Rotters_Alpha Contact Page 4

  “I have no papers,” Angel rumbled.

  “We need to see the local government official or the commanding officer of this Army unit,” Jerry implored. “It is vitally important.”

  “You are seeing him,” the officer shot back.

  “We need assistance, transport back to Kinshasa,” Jerry pleaded. “I am investigating the disappearance of foreign workers, US citizens, and I have vital information about the viral outbreak here. It is important that I return to the capital at once,” Jerry concluded.

  “No one may pass this point,” the officer calmly replied.

  “But as I explained, I must return to Kinshasa,” Jerry countered.

  “You are attempting to leave a quarantined area, if you do so, you will be shot,” the officer stated, a grim smile on his face.

  “Someone from my government should have contacted you,” Jerry pleaded.

  “Yes, that is true, Mr. Foster, but we are a long way from the United States, and I have more important things to do today than assist more stupid, meddling white men. Good day!” the officer growled. He turned to walk away.

  “Wait!” Jerry shouted. “Did you say more stupid white men? Was someone else here before us?”

  The officer drew up short. He turned and walked two steps back. “Yes, another stranger came from the forest, just as you, earlier this morning. He, too, insisted that I help him, that he must leave and that he had vital information about the sickness. There was always sickness and death here, you stupid foreigners know not a thing. Now leave, go back to where ever it is you came from! Go!” he shouted as he turned and walked away.

  “What was the white man’s name, Colonel? Please tell me!” Jerry implored.

  The colonel didn’t look back, but he shouted over his shoulder, “His name was Vogan, Doctor Vogan.”

  “Fuck me,” Jerry cursed. “This just keeps getting better.”

  Jerry and Angel retreated well back down the road, until they could no longer hear the sounds of the town in the distance. Jerry tried to fend off Angel’s questions.

  “What now?” Angel inquired.

  “I’m thinking,” Jerry shot back. He stopped and stood in the road, rubbing his forehead. “Man, I’m gonna’ end up with a migraine if things don’t start going a little better,” he moaned.

  “Who is this man, Vogan, the Colonel spoke of?” Angel asked.

  Jerry said his name like a curse. “Vogan is a biologist. He is famous for his work to save the rainforests.”

  “And you do not like this man?” Angel posed.

  “I don’t disagree with his work, just his methods,” Jerry replied.

  Angel looked at Jerry quizzically, obviously not satisfied with his answer. “And?” he prodded.

  “Look, you’ve never met the bastard. He’s just so fucking superior. He’s so righteous; I can’t stand that cock sucker!” Jerry shot back.

  “So, you know him,” Angel stated.

  “Oh yeah, I know him. We met at a UN conference years ago. He gave a lecture on how the Congo needed to be closed to all logging immediately. He was working the room afterwards. I said something to the effect that it wasn’t possible to just stop progress and he jumped in my ass with both feet. It got a little personal,” Jerry explained.

  “I see,” Angel responded.

  “Vogan’s a really brilliant guy; you can’t win an argument with him. He’ll maneuver you into a corner and make you sound like an idiot. He’s an arrogant asshole.” Jerry continued, “I really hate him.”

  “Was there something more at this conference?” Angel inquired.

  Jerry didn’t answer immediately. “Maybe, there might have been. I don’t remember,” he dissembled. “Why do you ask?”

  “You sound very bitter,” Angel observed. “This man must have offended you deeply.”

  “He made me look like an idiot in front of a room full of UN delegates,” Jerry said. “Aside from all that, we’re on really friendly terms.”

  “Well, that is in the past,” Angel observed. “And, now he is out there in the jungle. Maybe you’ll get lucky and he will catch the sickness and die a horrible, lingering death, as he so richly deserves.”

  “No, that would be bad,” Jerry countered. “Unfortunately, we need to find him and see what he knows about the virus.”

  Angel laughed quietly.

  “What’s so funny?” Jerry asked.

  “Sometimes I think you are very unlucky, my friend,” Angel observed.

  “Yeah, me too,” Jerry agreed.

  They began to look for Vogan. Angel slowly began to walk along the track, pausing now and then to look carefully at the ground.

  “Do you really think you can find him out here?” Jerry asked incredulously.

