Juggernaut Read online

  “No!” Schuyler whirled on him. “Not until the fuckers who did this to us answer for it. I want that bastard McClosky out of the mountain and in front of a firing squad.” Her mouth twisted, like she was about to say something more, but then her shoulders dropped and she turned away, stalking toward the door. “Then I’ll walk away, if they still can’t treat me like I belong here, but not a moment before.”

  By the time summer had passed, the Clean Zone had been transformed. A perimeter trench had been dug and seeded with razor wire and metal and wood spikes to keep revenants and potentially infected newcomers out. Adequate housing had been built, the agriculture and animal husbandry operations were in full production, ensuring everyone would have enough to eat come winter. Deaths due to illness, accident, and suicide were far fewer than before. And most importantly, live births were beginning to outnumber deaths for the first time since the pandemic.

  Quarantine had become a more humane—though not necessarily pleasant or easy—process that was far less likely to kill the detainees than it once had. The quarantine zone was set up on the perimeter of the Clean Zone, with another trench circumscribing it. And beyond that was the neighborhood the Jugs had commandeered. Only Zach, Nico, and a handful of other Jugs ever passed along the causeway into the Clean Zone itself, and then only when absolutely necessary.

  The Jugs still did what they could to make the Clean Zone habitable while they waited for the committee to surrender. What else were they going to do? Sit by and do nothing while the civilians struggled for survival? But it was with an undercurrent of resentment now. All progress on the constitution had halted because the Jugs flatly refused to ratify the document until it treated them as full citizens with equal rights.

  Zach lived with Nico near the Jug housing, far enough away to be safe if one of their neighbors happened to be bleeding. He found and refurbished a bicycle too, because the walk was so long. The clinic was thriving, and Chantal now had two other assistants. If not for the contention over the constitution, he might have called the situation perfect. Until a new patient, just out of quarantine, arrived at the clinic.

  “Not you,” the father of the developmentally disabled preteen said, reaching out as if he was going to grab Zach to prevent him from helping the boy to the examination cubicle. “They told me about you. You’re the one that lives with those infected soldiers. I’d like someone else to help us, thanks.”

  Zach blinked slowly, biting his tongue on the heated retort that sprang to his lips. He made himself smile reassuringly. “I appreciate your concern, sir, but I assure you, there’s no danger. My husband would never risk infecting me.” It didn’t matter to Zach that they had never filed any papers or made any formal declarations of intent. He knew what Nico was to him.

  The man regarded him flatly. “So you say, but I’m not taking any chances. Get someone else over here to help us.”

  “Sir . . .” Zach bowed his head and drew two long breaths before continuing. “I understand that you just got out of quarantine. It must be strange to be around people again. Maybe it leaves you feeling a little exposed and insecure. But we’re all God’s children, including the Jugs, and we’re all citizens of the Clean Zone. We have to learn to live together and trust one another. If—”

  “Zach, can I have your help back here a moment?” Chantal interrupted, stepping out of one of the exam rooms. “Mandy, take over for Zach?”

  Frowning at the interruption, he nodded and left the patient and his father behind, following Chantal to the break room in the far rear of the clinic.

  “Zach, as much as I know it hurts you to hear it, that man isn’t wrong,” she said, pitching her voice low. “I think it might be time for you to find some other place to work, away from the public. I don’t want people refusing medical treatment because you’re here.”

  For a moment it felt like she had punched him in the chest, his lungs burning with the need for oxygen as he gaped at her. “What? Chantal, are you serious?” He ran a strangely numb hand down his mouth, fingers scraping along the bristle on his jaw but not really feeling it. “You— You’re a doctor. You’ve been working on the constitution, trying to get the committee to remove the discriminatory clauses against the Jugs.”

  “No, Zach. I support those clauses. I helped draft some of them. You thought I would try to have them removed because that’s what you wanted, but it’s my duty as a physician to be on guard against public health hazards. You assumed I felt the way you did, but I don’t.” She sighed, looking—of all things—frustrated with him. “I’ve been trying to tell you for months. You can’t keep living with the Jugs and working here. You’re putting us all at risk.”

