He processed out, marching slowly to meet his commanding officer. As it was the early morning, a dark sky hung over head, still absent of any dawn light. There were no spectators, but the dignity of the ceremony was kept in check, for men of this caliber knew that God and their fallen heroes were still watching. With sharp, rehearsed motions he positioned himself with his rifle. He clicked his heels to indicate his stopping and awaited his approaching commanding officer.
The officer first took Walker’s rifle into his white gloved hands and inspected it from different angles. Muscle memory developed from years of practice made the inspection smooth and direct. After handing it back, the officer looked Walker up and down, inspecting the quality of his uniform for any minor deficiencies.
And then, Walker jerked in his stance during the inspection.
The commanding officer raised his eyes to him in judgment. An intensity beamed down on him as his CO continued to appraise him. Walker knew that he would be chastised for breaking his stance after his shift.
He is going to lay into me for that one.
The CO then inspected the back side of his uniform and after clearing the check, Walker processed with him to the center of the plaza. Orders were shouted, and rifles were adjusted. After the final order the CO marched off the plaza along with the guard, leaving Walker to the black mat. The mat was 21 paces long and Walker walked it back and forth, supplanting the accelerating twitch in his step the best he could. He was marching guard before a large white tomb with the inscription:
“Here Rests In Honored Glory An American Soldier Known But To God.”
Upon reaching the end of the mat, he clicked his pivot but then felt something slip down the back of his throat. And then a thin liquid slid down his nasal cavity and rolled off his upper lip. A bead of blood dripped from his nose and splattered on the black mat before him.
Chapter 16
Tobias’s Laboratory
Northeast Washington, DC
5:45 AM
Xander and the Spartans were talking out the clue under the lone desk lamp on the worktable. Tobias had just finished pinning up a roll of plastic sheets across his warehouse, creating a large, interior isolation unit. Mac ran queries upon queries chasing hunches and gathering any research possibly relevant to the riddle’s meaning. The chatter broke as the van door opened. Xander leaned up from the riddle and turned to see Catherine Mueller, rubbing her eyes as she stepped out of the van.
“Wakey, wakey eggs and bakey.” Seamus greeted her in the most jovial brogue he could muster, trying to put any initial concerns at ease as she acclimated to her surroundings.
“Where the bloody hell am I?” she wondered aloud in an aggravated English accent.
“Afraid I can’t really tell ya that,” Seamus responded, walking up to her and offering a hand to steady her stance.
“Okay, then…” Catherine responded now lucid and annoyed.
“How many fingers and I’m holding up?” he asked, flashing three fingers up.
“Three…”
“How many Roman Numerals am I holding up?” He propped two fingers to her eye’s sight.
“Five…” she chuckled the answered.
“What day is it?”
“September 7th? I think… depends on how long I was out for,” she responded, candidly.
“September 7th is correct,” Seamus completed the quiz, as Ashton walked up to her.
“Hey, I’m Ashton and you must be.”
“I know you…”
“No, you don’t…” Ashton responded, sternly. “Don’t worry though… we’re the good guys.”
Xander stepped forward next, approaching softly, but was still on edge for lack of progress on the clue.
“Dr. Mueller?”
“Wait a second… you saved me… and…” she tried to find the words. “I know you… Templeton?” She asked, confused.
“You can call me Xander…” He held her arm and checked a well-applied bandage that was wrapped around her forearm.
“What happened there?” She was surprised by the bandage.
“They put a tracking bug in you… someone really wanted you under lock and key,” Xander explained.
“Well, I guess I owe you a thank you,” she responded gingerly.
“Don’t mention it… Seamus, fetch her some water, will ya?” At this a figure emerged from the isolation unit. He was in a contamination suit with a helmet sealed over his head. After zipping up the homemade isolation unit, he twisted his helmet off of him.
It was Tobias.
His hair was in disarray and his thick glasses covered his face much like Catherine’s did. They locked eyes immediately. Xander could sense Tobias’s immediate nervousness and then, after turning back to Catherine, he could sense her’s. There was obviously an awkward crush already in their midst.
“Hi…” she said. Tobias struggled to find words as he winced in pain as if his stomach was twisting in knots.
“Hi…” Surprisingly to all the Spartans in the room, Tobias’s words came out clean and smooth without an inkling of a stutter. A locked moment passed as their eyes searched each other’s.
“This is Ashton, Tobias. And this is Seamus,” Xander put a name to the faces around her. Seamus handed her a bottle of water, pulling her focus from Tobias.
“Nice to meet you all…” She still seemed confused.
“We need your help, Catherine. You are the only person who has seen the bacteria that, as you know, has been stolen from the NIH. While it appears, some parties want to shut you up, we want you to help us know what we are up against. That bacterium is in play and at the center of an impending biological attack on American soil… And we need you to help Tobias here in finding a treatment, or better yet a cure,” Xander explained.
“Are you all CIA?” A couple smirks surfaced through the room.
“You could put it that way…” Seamus offered.
“Honestly, I don’t really know any of you, so how do I know you’re not terrorists posing as the good guys wanting my help to kill more people?” Her question was fair. Xander thought for a moment and then fished out of his shirt his necklace. It was a crucifix with Jesus Christ on it.
