by Bobby Akart
As the power grids began to fail across the country, a cascading effect took place, causing brownouts at first, followed by total blackouts in the last forty-eight hours. Only Texas, whose grid was independent of the eastern and western connected grids, still maintained power although the state was hard hit by the plague pandemic. It was a matter of time before their utility companies experienced the same manpower shortages as the rest of the country.
The President insisted two cabinet members be involved in the domestic daily briefing, which included the surgeon general and the chairman of the Federal Energy Regulatory Commission, who would appear by satellite linkup. The surgeon general would report daily death counts from around the world as they became available. The chairman of FERC would keep the President apprised of the nation’s critical infrastructure.
“Mr. President,” started the surgeon general, “the worldwide death toll is estimated to be seventy-seven percent at this point. More and more people are dying as a result of social unrest as well as from the plague.”
“I’ve seen the news reports,” said the President. “How does CNN find ways to broadcast when the power is going out everywhere? Never mind. Who cares? What else?”
The surgeon general continued. “The water supply has been cut off to most metropolitan areas, which is forcing people to drink bacteria-laden water from creeks, lakes, and rivers. Dysentery has become a major problem around the world, not just third-world nations. In order to quench their thirst and avoid dehydration, people drink tainted water, which causes diarrhea and vomiting, two leading causes of dehydration.”
“Tell me, other than the Level 6 eradication protocol, which I’ll cover in a moment, how long will it take for this disease to disappear?”
“Sir, we’ve established the disease is incurable and there are no available preventative vaccines. We’ve adopted a three-pronged approach to surviving the plague pandemic. First, we have implemented the Level 6 protocol. I’ll let DHS speak to that.
“Next, our initial establishment of safe zones is under way. It’s too early to declare it a success or failure, but the plans I’ve seen should work. Finally, our campaign of suggesting social distancing as a matter of course has been adopted by a majority of Americans except those few who’ve chosen to create chaos in the streets.”
“Back to my question. Give me a time frame,” demanded the President.
“Our three-pronged attack, once fully implemented, would mean there could be a last patient. In other words, by separating the infected from the healthy members of society through whatever means available, at some point the human hosts will expire. Theoretically, that would be two weeks after the last patient succumbs to the disease.”
The President slammed his hands on the conference table. “Good lord, man. Can’t you give me a straight answer? You equivocate as much as any lawyer I’ve ever spoken to.”
“Sir, I guess my answer is probably never,” the surgeon general responded.
“What?” The President was shocked.
“Mr. President, studies of the plague pandemics in Medieval England suggest that the disease- causing bacterium Y. pestis persisted in rodents between recurrences in people. The theory suggested by the scientists is known as the vole toll.”
“What’s a vole toll?”
“A vole is comparable to a mole. It’s very small and common to most environs around the world. They’re more common in Europe, but they exist everywhere. As a mammal, they are a perfect host for the Y. pestis bacterium.” The surgeon general looked to Morse and the other members of the briefing.
Morse nodded, encouraging him to continue.
“In Europe, these small mammals contracted the disease and played the role of plague reservoirs. When a warmer than usual summer came to Europe, the vole population would expand to be many times larger than normal, which brought them into contact with other mammals, including humans. The plague outbreak would resurface until it expired on its own.”
The President leaned back in his chair. “Are you saying the plague will never go away?”
“Mr. President, it never has gone away completely, which is why we are facing this pandemic today. The plague existed in Madagascar, although it was the terrorists who hastened its spread around the world. To answer your question, this strain of the plague may reach a state of relative dormancy within several months, but it will never go away.”
The President leaned forward and growled at his advisors. “What I want to know is whether we’re gonna run out of fuel to power this facility before or after the last plague case is disposed of.”
“I can speak to that, Mr. President,” replied the chairman of FERC. “After you expressed your concerns yesterday about the power outages and how they impact Cheyenne Mountain, I put together an action plan that should allay your concerns. We believe the diesel reservoir within the mountain can sustain operations for many months.”
“He just said the plague won’t be gone anytime soon, maybe even years,” the President stated sarcastically. “Many months may not be enough.”
“Sir, if I may,” said the FERC chairman. “Under your executive powers granted in a time of national crisis, you can order the military to seize the Trenton Diesel Refinery owned by Dakota Oil in North Dakota. Utilizing the Keystone XL pipeline, we can divert diesel to the Colorado pipeline system and straight here to Colorado Springs. Refueling of the large diesel lake reservoir can be tricky under the circumstances, but it can be done.”
The President turned to Morse. “Draft the EO. Also, find out what kind of pesticide kills these vole things. I want them all taken out too.”
“Yes, sir, Mr. President,” said Morse.
“Now speaking of rats burrowed in the mountain, let’s talk about how we’re gonna flush out these terrorists from their caves.”
Chapter 28
Day Fifty-Nine
Cheyenne Mountain
The surgeon general and the chairman of FERC left the conference room, leaving the President’s inner circle to conduct their daily briefing on homeland security. General Keef, the Secretary of Defense, and General Gallagher, who was now formally the new Secretary of Homeland Security, prepared to brief the President.
