Eden Rising

by Brett Battles

  After slipping the phone into his pocket, he inserted the business end of the detonator into the explosives, and put the whole thing back into the bag. As an afterthought, he reached into the bag, wedged Wicks’s message between two of the bricks, and left the office again, headed for the center of the complex.

  LAS CRUCES

  MATT’S GROUP HAD not been at the school. Nor had they been at the business park a few miles west. Nor in the lot of the Big Kmart near the interstate.

  Thinking it unlikely his friend would have wanted his group stationed to the north, closer to the Project Eden base, Ash had directed Sorrento to go south on a road that paralleled the I-25.

  “Looks like a big shopping center coming up,” Sorrento said.

  It appeared to be an indoor mall, with a wide parking lot already blanketed with a thin layer of snow. The portion of the lot they could see was empty.

  “Take us in and around,” Ash said.

  Sorrento drove their truck into the lot and headed to the south end. As they made the turn around the mall, they were lit up by four sets of headlights.

  “Hold on!” Sorrento yelled as he slammed on the brakes.

  “Get out of your vehicle right now!” someone yelled from beyond the lights.

  Ash whipped his hand up to shield his eyes from the glare.

  “Get out now!” the voice ordered.

  “I think those are Humvees,” Chloe said.

  Ash squinted his eyes and could just make out the shapes of two of the vehicles. Chloe was right. He also spotted something else. Behind them and off to the side was the shadow of another vehicle. Not a Humvee. A cargo truck.

  He reached for his door.

  “What are you doing?” Chloe asked.

  “It’s them,” he said.

  “Are you sure?”

  “Yes.”

  He pushed out the door and stood in the opening, still on the truck. “Matt? Matt, it’s Ash!”

  Hushed voices on the other side, then the lights cut out.

  Ash squeezed his eyes shut, trying to readjust to the sudden darkness. When he opened them again, he could see someone stepping out from between the trucks.

  “Captain Ash?”

  Recognizing the voice, he said, “Hiller?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  Hiller took a few more steps forward and Ash could make out his face.

  “We thought you were going to Nevada, sir,” Hiller said.

  “Change of plans. ” Ash hopped to the ground. “I need to see Matt.”

  “Um, Mr. Hamilton’s not here.”

  “Please do not tell me he went to the base.”

  “He did.”

  “Alone?”

  “I tried to get him to take one of us with him, but he wouldn’t go for it.”

  Ash swore under his breath as he looked out into the storm.

  “Where is he?” Chloe said, getting out of the truck.

  “We’re too late,” Ash said. “He’s gone.”

  “That son of a bitch. What does he think he’s doing? How the hell is he going to handle this on his own?”

  Ash looked back at Hiller. “Do you know what he had planned?”

  “No, sir. He just told us to wait here, and if he didn’t call in by nine p.m., we were to head for Nevada.”

  “Tell me he took a gun with him, at least,” Chloe said.

  “I don’t know. The only thing he had was a duffel bag.”

  “What was inside?” Ash asked.

  “No idea.”

  Ash rubbed a hand across his chin. With a frown he said, “As much as I wish we could go blazing in and pull him out of there, it’s not an option. But sitting around here and waiting isn’t, either.” He looked at Chloe. “You and I are going to move in close. Hiller, I need two of your best men to come with us.”

  “That would be me and Lin,” Hiller said.

  It didn’t surprise Ash that Hiller would want to come along. “Okay, the two of you pull together some weapons and whatever gear you think we might need. Chloe and I will appropriate one of those cars over there.” He nodded toward the part of the lot where a handful of cars were scattered. Any of them would be stealthier than using one of the Humvees.

  “What’s the plan?” Chloe asked.

  “We watch. If there’s any way to tell if Matt’s in trouble, we go in. Worse case, we’ll be a hell of a lot closer if he does call for help.”

  NEAR FORT MEADE, MARYLAND

  10:34 PM EST

  “SO?” TAMARA ASKED.

  “Another second. I’ve almost got it,” Bobby told her.

  “FYI, not the first time you’ve said that.”

  “If you’d stop talking to me, maybe I could…there! I think that’s it.” He pulled out from the rack where his head and arms had been buried. “Let’s give it a try. Get in front of the camera.”

  The camera was aimed so that the rows of workstations would be seen in the background. It wasn’t as dramatic a backdrop as the White House, but Tamara felt it would do.

  She moved into position. “All set.”

  Bobby typed a few commands into the computer he’d been using, and Tamara’s image filled the giant wall screen.

  “Are we going out?” she said surprised. “Is this it?”

  “Not yet,” he said. “Only an internal test. But it means it works.”

  “So we can do it?”

  “Yeah. Whenever you want.”

  “Now,” she said. “Let’s do it now.”

  Grinning, Bobby turned back to the computer. “I’ll point at you when you’re live, but give it a couple of seconds before you start. You know, for everyone to realize that jerk isn’t on the air anymore.”

  He input the string of commands he’d worked out earlier. In theory, they would override the Project Eden signal and replace it with their broadcast, but since this was the first time he was trying them out, he couldn’t help but feel he should be crossing his fingers. As he typed in the last few characters, he muttered, “Please work,” and punched the ENTER key.

