Dark Divide (Shadow and Shine Book 2)

by Danial Hooper

“Is it any different than the lesson you’re trying to teach him right now?”

  “I suppose not, but still. You’re better than me.”

  “No such thing as better than or worse than. We’re all on equal footing under the sun.”

  “What else can you tell me?”

  “You’ve heard enough already, friend.”

  “Come on.”

  Mona’s smile and positive demeanor went away. She turned to Asher and looked at him with annoyance. “You act like this is an A to B math problem. But it’s a story. There’s a beginning, middle, and an end. We’re at the beginning. The beginning of every good story has conflict. Usually, a lot of conflict too. But that only makes the ending more satisfying and ends up making the conflict worthwhile. Without the conflict, the end is toast. Without the end, the conflict is a waste. The story demands to never waste conflict.”

  “So conflict is coming? More conflict with the Wolves? Adam?”

  “Not all enemies are evil.”

  “I don’t like that.”

  Mona smiled, again. “It’s not your story though. So it doesn’t matter if you like it or not.”

  “Whose is it?”

  “It’s the Hero’s story, duh. We’re supporting characters. Some of us get nothing more than a sentence or two. Sometimes it is going to feel like characters are wasted. But there is nothing wasted when there is a struggle.”

  “Conflict.”

  “Exactly. Don’t forget it either.”

  Asher smiled, he enjoyed these times with little Mona Morris. She was a good friend to have at the end of the world. Asher never had friends who called him out or challenged him, obviously he needed to meet a teenage black girl from Chicago to find a friend who met him on his level.

  “Anything else you can tell me?”

  “Tonight, it starts.”

  “What starts?

  “Humiliation.”

  “Oh. For us?”

  “No, but humble pie will be on the menu for us too.”

  “When?”

  “We need to talk about that.”

  *******

  Conrad Greene

  1846 (Eastern time)

  Washington, DC

  Conrad arrived back in the boardroom where Operation Red Wave began. Back with the group of trusted advisors from various levels of public and private viewpoints. All except for Sergeant Major Marshall and Hemant Chatra, who were traveling to Utah on a special mission with Conrad’s most trusted soldier.

  The room was mostly made up of white collar bean counters with PhDs talking circles around other people. It was a group who didn’t belong at the same table as the President of the United States, let alone given the honor as special advisors. Conrad couldn’t bring himself to respect any one here.

  Christopher Martin turned on the large screen which quickly was filled with Hemant Chatra’s face. He was the only one, other than President Watt, whom Conrad appreciated. A brilliant scientist with an actual sense of humility. “Is this on?” he asked, his voice echoed into the screen. Martin pressed a few buttons and gave him thumbs up. Underneath was a tracker showing his location, he was flying over Wyoming headed towards Boise, Idaho’s airport.

  His accent was thicker than it had been the last time they spoke. He can’t hide it through the stress. He said, “Mister General Greene, sir. Thank you so much for your service. I know Red Wave was difficult, but there is something you need to see.”

  The rest of the room sat staring at the screen. Part of the reason why Conrad struggled to respect these people is because they refused to respect, or even acknowledge, others.

  Marshall’s voice boomed from off camera, “Greeny, I’m not in the mood for pandering, so you’ll have to excuse the brevity. Mr. Martin has shown President Watt, Chatra and myself new footage. We wanted to make you, as well as the rest of the room aware and ask for your feedback.” Marshall coughed and continued, “Despite what Miss Francis said on the phone, Red Wave isn’t a failure.”

  The President spoke up, “As a matter of fact, this may be proof of the opposite. Up until an hour ago, we were unable to find confirmation of our threats being anything more than a theory. Like the Subas off the Nile.” Martin handed President Watt the clicker and the first image came on screen. It was an aerial view, not of Salt Lake City, but another flat city with surrounding mountains to the east. “What you see here is the city of Draper, Utah. It’s just south of Red Wave’s blast radius, but still a significant jaunt away from the Provo Border Line. As you can see, the area has been infected by the grey substance. We’re projecting the spread will make it to Provo in twelve hours.”

