Chapter X

PART II
CHAPTER X–DAY OF RECKONING
WASHINGTON D.C., P.A.L.S. HQ
AUGUST 11TH

The day was like any other: sunshine arched her arms across the gorgeous blue sky, not one wisp of wind, and Quentin Forsythe’s right hand man, Dr. Henry Yates casually walked up the marbled mosaic steps into the illustrious P.A.L.S Headquarters. An overpowering waterfall in the courtyard added an aesthetic expression to the otherwise bland building.
Dr. Henry Yates was creeping up on another mid-life crisis, his wife of six years had recently severed the relationship, claiming “marriage malfunction”, whatever the hell that is. Yates just wanted to assemble another chapter in his life, albeit at fifty years old, he sure had a lot of cosmetic tinkering to adhere to. One friend, and ex-girlfriend named Lola, urged him to induct himself into the foray of thousands who are trying the medical marvel of Botox. One could see how long that relationship lasted for the virile Henry Yates.
Henry was starting to split at the seams, in every conceivable crevice. His infectious appetite, especially, when going through these dire, trying times would lead him directly into the arms of Little Debbie and those legendary moon pies. A short man of roughly five feet six inches, Henry’s weight bounced around the scales like a ping-pong ball in a championship tournament.
But, as those twisted fates would have it, Dr. Henry Yates’s
validated concerns about his two hundred and fifty pound frame, or his slight deafness in that pesky right ear, or the wrinkles that had enjoyed their voyage across his face, wouldn’t compare to the letter that laid upon his glass desk, ready for his curiosity to peek at.
The brown envelope was a well-traveled one indeed, and the return address had stunned the obese doctor even more. His fingers carefully used a sharpened metallic silver colored letter opener to crack the glued seal, allowing him to expand the envelope and grasp what was inside. His voracious eyes scanned over the meticulously handwritten note, sensing imminent danger was amidst. This was no formal letter from just anyone. This letter was a sign, a last-ditch warning to save the human race. The author was none other than Quentin Forsythe.
Dr. Yates quickly worked the phone lines, desperately trying
to reach Dr. Judas Sturgis.
Judas flipped off another bottle cap to an ice cold Heineken, as Katy prepared a hot breakfast for the dynamic duo. The magnificent aroma of sausage and eggs lured the inebriated Judas staggering into his small kitchen. The last week and a half Katy hadn’t left his side, deciding to roommate with the once prolific doctor, rather than commute back and forth between residences.
She had ultimately decided to let Judas’s frequent drinking fall by the proverbial wayside, since he was enduring a tough struggle coming off his recent malady. But, enough was enough and she finally wrought up enough courage to combat Judas’s increasingly difficult behavior.
Katy’s slim body had snugly fit into Judas’s pair of blue Adidas running shorts. She also found of his tattered New York Yankee tank tops to complete the sweltering ensemble.
Judas polished off the beer and sauntered up behind Katy, reaching around her waist and tugging her hips with a playful grip.
Katy immediately felt entranced by his advances and pushed off her intended conversation with Judas, failing yet again in the throws of passion. She would have to find a way to solve that problem of hers, as it usually let to failed relationships and a path of winding uncertainties.
The loud knocking of the door broke Judas from his trance,
almost startling him from his self-induced daydream.
“Now, who the hell could that be?” Judas complained as he shuffled his dreary ass over to the door and gazed through the tiny peephole.
“Maybe it’s our room service?” Katy offered a vague attempt at humor.
“Doubtful,” murmured a shaky Judas. “Not unless they’re dressed in a visually distracting blue suit with government issued haircuts.”
“Mr. Judas Sturgis?” The deep voice called out from the other side.
“Who wants to know?” Judas aggressively barked back.
“We’re here on important business.”
“Then start blabbing,” responded a sly Judas.
“Well sir, it’s a matter of national security, and we’re personally here via the President of the United States, Dr. Henry Yates, and Dr. Quentin Forsythe.”
That last name hit Judas like a ton of bricks. Judas’s mind went into a tailspin as he tried to search for the right sentence to utter next.
The door finally unlatched and Judas welcomed his guests into his home.