  His gaze shifted to the four small monitors he’d hooked up on the neighboring desk. Each had a piece of white tape stuck in the bottom corner, with letters written on them—NA for the North American feed, SA for the South American, E for the European, and A for the Asian. Until that moment, all four monitors had been playing the message from the faux secretary general of the UN.

  Now, one by one, Tamara’s image began replacing Di Sarsina’s. When she appeared in the last monitor—the one for North America—Bobby pointed at her.

  She waited a few beats, and then began.

  “My name is Tamara Costello. Some of you might remember me as a reporter at PCN. This is not a PCN broadcast. They do not exist anymore. None of the networks do. My purpose for speaking to you is to expose a lie you have all been told. Gustavo Di Sarsina is not the secretary general of the United Nations. I am not sure Gustavo Di Sarsina is even his real name. I do know that the United Nations no longer exists, and therefore it could have not initiated a worldwide effort to save those of us who are still alive.” She paused. “The survival stations Mr. Di Sarsina talked about have nothing to do with survival. Mr. Di Sarsina and the people who are running these stations are the very same people who are responsible for releasing the Sage Flu on the world. The only purpose of these stations is to finish the job. To be clear, what I mean is that if you go to one of these ‘survival stations,’ you will die. Do not trust these people. Do not go anywhere near them. Do not let them know where you are. If you are someplace where English is not spoken but you understand what I’m saying, please, I beg you, translate my words so others will know, too. We need to stay alive. We need to survive.” She paused again. “My name is Tamara Costello. You might remember me as a reporter at PCN. This isn’t a…”

  NB219

  8:42 PM MST

  “WE EXPECT THINGS will pick up in the next few days,” the regional director for southern Asia said.

  “You’re laggin
g, and that’s a problem,” Perez said. “A few days is a few days too many. It should be happening—”

  The door to his office opened and Claudia hurried in. “I’m sorry to interrupt, sir, but we need to end this call right now.”

  “What’s going on?” Perez asked.

  “You need to see this.”

  The center screen went momentarily blank before another image appeared, of a woman standing in some kind of control room.

  “This just started broadcasting,” Claudia said.

  “What do you mean, broadcasting? Where?”

  “North America for sure, haven’t heard about anywhere else yet. It’s knocked our message off the air.”

  He stared at her. “What? How is that possible?”

  “We don’t know, sir.” Claudia looked at the screen. “You should listen.”

  She touched a key and the woman’s voice boomed from the speakers.

  “…is his real name or not. But what I do know is that the United Nations doesn’t exist anymore, so there’s no way it could undertake a worldwide mission to save everyone. The survival stations you’ve heard about? Those are being run by the same people who set off the outbreak in the first place…”

  “How long has this been playing?” he asked.

  “I don’t know, but I can tell it’s not a loop. She’s saying some of the things I first heard, but not quite in the same way. I think it must be live.”

  “Has the cyber division been notified?”

  “They’re the ones who told me.”

  “And they can’t take her down?” he asked in disbelief.

  “They’re trying, but they’re not sure if they can.”

  “What about her location? Where is she broadcasting from?”

  “Unknown at this point, but we’re working on that, too.”

  “Is she also on radio?”

  “Last check, no. Only TV.”

  Perez looked at the woman on the screen again, his eyes narrowing. How much damage could she actually do? Would anyone listen to her? Was anyone even watching television anymore?

  “Find out how widespread this is,” he ordered Claudia. “And the moment we figure out where this is coming from, get someone there to shut her down.”

  “Yes, sir,” she said. “What should we tell everyone? If they haven’t seen it already, they soon will.”

  Many of the monitors throughout the facility had been tuned to the Di Sarsina message, so they would now be displaying the woman’s broadcast. Claudia was right. It would have to be addressed.

  “Patch me into the general comm.”

  __________

  “HEY, CLIFF. LOOK at this,” McCabe said to his colleague.

  Cliff Eames swiveled his chair so he could look at the other security officer’s screen. On it was a camera feed from level three, specifically the area in front of the main elevator doors. Both sets of doors were currently shut. The display on the digital panel next to McCabe’s screen indicated both cars were up at the warehouse level, where McCabe and Eames were stationed. Standing to the left of the elevators, facing away from the screen, was a man in a gray security jumpsuit.

  “Who is that?” McCabe asked.

  Eames studied the man, but it was hard to tell much from the guy’s back. “I’m not sure. Jones?”

  “That’s not Jones. Jones’s thinner.”

  “What’s he doing?”

  Both men watched the screen. From the movements of the man’s back and shoulders, and the occasional elbow sticking out to the side, they could tell he was busy at something.

  “Got me,” McCabe said.

  Eames knew there was probably a mundane answer to his question, but it was a quiet night—it was always a quiet night—and they didn’t have much else to do. “Back it up,” he said. “Let’s at least get a look at his face.”

  McCabe pulled his keyboard out from under the monitor, accessed the menu, and reversed the feed to where the man walked into the picture. He pressed PLAY.

  “I don’t know who the hell that is,” McCabe said.

  “Me, either.”

