Carley Ch. 12

We made an unbelievable amount of money. All the states bordering the Great Lakes were desperate for us to wipe out zebra mussels, rusty crayfish, Asian Carp and giant African land snails. Fine, no problem. It wasn't hard to get the reported annual costs and predicted future costs. We totaled up their projected losses and expenses over the next 10 years and used that as our fee. They screamed, but they paid. We prepped for a month and did the job in a day.

Megatons of invasive trees, vines, grasses, snakes, eels, fish and bugs followed each other into death. Other countries needed help, too and I (sob!) had to buy a new, highly customized Gulfstream 650 to get around.

We stayed busy for two years and worked part-time for another two. There were demands that we wipe out mosquitoes and other pest species, but we wouldn't do it. We insisted on sticking to invasive species, not wanting to mess with the natural balance between native species. There were exceptions, though. The Guinea worm and other parasites like the one that causes River Blindness had to go. And who needs malaria? Or polio? Or Ebola? Most of our time is spent doing DNA analysis of the target species and programming the Hammer. All our work is done in a secure building on Patrick Air Force Base. The Feds, still terrified that someone will steal the Hammer and use it to kill Americans, picks up the tab. I park the Gulfstream in their hanger.

It was no surprise that the Feds weren't the only ones who suspected the Hammer could be used as a weapon. Terrorists, drug cartels and various crime organizations around the world came after us. A platoon from SEAL Team Two and another from Delta Force take turns amusing themselves, one platoon guarding us and the other trying to outsmart the guardians and penetrate our security. A Delta operator parasailed onto my roof in broad daylight last year, dropped onto the balcony outside my second floor office and entered through the French doors. If he hadn't been wearing a vest, my two .45 slugs would have killed him for sure. He'll never live down defeating SEALs only to be shot by a civilian engineer.

Carley and I have been married for a little over a year. All the security and loss of privacy is a pain in the ass, but that's the price we have to pay. Our friends are all screened, and when we meet someone new, they get a discreet but through going-over by our all-knowing government. One of the non-negotiable parts of any overseas extermination job is that the host country has to issue all three of us permanent licenses to carry weapons everywhere we go. We routinely train with our guardians.

Thor has it even worse than we do. As the only human on the planet who actually understands Hammer math, he's hunted by everyone from outright loonies who just want the fame inherent in killing a famous, world-class genius to religious psychos and eco-terrorists. He lives in Hawaii now, on a huge estate with its own private runway and no road access. Carley and I own an adjoining estate. She bitches endlessly when Florida temperatures drop below 80 degrees, so we spend most of the "winter" in Hawaii.

A nice contract just came through to Hammer an Indian Ocean parasite that's attacking coral in the Caribbean. Time to go to work.

This is probably the last of the Carley stories. I'd intended to write a single short story about the effect one accidental discovery can have on a society, but the characters got away from me. They started writing their own dialog and scenes and chapters, to the tune of over 66,000 words.

They seem quiet now, but you never know. They might start yapping at me without warning.

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