by A. G. Riddle
“What are you talking about?”
“A new kind of conflict.” North worked his laptop, and a series of videos appeared on the screen. Armed forces in black with no insignia assaulted a series of industrial buildings and warehouses. Paul didn’t recognize the locations. They weren’t army bases.
“These are food depots,” North said. “They have been under light guard since Orchid governments nationalized the food supply in the opening days of the outbreak. This last video is of the Archer Daniel Midland facility in Decatur, Illinois. Immari militia units seized it and a dozen other major food processing plants a week ago.”
“They intend to starve us?”
“That’s only a piece of their plan.”
“You can’t retake them?”
“Of course we can. But they’ll destroy them if we attack. That puts us in a tough spot. We can’t rebuild the food processing plants fast enough.”
“Can you get people to process the food?”
“We’ve looked at that. That’s not why you’re here.”
“Why am I here?”
“I’m going to lay out all the pieces, Paul. Let you make an informed decision.”
Decision about what? Paul wondered.
North worked the keyboard again. A scan of a crumpled document appeared. “This is an Immari manifesto that’s been circulating. It predicts a coming collapse of humanity. A day of reckoning when a cataclysm will occur. It calls for all those who wish to see the human race survive to rally behind the Immari cause. It lays out a strategy. The first step is the seizure of the food supply—everything from large food processing plants to farms. Second: the power grid.”
Paul began to ask, but North interrupted. “They’ve taken control of eighty percent of our coal reserves.”
“Coal?”
“It still produces over forty percent of American power. Without the coal, the power plants will go dark soon. Nuclear and hydro-electric plants will be online, but taking the coal facilities out will do us in.”
Paul nodded. There had to be some viral or biological component. Power and food… he wasn’t here for that. “Is there a third step in the manifesto?”
“Wait. The Immari promise that those loyal to their call will receive help—an attack on a scale the world has never seen. They promise the Orchid Alliance will be crushed in a single day and night of destruction.”
“A nuclear attack?”
“We don’t think so. Those locations are well-guarded. And it’s too obvious. It’s something outside the box. We have one clue. The satellites. Last night, we lost contact with every satellite controlled by the Orchid Alliance as well as the International Space Station. Private satellites are unresponsive as well. The first satellites entered the atmosphere this morning. The last of them will burn up and crash to the earth by nightfall.”
“Someone shot them down?”
“No. They were hacked. A very sophisticated virus got into the control software. We’re blind. The only reason to do that is if they’re ready to attack. The cataclysm, the Immari attack, whatever it is, begins soon.”
“You think it might be biological? Another outbreak?”
“It’s possible,” North said. “In truth, we have no idea. The president wants to be ready for anything.”
One of North’s staff members entered the conference room. “Sir, we need you.”
North left Paul alone to contemplate what he had seen. If the attack were biological, Paul would be the logical choice to lead the global response. He began mentally preparing himself. Scenarios flashed through his mind. His thoughts went to Natalie and Matthew. He would transfer them to Continuity—
The door opened, and North walked in slowly. “It’s started.”
CHAPTER 7
CDC Headquarters
Atlanta, Georgia
Walking the halls of Continuity was bizarre for Paul. In this section of the CDC, he and the Continuity staff had managed a global pandemic that lasted eighty-one days and claimed the lives of almost two billion people. Eighty-one days of sleeping on the couch in his office, drinking coffee endlessly, shouting matches, breakdowns, and one final breakthrough.
The faces walking the halls were different now: soldiers, DOD staff, and others Paul couldn’t identify.
Secretary of Defense North was waiting for him in the main Continuity situation room. The glass doors parted and closed behind Paul, and the two men were alone. The screens that covered the far wall showed the same display they had when Paul had walked out fourteen days ago: casualty statistics from Orchid Districts around the world. They ranged from twenty to forty percent. All except one: Malta. Dr. Warner and her team had found the last piece of the cure there. It glowed green, the text “0% Casualty Rate” floating beside it.
North took a seat at one of the rolling tables. “One of my teams just picked up Natalie and your nephew, Paul. They’ll be here soon.”
“Thank you. I’ve contacted the members of my staff—what’s left. Once they’re here, I’ll start making calls to my foreign counterparts.”
“Excellent. I know they’re having similar conversations right now. So, first thing’s first. We need to get your root-level access code to the Continuity control program.”
Paul squinted. “My access code?”
North took out a pen and nodded casually. “Uh huh.”
“Why?”
“I was told only your codes could push a new therapy out to the Orchid implants.”
“That’s true,” Paul said, alarm bells ringing in his mind.
“It’s for security, Paul. You’re a point of failure. If you die, those codes are lost with you—and for all intents and purposes, Continuity with it. The whole system is worthless if we can’t administer a new therapy. We need redundancy.”
“We have redundancy. Two people have the access codes: someone on the team—someone I select—and me. No one knows that person’s identity. For security purposes. Imagine if the Immari were to learn the Continuity access codes. They could wipe us out in hours.”
“And who is that other person?”
