Lost Past (29 page)

             
“I’ve had it since the Bud epidemic of ’53,” said
Saxant
.

             
“You didn’t use it! That’s, that’s . . .”

             
“My choice. There was no time limit on it.”

             
“What are you talking about?” Linda asked. Ms
.
Saunders asked.

             
Saxant
turned to her, totally ignoring
Jorxt’s
righteous indignation. “About 20 years ago, there was an epidemic. It blocked the blowholes of most
Plict
who got sick. For the mouthed
Plict
, it was a minor annoyance, but it was fatal to Buds, unless someone got to them fast enough to put in a breathing tube. Permits to Bud are very expensive, but they discounted them to about a tenth the price for a short time. Too many jobs were going unfilled.”

             
Saxant
continued talking to Ms
.
Saunders. “I am interested to know how you program a virus checker. We’ve never had the need before.” The two of them walked back to the computer she was using.

             
“It’s very straightforward, because I didn’t do anything fancy with the virus. I also have the source code, which makes it quite easy. Of course, since the virus is embedded in numerous databases they’ll be corrupted, no matter what I do.”

             
Jorxt
was no longer concerned that Ms. Saunders wouldn’t write the virus checker, but it didn’t matter. A great deal of damage had been done, and he would be blamed. He could get his revenge by killing Wilson. That was legal.

             
“I could do it,” IX said. “Even if they retroactively make it illegal, the worst thing that could happen is that you couldn’t bud. You’re financially secure, and don’t really need it.”

             
Jorxt
wasn’t surprised
IX guessed his thoughts. He’d have to think about it before acting. Meanwhile, he needed to find what happened to Wilson.

***

             
The corridors were eerily empty of people, but filled with the stench of death. John traveled a surprising
distance before he saw someone
.
Others in the hall had beards and shaggy hair, and many walked slowly, as if recovering from the flu.
No one appeared to think he looked odd.

             
John slowed down his walking speed and slouched as he went through the hallway. He only saw a couple of other people and they kept to the former accepted behavior of not even making eye contact with people in the hallways. He passed near
Katrine’s
room, and considered stopping. He wondered if she lived. He was headed for the apartment he shared with Cara, Linda, and Wilson, but was startled to see Cara in the intersection ahead of him with one of the clones holding her. She looked his way and paused. The clone,
who
was holding her arm, jerked her forward, then looked at John. Recognition wasn’t instant, but it was quick. The clone’s right hand came off her arm into his shirt, pulling out the same type of weapon Hernandez fired at him before.

             
The clone had all the time in the world, and was going to take it. John didn’t remember starting ru
nning toward them, and was half
way there before he knew he was too late. The clone would fire and kill him.

Cara kneed the clone in the crotch.

             
John crashed into the clone before the clone had a chance to recover, sending the weapon flying. Instead of trying to keep his balance, the clone spun John around, landing on top of him. The muscular man on top of him clearly had more experience fighting than John did. He was going to lose, and Cara would still be a prisoner.

             
The weapon discharged and the clone lay still.

             
Cara stood there, holding the weapon, while John pushed the body off him. He took a pulse, verifying the clone was dead. When John stood up, her expression changed from looking stunned to looking determined. She handed him the weapon handle first. He put on the safety, sticking it into his waist. After he did it, he realized he must have known about this type of weapon.

             
“We should hide the body,” Cara said, with forced calmness.

             
“
Katrine’s
room is near.” John and Cara picked up the body and carried it into her room. Fortunately they weren’t seen and the room was unlocked.

             
Katrine
was dead, lying on her bed. In death she was no longer beautiful. Illness had aged her. John was surprised at his lack of emotion. Should he grieve or be happy? He wasn’t sure. Whatever there was between them was done. Unless he regained his memories, she was not part of his life. People talked about closure, and this seemed to be it. It was the end of a relationship he didn’t remember.

             
He turned and saw Cara searching the body of the clone. She pulled off a holster he used to hold the weapon under his shirt, tossing it to John. John caught it and frowned slightly. He went into the bathroom and washed it off, illogically considering it unclean, but realized that was just squeamishness.

             
There was no shortage of mirrors in the room, and he was able to confirm that the loose shirt he wore hid both the water bottle and the weapon.

             
Cara said, “Help me get him onto the bed. With any luck, they’ll never notice how he died.”

             
After they finished, she wrinkled her nose and said, “I’ve done autopsies, but this . . .” She gestured and suddenly left the room. John could hear her throwing up in the bathroom. John realized it wasn’t so much the body as the fact that Cara was responsible for it.
She came back a few minutes later and said, “They took Linda, but I don’t know where they went. Wilson went after her.”

“You weren’t locked in?”

“Wilson sabotaged the door. The plate the door locked onto could be removed with a good tug. We could have left anytime, but where would we go? For that matter, what do we do now?”

John went over to
Katrine’s
computer and mouthed, “Where is Linda Saunders?” It was a long shot, but he had no better ideas.

