There was no sign of activity on the dock next to the submarine and the OOD pulled his coat a little more tightly about him to ward off the cold and damp of the river air. He turned and walked to the other side of the bridge, more to keep warm than for any other reason, and looked away to the south, across the river. The city was quiet at this time of night and most of the lights were off in the homes and businesses. As he watched he suddenly noticed five bright, white lights appear in the sky. They almost looked like stars, but they were too bright – and they were moving, and changing positions. They appeared to be coming towards the sub. He continued to watch the lights, wondering whether to call the commander, and, as he considered what to do, he began hearing the distinctive sound of rotors, helicopter rotors. Two minutes later five Marine Corps VH-71 Kestrel helicopters roared overhead. The four helicopters on the right side of the formation continued flying straight ahead while the remaining helicopter performed a large circling maneuver and returned, hovering over the dock next to the Seawolf, and then lightly settled down on the hard concrete surface. As soon as the helicopter landed two U.S. Marine Corp Humvees raced from the dark shadows between the buildings on the dock and stopped about thirty feet from the helicopter. Six Marines, each in formal dress uniforms, jumped out of the Humvees and stood in a straight line leading from the door of the helicopter to the submarine’s gangplank.
“Holy crap,” the OOD whispered, then he picked up the microphone and announced, “Captain Andrews to the bridge, Captain Andrews to the bridge. Attention on the boat. Prepare to receive visitors.”
President Cranston and his wife, Grace, climbed down the helicopter’s stairs and walked towards the submarine as the President saluted the Marine guards.
“Is that the Seawolf?” Grace asked her husband, “I thought it would be bigger.”
“Don’t worry, dear,” the President said, “you’ll be fine.”
Before the couple had reached the gangplank Captain Andrews had come up to the bridge and, after taking one look at the Marine Corps helicopter he had quickly climbed down to the deck. He stood at rigid salute as the President approached and came aboard.
A lone sailor piped the President aboard and as the President and his wife neared the seaman he saluted and said, “Welcome aboard Seawolf, sir!”
The President returned his salute and continued walking towards the sail, with the submarine’s commander, while an announcement was made over the submarine’s public address system, “Now arriving: the President of the United States and Mrs. Cranston.”
A minute later he and his wife had climbed down into the hull and gone forward to the control room.
“Sir,” Captain Andrews said as the President and his wife gazed at the vast array of displays, lights, and switches, “we are ready to get underway at any time. We are awaiting your orders.”
President Cranston continued looking around at the cramped control room, not really paying attention to any of the instrumentation that made up the ultra-sophisticated combat control center of the submarine. There seemed to be barely enough room to turn around. He looked at his wife and saw her shaking her head in disbelief. He set his lips tightly for a moment before he replied, then he said, “Let’s get ourselves situated first. Where is our stateroom?”
“Stateroom, sir? Well…you can have mine. It’s the largest room on the Seawolf. I hope you find that it meets your needs.”
“Let’s have a look,” President Cranston said, and he and his wife followed Captain Andrews through the narrow passageway until they arrived at his room. The room was about twelve feet long by six feet wide. It had two single beds, a small desk, and two armchairs, plus a small bookcase and a television that was connected to a DVD player. It didn’t have a private bath.
“This is it?” the President said. “This is the biggest room you have?”
“Yes, sir.”
President Cranston turned to Grace and saw the tears beginning to form in her eyes. “I can’t do this, Alan,” she whispered. “I can’t. You know how I am about small spaces!”
“Honey, you have to! There’s no choice. Look, why don’t you just take one of your pills for now, OK? You’ll get used to it. Trust me. Besides, we really have no choice. We have to go, right now! OK?” Grace nodded her head without saying anything. Instead she walked over to one of the beds and sat down and began sobbing quietly.
The President turned back to the Captain. “Listen, we have to get moving. Right away. Understand?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Captain, we are facing a grave, national emergency. I’ll explain after we get underway. This submarine is going to play a vital role as my command platform.”
“Yes, sir. I understand. Sir, what is our destination?”
“Nowhere. Anywhere. It doesn’t matter. Just get us out of here and submerge. We need to go deep. That’s where it’ll be safe. It’s the only place we can be safe. Deep under the ocean.”
“Yes, sir. I’ll set course for the mid-Atlantic. How long will we stay submerged sir?”
“How long can you stay under without surfacing?”
“Months, sir.”
“And you can generate your own air and water supply? You are completely self-contained?”
“Yes, sir. We can stay under for months, relying on nothing at all from the surface.”
“Good,” he said glancing over at Grace who was wiping her eyes, but apparently not listening to them. “Let’s go.”
