"No. But there is another factor. Something else at play. It comes back to this parasite they have developed. You seem to know these two men better than I. What do you think?"
She ran a hand through her short dark hair, huffed, and then answered, "Waters is crazy. He's probably just having fun messing around with this organism. I don't think reason plays much of a factor in it. Monroe, well, he was an idealist who got more and more radical. Maybe he's frustrated. Maybe he really thinks he's doing right."
"Or maybe," Gant said quietly, "these two make the perfect puppets for someone's bigger game."
"What do you mean?"
"You have been listening. You heard. It is obvious that the fungus parasite did not originate with them. They got it from someone and have modified it, sure, but this all started as someone else's idea."
"Another government?"
"Maybe. Possibly. I do not know. The source of this parasite is the key. Since we got here, we have been given the impression that these two created an infection to serve a specific purpose; in this case, a radical idea to support the environment by reducing population."
"Okay, so?"
"What if we have the order of things wrong. What if they discovered this organism first and have simply found a convenient excuse to deploy it."
"Isn't that the cart before the horse?" She asked.
"Yes, but that is human nature. Waters is clearly obsessive, and would play around with anything like this, regardless of ultimate goals. What you said about his research in Africa is proof of that. He is the poster child for doing something for no reason other than that you can."
"And Monroe?"
"Also obsessive, but around an idea; a movement. Probably easy to manipulate."
She asked, "So what do we do about it?"
He shrugged and said, "We survive, Dr. Stacy, as best we can, and along the way we do anything we can do to disrupt their plan."
"I think Waters plans on putting us through a test or two. We may not get a chance."
"Yes, well," Gant considered. "You probably have a point."
"Look here, look at this," Waters spoke excitedly. "This is the fastest turnaround yet!"
Gant and Stacy stood, although Thom felt a bolt of pain in his knee as he did.
The female zombie — Miss Clemons — wandered about the room, bumping into walls like a toy robot programmed to switch directions when encountering an obstacle. Since killing Costa, she had not paid the body any attention.
Costa, however, had undergone a transformation. What had once been a member of the Secret Service was now something else. The corpse staggered to its feet and stood fairly tall and straight, mimicking the posture of the human being who had formerly controlled that body.
His eyes, however, now matched Miss Clemons's in color, and a bulging white sphere the size of a golf ball protruded from his chin where his attacker had bitten off a chunk of flesh.
"Nine minutes!" Waters shouted and turned to Monroe. "Time from death to animation has dropped by more than fifty minutes since our first test runs! This is incredible."
Monroe said, "With the counter-agent effective and the propagation models turning out to be conservative compared to the field applications, we should be ready for the third round of testing. The sponsors have already suggested a target."
"With the rate things are proceeding, that animation time lapse may drop further." Waters faced the two prisoners and said. "We'll see how the next batch of tests go."
Monroe put a hand on Waters's shoulder and told him, "I'm going to chopper over to the mainland this evening and arrange a meeting with our contacts to update them on our progress. We need more data on the blocking serum. That is of critical importance."
"You will have it by tomorrow afternoon."
"Good. I'll be back by then and will expect a full report."
Gant could see that the two men had been so enthralled by Costa's fast transformation that they had essentially forgotten about the prisoners in the room. That changed.
Terrance Monroe stepped over to Thom and told him, "At this point, Major Gant, I believe any further inquiries into your situation would be pointless. As for you, Dr. Stacy, I'm sorry that someone as intelligent as you is caught up in all of this."
"I could say the same about you."
Monroe took it in stride.
"I'm sorry that something so horrible as this has to happen, but sometimes you have to make hard choices for the greater good. Goodbye."
Terrance Monroe left the room.
Waters approached the two prisoners.
"You will be taken to a place where you can rest."
"Can we get some food? Something to drink?" Gant asked as he realized his stomach was completely empty.
"Of course. You need your energy, Major. Tomorrow is going to be a big day for you."
17
General Albert Friez wore his class A blue dress uniform complete with hat and sat on a military-chartered Learjet flying west fast enough to stay ahead of nightfall.
A few members of his staff sat in other seats, most reading magazines or working on laptops and computer pads. Friez gazed out the window, catching a glimpse here and there through the clouds of the American Great Plains passing below.
Sights like that one that made the enormity of his job and responsibilities hit home. Down there and stretching for miles sat the United States of America and a population of over three hundred million souls. Beyond that, billions more around the globe.
They went to work, lived their lives, and grew old never knowing the tenuous nature of their existence.
The events at Red Rock a few months ago had emphasized that point. A powerful entity — or rather, a powerful entity under the control of a sick man — had nearly been loosed upon the Earth. Given the events inside the "Hell Hole," the entire world might have been turned into a demon's playground.
On top of that, Friez's people had captured alien creatures invading our airspace and dealt with all manner of scientific monstrosities run amok, without the public ever knowing exactly how many nightmares waited out there, ready to pounce.
We stand on the line between what they know and what they fear.
"What's that, General?"
Friez responded to Lieutenant Colonel Thunder's voice on the other end of his cell phone. He added a sharp tone in his reply meant to admonish himself for allowing his thoughts to drift in the midst of an update.
"I asked, have we figured out anything more in regard to the island's ownership?"
Thunder must have relayed that information while he was daydreaming because her response contained a tone of her own. He liked that about her — no sucking up. It was his fault for being distracted, so, yes, he did deserve a dose of his own medicine.
"It's a management company with three partners. That big-bucks software developer William Fencer along with an actress and a producer. They bought Tioga about fifteen years ago from a rather poor South Pacific island nation that was more than willing to give up territorial rights in exchange for cash. I think you know the rest. They built a resort and it's an exclusive club for the ultra-rich and powerful."
"What about the mining equipment?"
"This is where things get curious, General. I spoke with the two partners who are stateside. They said they were paid a lot of money by a company who wanted to mine and study the volcano. Corporal Sanchez and I spent most of the day today trying to run down who that was and what they were doing. Everything was a dead end."
"And the volcano was not considered a danger?"
Thunder said, "I have a call into the USGS. They are checking their data and will get back to me. On the other hand, the island's ownership knew that there has always been the possibility of an eruption and that there was subterranean activity. The feeling was that there was magma moving around in there and the possibility of release that might require evacuation or relocation, but the private geologist they kept on staff assured them that there was no danger of a significant eruption, although steam venting was common. Of course, we're pretty sure he was killed on the island today."