The Project Eden Thrillers Box Set 1: Books 1 - 3 (Sick, Exit 9, & Pale Horse)

by Brett Battles

  To add to her annoyance, her brother still hadn’t gotten back to her. He’d given her that great lead then poof—disappeared. She’d just tried to call him again, but when she got his voice mail once more, she’d hung up and called her parents.

  “Tammy, please tell me everything’s fine,” her mother said. The last time Tamara could call them had been the previous day right after the news broke. “We’ve been glued to the TV every second we’ve been awake. They keep showing that part where you and your friends are running to the helicopters. I wish they’d stop that. It nearly gives me a heart attack every time.”

  “Mom, just turn it off when it comes on,” Tamara said. “Or just switch to another channel.”

  “I couldn’t do that. Your ratings.”

  Tamara’s mom had it in her mind that every single household was monitored and counted in a network’s ratings. Even if that were true, PCN’s ratings wouldn’t have suffered from the temporary loss of one viewer. Especially not now, when Tamara was sure that if a TV was on somewhere, it was tuned to one of the news channels.

  “Mom, have you heard from Gavin?”

  “No, dear. But you know your brother. He gets tunnel vision. Probably working on a project.”

  Tamara frowned. He did get tunnel vision at times, but he’d never let her down like this before. “Okay. Thanks. That’s all I wanted to know.”

  “Tammy?” her dad said. He’d obviously been listening in on the other line. “Have you talked to your boss? They need to get you out of there. You’re right in the middle of everything.”

  “I’m a news correspondent, Dad. I’m always in the middle of things. Besides, everything’s fine here. The closest outbreak is at least fifty miles away.”

  “But you never know, sweetie. The sooner you get out of there, the better your mother and I are going to feel.”

  “Don’t worry so much. I’ll be fine.” She noticed Joe trying to wave her over to where the majority of the media was hanging out. “Look, I’ve got to go. I love you.”

  “We love you, too,” her mother said.

  “Very much,” her dad added.

  “Okay. Bye.”

  She hung up, then hurried over to her producer. “What’s up?”

  “Just got off the phone with Irene,” he whispered. Irene was their boss in New York. “She says they’ve been negotiating with the Army to get us taken out to the I-15 roadblock.”

  “That’s great!”

  “What’s great?” Peter Chavez, a reporter with one of the wire services, turned and asked.

  “Uh, nothing, Peter,” Joe said, then smiled. “Just…telling Tammy about what I’m getting my wife for her birthday.”

  Peter didn’t look convinced. “Really?”

  “Yeah,” Tamara said, trying to cover her mistake. “He’s taking her to Paris. Isn’t that cool?”

  Peter frowned. “Guess salaries are nicer over there at Generic Cable News.”

  “I guess they are,” Joe replied. He then grabbed Tamara’s arm and moved her away from the crowd. “What an ass.”

  “When will we know about going to the roadblock?” she whispered.

  “I’m not sure. Soon, I hope.”

  Not too far away, a TV had been set up under a canopy so that people with nothing to do could watch. The screen suddenly filled with some jumpy, low-quality video, catching Tamara’s eye.

  “What’s that?” she asked.

  Joe looked over and shook his head. “I don’t know.”

  Quickly they both made their way to the back of the group watching the television.

  “Bobby,” Tamara said, noticing her cameraman a couple people ahead of her.

  When he turned, she motioned for him to join them in the back.

  As soon as he moved in beside her, she asked, “What is that?”

  “Somebody just uploaded it to the Internet,” he said. “Some sort of skirmish at a roadblock just east of Tehachapi.”

  Tehachapi was west of the town of Mojave, which was in the quarantine zone, and east of Bakersfield, which was not.

  The footage looked like it had been shot on a camera phone. There were several dozen people pushing and shoving. Most were civilians, but there were a few people in uniforms, too.

  This went on for several seconds, then a face flashed across the screen that caused Tamara to jerk back, startled.

  It was Gavin, or someone who sure looked a hell of a lot like him. She pushed her way through the crowd so she could get closer to the screen.

  Whoever was holding the camera seemed to be moving slightly away from the crowd. She could see the whole mob now, pushing and shoving at each other. She tried to find the guy who looked like Gavin, but didn’t see him.

  A voice cut over the video, distorted by the poor quality of the camera’s microphone.

  “Most of these guys…I think have family…in the…zone.” The speaker’s voice was punctuated by deep breaths. “They want to get in…but…the soldiers are…trying to push them…back. It looks like some…people are getting through.”

  The shot zoomed in on a small group that was trying to go around the end of the roadblock while the soldiers were busy with the larger crowd. Suddenly several members of the big group saw what was happening and took off after the others, no doubt hoping that they, too, could get through. The trickle became a stream, then a river.

  At the edge of the pack, two soldiers went down. As soon as their colleagues saw this, they opened fire.

  “Oh, my God!” someone standing near Tamara yelled out as civilians started falling to the ground.

  But Tamara couldn’t even speak. She had seen Gavin again. He was wearing one of the shirts she’d given him for Christmas. And when the chaos was at its height, it looked very much like a bullet had hit him, too. Only unlike the others, he hadn’t fallen away from the roadblock, but toward it, like he’d been shot from the other direction. And then there was the look on his face a moment before he went down, a look of disorientation and confusion.

