* * *
“We need to let the President know of this new development,” Randal said to Mark.
“What are you going to tell him?”
“Just what we found and what it potentially means.”
“Are you going to tell him anything else?”
“Not just yet. You know we are going to have to investigate that mining shaft. We have to know. It could be our only hope,” Peel said.
“I’ll get a team together and see what we can come up with. You do realize it is five miles down to the bottom of that pit,” Mark replied.
“What other option do we have?”
“None. I’ll let you know what our plan of attack is.”
“While you’re doing that, I’ll call the President.”
“Good luck with that. I don’t think he likes either of us very much,” Mark said.
“That is so far down on my list of things to care about you can’t imagine.”
“I can. It’s two higher on your list that mine,” he said, waving as he went out the door.
Randal slowly picked up the phone and dialed the White House. After repeating the code he was immediately connected to the Office of the President.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
Jerry Washburn loaded the last case in his beat up van and closed the door. It wasn’t as much as he would have liked but his contact had only been able to get three cases of empty medical bottles. They were somewhat larger than he wanted but maybe he could turn that to his advantage.
He had used a needle to inject the tops with nothing more than distilled water. Jerry was calculating how much he would make off of this little endeavor. If he charged two hundred dollars a bottle he figured that he would clear twenty-four thousand dollars after paying for the bottles. Not bad for a little water.
He drove the battered van into Breckentown and parked by the most popular restaurant in town.
“Hi Jerry, how have you been,” the balding man at the cash register said when he came in.
“Heck, same as always. I can seat myself.”
“Sure, you know the menu by heart anyway,” he said as he counted out change for another customer.
Jerry sat in his usual booth and turned his coffee cup over.
“Well, look who’s here. Where have you been keeping yourself Jerry?” the waitress asked.
“Taking care of business.”
“That’s all you ever do. You must be one busy fellow. What can I get ya?”
“Just the coffee. Oh, some of that coconut cream pie would be good too.”
“You got it. Be right back.”
“I’ll be right here,” he quipped.
He waited until she brought the coffee pot and placed the pie in front of him.
“Ellie, listen, I've got something that some of your customers may be interested in,” he said in a low voice.
She looked down at him and stopped pouring.
“What kind of something? Nothing illegal I hope.”
“Not exactly illegal but believe me it is lifesaving.”
“What are you talking about Jerry? Not drugs.”
“Not like you mean. Look, I was able to get hold of a small supply of that Ebola vaccine. It is supposed to be a military secret. They have been giving it to the military people but not to the population. That doesn’t seem right to me. Why should they be the only ones to have it? What's wrong with us?” he asked sincerely.
“I thought there was no vaccine. That’s what they said on the news.”
“Hell yes. Of course that’s what they want us to believe. I know it exists because I have four cases that a good friend of mine was able to get his hands on. It cost me a bunch but I just can’t see why we have to suffer while the military goes about like nothing happened.”
“Jerry. Are you pulling my leg? They really do have a vaccine to keep people from dying from this disease?”
“I took it myself and I’m not worried about it a bit. I’m telling you. They have the means to protect the general population but they just don’t think we are important enough.”
“What are you talking about in price?” she asked slipping into the booth.
“I was able to get only one gross of the stuff. That’s a hundred and forty-four bottles. I had to fork over twenty-five thousand dollars for it but hey, how much is my life worth? It seems like a lot but think about it. If you were protected from this killer for two hundred bucks wouldn’t you do it? I damn sure would. In fact I did.”
“Two hundred dollars. I guess you’re right. Dying a slow painful death to save two hundred bucks is pretty stupid. Are you willing to sell me a bottle?” she asked.
“Of course. Look, I want to sell it to people who, you know, deserve it. Not just some schmuck. If you think they may be interested and are good people, have them drop by the Super SaverMart. I’ll be there in my van until it is gone. Keep in mind, I can’t get more. When it’s gone it’s gone,” he warned her.
“I know some people right now that would buy it in a heartbeat. What if you already have come into contact with this virus? Will it still work?”
“I don’t know for sure but if they aren’t in the hospital already I would think it should help. I don’t want to lie to anyone, I just don’t know for sure how much it will help.”
“But it might?”
“It couldn’t hurt,” he said and smiled.
“When can I get a bottle? I work in here almost every day and you know it’s only a matter of time.”
“Then you should be the first to get inoculated. I can go out to the van and get you a bottle right now. Don’t let everyone see it. I don’t want a rush of people. I don’t care about the money as much as helping people,” Jerry said sincerely.
“You’re a good person Jerry,” she said and patted his arm, “I’ll have to get it a little later. I don’t have two hundred bucks here.”
“Heck, I’ll get you the bottle. You can pay me later. I consider you a good friend as well,” he replied.
He knew he had to unload it quickly and get out of town before someone caught on.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
“What did the President say?” Mark asked when he came back from the hospital.
