Pandemic (The Extinction Files Book 1)
Page 59
“My fellow Americans, wherever you are, whatever you’re doing, please stop and hear this message. It may save your life, or the lives of your loved ones. My name is James Marshall. Many of you know me as the Speaker of the House. Two days ago, I was sworn in as President of the United States. I’m speaking to you now because we face a threat unlike any in the history of our great nation. First, know that I bring you good news: the X1-Mandera pandemic that has ravaged our great nation and others around the world will soon come to an end. The United States, working with scientists in the international community, has developed a viable cure for the virus. The treatment also functions as a vaccine for anyone not infected.”
Inside the RV, cheers went up. Some stared in disbelief. Elliott was instantly suspicious.
“However, the best news I bring you today is that the cure we’ve developed is available right now, in your city. As we speak, the combined BioShield forces have established treatment checkpoints throughout your cordon zone. It’s important that you receive the X1-Mandera cure as soon as possible, but I also urge you to remain calm and proceed in an orderly fashion. Those committing acts of violence and disorder will be sent to the back of the line. There will be a zero tolerance policy for rioters and anyone cutting in line or preventing others from getting the cure.
“This broadcast will now switch to a local announcement that will list the X1-Mandera treatment centers in your area. That announcement will repeat.
“I wish you good luck, wherever you are. May God bless you and your family, and may God bless the United States of America.”
The RV erupted in shouting and questions. One of the neighbors pounded an empty can of beans on the counter, like a gavel in a courtroom, demanding silence. The voice on the radio was already reading the locations in the Atlanta cordon. At the words “Centennial Olympic Park,” everyone began pulling on their overcoats and moving toward the RV’s door.
Ryan was at Elliott’s side within seconds. “What do you think?”
Elliott didn’t say what he thought: that something was very wrong. Treatments for novel pathogens weren’t created overnight, or in a week. They certainly weren’t mass-produced that fast, with doses in the hundreds of millions, and distributed all over the country.
On the other hand, his wife was dying. The love of his life would be gone in hours. What do I have to lose?
“I think we need to hurry,” he said.
He lifted Rose up and staggered out of the RV, into the cold late afternoon. Ryan carried the wheelchair out, unfolded it, and held it while Elliott set Rose down. Sam was at Elliott’s side, holding Adam, whose fever had been running high. Ryan took the boy into his arms and followed closely behind Elliott.
They exited the alley and jogged down Marietta Street. The chill in the wind was merciless on Elliott’s face. An endless flow of people poured out of buildings and adjoining streets. Soon the crowd was as thick as a Christmas Day parade, marching, pushing toward the tents that loomed in Centennial Park. Metal fencing funneled everyone to canopies where soldiers stood watch beside individuals wearing flak jackets with the letters FEMA printed on them.
When Elliott reached a FEMA official, she took one look at Rose, said, “Line One!” and handed him a red card. The soldiers motioned him onward. There were five lines, as it turned out—prioritized based on need. Line One was for the most critical patients. It was also the only line moving. Elliott glanced back at Ryan, who was still holding Adam. Ryan simply nodded, urging his parents to go on ahead.
Another FEMA staffer directed the people in Line One to cubicles where medical staff were holding jet injectors. Vials were spread out beside them, as well as silver oblong objects: CO2 cartridges.
Elliott tried to get a look at any labeling on the vials or injector, but there wasn’t any. He wondered if he would ever know the full truth of how this life-saving cure—the cure that had just been injected into his wife—had arrived in the nick of time. For some reason, he thought of Peyton. He hoped she was safe.
On the other side of the treatment cubicle, another FEMA staffer was directing them out of the park.
Someone asked, “What do we do now?”
“Stay warm and keep hydrated. Now move on, make room for the people behind you.”
Back at the RV, Elliott again curled into the bed with Rose. He had something he didn’t have an hour ago: hope. For the first time in two days, he fell asleep.
Chapter 132
Peyton was still numb from seeing her father’s dead body. Yet she walked across the charred ruins of the building, toward the body the soldiers were pulling from the wreckage.
She stopped when she saw the wig with wavy brown hair—the wig Desmond had worn into the building. It was half burned away and matted with blood.
A hulking Navy SEAL pulled a wooden beam off the body. It didn’t move. It was limp, the left arm severed, the legs burned. Dead—with no hope of coming back.
Peyton’s hands began to shake. She clasped them together and continued to march forward.
The Citium security operatives conducting the search parted when she reached them.
She exhaled. It’s not him.
Peyton studied the face closer. He wasn’t one of the SEALs or Force Recon members who had been part of their team. “It’s not one of ours.”
Another tear, this one of joy, rolled down her face.
She walked away from the building then, back to Avery, and held the woman’s hand while they waited for the medevac. The slender woman drifted in and out of consciousness while Peyton monitored her pulse.
A Citium security contractor tentatively made his way over to them.
“We’ve finished the search,” he said. “We didn’t find any… non-Citium personnel.”
Peyton nodded. “Thank you for telling me.”