Twenty-Eight
Randy Jacobson received his letter in the mail three days after President Cranston and his wife set sail on the Seawolf. Randy, a twenty-eight year old assistant manager at the Big Apple Pizza on New York City’s 49th Street, had a wife and two children. They lived in a cramped apartment in Greenwich Village, and, between the two of them, barely made enough money to survive. Randy took the bus every day to work. They had scheduled their days so that he worked afternoons and evenings while his wife, Ann, worked part time in the mornings at a nearby 7-11 store. Now, with Asian Fever cases becoming more numerous in the city fewer people had been coming into the Pizza shop. Ann had said the same thing about the 7-11. They were both worried about their jobs.
Randy looked at the official-looking envelope. It was from something called UNAPS, an organization he had never heard of before. He first thought it might be just another request for a donation from some charity and he was about to throw it away unopened, but it felt heavier than he expected. He could also feel something hard inside the envelope, like a credit card. He decided to open it and see. There was a letter inside and four shiny black plastic cards, one for each member of his family. Each card had a blue circular logo with a white shield in the center surrounded by five multi-colored, concentric rings. On the shield were the letters UNAPS.
Throughout all of the cities and towns of the United States people were receiving similar letters in the mail today and each letter contained a set of plastic cards. Some of the cards were shiny black, like Randy’s, but others were different colors. There were, in fact, five different colors of cards that had been distributed. The colors of the cards matched the colors of the concentric rings on the UNAPS logo: Black, for the inner circle, then red, green, yellow, and finally gold for the outer circle.
Each letter carried a notice at the top in large bold print telling the reader to turn on their radio or television at noon today for an important announcement from UNAPS. The letters also stated that, until further notice, these “locality access cards” must be carried at all times. By order of the UNAPS medical officer in charge, Dr. Charles Goodfellow, these cards would now be used to authorize entrance to or exit from every newly designated, “containment area” in the country. Randy looked at his watch. It was almost noon. He stood up and turned on the television.
“My fellow Americans,” Dr. Goodfellow said with a reassuring smile as the special announcement began, “I am Doctor Charles Goodfellow of the United Nations Agency for Population Safety. We as a nation, indeed th
e entire world, are on the edge of a crisis never before encountered by the human race. Some parts of the world, for example South Asia, have been extremely hard hit by the disease that is commonly referred to as Asian Fever. In our own country, the state of Hawaii has had many more victims of this disease than anywhere on the U.S. mainland. However, there have also been significant numbers of cases here as well and we must now take very serious steps to guard ourselves from the out-of-control spread of the disease that occurred in Honolulu with extremely disastrous results.
In response to this emerging threat, President Cranston has requested that I lead the effort to meet this disease head on and I have been authorized to use any and all means at my disposal to protect the people of this country and to make our land safe again. I hope to earn your confidence as we, as a team, fight against this threat to our very survival. Never before in history: not in war, not in natural catastrophes, not in the plagues of the past, have we ever faced a threat such as this. However, with your compliance, and I know I can count on that, and with your American willingness to sacrifice and go the extra mile, we will win!
I expect that all of us will have to make many sacrifices before this is over and, let me assure you, I will be there standing beside you every inch of the way! Today, we have taken our first major step to combat the spread of Asian Fever. By this time, every American citizen should have received a color-coded identification card bearing the UNAPS logo. These cards are now required for entry or exit between adjacent containment areas.
For example, those of you who happen to live in areas that have the highest incidence of disease have received black plastic cards. Black, the color of the inner ring of the UNAPS logo, indicates that you must remain in your containment area until further notice. Some people who live in areas where there are somewhat fewer cases have received red cards, which is also the color of the next ring on the UNAPS logo. These people can travel within their own areas and also within the black areas. Your letter will explain the system in detail.”
Randy looked down again at his letter to see what containment area applied to him. As indicated on his card, it was Manhattan Island - south of 14th Street only.
“Bullshit!” Randy shouted at the television as he threw the letter down, “How the hell am I supposed to go to work now? How are we supposed to eat?”
The image of Dr. Goodfellow’s reassuring smile faded away and was replaced with the UNAPS logo for a few moments until a voice said, “We now return to regularly scheduled programming.”
Randy turned off the television and looked at the cards again for a few seconds. “This is total bullshit,” he said and threw the cards back on the table. Two hours later, after his wife had returned from work, he left the apartment and boarded the bus to 49th Street. No one on the bus asked for his containment card when he boarded and when he arrived at 49th Street no one asked for his card when he got off. He walked into the Pizza shop, put on his apron and began serving customers. It didn’t look like anybody was paying attention to the new containment card plan. What the hell was I so worried about? Randy thought as he served a large “special” to a group of young Koreans, that Goodfellow guy’s a raving lunatic!
* * *
At 8 pm that evening, Dr. Charles Goodfellow arrived at his newly designated “Asian Fever Control” headquarters. The site was one of three alternate Commander-in-Chief headquarters located in the Washington D.C. area. This one was located in the mountains of West Virginia, deep under a peak called O’Leary’s Mountain. The somewhat antiquated control room was a holdover from the days of the cold war when nuclear annihilation seemed to be an ever-present possibility. The underground complex was equipped with enough food and water to supply thirty people for up to two months. More importantly the air supply was filtered by a HEPA filtration system that was equivalent to any such system in use at the CDC’s virulent disease laboratory. This would now be the virus-proof redoubt from which Charles would conduct his vigorous, if remote, assault on Asian Fever.
