A Short Story
Dr. Mita Kandria steepled his fingers and stared at his faux friend and rival Dr. Golgi Bawdy. “What’s your latest report? How many victims to your credit now?”
“Just under two billion people.” Dr. Bawdy dropped ice into his glass and stepped around the kitchen island.
“Bah!” Mita waved a hand through the air. “Child’s play. I’ve easily doubled that amount.”
Golgi eased into the recliner and sipped his toxic cocktail. “Hardly fair. The Southern Hemisphere assigned to me only holds about two billion people. The Northern holds the majority of the world’s population. So, in reality, my Anthrax assault has been more effective than your Enteric Grenade super bug. Nearly every trace of a human is gone in my zone, except maybe a few hundred thousand. How many billions are still remaining in the North?”
Dr. Bawdy irritated Mita. If his partner didn’t hold as much power as he did, he’d eliminate him in a heartbeat. But his remark was valid. “I do have a perplexing dilemma I was hoping you could help me with.” Mita paced the small room, stopping in front of his large Toronto high rise picture window, and staring at a delightfully ghastly image of garbage-filled empty streets. The view never ceased to give him pleasure. “I’ve encountered fierce pockets of resistance all over the Northern Hemisphere. Every pathogenic attack I’ve mustered has been ineffective. My mission to wipe out the entire population has been thwarted by an unknown enemy. I’m stymied at every turn. For the life of me, I can’t figure it out.”
Dr. Bawdy nodded. “You are running into the same issue as me, although my numbers are lower.”
Mita rubbed his chin. “It must be a global defense system of some sort but for the life of me, I can’t figure it out. How about you? Any idea what might be causing this?”
“It’s very difficult to ascertain—pockets of resistance sporadically located all around the globe? Perhaps it has something to do with their health? Nothing seems to take them down. Maybe it’s the recent non-GMO kick?” Bawdy slapped his knee and cackled. “Or their gym club memberships?”
“Or their gluten-free diets.” Mita laughed so hard, he doubled over and held his stomach.
“Why don’t we join forces?” Bawdy downed the last of his drink in one big gulp and jumped to his feet, energized by his latest idea.
Dr. Kandria slipped his hands into his pockets and turned to face his grotesque compatriot. “Your idea may hold some merit. Why don’t you help me up here in the North first, then I’ll accompany you South?”
“Of course, it’s always you first.” Bawdy grumbled. “Fine. There’s no time like the present. Are you ready?” Bawdy flew through the glass window and hovered in the air.
Mita joined him as they sped over the city. Two working together in symbiosis was mutually beneficial. Why hadn’t he thought of that before? He knew why. Because he could barely tolerate the hideous organism. Now, they hovered above a modest home in a small town in Southern Ontario. “Are you ready?” Mita latched onto Golgi’s body as they descended.
Bawdy stopped midflight. “Where did they come from? Do you see the size of those … creatures guarding the property?”
Mita Kandria blinked—the hairs on his cell wall stood stiff with fear. “There’s a strange aroma coming from that house and wafting up toward the heavens. What could that be?”
“A chemical defense system? Smells like an overpowering yet sickeningly-sweet perfume. Perhaps we can inflict more damage together. Let’s sneak down the chimney.” Bawdy attempted to move but cried out in pain. “Hey man, why’d you just stab me?” He grabbed his side.
“What are you talking about?” Suddenly, Mita’s body shook with explosive impact. “Why did you slam me into the bricks on the chimney?”
“I did no such thing.” Bawdy skidded down the asphalt roof, tumbling head-over-heels with his partner, finally coming to rest in the rain gutter. “Get off me, you ugly germ. You’re killing me.”
“We’re dying. What happened?” Strength ebbing, Mita opened his eyes. Terror such as he'd never known skittered through him at the sight of the glowing ethereal being that loomed above them. With fire in his eyes, and a double-edged sword in his mouth, the earth shook as his voice thundered.
“The prayers of the saints have drifted heavenward and reached me. No weapon formed against me shall prosper.”
Mita felt the breath whoosh out of his anthrax accomplice just as his own world darkened. His last conscious thought shook him to the core of his cellular composition.
There really is a God that answers prayer.