And Hell Followed

by Mark Scott

  Chapter Six

  Martin left the Coroner's office and drove to the offices of the Biscayne Sun. But Martin did not take the most direct route. Instead he wove his way through the back streets constantly glancing into his rear view mirror in order to reassure himself that he was not being followed. Paranoia had a firm grip on Bruce Martin.

  Within the safe confines of his office building Martin negotiated the maze of homogenous cubicles. He was greeted with smiles of recognition. Martin was one of those people is liked but who is not exceedingly popular. This was not because of any outward contempt for his coworkers but rather a subtle introversion that tended to insulate him from others. Bruce Martin was good looking, intelligent and when he chose, he could be quite engaging. But Martin kept the world at an arm's length. He was painfully insecure and there were valid reasons for his insecurities. Rather than addressing his shortcomings, however, Martin chose to build walls. His condo was his fortress. His books and music were his armor and shield against the world. His conceit and intelligence were weapons to be drawn if necessary. Most people, though, were somewhat cognizant of Martin's pain and were, therefore, mostly kind to Bruce Martin.

  Martin walked into Dave's office. Dave looked up from a scattering of papers that cluttered his desk. "Oh hi Bruce, how's it going?" said Dave without really looking up at him.

  "Dave, I think I'm onto something really big with this flu"

  The excitement in Bruce's voice was cause for Dave to stop what he was doing and look up at Martin. He leaned back in his chair and began to rock slowly, eyeing Martin all the while.

  "Well, I've been to the hospital and the morgue, Dave this thing is exploding out there, hundreds getting sick and half of them are dying! Listen Dave...I think I know what this thing might be and how it got here!"

  "O.K Bruce, I'll bite...what is it? The Bird Flu?" said Dave with a hint of skepticism in his voice

  "No! Have you ever heard of the Spanish Flu?"

  "Can't say as I have."

  "Well in nineteen eighteen this flu killed over twenty million people. I was researching this thing and they said that with the advent of jet travel and huge population centers that this bug could easily wipe out one hundred million!"

  "Bruce...take it down a notch...who are they? This smacks of alarmist to me."

  "They are the CDC and the World Health Organization."

  "And they confirmed this to be the Spanish Flu?"

  Martin's mind flashed to the mysterious phone call from his CDC source. Dave was already skeptical. If Martin told him that he believed that his CDC source was an anonymous phone call that ended with some sort of scuffle, he would never get to press.

  "... yea, well, uhm...an unnamed source...kind of."

  "No way! Are you kidding? You want me to run a story that some sort of modern plague is upon us and based on an anonymous source? C'mon are you nuts? C'mon Bruce you're a far better journalist than that. You're being lazy. Burn some shoe leather and get back with me in a couple of days with a solid story."

  "Dave, if we don't get the word out thousands could die from this thing in just a week or two, and there's more! This thing came into the country in cocaine. I saw it first hand on the Courageous!"

  Dave leaned back in his chair and laughed. "That's rich, that's really rich. Tell ya what Bruce, I'll run this story, conditionally. No anonymous sources and no speculation on what this thing is without multiple sources confirming it. And you had better show me tons of documentation on the cocaine angle. Capeche?"

  Martin nodded sullenly and wandered out of Dave's office, mumbling to himself as he weaved blindly through the labyrinth of office cubicles. Martin heard his name whispered as he passed a cubicle. Martin stopped and stepped back to see who had called him. Ray Matthews was the outdoor writer. Martin greeted him, "Hi Ray, what's up?"

  "I heard your conversation with Dave. It's no secret how I feel about that candy assed boot licker...so I'm gonna help ya out. That bug you were talking about is scary stuff, huh? Well I know this guy who works with an intelligence group up at McDill. He comes down here every now and then for some Bone fishin' at Islamorada. Anyhow, this guy would know who to connect you with to shed some light on what you're lookin' for...interested?"

  "Sure...that would be great."

  "O.K. then I'll give him a call. I'll call ya on your company cell to let ya know when he can talk with ya."

  "Sounds good."