  “Yes, my friend,” Angel answered. “He is a white man. He will be wearing expensive boots with a very distinctive tread, and they will be a size ten or so. He will walk like a white man, and tread heavily. Look behind us at the tracks we leave,” the guide suggested.

  Jerry stopped and looked back. His boot tracks were easy to see, while Angel who easily weighed twice as much as him, left almost no trace at all.

  “How do you do that?” the agent asked.

  “Black magic,” Angel suggested. “I am one with the forest. I am the smoke from the fire, I am…”

  “Alright, I get it, asshole,” Jerry interrupted him. “You’re light on your fucking feet.”

  Angel laughed, “Damn it, Jerry, you sound like my second wife. Never interrupt a Bantu when he is bragging, it is very bad form.”

  Angel slowly worked his way down the road. His patience was finally rewarded. He pointed out a set of deep boot prints in the mud where Vogan had left the road and struck out into the forest; even Jerry could have found them.

  “Where is he headed?” the agent mused.

  “He will have to make for Bumma; it is the closest town with any services,” Angel finally deduced.

  “How far?” Jerry asked.

  “Very far, three hundred kilometers,” the guide replied thoughtfully. “But he will try to find a boat to take him; it is too far to walk, and there are many villages on the river.”

  “We need to catch up to him quickly, before he gets too far,” Jerry stated. “I want to bring Bob back and fly out, as soon as possible, but we need to bring Vogan with us.”

  “I don’t think Bob’s plane will carry all of us, boss,” Angel warned.

  “I guess we’ll find out,” Jerry agreed.

  They followed the tracks deep into the forest. Angel set a grueling pace, and Jerry did his best to keep up and not complain, but he was soon winded and began to fall behind.

  Angel paused to let him catch up. “Your friend is not making for Bumma.”

  “Huh?” Jerry panted. “Where in the hell is he going then?”

  “I do not know, but he leading us back towards Gatou, north and east. Perhaps he is lost,” Angel suggested.

  “I doubt it,” the agent replied. “He’s too fucking smart for that. We’ll ask him once we catch him.”

  The pair pressed on. Angel had to pause occasionally to find the tracks, but he stayed on their man’s trail. An hour passed, then two. They had traveled deep into the rain forest. The massive trees marched away from them in all directions, forming deep corridors of black trunks that ended in gloomy dark shadows. The canopy overhead completely shut out the sun and wind. Jerry began to feel a bit claustrophobic.

  He and Angel had become separated; the agent was having trouble keeping up. He could barely see his guide moving through the trees far ahead. Jerry walked a little faster.

  He cursed Vogan for leading them on this wild goose chase through the jungle. Thoughts of Stanley and Livingston flashed through his mind. His meeting with Vogan would not be so polite and cordial.

  “Jerry!” Angel yelled for him through the trees.

  The agent forced himself to hurry onward. He careened around a massive tree trunk and almost ran into Angel’s back. They
had found Vogan. The smug bastard was standing right in front of him, smoking a cigarette with Angel; they casually passed it back and forth, chatting like old friends. Vogan hadn’t changed a bit. He was still six foot of tanned muscular asshole with a full head of curly blond hair and a brilliant, perfectly white smile. He looked completely comfortable and reasonably clean in his khaki pants and safari shirt. The bastard wasn’t even sweating. Jerry hated him even more.

  “Agent Foster, fancy meeting you here, of all places.” Vogan smiled.

  Jerry stood bent over, huffing for breath. “Whatever,” he coughed.

  Angel admonished Jerry. “Vogan is not a cock-sucker at all, Jerry; he seems quite an affable fellow.”

  “Thank you, I guess,” Vogan replied.

  Jerry stood upright and glared at them both, “Doctor Vogan, we need to talk. As distasteful as it may be to both of us, we need to work together.”

  “Why would it be distasteful?” Vogan asked.

  “Because of the conference,” Jerry stated.

  “What conference?” Vogan asked.

  “The UN conference on logging in the Congo, a few years back. Remember, we were both there? We argued in the bar,” Jerry demanded.

  “Oh that. I’m sorry, I had forgotten. I argue with everyone,” Vogan replied.

