by J. W. Vohs
Placing the phone back into the small pack he was being allowed to take to the evacuation point, Barnes noticed the president approaching the door to the helipad; he was flanked by two secret service agents, with his wife and two teenage-children following close behind. The man traditionally considered the most powerful person in the world stopped a few feet away from Barnes, and he sounded old and tired when he spoke. “General, I’d like you to stick by my side while we fly to Raven Rock.”
Barnes nodded, “Sure thing, Mr. President. Are we leaving now?”
The leader of a dying nation stared grimly off into space for a moment before quietly answering, “Yes, right now.”
Two seconds later another Secret Service agent appeared at Brocktin’s side and informed him that they needed him on the next bird to leave. The president motioned for Barnes to join the group as he led his wife and children out onto the lawn without a single glance back at what just a few days earlier had been the most important house in the world. As General Barnes followed the family out to the waiting helicopter, he could hear the shouts from the crowd pushing against the fences surrounding the White House; even above the roar of the rotors and the powerful engine of the chopper he heard the screams of people at the rear of the mob being attacked by the infected. As he climbed into the craft he looked back in time to see a large section of the fence collapse and the vanguard of the panicked crowd begin to pour through the opening. By the time he was belted into his seat and looking out the window, people could be seen frantically beating at the doors and windows of the two-hundred year-old iconic building, and he knew the structure wouldn’t survive the night.
* * *
Early the next morning Barnes was awakened by a knock on the door of the tiny room he’d been assigned to, which in spite of its size was actually a symbol of privilege within the confines of the underground fortress. He quickly hopped off of his cot and opened the door to find a helmeted, armed Marine escorting Master Sergeant Peterson down from the tarmac. The general nodded a dismissal to the guard and waved his associate into the room where they both sat down. They looked at each other for a long moment, two men who shared many secrets, and they wordlessly exchanged fundamental information. With neither of them willing to take a chance that they weren’t being listened to, the conversation took place in scripted code-talk for the two USAMRIID soldiers.
“I’ve been passed out for a few hours,” Barnes explained, “what’s the latest?”
Peterson shook his head and frowned with a sincerity that still impressed the general when he hadn’t seen his co-conspirator in action for a while. “So many cities and towns on fire between here and Atlanta, even Fort Campbell is fighting an outbreak inside the fences. Just between you and me, sir, the virus is spreading unchecked across the nation. Even the western cities are now fighting large numbers of the infected. In my opinion, General, we don’t have time to wait for additional tests on the vaccine you’ve been developing; we need to present it to the president now.”
Barnes paused for a moment, seemingly lost in thought. “I just don’t want to give him false hope. I don’t envy his position; he carries the weight of the nation, hell, the whole world really, and he’s got a family here too for God’s sake! If the vaccine can contain this thing now, we might be able to save millions . . . but we still don’t know if the vaccine works on humans.”
The master sergeant pursed his lips in what passed as a grin for him as he rolled up his left sleeve and explained, “I actually do know that it works on humans, General.”
Barnes took in a surprised breath and pulled back as Peterson revealed what was unmistakably a human bite-wound. The skin had been deeply punctured in at least four places, but the injury seemed to be free of infection and was clearly beginning to heal. “Good God! When were you bitten?”
Sergeant Peterson replaced the bandage and explained, “Almost three days ago. When you asked me to lead the investigation over at Walter Reed, one of the damn nurses was on the ground when I entered a patient’s room and I tried to help her up without thinking about it. She was facing away from me on all fours, and when I grabbed her shoulder she whipped around and latched onto my arm about as fast as a Cottonmouth back home.”
There was suppressed anger in Barnes’ voice; he sounded like a father trying to master his temper while confronting an errant child. “Why didn’t you report it?”
Peterson shrugged nonchalantly, “I’d already vaccinated myself, and I guess I had more faith in it than you did. I wish I could claim that I’d let her bite me on purpose—I was thinking about it, how to go about setting up a controlled experiment, but it wasn’t planned. Once she got me, I decided to ride it out. If I’d started showing signs of infection, I would have briefed you before I ended it. But I’m telling you, sir, the vaccine works. I shared the whole situation with Stevens and his team down in Atlanta, and every one of those experts wanted it for their families right then and there. I told them that you believed it needed a lot more testing before we distributed it to people, but they were so freaked out by what was happening in the city around them that I doubt I was even on the chopper before they began inoculating one another. I know we’ve ramped up production.”
Barnes released a long sigh before asking, “You’re absolutely certain about the time frame surrounding your bite-wound?”
“There’s been no mistake here, sir, you can ask any of the men who went into the hospital with me; they’re all back at Dietrick now, waiting to hear from us.”
Barnes nodded, “You know I have faith in you, Sergeant, I just needed to be absolutely certain before I take this info to the president. I’ll need you in there with me when I present it to him and his staff.”
“No problem, General. In fact, the sooner the better . . . I wouldn’t be so sure we don’t have a few infected people inside this facility already.”
Barnes’ eyes widened in alarm, “What makes you think that?”
