THE PLAGUE YEARS

Chapter 1

Cicero, Illinois

Were it not for Sigrid and his two beautiful children, Nelson Van Alden would have found living and working in Cicero, Illinois to be hell…

He had tried his hand at sales-the Farrady Electric Iron Company-and his failure there had been…spectacular, to say the least…

With no other job prospects available, he had drifted, somehow, into Dean O'Banion's orbit, and found a job there, working at the man's flower shop, among other things…

Collections…I used to be a Prohibition Agent, and now I've sunk to this…

He had fallen; and his fall from grace had been steep, and final…

He had murdered; a fellow Prohibition Agent-Eric Sebso-and was now a wanted man.

So, now hiding under the alias of George Mueller, he was doing the best he could to provide for his family; and if that meant taking money from hapless citizens on the orders of a gangster, so be it…

But, even as he was doing all of this, events out in the wide world were taking place; events that would very soon change the entire world, and plunge Van Alden into a personal hell the likes of which he could never have imagined.

At first, everyone thought it was the Spanish Flu come again. Everyone…literally everyone got sick. There were fatalities. Not as many as with the Spanish Flu, but still considerable.

It was the survivors that troubled and worried the world…

At first it was reports of odd abilities; clairvoyance, mind reading, and the like; things spiritualists had been conning people over for centuries, so at first, no one thought anything about it…

Then, things took a more serious turn…

Telekinesis, psychocreativity, Prescience, and Proven mental healing; along with some…darker manifestations, like shape shifting, and the ability to drain the life essence from other living things…

The thought of O'Banion, or the Capone Brothers with abilities like that gave Van Alden a colossal case of the shivers.

Of course, now his shivers were probably due to other, far more pressing causes.

Walking home from O'Banion's flower shop, his head aching dully, he pulled his overcoat more tightly around him.

Chills, and an aching head…

I can't afford to be sick. I've got a family to provide for…

"Husband!" Sigrid, as usual, was happy to see him. Mercifully for his aching head, at this time of evening, the small house was quiet; the children fed, bathed, and put to bed.

Sigrid helped him out of his coat, and laid a gentle hand on his cheek, a gesture that never failed to calm the maelstrom in Van Alden's heart.

"Oh!' she exclaimed. "You are hot! Your head…it hurts?"

"Yes…"Van Alden admitted. "It hurts."

"Hot soup," Sigrid decided. "A little akvavit, then bed."

By the next morning, Van Alden was delirious with fever, ill with what everyone was now calling the Change Plague.

Sigrid had sent the children to stay at a friend's house; afraid they would catch the Plague, afraid they would see their father die.

Van Alden was aware of none of this. He lay within an ocean of terrifying nightmares, punctuated by brief periods of lucidity; reality appearing in brief snatches of time.

He vividly recalled seeing the doctor looming over him, and the feel of the stethoscope, icy cold against his chest. The doctor looked worried, and Sigrid was crying.

Then the fever took him again, and he was back in the lake…

His hands hold Eric Sebso down, and the other man's limbs flail as he drowns…

I am a murderer. Perhaps I deserve to die…

But who will provide for Sigrid and the children?

Other dreams follow, horrifying images…a man with glowing white eyes, and in his wake death and destruction, the bodies of men and women shredding into bloody red mist at a gesture of his hands…

Abruptly, Van Alden opened his eyes…

He felt feather light, as if a strong breeze would float him away.

He was in his bed, under warm blankets, and daylight seeped in through the curtains. A gentle hand caressed him, palm settling on his forehead.

"Ah…"Sigrid's voice. "The fever, it is broken…"

Next time he opened his eyes, it was dark outside. The bedroom door opened, and Sigrid backed in, carrying a tray, the aroma of her good beef broth filling the room.

"You're awake!" she smiled as she set the tray on a table.

"Look at you!" she fussed over him, piling pillows behind his back so he could sit up.

"All skin and bones you are, my love. You must eat!"

The broth was simple and good, and Van Alden began to feel a little stronger.

