Smells Like Strawberries

Orla O’Hara dabs at her swollen, red eyes with a tear-soaked handkerchief, choking back her grief.

“Please, let me see her.”

Since joining the Golden Dawn two years ago, Hugh Livengood, Director of the Eternal Peace Funeral Home, has denied dozens of relatives this request in the name of science and the war effort.

“It’s like I told you, Orla, Katie died from the plague. So far, the Mystic County Plague has only struck youngsters in Bad Axe, Mohita, and children here in Pretoria. No one knows its effect on adults. There’s a possibility that if you’re exposed to it for just a few seconds, you could die too.”

Orla drops to her knees, wailing.

“Katie…My sweet Katie! She was only six years old. She was an angel!”

Hugh pulls Orla to her feet. She collapses in his arms.

“You still have two boys,” Hugh reminds her.

“They both take after their father. They’re criminals preying on the poor in their own community.”

Taking in Orla’s sullen expression, Hugh tries not to let the moment get the better of him.

“Your boys are still young. There’s plenty of time for them to turn their lives around. With Pretoria under quarantine, we’re all facing hardships. And don’t forget we still have a war to win against the Vagarians. Talk to your sons. Let them know how much you need them. You might be surprised to find out that they need you, too.”

Sniffing, Orla wipes away her tears.

“I’ll have everything set up in time for the wake.”

Orla shuffles toward the door.

“Thank you, Hugh.” She says softly. “Your words have given me hope and strength.”

***

Hugh waits until he hears the door close to go into the preparation room.

Simon Sexton, a Child Reclamation agent for the Golden Dawn, is standing next to Katie O’Hara’s body.

Simon has been a member of the Golden Dawn for less than a month. With an average build and a cowl of dark hair that frequently sweeps in front of his sad brown eyes, Simon knows the Golden Dawn hired him because he’s inconspicuous, even-tempered, and willing to take orders without questioning them.

Simon knows that the Golden Dawn is such an enigmatic organization that most people are unaware it exists. He’s unsure how powerful an organization they are or how much influence they have on the country’s war effort.

In addition to helping the armed forces fight the Vagarians to a four-year stalemate, the Golden Dawn has instituted a quarantine in a three-town area, including Pretoria, as they try to find a cure for the Mystic County Plague. According to Golden Dawn researchers, the disease, which affects children up to the age of twelve, is always fatal.

“How long has she been dead?” he asks Hugh.

“Less than six hours.”

“And the actual cause?”

“Pneumonia. Why do your subjects have to be deceased for less than six hours?”

“I’ll let you know as soon as Central Command tells me. Mrs. O’Hara was told it has to be a closed casket ceremony?”

“Yes.”

“Good. I have a requisition for the bodies of Katie O’Hara, Liam McKenna, and Robbie Fitzroy.”

“There are some complications with the boys…”

Hugh opens Liam’s casket.

Seven-year-old Liam, a picture of boyhood innocence in a monogrammed blue blazer with a crisp white shirt, silk tie, and cuffed grey pants, lies stiffly at attention, his features pinched together as if he’s holding his breath.

A rope is wrapped around his neck.

“Suicide,” Hugh says. “Six days after his mother died from cancer, he got the news that his Father had stepped on a land mine.”

“And you left the rope around his neck?” Simon asks.

“Some of the Golden Dawn’s agents have been sticklers for details. I thought you might not believe me.”

Remembering a passage from the Golden Dawn’s Child Reclamation Manual, Simon says, “We can’t take suicides. Oxygen to the brain and blood vessels gets cut off more quickly than in a natural death, rendering the body useless.”

“The third child, Robbie, was hit by a mortar shell. He’s nothing but… Parts.”

“I have a requisition for him. Put his parts in a cooler if you have to, but what’s left of him comes with me.”

The thin, balding coroner blanches, his pale skin turning red. “I know we’re in the midst of a horrible war, but don’t you think that’s a bit over the line, even for a government agency?”

“I try not to think, Mister Livengood. But you should consider how the Golden Dawn’s researchers will react to your being one body short.”

***

Simon returns to The Eternal Peace Funeral Home the following week.

He’s surprised to see a Golden Dawn van already parked by the loading bay.

Simon recognizes fellow agent Mortimer Stokes talking with a tall brunette on the loading bay. She heads inside as Simon parks.

Mortimer puts his hands on his hips as if to tell Simon he’s in charge, but is willing to be cordial.

“Research doubled the number of bodies they want picked up for testing. So, Central Command assigned me to this route as well,” the redheaded agent offers.

“The researchers must be close to a breakthrough on whatever they’re working on,” Simon replies. “By the way, what are they working on?”

“Poison gas. I also heard a rumor that the Navy is working on a flying battleship.”

“Who was that you were talking to?” Simon asks. “I’ve never seen her before.”

“Luciana Petruzzi, the new coroner.”

“What happened to Hugh Livengood?”

“He won’t be working with us anymore. He had an attack of conscience.”

“Where’d they send him?” Simon asks.

“To the front.”

Simon recalls his one trip to the front lines as a trainee, seeing rotting bodies stacked on top of one another like cords of wood, dismembered limbs, and trembling, shell-shocked soldiers.

“How are things going at the front?”