  The next day Martin found himself standing outside of a large three storied building on McDill Air Force base. Martin entered through a pair of heavy glass doors and found his way to the elevator. He exited on the third floor and discovered it to be deserted. Martin glanced at the back of the spiral notebook he carried to find the room number that he had written down. As he walked down the long hall his footsteps echoed. Martin walked slowly along reading the room numbers as he went. He found the room where his meeting was to take place. He pulled on the door but it was locked. He stepped back to double check the room number when he noticed a framed poster on the wall. It was John F. Kennedy's inaugural address;

  "The world is very different now. For man holds in his mortal hands the power to abolish all forms of human poverty and all forms of human life. And yet the same revolutionary beliefs for which our forebears fought are still at issue around the globe-the belief that the rights of man come, not from the generosity of the state, but from the hand of God.

  We dare not forget today that we are the heirs of that first revolution. Let the word go forth from this time and place, to friend and foe alike, that the torch has been passed to a new generation of Americans...

  Let every nation know, whether it wishes us well or ill, that we shall pay any price, bear any burden, meet any hardship, support any friend, oppose any foe in order to assure the survival and the success of liberty."

  Martin was so immersed in the words he was reading that he didn't notice that someone had walked up to him. He was startled by a voice from behind him.

  "That speech reflects the attitude of this nation back when we had real leaders, not just self-serving politicians."

  Turning around, Martin saw a tall man with closely cropped salt and pepper hair. He produced a broad, friendly smile and eyes that revealed a strong and self-assured personality.

  "Bruce Martin?" the man asked.

  "Yes." responded Martin.

  "Tom Davis, pleased to meet you. I'm a colonel in Army intelligence, our mutual acquaintance Ray says that you have some very interesting and sensitive information that you wanted to run past me."

  "Yes I do, I have come across a possible biological att..."

  The Colonel cut Martin off in mid speech by raising his hand to signal him to be silent. "I have some very interesting items that I think will blow you away. I have taken the liberty of inviting some others, experts in the subjects that we will discuss...I trust that's OK." The Colonel gestured towards an open door and he and Martin stepped through it into a large conference room. A long wooden table lined with chairs sat in the middle of the room. Four men sat on the far side of the table. Tucked into a far corner was a cluster of computers with two young men and a young woman typing furiously. The Colonel shut the door behind them. Martin noticed that it had a thick layer of foam insulation on its backside. Looking around the room Martin noticed that the entire room was lined with the same material. The Colonel became cognizant of Martin's observation. "This is a secured conference room...soundproof." With that the Colonel nodded to one of the young men in the back of the room. He stood and walked up to Martin with an electronic device that resembled an oversized tuning fork. "All clear sir." said the young man. The Colonel nodded approvingly. Martin had been scanned for bugs.

  The Colonel introduced the room's occupants to Martin by first name only. Then he gestured for Martin to take a seat. The Colonel sat down beside him and said to , "Why don't you share with us what you have discovered."

  "O.K." said Martin with some hesitation. "It's going to proba
bly seem incredible." warned Martin.

  "Not half as incredible as what we have to share with you!" laughed the Colonel.

  Martin became even more uneasy, wondering what the Colonel meant by that statement. "Well", Martin began again, "I have uncovered what I belief to be a biological attack on us by Islamic terrorist." Martin recited the entire story and when he finished he sat there looking at the eight faces, desperately searching them for an indication of what they were thinking. Did they believe him?

  The Colonel spoke, "Believe it or not Mister Martin we have documented the very same events that are occurring in Miami in several other cities. The bug is indeed the nineteen eighteen influenza and it has all been traced back to cocaine. But what is of even greater concern is the fact that the government is attempting to cover up the source. They are preparing to announce that it is H5N1, the Bird Flu, brought here by migratory birds. This is why your source at the CDC and others have been muzzled. The government has released the hounds."

  "Why would they do that?"

  "Because they have failed to protect the nation yet again! The policies of the President and his lapdogs on the hill have placed all of the citizens of this country in imminent danger. They are afraid of what the consequences may be, not for you or me, but for themselves. How do you think people will react when they discover that millions will die and the nation itself may succumb because of malfeasance in Washington? Rich, why don't you share with Mister Martin the true scale of this attack."

  A man of small stature rose from his seat across the table. "Over the last twelve months or so we began to pick up chatter between Pakistan and China, the Guangdong province of China to be specific."

