by Jack Hunt
Class of 1989
Jack Hunt
Direct Response Publisher
Copyright © 2020 by Jack Hunt
All rights reserved.
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CLASS OF 1989 is a work of fiction. All names, characters, places and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or locales is entirely coincidental.
Also by Jack Hunt
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The Agora Virus series
Phobia
Anxiety
Strain
The War Buds series
War Buds 1
War Buds 2
War Buds 3
Camp Zero series
State of Panic
State of Shock
State of Decay
Renegades series
The Renegades
The Renegades Book 2: Aftermath
The Renegades Book 3: Fortress
The Renegades Book 4: Colony
The Renegades Book 5: United
The Wild Ones Duology
The Wild Ones Book 1
The Wild Ones Book 2
The EMP Survival series
Days of Panic
Days of Chaos
Days of Danger
Days of Terror
The Against All Odds Duology
As We Fall
As We Break
The Amygdala Syndrome series
Unstable
Unhinged
Survival Rules series
Rules of Survival
Rules of Conflict
Rules of Darkness
Rules of Engagement
Lone Survivor series
All That Remains
All That Survives
All That Escapes
All That Rises
Mavericks series
Mavericks: Hunters Moon
Time Agents series
Killing Time
Single Novels
Blackout
Defiant
Darkest Hour
Final Impact
The Year Without Summer
The Last Storm
The Last Magician
The Lookout
For my Family
Contents
Prologue – Plum Island
One - Insect Allies
Two - Gerlach
Three - Fight Or Fu*K
Four - Reunion
Five - I Know What I Saw
Six - Trapped
Seven - The Big Itch
Eight - Wild West
Nine - School’s Out
Ten - Misconduct
Eleven - Quarantine
Twelve - Shots
Thirteen - Bowling
Fourteen - Old-Timer
Fifteen - Burning Man
Sixteen - Accusations
Seventeen - Loss
Eighteen - Left Behind
Nineteen - Overrun
Twenty - Blame
Twenty-One - Baltimore
A Plea
Readers Team
About the Author
Prologue – Plum Island
July 12, 1952
Germ Warfare Animal Disease Lab
Plum Island, New York
Amelia Schmitz vomited over the side of the 108-foot ferryboat as it sailed over the choppy waters off the tip of Long Island’s North Fork. Her stomach roiled with anxiety and seasickness. A gunmetal sky loomed overhead with dark brooding clouds threatening to empty at any moment. She gasped as the merging waters from Long Island Sound and Gardiners Bay spat a spindrift in her face with such velocity it took her breath away. A few nearby passengers snickered. She wiped the acid from her lips with the back of her sleeve before casting an embarrassed glance at the hardened faces of German scientists and lab techs huddled together under the watchful eye of armed guards.
Ahead, an unimposing 840-acre island came into view through thick morning fog. Gulls traveling between the mainland and the island cried as they wheeled overhead. Unbeknownst to Amelia, the work she was about to embark upon would find its way into history, urban legends and the tales of drunken sailors.
It would be a scar on the face of America.
Another notch in the belt of government cover-ups.
Though for Amelia, it was a chance to advance her career, to obtain full U.S. citizenship and leave behind a dark past marred by war. It would mean long and dangerous hours followed by months that would stretch into years — years given in service to the U.S. Navy’s biological warfare program.
“First time on a boat?” a guard asked, adjusting his grip on a rifle.
She nodded, grimacing at the taste of bile in her mouth.
“You’ll get used to it.” He cut her a grin before shaking his head.
At twenty-six, Amelia was the youngest among her peers, a knowledgeable, dark-haired German whose beauty was only rivaled by her intelligence — intelligence that had caught the eye of the SS, the paramilitary organization under Hitler. It wasn’t long before she found herself working in biological warfare projects alongside some of the smartest minds in Germany. One of which had beckoned her west; the scientist and virologist, Frederick Muller. The offer of employment, amnesty and a better life was enticing, but it was her love for him that sealed the deal. Of course, her departure from the motherland after the war was a welcome reprieve from the horrors of a nation tainted by war, never mind the forced labor by Soviets on Riems Island.
At the urging of Frederick, she joined sixteen hundred German scientists, engineers and technicians under the auspices of Operation Paperclip, a U.S. government program that would exploit their scientific knowledge and aid the U.S. in the Cold War and space race against the Soviet Union.
As one war ended, another began behind closed doors.