  Eames pointed at the screen. “Is he opening that?”

  The man was carrying a duffel bag. As he reached the spot where they had originally seen him, he turned his back to the camera and began to unzip the bag, which was now blocked from view by the guy’s body.

  “Go live,” Eames said.

  McCabe switched back to a live shoot. “Dammit.”

  The man was gone.

  McCabe quickly reversed the video until they saw him leave.

  “His bag looks lighter, doesn’t it?” McCabe said.

  It did look lighter, but nothing obvious was left behind.

  Eames rolled back to his own desk. “Find out where he went,” he said. He adjusted the microphone connected to his computer, and tapped into the security radio system. “Aldridge, this is Eames in monitoring. Proceed to level three, main elevators. Make it quick.”

  __________

  THE BLACK PRIUS drove north out of Las Cruces with Ash in the front passenger seat, Hiller behind the wheel, and Chloe and Lin in the back.

  Ash was holding the sat phone to his ear.

  Two rings. “Can I help you?” a man said.

  “This is Ash. Is Rachel there?”

  “She’s right here, Captain. Hold on.”

  A brief pause, then Rachel’s voice. “Ash, what’s going on? Have you found him?”

  “He went to the base.”

  “God, no.”

  “We’re heading in that direction right now, but we don’t know exactly where it is.”

  The line remained quiet.

  “Rachel?”

  “I’m sorry, what?” she said, clearly dazed.

  “Rachel, we need your help. Where precisely is NB219?”

  “NB219, um, right. Let me check.”

  He could hear her asking someone for the base’s location.

  When she came back on, she said, “We have a set of GPS coordinates. I’m not sure if they’re right, but they should be close. Is your GPS still working?”

  “Last I checked,” he said. “Text the coordinates to me right now.”

  __________

  MATT HURRIED DOWN the corridors, wanting to get back to the safety of the empty office as soon as possible. The placement of the plastic explosives had taken him longer than he’d wanted it to. One of the screws holding in place the plumbing-access panel near the elevators had proved stubborn and needed extra effort to remove. Once it was out of the way, though, stuffing the explosives into the available space had been easy.

  He was two minutes from his hiding place when the speakers in the hallway emitted a reverberating bong…bong…bong.

  After the last tone faded, a voice said, “Ladies and gentlemen, this is Principal Director Perez. I’m sure some of you have noticed that our televised message has been replaced.”

  Matt unconsciously slowed his pace. Replaced?

  “For those who have not, the new message is an attempt to warn people from traveling to one of our survival stations.”

  It had to be Tamara and Bobby, Matt realized. They’d done it. They’d actually done it.

  “This message is too little, too late, and, I’m confident, will prove to be ineffectual. We are, however, in the process of returning our own message to the air, and dealing with those who are trying to stop us. I ask that you continue with the excellent hard work you’ve all been doing. Soon we will be moving into our recovery phase and…”

  Matt picked up his pace again.

  To hell with the eleven p.m. meeting. This was his cue to act.

  __________

  “EAMES, THIS IS Aldridge. I’m at the elevators. What is it I’m supposed to be doing here?”

  Eames could see the man on his screen. He keyed his mic. “To the left of car one as you face the doors, see if there’s something on the ground or the wall there.”

  “Uh, say again?”

  “On the left. You�
�re looking for anything that looks unusual.”

  “Unusual like what?”

  “I’m not sure. That’s why I need you to look.”

  Aldridge walked over to area where the man with the duffel bag had been standing. After a few seconds, he said, “Nothing on the ground, and the wall looks…wait a minute.” He paused and leaned closer. “I don’t know if this is what you mean, but there’s a scratch on the surface right next to one of the screws. Looks turned recently.”

  That had to be it, Eames thought.

  “You have something you can open the panel with?” he asked.

  “Yeah, I got something.”

  Aldridge pulled a Leatherman multi-tool out of his back pocket and set to work. As with when the other man had been there, Eames’s view was blocked.

  Less than thirty seconds later, Aldridge said, “Holy shit,” and moved quickly back from the wall.

  Eames could see the panel was off, exposing an area with pipes running through. There was also something oddly shaped stuffed on the side.

  “What did you see?” he asked.

  “Somebody put explosives in there,” Aldridge said. “There’s a detonator sticking out of it.”

  “You’re sure?”

  “I’m no bomb expert, but that’s what it looks like to me.”

  “Close down that area! Don’t let anyone without authorization anywhere near there. I’m sending someone to take a look at it!”

  “Okay,” Aldridge said, sounding like he’d very much like to get the hell out of there himself.

  Eames looked over at McCabe. “Did you find him?”

  “One second.” McCabe stared at his screen, and smiled. “Got him. He’s in an office. Section 23. Room, um, 3C. I’ll send someone in.”

  “No,” Eames said. Who knew what this guy might have with him in there? There were people at the base better equipped than the security staff to handle this kind of situation. Eames put a call through to the barracks.

  __________

  “SIR, WE HAVE a situation.”

  Sims was standing in the common room, at the back of the small crowd that had been watching the broadcast the principal director had just told them about. Sims looked back to find Neal Duncan, one of his men, standing behind him. “What kind of situation?”