  "That is where most of the influenza viruses come from isn't it?" asked Martin.

  "Well, basically, yes and we believe that they have recovered the Spanish Influenza virus, somewhere in Guangdong. We then noticed a shift in the chatter from Pakistan and China to Pakistan and Peru, specifically with the remnants of a terrorist group called The Shining Path. Are you familiar with this organization?" inquired Rich.

  "Yes, they are Maoist who attempted to overthrow the Peruvian government. But I thought they were destroyed."

  "There are still hardcore elements there; they have just faded into the jungle, biding their time if you will. The activity then shifted yet again to chatter between the Peru and some Narco terrorist in Colombia. Then the same pattern began between Columbia and Port au Prince, Haiti. Here is what we believed happened. First of all the participants in this plot are all firmly anti-American. While they differ greatly in philosophies they all share that fervent hatred of the U.S. We believe that Islamic terror organizations operating in Northern Pakistan either heard of the virus or actively sought the virus in China. Once they had it they devised a plan of delivery. Their plan was ingenious. The cocaine is snorted directly into the sinuses, right where the bug needs to be. The secretive nature of the drug culture would allow the bug to spread. By the time anybody discovered it, it would be too late. But they don't grow Coca in Pakistan, so they made contact with The Shining Path, perhaps somewhat duping them by playing up the Chinese connection. So the Path provide the Coke, but they are too small and too far removed from the U.S. to get their Coke in, so they turned to the Columbians for the logistics. The staging area was Haiti. We believe the pig farm that you heard about down there is actually a virus farm. They are actually growing the virus in the pigs."

  "So it's like a global conspiracy against the U.S.? That's really scary! And you're telling me that the government isn't doing anything about it?" asked Martin with more than a hint of panic in the inflection of his voice.

  "Why don't they protect our borders? We have been sold out by our own government. The congress sits on their collective fat asses, and getting fatter all the while!" said the Colonel with such anger and volume that Martin was taken aback. "People like you Mister Martin, the press, have their own agenda; none of it is in the country's best interest. In fact, they are the propagandist for the corruption in D.C. But the real problem lies in the judiciary! The arrogant bastards have allowed criminals to run amuck, literally kicking in our doors and raping and murdering innocent people. They have taken away our rights in small increments and perverted the constitution. They legislate from the bench. They have extended their power beyond their authority as provided by the constitution. Do you know what the first amendment says Mister Martin?" railed the Colonel.

  "Uhm...it concerns the separation of church and state..." Martin responded meekly.

  "Allow me to read it to you Mister Martin, 'Congress shall make no law respecting an establishment of religion. 'Now, tell me sir where it says that there shall be no observation of religion by government? You cannot tell me because it doesn't say that. It merely states that congress shall not pass a law dictating that one religion shall become the religion of the state. The courts today are practicing just what this amendment was designed to prevent...you are prohibited in many instances from practicing your religion! This is where another element in this wholesale attack on American values comes from...the public schools! From elementary up through college....there is a dumbing up of the citizens of this country! For instance, most people don't know that the Declaration of Independence charges us to move against a government that is unresponsive to the people. Let me read you this:' But a long train of abuses and usurpations pursuing invariably the same object evinces a design to reduce then under absolute despotism it is their right, is their duty to throw off such government.'"

  Martin interrupted, "Are you telling me that there is some kind of vast conspiracy in the government to turn us all into some kind of dumb worker bees...some sort of zombies?"

  The Colonel looked at Martin steadily as he spoke, "Mister Martin, I hear the sarcasm in your voice. You represent just what I was talking about. You are a card carrying journalist to be sure! Disagree with you and lookout! People only have rights as long as they fit into your idea of what should be. This conspiracy as you called it is not the kind where a group sits down and says that we will do this in order to achieve this. No...it's much more insidious than that. It is the leadership slowly, greedily securing their power."

  The Colonel nodded to an elderly man who had been sitting mutely at the far end of the table. The old man rose slowly, steadying himself with a hand on the table. He straightened himself up and swept a lock of snow white hair from his forehead. He cleared his throat and then he spoke.

  "Over a hundred years ago a group of people, or more precisely a class of people, began to consolidate power. Today they populate the Senate and to a lesser degree the House, but more importantly they sit on the high courts and in the oval office. This ruling class comes from one of two places, either a military academy or an Ivy League college, predominately Harvard and Yale."

