by Ralph Gibbs
“Desperate or not, to stem the migration, I’ve ordered the military to secure the border,” the president said. “No one, and I mean no one, comes north. We don’t have the resources to take care of our own people much less anyone else’s. I hate to be this way, but I don’t see that we have much choice. At least for now.”
“What’s it like on the southern side of the border?” White asked.
“At the moment, not good,” General Angles said. “They’re running out of food, sanitation is non-existent, and violence is on the upswing. As more people arrive near the border, it’ll only get worse. They’re getting angrier, more violent and more organized.
“We’re also starting to see heavy weapons,” General Jackson added. “Yesterday, someone showed up with a tank. We destroyed it, but it’s only a matter of time before more show up.”
“But they’re contained?” the president asked.
“Mostly,” General Angles said. “You have to remember, some of these people were adept at border crossing. We’re keeping them back, but a few are slipping through using old smuggler tunnels.”
“Is there no leadership we can talk to?” White asked.
“None that we’re aware of,” Walsh said.
“What about the seas?” White asked.
“Heavy seas have been keeping them at bay, but that won’t last,” General Angles said.
“General Angles,” President Dixon said with authority, “order the two carrier groups we have left to the area. Station one in the Pacific and the other in the Gulf of Mexico. Can we secure the use of the Panama Canal for our smaller ships?”
“I doubt it,” Walsh said. “But they can try. If not, the Navy will need to raid the coastline for supplies as they circle Cape Horn.”
“They have my authorization to do whatever’s necessary to get there, but get there,” the president said. “Once there, order them to secure the coastline and keep people from using the oceans to get through our borders. Treat it like an invasion.”
“I’ll send the order immediately,” General Angles said.
“I also want a twenty-five-mile buffer zone inside the Mexican border,” the president continued. “In the morning broadcast our intentions for the buffer zone. Drop a single bomb for emphasis if you have to. Do whatever is needed, general, to secure that border. By the time you’re done, I want the border between North and South Korea to look like an amusement park by comparison.”
“Yes, Mr. President,” Generals Angles and Jackson said nearly in unison.
“Also, get with the intelligence department and secure a list of Mexican military bases,” the president ordered. “I want them all destroyed by the end of the month.”
“Sir, if you do this, they will never forgive us,” Yeager said. “If we do this, sometime in the future, we’ll pay for this.”
“I know,” President Dixon said sounding despondent. “I don’t do this lightly, but I’m not the president of the world, I’m the president of the United States, charged with its security. The United States is my priority. I’ll do what’s necessary and securing our border is a necessary first step. Get a broadcast station up and running near the border. Drop leaflets letting the Mexicans know we don’t have a cure or a vaccine. When we come up with one, we’ll share it. And if there’s a leader, have them contact us ASAP.”
“Are we working on a vaccine?” General Angles asked.
“Funny, you should ask that,” the president answered. He hit the intercom. “Put them through.” He waited a moment for two faces to pop up next to Vice President White. “Gentlemen, I’d like you all to meet Vasily Nargshkin, the current Russian President, and Doctor Olofsson, who you’re familiar with.
“It is a pleasure to meet you,” President Nargshkin said in his thick Russian accent.
“President Nargshkin has made a proposal, and I have accepted,” President Dixon said. “Right now, we are short-handed in the research area. So is Russia, China and all of Europe. Basically, it’s mine and President Nargshkin’s belief that we cannot come up with a vaccine on our own. So, we’ll pool our resources in a joint venture, and gather together any top remaining scientists and set them to produce a vaccine.”
“Why bother?” General Angles asked. “It was my understanding the danger’s passed. Once you’re infected, you can’t be re-infected.”
“That might be true,” Sten Olofsson said. “However, there were instances in ancient Greece of people being re-infected, albeit not as intensely. Though it can’t be discounted that they developed a different disease and the Greeks just assumed it was the Athenian Plague again.”
“That still doesn’t answer the question,” General Angles said. “Why waste resources better spent elsewhere?”
“You should study your history more, General,” Doctor Delgado said.
“Sir, I’ll have you know—”
“Yes, yes,” Delgado said, waving his hand dismissively. “I’m sure you know your military history well enough, but you need to brush up on your plague history. The first known case of the Athenian Plague was in 430 BCE, but it hit twice after that. The second time came a year later and two years after that,” Dr. Delgado said.
“But then it disappeared,” Vice President White said.
“Maybe,” Doctor Olofsson said. “There are some that believe smallpox is a mutation of the Athenian Plague. Something like its cousin, aunt, sister, brother twice removed.”
“It’s also just as possible that a strain of the smallpox virus mutated into the Athenian Plague, and then died out,” Doctor Delgado said.
“Gentlemen we can theorize later,” the president cut in. “Time is short.”
“Sorry, Mr. President,” Doctor Delgado said. “Whatever its origin, the fact is the Athenian Plague is back in the population, and we can’t count on it going away this time. While many of us may be immune, those that never got it for whatever reason are not. Then there are future generations. Any child born in the next several years is at risk as are their children and their children after that. Let me put it to you this way; during the twentieth century, it’s believed that smallpox was responsible for three hundred to five hundred million deaths. If this is a new or old version of the smallpox virus, how many more will this plague kill?”
