Decimation Series (Book 1): Contagion

by Lorch, Jeff

  After the last two weeks, I was beyond tears, but the enormity of it all still shook me to my core.

  I didn’t know what percentage of the population of armed forces members had been affected by the pathogen, but it was going to be significant. Doing some quick math in my head and made a few educated guesses including the fact that hundreds of thousands of military personnel had been posted abroad at the time of the outbreak, and I figured there were likely fewer than three or four hundred thousand surviving soldiers scattered across the entire continent. That sounded like a lot until you consider that pre-outbreak that number was more like 2.5 million.

  We were ripe for the picking.

  “From what Trey told me, the way their people see it there are three potential reactions to an invasion:

  “First, will be a conventional warfare conflict on North American soil following the invasion. This will leave us at a huge disadvantage, and by us I’m referring to all of us; Mexicans, Americans and Canadians, civilian and military alike, since we’re all in the same boat. This would likely be supported by guerilla actions wherever the Russians set foot, but they don’t believe this is winnable for a couple reasons, namely depleted resources and lack of infrastructure. The deciding factor here would be how the rest of the world reacts; as you just said, everyone out there is taking advantage of the situation and squabbling over their little corner of the sandbox, so it’s unlikely the rest of the world would come together to form a united resistance against Russia. And even if they did, unless China was on-board, it’s unlikely they would be strong enough. With the US off the board, Russia slides into the top dog spot in terms of global military strength. China is the only country with the strength to maybe stand up to Russia, but they can’t do it alone, and realistically the Chinese and Russian governments are so friendly right now, the intelligence coming out of the US says it’s most likely that they’ll hit us together and divide the spoils. If those two join forces, which is very likely by the sound of it, then we have no chance; zero. They will be able to march from coast to coast to coast within a year.”

  I saw Maj. Heath nodding, following along with Trey’s logic. Col. Scott was silent, but I thought he was on the same page.

  “The second option is a full nuclear release in retaliation; the Scorched Earth option, as he put it. Mutually-assured destruction put to the test. From what his sources are telling him, people from the US that are still connected to the office of the President, this is the direction that idiot is leaning towards, which I’m sure won’t come as much of a surprise to anyone in this room. Apparently, he’s sitting in some bunker with his finger on the button right now ready to burn the whole playhouse down.”

  The enormity of what I had just said weighed heavy in the room. Unlike my parents, who lived through the Cold War and were taught ‘duck and cover’ drills in school, I grew up with the spirit of Glasnost, so the harsh possibility of global nuclear destruction had never been a real threat to me, until now.

  An exchange of nuclear missiles between the US and Russia would spark a firestorm that would rage across the entire planet. The initial loss of human life would be in the hundreds of millions, but the real damage would be the complete destruction of the ecosystems, possibly the entire biosphere of our planet. Whole countries would be reduced to toxic wastelands, rendered uninhabitable for hundreds of years, and the nuclear winter resulting from the fallout would plunge the earth into a new ice-age. Billions more would die in the months and years to follow with starvation and famine spanning the entire globe. The damage to the planet’s weather patterns and ecosystem would be so catastrophic, life as we know it would likely be gone within a generation, maybe two at the most.

  “Here comes the hard part,” I said. “There’s a third option, as they see it; it’s the one that their brain trust sees as having the highest likelihood of guaranteeing not just our survival, but survival of the human race on a global scale. Level the playing field with a global release of a bioweapon of our own.”

  ♦♦♦

  I sat back in my chair, spent. I looked at my cup of coffee, long since cold. I had done my job, I had delivered the information to where it needed to be, and most importantly I got them to listen. Whatever they chose to do with the information they had wasn’t up me, and I was glad I wasn’t the one making the decision. Engage in a war there was no chance of winning, let the sociopathic simpleton in the White House nuke the planet into the stone age, or release a bioweapon the would kill billions more just to put the world back on an even political basis and give everyone a chance at some kind of future, no matter how bleak.

  I was sick even thinking about the options. I was done, burnt out, empty. There was nothing more I could do here. I just wanted to find a corner where I could curl up, hold my kids in my arms and cry myself to sleep.

  I nodded towards Trey’s notebook on the desk. “It’s all in there. He’s given you all the information they have, including how to contact them. Moving forward you’re going to have to include them in your planning; if they’re right, everyone is going to have to work together if any of us are going to have a chance.”

  After a moment of silence, Colonel Scott pushed his chair back and stood, followed immediately by Major Heath.

  “Mrs. Hayes,” the colonel said, “thank you for your efforts. I can’t tell you what’s next, but I can tell you I’ll make sure this information gets into the right hands. Meanwhile I can offer you and your family a home here at Cold Lake for as long as you need it.”

  “Thank you, Colonel, I think we’ll take you up on that. I’ve spent enough time behind the wheel to last me for a while,” I said, standing, turning to leave. I stopped and turned back to him. “Actually, I guess there is one more thing I need.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

  Maj. Jameson Heath

  Day 12

  ‘What a clusterfuck,’ I thought to myself as I left the administration office, a brown manila envelope in my hand.

  I couldn’t believe that I had just sat through a debriefing outlining the possible end of the world as we know it, and it had been delivered by a civilian, or a ‘soccer mom’ as Col. Scott had called her earlier, according to what the soldier who had tracked him down and called him to the meeting had said.

  I shook my head in silent wonder. That Mrs. Hayes was a pretty remarkable woman. She had been through a non-stop nightmare getting across the wasteland this country had become to get her family reunited and here to safety, and now she wanted to leave again right away, even if it was just temporary.

  I walked out of the building into the brilliant sunset of a clear October evening. Mrs. Hayes sat alone on a bench near the front entrance.