  Like he had no idea what he was doing there in the first place.

  The pressure in her head built until she could almost take it no more. How she didn’t scream, she had no idea.

  THERE WAS ANOTHER conference call at noon. Since this one had been arranged ahead of time, they were connected via video chat. Though both Dr. Karp and Major Ross were at the Marin County location, each was in his own office. Shell was in a hotel room somewhere near the quarantine zone, and the Director of Preparation was at Bluebird. Of course the DOP’s feed was blacked out. The project’s number one guideline was that the members of the Bluebird Directorate were to remain anonymous.

  “Dr. Karp, do you have the latest statistics on the outbreak?” the DOP asked.

  The doctor leaned forward a few inches. “I talked to our source at the CDC five minutes ago, so the numbers I’m about to give you are as up to date as possible. Dead—three hundred and twenty-one. Currently infected—five hundred and seventeen. This information, of course, has not been released to the public yet. But I doubt they will be getting any—”

  “That’s enough for the moment,” the DOP said, cutting him off. “Mr. Shell, your update, please.”

  “Yes, sir,” Shell said, adjusting himself in his chair. “On the quarantine front, state and military officials have a pretty good handle on containment for the majority of the population. Fortunately, the outbreak occurred in an open and underpopulated area.”

  “It was not fortunate, Mr. Shell,” Dr. Karp broke in. “It was by design. Why do you think we chose Barker Flats in the first place?”

  “Thank you, doctor,” the DOP said. “Mr. Shell, please continue.”

  Shell took a loud, annoyed breath, then said, “As you know, our strategy is one of plugging the holes the official response can’t handle. With your help, Director, I have my main team using Fort Irwin in Barstow as its base. Thank you for making that happen.” He paused, but the DOP said nothing. “I, uh, also have a team set up at a private
airfield north of Victorville. Using thermal satellite imagery, we have been able to track in real time individuals who’ve tried to get out of the zone over the open desert. So far there have been twenty-eight attempts, and my people have stopped all of them.” There was no need for him to say what stopping meant. They all knew he was tasked with removing problems, not jailing them.

  “Do you have any idea how many of those were actually infected?”

  “Obviously, we wouldn’t be able to know that without proper tests, but I can say with confidence that six showed outward signs of KV-27a infection. My teams continue to monitor the intel, and are ready to move on any new escape attempts at a moment’s notice.”

  “It’s critical that no one gets out,” the DOP said.

  “Yes, sir. Of course.”

  “Please continue.”

  “Yes, sir. There was the matter of the reporter’s brother.”

  “Yes. Gavin Costello. A mistake to pick him up in the first place.”

  Shell looked uncomfortable. “Yes, sir. Things were a little fluid at that point, and there was no telling what he might dig up for his sister.”

  “Mr. Shell, I’m not fond of glossing over mistakes. There was nothing for him to dig up that would have harmed us. It was a mistake from the beginning.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  Dr. Karp kept his expression neutral, but inside he was laughing as Shell squirmed.

  “Continue your report.”

  “Concerning Gavin Costello. Unfortunately, we couldn’t just let him go, especially given his sister’s high-profile job. Elimination was the only answer. We started spreading a rumor among people who were stranded in the Bakersfield area that the roadblock east of Tehachapi was going to be opened. When they arrived and found that it was still closed and would remain so, with the prodding of some of my men scattered within the group, they rioted. As soon as the military opened fire, one of my men eliminated Mr. Costello. When he is finally identified, his presence can easily be explained as concern for his sister.”

  “And Ash?” the DOP asked.

  “As you know we traced the original car to a parking garage at a casino in Nevada. I then gave a team instructions to trace the paths of every car that left that garage in the following four hours.”

  Shell’s face was replaced by a thermal satellite image. Along the left side was a busy freeway running basically from bottom to top. It was covered with dozens of bright, warm blobs indicating vehicles.

  “Please notice the spot near the midpoint of the picture. This is the most likely candidate.”

  The spot in question was down an empty road that led off from the freeway. It was faint, but definitely warmer than the surrounding area.

  “We were able to trace this car from the casino to this point. The heat signature you are looking at was generated by a person sitting inside a car. When it arrived here, there were two people, one up front, and one lying in the back. The driver got out, walked to the road, and was picked up three minutes later.” He then explained how the person in back got out, and eventually took a seat up front. He showed another picture. In this one, a larger vehicle was parked next to the smaller one. “The man transferred to the new vehicle and they left.”

  “Were you able to follow it, too?” the DOP asked.

  Shell hesitated. “We were able to follow them south for about twenty minutes. But we experienced a transmission problem that took us off line for an hour. In that gap, we lost them.”

  “So you’re no closer to finding him now than you were earlier.”

  “We are very hopeful that Dr. Karp’s suggestion of exposing Ash through the media will work,” Shell said, surprising Karp with his implied praise. “At the very least, it will be a long time before he can ever show his face again. Which means he’ll be unable to cause us any problems.”