Paul rose and paced away from North, whose expression had now changed. The other code keeper was dead. He had died with many of the other staff in the final hours of the plague. Paul had intended to select a new code keeper when the remaining staff arrived, but now he wasn’t so sure. “That’s all I can say regarding the code. But you have my word that we won’t lose access to Continuity.”
North stood as well. “We never finished our conversation at the Orchid District. We’re officially at war. We’re working on ways to communicate with our naval fleets, but they have standing orders to launch an attack if they lose contact with the Pentagon for an extended period of time. The bombs should begin falling on the Immari central headquarters in Antarctica soon. They’ve evacuated their facilities in Cape Town, Buenos Aires, and others, but they will be hunted. Fighting the Immari head-on isn’t what we’re worried about. It’s the coming war here at home. We estimate Immari strength here in the US at forty thousand, maybe a little more, possibly less. It was enough to take our food chain and cripple the power grid, but they can’t do much else.”
“Exactly.”
“I read your file, Paul. You’re a smart guy. A good scientist. I was a good soldier. It took me years to get up to speed on politics. It’s a different game. But you know that. You were upper management here at CDC. You’ve played the game. You can see where this is going.”
“Obviously I’m not as smart as you think.”
“They cut the power and food to the Orchid Districts to make us empty them. When we do, the Immari will start converting the tired, hungry masses that flow out. Their message will appeal to the millions of people we release. We’ll be fighting a propaganda war. Their ideology against ours. We aren’t fighting the Immari Army. We’re fighting their message. It boils down to the elimination of the welfare state. The Immari want a global state built with people who can fend for themselves, peo
ple who don’t rely on the government to live. A lot of people like that idea. They don’t want to go back to the way things were. And there’s the simple reality from our end: we can’t fend off the militia and care for those too weak to fight anyway. The US has about a ten-day supply of insulin left. Antibiotics are practically gone; we only use them in extreme cases now. We’ve been burning the dead outside the Orchid Districts, but we can’t keep up. With the close quarters, a new antibiotic-resistant superbug is likely already loose in an Orchid District somewhere.”
“We can handle superbugs. That’s why Continuity exists.”
“It’s only a fraction of what we face. Even without the Immari threat, we’re looking at a humanitarian crisis on a global scale. We have to rebuild the world, and we’ve got too many mouths to feed. We have an opportunity. We can eliminate some of our own who we can’t care for and at the same time, convince the Immari sympathizers not to go over. It’s our only play. Continuity and the Orchid implants are the key. We’ve got to build an army of our own—from the strong within our ranks.”
Paul swallowed. “I… need some time to think—”
“Time is one thing we don’t have, Paul. I need those codes. I’ll remind you that I have Natalie and your nephew.”
Paul felt himself involuntarily step back. “I… I want to know the plan.”
“The codes.” North glanced at the soldiers outside the glass doors.
Paul took it as a threat. He took a seat at the table and spoke softly. “I assume you’ve been trying to crack the codes?”
“For over a week now. NSA says they could be in within a few days, but when the satellites went down, we decided to call you. We’d really like to get those codes the easy way.”
Paul nodded. He knew what the hard way would be. He tried to push the idea of being tortured out of his mind and focus on what would happen if he turned over the codes. He saw two possibilities. One: North was an Immari agent and he would use the codes to kill countless people. Two: America and the Orchid allies were about to make the greatest mistake in human history. And they were possibly going to frame Paul for it. He needed to know more. He needed time to form a plan. “Okay. Look, I’ve been at home for two weeks. I didn’t know any of this was going on. I agree that our back is against the wall. I will turn over the codes, but you should know that the Continuity program has multiple levels of security, including trap doors and protocols that ensure Continuity staff are the only ones who can send new therapies to the implants each Orchid District resident has. You need me. I now understand the threat we’re facing. All I ask is that you make me part of the solution.”
North took a seat and pulled a keyboard close to him. “Now we’re getting somewhere.” The screen changed to show a series of statistics. Paul recognized some of them.
“You’ve done a physical—”
“A short one, yes. We’ve done a large-scale inventory of the entire human race—everyone under the Orchid flag.”
“To what end?”
“There are two lists here. Those we can save—the ones fit to fight or contribute. And those who aren’t.”
“I see.”
“We need to use the Euthanasia Protocol on the unfit list, and we need to do it now.”
“People won’t stand for this. You’ll have riots—”
“We intend to blame the Immari. They’ve taken the food and power. This isn’t a stretch. If they could take Continuity, this is exactly what they would do: euthanize the weak. The death of millions will energize the survivors to stand against the Immari threat. And it would take away the Immari selling point: eliminating the welfare state. With the weak gone, we can offer everything they can. The world the Immari sympathizers want would already be here.” North moved closer to Paul. “With a few keystrokes, we can win this war before it begins, before the cataclysm. Now I need your answer.”
Paul glanced out the glass doors. His staff was arriving, but the guards were directing them away. There was no way out of this room.
“I understand,” Paul said.
“Good.” North motioned to the guard, and a skinny young man carrying a laptop entered. “This young man has been working on the Continuity database. He’s going to follow along with you, Paul. He’ll be watching and taking notes, including your access code. For redundancy, of course.”
“Of course.”