  “I can’t believe this. After everything they’ve done here—”

  She folded her arms over her chest, squirming. “I don’t dislike the Jugs. God knows they helped us when we needed them, and the Clean Zone is a much more stable and sustainable place thanks to them. But they are dangerous. It may not be their fault, but it’s still because of them that billions of people have died. We’ve been telling you this all along, but you won’t listen.”

  “We?”

  “All your friends. Mike, Adam, Karla, me. About the only one who will be near you is Morris.” Now she had the audacity to sneer. “Not that you’d notice, since you never make time to be here with us unless you’re working.”

  “Oh, so now I’m, what? A traitor because in the evenings I want to go home to the man I love? You were the one who said I should be the liaison!”

  Damn her for daring to act like she was being the reasonable one. She put on her best I’m-dealing-with-an-irrational-patient expression and asked softly, “Did Nico shave this morning?”

  “What?”

  “Just answer the question. Did Nico shave this morning?”

  “Yes, of course he did.”

  “Were you there with him?”

  Zach growled. “Yes, I was. We always get ready together in the morning. But he didn’t cut—”

  “What if he had?” Chantal stared at him without blinking.

  “He didn’t.”

  “But what if he had?” When Zach refused to answer, she prodded more insistently. “Zach? What if he had cut himself?”

  “Fine. Then I’d be exposed, and there’s no way I would have come into the Clean Zone today.”

  The mental image of that happening was like something out of a nightmare. The utter devastation Nico would feel if he accidentally infected Zach with the Beta strain. It was almost enough to make Zach regret discarding the ampule of the Alpha strain. Zach supposed it said something that he was less concerned for his own safety than he was for what it would do to Nico if that situation ever arose.

  “How do I know that?” Chantal persisted, her arms still folded stubbornly across her chest while Zach was the one pacing and gesticulating. “How do I know you wouldn’t still come into work?”

  “Oh, good Lord, Chantal! Because you know me!”

  “True. But I don’t know Nico.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “Are you absolutely certain he didn’t cut himself this morning?” She lifted one eyebrow. “Maybe just a nick, when you weren’t watching. Something he covered up?”

  “He wouldn’t do that. He knows the dangers better than anyone. All the Jugs do. Why do you think they’ve formed their own enclave outside the Clean Zone?”

  Chantal shrugged. “People panic and make horrible decisions. Sometimes because they want to deny—maybe even can’t accept—that there’s a problem.”

  “Nico wouldn’t do that.”

  “So you say, but am I supposed to risk my life on that? The lives of my patients?” Finally, she dropped her arms, and now she looked angry, and it awoke a similar fury in Zach because how dare she? “Nico has an accident, he can’t make himself face the fact that he’s killed you, so he hides it. Doesn’t let you or anyone else know, and then all of us are dead. Just like that.”

  Zach gaped. “
That is the most far-fetched, irrational piece of bullshit I’ve ever heard. I can’t believe you’re saying this.”

  “I admire your loyalty, Zach, but the fact is, they’re not human. Not anymore.”

  He stared at her, horrified. “Chantal—”

  Her eyes were sympathetic but merciless. “You need to decide where you belong, Zach.” She turned away, stopping at the break-room door to speak over her shoulder. “Go out the back exit, away from the patients, please. And good luck, whatever you choose.”

  Nico had awoken knowing in his gut something would happen that day. There was a charge in the air, leaving his skin prickling. He was antsy and distracted as he got dressed, had barely focused enough to kiss Zach good-bye, and had spent the day helping to clear a new field. New survivors were still trickling into the Clean Zone, and it wasn’t likely that this year’s production capacity was going to be sufficient for the number of survivors who would arrive next year.