  “Did you get settled in okay?” I asked. I had grabbed a private and had her lead them to their new home. We had groups of civilians quartered in a couple of barracks-style buildings here at the base, with more coming in daily; under the circumstances I figured these people deserved a bit better than that, so I had arranged for them to have one of the empty family residences we kept for base personnel.

  “We did, thank you very much. The private was kind enough to give us a quick tour of the base. We’ll make sure not to get in anyone’s way, and if there’s anything we can do to help contribute here, please let us know.”

  I nodded, thanking her. “You’re planning to head out tomorrow morning I take it?” I said to her as I handed her the envelope I had been carrying. Inside it was a personnel file. The name on the top corner was Corporal S. Kelley.

  She nodded.

  Corporal Kelley’s home address was in Lac la Biche, a small rural community on the shores of a beautiful lake about one hundred and fifty klicks northwest of us. Likely a two-hour drive or so, assuming she didn’t run into any problems.

  “I’m sorry I can’t send any men with you, but we just don’t have the personnel to spare.”

  She nodded, understanding.

  “I made it almost thirty-five hundred kilometres to get here,”
she said with a small smile. “I think I can make it another hundred or two.”

  She held the envelope in her hand and looked down at it, her eyes wet.

  “I can’t imagine a better way for you to honour him than what you’re doing,” I said quietly. Her plan was to go find Cpl. Kelley’s family and inform them of his fate, and to see if they wanted to come back to Cold Lake with her. “He must have been one hell of a soldier.”

  She looked up at me, smiling, and wiped the tears from her eyes.

  “He was a good friend.”

  ♦♦♦

  Later that evening I returned to meet with Col. Scott in his office and discuss our options. He was sitting behind his desk, hunched over the notebook delivered by Mrs. Hayes.

  He didn’t look up as I entered; I took that as leave to have a seat, which I did. Several minutes and page-flips later, the colonel leaned back in his chair and dropped his glasses on the table in front of him. He let out a heavy breath. He rubbed his eyes, and then looked at me, blinking.

  “You look like shit, if I may say so sir,” I said to him. I had known him for years, and despite being my superior I considered him a good friend. I figured I could get away with a comment like that.

  He smiled grimly. “I can’t imagine why,” he said with a dry laugh. His laughter died quickly as he stared at the notebook open on his desk.

  “So, does it look legit?” I asked quietly.

  He nodded gently. It looked to me like he had aged years in the last hour.

  “I’m afraid it does,” he said in a quiet voice. “Sure, some of it’s pretty disjointed and thrown-together, and there’s no way to cross-check most of the sources. But if you are asking me what my gut says, I’d say yeah, it all looks like it’s on the level.”

  I took a deep breath and released it. I felt dead inside.

  “I guess it looks like I’m making a trip back to Trenton,” I said.

  The Special Forces branch of the Canadian Armed Forces were based out of Petawawa, Ontario, but the CJIRU, the Canadian Joint Incident Response Unit, was headquartered at 18 Wing CFB Trenton, Ontario. Not very far from where Mrs. Hayes and her family started their journey, I thought. The CJIRU was the Canadian special forces unit tasked with handling all CBRN incidents; Chemical, Biological, Radiological and Nuclear. The nightmare that was contained in the notebook on the desk in front of Col. Scott fell smack dab in the middle of that unit’s commission.

  The CJIRU were a unit of rough and tumble special forces bad-asses that were ready to drop into any situation, against any odds, at any time.

  My unit.

  My team had been lucky enough to be in Panama at the time of the outbreak, helping train local law enforcement to assist in dealing with Colombian drug cartels and enjoying some time on the local beaches.

  When the shit really hit the fan, we had been recalled to Trenton for orders. I had a lot of good friends who hadn’t been so lucky; people who were at home during the outbreak and had gotten sick.

  I was glad I missed the first twenty-four hours of this shitstorm.

  Once home, we had been spread out to the four corners of the compass since the outbreak, putting personnel on site at every active base across the country, keeping our noses in the wind to catch a scent. My nose didn’t just catch a scent, I got bopped hard on the beak with a rolled-up paper notebook.

  “I heard Dr. Reynolds and his team are back in camp. What does he have to say?” I asked, half-knowing the answer but afraid to hear it anyway. One of our camp physicians had taken a team of soldiers with him five days ago to conduct an informal study; to observe the infected to try to establish some baseline of how long we could expect them to last on their own. We needed to know how long before they would begin to die off.

  Colonel Scott nodded silently and took a deep breath, as if trying to gather the strength to speak.

  “He has confirmed his original suspicions. The infected just aren’t dying off as we had initially expected they would. They’re living out there like wild animals, gathering in groups, living in dens. His team found areas where the infected are settling in, find basic shelters for themselves in wrecked buildings and cars. The groups are even beginning to fight with other groups of infected, as if for territory. He observed groups of infected drinking water from dirty puddles in the street day after day with no obvious adverse effects. He said something about believing the pathogen infection is so strong it’s destroying any other bacteria or viruses, other threats to the infected’s health. The irony is that the infection is keeping them alive where an uninfected human would likely die from malnourishment, dehydration or exposure.” He closed his eyes, trying to repress a shudder. “And with all of the dead out there, there’s no shortage of food for them.”

  I let that sink in. Ironically, one of the saving graces to this infection had been the mortality ratio; all the briefings we had seen had told us to expect a quick burn-rate, that the hordes of infected would die off quickly, and then we could begin the long process of rebuilding.

  Dr. Reynolds’ findings snuffed out that dim light, that slim glimmer of hope that at least part of this nightmare would be over quickly.

  I reached out and took the notebook from the desk in front of Col. Scott. It looked like we finally had something to go on.

  I guess it was time to get the band back together.