“Before we get started, do you two see where I’m coming from? When they built Cheyenne Mountain, they didn’t expect us to stay down here forever. I’m trying to think ahead.”
“Absolutely, Mr. President,” replied General Keef. “All of these issues need to be addressed. I’m keeping tabs on our food intake. As you know, the facility is full to capacity when you include the nonessential personnel.”
“This is what concerns me,” said the President. “The facility was designed to survive a nuclear war. Even with mutual destruction, we’d be able to get out of here at some point. With this plague, there’s no end in sight.”
“Mr. President, we have more than sufficient food and supplies stored at the underground facility at Stapleton,” continued General Keef. “Logistics might be an issue, but not if the plague continues to spread. By the time we need to access Stapleton’s reserves, the population will be decimated, and any hostile resistance outside our safe zones will have been virtually eliminated.”
The President chuckled. He smiled and pointed to General Keef. “You know what I like about you. You’re not some wet-noodle bureaucrat like those two that just left the room. Hard core. That’s what you are. You recognize people are going to die and, quite likely, we’re going to expedite the process. But it’s necessary for the greater good, right, General?”
“It is, sir,” she replied. “Mr. President, in that vein, let me explain our military options in the Qandil Mountains.”
“Good, please proceed.”
“Sir, our assets in the region are limited at this time due to your recall of the military. However, we continue to deploy the Navy’s 5th Fleet in the Persian Gulf. The primary reason was to provide security and cover for our departing troops but, secondarily, to be able to strike bac
k against the Iranians in the event they tried to take advantage of the situation.”
“Brilliant, continue.”
“Yes, sir. We have two mission-ready battle groups in the Gulf. Both the Independence and the George Washington remain at full readiness. Two dozen F-14B Tomcats and another six dozen F/A-18C Hornets have the firepower and range to bomb their targets into oblivion once they are confirmed.”
The President clapped his hands and leaned back in his chair. “Finally, somebody is ready to give the American people what they want—justice.”
“Mr. President, as I said, we need confirmed targets, and between worldwide power outages and downed communications, that is proving difficult.”
“General,” started the President, “you must have some idea of their location, right?”
“Well, yes, sir. But the Tomcats and Hornets are best suited for precision strikes. If we are going to strike a larger cover area, we’d need to consider a much larger ordnance.”
“Like?”
“The GBU43/B is our largest nonnuclear option, Mr. President,” replied General Keef. “Sir, that’s dubbed the mother of all bombs, or MOAB.”
“I’m familiar,” said the President. “The last occupant of my job enjoyed its use, as I recall.”
The MOAB was thirty feet long and weighed twenty-two thousand pounds, including its nine tons of explosives. Although its explosive yield was a fraction of a nuclear weapon, it still packed a devastating punch.
In its initial use, the MOAB targeted ISIS tunnels and caves deep in the remote, mountainous regions of Afghanistan. It was designed to maximize the blast effect into the caves and tunnels created by ISIS fighters.
“Sir, the overpressure from the weapon sends shock waves through the tunnel systems that will kill everyone within a certain range. Further, as a thermobaric bomb, it generates both heat and pressure. It sets off a huge blast, burying everyone alive.”
“Let’s hope none of our enemies have anything like this,” said the President. “It might make for a bad day inside Cheyenne Mountain.”
“Actually, sir, our intelligence indicates the Russians do,” added General Keef. “We believe they’ve built a much larger bomb, the FOAB—the father of all bombs. However, it has never been tested.”
“General, find the target and keep me posted. I want to do this sooner rather than later.”
General Keef nodded and made a few notes. She thumbed through a three-ring binder, which she always carried under her arm since her arrival at Cheyenne Mountain. The contents included troop locations and movements.
“Sir, we have a C-130 presently stationed at Jabir Air Base in Kuwait as part of the 386th Expeditionary Wing. It was scheduled to bring the last airmen of the Kentucky Air Guard back to Louisville tomorrow. With your permission, sir, I’ll hold that aircraft at Jabir. Unknown to the Kuwaiti Air Force, we’ve kept a MOAB under wraps for just such an occasion as this one.”
“Very good. General, one more question. You mentioned the blast yield of eleven tons. What is the blast radius?”
“One mile, sir. It will demolish everything within one mile.”
“What if the vermin are hiding out in caves all over those mountains? What are our options to provide a bigger blast radius?” asked the President.
“Nuclear, sir. A one-megaton bomb will yield a four-mile annihilation radius.”
“Good,” said the President. “That sounds much more effective.”
Chapter 29
Day Sixty
Quandary Peak
Barb assisted Mac in getting suited up for another day in the lab. The process undertaken by Mac was tedious. Before she and Hunter made the decision to abandon the Fort Collins facility, she had been thinking of this eventuality. Like Hunter with his ever-expanding list of beans, bullets, and Band-Aids, Mac was making mental notes of ways to continue her work in an unconventional environment. Mac’s frustration centered on the amount of time it took to go through the chemical processes.
