by Justin Bell
Davis laughed and shook his head. “You didn’t see what I saw,” he muttered. “Too late, man. All is already lost.”
The entrance to Fort Detrick stood before them, a simple door within the stoic, solid wall of the base, and Wakefield turned toward him, reaching out to open it.
“If what’s in that case is what we think it is, we’ve still got a chance, Sergeant. We’ve got a shot at stopping this thing.”
“Whatever helps you sleep at night,” Davis replied.
Wakefield opened the door and the soldier pushed through, his shoulder jostling the intelligence agent and moving him aside as he entered the building. Wakefield turned and watched him get swallowed by the dimly lit hallway, then looked to Bryce, sharing a concerned glance between them.
“Are you thinking what I’m thinking?” Wakefield asked.
“Davis is going to be a problem,” Bryce replied.
“A problem that we may have to deal with. But we’ll tackle that when it comes. For now we need to get that data to Colonel Reeves and see what we can dig up.”
They entered the building, pulling the door closed behind them, leaving the night once again dark and silent.
***
Lisa rested back on her aching knees, drawing in a deep, unsteady breath. Curling three fingers, she pulled a lock of hair from her eyes, blinking away the sweat and dirt, then she set down her wire crimpers and used both hands to pull her hair back into a ponytail. The basement of the library was darker and dirtier than the one in City Hall, but had the most potential storage space for additional mounting equipment and networking switches, so she had begun meticulously stripping and re-crimping cable to make room for added capacity. In the good old days, she would have hopped in the car and driven the twenty-five miles to Best Buy, Staples, or heck even Home Depot to grab a spool of network cable, but with the mayor’s focus on security she had to remember back to her basic network courses to hand make the category five cables, lining up the twisted pairs of copper and clamping on the plastic ends. It had taken her some time to dig through City Hall catacombs, but she’d remembered leaving some of those odds and ends there just in case they were needed for future repairs.
She was glad she did.
Now she knelt on the hard cement, pulling cables, in some cases snipping the ends so she could remove slack and reuse cable as well as neatening up the existing cable runs. She would need all the extra material she could get.
Behind her, the wooden stairs creaked with the weight of someone stepping down them, one at a time, moving slow, but not trying to conceal their approach. Lisa flicked off the headlamp strapped over her bunched up hair and looked back, seeing a formless shadow behind the floating blob of an approaching flashlight.
“Who’s there?” she asked.
Three more shapes appeared behind the first, spreading out behind him as they reached the bottom of the staircase and Lisa’s heart quickened as she moved from kneeling to standing, using the wire racks for leverage.
“Who is it?” she demanded, more loudly this time.
“Ms. Martin?” the voice said calmly, and Lisa recognized it.
“Mayor Harris?”
The light switch flipped and illuminated the dirty corner of the basement she was kneeling in, casting the room in an opaque yellow glow, Lisa bringing up her hand to block the light.
Mayor Harris stood in the center of the room, surrounded by the three other men she had seen come in with him, all three of them dressed in casual clothes, but looking very firm, rigid and official. Looking like his personal security. Looking like people she should be concerned about.
“What’s going on?” she asked.
“We thought we might ask you that question,” the mayor replied.
“I don’t understand.”
“Two men are in the hospital, Lisa. They’re telling us that you put them there.”
Realization came to her, a somewhat relaxing feeling that things that were previously jumbled and confused were slowly starting to fit together and make sense.
“Oh, that,” she replied.
“Yes. That. We have limited resources, Lisa, and now one of our only doctors has to devote his time to dealing with these two men.”
“I’m sorry, but they cornered me. Tried to attack me. I had to defend myself,” she spoke with calm assuredness, the kind of certainty that comes from knowing she did the right thing. The only thing. She’d had no choice.
“Lisa, it’s unfortunate that you were in that position, but I’m afraid that response cannot be tolerated. We’re now down two able-bodied men and we’re under the gun for getting the town secure.”
Lisa glowered at him. “Down two able-bodied men? They tried to attack me. They came after me. What was I supposed to do?”
“You look like an intelligent woman,” Harris sneered. “I’m sure you could have thought of something.”
Lisa’s muscles tensed, her arms becoming as rigid as metal pipes, her fingers closing into fists so tight, the veins stood out on the back of her hands. She could feel her cheeks flush with pure, broiling heat.
“I have work to do,” she hissed.
“I’m sorry, Lisa, but we cannot let this go unaddressed.”
“Oh, good,” Lisa said. “Then I assume you’ll be taking this up with those train wrecks in the hospital? I’m glad to hear that.”
Harris glared at her and the three men slowly moved from around him, coming toward her.
“You have to be kidding me,” she said.
“The world… this town… are in a delicate balance. In times like these we must sometimes do things we don’t want to do for the betterment of the community.”
“I thought I was important to this community,” Lisa hissed.
“Oh, you are, my dear. But I think you need some time for reflection.”
“I’ve had plenty of time for that,” Lisa snapped. “Upon reflection, I wish I’d broken both their legs.”
