Eighteen Hells

From Eighteen Hells:

He pulled onto the gravel shoulder, and the Humvee stopped behind them and beamed a spotlight through the rear window. “Assholes. I’ll handle them. I’ll act innocent and say we’re not us.”

“They know who we are. That’s why they pulled us over.”

“Okay, okay. How about this – as soon they get outta that truck, I’ll peel out.”

She opened the door and climbed out. “Let’s do something unexpected. Nobody expects that.” She stalked back to the Humvee and thumped on the hood. “C’mon, let’s see a little action out here, boys!”

A soldier climbed from the driver’s seat. “Please don’t strike the vehicle, ma’am.”

“I’m Krista Warner, and I’ve got things to do! Hop to it!” She snapped her fingers. “C’mon, chop-chop!”

“Back away from the vehicle and stand by the side of the road, ma’am,” the soldier said. “We have orders to take you into protective custody. Please don’t make a fuss again.”

“The hell you will! Get your boss-man on the blower right now!” She crossed her arms and tapped her foot. “We’re gonna chew the fat, him and me, ya follow?”

He removed his helmet and scratched his head. “Not really.”

“Call Governor DaCosta, dummy! I’ve got important intelligence to pass on! Get the lead out of your ass, or I’ll put it in a sling!” The soldier blinked a few times but didn’t move. “I said MOVE IT, soldier!” she roared.

He ducked into the truck and spoke to someone inside, and he returned a moment later with a field radio. He stood by the roadside, talked into it for a minute, and then handed it to her. “This is Krista Warner,” she said.

“Warner?” a brusque voice asked. “Ric DaCosta. How are ya? Hang on…if they got tents, get ‘em up there, and get me some buttermilk now! …Okay, I’m back. This place is a madhouse. We got tsunamis all over the coast, zombies stumbling across the mountains, and a friggin glowing crater inbetween. What a country I gotta run, huh? Who do they think I am, William-friggin-Churchill?”

“What country?”

The other end of the line was silent for a moment. “Forget you heard that.”

“Wait, has California already seceded?”

“Keep this under your wig for the next three days, okay? Look, that party at the Fairgrounds was a show. The Legislature and Governor Rodriguez actually signed the Articles of Secession on October 1 in a secret session…Hey, I’m tawkin here! Keep it down!...so it’s all legal, and now I’m the Grand Poobah of the California Republic. You oughta see the big hat they gave me, the feathers are huge. Woo-hoo. You know I only took this job cuz Rodriguez needed the SoCal vote? Tawk about a raw deal, but hey – he was a world-class ass-kisser, bless his heart. But how’s that important to you? It’s not, so let’s move on. Now, you made it outta Sacramento, but you got some allergy to going someplace safe, right?”

“I’m not a drug mule, Governor. I didn’t bring the Recombin across the country just to get thrown in jail.”

“Hey, I had orders to grab you and that Lang kid back then. Rodriguez had some sorta weird deal with Cheyn. But whatever that was, it’s in the fossil farm now. Toes up, ticket punched, checked into the wooden Waldorf. Deal lasted as long as a hard-on in a nursing home. Things are different now, so let’s tawk. Find some common ground, forge a connection, hammer out a deal. First, how about the vaccine?”

“I’ve got it. Not with me, of course.”

“No, you got your head screwed on. Didn’t expect you’d carry it around. By the way, we got your plans, and we’re making some big whatchamacallits down in Torrey Pines, so two weeks max we can make this stuff. All we need is the vaccine now, so whaddaya want for it?”

“First, I want immunity from prosecution for any crimes committed by me, Ada Lang, and Mark Mason.”

“Like the hospital antics? Hey, that’s all clean, don’t do it again, hang on…No, I’m not giving any interviews! Tell them to come back after I have my psychotic break and I think tawkin to reporters is a good thing…yeah, that should be tomorrow at this rate. And where the hell’s my buttermilk? …Okay, I’m back, sorry, the place is berserk. And my ulcer – don’t bring it up, you don’t wanna know, but it’s gonna pop any minute. So yeah, don’t screw anything else up, and I’ll wipe the slate clean.”

“Second –”

“Blanket immunity’s not enough?”

“I’ve got the vaccine. You don’t. You’re in no position to negotiate.”

“Wow, that’s direct. I mean, I’m a movie producer, and I can tell you about direct, but you – right for the jugular. Ouch. But you got that Midtown accent, so you’re from New York, so I forgive you. You grew up in that shithole and survived, God knows you earned it. And hey, if you’re gonna screw me over, call me Ric. Screw jobs feel better if you pretend you’re friends. Okay, what’s your number two?”

“I want protection from Federal agents.”

“I’ll give you a lotta beef to escort you this time. How’s that work for ya? Hey, what happened to the guys I sent with you last time?”

“I don’t think they made it, Ric. We couldn’t find them after the place blew up, and things were crazy…”

The phone went silent for a few seconds, and then DaCosta cleared his throat. “Okay, we tawk about that, I’m gonna open a vein. Jesus, the thing burns a hole through my heart. When this is over, I’m going out to Seal Rock, gonna bawl my eyes out.”

