analysis of footage

  Currently in secure area, awaiting your reply

  FA Foster - Gatou, DRC

  Chapter 11

  09:25 a.m. Zulu

  On the Congo River

  The Congo

  Jerry closed the SPC Array, and powered it
down. Xiou stood beside him; he had observed his report, and allowed Jerry to do the same. Both men had sent video footage of the cadaver and urged some action on the parts of their respective governments. Now they would wait. Jerry assumed that it would take some time for the agency to verify the authenticity of the video, and that the same would be true for the Chinese. Neither government would be immediately helpful.

  Xiou confided that he had sent only guarded references of the reanimation to his superiors; just enough to claim he had reported it, but not enough to seem unbelievable.

  Jerry could appreciate walking that fine line.

  The Chinese sealed the cadaver parts inside an empty metal fuel drum, and set it off by itself. Jerry tried to ignore the occasional thumping noises the body parts made. The old Congolese dumped boiling water on the deck to wash away the stinking black stains.

  Even though they had agreed to work together, the men still stood apart by nationality. The Chinese soldiers stood in the bow, smoking and talking in low voices. Angel and Madduk did the same.

  Vogan, Jerry, and Xiou had pulled together a small folding table and chairs, and were looking over maps of the region, trying to estimate the potential spread of the virus. Vogan calculated the rough speed of the cadavers, and began to estimate a probable range of dispersion. He picked up a red pencil and drew a rough circle on the map.

  “We still have a chance to stop this,” he concluded. “The population of this area of the Congo is rural, mostly small villages. But the virus will spread exponentially once it hits a denser population area. I’m assuming that it did not reach Junta. The quarantine was set on our side of the river.”

  “We observed panic there, but it may have been caused by forced evacuations,” Jerry concluded. “We can’t be sure.”

  “Can you obtain satellite photos of the city?” Xiou asked.

  “I can request them, but I doubt the agency will assist me until they decide on the video,” Jerry answered.