“Well, I got in here without anyone checking me for wounds. Are you a hundred percent sure I’m the only one who managed to do that? I brought two cases of the vaccine with me—that should be enough for everyone here if the president wants to go that route.”
The general nodded his understanding before ordering, “Wait outside the door for me while I dress. We’ll go see Brocktin immediately.”
* * *
Twenty minutes later Barnes and Peterson were led into the Raven Rock command center, a cavernous room with large-screen monitors occupying almost every square inch of available wall space. Most of the screens were displaying live-action footage of cities burning and battles raging between military forces and armies of the infected. President Brocktin was intently focused on a briefing from the Secretary of Defense, but he glanced over at the two USAMRIID soldiers as they quietly seated themselves nearby and began listening to what was being discussed.
“Mister President, I don’t think it’s a good idea to release any more of our strategic ordnance reserve. Once the haze settles from this dust-up, the United States will still have to worry about terrorists and hostile nations; hell, I wouldn’t even be surprised if China or Russia makes a move for oil in the Middle East, or even Alaska.”
President Brocktin sat very still as a hush settled over the room following the Defense Secretary’s suggestions. After an awkward moment he spoke quietly but forcefully, “I respect your opinion, Bob, you know I do. But this time I totally disagree with your assessment of the situation.” He glanced around the room, and his gaze seemed to linger for just a fraction of a second on Master Sergeant Devin Peterson. “You know that our satellites and surveillance drones are showing the same disaster we’re experiencing in North America all over the world. If we don’t stop this infection there won’t be anything left of the United States to defend, and I seriously doubt the remaining Chinese and Russians will be able to do anything but fight for survival for years to come.”
The secretary tried to interrupt, but Brocktin held up a hand to si
lence him before continuing, “All I’m seeing from our intelligence sources is defeat. U.S. forces overseas are expending all of their resources before disappearing, and you know most of our weapons were already deployed to the areas of operation they were engaged in.” The president’s voice rose as he went on, “Now I’m seeing American troops reduced to fighting with bayonets and their bare-hands on home-ground because we can’t get ammo to them!” He took a deep breath and calmly ordered, “I want everything in the U.S. arsenal thrown into these battles. If America goes down to defeat it’s not going to happen with any bullets left in our guns. Do you hear me, Bob?”
“Yes, sir,” the secretary firmly responded. “I’ll order the immediate distribution and use of everything we have left. But Mister President, every active duty, reserve, and National Guard unit we have on this continent is already committed to the fight. Plenty of armed civilians are fighting by their sides as well. Virtually every store or private cache holding common caliber ammo has been scavenged by now. We can’t do much about that, but I will order that every armored vehicle and aircraft expend their ordnance in defense of the ground forces. Most of them are down to machine guns by now, but the reserve stocks will keep them armed for another day or two.”
The president nodded before inquiring flatly, “Are we winning anywhere?”
The defense secretary looked at the ground before returning his gaze to President Brocktin, and in a soft voice he explained, “No sir. Isolated groups of soldiers and civilians are holding out all over the country, but none of our ground forces can be considered combat-effective at this point. Millions of infected have been killed by everything from cluster-bombs to Ka-Bars, but their numbers have only increased over the past week. Fortifications and extensive defenses usually hold, especially where mountains or water offer partial protection, but we can’t stop them in the cities or in open terrain.”
President Brocktin wasn’t surprised by the answer he’d received, but he had a follow-up question for the secretary. “Can we order our remaining forces to retreat to geographical locations that are defensible?”
“We can send out the order, sir, but not many units will be able to comply. Most of our troops have been locked in a death-grapple with hordes of the infected for days with no relief, and they’re completely exhausted by this point. If they turn their backs on the enemy they’ll end up routed and decimated. A lot of our people are out of ammo as well, and they’re already holed up in buildings and on high ground or islands. For better or worse, our troops will have to fight in place.”
Brocktin released a frustrated sigh. “How can the wealthiest, most powerful nation on earth run out of ammo for its troops?”
The Chairman of the Joint Chiefs decided to give the Secretary of Defense a break and explained, “Sir, there was an ammo shortage nation-wide before the pandemic erupted. Some of our orders were being delayed by manufacturers so they could send civilian vendors just some of what they were out of. Most of our heavy ordnance was with the Navy and Air Force, or in supply depots overseas. When the emergency broke out here we were dangerously low on everything our troops needed to defend the homeland—they hadn’t had to do such a thing since the Civil War. The budget cuts of the past few years certainly did nothing to help the situation, but we can’t blame any individual or organization for this boondoggle; this type of war was never one of the contingencies the Pentagon even considered.”
The president rubbed his temples and allowed an awkward silence to settle in the room. He looked directly at General Barnes when he asked, “Does anybody have any good news to report? Anything at all?”
Barnes immediately stood up and cleared his throat. “Mister President, I believe that USAMRIID may finally have some good news to share with everyone.”
Brocktin waved a hand toward the center of the room, “By all means, General, tell us what you know.”
