Awake

by Edward J. McFadden III

  Don’s leg hurt, his cuts stung, and every muscle in his body was straining to stay in motion. Everyone in the boat had gotten some sleep, except him. He was going on almost two full days without sleep, and even his well-conditioned body was breaking down.

  “So where does this rank on your adventure scale, Agent Oberbier?” Tristin asked.

  “Hardly an adventure. Those are fun. A nightmare, maybe,” Don said. When he looked at the young girl, she was staring at him. “This is far worse than any situation I’ve ever heard of or been involved with. It’s unprecedented. First of its kind. What’s happened here will change the world like 9/11.”

  “Why did you stay? You could have gotten out after your first encounter,” Lester said.

  “First, I don’t ask others to put themselves in harm’s way unless I’m willing to do so myself. Something the dirtbags in Washington would do well to learn. Second, there are probably people still pissed about the way I called for the quarantine. I jumped the entire chain of command. Best I’m out of sight. Easiest for the brass as well. Plus, who knew the situation on the ground better than me? I was the most qualified, at the time, to conduct an inside investigation.”

  “Man, how’s the weather up there?” Maureen asked.

  “What?” Don said.

  “That’s a mighty tall horse you ride,” Lester said.

  “Maybe. What about you guys? You two haven’t exactly lacked in confidence,” Don said to Lester and Maureen.

  Lester started to answer and then stopped. He stared into the night as if searching for something. “There,” he said, pointing across a small pond choked with grass. “See the small sandy area where the crocs hang out.” Tony panned the light to the left, revealing the dark pond and the tiny beach.

  “Yeah,” Don said.

  “Put ashore there. Don’t worry about the gators. The noise and our light will send them scattering like cockroaches,” Lester said.

  Don looked to Saura, who’d taken the loss of Jessie hard, and was now petrified of alligators and everything that slithered and bit. She didn’t appear to have heard their conversation. Her head rested on Tristin’s shoulder, and she looked to be asleep. Don pushed the motor control arm to the right, and the skiff turned left into a pond across which was the sandy shore. The sound of the sawgrass scrapping against the boat created a cacophony of squeaks and squeals that would scare away any predator. Moonlight glinted off the water, and the surface slithered and moved with bugs and snakes.

  The boat crunched onto shore, and Don grabbed the flashlight and the M16, their only two remaining possessions, not counting the sample, which was safely back in Don’s possession. One by one, they stepped off the boat and huddled together against the night. Don tied the airboat off on a cypress tree, gave Lester the flashlight, and led them into the woods.

  A path ran through a thin patch of trees and gave way to mangroves. In the dark, it was hard to see anything outside the flashlight beam. Beneath the trees, the constant cacophony subsided somewhat, and Don noticed his ears were ringing. As they walked, saw palmetto filled the forest floor, and giant slash pines and royal palm towered above. To the northeast was a ranger station and visitor’s center for Everglades National Park.

  Lester tripped on a root and dropped the flashlight. It hit the ground with a thud, but didn’t go off. It lit the saw palmetto from below and sent an arc of light across the Glades. Birds scattered from their resting places, owls hooted, and something unseen jumped from the tree boughs and hit the undergrowth with a crash and scurried away.

  “Butterfingers,” Tristin said.

  Lester chuckled, and picked up the light. “That’s what Cammy used to call me.”

  “Who is Cammy?” Tristin asked.

  “Cammy was my daughter,” Lester said. His face could be seen in the glow of the flashlight beam, and he looked troubled.

  No one spoke. Was his daughter.

  After a few minutes, Lester said, “She was your age, Tristin. Just walking home from school, listening to her music, and a car jumped the curb, and she was hit. She died on the scene, and a piece of me, and all of my wife, died with her.”

  “What happened?” asked Maureen.

  “Man had a heart attack while driving. They revived him, and he lives to this day as far as I know,” Lester said.

  “Good God,” Tony said.

  “God had nothing to do it. It was a random tragedy. The old man who hit her once told me he wished he’d died because he sees Cammy’s face in his dreams every night, and he can no longer sleep. My wife couldn’t handle it, and I found her in our bathtub with…” Lester patted Tristin on the head. “She didn’t want to live anymore.”

  Every muscle in Don’s body tightened, and his chest burned as he fought back tears. The sensation scared him. “Man, I’m sorry. And I called you…”

  “Forget it. How could you have known?” Lester said.

  “Doesn’t matter. I should have known better,” Don said. He moved so fast through life, always calculating and making plans, and all the while justifying his every action with the idea he helped the greater good. But how often did his words or actions crush people he wasn’t even aware of? He gave orders without thinking about what they might mean for families, and he thought perhaps it was time for him to change his approach. A nice thought, but one he doubted he’d be able to live up to.

  They came to an old, rusty, dilapidated fence. The razor wire at its top was corroded and broken, and in spots chain link sections had fallen away entirely. “This used to be maintained when there was something to guard,” Lester said. They passed through a wide gap in the fence, and the trees became sparser. “The park service gives tours of the place, so it’s far from a top security zone. Normally, though, if you came out here without a ranger or park personnel, you’d get caught and fined. There are cameras around the old buildings and entrances. None of that will be working now, though.”

