One in Ten Ch. 09

"So that influenza outbreak in Shanghai isn't the flu," Special Agent Pamela Norris mumbled.

"Three days to incubate then four days to kill you, if it runs with the historical models," SA Lena Tambora added. "We are all going to get infected. It sounds like most of us will die."

"Why isn't there a nationwide quarantine?" Norris asked Dimples.

"Economics," SAC Treyvon said. "Examining global travel, trade flow, infection rates and time since inception, the whole world is going to be infected. The Federation economy is going to do more than collapse - it is going to die. The Government Executive is probably positioning key industries and resources so that they survive."

"Just like the Vanishers," I mumbled.

"Correct in both ways," Dimples smiled.

"How so?" I asked. I was thinking 'both?'

"They are both survival plans and they are both illegal," Dimples smirked. Now Capri giggled.

"Israel," Capri addressed my confusion, "the President is letting millions and millions of Federation citizens become infected when she knows better. This is murder on a grand scale."

"Enough," Dimples waved her hand. "Time to take Israel to face the press one last time."

"Dimples, are you going to let me go when this is over?" I timidly requested. Maybe I should have called her Special Agent in Charge Treyvon.

"Of course," Dimples smirked. "I can't hold you and I can't keep you hidden, so my best bet to meet with you later is to let you make a run for it. Please do not think I like you."

"Oh, you are still sore that a man outsmarted you," Capri mocked Dimples.

"That is incorrect," Dimples arrogantly dismissed Capri's charge.

"Liar," Capri smirked.

"No, I am sore that ANYONE outsmarted me. Being a man never entered the equation," Dimples smiled back in her oh-so-superior way. I leaned into Dimples, brushed her hair aside until my lips touched the rim of her ear.

"Mary Wollstonecraft," I whispered. It was all I could give her; she had trusted me, and all I could give was a name. On second thought, I could have only said 'Mary' and she would have found me. I was really worried about the wrong group of people. I needed to keep focused on me and Capri.

We were soon back in the studio. The mood was very different today. We were all looking down the barrel of a gun, politically speaking. There were even two members of the President's Public Relations Office on hand to make sure things went okay.

"Elvira Booker," one of the two officials introduced herself. I deviated past her.

I went straight at the woman who was eyeing me intently. I slipped one hand behind her back to pull her close and used the other to tip her face up for a kiss. We held it there for several seconds then I felt a quick series of stinging sensations against the back of my thighs and buttock. I kept my hand at her back, but backed off from the kiss.

"Bad boy," the little script writer scowled. "I didn't give you permission to kiss your Mistress." Huh? Oh, the stings behind me had been her riding crop. Well, this would definitely convince the people around me I was nuts. I lowered my head in contrition.

"I apologize Mistress for my hunger for your body, my thoughtlessness concerning your authority, and my willful ignorance of your majesty," I begged softly.

Her voice dripped with rapture.

"Kiss my foot, Dog," she commanded. I knelt down - there was no way I was groveling on my belly (I'd been forced to do that), lifted up her left ankle while she steadied herself by resting a hand on my head, and kissed the toe of her foot. I waited. She tapped my shoulder with the riding crop then I put her foot down.

"Back to work, Dog," she purred. "Your Mistress will punish you when it is more convenient for me. Scurry." As I stood up, I flashed her a quick peek. She was radiant, confident and vibrantly alive. For me, it was another spark of happiness given to another. It was also confirmation that I had to escape. Otherwise I could end up with a leash, dog collar and little else.

"Ah...ah," Elvira regarded us. "Is he going to be capable of a rational response?"

"Ms. Booker, are you prejudiced against alternative lifestyles?" Capri rallied to my defense.

"Oh, please," Elvira countered. "That was a bizarre form of workplace encounter in anyone's book."

"Absolutely," I nodded. "Normally I get a ball gag and she uses me as furniture. She is obviously in a good mood today. Let's not spoil it." Elvira stared.

"The answer to your question is 'yes, he really is off his rocker'," Dimples remarked dryly. "He is capable of intelligent conversation. That will not be your problem."

"Fine," Elvira finally turned back to me, "the President is going to ask you to volunteer to help your Nation in its time of need - to help with scientific research regarding a looming threat to our population. You need to understand that we need you to say 'yes'."

"Okay," I nodded. "Can I stay in the city? I have friends here."

The rules for a verbal exchange are the same for a physical exchange. Intelligence, initiative, audacity, and application of power. I noticed what she wasn't saying. There was no mention of the coming plague. This was yesterday's battle. They knew better. They didn't seem to understand that I knew better as well.

"We will most likely have to take you to a facility closer to the Capital, initially," Elvira assured me. "After some initial research, we should be able to at least allow you some visitation."

She lied like the pro she was. It sounded like she actually had negotiating power, which I knew she didn't have. I was a PR guy too.

The last time I made a decision as a Public Relations Officer, they kicked my ass into Federation custody along with pushing me into the unemployment line.

"Thank you," I smiled. "If it isn't too much of a pain, I'd like Capri O'Hara here," I indicated my friend, "to stay close by. She's my legal counsel."

"You will be legally represented by the Ministry of Justice," Elvira informed us. "A special unit is being formed to handle your case exclusively." It took me a moment to realize this was a trap.

I was an asshole, a pain in the buttocks and the man who had proudly declared he'd never help another woman, much less the country.

"No way," I shook my head. "I'll help. That doesn't mean I trust you people. Last night I realized I had to do more - too many of us died. That is why we are even talking right now." That was laughable. We were talking right now because some moron on the Capital thought this would be good PR for the President.

Otherwise I'd be somewhere else and without even the illusion of control over my life. This wasn't the approach I'd taken with Dimples and Shelia. That had been a case of withholding information. This was a case of feeding someone - Elvira - the lies she wanted to hear based on her selfish desire to succeed.

