Eradication: Project Apex book II

by Michael Bray

  "You will now be assigned into groups and given roles to fulfil. Do them to the best of your ability."

  "What if we don’t," an anonymous voice said from the back of the crowd.

  Lucas hesitated and smiled, then turned and looked out over the people who were working on the grounds of the farm. Some were tending to cattle, others building cabins, others still were digging foundations for more planned constructions. Lucas let his eyes drift over them until they settled on a man who was sawing wood planks for a log cabin which was nearing completion. Filthy and with what looked to be an infected bullet wound in his shoulder, the man was erratic as he worked the saw blade, pausing intermittently to adjust his grip as he gritted his teeth against the pain.

  "Him," Lucas said.

  One of the men flanking him responded, striding across the boggy land towards the man, who looked up in time to see everyone staring at him. He doubled his efforts and lowered his gaze as the black-clad man approached. Without a word being said, the injured man was grabbed by the arm and dragged across the dirt, somehow managing to keep his feet as he left his saw wobbling in the half cut plank. The man was tossed on the ground in front of Lucas, where he cowered and trembled. Lucas paid him no attention. Instead, he looked at the men standing in front of him. Some looked back, others lowered their heads, not wanting to meet his gaze.

  "This man is not making the necessary effort. As a result, he has no use to us. He is a parasite, a waste of resources. Joshua says there can be no freeloaders in the new world. All who wish to be able to live within it must play a part. Now I could shoot this man in the head, right here, right now without fear of consequence and my problem would appear solved, however, I won’t. Not through compassion, but because I don’t want to waste a bullet."

  He jabbed a thumb over his shoulder. “The rest of them are watching. They still work of course, but if you look, you can see them waiting to see what happens. Now instead of killing this man, I could punish him, perhaps strip him of everything. Clothing, dignity, possessions, and then turn him out beyond the gates to let fate decide what happens to him. And yet, to do so means to give him a chance to survive, and in turn rendering such action as a possible reward rather than punishment."

  He hesitated again, looking at the men who stood beyond the line in the dirt.

  "Or, I could send him back to work, knowing he will give his all because he now knows the possible fates which could await him. With this, I get to keep my workforce, and attain maximum effort from this man where before there was less than fifty percent."

  Lucas smiled, and he reminded Alan of some kind of reptile, maybe a snake. "However, this solution also has its problems, in that it takes away the element of fear, and as you will come to learn, fear is the key to maintaining control. As I’m sure you can imagine, if I were to let this man return to work unpunished, then tomorrow I will have two men slacking from their work, the day after four, then six. It would breed. No, I’m afraid, in this instance, the solution is clear."

  Without taking his eyes off the men in front of him, Lucas took out his pistol and shot the cowering man in the back of the head. He made no sound as he crumpled face first into the boggy earth, one filthy foot kicking and scrabbling for a few seconds as the puddle of water around his head turned red. The men who had been brought in gawped open mouthed, as if they were expecting the man to stand again and tell them that this is what could happen to them if they weren't careful, however the man didn’t stand, he stayed where he was, one arm tucked underneath him, the other splayed out in the dirt.

  "As you can see," Lucas whispered, still wearing his reptilian smile. "In this case, the solution was clear. The price of a bullet was worthwhile in order to maintain the fear amid those who work here. Although I have lost the efforts of this worker, everyone else will have seen this display and will double their efforts, which gives me a much healthier turnover in production, maintains my authority, and rids me of an underperforming worker who didn’t appreciate the gift he was given in being allowed to survive. I want each of you to heed this example. Think about it, and learn from it. You are all expendable. If you wish to survive, you do as you are told. It really is as simple as that."

  Lucas waited to see if there were any protests, then went on.

  "Very good. You will now be assigned your tasks and shown where you will sleep. Prior to that, there is one more vital thing you all should know and pay attention to."

  He turned and pointed to the barn which was set away from the farmhouse and heavily guarded by more of the black-clad men, who were in greater number there than anywhere else.

  "The barn is restricted. If you approach it, try to access it, or are even heard to be discussing it, you will suffer the same fate as the man lying at your feet. This will be the only warning of this. Understood?"

  He waited for a few seconds for a reply, then nodded. "Good. Then let us delay no further. Prepare to be assigned jobs."

  Lucas strode away as the rest of his men started to sort and assign the men into groups. Alan barely noticed. All he wanted to know was where his wife was and what had happened to her.

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  Pentagon War Room

  Washington DC, USA

  Without satellite access, the President of the United States was relying only on the information presented by the network of drones currently in active airspace. Piloted remotely from the ground, the drones were capable of relaying video feed to the war room in the Pentagon. The President and the rest of his staff watched as increasingly disturbing and bleak reports were relayed back, adding to both the tension and workload. The first images were also received of the nuclear attack which had decimated Tokyo, the footage from the drones’ high definition cameras showing the immense impact crater surrounded by nothing but flattened earth where the city once stood. Fire and smoke billowed high into the air, drifting for hundreds of miles as the wind carried it away. There was nothing to show a city once stood. No people, cars or structures. Just smoke, fire and death. There was absolute silence in the war room. Every single one of them stared at the footage, unable to comprehend the level of destruction, the devastating loss of life.