  “What do they give tours of?” asked Don. “If my memory serves, there’s not much there except old buildings and a lot of cracked concrete.”

  “They keep a decommissioned display model of a rocket battery in the old assembly building. It’s an example of the type of surface-to-surface missiles that were once the focus of the H-69 site during the Cuban Missile crisis. It was a major reclamation project for the park,” Lester said.

  Streams and bogs sprang up out of nowhere in the darkness, and they battled through sawgrass, passed gators, and around huge spider webs. Twice, the flashlight beam had died, and they’d stood frozen in the blackness for several minutes while Lester fiddled with the light in the pitch black. The second time he had to take the batteries out, and Don marveled at his friend’s concentration. Animals squawked and howled at them, but there were no real predators. Moonlight streamed through the tree canopy, and a massive field of sawgrass ran around a large hardwood hammock to their left.

  “How are we getting through that?” Don asked.

  “There’s a path,” Lester said. “I just need to find it.”

  They didn’t have to walk much further before they found Lester’s path, and they hit the road a few minutes later. Long Pine Key Road was a lonely, unlit, barely paved two lane that ran to the entrance of H-69. They had more than two miles to go.

  It was 11:19PM.

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  Maureen walked up the road in silence. There was nothing left to say. There would be time enough for goodbyes once they were out. Her throat hurt, she was hungry, tired, and her legs and feet were so sore each step was an effort. Survival had occupied every second for the last two days, and as her mind drifted, she contemplated life without Tim. She could go anywhere she wanted. There were hospitals everywhere, and they always needed good nurses. Every time she felt positive about her future, the memories of those lost pulled her back into despair. She remembered shooting Tim. The look on his face as he transformed.

  Nothing moved on the road ahead or behind. Lester shuffled along the best he could,
nursing his wounds. Saura had her arm around Tristin, and Tank trotted between Tony and Don. They walked casually, as they were less than a mile from H-69. To Maureen, her companions sounded in high spirits, but perhaps it was nothing more than the sheer relief at having survived.

  She listened as Tony and Lester spoke of war, and military service. Fighting. Always fighting. They sounded so content speaking about it, as if making war was as common and acceptable as baking bread, or fixing a car. What would be the fiscal effect of the quarantine of south Florida, and how would it affect the nation? Don had called it a 9/11 type event, and that nutballs would try to copy the disease. They’d be inspired by what the puppeteers of Drago had created. Then there was Miami. If an anecdote wasn’t found soon, there was little hope for the people living there.

  She felt that pang of guilt again, the one where her body tried to convince her mind she was putting herself above others, but this argument didn’t sway her in the slightest. She had no control in this world. A world ruled by sleepwalkers that were also human beings that could be saved. Perhaps there would be an awakening, but Maureen thought it highly unlikely. From what Don had said, the key element was maintaining the quarantine. Everything else was secondary.

  Mangrove trees filled the shoulder on both sides of the road, and she imagined soldiers marching up and down the lane when the base had been in full operation. She thought she heard their ghosts urging her on, helping her take those final steps.

  The trees gave way to a huge open area surrounded by a fence topped with razor wire. The area looked extra-large in the darkness after the tight confines of the Glades. The earth had been sculpted in this area, and Maureen saw why they referred to the H-69 as The Hole in the Donut. It did look like the hole in the center of a green subtropical forest.

  “Normally, these lights would be on,” Lester said, as they passed two poles with large lights mounted atop them.

  They came to a gate secured via lock and chain. In the distance, the faint rumble of a helicopter could be heard. They had run out of time. Maureen’s watch read 11:57PM.

  Don checked the lock to make sure it was actually locked, and wasn’t simply lined up to make it appear locked. He racked the slide on the M16, and said, “Lester, shine the flashlight on the lock.”

  The sound of the helicopter got louder, and a small red light approached from the north. With no time left, Don shot the lock, and removed the chain. The gate swung open with a whine, and they all ran toward a group of buildings at the end of the road. They passed a large sign with the word “restricted” in huge letters on the top, followed by paragraphs of federal legal text below.

  The flashlight beam wobbled in the darkness, and the whomp whomp of the helicopter got louder. Maureen was on Don’s heals as he ran the final section of road toward the buildings. Maureen’s shins throbbed with pain as they left the worn blacktop and headed across the concrete lot at the center of the dilapidated structures. Lines of dead grass crisscrossed the concrete like pathways.

  They hid behind the assembly building, and Maureen took inventory as everyone arrived, and the entire crew was present and accounted for. The copter thundered above, and the crafts landing lights dropped through the darkness.

  The copter touched down like a tornado, and dirt and debris rose into the air. The craft’s exterior floodlights lit the area as two soldiers jumped out.

  Maureen covered her eyes, the bright light blinding her after hours of walking in the dark. Don leaned the M16 against the assembly building. “Best not to spook them,” he said, when he saw Maureen watching him.

  “Stay here until I call you,” yelled Don to the group. He stepped out from behind the building into the bright light, his arms raised.

