Margaret plopped herself down with hasty clumsiness, and then tried awkwardly to lean back in her chair, which was rather uncomfortable despite – or perhaps because of – its ornate design. The General ignored her evident discomfort and swept a melodramatic arm out before him.
‘Dr Green, let me introduce you to these members of my team.’
‘The Antidote, right?’ she replied, hoping that her tone didn’t come off as too snarky.
‘Yes, the Antidote.’
The General beamed a strange smile at Margaret, and at once a chill rushed down her spine and an eerie disquietude prickled the surface of her skin. She understood immediately that she was on very thin ice here, despite the General’s smiles and pretensions of polite hospitality.
Keep your big ol’ mouth shut, Margaret. It’s the only way you’ll be walking out of here alive.
‘To your left is Dr Elin Ogilvy of Norway. She is one of the top microbiological engineers on the planet. You may have read some of her papers, if you follow journals of microbiology, that is.’
The Nordic woman gave Margaret a curt nod and a cool smile with her thin, tightly drawn lips.
‘Hi Dr Ogilvy,’ Margaret murmured.
‘And the wonderful fellow on your right is Dr Ricardo Teixeira, a prominent and highly esteemed virologist from Brazil. He has been at the leading edge of the study of various medicines engineered from plants unique to the Amazon rainforest. His research has been ground-breaking in his field, second to none.’
‘Hello Dr Green,’ rasped the portly little Brazilian, squinting at Margaret through his soda-bottle lenses. His husky voice was draped with a dense accent. ‘It is nice to have met you.’
‘Uh yeah, it’s nice to meet you too, Dr Teixeira,’ she replied, smiling somewhat uneasily.
‘Now, let us not waste any more time with small talk, for time is most surely the most precious commodity we possess,’ the General said.
‘Agreed, General,’ Dr Ogilvy added. ‘Shall we eat before we get on with matters at hand?’
‘Yes, let us give our bodies nourishment, so that our minds may operate at their most optimum capacity. Ghandi, could you and Sankara please bring out our meals?’
Two of the teen soldiers who were stationed at the doors saluted and hurried off.
‘They will be back in five minutes,’ the General said, smiling. ‘In the meantime, perhaps you would like to ask a few questions about us? I’m sure that despite your persistent feelings of fear, anxiety and confusion, you must nonetheless be a little curious about the Antidote, no?’
‘I would, um, like to ask a few things, er, if you, uh, don’t mind,’ Margaret replied, acutely aware of how badly she was stuttering and stammering.
‘Ask away, Doctor. Remember, whatever happens, you will have your freedom in thirty days. This I promised you, and my word is my bond. But, as I have also said, I feel that you may well decide to stay on once the time comes to make your decision.’
Margaret wanted to jump up and scream at him. Her fiery temper flared up, as if a gallon of petrol had just been tossed onto the orange-glowing embers that burned in the pit of her belly.
I’ll never choose to stay with you, you goddamn terrorist! You kidnapper of children, you rapist, you liar, you misogynist, you warmonger! Never, not in a million years!
That was what she desperately wished to roar at this man, this pompous, lying violence-spreader with his fake smile and put-on Oxford accent and somehow flawless English.
You pretend you’re so sophisticated, so ‘enlightened’, out here in the jungle in your ancient city, with your child soldiers and these moron scientists who you’ve somehow duped into joining your warped, fucked-up little cult … well, not me! Hell no! I’ll never willingly join this disgusting club, whatever the heck it is! You dare talk to me about ‘enlightenment’, out here, out here in the most unenlightened, lawless and barbaric place on the planet! You presumptuous, arrogant asshole! I don’t care if you’re reading these thoughts! Go on and read ‘em! Kill me, rape me, get it over with! I’m getting sick and tired of this goddamn game!
She looked up at the General, beaming as sarcastic and scathing a smile as she could manage.
‘Well, where exactly do I begin? How about this: why don’t you start, sir, by telling me exactly what the Antidote is? I mean, are you a religious group? Or some sort of rebel militia who hope to take over the government? What’s your agenda?’
‘We are—’ the General began.
‘Wait, General.’
A calm and measured voice interrupted him: Dr Ogilvy.
‘General, may I?’
The General nodded coolly. From his expression it was plain to see that he did not appreciate this interruption, but in his subdued anger there was also respect for this woman. Dr Ogilvy, meanwhile, smiled coolly and looked Margaret squarely in her eyes.
‘Allow me to explain. We are no mere “rebel group”. We are not a militia, we are most certainly not a cult or religious order, and we are not affiliated to any particular government, political party or any outside organisation. No, none of these can describe anything of what we are, because we are our own movement. Yes, a movement. Pardon me for my rudeness in being so presumptuous when I say this, but you look to be of an age to have both witnessed and perhaps participated in some of the greatest social justice movements America has known in its recent history. I think as a small child you must have seen footage of the anti-Vietnam war demonstrations, yes? Civil rights protests, maybe? Surely you yourself would have marched in the protests against your country’s unlawful invasion of Iraq and their unjust war in Afghanistan in recent times?’
‘Yes,’ Margaret replied, her voice tinged with uncertainty. She was quite unsure of what to make of this woman, with calm confidence and disarming demeanour. ‘Yes, I did.’
‘Well, then you are already part of the Antidote. You just haven’t realised it yet,’ Dr Ogilvy responded.
‘Your movement must be