  Jerry glared at him. The bastard didn’t even remember their argument.

  “You were saying?” Vogan solicited.

  “I came here to look for some loggers who went missing from Gatou, and when we got there, we found the villagers were sick. I had received reports of a viral outbreak before I left Kinshasa,” Jerry began.

  “What did the report say?” Vogan asked eagerly.

  “Not much,” Jerry answered. “Some deaths were reported, nothing specific. As I was saying…”

  “Would you two like tea?” Angel inquired. He sat down his pack and began to set up his stove.

  “Yes,” Vogan replied to Angel. “The report didn’t say anything about strange symptoms of the virus?” he continued.

  “No,” Jerry answered. “I didn’t think much about the report; I get them all the time. I was more concerned with the missing loggers.”

  “Your loggers are dead,” Vogan reported flatly.

  “Are you sure?” Jerry asked. “Did you see their bodies?”

  “No,” Vogan replied. “But I can assure you, everyone within twenty kilometers of Gatou is dead.”

  Angel looked up in concern.

  “Bullshit,” Jerry retorted. “Angel and I were just at Gatou yesterday. The villagers appeared sick, but they were very much alive.”

  “Did you enter the village?” Vogan asked quickly.

  “No, we didn’t. Angel didn’t feel it was safe,” Jerry replied.

  “Your guide saved your life,” Vogan said with a nod towards Angel. “If you had gone in, you would both be dead now. The villagers you saw there are dead. They were dead when you saw them yesterday.”

  “No, they were not,” Jerry replied. “As I said, they appeared sick, but they were still moving about the village when we were there.”

  “Their bodies were still moving about,” Vogan corrected him. “But I assure you they were all quite dead.”

  No one spoke for a few seconds.

  “You speak of the Kindu, the old ones,” Angel offered. “Those stories are just a myth, told to frighten young children.” He handed each of the men a cup of tea.

  “What are you talking about, Angel?” Jerry asked.

  The big guide spoke hesitantly. “It is a story among my people. When the gods are angry, they send storms and the Kindu to punish men. The Kindu are the dead, returned to life to slay the living. These are only old stories the ancients tell; they are only myths.”

  “This virus is no myth,” Vogan warned them. “It is something entirely new to me. The physiological response it produces in infected tissues is beyond anything I had ever imagined possible.”

  “Pretend for a second that I am not a biologist,” Jerry growled. “Try to remember that I’m just an ignorant math major. Explain what is happening in plain English.”

  “Alright,” Vogan replied. “This virus is something new to humans. I am quite sure it has crossed species through some unintended contact, or new vector. The virus kills its human host outright and then reanimates the body, using it as a vehicle to aggressively spread the virus among the host species: us.”

  “What?” Jerry finally choked out in reply.

  “I must admit, I myself was entirely skeptical of this finding until I had verified it. I don’t expect you to take my word for my findings. I will prove them to you,” Vogan offered.

  “Wait a second, you’ll what?” Jerry blurted out.

  “I’ll prove to you that the virus reanimates dead human tissue,” Vogan offered. “If you will help me warn the US government about its lethality.”

  Jerry shook his head in disbelief, “What are you even doing out here?” the agent inquired suspiciously. “Where were you going before we caught up to you?”

  “I was in this region doing research into a natural paralytic substance the natives use to hunt. I have hopes it may be a natural alternative to chemically-induced anesthesia. I was in the Haet-Mombou when the virus broke loose. I assure you I only survived because of the warnings of the Pygmies I have befriended here.”

  “The Pygmies?” Jerry inquired.

  “Yes, the Pygmies are a very simple people. They have lived in the Congo for centuries and resisted the transition to modern life most of the other native peoples have made,” Vogan explained.

  “That is true,” Angel agreed. “The Pygmies are a most ignorant and backwards people.”

  “Luckily for us,” Vogan pointed out, “they have preserved much of the old knowledge and traditions of the region. They recognized the virus and came to warn me.”

  “The Pygmies know about the virus?” Jerry asked incredulously.

  “Yes,” Vogan exclaimed. “I was on my way to their village when you caught up to me. I hope their wise men may have knowledge that will help me combat the virus’ effects. I was turned away at the Junta Bridge when I went there to warn the government officials. The local government has established a quarantine, but it may spread much further if we don’t stop it. The virus has the capacity to become a pandemic. It is extremely dangerous.”