“For that reason, I have accepted Russia’s proposal of a collaboration,” President Dixon said. “President Nargshkin, how many scientists can you commit to this endeavor?”
“At least six, Mr. President,” he said. “Maybe more, but I know of at least six.”
“I’ve discussed this with the CDC, and they will match that number, plus Doctor Olofsson will bring another eight,” Doctor Delgado said.
“Nine if you count my daughter,” Doctor Olofsson said. “This is her area of expertise. I dare say she will be my top expert in the matter. Once she arrives, I’ll be putting her in charge of my group.”
“Is something the matter, Mr. Walsh?” President Dixon asked. “You look like you’ve just seen a ghost.”
“No sir,” Walsh said, thinking back to his conversation with Paris. “Nothing that a little rum won’t wash down. It seems I’ll have to swallow some crow. But it’s not the first time, nor will it be the last.”
“When can you get Doctor Olofsson’s daughter here?” the president asked.
“I’m scheduled to make contact soon,” Walsh said. “I don’t know the state of the airports in her area, but if we send helicopters and a military escort, we could have her here by the end of the week, the middle of next week at the latest.”
“Let’s make that happen,” the president said.
“Yes sir,” Walsh replied.
“What about Doctor Olofsson?” the president asked.
“That’s more problematic,” Walsh said. “Doctor, I’ll need you to find out if the local airports are clear. If not, you’ll need to clear them. Once you find a suitable airport, let me know which one. Mr. President, we’ll have to do the same here. We don’t have any aircraft that
can fly from here to Sweden without refueling. We’ll need to clear an airport somewhere on the East Coast so we can land and refuel.”
“What if we pick him up?” President Nargshkin asked. “Save you a trip. We’re headed in that direction, anyway.”
Walsh shrugged. “It’ll help,” Walsh said. “We’ll still need to clear an airport on the East Coast so we can refuel you.”
“Actually, we won’t,” General Jackson said. “We can refuel them in the air.”
“And if something happens, and it turns out you can’t?” Walsh asked.
“I agree,” the president said. “We need an emergency backup plan. Work out the logistics and get back to me. The next question is, where are we going to conduct this joint research project?”
The light on the phone in front of Walsh lit up, indicating he had a call. He frowned, wondering if he should take it, and then picked up the receiver. “I see,” he said after a moment. “Okay, I’ll be right there.” He hung up the receiver and turned to the president. “Sir, I have an emergency.”
“Another one,” the president said.
“Agent Ishida has called in, and there’s a problem,” he said. “It’s a matter of life and death.”
The president stood up and said, “Thank you for attending gentlemen. That concludes the meeting. We’ll all get together and discuss the research project in more detail later. President Nargshkin, I’ll call you in a couple of hours.”
“Thank you, President Dixon,” the Russian president said.
A few minutes later, Walsh, President Dixon, and several others from the meeting rushed into the computer communications room.
“What’s the emergency?” the president asked.
“Mr. President,” the watchstander said, standing and giving a crisp salute.
“I’m the emergency,” Paris said from one of the computer screens.
“Agent Ishida,” the president said. “Where are you?”
“Sir, we need anti-venom,” Paris said, hurriedly. “Nate was bitten by a Rattlesnake.”
“Is that the bow and arrow boy?” the president asked.
“Yes, sir.”
“How’s he doing?”
“Not good, sir. He’s in a lot of pain and in and out of consciousness.”
The president picked up the phone and said, “This is President Dixon. Send my personal doctor to the communications room ASAP.”
“Do you have any anti-venom you can send?” Paris asked when he hung up the phone. “I know we’re not a priority, but this is a child we’re talking about.”
The phone rang. The watchstander picked it up, listened, and handed the phone to the president. “Sir, it’s the doctor.”
“Put him on speaker,” the president ordered.
“Mr. President, are you all right?” the male voice said.
“I’m fine, Paul,” the president said. “We have a young boy bitten by a snake that needs your help.
“How’s he doing?” Paul asked.
“Not well,” Gunilla yelled from behind Paris. “His arm is completely swollen. The last time he was awake, he couldn’t move. He’s in and out of consciousness, has difficulty breathing, rapid pulse and low blood pressure with occasional body spasms. I’ve given him morphine for the pain.”
“Mr. President, we have to get that boy here right away,” the doctor said. “He needs anti-venom as soon as possible.”
“Then, you have some?” Gunilla asked.
“We have a small supply,” the doctor replied.
“Let’s make these people a priority,” the president said to Walsh.
“You folks hang on,” the president said, turning to the computer. “We’re coming to get you. Where are you?”
“At a local clinic near the town of Angry, South Carolina.
The president and Walsh consulted a map.
“You’ll need to make your way to the airport in Columbia,” Walsh said.
“Sir, that could take us days,” Paris said. “The roads are hard to get through sometimes. Isn’t there any place closer?”
“I’m afraid not,” Walsh said. “We have a small military detachment already on the ground there as of yesterday with a mission to clear the runways. We don’t have an idea about any other airports. If you want to save your friend, Columbia is your best bet. A plane will be leaving here within the hour. It’ll be waiting for you when you get there.”