"We were all so worried!" Sigrid spoke earnestly. "The fever had you for six whole days. You almost died of it!"

Van Alden was horrified.

"I was out of it for six days?"

"Yes"

"My job…" Van Alden felt panic bubble up inside.

"No, Husband," Sigrid took his hand. "O'Banion caught the Plague too, and died of it. The Capones are ill of it too, but they haven't died yet, I'm told. You must rest first. When you are well, then you can search for a job."

HR

Atlantic City

I'd like to give the god who wished the Change Plague on us a piece of my mind…

Enoch Thompson-Nucky to one and all-had taken ill with it…

Out of it for four fuckin' days…

Now, still feeling somewhat wobbly, he was back in his office, trying to assess the damage wrought by his unexpected absence.

Thank the lord for Margaret…

The erstwhile Mrs. Schroeder had stayed in the office that whole time, had kept the ship floating, and more or less on course.

The wild stories about Plague survivors developing strange abilities unnerved Nucky; almost as much as the recurring nightmare he had started having immediately upon his recovery from the Plague…

Not Atlantic City…Standing in a heavy downpour, Richard Harrow by his side, he and Harrow both drenched by the rain.

The car is idling on the road, a twisty country back road leading off who knew where…

Nucky feels compelled to walk off the road, onto muddy ground. Then he comes across the body…

It lies face up on the muddy ground, and the rain hasn't washed off all the blood on the man's chest.

The man is dead. But Dream-Nucky knows, in his blood and bones, that he has to take the body, take it back to Atlantic City. If he doesn't, the world will suffer all the agonies of hell…

Nucky shuddered. He could have sworn he knew that dead man. The face, what he could see of it through all the blood, looked familiar. He knew the guy…

But where have I seen him before?

Nucky snorted in self-disgust.

You know it's bad when you start angsting over a dream…

HR

Cicero

I used to be a Federal Agent. Look at me now…

There Nelson Van Alden was. Wearing his best suit, sitting just outside the Capone…office?

It didn't sound like any office Van Alden was familiar with. Loud music was playing, and he could hear raucous laughter. But he had met the Capone Brothers before.

They are not overly known for their formality of behavior…

"Mr. Mueller?" a Capone tough poked his head out the door. "He'll see you now."

Van Alden followed the man in, hat clenched between his fingers.

Briefly, he wanted to turn and run. But the days where he could have found more…respectable employment were long gone.

Al Capone was alone in the office, and the Change Plague apparently hadn't changed Al's cocaine habit. He was sniffling, snorting, and wiping his nose when Van Alden was ushered in.

"Mueller!" Al seemed happy to see him. "How've ya been? Heard ya got the Plague and all…"

"I am…fine, sir," Van Alden twisted his hat, crushing it between his fingers.

"That's good," Capone nodded. "Frank will be back in a few days. He especially asked me to look you over."

"Me…sir?" Van Alden couldn't help the reflexive hunching of his shoulders, as if his body expected a blow from some unforeseen quarter.

"You're…strange, George," Capone shook his head. "What am I gonna do with you?"

Van Alden felt the blood drain from his face. Last time Capone had said that, he had taken a fork to Van Alden's face.

"Relax, Mueller," Capone chuckled. "I ain't gonna hurt ya. Lookin' for a job?"

"Uh…yes, sir."

"You've proven you can handle yourself in a scrap," Capone mused. "And, like I said, Frank's interested in you; wants to meet you special-like and talk to you. For now, though, you'll be taking over Angie's territory."

"Angie?"

"Angelo Fusco," Capone explained. "The Plague took him, God rest his soul. Any questions?"

More collections…

"When do I start?"

"Right now, Mueller, and the clock's tickin'. Get to work."

So now Van Alden's job was to extort money from hard-working citizens.

Lord, how the mighty have fallen…

But, no matter how low he had fallen, Van Alden still had his duty to his wife and children.

He would to whatever it took to feed them, clothe them, and shelter them. That was his duty as Husband and Father…