“She wants me to come to Washington immediately. They are sending a special Air Force jet to pick me up.”
“Wow. Your own private… wait. You said she.”
“Yes. It seems President Thornburg is incapacitated and that Andria Toll is the Acting President.”
“Whoa. No kidding? Incapacitated how?” Mark asked.
“I don’t know and she didn’t say. I thought it better not to ask.”
“Then I had better get you the latest figures. They are not good. Unfortunately the President's unwillingness to evoke the no travel restrictions has allowed it to get into other states.”
“I’ve been expecting that. Let’s see what you have,” Randal said.
He looked at the paper. The numbers almost staggered him. It had taken an alarming jump.
Kentucky: 19,578 Dead: 62,943 Suspected Cases
Tennessee: 12,143 Dead: 18,300 Suspected Cases
Illinois: 18,894 Dead: 119,456 Suspected Cases
Nevada: 12,897 Dead: 81,345 Suspected Cases
California: 21,879 Dead: 163,988 Suspected Cases
Oregon: 9,760 Dead: 21,560 Suspected Cases
Arkansas: 22,101 Dead: 43,210 Suspected Cases
Texas: 32,980 Dead: 85,778 Suspected Cases
Oklahoma: 856 Dead: 1,135 Suspected Cases
Washington State: 11,767 Dead: 29,656 Suspected
Washington D.C.: 1,734 Dead: 9,454 Suspected
CURRENT TOTALS: DEAD 164,589
SUSPECTED CASES: 637,045
ALL TOTAL: 801,634
No other states reporting cases.
“Oh, oh, oh. This is even worse than I had imagined. It’s hit California big time,” Randal said, his hand shaking as he read down the list.
“Six states didn’t send an
y report so we don’t know if it made it to them.”
“What states?” Randal said, looking up from the paper and frowning.
“Pennsylvania, Ohio, West Virginia, Virginia, and Florida. All the other missing states report no outbreaks.”
“Do you really believe that?”
“No. Even with all of the information we have sent out, some doctors will still misdiagnose it as a bad cold or flu. All doctors are not created equal,” Mark said.
Just then the door opened and a wide eyed young military man stood there holding an envelope.
“Sirs. I was to give this to you ASAP. It was sent by secure military line,” he said and held the envelope out.
Randal took it from the shaking man’s hand.
TOP SECRET: CLASSIFIED INFORMATION
was across the top. A seal was over the opening.
Mark raised his eyebrows.
“Are you to wait for a reply?”
“Oh, no sir. Just deliver it.”
“Alright thank you,” Randal said.
He opened the envelope. It had the Presidential Seal at the top of the page.
Doctor Randal Peel,
I have some rather bad news to share with you. I received calls from the United Kingdom and Italy late last night. They have both reported cases of the Ebola virus starting to spread in their countries.
While they did not accuse the United States of any wrong doing they are nevertheless understandably upset. I realize there is nothing we can do about this at the moment but I felt it was imperative that you were made aware.
Acting President,
Andria Toll
“Well it’s out. Our worst fears have been realized. We officially have a worldwide epidemic,” Mark said.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
Bud watched as the man climbed out of his car and opened the trunk. He hauled a suitcase out and sat it on the ground.
“I see you made it.”
“Yeah. You said it was just past the river but I blew on by, took me awhile to realize I had missed it. Hard to see in the dark.”
“Doesn’t matter. You made it,” Bud said holding out his hand.
Ed handed him two hundred and fifty dollars. He slowly counted it.
“Good. Now here is the plan. I have a skiff that will get us across. They patrol the river but I’ve been watchin’ and keeping track of their patrols. Every once in a while they slip an extra one in but mostly they have a pretty set patrol pattern,” he told Ed.
“So we slip by when they make their way past your place?”
“Not exactly. We have to time it just right. If we leave too early we will get caught by the one coming up stream, if we leave too late the one coming down stream will get us. Don’t worry about that part. I’ll take care of that.”
Ed coughed a few times breaking the stillness of the night.
“Now look, you can’t be doing that. Noise carries a long way over water. You start coughing like that and we are sure to get caught. You’re alright ain’t you?”
“Yeah. My allergies are acting up. They always make me cough and give me a headache. I’m used to it.”
“Well, you have to really watch it once we get on the water,” Bud warned.
“I’ll be fine,” Ed replied.
It was close to midnight when Bud slid the rope off the skiff and let it drift a ways. They sat and watched as the police patrol had cruised slowly up the river. After it had passed Moore Island, Ed started the electric trolling motor. The current was carrying them down river at a fairly good clip. Ed wanted to just use the electric motor until the last thing when they approached Dorena Ferry.
He would then use the outboard motor if necessary to get the man to the ramp. He glanced at his watch. It was going to be close but he felt they could still make it without having to resort to using the outboard.
Ed coughed two or three times before he could choke it back. Bud turned and gave him a dirty look but didn’t say anything. The guy didn’t look all that well to him.