  Martin challenged the old man, "I know that Reagan didn't come from any of those places."

  "That is correct; in fact a handful of presidents did not come from this class. Two, however, entered the Presidency after the deaths of the elected President that was from that class, Roosevelt and Kennedy. Speaking of Kennedy, a rift began between two opposing forces within this ruling class. One group of these elites, that's what I call them, the elites, because that's how they view themselves. Anyhow one group of the elites was old school, ya know freewheeling markets, and they operated under a set of ethics. But the other group, a younger more progressive group embraced greed openly and sided with an emerging global elite movement. This younger group opened previously controlled markets to foreign interest and allowed large corporations to become international mega corporations. They began sending manufacturing jobs abroad, doing irrevocable damage to the American middle class, but increasing their bank accounts by incredible amounts of cash"

  "Back in the sixties and early seventies the progressives openly challenged the old guard whom they termed the "establishment." But the old guard still controlled the power; they still controlled the institutions of g
overnment, and called the shots socially. Kennedy was a progressive. He moved too quickly and was not cognizant of the threat that he represented to the status quo. He was eliminated and replaced by a traditionalist, albeit Johnson was not an elite. As a matter of fact the previous President warned the nation of the emerging new unholy alliance between the government and industry. At that time it was primarily the military industrial complex but today it has greatly expanded to include banks and the global mega corporations. Mister Martin is you familiar with Eisenhower's farewell address?"

  "Can't say as I am."

  "Here read this...it's quite long, here is the meat of the relevant part" said the old man as he ran a highlighter over a printed page before he slid it across the table for Martin to read.

  "In the councils of government we must guard against the acquisition of unwarranted influence, whether sought or unsought by the military industrial complex. The potential for the disastrous rise of misplaced power exists and will persist.

  We must never let the weight of this combination endanger our liberties or democratic processes. We should take nothing for granted. Only an alert and knowledgeable citizenry can compel the proper meshing of the huge industrial and military machinery of defense with our peaceful methods and goals, so that security and liberty may prosper together."

  Martin raised his eyes from the speech. "That's really interesting, scary, really." The old man nodded his concurrence. "This warning was almost prophetic. It's like the Colonel said it has expanded way beyond just the military industrial complex. But things are occurring as we speak that will hopefully correct the situation, if it's not too late."

  "And what would that be?" asked Martin.

  Martin noticed that the Colonel exchanged nervous glances with the others in the room. The man called Rich leaned across the table and spoke in a calm voice. "Mister Martin, may I call you Bruce?"

  "Yes, of course."

  "Great...Bruce, there are still great leaders in the country, learned and brave patriots who believe that the nation has been taken by a sort of silent coup. The current culture, both political and social is like a cancer upon the nation. Many ordinary people, in fact most Americans feel this way, including a vast majority of the military. Well, Bruce, the time has come to take our nation back from these people who would loot and destroy it."

  "A coup? Are you telling me a revolution is planned? That's crazy! It'll never happen!"

  Rich continued in the calmest of manner, "Crazy? Can't happen? Like a biological attack that will wipe out a third of our population? Bruce, it is already happening."

  "It is not a revolution Mister Martin! The government revolted against us! We are merely taking back what was given us by the Constitution. We call it a retrolution. We are going back to what is ours."

  "No way! I'm outta here you guys are nuts!" said Martin rising to his feet.

  "Sit down Bruce and listen to what is being said, it may save your life.", said the Colonel sternly.

  Martin felt a jolt of fear leap through his chest. How could they let him walk out of there now? Rich continued to speak, "The current government was planning to use this outbreak to declare martial law. That would assure that they stay in power, those elected this past November would not assume power. But many have already become aware of the impending face off...the revolution as you put it. Anyway, many congressman and senators have already taken their winter vacations in France and other places....they are afraid and they are running. Many are going to be held responsible for their actions, especially the judiciary. I would not want to be a judge or lawyer...."