“Alright then… I guess I’m helping the CIA now or whoever the hell you are…” she shrugged, satisfied with the proof.
“We received our first clue to the target at 4AM and its almost 6AM with no leads,” Seamus updated.
“Clues?”
“Yeah, long story, but in a nutshell a terrorist is providing us clues to his targets across the city. He is our only source of Intel now, so we have to indulge,” Ashton explained. Xander let his fellow Spartans engage in the small talk as his brain was still preoccupied by the thought of the clue.
“Okay then… what is the clue?” Catherine asked plainly, pursuing the natural and logical next step. She surprisingly appeared already comfortable with her surroundings and happy that she could join the fight.
“Let Us Begin Make Your Hypothesis, Twenty-One Steps Before Anonymous, Follow the Dial at Apollo’s Rise, To Discover Where Your First Patient Lies,” Tobias recited. A blank expression entrenched itself upon Catherine’s face.
“Okay then… let’s get on with it,” she stated as she attempted to ascend to her feet.
“Woah, woah easy now… you’ve been through a lot. I think you should rest a bit…” Tobias offered in a caring manner. Catherine scoffed at the idea, shaking her head.
“Don’t be so cheeky, I can handle it… I work around the clock and I’m always awake before sunrise,” she mentioned off-handed.
But Xander stopped – shot by a thought.
Follow the Dial at Apollo’s Rise
“What is it, Xander?” Ashton asked, aware of his changed demeanor.
“Apollo is the god of the sun…”
“So?” The Spartans leaned in for Xander to finish.
“Follow the dial at Apollo’s rise…” Xander continued, leaving the others still in the dark.
>
“When does the sun rise?!” His eyes darted to his watch.
“Around 6:30, why?” Tobias offered.
“Load up now… we need to get to the Washington Monument.”
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
The Vice President awoke in his office chair at Number One Observatory Lane. With little sleep, his eyes slowly focused on the early morning before him. He gathered his surroundings and saw the file labeled “The Ivory Tower Sessions” next to him. He closed it quickly, along with the ghosts from his past and placed it on his desk.
He paced aimlessly through his office and into the hall of his ornate residence. Passing the priceless artwork on the wall, he stopped in front of one oil on canvas. The frame was long and narrow – about five feet by two feet. The collage of vivid colors appeared pale as if lightly applied in splotches. The piece was entitled “Pandora” by Odilion Redon. After a moment of inspecting it up and down, he continued on and shuffled into the kitchen where he found a coffee pot sputtering its last breaths of brew. He poured his coffee black.
Need it strong today…
He sipped the coffee down and felt the warmth fill his abdomen. With a slight shot of life in him, he turned on a thought back to the hall and returned to the painting.
He looked it up and down again, soaking in its cautionary message. It showed the Greek figure of Pandora with her box, containing all of the evils in the world. He cocked his head to his shoulder as the day came into view.
At that moment his cell phone rang. He rubbed his eyes to decipher the caller ID. The name ‘Marty Jacobs’ flashed on the phone. He swiped the call open and brought it to his ear.
“Do you know how early it is, Marty?” He asked through a haze.
“Catherine Mueller has escaped the hospital. Reports from the US Marshals indicate that she was broken out, by professionals. We looked over the surveillance and it’s Project Sparta,” he briefed quickly through the ear speaker.
The Vice President’s eyes lifted up to the painting of Pandora with her box.
The box is opening, isn’t it?
Chapter 17
The National Mall
Northeast Washington, DC
6:30 AM
The Spartans marched east against the cool autumn breeze that swept over the National Mall. The sun painted colorful brushstrokes over the sky as it peaked over the horizon. Xander explained, as they walked together.
“Apollo was the god of the sun. So, when Ezra says, ‘Apollo’s rise’, he is certainly referencing to the sunrise, which should be coming in the next five minutes from the east.” Xander spun to face the Capitol Building, pointing to the source of the auburn hue that had already begun to creep up.
“Follow the dial… We need to follow the sun dial at sunrise.” Catherine noticed where they were heading. Her eyes climbed to the heights of the Washington Monument.
They ascended to the circle of pavement encasing the monument to the fluttering of American flags. The Spartans followed Xander to the monument’s base. Xander turned to the east from whence they came and watched as the auburn turned to red. Looking out over the National Mall, he could see the sunlight slowly cast onto the lawn.
The sun began to inch towards them, they felt its warmth embrace them for a moment as the team was illuminated in the day’s first light.
“It’s beautiful…” Ashton gaped at the sight down the Mall. The Capitol Building glimmered in the foreground of the rising sun.
“So, this isn’t the target?” Seamus asked.
“No. It will point us to the target.”
“How will it point us anywhere, it’s pointing to the sky,” Seamus asked, squinting toward the monument’s pinnacle.
Xander’s eyes traced the sun as it shined past them. He remained locked on the ground and continued to follow its path past the monument.
“It’s shadow…” Xander explained, as he walked the monument’s extending shade.