She was nervous to leave family and all that was familiar, but her parents urged her to not pass up the opportunity. “These things only come along once in a while,” they said. Besides, Amelia imagined working for America couldn’t be as bad as living under the thumb of Soviets.
She gripped a handrail tight, bracing herself with each lift of the boat.
After docking at Plum Island, passengers shuffled off, each one dressed in drab gray. Like a line of ants they were led over a worn trail and through thorny patches of scrub brush to a collection of nondescript concrete buildings; laboratories that housed some of the most dangerous animal diseases, viruses and bacteria in the world. If any of them were to escape and reach the mainland, it would wreak havoc.
She eyed the others, their expressions, the way they carried themselves.
A sense of relief flooded her at the thought of a break from her traveling companions — middle-aged folk who weren’t good at hiding their disapproving eyes, or questions as to why her. Why her indeed? Frederick had plucked her from among many who were better suited for the program. It wasn�
��t her expertise in the field of biological warfare that garnered his attention, but her.
Seventeen years her senior, Frederick was smitten with her. If the attraction wasn’t mutual, she might have rejected his request to aid him in his work as he was old enough to be her father, but it wasn’t his flattery that captivated her but his mind. Frederick’s work in viruses and bacteria inspired her. His intellect, his knowledge and risk to lay it all on the line was something to behold. Every conversation led to new ideas. He was a visionary in her eyes, paving the way for others in a field that few dared to tread. Frederick had been the catalyst for weaponizing the foot-and-mouth disease that was eventually dispersed from aircraft over cattle in Russia. Of course he never received the praise he was due, nor would his name be attached to the program, but she knew the truth.
Trudging toward a low-slung building, Amelia looked off to the east, and observed armed guards patrolling the perimeter in Jeeps to ward off fishermen looking to land on the island’s sandy beaches. Not far from the building she noticed pens of cattle, sheep and pigs that were no doubt being used in experiments to test different forms of viruses. She watched as birds swooped down and perched on their backs only to squawk and fly away, hopefully not carrying unknown pathogens further afield.
As they entered the airtight building, the steady whoosh of air being sucked out through special filters could be heard, a continual vibrating. The group was ushered into a changing room where they were instructed to remove all clothing including rings and eyewear before donning white biological clothes and shoes. Even though men were separated from women, several guards watched over them as they unclothed, making Amelia feel even more uncomfortable.
“At the end of the day, you will use the showers before you leave the lab.” A guard went into a spiel she’d heard before. She didn’t need to be told nor did the rest who were all too familiar with the ritual of scrubbing with germicidal soap before showering, then going through a high-pressure jet that blasted them from every angle. It stung like hell but they couldn’t take any chances even if they were on an isolated island. Even the water that trickled down drainpipes was held in storage tanks ready to be sterilized before being discharged.
An older woman turned to Amelia and muttered, “He’s obviously never worked in a containment lab.” Amelia allowed herself to smile, a moment of connection without judgment. It was refreshing.
The truth was, while most were confined to one lab, it wasn’t uncommon to find their work overlapping, leading to scientists moving from lab to lab throughout the day. All of which required multiple showers to prevent cross contamination.
Slipping her legs into biological clothing, Amelia glanced at a slender woman staring at her trembling hands.
Amelia had seen it before, in Germany, in Russia.
Anxiety was prevalent as was the fear of contamination, breaking rules and being fired and forced to go back to a life that offered little comfort. Many suffered mental breakdowns from the strain and daily stress. The guard in the doorway looked her way, and the woman balled her hands not wanting him to see. Though rarely mentioned or brought to attention stress was often attributed to a weak mind, and those found to be weak were quickly removed to avoid harming themselves or others.
But it was worse than that, it was the unknown, the past, the abuse that tormented. The high risk of being infected was always at the forefront of their minds. It kept workers in a continual state of stress, that and looming deadlines, some of which came under the threat of being shot during wartime.
Ready to begin, they were led through a maze of corridors with labs on either side, each door marked with a different color related to the containment level.
So distracted by the newness of her surroundings, Amelia didn’t register the voice until it repeated.
“Amelia.”
Amelia turned to find Frederick approaching, his face beaming with delight.
“Frederick.”
Middle-aged, with a receding hairline, he looked as if he had aged ten years since she’d last seen him.
“It’s good to see you. I assume you had a pleasant journey?”
“I did.”
He gripped her with both hands and looked beyond her to the others who had no doubts about who he was. “Come. I have much to show you.”
