The old banter, the jokey tone: was it a trick? “I said, take them off.”
In a manner that struck him as leisurely, Alicia unbuckled the straps and tossed her bandoliers to the ground.
“Now the sword,” Peter said.
“I’m here to talk, that’s all.”
Peter lifted his voice toward the top of the wall. “Snipers! Target the horse!” Then, to Alicia: “Soldier, isn’t it?”
If he’d rattled her, she didn’t show it. Nevertheless, she drew the scabbard over her head and lobbed it forward.
“Now the goggles,” Peter said.
“I’m no threat, Peter. I’m just the messenger.”
He waited.
“As you like.”
Off they came, revealing her eyes. Their orange color had grown stronger, more piercing. Time had not moved for her; she hadn’t aged a day. Yet something was different, a quality not so much seen as felt, like the prickling of a storm’s approach long before the clouds arrived. Her gaze did not wander but held him straight. A look of challenge, though now that her face was unconcealed, there was something naked about her, almost vulnerable. Her confidence was a ruse; feelings of uncertainty lay beneath.
“Hit the lights.”
Three portable banks of sodium vapor lamps were positioned behind him. They went off like a gun, blasting Alicia in the face. As her hands flew upward, half a dozen soldiers charged forward and shoved her face-first to the ground. With a loud whinny, Soldier reared up on his hind legs and pawed violently at the air. One of the soldiers jammed the barrel of a pistol against the base of Alicia’s skull while the others covered her body.
“Somebody control that animal,” Peter barked. “If it makes any trouble, shoot it.”
“Leave him alone!”
“Colonel Henneman, shackle the prisoner.”
As two soldiers led the horse away, Henneman holstered his pistol, stepped forward, and chained Alicia’s wrists and ankles. A third chain connected the shackles behind her back.
“Rise and face me,” Peter said.
Alicia rocked upright into a kneeling position. Her eyes were clamped shut, her face angled down and away from the harsh glare of the lights, like someone dodging a blow.
“I’m trying to save your lives, Peter.”
“You have an interesting way of showing it.”
“You need to hear what I have to say.”
“So talk.”
A moment passed; then she began: “There’s a man—more than a man, a kind of viral, but he looks like us. His name is Fanning. He’s in New York City, in a building called Grand Central. He’s the one who sent me.”
“So that’s where you’ve been all this time?”
Alicia nodded. “There are things I never told you, Peter. Things I couldn’t tell you. The viral part of me was always stronger than I let on. The feeling got worse and worse—I knew I couldn’t control it for long. Right after Iowa, I began to hear Fanning in my head. That’s why I went to New York. I intended to kill him. Or he could kill me. I didn’t really care which. I just wanted it all to be over.”
“So why didn’t you?”
“Believe me, I wanted to. I wanted to slice his damn head off. But I couldn’t. The viral that bit me in Colorado wasn’t Babcock’s. It was Fanning’s. It’s his virus I carry. I belong to him, Peter.”
I belong to him. The phrase was chilling. Peter glanced at Apgar to see if the full meaning had registered. It had.
“Fanning and I had a deal. If I stayed with him, he’d leave you alone.”
“Looks like he changed his mind.”
She shook her head emphatically. “I didn’t have any part in that. By the time I figured out what he was doing, it was too late to stop it. All along he was waiting for you to spread out, your defenses to drop. It’s Amy he wants. If I bring her to him, he’ll call it off.”
So there it was. “What does he want with her?”
“I don’t know.”
“Don’t you lie to me.”
“Where is she, Peter?”
“I have no idea. Nobody’s seen Amy in over twenty years.”
Alicia’s tone had shifted; all her bluster was gone. “Listen to me, please. There’s no stopping this. You’ve seen what he can do. He’s not like the others. The others were nothing.”
“We have walls. We have lights. We’ve fought them before. Go back and tell him that.”
“Peter, you don’t get it. He doesn’t have to do anything. You have, what, just a few thousand soldiers? And how much food? How much gas? Give him what he wants. It’s your only chance.”