  “We don’t want that to be a reason for you to stop looking, though,” the DOP said.

  “Of course not. It’s a top priority.”

  “Have we figured out yet who was behind his escape?”

  “By the level of organization involved, I think we’re dealing with the same people who aided Lauren Scott last year.”

  Lauren Scott? The doctor hadn’t thought of her in a while.

  “Thank you, Mr. Shell. You and Major Ross are excused.”

  “Yes, sir,” Major Ross said.

  “Thank you, sir,” Mr. Shell replied.

  A moment later, Connection Terminated appeared where both of their faces had been.

  “Dr. Karp,” the DOP said.

  The doctor straightened in his chair. “Yes, sir?”

  “First, progress on the vaccine?”

  “As I’ve stated before, these things take time, but we feel like we’re getting very close now.”

  “And the problem with the different reactions between the sexes?”

  “We’re confident that we’ll have that solved shortly.”

  “Good. See that it is,” the DOP said. “Now, about the virus. I do not want Mr. Shell privy to any of the…safeguards. Is that understood?”

  “Yes, sir,” the doctor said, a bit unsure. “May I ask why, sir?”

  There was no response for a moment, then, “Let’s just say that your virus is not the only thing that’s being tested.”

  Before Dr. Karp could say anything else, the black screen that represented the Director of Preparation was suddenly replaced by the words Connection Terminated.

  Twenty-Five

  THE ORDERLY WAS glad that they’d finally decided to room his two patients together. It had decidedly improved both their spirits, and made keeping an eye on them easier for him.

  He watched them in the monitor, talking to each other.

  The boy was sitting on his sister’s bed. He usually did that. The girl, while markedly improved, was still taking her time fully recovering. She tired easily, and still wasn’t eating enough to remove the IV from her arm.

  The orderly turned up the volume so he could hear.

  “…mise?” the boy asked.

  “Of course.”

  “Then I promise, too.”

  She held out her arms and he fell into them, letting her hug him tight.

  A few tears rolled down the boy’s face, but the orderly could see that he was attempting to be strong, attempting to be an adult years before he should even think about it.

  “If they try,” the boy said, “I won’t let them.”

  “I won’t let them, either,” his sister told him. “We only have each other now, so we have to stick together.”

  The boy nodded. Several moments passed, then he said, “Do you really think there’s a heaven?”

  She stroked his head. “Yes, of course.”

  “So Mom and Dad are there? Thinking about us?”

  “I think they’re thinking about us as much as we’re thinking about them.”

  “I’m thinking about them all the time.”

  “Exact—”

  The orderly turned the sound down, wishing he had done so sooner.

  PAUL UNGER AND Nick Regan were half-brothers and best friends. Paul was a year older than Nick, and though he had an on-again, off-again relationship with his birth father, he really considered Nick’s dad his, too.

  While they lived in Randsburg, California, Paul and Nick attended high school twenty-five miles away in Ridgecrest. That meant they had to get up earlier every morning than most people in town so they could catch the bus.

  The morning of the quarantine, their mom, as she always did, flipped on the TV to catch the news while they ate breakfast. Even at that early hour, the quarantine had already been enlarged.

  “Sarge!” their mom had yelled. “Sarge, quick! You have to see this.”

  Their dad—Nick’s biological and Paul’s chosen—rushed into the kitchen, pulling a robe over the gym shorts and T-shirt he usually slept in.

  “What is it?”

  She turned up the television, and the four of them watched with growing ho
rror as the news reported the expanding outbreak and the new quarantine zone. When a map showing the actual boundary lines of the zone appeared on the screen, the true realization of their situation hit home.

  “That’s us, Dad,” Nick said. “We’re in the zone.”

  On the screen, the anchor said, “The CDC is asking all those in the Sage Flu quarantine zone to remain in their homes, and to avoid contact with anyone else. If you have questions, or are in need of medications, medical attention, or do not have enough food in your house, an 800 number has been set up to provide assistance.” The promised number appeared on the screen.

  Nick smiled. “I guess this means the bus isn’t coming.”

  “Even if it does, you’re not getting on it,” his mother said, taking him more seriously than he meant.

  Paul glanced at his stepdad. “The people who are sick are a long way away from here. Why are they making us stay inside?”

  Sarge had come into marriage and family after spending twenty years in the Army, so he was a bit older father than most of the kids had. He was also a bit more experienced, having traveled the world and worked in, among other places, several base hospitals. So although Sarge didn’t have a medical degree, Paul knew his stepdad might actually know the answer, or at least have an educated guess.

  But if he did, he kept it to himself, because he only said, “They’re probably just being cautious.”

  In a way, that answer scared Paul more than something concrete would have.

  With little else to do, they, like most of the people in the zone, stayed indoors glued to the television. So they were all sitting in the living room in the early afternoon when the video of the Tehachapi roadblock riot was played. As soon as it ended, Sarge picked up the remote and turned the TV off.

  The others looked at each other, confused, then Nick said, “Dad?”

  Sarge stared at the television screen, saying nothing.

  “Dad, what is it?”

  After another moment, Sarge took a deep breath, then looked around at his family.

  “Boys, can you give your mother and me a moment, please?”