Frederick muttered something to one of the armed guards before he led her away from the rest of the group. “My sweet Amelia. I’m so glad you came. For a moment I thought you might stay. How are your parents?”
“Good,” she said trying to keep up with him. She hadn’t seen him this excited since the first time she met him near the end of the war. His appearance, however, looked less than healthy. Dark circles under his eyes, sunken cheeks made it clear how many hours of sleep he was getting.
“And Juergen?”
Amelia’s chin dipped. Juergen was her older brother. After the war ended and her family found themselves trapped in the Soviet zone of Allied-occupied Germany, they were all forced into labor. She was sent off to Riems Island, and her brother elsewhere. Separated, she had no idea where they’d taken him or her parents. It was only when the British evacuated them and she rejoined her parents that she learned his fate. No details were given as to how he died, but they had their theories. Aware of her brother’s hatred for the Russians, her family concluded he’d attempted to escape and was shot.
“I’m sorry,” Frederick said warmly, covering her hands with his. “We have all lost so many. But you are here now. Safe.”
She wanted to believe him. Truly, she did but there were doubts.
Leading her down a series of steps to the bowels of the building, Frederick peppered her with questions about Germany, old associates, and his family who she’d promised to visit. Frederick spoke with a deep sense of longing, making it clear he was not settled. He guided her to the end of a hallway to a laboratory similar to those in Germany. Thick round glass windows, airtight steel doors and stainless steel interior with high-security locks.
“Frederick, what is the nature of our work here?”
He smiled. “If you were to ask the government — disease research. And though that’s partially true, you and I know they didn’t bring us here for that alone.” He opened a door and prompted her to enter. “Do you recall the experiments at the bioweapons facility on Riems Island?”
“How could I forget?” she said gazing around and taking in the sight of oversized silver machines, some familiar, some unknown.
“We are working on something far greater.” Excited, he showed her what had kept him busy since 1949 when the United States acquired him. He pointed to a few metal crates that were covered. He told her there were rabbits inside. “You will recall us weaponizing the foot-and-mouth disease virus and then having a Luftwaffe bomber disperse it onto cattle using aerial sprays over occupied Russia with the intent to cripple their food supply.”
She nodded.
“Though it was effective, its reach was limited.” He took out a tray from a cabinet and showed it to her. Contained inside was a strip of clay. To the naked eye it was hard to perceive anything more until Frederick placed it under the microscope. “Go ahead, take a look.”
Amelia leaned in and squinted as she pressed an eye to the scope.
“Ticks?”
He nodded. “Since my arrival we have been raising hundreds of thousands of ticks with the purpose of inoculating them with different disease agents and viruses that can be transmitted to both animals and humans.”
“That must be time consuming.”
He shook his head. “It only requires inoculating one female. They will go on to lay thousands of eggs, each carrying various diseases and viruses.”
Her eyes widened. “They wouldn’t even know they were bitten.”
He nodded.
Amelia studied him. “Have you tested this?”
“This method, not yet, but trials will commence shortly here on the island. Though there has been a variety of experiments conducted
with different bacteria and organisms already. One occurred two years ago in San Francisco. Operation Sea-Spray. It was a success. The goal was to test the susceptibility of a big city to a bioweapon and see how far the bacteria could travel. The last was conducted a year ago in Norfolk with fungal spores released by workers unpacking crates. Since then we have been ramping up and working toward taking various fleas, ticks, mosquitoes and weaponizing them with plague, cholera and other strains of diseases and viruses.”
“To be loaded into munitions and dropped over enemy territory,” she said.
He nodded.
“A stealth weapon?” Amelia added.
“Exactly. Once bitten it will spread quickly and reduce numbers drastically.”
One - Insect Allies
Monday, August 31, 2020
Baltimore, Maryland
They wanted to kill him, or at least strip him of his credentials.
Dr. Miles Jones knew the risk he was taking getting involved in the program and contributing his knowledge of entomology and research of disease transmission, still, change didn’t happen unless risks were taken.
Under the glaring lights, he felt a bead of sweat trickle down his temple. Casually he wiped it away while turning toward a room full of eyes, each one boring into him with skepticism. He squinted as he stared out at the audience gathered for the annual Global Science Summit. His talk that morning was on a new and cutting-edge program DARPA was working on with a budget of $45 million. What he’d shared so far had already raised more than a few eyebrows.
“…simply put, at the heart of the program is food security. Nothing more, nothing less.”