They were within a hundred yards of the landing when Bud saw the lights of a patrol boat coming around the bend.
“You have to stay quiet. The boat is coming,” he whispered to Ed.
Ed nodded and sank down in the boat further. Bud shook his head thinking, like that will help? They will either see us or they won’t. He had the little motor wide open but it was still making for the shore too slow for his liking. The patrol boat turned slightly in their direction and he knew they were not going to make it to the landing. Only a few yards ahead was a grain elevator so he made a quick decision. He headed the skiff for the shore and was able to bottom it out.
“Come on,” he whispered to Ed, jumping out of the boat and pulling it further up on the land.
They ducked down behind the skiff and waited. They could hear the patrol boat’s motor shift into idle and suddenly a bright light started playing across the water and the shoreline. They held their breath, willing the boat to pass on by.
Ed was trying his best not to cough, but it seemed the harder he tried the more he felt he had to let it out. The light went out and the boat picked up speed, swinging back toward the middle of the channel. Ed finally couldn’t hold it another second and started coughing.
By then the patrol boat was past them and picking up speed.
“That was damned close,” Bud said, starting to push the skiff off the beach, “Get in. It’s not much further.”
Ed climbed in the boat, and Bud saw that the man was not looking very good. Once Ed was seated, Bud climbed in and let the boat drift. It was only a half mile to the landing. Just before they reached the ferry, Bud started the engine and slid the boat right up to the ramp.
“Okay Ed. This is as far as I go.”
Ed climbed out, dragging his suitcase and reached into his pocket.
“It’s okay. You use the money for your family. I don’t need it all that much anyway,” Bud said.
“No sir. I said five hundred.”
Bud was already backing the boat away from the landing.
“Take care of your family. Good luck Ed.”
“Same to you Bud. And thank you from me and my family.”
Bud just waved and headed back out into the channel. He would have to use the engine going up stream. All he would need was a little luck to get back home.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
THE LOS ANGELES TIMES — The worst rioting this city has seen since the 60’s broke out today. A ten square block area was rocked by looters. Police tried to restore calm in the area but were pushed back by large gangs of armed rioters.
When the Mayor, Allen Findlay was asked how the rioters acquired such a large amount of firearms since California had some of the nation’s strictest gun laws, he had no comment.
Three police officers were killed and seventeen injured in gun fire exchanges. As of tonight, a large section of the city’s downtown is in flames and firefighters are refusing to go into the area without adequate protection. Police Chief Warren Spanner said that he could not guarantee their safety until they were able to control the downtown area.
* * *
Roland sat in the Oval Office waiting for the President. Also waiting were the Secretary of the Interior, Secretary of Defense, and the Chief of Staff. A General sat off to the side and had not made any attempt to introduce himself.
Everyone was more or less lost in thought when a Marine opened the door and Andria Toll, Acting President, walked in and sat down behind the desk.
“Thank you all for coming on such short notice,” she said, not waiting for formal introductions.
“Time is of the essence and I would like to cut directly to the heart of the matter. I see the Secretary of Transportation is missing. Does anyone know why?”
“Madam President, Calvin is in the hospital. He was admitted about twenty minutes ago.”
“Ebola?”
“Probably.”
“Has he been wearing his mask?” she asked, reaching up to
make sure hers was in place.
“I don’t know. You know Calvin, vanity is more important than safety,” the Chief of Staff said.
“Alright. Doctor Peel, You have the latest figures for us I believe.”
It was a statement, not a question. He handed a sheet to her and she studied it for several seconds before looking up at him.
“And six states have not reported so we don’t know the true number. Just extrapolating from what you have here, we’re looking at a million people, either dead or soon will be.”
“That is correct.”
“And where do we stand on stopping this thing?”
“Honestly, we don’t. Without being overly critical, too much time was wasted in talking. If Doctor Riser had been allowed to stop interstate travel, we would probably not be in this position. You are undoubtedly aware that he tried to get in to see the President for two days. And then he was still stalled further. It wasn’t until the DVCT came in with the authority to override the President that the necessary precautions were activated. During that time the window of opportunity to limit the spread had passed,” he said.
“I see. That is a pretty accusatory statement,” she said looking directly into his eyes.
“No Madam President. That is a fact,” he said not breaking eye contact.
Finally she looked back at the list. She shook her head, wondering how this would all play out.
“Betty, obviously we are not containing the population well enough. It is still spreading to other states. What do we need to do? More specifically, what do you need to do the job?”
“People. We are stretched too thin to be effective. We can cover most of the routes but we don’t have enough to deter people from slipping through the cracks.”
“By people you mean the military?”
“Regular military, reserves or whatever we can get. Until we can plug the cracks we are going to have continued spreading.”
“General Ashford, what can you do to help?”
General Ashford was short, five-six or seven, one hundred and eighty pounds of solid muscle and a face that looked like it had been chiseled out of granite. His voice was deep and authoritative.
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