Barnes walked forward and stood in front of the large, semi-circular table where the nation’s leaders sat waiting. He took a mental snapshot of the moment when he first held the attention of all the eyes in the room before he explained, “I believe we have made an important step toward preparing a vaccine to protect against the virus.”
In spite of the gravity of the situation and the rigid hierarchy of leadership in the room, a chorus of voices immediately began shouting questions almost before the words left the general’s lips. Barnes held a hand up for silence, which he eventually got after the president slammed his fist against the table. Brocktin nodded at Barnes to continue, and the general returned the gesture before drawing in a long breath and explaining, “Even before news of the attack on our Marines appeared in the media, blood samples of the infected troops, as well as the people who attacked them, were on their way to USAMRIID headquarters. We have faced something structurally similar in the past, and this outbreak appears to be a deliberate mutation of a rabies-like infection previously limited to a small, isolated village in the Hindu Kush Mountains. The science that produced the vaccine is complicated and dominated by theories and procedures that wouldn’t mean anything to most of you, but trust me, our best, most experienced minds have been investigating this virus for years. Of course, since the attack on the Marine platoon we’ve been on it twenty-four-seven.”
The president pointedly interrupted, “Why didn’t you report on this virus when you first saw it years ago?”
Barnes shrugged sheepishly, “Security is always a problem once we release information to Congress or the cabinet, sir. Plus, we didn’t realize that the virus was so easily transmissible. We were just studying it as we would any exotic virus that’s only appeared once in the world.”
The president frowned but appeared to be somewhat mollified by the explanation. “What animals have you been using for tests?”
The general bowed his head slightly before answering, “Allow me to present one of the ‘great minds’ that has been hard at work at Fort Dietrick. The man walking up here now is Master Sergeant Devin Peterson, and I have no more trusted or competent colleague in the entire Army. Now, before some of you wonder why an NCO is here instead of a commissioned officer, let me inform you that Sergeant Peterson has adamantly refused promotion from the ranks for over twenty years. He has a master’s degree from MIT in bioengineering, and more practical knowledge than virtually any better-known professors in his field. He is first and foremost a soldier, who despite the level of his education, has served in combat as a medic, a Ranger, and a USAMRIID inspector. He can explain our breakthrough much more thoroughly than I can, so please, give him your attention for a few minutes.”
Peterson stepped up beside his commander and addressed the men seated at the briefing table. “Mister President, sirs, USAMRIID is certain that this virus has been engineered; it could not have developed according to the laws of nature. Our hypothesis at this time is that an incredibly well-funded terrorist group or hostile nation-state has been working on this a long, long time. With the infection spreading so quickly around the globe, we sped up our research process by accepting results earlier than we would have under normal circumstances. We were quickly able to determine that the manipulated virus is spread through bodily fluids, almost always transmitted via contact between the saliva of an infected person and the bloodstream of someone previously bitten. We’ve also accepted that the effects of the virus are, at their core, produced by rapid genetic mutations within the body of the victim.
“With that determination, we focused our attention on the pathway used by the virus to breach the DNA’s natural protection. We immediately began testing primates with what is essentially a blocker—we stimulate our own cells into rapidly dividing and stopping the virus from spreading through the body from the site of the bite wound. All of us were shocked to discover that the virus is destroyed by a normal body’s immune system within forty-eight hours if it doesn’t gain access to a critical mass of host DNA. There is a time-dependent tipping point that gives us our window of opportunity. The bottom line is that the
virus is stopped in its tracks if exposure happens more than three hours after the vaccine has been administered. We aren’t sure at this time how long the vaccine lasts, but we believe it may remain effective for at least five years after an initial inoculation. Questions?”
Everyone deferred to the president, who was holding Peterson’s gaze with a soul-piercing stare. Brocktin leaned forward, cocked his head, and inquired in a matter-of-fact tone, “How are we going to find volunteers for the human tests?”
Sergeant Peterson smiled nervously, “Everyone involved in the project at USAMRIID was already inoculated several days ago. I believe General Barnes gave himself an injection while I waited for him to get dressed this morning.”
Barnes nodded and pointed to his upper arm, “I’m not going to lie to you, gentlemen, the shot hurt like hell! But, I believe it will do what our researchers say it will do.”
The president posed the next logical question, “Have any of the test subjects been bitten yet?”
Peterson had been waiting for this moment, and as he began unbuttoning his BDU shirt he explained, “Almost three days ago I was attacked by an infected nurse at Walter Reed. I’m embarrassed to admit that she surprised me. She had her teeth in my forearm before I realized what was happening. I immediately shot her through the head, so she wasn’t able to actually rip any flesh loose,” he held up his bare arm for all to view, “but as I’m sure you can see, her teeth drew blood.”
Many of the military men and the guards in the room reached for weapons, the officers realizing they didn’t have any in the presence of the president, while the guards were stopped by General Barnes shouting, “This happened three days ago!”
Finally everyone settled down and Brocktin motioned for Peterson to come closer so he could more closely examine the wound. After a long-minute of turning the arm back and forth in the light he exclaimed, “This is a human bite-wound, and it is healing.” He looked up. “You’re absolutely certain that the person who bit you was infected?”