The man to Harris’s left moved in, reaching for her left arm, but Lisa moved first. She stepped toward him, snapping her arm out, cracking the side of his neck with the knife edge of her hand. He grunted and winced, and she swiveled, pushing in even closer to him, driving a bent-elbow cross punch into his temple, whipping his head down and around. He tumbled and she pushed him hard out of the way, moving out into the basement. The two other men acted quickly, pulling away from Harris and darting to intercept. The first man launched himself, tackling her across the waist, and pushing her to the right, slamming her shoulder-first into a wooden bookshelf pressed against the stone wall of the basement. With a crash, the shelf toppled over, spilling books and supplies out onto the floor, scattering across the man’s back and head. She wrenched in his grip, striking with her elbow and he moved aside, giving her just enough room to drive a knee up into his chest. As she started to push him away, the third man was on her, lunging forward, grappling her arm, shoving it back and pinning it against the wall. The doubled over security guy righted himself and followed the motion of the other, pinning her right arm against the wall as well, holding her there, struggling.
Mayor Harris strode toward her, slowly, with purpose.
“Was that really necessary?” he asked. “Must you make everything a problem?”
“So, twice I’ve been attacked, and twice it’s been my fault?” Lisa asked through choked breaths. “If this is the kind of town you’re building here, maybe I’d prefer you just left me to die on my father’s farm.”
“I’m sorry, you’re far too useful for that. However, there is a holding cell in City Hall. Perhaps some time in there will let you properly reflect upon these events, and maybe even learn to appreciate the gift you’re being given here.”
“You and I have far different opinions on what constitutes a ‘gift’.”
Harris glared at her, his eyes meeting hers, searching for some sign of acknowledgement. A sign of weakness, however small. A willingness to give in to his wishes.
He found none.
“Take her to the holding cell. Lock her up until I tell you to let her out. We’ll see if that teaches her some manners.”
As one of the men struggled to pick himself up off the concrete floor, the other two wrestled her from the wall and dragged her, thrashing up the stairs and out into the darkness of the library above. Mayor Harris watched them leave, his arms crossed over his chest, his jaw working as he considered what to do with Lisa Martin.
***
The truck roared, the engine throttling, echoing off the pavement beneath its sheet metal frame. Clark sat half in the seat and half out, his foot pressing and releasing the accelerator. This stretch of highway had been unsettling in the dark, but here, at the precipice of dawn, it was downright frightening. He and Broderick had been awake all night after he’d returned from the gas station with the tools, going through the exhaust and various other pieces underneath which had shaken loose with the pursuit through the woods.
It had been time consuming and painstaking, but he and Broderick had worked together, tightening bolts, screwing loose screws, and even scavenging parts and pieces from other nearby vehicles. Crawling underneath the cars to strip metal components off felt much less intimidating than actually opening them up to see what state the passengers were in, so they found a few vehicles, and were able to cobble together some sense of repair work to the underneath of the chassis.
“You’re a miracle worker,” Broderick said from the street, glancing over at Clark. He shrugged.
“Just be glad this thing was built before the turn of the century. I actually know my way around real vehicles, not the computers wrapped in plastic that people drive around these days.”
“Well, whatever you did, this thing’s purring like a kitten.”
“An angry kitten, maybe,” Clark replied. He let the engine fade to nothing and stepped out of the truck, easing the door shut. Jackson was stirring, not surprising with all of the noise, but Clark figured he’d give him a few more minutes of shut eye.
“So now that we’re out here,” Clark said quietly. “What’s your take on this Aldrich situation?”
Broderick sighed. “I get it. I mean, he wants to go home, right? Tough to blame him.”
“I just wish we could all stay together,” Clark said. “We can use all the help we can get, and it’s a long way down to Maryland.”
“We’ll figure it out.”
Clark let the silence linger for a moment, then turned toward the other man, taking his eyes off the surrounding cars for a moment. “Is work your only reason for heading down there? You said you had family, right?”
Broderick didn’t return the look, he kept his eyes facing forward. “Honestly?” he said, his voice cracking slightly. “I’m not sure I want to know.”
“Really?”
He lowered his gaze, looking at his hands, clutched together in front of him, his rifle dangling from a shoulder strap. “I’ve seen what this thing can do,” he replied. “Seen it first hand. It’s violent, it’s aggressive, and it doesn’t care who your husband or father is. I don’t know if I could live with myself if I saw my wife and son. Especially after the way things were left.”
Clark coughed lightly, not sure what to say next. Since he’d met him, Broderick had been a stoic statue of non-emotion, a solid rock face with no signs of cracks or fissures. His voice was weak and shaky, as if the entire foundation of the rock he’d built himself on was about to shatter.
“Look,” Clark whispered, “you know I can’t relate. I had two terrible marriages and no kids. But I think you owe it to yourself to at least find out one way or the other.”
“I don’t know,” Broderick replied. “My wife and I weren’t exactly on the best of terms at the end. We were still together, she hadn’t actually gone to the lawyer yet, but I’m sure it was coming.”
“How was your son reacting to this?”
Broderick actually chuckled lightly at this and Clark thought he saw him subtly swipe at his eyes. He kept his own eyes forward, not wanting to interrupt a tender memory.