“Not well. Both sides are using gas now. They gassed our soldiers the other day with something that left their corpses purple. After death, they jerk uncontrollably for a few minutes. It’s a very demoralizing thing for our troops to see. But I’m told the work we’re doing, gathering the dead for experimentation, will lead to victory.”

“It’s a shame people can’t be told the truth about what the Golden Dawn is doing,” Simon says.

“They wouldn’t be able to cope with the truth. There would be indignation and misunderstanding. They might even revolt.”

“…Sometimes I can barely handle it myself…”

A red vehicle resembling a fire truck slowly moves up the street. Two men wearing biohazard suits stand on top of the truck, spraying the area.

“What’s that about?” Simon asks.

“You’ve missed too many meetings, my friend. We’re sterilizing all three towns with an airborne antidote to eradicate the plague.”

“But we created the plague to reduce looting and to keep people off the streets at night. It’s not real…”

“Neither are the vaccinations we’ve been giving, or that spray. But people don’t know that.”

“So, this is all for show?” Simon questions. “It seems like a waste of valuable resources just to fool people.”

Simon takes a deep breath.

“Mmm. Smells like strawberries.”

“Central Command wants the sterilization process to be as pleasant as possible.”

***

Simon and Mortimer wheel the corpses of two dead children to the supply entrance of the Golden Dawn’s laboratory.

A guard checks Mortimer’s manifest.

Simon and Mortimer crane their necks, hoping to see something through the small window in the lab’s thick door.

“Interested in what goes on inside?” the burly, scarred guard asks.

“A bit,” Mortimer replies.

“Well, this is your lucky day, Curious George. Our attendant is out sick. You get to wheel the little stiffs into the lab yourselves.”

The lab is a mass of white desks, computers, and researchers and technicians ricocheting around the room, ignoring the horror and gore surrounding them. Children’s arms and legs sit in pans like rump roasts ready for the oven. A headless child’s body lies on a slab, its fists clenched. Its head is on the next table, a macabre grin plastered across its lips.

Simon nearly crashes his gurney into Mortimer when he stops to look at the rows of children's bodies floating inside see-through glass tanks.

A group of researchers have gathered together around a chart and are arguing vociferously with one another. Spotting Simon and Mortimer wheeling the two corpses toward them, a tense, blonde-haired researcher, his jaw clenched in frustration, points to an area of the room where they can leave the bodies.

Simon looks around the lab, counting thirty-two children’s corpses in the tanks.

Mortimer gives Simon a side glance, noting his expression of disgust.

“This is work that has to be done if we’re going to win the war.”

The researchers congregate around one of the tanks.

Simon shudders.

“What’s the matter?”

“…The girl in the tank… I know her. It’s Katie O’Hara.”

The researchers attach a multitude of wires and cables to the tank.

A petite woman wearing round glasses with the name Dr. June Casanova stitched to her lab coat begins a countdown.

At zero, thousands of volts of electricity shoot into the tank. The solution surrounding the body boils and glows white hot.

Kate’s corpse begins to shake. Her eyes open, and she thrashes about violently, her arms banging against the glass.

“CUT THE POWER!” Simon yells.

The tank explodes, hurling shards of glass and the mucus-thick solution at the researchers.

Glowing iridescently, Katie looks helplessly at the researchers.

“…Free me…”

Screaming, Katie explodes.

Picking glass and pieces of waterlogged flesh out of her hair, Dr. Casanova stomps toward Simon and Mortimer.

“This is classified, understood!”

“Yes, of course. I pledge my loyalty to the Golden Dawn,” Simon replies.

“How about you, wide eyes?”

“…. How could you?” Simon snaps. “They’re children. Don’t you have any respect? Any sense of decency?”

“I can call Central Command, and you’ll spend the next two years in prison, or I can accept your vow that you’ll never utter a word of what you’ve seen. And then you can bring the rest of the subjects to the supply entrance like you normally do.”

“Answer one question for me, and you’ll have my vow. Why children?”

“Their bodies react better to the reanimation process.”

“Katie didn’t seem to react very favorably. Are you planning to build an army of undead children to fight the Vagarians?”

“That’s a second question.”

***

Simon heads into Pretoria to meet Mortimer at the Eternal Peace Funeral Home to pick up a shipment of bodies. He hasn’t been to Pretoria for ten days and is surprised by the lack of traffic.

He passes a corpse hanging by a rope from a telephone pole. Then another. Then another. He stops counting after six.

He spots Mortimer’s van on the side of the road. Mortimer is sitting on the curb, holding his head between his hands.

The heavy scent of strawberries hangs in the air. Simon puts on his gas mask as a precaution.

As Simon approaches Mortimer, he can hear him sobbing to himself.

“What’s happened here, Mort?”

Mortimer points up the street.

Bodies line the sidewalks.

“…They did it. The Golden Dawn has found its ultimate weapon,” Mortimer sobs. “Bringing back little children from the dead wasn’t horrific enough and didn’t work, so they perfected the gas. Central Command needed to assess its effect on adults, so they sprayed Pretoria… If anyone asked, they were told we were spraying the cure to the plague…But they used too much… Some people, like me, managed to put on gas masks and get away. The pain caused by the gas was too much… It drove them insane, and they hung themselves. The gas killed everyone else. They’re going to use it on the front lines. They’ll spray the Vagarians, our troops, and every living thing within a ten-mile radius. Everyone will die so we can win the war.”