  "Jesus Christ," The President muttered as he removed his glasses and rubbed his temples. "Any idea on the death toll ?"

  "No sir. It's likely to be in the hundreds of thousands at the very least and that’s just in Tokyo. We can expect similar numbers from the other locations. This is about as bad as it can get."

  "What about on our own soil, are we winning?"

  "No sir, I’m afraid we're not."

  "What about air support, navy? Anything?"

  "Mr. President, everything is in disarray. Every hour that passes we lose more men. We're losing this battle sir."

  "How long do we have left?" Carter said, looking away from the horrific drone footage.

  "What do you mean sir?" Bill asked.

  "How long do we have before Joshua is in full control?"

  Bill cleared his throat and smacked his lips together as he tried to find the words.

  "Jesus Bill, just spit it out," Carter snapped.

  "Based on their current rate of expansion and the heavy losses we're enduring, I’d say we have a month, maybe less until he has total control. Our infrastructure is severely compromised."

  "How the hell did this happen? How did we go from being the supreme power in the world to getting our asses handed to us by a group which we have no knowledge of as far as their intentions went?"

  "They were supposed to be ours sir, we never anticipated this could happen."

  "What about fail-safes? Backups? What about our intelligence agencies for Christ’s sake. The CIA. The FBI. God-damn Homeland Security."

  "Homeland is gone, sir. The building was attacked three hours ago. The director, Marcus Atkinson is flying out to the American embassy in India to deal with the crisis in Mumbai and set up a secure base away from the homeland."

  Carter leaned on the table and put his
head in his hands. "So what options do we have left? We must have something we can do." He looked at the blank faces surrounding him on the table, then realised with dismay it was up to him to decide. He was the one in charge, and it was him who would be held responsible if it all went wrong. He was suddenly less critical of the late President Fitzgerald. He sighed and put his glasses back on. "Bill, is there any way we can make contact with the White House?"

  "I believe so. Why?"

  "Do it. I want to talk to this Joshua and see if we can negotiate a truce."

  "Sir, it's our policy not to negotiate with terrorists."

  "Damn it, Bill, do you think I don’t know that? I don’t know what else you expect me to do. You told me we will be wiped out within the month and that we have no options left. If there's a way to save lives by talking to this guy, then I’m prepared to try."

  "What if he doesn’t go for it?"

  "The way I see it, we won’t be any worse off. We have nothing to lose by trying. Get me a secure line and patch it through to my office."

  "Sir, are you sure that's wise?"

  Carter looked at Watson, then at the strained faces of his staff. Finally, he looked at the screen relaying images from the drones, now showing the charred remains of Tokyo.

  "No, I don’t know if it's wise, but it's better than sitting here and doing nothing. Please, Bill. Just get me a line into my office."

  "Yes sir," Watson said.

  Carter stood and made for his office, closing the doors behind him. He took a moment to enjoy the silence, then strode over to his desk.

  Damn you Fitzgerald.

  The venom of the thought was a surprise, and yet rather than go away, it grew stronger.

  You did this on purpose, he said inside his head as he walked around the oak desk and flopped down into the chair. You knew this was all going to shit then died and left me to pick up the pieces, you stupid old son of a bitch.

  Part of it, Carter supposed, was because, for as much as he had been desperate to sit in Fitzgerald’s seat, for as sure as he was he could do a better job and make better decisions, the truth was he was out of his depth. No matter what happened from there on in, he knew his term in office would start under a cloud unless of course the rest of the world imploded under the ruthless arm of Joshua and his destruction of the civilised world, in which case none of it would matter anyway. His brief moment of peace was broken as Bill knocked once and entered the room.

  "Do you have him on the line?"

  "No, Sir. He insisted on video conference. He wants to see you. It's the only way he would agree."

  "Fine, just give me a minute to straighten myself up," Carter said, smoothing down his hair and straightening his tie. There was nothing he could do about the light stubble he had grown, but he supposed personal appearance was the last of his worries. As he readied himself, Bill used the computer in the corner and projected the image onto the flat screen television on the wall of the office showing the navy blue Pentagon screensaver. In the bottom corner, a window cut into the image showing the office and a dishevelled looking President, who despite his best efforts to clean himself up was clearly exhausted.

  "Can he hear me yet?" Carter asked.

  "No sir, he's on hold."

  "Good. Give me a second to get myself together here."

  "No problem sir, I need to finish securing the line."

  Carter waited as Watson adjusted the image on screen and set up the encrypted line. Eventually, he turned to the President.

  "Okay sir, it's ready."

  "Okay," Carter said, his heart pounding despite his calm demeanour. "Patch him in, then leave me to speak to him alone."

  "Yes sir," Watson said, clicking a button on the computer and making his retreat.