  The next click zoomed in the satellite footage. It was a view of some sort of outdoor strip mall.

  “When Martin brought this to my attention, I believed this was confirmation of fire being unable to prevent the substance from spreading. While this is frustrating, we knew we were taking a chance from the beginning. It was a hope, nothing more. However, Hemnat believes there is other evidence to support Red Wave as an operational success.”

  “Simply put, Mr. General Sir, The Grey has not stopped, but it appears to have slowed down. The explosion from the UAV GEN8-18, our friend Genie, has supportive evidence to have weakened the spread. Mr. Sergeant Marshall has offered to be my chauffeur to the northern end of Salt Lake City.”

  “Why not go where you have eyes?” Conrad asked.

  Christopher Martin spoke up, “We have eyes here as well.” He nodded to President Watt to click the next image. “What you see here is North Salt Lake. You can see The Grey has begun to eat away at a slower pace than the south end. Red Wave’s influence has morphed the rabbit into a turtle. It’s turned a plague into a cancer.”

  “Cancer still kills you.”

  “True, but it typically does so in a far more deliberate, patient manner, wouldn’t you agree? The comparison isn’t flawless, sorry. I’ll be sure to bring a better one next time. However, what I, and Dr. Chatra, believe, is there has been a change to the fundamental makeup of The Grey.”

  “You keep calling it The Grey, why?”

  “What else would you have it be labeled? We don’t know enough about it, other than the off-white color and infectious takeover. I’m sure Chatra will have a better name for it after he gets it under a microscope.”

  “As I was saying, gentlemen, The Grey is acidic in nature as it breaks down. Originally, it acted similar to Hydrofluoric acid but now it’s more closely aligned with ethanoic acid.”

  “Layman’s terms, please,” Francis said.

  “My mistake, madame.” Chatra looked back at Francis, it wasn’t the first time they were having this conversation. “To put it in the terms of a layman: The Grey is less like an acid made in a lab, and more similar to a semi-sold vinegar. This change came after Red Wave.”

  “Vinegar snowflakes? Come on, doc!” Marshall said, and began laughing.

  Conrad squinted at the screen. “Alright, so we’ve been able to slow down the substance. The firestorm wasn’t able to kill off the disease, but we know it made an impact. I wouldn’t exactly call this good news, but it’s better than nothing. That doesn’t explain why you would bring me back here. I thought my involvement in your team of advisors was only part time while I manned the Red Wave Operation?”

  “What gave you that idea?” Francis asked.

  “Call it a hunch.” Conrad replied.

  Martin knocked his knuckles against the table. “There is one other part we have not brought forward yet. President Watt, would you click over to the next aerial reading? I believe Greeny, as well as everyone else, will be shocked to see the other aspect of Red Wave’s success.”

  Another click brought back the view of Draper’s strip mall and industrial area. The clock at the bottom of the screen read, 22:25.

  Martin winked at Conrad. His smug attitude gave Conrad the urge to give him a dose of humility. Someone with a tiny backbone shouldn’t pretend to carry so much power. “What you see here is the
Kranen Mall of Draper. Really, it’s nothing more than a cheap strip mall with dry cleaner business as the primary attraction. There wasn’t much life before the evacuations, but now… as you can see, there is nothing. It’s almost 10:30pm, April 15 and there is not a soul in sight. Surprised?”

  “No.”

  “Of course not. But watch.”

  22:26 clicked on the screen.

  People.

  “Who are they?” Conrad leaned forward. It was foolish, the footage was too distant for it to make a difference.

  Martin again knocked on the table. “Ah! Well! General Greene! The better question would be to ask, what are they? Wouldn’t you agree?”

  “No. I meant the question I asked. I don’t need my own personal satellite to know people when I see them.”

  “Touché. Let’s switch over to the thermal reads,” Martin said. He was enjoying himself too much. President Watt looked over to Conrad out of the corner of his eyes, a signal for him to be patient. Conrad would be patient, but he didn’t have to pretend to like Martin.