  Doubt and desperation ran through Maureen. He would betray them. He would get on the helicopter with the sample and leave her and the rest now that he didn’t need them. Her angst grew until Don argued with one of the soldiers. There appeared to be a dispute, but after a few minutes of discussion, Don waved them over.

  “He wouldn’t give them the sample until we’re on board,” Lester said. He held his shoulder, and blood dripped through his fingers.

  “Oh,” said Maureen when she saw the blood. “I thought I locked that down for you.”

  “All the commotion tore the bandage,” said Lester. He waited for Tristin, Tank, Saura, and Tony to get ahead of him. Then he held out his arm for Maureen. “After you.”

  When Maureen arrived at the helicopter, it was difficult to hear anything over the pounding of the rotors, which still spun at a slower rate. Don stood next to the soldiers, and Maureen and crew formed a rough line leading to the open maw of the copter.

  Tristin stepped up first, and a soldier met her as she went to climb aboard.

  “Arm, please,” the soldier yelled.

  Tristin held out her arm, and the soldier produced a white device that looked like the high-tech blood meters diabetics use. He put the device to Tristin’s arm, and it pricked her. She pulled her arm away with a squeal, and covered the wound with her hand. The soldier stared at the device’s display screen, then yelled, “Clear. You may go aboard.”

  Next up was Saura, and she was clear. So it went with Tony, Lester, and Tank. When it was Maureen’s turn, she stepped forward, and the knot in her stomach twisted her insides so hard she threw up in her mouth. The pinch of the device stung a little, but when the soldier pronounced her clear, a tide of relief swam through her. She climbed into the helicopter, collapsed into a cargo seat, and barely noticed as a soldier strapped her in.

  Don stepped forward, the wrapped sample in his hand. The soldier pricked Don, but as he went to hoist himself into the helicopter, the soldier put out his hand. “One more time,” the soldier said, as he looked quizzically at the testing device.

  Maureen knew the results before the soldier announced them. Part of her had always known somehow.

  “I’m sorry, Agent Oberbier, but you are infected,” the soldier said.

  Don pulled back his tattered shirtsleeve, revealing what looked like a small shark bite. Maureen cursed Jeb, and everything that had brought her to this time and place. There was an awkward pause, as no one was sure what to do next. Then the soldiers boarded the copter, and prepared for takeoff. Don handed the soldier who had tested him the sample of tainted money, and in return, Don received a small black box that looked like a phone. Don stared at the device as he listened to the soldier’s instructions, and then stepped away.

  “See you guys in another life,” Don shouted.

  “Noooooo,” Maureen yelled. She struggled to unbuckle her harness, but the copter’s turbine was already accelerating, and preparing to take off. Kristin cried, and Lester’s head was in his hands.

  Tank barked and bolted past the soldiers sitting by the copters open side door. The dog disappeared over the edge of helicopter’s deck and was gone. Maureen fought to free herself, but they held her back, and she felt the copter lift from the ground. All the exterior floodlights went out, and Don was lost in the murky darkness. The helicopter listed as it rose, and all Maureen saw was the rolling of the stars, and her tears.

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  Don caught Tank as he jumped from the helicopter, and they both went to the ground in a tangle of arms, legs, and paws. The animal licked Don’s face as the HH-60 Pave Hawk lifted off. Wind tore at them as they lay on the concrete, dirt and garbage swirling in the surrounding air. Don watched the copter rise into the night, his worries slipping away. The craft’s floodlights winked out, and Don was plunged into darkness. He didn’t know where the flashlight had ended up, but it was gone, and there was nothing for it. The sound of the helicopter’s rotors cutting through the air receded into the night, and soon only the red running light could be seen moving away north.

  “What a stupid move, my friend,” Don said to the dog. Tank still sat on Don’s chest and licked his face.

  As he lay on his back staring at the stars, a wave of relief washed over him. He�
��d spent his entire adult life worrying for others, sacrificing for the greater good. While his ending wasn’t what he’d hoped for, he’d still completed his mission. He got the sample out, discovered how the pathogen was being transmitted, and got some of his crew out alive. He’d pushed forward without thinking about tomorrow, and now he didn’t have one. That thought was oddly comforting, not having a tomorrow to worry about. He’d made the best of his second chance and had no regrets.

  Tank slide off him, and rested his head on Don’s stomach. He turned the emergency beacon over and over in his hand. If things changed, they would contact him. The device only worked one way, and he couldn’t contact them. Don could barely keep his eyes open, and when they closed, the real night would fall. He lay there a long time, watching the helicopter’s red running light recede into the distance until it was only a pinprick against the stars.

  When it disappeared from view, he sat up, and Tank snapped to attention. The poor animal thought they were still striving toward a goal. Under a gibbous moon, Don made his way back to the assembly building and picked up the M16. He might need the weapon. Then he put it back where he’d found it and headed for the base’s entrance. What good could come of him having the rifle once he became one of them?

  As he walked across the base, he tossed the emergency beacon in the air. If something changed. He had to laugh to himself, yet maybe there was hope there. His people wouldn’t give up on him, and Massie would never give up. He was reaching, he knew, but what else was there left to do? Being free from worry also meant the loss of control.