“Sorry to intrude,” the first man spoke, as he eyed Katy’s ass in the kitchen. “My name’s Kevin Barton.” He reached for the stunned Judas’s hands.
“Dr. Judas Sturgis,” he finally responded. “And over there in the kitchen, is my girlfriend, Dr. Katy Madison.” He finished off the introductions.
“Hello,” Kevin also shook Katy’s hand, noticing her perfect breasts underneath the New York Yankee tank top. He was stunned at her erect nipples and thought to himself of what he wanted to do to her.
“Are you finished staring at my breasts? Or would you like to take more time to analyze them?” Her statement shook Kevin’s foundation, engaging a full-blown case of reddened embarrassment.
“I wasn’t,” Kevin unsuccessfully tried to backtrack his way out of this steaming pot of crap. “I’m here to bring Judas to Washington D.C. to meet with Dr. Henry Yates.
“I don’t appreciate you looking at my girl,” Judas tersely responded back.
“I’m very sorry,” Kevin started to sweat through his cheap polyester suit. His furry eyebrows saturated with glistening sweat, while his pale skin turned a bright red. “I meant no harm, just damn, she’s very pretty.”
“You do understand your behavior’s very unbecoming of a government official?” Judas confronted the immature pig.
“Can we just go now?” Kevin started to pace back and forth.
The sudden jolt of the phone had perfectly broken the uncomfortable scenario. Judas eagerly picked it up, waiting to hear Forsythe’s grimy voice on the other end.
“Dr. Judas Sturgis?” The elderly voice asked.
“Speaking,” Judas replied back, knowing that this had to be Dr. Henry Yates, Quentin’s right hand man. Judas had only met the gentleman on rare occasions, a very honest and hardworking medical genius as well.
“Dr. Henry Yates here,” the voice paused, “I have some terrible news for you Judas.”
“I take it, that Kevin will escort me to the nation’s glorious capital, and you’ll tell me all about it?”
“Good to see that your refined sarcasm hasn’t changed a bit over the last five years.”
“It’s been that long since Quentin had that fund-raiser for the Cambodian campaign?” Judas remembered back.
“Yes,” Yates’s voice dropped in baritone, almost as if he had seen a ghost. “Please, come to Washington and we’ll plow through everything.”
“I’ll be there soon,” Judas said as he clicked off the phone and rested it back on the cradle. “After you, Porky Pig.” Judas mockingly motioned to the disgraced official.
“Must you bust my balls? I mean, just look at what she’s wearing?” Kevin tried to weave his way out of the situation.
“That’s it!” Judas cocked his fist and squarely landed a vicious left hook on Kevin’s cleft chin, sending him spiraling to the light beige hardwood floor.
“You just hit a top ranked government official!” Katy was stunned.
“Yeah I did.” Judas reached down and swiped Kevin’s keys from his slacks. “And it felt great,” replied Judas as he dangled the keys in front of Katy’s widened eyes.
“You’re fucking nuts!” Katy kissed him on the lips.
“Go change.” Judas slipped Katy some tongue and squeezed her firm ass. “Today we’re riding in style.” He tossed the keys into the air and caught them in a cocky manifest of enthusiasm.
*****
The fantastic view of the majestic, towering, historical Washington Monument swept over Katy Madison like a fourth grade field trip. The very fabric of our nation’s freedom and existence was all captured inside this tiny district, just outside of Maryland. Katy had accompanied Judas on this particular journey into the political foray, for she wanted to know why that dickhead in the suit approached them back at the cabin.
Judas fiercely parked the black Cadillac into the first available parking space he could locate.
“I don’t think we’re handicapped?” Katy advised directly to her boyfriend.
“I have a feeling, we’re going to get out of jail free card on pretty much anything we do right now.” Judas opened the door for Katy and the two darted up the steps of Dr. Henry Yates’s building.
“Why is that?” Katy asked of Judas as she adjusted her navy blue ensemble.
“I have a gut wrenching feeling that Quentin Forsythe needs my help down in South Africa. Mr. ‘I can save the world’, finally needs someone else’s help. How sweet justice can be sometimes.”
Judas grinned back at Katy, while he professionally withdrew his dark black sunglasses and entered through the expensive revolving glass doors and into the lavishly decorated marbled foyer.