  Martin continued, “What do you see now, Greeny?”

  There were no heat signals showing up on the footage. Conrad shook his head. “Nothing.”

  Click. Back to the standard footage with people running all over the parking lot of the strip mall.

  Click. Now to the lifeless thermal reads.

  Click. People running.

  Click. Black and blue screen, no yellow or red.

  Click.

  Conrad was astonished. “What? How? What are they using?”

  Martin smiled and answered, “I told you, Greeny. The question should have been what, right? Unless they’ve figured out a way to block out thermal scans from being thermal scans, which, come to think of it, is completely possible since they’ve already killed my satellites several times over. But unless they could do it again, albeit in an entirely different and pointless way, then what you are seeing here is a group of people running through the Kranen Mall of Draper without body heat.”

  “How is that possible?” Sarah asked.

  “It’s not,” Marshall replied. “Even the best forms of camouflage can’t completely block thermal reads. Even if they were able to cover themselves with something we’re unprepared for, there is still the heat imprint left from breathing and movements. It wouldn’t be strong, but it wouldn’t be black. Mr. President, what do you think?”

  President Watt stared with quiet intensity at the screen, chewing on the side of his mouth. His reply was slow and deliberate, “Have you reviewed other footage? I need a count of how many of these… Subas… there are.”

  Conrad thought back to the Subas. It was a term used by a small tribe along the Nile meaning a shadow or an echo. The tribe believed these Subas were the source of their internal hysterics. They went from a superstition to a religion as tribesmen went missing. They eventually performed internal-genocide by murdering their own children as sacrifice. Unlike in the Nile, there was documented proof of Subas existence in Salt Lake City.

  “What are they waiting for?” Francis asked.

  Conrad looked around the room. Chatra was appalled, as was Francis. Arthur Hale looked at the screen with a dreadful grimace. His face was better suited giving fake smiles and sarcastic frowns than portraying actual fear. Martin was too smug within his own skin to be frightened. Marshall was uneasy, but no enemy would make him bat an eye. Marshall made it out of Sudan, he wasn’t going to be phased stateside.

  Finally, the financial wizard, Joseph Beck, who rarely spoke, sat at the end of table completely unfazed, and cleared his throat. Conrad and Beck shared brief eye contact.

  “They’re waiting for us,” Beck answered.

  Martin scoffed, “What makes you say that?”

  “There is no reason to wait, unless they anticipate another explosion or don’t want to start a fight with a bunch of low-level soldiers guarding the Provo Border. Either they’re recharging because of the fire, or they are waiting for their prey to come out and meet them. Maybe we ticked them off when we dropped a firestorm on their city.”

  “Maybe you’ve watched too many bad television shows.”

  “Think about it, Chris,” Beck replied, saying Martin’s name with a mocking sarcasm. “These Subas run out of Salt Lake City just in time prior to a secret attack and now they’ve decided Draper, Utah is their paradise? Whatever they are, they’re able to power down electricity, block communications, and turn Salt Lake City into a ghost town in the span of days. I hope you have more sense than to disrespect this enemy by thinking they’re simply setting up shop in a laundromat.”

  “I think you should reconsider your cable subscription,” Martin joked. “Or better yet, why don’t you call my buddy, Bryce Chapman, and start wearing his tinfoil helmet? What other brilliant conspiracy theories do you have?”

  Chatra spoke up, “Suppose he’s correct, though. I don’t believe there is another sound hypothesis, is there?”

  No one answered. Francis looked to Conrad, as if expecting him to have an answer. The rest of the room looked amongst themselves like a group of dopes. Except President Watt, who continued his new habit of chewing on the side of his mouth.

  Beck and Martin scowled at one another. Conrad could tell there was more history between these two than he had time to care about. They were rivals in the pretend world. It was fun to see someone get under Martin’s skin, but it didn’t amount to anything.

  Beck continued, “Marshall, how many soldiers are in Provo?”

  “Last reported number was two hundred ninety six.”

  President Watt interjected, “That’s low. Why are we utilizing less than three hundred?”