The man unclipped his radio and earpiece and handed them to Peyton.
“Your mother’s on the comm.”
The moment she slipped the earpiece in, Peyton heard her mother’s voice giving orders rapid-fire to the soldiers around her.
“Mom?”
“Peyton. Your brother and Charlotte got out.”
“Are they—”
“We’ve stabilized them, but they need medical assistance.”
“Will they…”
“Yes. I think they’ll make it, darling, but we need to hurry.”
“I’m coming. I’ll be there with a medevac as soon as I can.”
When the medevac landed to pick up Avery, Peyton helped hoist her onto the stretcher and load her aboard. Then she hopped into the helicopter as well and directed them to the labs.
When they landed again, she raced to her brother. His prosthetic was badly burned. He must have used it as a shield. That could be replaced, but his good arm was taped to his body, and a large gash ran across his forehead. He and Charlotte were both unconscious. Charlotte had a bandage across her upper chest.
Peyton stood aside as soldiers loaded both of them onto the medevac. She had lost her father that night. She was terrified that she was going to lose her brother too.
When the medevac slipped out of sight, Lin began walking away. “Come on, Peyton; we need to talk. Your brother’s life depends on what we do next.”
Chapter 133
Millen was sitting on a cot, opening an MRE, when the door to the lab unsealed.
He stood quickly, ready to defend the Kenyan villagers, then relaxed when he realized who was entering: Phil.
“It’s over, Millen.”
“We—”
“A cure. Come on, get upstairs. We’ve got work to do.”
Millen joined the line in the auditorium, rolled up his shirt sleeve, and got his injection. The room was as lively as the New York Stock Exchange in the days before electronic trading; everyone was shouting questions about the mysterious cure. There seemed to be no answers.
Millen returned to his desk in the EOC after his dose and studied the new SOPs. Dr. Stevens had written them hastil
y; Millen had to re-read several passages twice. When he finished, he pulled on his headset.
“Centennial Park Checkpoint, BioShield Ops. We need an updated vial and head count.”
Near the end of Millen’s shift, an operator notified him that he had a call on a CDC landline.
The voice on the other end of the line belonged to someone Millen had thought he might never hear again: Elim Kibet.
His tone was serious. “I’ve got news, Millen.”
When Elim finished speaking, Millen simply said, “I’ll be there as soon as I can.”
Millen waited outside Phil’s office door for him to finish his phone call, then stepped inside.
The senior CDC employee didn’t look up from his laptop. “What can I do for you, Millen?”
“I need a favor. A big one.”
Millen didn’t know who was called or what favors were traded, but he got word a few hours later that a deal had been made.
In the BSL-4 lab, he found Halima and Tian, both watching TV.
“Get your stuff together.”
Halima raised her eyebrows, fearful.
“You’re going home.”
They ran to him, and Millen hugged both of them.
“I didn’t know—” Halima began.
“When you agreed to come with me, I promised you I’d take you home when this was over. I honor my promises.”
They flew to DC first, then to Ramstein Air Base in Germany. The plane was filled with personnel who weren’t very chatty, which made Millen curious. About half the tight-lipped operatives disembarked at Ramstein, and were replaced by people boarding from the base and from Landstuhl Medical Center. From there, they flew through the night to Incirlik Air Base in Turkey, and a smaller plane took Millen and the villagers to Kenyatta National Airport.
Elim and Dhamiria were waiting for them. They had brought presents for the two villagers: a soccer ball for the boy and a beaded Maasai necklace for the girl. The two seemed overjoyed by the gifts—and by the fact that Elim and Dhamiria had been thinking about them while they were gone.
Instinctively, Millen knew they would adopt the two children. The thought made him very happy. He believed the four of them would be a wonderful family, despite the tragedy that had brought them together.
At the hospital, Millen walked the halls with Elim. The place was packed, a madhouse, but things were getting done; Elim was seeing to that. The Kenyan seemed to know everyone by name, and what they were doing. This was Elim’s passion. In Mandera, when he was recuperating, Elim had told Millen that his own hospital was on life support; its decline had taken the wind out of the Kenyan’s sails. Now the man’s energy was back. In a way, the pandemic that had almost taken his life had actually restored his purpose and vitality. Millen thought it was a strange twist of fate, but he couldn’t be happier for the man.
Elim slowed as they approached the hospital room where Hannah lay. Her strawberry-blond hair spilled over the pillow. The machines by her bedside had been turned off.
Millen stepped into the room. Behind him, he heard Elim pace away, already giving more orders.
He reached out, took the white sheet, and pulled it up, covering more of Hannah’s body, then sat in the chair by the window. He was asleep within minutes.
Millen awoke to the sound of sheets rustling. He looked toward the bed with bloodshot eyes.
“Millen.” Hannah was sitting up, gazing in amazement at him.
“Hi.”
“Hi yourself. How did you get here?”
“I was in the neighborhood.”
“Seriously.”
“I told the CDC we had left somebody behind—close to where it all started.”
His response drained some of the excitement from her. “Oh.”