He was awaiting a conference call to determine the effectiveness of the new locality control program. However, when the phone rang it wasn’t the conference call; it was Harry Fields, the director of the Centers for Disease Control.
“Hi Harry,” he said, not really happy to hear from him, “what can I do for you?”
“Hello, Charles, I just wanted to pass on some information I just received.”
“Sure, go ahead. Good news, I hope!”
“It may well be. I just received a call from a friend of mine in Ireland. His name is Dan Quinn. He’s a very well known bioresearch scientist in Cork.”
“Cork? Ireland?”
“Yes, he tells me that they have managed to make a vaccine for Asian Fever! Isn’t that great news? This could be what we have been hoping for. We need to get together with him right away!”
“Look, Harry,” Charles said, with a hint of frustration in his voice, “I’m making the decisions, remember? Now, this Irish guy might be a friend of yours, but I’ve never heard of him. How can you believe he really has a vaccine? I mean, what – Ireland? Come on; let’s be real here. Hey listen, Harry, I have to get off the line I have an important conference call coming up. OK? I’ll talk to you later. Bye. ” He hung up the phone and waited, chuckling lightly as he recalled the conversation.
The phone rang a minute later and the conference call began. The news was not good. The plan for voluntary compliance with the new locality card plan wasn’t working. Spot checks by local police found that people were ignoring the plan everywhere. When the call had finished he asked Admiral Mason to stay on the line.
“Admiral, I’m going to need your people to step in and make this plan work. Understand?” Charles said to Admiral Mason.
“Yes, sir. I understand.” The conversation with the Admiral had been, as Charles expected, very brief and businesslike. However, it did produce a result.
* * *
The convoy of the 28th Infantry Division’s Stryker troop transport vehicles left Philadelphia two hours after Charles had talked with Admiral Mason. It traveled north along the New Jersey Turnpike and reached the outskirts of New York City at nearly 4 a.m. The light fog that drifted across the highway made the passage of the National Guard troops even less noticeable than it might have been. As the convoy neared the city one group of ten Stryker vehicles turned towards the Holland Tunnel. Five of these units stopped and took up positions on the New Jersey side of the tunnel while others traveled through the tunnel, under the Hudson River, and took up positions in Manhattan. The main convoy then continued past Hoboken, and more Stryker armored units deployed at each side of the Lincoln Tunnel. The process was repeated yet again when the convoy came to the George Washington Bridge. The remainder of the convoy crossed the bridge and began taking up positions along the major access roads into Manhattan from the north. By sunrise the 28th Division had positioned units along all the major routes into and out of Manhattan and at least one Stryker vehicle was parked at the corner of all major intersections within the city.
While the 28th Infantry Division took up its positions around and within New York City, brigades of all the remaining Army divisions such as the 82nd and 101st Airborne Divisions, the First Armored Division, the 10th Mountain Division, and more took up similar positions in and around the fifty largest cities in the United States. By noon New York City, Chicago, Los Angeles – and all the largest cities – were surrounded by heavily armed U.S. Army troops. It was then that enforcement of the locality cards began.
Randy Jacobsen couldn’t get to work today. He had to get off the bus at 14th Street when the soldiers at the checkpoint told him he was not allowed to go any further. He walked to the sidewalk and looked around. People were coming out of the buildings to see what was going on. Newly arriving Stryker vehicles were now blocking all the avenues that led to the northern parts of Manhattan. Then, in what seemed to Randy to be only a few minutes, the crowd on the street grew from a few hundred people to sever
al thousand. The 14th Street soldiers cautiously retreated inside their armored vehicle. From somewhere within the crowd someone threw a tomato at the Stryker. A minute later a computer monitor, thrown from one of the office windows high above, crashed onto the Stryker and exploded into hundreds of plastic and glass fragments. Seconds later, as a roar went up from the crowd, the soldiers inside the armored vehicle fastened the hatches shut.
Twenty-Nine
The winds roared as they flew over the craggy rocks and then they turned and twisted and roiled through tall oaks and maples. In some places the recorded wind speed exceeded 150 miles per hour as the storm continued to rage over Ireland for nearly three days. Never in living memory in Cork, or any other part of the island nation, had there been driving snow accompanied by the earth-shaking crashes of thunder and blue-white bolts of lightning. The brilliant flashes momentarily illuminated the thrashing trees and lit up the snow and sleet that blew sideways and even upwards. And never had the seas appeared so mountainous. Enormous waves had relentlessly heaved themselves upon Cork’s jagged coast only to shatter into wet, salty spray that flew above the trees. The scent of the sea was carried far, far inland by the storm’s incessant gusts.
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