  Kaleo wasn’t wrong. They had become the labor force for the jobs the civilians didn’t have the physical strength to do. What else were they supposed to do? Leave the Clean Zone unlivable, sit around all day doing nothing? The Jugs lived here and needed those crops and supplies even more than the civilians did, and it made horrible sense for the Jugs to do the heavy labor that once could have been done by machines. They had the strength and endurance for it, and the civilians would only accomplish a fraction of the work in much more time. And they couldn’t do only enough to take care of themselves and leave the civilians to starve; that would be tantamount to genocide. The civilians were the only people who could reproduce, who had any hope of ensuring the continuation of humanity.

  So in that way, it was at least voluntary labor, but the dynamics of the whole situation were incredibly uncomfortable. Especially knowing now that they weren’t going to get equal representation in any government the Clean Zone formed.

  Nico’s head came up when he realized the people around him had stopped working, their attention drawn to a commotion at the far end of the parking lot. He dropped his pickax and stripped off his gloves as he jogged over, finding a sweating Kaleo in the crowd.

  “They’re surrendering,” Kaleo explained excitedly, catching him up on the news the messenger from Delta Company had reported. “They sent a message out from Cheyenne Mountain today, asking for a list of demands from the civilian government. Foxtrot’s going to deliver it when they relieve Bravo.”

  Cheers broke out, incredible whoops and shouts of triumph as the Jugs jumped and embraced and clapped one another on the backs. Nico laughed when a woman he didn’t even know from Echo Company jumped up and wrapped her arms and legs around him in celebration, before he eased her down to her feet.

  The messenger held up his hands to get their attention again. “We’re all ordered to return to our housing. We’ll be forming up outside NORAD to take custody of the prisoners when they open the gates to surrender.”

  Nico wanted nothing more than to go find Zach and celebrate. There was no way the Jugs were going to relent on the siege unless the military government handed over McClosky and any other high-ranking personnel involved in the implementation of Project Juggernaut. They would finally see justice for what had been done to them and for all the deaths that had followed.

  The walk back to their apartment complex was a long one, though Nico took it at a jog. He would need to shower anyway while they waited for the order to join Foxtrot outside the mountain. Nico took his time bathing, stroking his dick leisurely as he imagined what he’d do when Zach got home from working at the clinic.

  This was it. It was almost over. The waiting would be done, and after over a year of being in limbo, they could settle into whatever would pass for “normal” lives in the postpandemic world.

  In his mind, he was spread out on the bed, in the process of being screwed into the mattress by Zach, when the building caved in on him.

  The first explosion shocked Zach out of his moping as he pedaled along the perimeter security causeway, past the quarantine zone, to the neighborhood the Jugs had claimed. He’d been staring at the road, watching it blur beneath his wheels, and he hadn’t even noticed anything amiss until the explosion, which was answered by the sound of assault rifle fire, then followed by another boom.

  Nico!

  He pedaled faster, rushing toward home, rushing toward his husband. He stopped, though, when he heard the rumbling engine of a tank, when he saw its turret turn and take aim at the apartment building that housed Echo Company. Sierra Company’s housing was farther up the road; he couldn’t see it from where he’d stopped. All he could see were Jugs pouring out of the other intact buildings to confront suited soldiers who followed the tank, taking shelter behind anything they could as they tried to stop the Jugs’ advance before they reached contamination range.

  The need to get to the Sierra building and find Nico warred against the voice that cautioned him from stupidly running into a combat zone with bullets and mortars still flying, not to mention potentially wounded Jugs on the ground. He took shelter in an empty storefront, watching through the dusty windows as half the Jugs charged the tank and the other half went after the soldiers on foot.

  It wasn’t a contest. Zach wasn’t sure why the soldiers even tried. No doubt they were obeying some command from on high, ordering them to commit suicide as long as they took some of the Jugs with them.

  This time, Zach noted, the Jugs didn’t go after the masks of the attacking soldiers right away. Even now, under fire, they didn’t want to infect anyone if they could avoid it, and there were Jugs bleeding everywhere. They disarmed the soldiers instead and used them as shields, threatening to tear their masks off if their comrades didn’t lay down their arms. Another apartment building—Charlie Company’s—was reduced to rubble before a squadron of Jugs got the hatch on the tank open and started dismantling the turret.