Paul began typing on the keyboard while his new “assistant” got set up.
A few minutes later, Paul opened the main Continuity control program and began walking him through it. “The Euthanasia Protocol is actually a pre-programmed therapy…”
Fifteen minutes later, Paul entered his final authorization code and the main screen began blinking:
Euthanasia Protocol Transmitted to Population Subset
Paul stood and said, “I’d like to be alone in my office now.”
“Sure, Paul.” North addressed one of the soldiers. “Escort Dr. Brenner to his office. Remove his computer and phone and see that he has any food and drink he requests.”
In his office, Paul sat on the couch and stared at the floor. He had never felt worse in his life.
CHAPTER 8
CDC Headquarters
Atlanta, Georgia
Paul Brenner checked his watch for the hundredth time, then got up from the couch and paced to the window. The three rings of military vehicles barricading the CDC tower sat silently, some of the soldiers standing and smoking, most sitting in their Humvees or slumped against the sandbags.
Shouts erupted in the reception area outside his office. The door handle rattled then shook as someone began pounding on the solid wood door.
“Unlock this door, Brenner!” North’s voice was hoarse but strong enough to strike fear into Paul.
He’s alive. Paul checked his watch again.
“Three seconds, Brenner! Or we open this door without you.”
Paul froze.
Behind the door, he heard something that amounted to “aim down, we need him alive.” Shots sprayed splinters into the room, and the door swung open.
Terrance North staggered in, clutching his chest. “You tried to kill me.”
“You should get to the infirmary—”
“Don’t play games, Paul.” North jerked his head to the guards. “Take him.”
Guards seized Paul’s arms and dragged him down the hall.
In the Continuity situation room, the young computer programmer silently watched North throw Paul against the wall and spit words slowly in his face. “You stop this now, or I swear I’ll have these soldiers shoot you.”
Paul couldn’t believe the man could still stand. North’s cardiovascular health had kept him alive far longer than Paul had anticipated. His mind grasped for any diversion that might buy time.
In his peripheral vision, he saw Natalie enter the hall with Matthew. He tried to look away, but it was too late—North had seen them.
“I’ll execute the boy first. You can watch.” He gasped for breath. He released Paul and collapsed onto the table, panting now. “Major—”
Paul swallowed and spoke to the three soldiers. “Stop. Major, I believe you swore to defend this country against enemies foreign and domestic. That’s all I’ve done. Thirty minutes ago, the Secretary forced me to use Continuity to execute millions of our own citizens.”
“He’s lying!”
“He’s not,” the skinny programmer said. “North gave me the same orders. I wouldn’t do it either. I cracked the access codes days ago. I’ve been lying about it.”
North shook his head and stared at Paul with disgust. “You’re a fool. You’ve killed us all. When the Immari come, they’ll wipe us out.”
The soldiers slowly lowered their rifles. Paul exhaled as he watched Terrance North convulse and fall to the floor, taking his last breaths. It was the first life Paul Brenner had ever taken, and he hoped it would be his last.
Paul was rubbing his temples, staring out the window, when the shattered door to his offi
ce creaked open.
Natalie came in and stood beside him for a moment, gazing at the rings of military outside the building. Finally, she said, “How can I help?”
“We’re in a tough spot. It depends on what the White House does next. The Marines inside Continuity will follow Major Thomas, who’s supporting me for now, but if the Administration orders a full assault on the building, we won’t last long.”
“So…”
“We need to get Matthew out of here. I don’t want you here either.”
“How? Where can we go?”
“The Orchid Districts won’t be safe. Or the cities. Probably not the roads for that matter. My grandmother has a cabin in the mountains of North Carolina.” He handed her a map with highlighted directions. “Take Matthew and a few Marines and get there as quickly as you can. The stock room is still pretty full here. Take food and water—as much as you can pack into a Humvee and get out before the next shoe drops.”
“What about—”
“There’s a call for you, sir.” Susan, Paul’s secretary, was leaning in the door frame.
Paul hesitated. Was it “the call”—the surrender or face the firing squad call? “Is it…”
“It’s your ex-wife.”
His nervousness turned to surprise.
Natalie’s face was even more surprised.
Paul raised a finger. “Yes, my ex-wife is alive and well, and I haven’t talked to her in years.” He turned to Susan. “Tell her I can’t talk—”
“She says it’s important. She sounds scared, Paul.”
Paul walked into the outer office and picked up the phone. He hesitated, not sure how to start. He settled on, “Brenner.” It came out harsher than he intended.
“Hi, it’s, um, Mary, I’m… I’m sorry to call—”
“Yeah, Mary, it’s… a really bad time.”
“I found something, Paul. A signal on the radio telescope. It’s organized. A code of some type.”
“What kind of code?”
When the conversation was over, Paul hung up the phone and glanced out the window at the soldiers waiting outside the building. He needed to get out of Atlanta, possibly the country, and if the code was real, it could change the entire equation. It had to be connected to the Atlantis conspiracy, though Paul wasn’t sure how. The timing, it arriving just as the plague had been cured couldn’t be a coincidence. He addressed the Marine standing in his office. “Major, assuming we can get out of here, can you get me a plane?”