  “You are obviously wrong about the virus reanimating people,” Jerry insisted. “But I agree that it could be dangerous.”

  “If I prove my theory to you, will you help me?” Vogan asked.

  “Sure,” Jerry agreed. “Knock yourself out.”

  TO　THE　JOINT　CHIEFS　OF　STAFF　-　CODE　YELLOW　COMMUNIQUE.

  CIA　ANALYSIS　INDICATES　INCREASED　MILITARY　ACTIVITY　IN　THE　EASTERN　REGIONS　OF　THE　DRC,　POSSIBLY　IN　RESPONSE　TO　A　VIRAL　OUTBREAK　IN　THAT　REGION.　REBEL　MILITIA　ACTIVITY　ALSO　ON　THE　RISE,　WITH　SOME　DISRUPTION　OF　MINING　ACTIVITIES　PREDICTED.

  THIS　SITUATION　COULD　LEAD　TO　INTERRUPTION　OF　SCHEDULED　OUTPUT　OF　THE　FOLLOWING　MINERALS　CONSIDERED　VITAL　TO　NATIONAL　SECURITY:

  COBALT　-　CIA　DATA　REPORTS　80%　OF　GLOBAL　RESERVES　HELD　WITHIN　DRC　TERRITORIES.

  US　STRATEGIC　RESERVES　MARGINAL　AT　THIS　TIME.

  THIS　REGION　CURRENTLY　WITHIN　US　SPHERE　OF　INFLUENCE,　BUT　INCURSIONS　INTO　MINERAL　RESERVE　TERRITORY　BY　FOREIGN　NATIONAL　INTERESTS　HAVE　BEEN　REPORTED,　MAINLY　THROUGH　MATERIAL　SUPPORT　OF　REBEL　FORCES.

  COMMERCIAL　DIAMONDS　-　US　STRATEGIC　RESERVES　SUFFICIENT　AT　THIS　TIME.

  COPPER　-　US　STRATEGIC　RESERVES　SUFFICIENT　AT　THIS　TIME.

  REPORT　ENDS.

  Chapter 5

  06:05 p.m. Zulu

  The Congo

  Democratic Republic of the Congo

  Vogan hefted his pack and led the others west, through the giant mahogany trees. He seemed
to know where he was going.

  “Where is he leading us?” Jerry asked.

  “We are still going towards Gatou,” Angel answered.

  “I need to find a victim of the virus,” Vogan stated. “We’ll find one near the village.”

  They walked on through the trees. Jerry had a lot to think about.

  “What are the Kindu?” he asked Angel.

  “Nothing,” his guide replied, but the big man shuddered.

  “Tell me about them,” Jerry asked kindly. “I want to know.”

  “Very well,” Angel said. “When I was very small, an elder of my village told a tale of his youth, long, long ago. He spoke of the Kindu, the accursed dead. As I told you, they were a punishment from the gods. The dead would not remain dead; they roamed the forest, looking for warm flesh to tear and rend. It was said that their souls were trapped in their rotting bodies and could find no peace. In their anger, they slew the living, even their own kin. They broke the old taboo; they ate the flesh of men.”

  “We have ghost stories, too,” Jerry replied.

  Angel lowered his voice and added, “These were not stories told just to frighten children, Jerry. They were told as a warning. I have tried to forget them; they cannot be true.” He said no more.

  Vogan led them on until they reemerged on the track that led to Gatou. “I saw many of the villagers upon the road near here. We must be very careful,” he warned. “I don’t know much about their senses, but the Pygmies warned me that they will follow a living man for long distances, and that a single bite or scratch will kill. They say that there is no cure, only a sure restless death.”

  Jerry remained skeptical, but he would defer to Vogan’s warnings for now; he seemed serious enough.

  The men crept forward along the track, very close to the trees. As they approached the outskirts of the village, Vogan stopped them. He hid his pack in the trees and suggested to Angel that he do the same. Vogan pulled a short length of pipe from his gear, and brought out a leather pouch and a tapered plastic vial.