He hadn’t identified himself, but the screen suddenly gave a message written in English: Fill in the blank: My name is Bond, _________ Bond. John mouthed, “James.” The screen filled with a map, showing both
Katrine’s
room and a place labeled “Treatment.” There was an arrow pointing to the treatment room with the notation, “Linda is here, guarded by
Vigintees
and there are
Plict
inside.
Jorxt
sent for Cara and is looking for Wilson. He plans to kill them. The receptionist sent me back without the guards, not letting them accompany me.”

Cara was looking over his shoulder, and said, “Take me there. As a prisoner.”

“Arthur is outside,” John said. “There’s a basement with a door to the outside. There are stairways—”

“I know about the stairways,” Cara interrupted. “But you have a better chance of getting in if you take me.”

John wanted to protect Cara but realized her plan was probably the best bet.

“The man I killed was Franz,” she said. “Another one came to help, but Franz sent him away. The others are looking for Wilson.”

             
They followed the directions on Linda’s map and John gripped Cara’s arm, just like Franz did. A lone man at the desk said, “S
end her back.” Cara attacked the man
, not effectively, as she did with Franz, but with her nails. John pulled her back and imprisoned her in his arms. He wasn’t sure he didn’t have an accent after all the years he lived on Earth, so he said nothing, but tried to look a question at the man. “You better take her back,” the man said, wiping the blood from his face.

***

             
Jorxt
retreated to his room to connect with other
Plict
. His transmitter worked for about twenty miles. But there were
Plict
who
were
willing to connect him to others. He wanted news of how the world was reacting to the computer virus that the horrible Earth woman let loose, but instead they were all talking about a Bud conspiracy, which led to finding a mouthed
Plict
conspiracy, and another Bud conspiracy. He didn’t really understand it, but the computer virus seemed to be secondary news. He gave up and returned to the others.

             
“Is your program finished?”
Jorxt
asked Ms. Saunders. She didn’t appear to be working, but chatting with
Saxant
.

             
“Almost, but there’s no point,” she responded.

             
“No point!”

             
Saxant
gave an amused glance at
Jorxt
, and pulled out a small transmitter. “The
Plict
have dozens of virus checkers out there and are spreading the word with private transmitters and hand-delivered software. Not everything is running, but we can communicate.”

             
Jorxt
went back to his room to his computer and mouthed some words. Pictures of Wilson came on the screen, a few minutes before a blackout. He wasn’t in his room, and was wearing all his heavy clothing and had a couple of shirts pulled half over his head, with torn pants legs covering his hands. Wilson barged into someone’s apartment and used his computer. Almost immediately, there was a selective blackout for about two minutes. The corridors between Wilson’s location and the exit to the upper levels were darkened, but the decontamination chamber worked enough to allow one person through it.

             
After summoning Hernandez,
Jorxt
went to the main room. The only
Plict
left were
Saxant
,
Saxant
-Bud and
Jorxt
-Bud IX.

             
“Where is everyone?”
Jorxt
asked no one in particular.

             
“I sent all the humans scheduled for treatment home, and made an announcement that they will come again in three months,” said
Saxant
. “There’s no point in spreading more flu. The Buds are going to organize a cleanup of bodies. Someone has to take charge.”

             
Jorxt
was angry, but IX handed him a slate with the words, “You don’t want more witnesses” written on it. It was too early for IX’s loyalty to change, which made
Jorxt
stop and think. No, what he was planning was right. Ms. Saunders had to pay, and since he
couldn’t hurt her directly without consequences, he would hurt her indirectly. He could even justify killing Cara, since she caused the deaths of so many humans. Everyone should be glad he killed her.

             
Only Wilson’s death would hurt that woman more.
Jorxt
went to the waiting room and found it empty except for the receptionist, who informed
Jorxt
he’d been told to stay to send
away
anyon
e who arrived for treatment
.
Jorxt
waited.

             
Hernandez and two of the clones returned. Three was enough to fight Wilson.

             
“I’m sorry. We couldn’t find him,” Hernandez said. “Franz is bringing Cara.”

             
“Wilson’s upstairs,”
Jorxt
said in exasperation.

             
Hernandez hesitated, apparently torn between using the two different entrances to the upstairs, here, leading to the thorns or the other entrance, near the strawberries.

             
“He’s in the thorns,”
Jorxt
said, suspecting that Wilson realized there was a direct entrance from the lab the
Plict
used to the farm above them.

             
Jorxt’s
knowledge of Wilson’s location helped maintain the image of the all-knowing
Plict
. It might be a good idea to send them all up to go through the thorns, since the different patterns of scars would make them easy to identify.

             
No, that would be pointless. Wait, one could go. He pointed at a random clone. “Go, attack him from behind, using the main entrance. The others will wait with me, in case he comes through this entrance.” Ah, the one he hit was the one he pointed to, since there was a slight mark on his face. This would look like punishment. Besides, he should have stayed and helped bring in Cara. Never mind, it would only take one of them to do it. If he ordered it to be done, they should do it that way. Which one was it? He didn’t pay enough attention before.
Goran
! That was it.