  "Nor a journalist." said the Colonel. "Those journalists, who have fervently worked to undermine the goals of the United States by publishing false information, are going to be held accountable. Those that published classified information will be brought up on charges as well. Freedom of speech carries a certain amount of responsibility. Mister Martin, the next several months are going to be very trying, not just for this nation but for individuals as well. People are going to have to decide where they stand and just how much they are willing to sacrifice for their morals. Many will be called upon to make the ultimate sacrifice."

  "Times are going to be hard for the world too Mister Martin. Mexico is going to be forced to deal with their corruption and poverty after we round up all those in this nation illegally and close our borders. All of those nations receiving aid will have to get along without it. America will take care of her own. We are not the police of the world. We are not the bank of the world. We are a sovereign nation, we are not a resource to be abused by the rest of the world" said Rich.

  "Well Mister Martin? What do you think? You have the opportunity of a lifetime...of a thousand lifetimes. You are sitting on the front row of history. You are the only journalist who knows the story, the whole story. What'd ya say Mister Martin are ya up to it? Because if you are we will stay in touch...keep you pointed in the right direction."

  Martin sensed that these people were looking for an avenue to reach the people. He was definitely interested, for Martin always believed that he was destined for greatness. But he was also afraid. Just what he was afraid of he could not immediately define. But in order to get out of this place with his life he figured that he had better accept the offer...he could always evade them once he was out of there.

  "Yeah...but the problem is going to be getting the story printed...my editor isn't going to believe all of this. I'm not sure I believe all of this...I mean, my God, we're under a biological attack that is going to kill millions of people...the government is so broken that revolution is the only way to get back to where we came from..."

  "You still don't get it!" barked the colonel. "It isn't a revolution; we are merely taking back what was ours. This is a country of the people, for the people...those fat cats in government and their cronies in industry have taken our country from us. We are taking our nation back and those who robbed us will pay for their crimes. But I know what you mean Mister Martin; I myself can't believe that America has come to this. But there is still time to put things right and we intend to, are ya onboard?"

  "Yes." answered Martin firmly.

  "Good, now to be perfectly honest with you, the next thing that we have to be concerned with is keeping everyone in this room safe, which includes you." The Colonel gestured to one of the young men in the back of the room. He rose and delivered a small electronic device to the Colonel. "This Mister Martin will detect bugs; always sweep your home, car and office. Never, repeat ,Never uses your cell phone to discuss any of this. The Colonel opened his suitcase and produced a large cell phone. "Use this, it's a secure sat phone...don't call us...we'll call you. Got everything now Mister Martin?"

  Martin nodded. The Colonel then shook his hand as did all of those in the room. The Colonel opened the door to the conference room. "Good luck Bruce and God Bless you and God Bless America." Martin mustered a weak smile and strolled down the long sterile corridor, his footsteps echoing. Martin was emotionally stunned and drained as he reached the outside doors. The sun was a large pink ball sinking over the Tampa skyline.

  After half an hour of running the gauntlet through Tampa traffic, the highway opened up before Martin. The sky behind him darkened as the bright lights of Ybor City slipped below the horizon. Interstate Four became dark except for the streams of tail lights and headlights. Martin stared almost catatonically into the approaching headlights, wondering where they were going, what they were doing. He imagined that some were going out to dinner in Ybor City, or perhaps returning to the shelter of their homes in Clearwater. Martin wished mightily that he did not carry the burden of his knowledge of impending doom. All of these car's occupants were blissfully ignorant of the approaching disaster. Martin wondered what it must be like to return home to a wife and children. He thought about his childhood but suddenly sorrow poured in upon his thoughts. The emotion took him by surprise, for it always lingered around the edges of his mind and heart, but through many years of practi
ce Martin had tamed the emotion. He quickly changed his thoughts and turned on the radio. He found himself drawn eastward instead of going back south.

  "I'll find a place to grab a bite to eat in Orlando" he thought. "I'm in no hurry...I'll take the scenic route and go over to the coast and head south on Ninety Five."

  After an hour on the Interstate Martin saw an exit sign for the town of Celebration, Martin took the exit and a few minutes later he found himself driving over a quaint little bridge lined with Victorian street lamps. He was in Celebration. Martin enjoyed the drive down Celebration Avenue. The road was lined with large homes, all of which were intricately decorated for Christmas. Martin found a parking spot and walked through the brisk December night towards the town center.