“Mr. President,” Paul said. “I need to be on that plane.”
“Agreed,” the president said.
CHAPTER 44
Paris slammed the laptop shut. “All right everybody, time to roll,” she shouted. The sound of her voice echoed through the empty halls. “Grab whatever’s useful, but we’re moving out in three minutes.”
“What’s the plan?” Toscana asked as she entered the room with Matthew hanging onto her skirt. Anita moved quickly to Nate’s side and took hold of his other hand and squeezed tightly, tears flowing freely.
“We’re heading to Columbia,” Paris answered. “The president promised to send transport to pick us up.”
“That arm looks bad,” Toscana said. “Maybe you should take it off.”
“It’s too late for that,” Gunilla said. “We’ve taken out as much poison as we could, but it’s spread beyond his arm now. Anti-venom is his only chance.”
“How long to get to Columbia?” Toscana asked worriedly.
“If this was a normal road trip, a few of hours,” Paris said, “but considering the road conditions . . .,” Paris shrugged.
“Will he survive that long?” Toscana asked.
“He’ll live,” Paris said firmly. As they wheeled Nate into the lobby, Ruiz pulled up to the emergency exit driving an ambulance.
“I couldn’t find the keys, so I hot-wired the damn thing,” Ruiz said.
“That’s perfect,” Gunilla said, almost smiling. As they transferred Nate to the ambulance’s gurney, Gunilla got in the back and began to prep the vehicle for the journey.
Franklin and Danica jumped into the lead vehicle with Paris riding in the ambulance beside Ruiz. Toscana, Matthew and Tempest trailed the ambulance with eight other vehicles following. By the time the convoy arrived back at the interstate, the sun was low on the horizon, and Danica figured within half an hour darkness would engulf them. The map they consulted showed the interstate as the fastest route to Columbia, but with all the bridges between them and the airport, they estimated it would be quicker to take side roads. They picked up several chainsaws along the way to deal with downed trees. As they crossed the interstate, Danica spotted a line of vehicles heading south.
“Oh shit,” Danica said.
“Looks like the major’s group found us,” Franklin said.
“How do we know it’s them?”
“It’s them.” They watched as the convoy came to a stop. “Lucky for us, the sun is in their eyes.” Franklin studied them for a moment. “I think we might be able to salvage this.” Franklin started forward at a slow pace. He drove like someone who didn’t have a care in the world. He even rolled down his window and waved. They did not return the gesture. “Right now, they’re having the same conversation we are. The problem for them is we’re coming from the wrong direction and heading in the wrong direction. As long as we don’t panic, we won’t seem like people on the run. If we get lucky, they’ll continue down the interstate.”
“Except we’re a large group,” Danica said. “I can’t imagine they run into large groups on the road that often, especially when they’re hunting for a large group.”
Franklin turned to look at her and said, “One glass-half-empty woman in this group is enough.”
“I hope no one panics.”
“If they do, we’re done.” Just as the last of the convoy made it across the bridge, several of the Atlanta group’s vehicles moved out of formation and headed toward them.
“So much for luck,” Danica said.
“Our luck’s still holding. It’s only a few, so they’r
e still not sure it’s us. Once they get close enough to make a determination, they’ll radio back.”
“Then they’ll come at us.”
“With everything they have.”
As soon as the last of the convoy crossed over and was hidden from view, Franklin, throwing caution to the wind, accelerated. He took advantage of what light was left to put as much distance as he could between his group and the Atlanta group’s investigative team. As he rounded a bend, he spotted a small tree down across the road. Franklin didn’t slow as he hit the tree. The force of the impact snapped it in half. Franklin knew they were lucky. If that tree had been thicker, they would have been screwed. It was time to take direct action. After rounding another bend, Franklin pulled over and hopped out. He waved Toscana up from behind the ambulance.
Toscana rolled down her window. “Did they find us?”
“They will shortly,” Franklin said as he used the butt of his rifle to bust out his brake lights. “I’ll slow them down.”
“I’ll help,” Paris said starting to get out of the ambulance.
“Not this time,” Franklin said. “I’m calling in my marker. I want you to watch after Matthew. You owe me that.” He could tell Paris was torn, but she nodded her acceptance. Franklin wanted Paris by his side in this fight. She’d proven herself more than capable, and he trusted her, but she’d been through more than any one person should. She could sit this one out. “Toscana, you take the lead. Pick up the pace for a few miles. Keep your high beams on, and your eyes peeled to the road. Danica, you ride with Toscana.”
“I don’t think so,” Danica said, opening the trunk of Toscana’s car and pulling out a rifle and reloads. “You’ll need help.” He started to argue but thought better of it and just nodded his acceptance. “Paris, don’t wait for us. When that plane gets there, you get on board and go. We’ll be along, eventually. Paris, keep a watch on my car. When I turn off my lights, gun it.”
“Hold on a minute,” Paris said as she rummaged through the vehicle. She jotted numbers on an old used envelope and handed it to Franklin. “Find a satellite phone and use this number to call me.”