  The firefight stopped, leaving behind a heavy haze of dust and smoke and gunpowder fumes that clouded the streets. Zach couldn’t see very far, but he heard the shouts of the Jugs demanding the soldiers’ surrender, and finally left his hiding place with his hands up in case anyone noticed him and questioned his presence. Even now, after months of living alongside them, he only knew the Jugs from Sierra Company and Nico’s friend Kaleo from Delta Company.

  He located his abandoned bike and rode back the way he’d come, circumventing the combat area to take the long way around to the opposite side of the apartment complex where Sierra Company was housed. When he got there, his heart stopped beating.

  Another tank had been stopped and torn apart by Jugs, but Sierra Company’s building was a pile of rubble, and some of it had fallen on the house next door that Zach and Nico shared. Jugs were digging through the debris, and all thought of his own survival fled as he dropped his bike and sprinted toward them.

  “Nico!”

  “No! Zach! Oh God! Keep him away!” The shriek was pained, like the cry of a panicked, wounded animal. Zach spotted a cluster of Jugs working on a thrashing man on the outskirts of the ruined building, trying to hold him down. Some of them had blood on their clothing.

  A huge Jug grabbed Zach, preventing him from going any closer. He was too far away to see Nico’s face, but he could hear those frantic screams, sobbing cries to get Zach out of there.

  “You can’t go near him,” yelled a familiar voice, and Zach realized the Jug had to yell because Zach himself was shouting, arguing, trying to tell Nico it was all right.

  Zach fell silent and turned to see Kaleo holding him back. He was covered in dust but not blood, his brown skin gray with streaks of grit and sweat. The sight of him was reassuring enough that Zach calmed.

  “Do you know how badly he’s hurt?”

  “Compound fracture in his left leg,” Kaleo said. His cheerful smile was long, long gone, his mouth pulled into a grim line. “The medics are trying to check him over for internal injuries, but if he’s got any, he’s going to hurt himself worse freaking out about you
. Get the fuck out of here. Get to the Clean Zone where it’s safe.”

  “I can’t.” Zach shook his head, swaying with relief and glad that Kaleo was still holding him upright. “I think I managed to avoid going near anyone who was bleeding, but I should probably go to quarantine. Just in case.”

  “Fine. We’ll deal with that later. We’re taking the wounded to Tango’s quarters. Bravo should be safe. Get over there, tell them I sent you, and stay there, out of the way where no one is bleeding, until I come for you.”

  Zach nodded, taking a moment to pull himself together before he shrugged off Kaleo’s hold. “Before I go, can you tell me what happened?”

  “Ambush.” Kaleo’s mouth twisted. “Assholes inside the mountain were supposed to come out to accept the civilian government’s terms and agree to a timetable to turn themselves over into custody. Instead, they launched a full-scale attack. Fuckers bowled right over Foxtrot. If it’d been twelve hours later, there would have been more of us there. Wiped ’em out and kept coming for the rest of us.”

  “Oh, dear Lord.” Zach closed his eyes and thought a short, silent prayer for all the casualties. “How many have died?”

  “We’re still counting. But the first building they took out was housing Lieutenant Colonel Wallace and his staff. Pretty much anyone above the rank of company CO is dead.” Kaleo shook his head. “They knew exactly what they were aiming for.”

  Zach swallowed hard and met Kaleo’s gaze again. “You’re sure Nico’s all right?”

  “I don’t think he’d be making as much noise as he is if he weren’t.” Kaleo squeezed Zach’s shoulder kindly. “Get somewhere safe. I’ll come find you as soon as I can.”

  Through the chatter around him, made fuzzy as it was by his pain, Nico learned of a second onslaught from inside the mountain. By then the Jugs had relocated, though; the buildings where they had made their homes for a year were empty. They launched a sneak attack of their own, rushing out of hiding to stop the tanks and foot soldiers with almost no casualties.