If the Presidential plea worked, Elvira could chalk up a big one in the win column. Most likely that would lead to a promotion and hopefully Press Secretary one day. After that, she would retire and become a paid pundit until the end of time. Elvira believed I had a conversion experience when I was surrounded by all that death because she wanted to believe it.

Still, I was willing to bet that Dimples tipped things over in my favor. She was calm and in control. Elvira trusted Enola's judgment and Enola was giving every sign that she believed in what I was saying. Piercing the male psyche was Dimples' job. What Elvira didn't know was that while Dimples had done her job unraveling me, she was now - not only on my side - joined with me in fighting a greater evil, namely Elvira's boss.

"How about this?" Elvira proposed. "Before we take you out of the city, we define Ms. O'Hara's status as your legal voice?"

"Make that phone call right now and I'll do this," I replied after a few seconds of pretend thought.

This was the best of both worlds for Elvira Booker. She wasn't overcome by her prejudice against males. She was better than that. No, she was being taken in by the belief that, while she thought I was smart, she was smarter. She was going to put on a show in front of me, I'd eat it up and she'd come out of this smelling like roses. She'd win and personally trick me doing it.

Elvira made that call, was transferred and then went into her sales pitch on my behalf. She really gave it her all. I interrupted the call the same way I had with Capri's boss on Thursday. Sure enough, it was the President's Chief of Staff. I was suitably embarrassed, gave the phone back and the deal to include Capri was done.

Elvira tried not to look victorious. She'd suckered me good. She should have gone with her first impression. Hadn't Dimples told her that I was totally insane? I wasn't afraid of the President or her legions. The person I was most afraid of at that second was Mistress Script Girl. The lady was a woman on a mission that left me curious about how happy I wanted to make her.

They finally let me at Maribel Cartwright who seemed amused by the whole Elvira interaction. She reached out and covered my mic while also covering her own.

"This is going to be a complete disaster, isn't it?" she humorously whispered.

"Do you trust me?" I responded.

"Hell no," she giggled.

"Then I think you are right," I grinned. "What's next?"

"I think starting off with a few commercials would be wise," Maribel sighed. "Once this shit storm starts, we are seeing in through to the end."

"Thank you, Maribel. I know you haven't done what you have done for me. That's okay. I think you have helped the world in a way that really matters," I confided in her.

"Goddess," her eyes grew wide, "this is going to spectacularly suck, isn't it?"

"And how," I chuckled. Maribel released our audio hook-ups.

3 - 2- 1, and we began. Maribel began her spiel, opening up the issues for the audience as well as paving the way for the President. I was given a cursory introduction which was a nod to my celebrity status. My buddy from Ontario was there as well as that nice neurologist from Texas who hadn't thought I was a complete idiot. For five minutes we all danced around the subject.

The - blank - at the Blazer Arena was the 400 kg gorilla in the room. I wanted to say massacre. The women wanted to run with the word 'tragedy'. We all agreed that far fewer men would have died if men hadn't panicked. They were less enthusiastic about concurring that death by lead poisoning would have been eradicated if the cops had run first.

Elvira moved to the stage manager to let her know the President was about to come on-line. She also motioned for Dimples and her people to close in. She wasn't taking chances, or so she believed. If anyone at GNN was annoyed with Doyle Crane doing a simulcast, they didn't say anything about. There was an added benefit that, from his viewpoint, you could see the Feds closing in on me.

"Greetings, Madam President," Maribel smiled politely.

"Hello again, Maribel," the leader of the Federation gave out such genuine warmth and comfort. "Hello to you too, Mr. Jensen, or may I refer to you as Israel?"

"Thank you very much, Madam President. Whichever name works for you," I smiled.

"I apologize for this interruption, Maribel. A matter of national importance has arisen and I want to take prompt action," the President kept going. Huh? Yeah, like I normally have armed females closing in on me just out of camera range...wait, I do...oh fuck. My life really is a mess.

"The issue of the reduction of male reproductivity has come to the attention of myself and my administration and there is no time like the present to attack this issue. Mr. Jensen, your personal adversity has gifted the human race with a second chance to throw off the yoke of fear invoked by the Gender Plague," the President declared.

"I am personally inviting you - no, begging you, to help out your people, your nation and your race," she appealed. Hmmm - had I not despised her and everything she stood for, I might have been moved to actually help out. As it was, she hadn't used the magic word and it wasn't 'please'.

"Come to a research facility near the capital, run by the Ministry of Public Heath, and we can start working today and figuring out what makes your antivirals so special that they may truly hold the secret to global human survival," the President mothered me.

"I can hardly say 'no' after an emotional appeal like that," I tried to look stunned. "But, I do have one request first." Everyone paused. Elvira was definitely starting to rethink what I'd told her. I hadn't said 'Yes'; I had said 'I'll do this', which was now open to all kinds of interpretations in her mind.

"I have a friend named Dara Castelo and she is going to die without your help," I pleaded. The President was a pretty good public speaker. She was capable. She was also tired. The President went for the rote response.

"Israel, my people will do everything possible to look into her problem and work to keep her alive. I promise you," she added.

She had, in fact, promised nothing, which was what I expected.

"Great," I beamed. "She's on the West Coast where a new version of the Plague from China has broken out. Since its mortality rate is somewhere near 100%, could you find her and get her out before the quarantine goes into effect. In case you can't, and if you are listening Dara, I never told you I loved you. I was too ashamed and I'm sorry for that."

By the looks I was getting there was only one thing worse than a babbling nutjob Prophet of Doom, and that was a babbling nutjob Prophet of Doom who was annoyingly correct.