  “The citizens have been peaceful, we didn’t need any more resources. To be frank, sir, you were the one who said more soldiers could have sent the wrong message and left the door open for panic.”

  Uriah turned and looked to Martin, “Are you certain there are no more than ten thousand?”

  Martin shrugged, “All reports show slightly over nine thousand nine hundred bodies moving.”

  “It appears we have two choices. Either wait on their next move or bring the fight to an enemy waiting for us. I’m not interested in playing a game with ten thousand men in my country. I want thirty thousand men in Draper by tomorrow night. Ground assault vehicles, aerial assault. I want to meet them head on. If they’re waiting for us, I want to end this battle before it begins,” President Watt said.

  Conrad raised his hand, “If I may, Mr. President, suggest an alternative?”

  President Watt shook his head, “I don’t know what else there is, Greeny.”

  “We’re in the dark on this enemy. While Red Wave was not a decisive victory, why not air strikes first? We can concentrate them into heavily populated areas. There is even the air force base North of Salt Lake for birds. This would keep soldiers out of the heat of battle, lower the risk of anyone leaking the truth, and sustain our distance from the enemy.”

  “It’s been tried already,” Marshall said. “If we’re looking to keep things quiet, we don’t need screaming birds dropping screaming eggs to wake up the neighborhood. An operation like this doesn’t need to be a publicity nightmare. Crossing thirty thousand gunmen through the evac-zones is too alarming. Let’s cut the number in half and send fifteen thousand highly trained gunmen. We will bring five thousand from the south, five thousand from the north, and five thousand from the west. We cross borders after curfew, spend the evening in Draper, and head back the following night as if nothing ever happened. In the meantime, Chatra and my team can hitch a ride on north-entrance helo stopping along the way and out of the line of fire. We can do our inspections out of the line of sight.”

  Uriah nodded. “Arthur, let’s schedule an emergency Presidential announcement, tonight. Between these new findings in Utah and the UN meeting tomorrow, we need to get ahead of our enemies. We all know what’s going to come from Ugo Ban, we can’t afford to look surprised when the decision is made.
I would rather approach them head on and take care of the problem before Ban’s microphone is on.”

  “Excuse me, sir, what are you expecting from Mr. Ban?” Chatra asked.

  Each person turned towards him, confused by his ignorance. Chatra was one of the most brilliant men in the world, yet he didn’t know about Ugo Ban.

  Martin’s faced looked like he bit into a lemon. “Seriously?”

  “Yes, Mr. Martin. What am I missing? I understand he is in a position of leadership in the United Nations. I understand he has a negative history with America. But I do not understand what you… all of you… believe is going to happen tomorrow at the UN Summit.”

  Francis jumped in, “Ugo Ban is going to give one of his 24 hour decrees, do you know what that is?”

  “Yes—”

  Martin interrupted, “It means the UN’s about to threaten nuclear warfare.”

  “Not quite,” Conrad said. He shared a look with President Watt, they shared the frustration with the word Nuclear. “The UN’s weapons of mass destruction don’t transmit radiation. They’re not nukes. The blast radius is wider than Hiroshima and Nagasaki, but its nothing more than fire and force. No poison in the air afterwards. In the military, we call them Bukes. They’re like nukes, but they burn nearly everything down without leaving the long term damage.”

  “Ah, thank you, General.”

  President Watt smirked. He always enjoyed when Conrad gave history lessons. “May I continue, Greeny?”

  Conrad nodded.

  “Thank you. As I was saying, tonight we validate the terrorist rumors and utilize this as a built in excuse to send in soldiers. Martin, I need you to run stories on this on all media platforms. Work with Sarah tonight to come up with the ideal strategies as well as distracting issues. Let our celebrity friends know we’re going to be running over a rotation of their major news announcements as well. We want to control how people feel about this, let’s give them some Hollywood banter as well.

  Beck can help conjure up a story on the financial implications of Salt Lake City’s fall. Give them some traction, I want heavy media coverage and content for the next one hundred hours.”