“And, we never finished our book.”
She raised her eyebrows.
“You know how I am about my TBR list.”
She laughed. “You don’t have a TBR list.”
“True. I have a To-Be-Listened-To list. So, I guess a TBLT list.” He feigned being deep in thought. “Just doesn’t have the same ring to it.”
“No. No, it doesn’t.”
“Anyway.” He held up the cell phone with the Audible app. “Shall we?”
“We shall.” She scooted over in the bed, making room for him. “I believe you know the drill.”
As he had done before, he lay beside Hannah, plugged one earbud in one of his ears and the other in one of hers, and wrapped an arm around her. The last time he had clicked play, the pandemic was still a brush fire in a remote corner of the world. The two of them had been only a couple of weeks younger, but it felt almost like a lifetime ago. Millen had grown up a lot in that short amount of time. He taken risks, handled new responsibilities, and learned what was really important. He wasn’t going to let her out of his sight. Not for a while.
“You know,” he said in a mock boastful tone. “I actually oversaw the first-ever patient recovery from X1-Mandera.”
Hannah turned to him. “Oh really?”
“Really. That patient turned out quite well. He saved you, after all.”
“Uh-huh,” Hannah said. She could obviously tell he was working up to something.
“I could extend those same services to you.”
“Oh, you could?”
“I could.” In a serious tone, he added, “Would you like that? Do you want me to stay?”
“More than anything.”
Chapter 134
The sun was rising over the island by the time Lin and Peyton reached the burned remains of the administrative building. The Citium search teams had brought out their fallen comrades and laid them out in a row, in body bags with clear openings at the face.
Peyton and Lin marched down the row, peering at the windows into the body bags. Near the end of the row, Peyton saw her father’s face. They had closed his eyes.
Lin Shaw knelt, unzipped the bag, and touched her husband’s cheek.
Peyton couldn’t remember ever seeing her mother cry. But in that tropical island forest, with the first rays of sunrise beaming through the tree canopy, Lin Shaw sobbed. Peyton realized it then: in some way, her mother had always expected her father to return. Lin Shaw had had one great love in her life, and she had never given up hope of being reunited with him.
Peyton understood that. Desmond was the only man she had ever truly fallen in love with. For the first time, she realized that she had always been waiting for Desmond to return. That’s why she had never moved on with her life romantically. Just like her mother had never dated after her father was taken from them.
With her hands still on William’s face, Lin said, “A long time ago, we bought burial plots in London. I’d like to bury him there. And I’d like for you, your sister, and brother to be there.”
Peyton nodded. She found it fitting. She knew now that her parents hadn’t fallen in love in London. That had occurred on the Beagle. But they had become a family in London. It was also where her father had been adopted, taken in, and helped to become the person he was.
Lin zipped up the body bag, composed herself, and turned to Peyton. “This crisis will soon be over. When that occurs, anger will replace fear. People won’t be focused on how to survive. They’ll want someone to blame—criminals to hang.”
Peyton instantly realized what her mother was telling her: Andrew was in danger. Peyton felt conflicting emotions. Her brother had created the pathogen that had killed millions. But he had been brainwashed to do it.
“I know what you’re thinking,” her mother said. “You should know this: Yuri Pachenko is a survivor. He was a young boy in Stalingrad when the Germans came. He survived by the strength of his mind. When everyone was dying around him, he learned how to manipulate people to his will. Every person has a breaking point, weaknesses—levers that can be turned.”
“What was Andrew’s?”
“Yuri threatened you.”
Peyton exhaled.
“And yours?”
Charlotte, Peyton thought. Lin detailed her proposal to Peyton, then looked her daughter in the eye, waiting for her response.
Peyton nodded. “All right. I’ll do it.”
They rose and began walking away from the bodies. Lin spoke quietly.
“There’s something else. A month ago, someone located the Beagle. I don’t know how; I can only assume the location was somewhere in the most classified Citium files. Perhaps Desmond found it and told Avery. Or maybe she found it herself.”
“How do you know?”
“Rubicon sent a US Coast Guard icebreaker, the Healy, to find it. Conner sank the ship. I still don’t know where it is. I need you to ask Avery for the location.”
“Why?”
“Because of what’s on it.”
“Which is?”
“A conversation for another time, Peyton.”
They walked in silence again, Peyton deep in thought. Like a compass returning to true north, her mind always drifted back to Desmond. She feared the answer to her next question, but she had to know.
“Desmond’s not here, is he?”
“As I said, Yuri’s a survivor. He wouldn’t set foot on this island without an escape plan. And he wouldn’t leave without Desmond and Conner. They possess Rendition and Rook, both of which he needs.”
“What will they do to Desmond?”
“They’ll try to help him regain his memories.”
The thought terrified Peyton. “I’m going after him.”
Lin turned to her daughter. “There are greater forces at work here.”
“Not for me, there’s not. You want the coordinates of the Beagle? I want Desmond back. You’re going to help me. And you’re going to tell me exactly what’s going on.”