“It will not make us happy. We cannot interfere.”

“I know.”

So they had a front-row seat for the Daniel Markis road rally. They cheered as he started the sprayer and crashed through the fence; they pounded the dashboard as he cut off the pursuit and kept the mist going; they groaned when the truck rolled, and the helicopter landed. And they sweated as they watched the blue-wrapped bundle carried on a stretcher into the helicopter, both men wondering to themselves whether Markis was alive or dead.

-24-

Infection Day Minus One.

Elise Markis steered the bulk milk truck down the gravel track under the trees that line the little landing field outside of Athens, Georgia. She checked her watch. Ten minutes to go. She didn’t want to be too early; the less time sitting around, the less time for people to question her presence.

She pulled the truck over before the rough road broke out of the tree line, at the downwind end of the runway. Hopping out of the cab, she made a final check of the hose, the pump, and the fittings.

Elise looked up from her check as a single-engine, low-winged airplane roared overhead and landed lightly on balloon tires. It turned around and taxied toward her. She jumped back in the truck and drove out to the end of the runway, meeting the aircraft as it turned around and lined up for takeoff. As she pulled up, she looked over the plastic tanks, tubing and brass nozzles of the crop duster.

A much-younger-looking David Markis waved at her as he climbed down from the cockpit. My father-in-law. He looks so much like Daniel now he’s rejuvenated, Elise thought. She could see his expression was anything but happy, however, as he reached back in to drag a struggling figure out of the second seat. It looked like a woman, her mouth, hands and feet taped and her eyes wild with fear and anger.

“Sorry, I had to take her with me. She was too suspicious about me wanting to rent the plane.”

“It’s all right. I’ll deal with her.” At the bound woman’s muffled shriek, Elise reassured her. “You won’t be harmed, miss. And neither will anyone else. You probably think we’re terrorists but this stuff won’t hurt anyone. And I’m sure you’d love to argue about it but I don’t want to hear it right now.” She dragged the prisoner over to the truck cab and boosted her gently into it. From there she started the pump.

The senior Markis hooked up the hose fitting and quickly transferred the full capacity of five hundred gallons to the plane. As soon as he had it in, he unhooked and leaped back into the aircraft, taking off into the puffy clouds of the burning Georgia summer sky.

Once she had parked back in the trees, Elise looked over at the bound woman. “Look, I know you’re scared, but really, there’s nothing to worry about. If I take that tape off your mouth will you behave?”

The young woman nodded, wide-eyed.

Elise’s phone beeped at her. She looked at the incoming text, nodded in satisfaction, and then worked the tape gently off of the younger woman’s face, revealing a strong chin and defiantly furrowed brow. They stared at each other for a long moment.

“What’s your name, hon?”

“Janet Bills. You don’t look like a terrorist.”

“What does a terrorist look like?”

She squirmed uncomfortably. “I don’t know. Crazy eyes? Crazy talk?”

“Well, you happen to be right. I’m not a terrorist, we’re just doing something illegal. But it won’t hurt anyone, so don’t worry about it. In a couple of hours I’ll let you go and everything will be fine.”

“Where’s he going? In the plane?”

Elise pondered this for a moment, then decided it didn’t matter if she told her. Besides, it was going to be a long vigil if they couldn’t talk about something. “Sanford Stadium. Athens. There’s a big Prosperity Gospel revival thing going on, all those suckers that think they can name it and claim it so God will give them a new Mercedes and a new bass boat. Lots of offering plates pouring money into the preachers’ coffers, just proving how much money God is giving the faithful. Talk about your self-fulfilling prophecy – for the preachers. About seventy-five thousand people. And they paid ninety bucks a head for the ‘seminar,’ not counting the concessions. You do the math.”

“My father’s a pastor, and he said those people aren’t following God.”

Elise nodded. “I have to agree with you there, honey. Sounds like your father’s a good man.”

“So what is that guy going to do? What’s in the tanks?”

“What do you think it is?”

Janet thought for a moment. “I dunno…skunk stink? Some kind of dye? Like throwing blood on people that wear furs? I can’t think of anything else that wouldn’t hurt people.”

“Smart girl. Would you like a drink?” Elise hoped Janet wouldn’t notice she hadn’t actually confirmed her guess.

“Sure.”

Elise opened the juice bottle, and Janet drank with her taped-together hands.

“So how did you get into flying?”

“I just always wanted to fly, so in high school…”

Elise kept her talking until David came back. Then she cut the tape binding Janet’s hands and hopped out of the milk truck. When she had climbed into the second seat of the plane, she threw the truck keys down to the waiting young woman.

“There’s an envelope under the drivers’ seat with some money for the plane. You might not get it back. Have a nice drive, and sorry to inconvenience you. Oh, the truck kind of sticks in second.”

Janet nodded and waved, half a smile on her face.

They took off, winging their way northeastward. “I think you got a Stockholm buddy,” David said.

“What? Oh, you mean like Stockholm Syndrome? I held her hostage and now she likes me?”

“Yep.”

A pause. “So how did the spraying go?”

“Seventy-five thousand new converts. Just not quite the religion they expected,” laughed Markis.

“Yes, and tonight and tomorrow they’ll pass through the Atlanta airport and go back home to a thousand different places and then there’s no way they’ll be able to quarantine it.”

“Lord willing and the crick don’t rise. But they’ll try.”

Elise did not respond, lapsing into silence. She stared out the scratched and dirty cockpit as her thoughts closed in. Now that their task was over her husband was all she could think about. No matter how much he had protested and placated, she knew he did not expect to get away after his own piece of the plan in Los Angeles. If he did not show up at the rendezvous…well, she was no soldier, but the rest were. She told herself the men were frighteningly competent, and they would be able to rescue him.

If not now, then later. After the chaos. After tomorrow.

After Infection Day.

-25-

Daniel woke to the smell of disinfectant and lanolin. His cell was dim and clean, the narrow bed’s covers of ragged rough green wool with “US” printed here and there on them. He’d seen the same blankets in a few old barracks back when he’d been in the Army, though these days they had mostly migrated to the surplus stores. A naked steel toilet with no seat beckoned, and a sink with only one tap: no hot water. A roll of paper, in an incongruously cheerful green wrapper

Daniel struggled to a sitting position, finding himself unable to straighten. His right arm and shoulder were pain-free but twisted like a lightning-struck tree trunk. He stared at the strange crook in his forearm, shoving aside the surreal feeling. The limb was useless; the muscles were so misaligned he could barely close his hand. It reminded him of someone with cerebral palsy; he was half of Steven Hawking. He tried to remember if Hawking was still alive, and he said a little prayer that the Eden Plague would find him and free that amazing mind from the prison of his crippled body.