Jogging up the stairs to the second floor, Judas approached the receptionist’s desk. “I’m here to see a Dr. Henry Yates,” Judas said with a hearty thrust of his voice.
“Is he expecting you?” The kind receptionist answered back.
“If he wasn’t, do you really think I’d dress in this Armani for nothing?” Judas smirked back in arrogance.
“He’s having a tough day adjusting to his new found wealth,” Katy rebutted, trying to smooth over the potential train wreck to follow.
“Right down the hall, third door on your left.”
“Thank you,” Katy responded before Judas could get a word in edgewise. She tugged him by the wrist cuffs, and motioned him along down the bright corridor.
“That went well,” Katy interjected her thoughts, “that is until you opened your mouth.”
“Promise me you’re not going to talk in there,” Judas replied back with a sarcastic tone.
Katy was confused on how to take that remark, and she quietly started to seethe under her breath. Judas could be such an asshole, and this was one of those times.
Judas rapped his knuckles against the window and heard Dr. Yates beckon him inside.
“Ah, Dr. Judas Sturgis,” the portly Yates welcomed his visitor. “And the gorgeous lady?”
“Dr. Katy Madison,” she spoke without thinking of what Judas asked of her before they entered the room. She caught him placing his fingers to his lips and silencing her next word. Katy picked up on the inglorious hint, and obliged this one time.
“So, what’s that Forsythe up to now?” Judas started to bark away at the questions.
“What I’m about to tell you, is truly horrific,” Yates replied with a dour tone. He firmly paced the room, several times circling Judas and Katy, tapping his fingers against his lips in a hesitant fashion. “Do you need a drink?”
“Only the alcoholic kind,” Judas slyly replied back.
“Well, you might need one after what I’m about to tell you.”
“Don’t keep me in suspense. What good trouble has that old fart created now?” Judas used his right hand to unbutton his Armani before he sat down in the chair. Katy followed suit and pulled up a seat next to Judas.
“Ever since Quentin landed in Natas, Africa, he’s had some severe obstacles to overcome, no doubt.” Yates also retreated back to his comfortable swivel chair behind the monstrous desk of his. Yates anxiously flicked the cream colored Venetian blinds with his fingers, trying to find a docile way to encapsulate the dire situation at hand, without creating a firestorm of fear and lost faith. “He has successfully rebuilt some of the impoverished colony, even constructing a new medical center, a preliminary water irrigation system, and with the help of a local man called Zartan, completed a water filtration system that gathers the water directly from the nearby Congo, and offers the colonists a healthier and cleaner drinking supply.”
“How do you know all of this?” Judas inquired.
“Quentin has written me two letters,” Yates started to sweat and fidget in his chair. “The other letter, not so rosy.”
“How so?” Judas loved this moment. He had deep disdain for Quentin, and now the failed doctor desperately needed Judas to come bail his ass out.
“Details are vague, but it seems that Quentin has stumbled upon a deadly virus that combines Leprosy with Ebola.”
“Pardon my French.” Judas cleared his throat. “But, how the fuck does that happen?”
“Quentin states briefly that a previous doctor had found a cure for Leprosy through the Ebola virus. He used himself as a control, and the rest, as they say, is history.” Yates turned to the intercom, pressing the red button with a powerful firmness.
“Lara, please send in Randal Davis.”
“What’s going on?” Judas wanted to know. “Who is Randal Davis?”
“Mr. Davis will personally take you down to Natas, Africa.
I want you and your assistant here, to find out what the hell happened down there, and bring back Quentin Forsythe.
“I feel a bit maladjusted to be sent on a rescue mission into the heart of bloody fucking Africa.” Judas gritted his lower jaw with ravage intensity.
“The President of the United States, virtually handpicked you to spearhead this mission Judas,” Yates cracked his knuckles against the sweaty palm of his right hand. “He’s read your work, and quite frankly, finds you to be on a higher intellectual level than most of your peers.”
“I forgot to strap on my boots today Henry,” Judas responded with haste. “You can stop shoveling the bullshit, it’s almost knee high.”
“I’m serious, Judas. This problem could eventually spark a worldwide epidemic.”
“So why not just send down the Army and bottle that colony up tighter than a drum?” Judas inquired.