“We were trying not to be too obvious about it,” Broderick replied. “My son… he’s had some challenges. He doesn’t react to change well. But he could tell. Of course he could.”
“You obviously care very deeply for your boy.”
Broderick nodded. “Most important thing in my life. Problem is, I never treated him that way. Job always came first, then it was issues with Marilyn. Spent so much time being a husband and a scientist that I never got a chance to be a father.”
The world was still silent all around them, the engine echo long since faded into the pink sky, providing a quiet backdrop to the mood shift outside of the vehicle. Broderick didn’t seem to want to say much more, and Clark didn’t pressure him. Even though he’d never had kids himself, he could imagine the pain that the man was feeling at not being able to get that one last good-bye, that one last game of catch in the backyard. Combine that with his final lasting memory of his family being their rotting, infected corpses, and Clark could understand why Broderick might be hesitant to stop by home when he got down to Fort Detrick.
Clark nodded as they stood. “Well, once we get back on the road, we’ll be there soon,” he said. “Then we can kick this chump out and the real work begins.”
Broderick didn’t respond or react, he just remained standing in the street, staring off into the growing light above, the road beneath him stretching on toward destinations unknown.
***
Dean Davis leaned against the smooth wall of the hallway, his eyes easing themselves closed as he drew in a few precious breaths from the artificial air. He never thought he’d be so happy to suck in fake oxygen before, but after two days of living among the baked corpses and smoky air of Boston, the filtered air conditioning of Fort Detrick felt like breathing the clouds of heaven. He breathed deep and long, hoping with each breath that his heart might settle into a normal rhythm, but it was struggling, still rocketing in his chest, although the immediate threats had long since passed.
“Sergeant Davis?”
Davis pried his eyes open, remaining in his relaxed position until those opened eyes landed on the full bird rank insignia on the speaker’s chest.
“Colonel Reeves,” Davis barked, bringing himself upright into full attention. He snapped off a swift salute, which Reeves returned.
“What the hell happened out there?” Reeves asked.
Davis shook his head. “Nothing good, sir.”
“I’ve got R & D combing through that case you brought back now. There were a few dozen samples, but unfortunately not all of them made it intact.”
“I was afraid of that.”
“You did good, Sergeant, okay? You did real good.”
“Not good enough,” Davis replied. “Team Ten is gone, sir. All of them except me and Schmidt.”
“We’ll get you to fill out an official situation report shortly, son, but for now, can you give me a quick run-down of what happened? We’re still clawing for every tidbit of information we can get out here.”
“It was chaos, sir,” Davis replied. “It’s going to take a while for me to get my memories settled.”
“Is it a virus?”
“Yes and no. It’s a weapon. A biological weapon, that much is known. We believe it’s genetic in nature, programmed to attack a specific gene sequence.”
“My God,” Reeves replied. “Who has the capacity to do that?”
Davis’s eyes darted left and right, a slight movement that Reeves didn’t quite catch.
“Not many,” Davis replied. “Barely any, in fact. If our early analysis in the field was correct, this is purely next generation stuff. We were wholly unprepared for the effects.”
“That’s not what I heard,” Reeves replied, and this time it was his turn to look cautiously around the hallway to verify they were alone.
“Sir?”
“I’m not some blind and deaf idiot, Davis. I know I’m mostly the military face of Team
Ten and not necessarily neck deep in all of your operations, but I understand that you specifically were working with intelligence agencies on developing counter-measures for just this sort of attack. Is that right?”
“Sir, I don’t feel comfortable answering that question.”
“You’d best get comfortable answering it, Sergeant. We’re in a mess right now. On the edge of a bonafide apocalyptic scenario. At this point I couldn’t care less about OpSec or chain of freaking command.”
“This is precisely the kind of situation that Operational Security was designed for, sir,” Davis replied.
“So you’re determined to maintain Top Secret designation at the risk of the nation’s entire population? Is that what you’re telling me?”
Davis blinked as if confused by the statement.
“Sergeant, our entire country is at risk. Early death tolls are at the hundreds of thousands, and that’s only because FEMA and our other emergency response teams have been too overwhelmed to build a cohesive effort at keeping a tally.”
Davis shook his head. “No. That’s not right.”
“That is right,” Colonel Reeves said.
“But… our operation. It was low level. Highly regulated. There’s no way…”
“Well, something happened, Sergeant. Something happened and we are neck deep in it. I need to know everything you know, and I need to know it right now.”
“Colonel, please,” the voice was low, but insistent, and Reeves turned in the direction of it. Agents Wakefield, Bryce, Craig, and Kuster strode down the hallway, Wakefield in the lead.
“I should have known,” hissed Reeves. “You’re behind this, Wakefield?”
“It depends on what your definition of ‘this’ is, Colonel. Was I an agency liaison for the response drills in Quincy? Yes, I was. Is that related to what’s going on in the world right now? No, we don’t believe it is.”
“Well, thanks for reassuring me,” Reeves said sarcastically.
Wakefield glanced around, then gestured toward a conference room. “Can we continue this conversation in private, everyone? We have some things that bear discussion.”