Mac came from a scientific family. Her father’s primary field of study was chemistry and her mother was a biologist. Molecular biology overlaps with biology and chemistry, and in particular, genetics and biochemistry. Mac was well-versed in understanding how various cellular systems interacted in terms of DNA and protein synthesis.
Tedious best describes the work Mac was doing in the lab every day. One had to have a certain mindset to remain isolated from the outside world. Her work was very private as she carefully manipulated the samples to create something new. Her mind never wandered to the probabilities of success or failure. She became singularly focused on the task at hand—cure the incurable.
Hunter had completed the construction of her lab three days ago and she immediately injected three mice with the pneumonic plague bacteria. During that period, Mac went through the thirty steps necessary to make the first batch of vancomycin-d-ala-d-lac compound.
“Dear, you should be able to see visible signs of the disease in the test subjects today,” said Barb. “Pustules should have appeared overnight. Their skin should reveal bulging patches of skin full of pus.”
“These mice are very small, Mom. I can’t fault Janie. She snuck two out in her briefcase last year to keep as pets and to create offspring. At the time, she was dating this weird guy in her condo complex who had a pet albino boa constrictor.”
“Mac, that’s gross. What was Janie thinking?”
Mac laughed as she gave her gear one final check. She inserted her headphones into her ears and began to set her headgear in place.
“He was actually a nice guy, except for the snake thing. Janie wanted to be a dutiful girlfriend, so she smuggled out a couple of the lab mice and they kept breeding. She grew to like the snake better than the boyfriend. Anyway, these dozen are the last of her pets.”
Barb shrugged and shook her head. The sound of hammers banging from outside startled them both. The guys had started their greenhouse project.
“Is that gonna bother you?” asked Barb as she sealed Mac’s headgear and gave her a pat on the head.
“Nope. I’ve got my iPod tucked inside and this,” replied Mac, holding up a wireless remote. “I can turn it up as loud as I need to. Okay, I’ll see you later, Mom.”
“Good luck today and be careful!”
“Always. With luck, I’ll inject our first dose of a miracle cure for the plague!”
Mac passed through the makeshift decontamination chamber and into the laboratory. As the chatter and activity increased outside, she opted for country music instead of her beloved classical tracks. She scrolled down the playlist and picked COUNTRY-FEMALE.
Her first step was to check the health of her first three test mice. She delicately examined their backs, chests, and faces. The mice were agitated due to the onset of the disease in their bodies. With a tinge of guilt, she was glad to see that the disease had taken hold. This would be her first opportunity to test her theory.
She turned up the volume on her iPod as Carrie Underwood and Miranda Lambert started a fast-paced tune that was one of Mac’s favorites.
“… got a real good feelin’ somethin’ bad’s about to happen …”
Chapter 30
Day Sixty
Blue Lakes Road at County Road 9
Quandary Peak
Hunter had raised Sheriff Andrews on one of the BaoFeng dual-band radios the night before, using the frequencies he’d been provided. One was kept on the kitchen counter to be monitored day and night for activity. The other was taken on patrol at all times. In hindsight, Hunter would have purchased a couple of Midland two-way radios for security use and saved the BaoFeng for longer-range communications. Finding a signal with the handheld ham radios was difficult in the mountains. The emergency band tower across the valley near the top of Red Mountain allowed the Summit County Sheriff’s Office transmissions to come across crystal clear.
By the time he and Janie arrived on the scene, an ambulance was removing the dead bodies from the first house an
d two sheriff’s deputies were entering the homes across the street. Sheriff Andrews stood in the middle of Blue Lakes Road with his hands on his hips, looking in all directions.
“Good morning, Sheriff,” greeted Hunter. “This is my friend Janie Turnbull.”
Janie and the sheriff greeted one another. Sheriff Andrews continued to watch the front door of the home the deputies had just entered.
“I’m trying to make sense of it all,” he said. The paramedics just arrived at the back of their ambulance with the second body. “On the surface, the older couple in this house appeared to be a possible suicide, perhaps by poison or medication. There weren’t any visible wounds or signs of blunt force trauma. We’ve had other folks in Breckenridge opt out by taking their own lives.”
“Do you know anything about them, Sheriff?”
“No. Computers are down, but none of us can remember responding to a call at any of these homes, much less arresting any of these folks. These two were retired, as best we can tell.”
“Sheriff, I’ve spent a lot of time in morgues and around autopsies. Would you mind if I take a quick look?” asked Janie.
“Sure, go ahead.”
Janie pulled a pair of gloves out of her pocket and approached the medical personnel. She began to examine the bodies, which had decomposed further since Hunter and Mac discovered them.
“All clear, Sheriff!” shouted the deputies as they emerged from the first home across the street. “It has been looted.”
“No surprise there, I guess,” said the Sheriff. Doc Cooley’s pickup truck pulled onto Blue Lakes Road toward them. Hunter recognized the fire engine red vehicle immediately. “Here comes Doc. He’s also our county coroner.”
“Howdy, boys,” said Doc as he arrived. He glanced over and saw Janie looking over the bodies. “Who’s she?”