  Carter waited and watched as the blue screen faded away and was replaced with a view of his former office in the White House, and his former desk behind which Joshua sat, palms flat on the surface. Unlike Carter, he showed no sign of stress or fatigue. His eyes watched with hungry interest, his mouth hidden behind his beard twisted into an amused smile. His hair was long and hovered just above his shoulders. It wasn’t lost to Carter that the man who claimed to be the father of the new world, bore an eerie resemblance to another individual who was the figurehead of religious iconography all over the world.

  "You look tired, Mr President," Joshua said, his tone more mocking than sincere.

  Carter got straight to the point. "I want to know what we can do to stop this. You made your point. We need to end the killing."

  "My point?" Joshua said, tilting his head.

  "You're superior. You can beat us. Isn’t that what you wanted?"

  Joshua folded his hands on the desk, and Carter realised his words had caused offence.

  "You think this is about power or superiority? Did you not listen to anything I said during my last address?"

  "Look, let’s cut to it here. I want to end this. I’m prepared to do anything to make it happen."

  "I see," Joshua said. Carter waited for him to elaborate, and was met with stony silence.

  "Did you hear me?" Carter said. "We can end this right now if you tell me what you want.” Carter hesitated, having to force the next words out of his mouth. "You can take me if it will end this."

  Joshua tilted his head and laughed.

  "What's so funny?"

  "Mr. President, why would I want you?"

  "What do you mean?" Carter replied, ignoring the chill which made the hairs on his arms stand to attention.

  "You still don’t understand, do you? You're nothing. A second rate figurehead for a society which will soon be forgotten. Nobody cares about you. Most people are preoccupied with their own battle for survival. No, I’m afraid you giving yourself up won’t be enough."

  "Then what will? What can I do to stop this?"

  "Nothing," Joshua said. "Absolutely nothing."

  "Then we'll fight. We'll do whatever it takes to win," Carter blurted, angry and afraid, more the latter than former.

  "I warned you what would happen if you tried to resist," Joshua replied in a near whisper.

  "I don’t see what else you can do that you haven’t already."

  Joshua leaned closer, eyes alive with fire. "I will destroy this Earth. I will burn every crop. Every tree on this planet will fall. I will slaughter everyone who is of no use to me. All apart from you, Mr. President. You will see the world die. When you stand on a mountain of ashes and look out into the sea of the dead which stretches to the horizon, only then will you be allowed to die."

  "Please, there has to be a way to fix this. A compromise."

  "No, there is only this way. You insult me by making contact Mr. President. For that, there will be consequences. I don’t have the time or inclination to waste my precious hours speaking to such worthless creatures."

  "What consequences? What do you mean?"

  "Goodbye, Mr. President."

  "No, wait-"

  Joshua terminated the connection. He sat back in his chair, the one in which the man he was speaking to had never sat. From the back of the room, Genaro stood, arms folded in front of him.

  "What are we to do, Joshua?"

  "Exactly as I said. Fill the slaughter houses. We will feast on the flesh of man as the world burns."

  “We are already ushering people into the slaughterhouses.”

  “Do more. Pack them in, fill them up. Burn everything else.”

  "Are you sure this is what you want?"

  "Do you doubt me?" Joshua said, giving Genaro the same smile he had shown to the President.

  "No, my concern is it might trigger the people into revolt against us. Right now they are confused, they have no outlet and are happy to blame their governments. With this, you would be their target."

  Joshua nodded. It was a good point, and yet one with a simple solution. "Then tell them. As the men maim and burn, tell them this is all the doing of President Carter, and he is the one they should thank for the destructio
n. To ensure this point hits home, I think we need to remind our new President who is in charge."

  "What do you need?"

  "I want to send him a message. One he can't forget."

  II

  Carter paced his office, trying to untangle the melting pot of emotions which surged through him. The passionate speech he had planned to deliver to Joshua had never happened due to his own inability to do his job. And that, he realised was the problem. He was sure Fitzgerald would have made a better job of communicating with Joshua and in dealing with the crisis as a whole. It was a sobering feeling to realise that for the years he spent thinking he was the best man for the job, the truth was proving to be different. He argued with himself that he shouldn’t judge himself on the current situation, and it was so unique, he could be given a little slack. Another voice, the one he was tending to listen to more and more as the days went by, countered that as President, he should be prepared for anything, no matter how extreme, and the very nature of the job required he be able to handle such things.

  The door to his office opened.

  "What is it, Bill?"

  "We need to move you, sir," Watson said.

  "Why?"

  "Another nuke has launched. We don’t know where it's heading. For precaution, we need to move you somewhere safe."

  The President sat in his chair and tossed his glasses on the table.

  "Sir, please..."

  "Relax, Bill. It's not about to hit here."

  "You can't know that sir."

  "I do. He told me. The son of a bitch wants me to see this unfold. He wants to punish me for daring to ask him to stop."

  "We saw the feed," Watson said. "Either way, it could be a double bluff."

  "No, it's not. I know him."

  "Sir-"

  "Damn it Bill I’m staying here!"

  Watson cleared his throat. He had no authority to disobey the President and knew well enough how stubborn a man he was. "Excuse me asking sir, but what should we do?"

  "Wrong question, Bill. The right one would be, what can we do? "