“Can I come along?” Krista asked.

“Sure. You, me, a million others. But right now, I’ve got the living to take care of, thank god or I’d go nuts, so let’s move on. Hang on a sec…Buttermilk, people?…Oh, yeah, thanks.” He glugged down the milk and slammed the glass on an unseen table. “Ahh, buttermilk, the Mucus of the Gods. Where were we? I forget. I haven’t slept in two weeks, and the stress is killing me. Be lucky to make it to November. When I kick the fuckin bucket…pardon my Brooklynese…when I kick the friggin bucket, you’ll have to read my eulogy. You’re the only person in the state that doesn’t hate me. Everybody says I’m too tense. These people, I love ‘em, but this friggin sun gives them mellow-noma. So where were we?”

“You said you were giving me an escort.”

“Right. I’ll give you a whole fuckin…a whole friggin platoon. We got a deal?”

“Not yet. Now, third –”

“Holy God, you’re killing me!”

“Third, I want a guarantee that you won’t extradite me, Ada Lang, or Mark Mason to the States.”

“The hell? Why would I send you back there? After Freedom’s Bell, the voters would string me up if I did – torches, pitchforks, the whole ball of wax. You’re a PR gold nugget, baby! By the way, they sentenced you to death, you know that? ‘Course you do, it’s the kinda thing a person knows. You’ve got my promise. No way we’ll ever send you back. Now when do I get my vaccine?”

“You say the bioreactors will be ready in two weeks, so you’ll get it in two weeks.”

“What is this? Stop stalling and deliver the goods, babe. That’s how deals work. Quid pro quo, right? What good’s the vaccine gonna do you?”

“Well, Ric, while we’re waiting for your equipment to get built, we can start making more vaccine. My friend Ada is a genius, and she thinks we can cook it.”

“Huh. I wondered why Cheyn had such a hard-on for the kid, if he can get his piss-pump to stand up and salute at his age, which I doubt, which explains lotsa things. I’m older than him, and I can still get a boner – only every other Tuesday, but hey, small favors, amirite? But why are we tawkin about dicks? Listen, what can one little kid do?”

“Ada’s like a Vulcan with round ears. She can do anything. Except build bombs. She, umm…she can’t build nukes or stuff like that.”

“Good for her. Okay, we need to vaccinate, hang on…Lenny, how many doses for the first responders?…So yeah, could you kick out five, maybe ten thousand doses?”

“We can make more than a hundred thousand doses a day.”

“A hundred thousand? A day? Seriously? You do that and I’ll marry you. I’ll put a statue of you in every town square and give you the Medal of Honor, if we have town squares, which we don’t, so I’ll build one and plunk the statue in the middle, hang on…Lenny, we need a town square! Somewhere in San Francisco! Hook up with your architect friend and have him design a Medal of Honor too! …I’m back. Hey, you can do that, do that. Get the vaccine to Reno. The cordon won’t hold, and we need to draw the infected away from the border. Hang on…Lenny, how many doses we need in Reno? We might be able to make a firebreak out there, yeah, Warner’s got some dream team that can cook it…okay, I’m back. You get a quarter million doses out to Reno, you’re my hero. You’re in my personal friggin pantheon. You could save the whole state or whatever we are now. Whatever you need is yours, so do it. I’ll give you my personal tablet number, anything you need, you call me and it’s done.”

“What I need tonight is to get into Reno. Infected blood is critical to the process. I’ll really need your soldiers if I’m going back into the States –”

“You won’t be. We annexed Reno and Vegas. They’re part of the California Republic now.”

“Really?”

“Yes, really. Forget you heard that, okay? It’s hush-hush, sub rosa, on the QT. I wasn’t supposed to tell you, but sometimes my mouth just keeps running, hang on…more buttermilk, please?…I’m back. Only part of me that works anymore, so I won’t complain about it. What were we tawkin about?”

“Can you hold on for a second, Ric?” She tried to recall New Detroit’s location, but her memories were jumbled.

“You there?” he asked. “Tawk to me, babe. I hate dead air.”

“All right. Fourth, I want you to annex Tonopah, Nevada, and everything, umm…everything a hundred miles around it.”

“What?”

“That’s my final demand.”

“That’s a helluva demand. Hey, Blue Eyes, I’m not the King of the friggin West here. I can’t go grab whatever I want. Besides, the deal with Nevada was that we’d only cover Reno and Vegas, not the desert. I dunno if they’d go for it.”

“There’s something there I need to protect, Ric. It can’t be in the States anymore, and this is important to me.”

“You’re a pushy one, I’ll tell you that. But I like you. You got moxie. Hang on…Lenny, where the hell’s Tonopah? Holy God, she wants that flyspeck? Really, we’d get Area 51 with the deal? …Okay, who can say no to little green men? I’ll have Lenny Darwin tawk to Carson City. He’s smart, he can work out anything workable, best rainmaker there is. Now we have a deal. I can’t give you any more.”

“All right. Deal.”

“I love deals,” he said. “Now, I’ve got an offer for you…”