“It’s pointing us toward the target.” Catherine exhaled as the revelation hit.
They stopped as the monument’s umbrage took shape pointing west with a slight southern angle.
“It’s not directly west… but it’s close…” Xander gazed in the distance, reshaping the landscape of the city before him. He mentally explored a myriad of landmarks beyond the pointed shadow of the Monument.
“What is over there?” Ashton asked, following the ghostly path paved by the monument’s shade.
“There’s the Potomac River and… Arlington,” Seamus recalled, adrift in the clue’s intricacy.
“Twenty-One Steps Before Anonymous…” Xander recited the line from the quatrain.
“The Lincoln Memorial?” Catherine offered.
“No, there’s 145 steps there.” Xander rattled off from his memory. The other’s offered aimless hypotheses, while Xander searched for the answer.
“Nothing is even open! What could the target be?” Seamus crashed head on into a mental dead-end.
“Before anonymous…” Xander marveled as Seamus’s words jarred a hypothesis. The tone attracted the others, who sensed a lead.
“What place is always open, even at this time? A place that represents the anonymous…” He led them along his logical path. Ashton understood immediately and dropped her mouth at the discovery.
“It’s the Tomb of the Unknown Soldier,” Ashton answered. But Xander was already on his way to the van.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Seamus slammed on the brakes bringing the van to a screeching halt on the road alongside Arlington National Cemetery. A beat later – Xander, Axle and Ashton unloaded from the van, sweeping the area with assault weapons trained on their sights. Catherine hopped out of the truck behind them with a makeshift pack of containment gear. They all wore respirators over the bottom half of their face as a precaution for anything they might encounter.
They bolted through the white grave markers that lined the rolling hills of the cemetery. Their firearms were cocked in their shoulders, searching for any terrorist on the acreage. They stayed low and quick, checking all sides of the large perimeter as they hiked up the cemetery slope toward the tomb. Catherine tried to keep up but Xander pushed forward relentlessly.
There were no mourners within sight, just the white headstones undulating over the grassy dunes. The Spartans cut through the years of memorials until they climbed the steps to the tomb. They became alert probing the scene for anything out of the ordinary. And then they heard shouting ensue behind them. A lone sentinel guard emerged from the training facility located below the tomb, firearm drawn.
“Put down your weapons!” The sentinel commanding officer barked at them. Xander did not listen as he spotted Lieutenant Walker in the small green shack next to the tomb. His face drenched with flowing blood – Xander could not make out his chin or lips. His twitching had grown violent and Xander noticed that the Lieutenant had a strange raving about him, while his eyes remained seemingly catatonic.
Axle and the guard began yelling at each other. The standoff began escalating quickly – their grips tightening on their firearms – their pulse thumping. Catherine arrived at the tomb, out of breath. The guard took notice and found his six compromised, pushing him more off kilter. She held up her hands and approached carefully. The yelling stopped, and Catherine began a more delicate approach than that of Axle’s.
“Listen sir, your guard is very, very ill. He is caring a deadly disease that could infect you and anyone else he is around… you must keep your distance,” Catherine explained calmly. The CO considered her words for a moment and then holstered his weapon. Then he climbed the stairs, stopping dead at the horrifying sight of Lieutenant Walker.
“We must take him with us, if he has any chance of living,” Xander shouted down the stairs of the tomb.
“Is he going to be okay?” The CO asked lost in the scene. Ashton flashed him a grave look that provided the answer he did not want to hear.
And then as if acting purely on habit and instinct, he began tugging at his
formals.
“The tomb cannot go unguarded!” His uniform was loose, wrinkled and off-centered, but he began primping his appearance the best that he could. Formalities were of secondary importance as duty called.
In the green shack next to the tomb, Walker began rocking back and forth in his chair. His hands covered his ears as if trying to silence thoughts or calm a raging migraine.
“My head! It hurts so bad! What is happening to me?” the bloodied man gurgled a terrifying blood-filled plea.
“Listen to me! You have been infected by some deadly bacteria. We are going to have to bring you in,” Xander ordered as the CO took his place on the black mat in his colleague’s stead.
It was too late.
“Make it stop! Make it stop!!” Walker screamed. It was the sound of tortured soul unable to barricade itself from attack. Xander approached, double checking his gloves on the way. But then the disease took full possession of Walker. He began seizing out of the chair onto the bloody ground.
“No!” Xander reached out, but Walker fell rigid and then began shaking uncontrollably. He convulsed over himself as if fighting for breath and freedom. The Spartans knew there was nothing they could do as they watched the man writhe into ruin.
After a long horror, Walker’s eyes froze, settling up and into his skull. His body stopped, along with his heart.
And then he was still.
Chapter 18
The Compound
6:45 AM
Fiona hung up the phone after just receiving the update from the field. She turned back to Ezra’s cell, growing cold and impatient. Her eyes locked on him, as she walked toward him, only stopping an inch from the glass. Seated on the lone bench inside the cube, Ezra’s head was down, again fully immersed in deep meditation. A lone finger came up to the glass and tapped on it. The terrorist lifted his head to meet his interrogator.
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