“The President wants to keep this situation under the radar, as long as humanely possible.”
“Do I have a choice?” Judas asked already knowing the answer.
“I would think you would cherish the opportunity to help your mentor,” Yates said with a wry grin.
“Well, I sure would like to rub his nose in whatever shit he’s gotten himself into down there.” Judas sported a cocky smirk.
“When do we leave?” Katy broke the male dominated conversation, startling Judas, who again shot her an annoyed grimace from across the room.
“Once Roland Davenport helps you pack your gear.” Yates motioned in Roland through the glass window.
“Hello Mr. Yates,” Roland’s firm presence permeated the room’s stuffy atmosphere. Roland’s daunting figure was definitely fearsome. His grandeur six foot four frame, rippling muscles, and light hazel colored eyes that would melt any woman’s rapturous heart.
“This is Dr. Judas Sturgis and his companion Dr. Katy Madison,” Yates introduced the pair to their tour guide.
“Hello,” Katy’s soft voice seemed lost upon Roland’s manly presence; however, she still maintained her allegiance to Judas.
“What’s with the cargo gear?” Judas returned the firm handshake, with a sly remark on Roland’s choice of clothing. Judas definitely felt a bit on the jealous side, Roland had to be several years younger than Judas, and offered Judas a potential threat for Katy.
“It’s finally glad to met you Dr. Sturgis,” Roland’s calm demeanor made Judas hate him even more.
“You know my name?”
“Dr. Quentin Forsythe and I shared a recent crusade to Cambodia together, and your name usually frequented the conversation.”
“It’s best to know I’m not forgotten around here,” Judas answered back with haughtiness.
“Are you always this cocky?” Roland addressed the stunned doctor.
“Ever since Judas unceremoniously left the organization, shortly after his divorce,” Yates brought Roland up to speed. “He’s been sort of a rogue type doctor floating around where he can, offering whatever brilliant assistance he can.” Yates offered a solid compliment to the otherwise dreary Judas.
“Are you familiar with the area, where we’re headed? I don’t want to be running in circles the whole time I’m down there.” Judas looked over at Katy, who in return sent him a roll of her eyes. Judas returned his attention to Randal. “So?”
“I’ve been a seasoned tour guide for over fifteen years,” Roland responded coolly. “I’ve been in Cambodia, South America, Africa, China, even North Korea.”“I really do feel much better.” Judas smiled back with the wryest of grins. “When does our plane leave?”
“Oh yeah,” Yates interjected. “Two minor details I forgot to outline for you Judas.”
“Can I pick which one sucks the worst?” Judas retorted with sarcasm.
“Roland will be taking you into the colony via the Congo river, as a fragmented coalition has been patrolling the area for several days now, awaiting Quentin’s next chopper.”
“Peachy.” Judas stood up. “And secondly?”
“Secondly,” Roland stepped into the conversation. “Is once you enter the colony, there’s no return.”
“No return?” Katy answered back in confusion.
“The colony has been potentially overrun by this virus, and
according to Quentin’s letter, your first breath could very well
be your last.” Roland tugged down on his green Congo hat, and
then reached into his sandy colored pocket and broke off a piece
of a Slim Jim, eagerly stuffing into his waiting mouth.
Several thousand miles away, in a dingy, small, Iraqi bar
lit with a dusty, shallow hue, Captain Nathaniel Logan washed away his recent victory with a cold beer. The angry locals had sputtered about the musty café, causing some occasional injustices. For example: a rowdy, uncontrollable bar fight, or loud incessant arrogant verbiage, or perhaps on some days, actual gunfire. Captain Nathaniel Logan had just killed one of the cultural icons that this country had adored or feared, whichever fragment of society one conversed with. Whatever the bleak case would be, America had now immersed her labor, time, and blood into this eventful cause, and now had to produce that wily carrot on a stick; democracy. Our over eager American President with a shoot first and maybe ask questions later, had another problem to surrender his attention to. This new problem centered upon the rapid explosion of a mysterious virus in the depths of South Africa, where one of our leading doctors had run into something truly horrific. President Samuel Locke couldn’t possibly ignore this problem any longer, and called in his own reinforcements: the glorious U.S. Army.