Plague War

containing her, she realized.

“Sir, I’m not sure,” Estey said, but he gestured at the glass of‚ce. None of the people inside had noticed them yet. “I think she was just trying to talk to the governor,” Estey said.

“That’s right,” Ruth said.

The colonel stared at her. “You don’t go anywhere I don’t tell you. Understand?”

“Yes. I’m sorry.”

“They’ll join us in a minute,” the colonel said. “I’m taking you to a spare of‚ce.”

“Okay. Yes.” No, she thought. Ruth wanted to be in the heart of their operations when she spoke with Shaug and his generals. If there was any hope of silencing her, they would take it. She couldn’t afford to be isolated.

She got lucky. The governor ‚nally noticed the disruption out in the main room. He strode to the glass door of the of‚ce. Perfect. As he pushed through he lifted his hand, hello, not understanding the situation. A man in a blue uniform walked after him and then a woman in Army green.

The soldiers released her. For a moment, Ruth was free. One of them bent to gather his printouts from the †oor, and the data tech returned to his seat. Ruth yanked her cell phone from her pocket. “Stop right there,” she said. She pointed the small black plastic casing at Shaug like a gun, yelling now as the soldiers converged on her again. “Stop!”

They came very close to taking her down. The data tech froze with his hand on her sleeve. Another man stood at her shoulder, and the colonel had drawn his pistol. They couldn’t know what she intended, but in the twenty-‚rst century, a phone could be a weapon. A phone could trigger explosives or signal troops.

“Everyone get back,” Ruth said. She turned slightly to aim her ‚st at the data tech, stepping away from him and the other man, creating a thin space for herself in the crowd. “Listen to me. The war is over.”

They didn’t hear her. “Put it down,” the colonel said, and Shaug called, “What are you doing?”

Other conversations continued in the room. Except for a few men and women immediately beside her, the soldiers were absorbed with their work, and Ruth wondered how many lives she’d already jeopardized across the U.S. by interrupting radio calls. One girl remained at her console, talking into her headset even as she watched Ruth’s face. “That’s a roger, Jay Three. Expect them on your north side,” the girl said.

Ruth winced and clenched her ‚st again on her cell phone. She needed to steady herself. “The war is over,” she said. “I’m forcing a truce.”

“You can’t,” Shaug began.

“Put it down.” The colonel aimed his gun in her face. Three other soldiers had pulled their sidearms, but Ruth continued to hold up her phone.

“It’s the only way,” she said.

The colonel racked the slide of his 9mm Beretta without pointing it away from her ‚rst, chambering a shell. Ruth felt herself go white as something in her chest lurched — heart, lungs. “I’m not warning you again,” the colonel said.

Estey stepped in front of her. “Wait.” He’d lifted his arms from his sides, making himself bigger as he walked into the muzzle of the colonel’s gun.

Goodrich did the same on her other side. “Everyone just wait,” he said, increasing the safe zone around her.

Ruth was astonished. She had wondered long and hard why Cam asked these three to escort her and only these three, excluding Ballard and Mitchell. She wouldn’t have thought that Estey could let go of his authority, and yet Cam had been very right about him, his exhaustion and his grief. Estey wanted to believe that she knew some way out.

Foshtomi acted alone. Foshtomi grabbed Ruth’s hair and spun her sideways, chopping her arm down on Ruth’s hand. She knocked Ruth’s phone into the row of computer consoles. Then she slammed Ruth’s hip and shoulder blades down onto the hard shapes of the desk, a keyboard, two card cases, and a PDA.

“No,” Foshtomi said. Her lovely face was twisted with fury as she cocked one ‚st high behind her own ear. Ruth tried to block it and missed. Foshtomi’s knuckles glanced off her teeth, cracking her skull back against the messy surface of the console.

Goodrich clawed at Foshtomi, but he was dragged back by another man. Estey didn’t even get that close. One of the other soldiers clubbed Estey with his pistol and Estey banged into an overturned chair.

“Wait—” Ruth coughed, spitting blood.

“You crazy bitch. We died for you,” Foshtomi shouted, and it was true. Wesner. Park. Somerset. Ruth didn’t know how many more had been hurt or killed with Hernandez in the ground assaults out of Sylvan Mountain, but that number must be in the thousands. They were exactly why she was here.

“Nanotech,” Ruth said.

Foshtomi only struggled to hit her again, wrestling with the men who’d surrounded them. “No!” Foshtomi yelled, not at the soldiers but still trying to deny Ruth. Cam had misjudged her— maybe because she was cute. Maybe she’d never invested as much hope in Ruth as the rest of them. It didn’t matter. Foshtomi’s left hand was snarled in the front of Ruth’s shirt, bumping and pulling at the buttons Ruth had altered with liquid glass, creating miniscule air bubbles against the plastic.

“I’m wearing nanotech!” Ruth screamed. “Get her off! Get her off me now!”

The USAF colonel threw Foshtomi aside but leaned into her place himself. He pressed his weapon against the underside of Ruth’s jaw, forcing her head back. She was too scared to hold still. She tried to pat at her shirt to see if the buttons were there and the colonel immobilized her wrist with his other hand, bent over her body and the computer console. He twisted her arm — her bad arm — and Ruth cried out. Then someone else caught her other hand. She saw Estey pinned to the computers beside her, a submachine gun at the back of his head. No less than a dozen USAF commandos stood behind the colonel, and yet Ruth grinned at them over the smooth-edged bulk of his pistol.

“Let me up,” she said.

“Where is Cam!?” Foshtomi yelled, imprisoned herself by three soldiers. “Where’s her friend?”

“The war is over,” Ruth told them, bleeding and desperate. She licked at the coppery warm gore on her lips as if the wounds belonged to someone else. She was even glad for the pain, because it hurt less than the ice in her heart. “Listen to me,” she said. “There’s no other way. I have nanotech that will push the Chinese all the way back to California, but unless you do exactly what I say it’ll kill our side, too.”

The colonel did not release her, although he glanced down at her shirt. “Oh, shit,” he said.

Ruth Goldman had turned traitor again.

* * * *

“Why are you doing this?” Shaug asked, and General Caruso said, “Think what you’re doing. It’s not too late. We could use this to surprise them.”

“No.” Ruth tried to hold still in her chair. She wanted to project only strength, but she couldn’t get comfortable. Her back was covered with bruises. Her lips were torn and swollen. A medic had treated her quickly, putting one stitch in her upper lip and then covering it with gauze and tape. The bandage felt awkward against her nose. She kept lifting her good hand to ‚dget with it.

“If we had time to coordinate,” Caruso said. “If you just gave us a few days.”

“No.” Ruth was anxious, but that worked in her favor. They were jumpy, too, because she held one of the buttons between her ‚nger and thumb. With every gesture, they †inched.

Shaug had been the ‚rst to recover after the colonel let her up. We can get someone to take care of you, he’d suggested. He wanted to move her into the glass-walled of‚ce, but Ruth declined. She needed witnesses. She needed the leadership to have as little control over this information as possible.

The data tech who’d joined the struggle was back at his console, and the girl beside him never stopped talking into her headset, coordinating with ‚ghter teams out over Nevada. Everywhere in the large room, people had returned to their tasks — but they were aware of Ruth. The din of voices continued to lull. They were talking about her. Some of them had heard what she’d said. They told the rest, and from here the truth would eventually reach U.S. and Canadian populations up and down the Continental Divide. From here, she could reach the enemy.

“This is treason,” Caruso said.

This is the real start of it, Ruth thought. Not the bombing. Not the invasion. Today. This is peace.