CHAPTER FORTY THREE
Mount Weather Emergency Operations Center, Virginia
Stretching in his bed, Doctor Andrew Chang looked at the clock. It was 6:42, nearly 50 minutes before he was supposed to meet the others in the DFAC for breakfast. Rolling over, he brought his feet around and placed them on the floor, sliding them into the slippers that had been provided for him.
Yawning as he rose, he walked over to the little Keurig coffee maker that had been provided in the room and pressed the ‘on’ button to begin heating the device. While it heated, he went to the bathroom, where he urinated, brushed his teeth, washed his face, and shaved before returning to the main room. He opened the Keurig, dropped a coffee pod in the machine, closed it, and pressed the ‘brew’ button before walking to the closet to grab his clothes for the day.
The smell of the coffee brewing filled the room as he dressed, filling him with desire to drink the liquid straight from the machine. The previous night, like all of those before it, had been a long one. The team had researched everything they could about Doctor Roberts, finding his work history, current employer, home address, and every currently assigned phone number for him. They’d tried calling each, only to be frustrated by the lack of service in the L.A. area. On a whim, they even tried emailing him, using the work, school, and personal email addresses they’d found, but again they got nowhere. Having no way to get in contact with him, they began researching the drug itself, but were able to find little.
Sometime after one-thirty, they’d called it quits for the day, returning to their respective rooms for the night with a vow to pick things back up after a quick breakfast at seven-thirty.
By the time he put his pants on, the coffee had finished brewing, and he couldn’t resist stopping in the middle of getting dressed to sip some of the coffee, needing the life it brought back into his weary body.
Standing there in nothing but his slacks and government provided slippers, sipping his coffee with his eyes closed, he was startled by a sudden knock at the door. Looking over at the mirror, he realized he was in no shape to answer the door. Rushing back to the closet, he called out, “Just a second!” He threw on a lab coat over his naked torso before answering the door.
It was Sergeant Mason. “Good morning, Andrew. Sorry to bother you so early, but the President is calling a status meeting this morning at zero eight.”
“Ohh...Okay. Ummm, we’re supposed to meet for breakfast at seven thirty. We’ll have to move that up. I’ll tell Doctor Reed.”
Sergeant Mason nodded. “Sounds good. I’ll meet you out front at zero seven forty-five, okay?”
“Zero seven forty-five.” With the coffee still working its magic, Doctor Chang needed a moment to register what was being stated. “Okay. See you then.”
As the sergeant walked away, Chang quickly closed the door, returned to his closet and got dressed, before grabbing what remained of his coffee and rushing out of the door, turning to Doctor Reed’s room and knocking on the door.
Hearing nothing after the first knock, he waited a bit and knocked again. Perhaps Jonathan was in the middle of his morning workout.
When Doctor Reed answered the door, he was covered in sweat, but the presence of Doctor Bowman, wearing a robe and a shocked look on her face told Doctor Chang that they’d found a different way to work up a sweat.
Doctor Reed closed the door partially behind him, blocking Lisa Bowman from view. “Well. Ummm. Good morning.”
Doctor Chang felt embarrassed. Why he did, he didn’t know, but he felt that way nonetheless. “Uh, sorry to bother you. We’re being called to a briefing at eight, so we need to meet out front at seven forty-five.”
Reed nodded, not making eye contact. “Okay. So you’re going to breakfast now? We’ll - I’ll, I mean, you know - ”
Doctor Bowman pulled the door all the way open. She was somehow completely dressed, her hair pulled back, the sweat gone from her face. She pushed past them both. “I’ll see you there in five.”
The two men unintentionally replied in unison. “Okay.” They looked at each other briefly, then turned and went their separate ways, Doctor Reed returning to his room, Doctor Chang heading to the DFAC.
Even after the surprising development Chang had stumbled upon, breakfast was surprisingly routine, as the team tried to figure out what information they’d be able to provide in short sound bites for the briefing.
Most of the leaders gathered at these briefings were very intelligent and highly capable, but short on time. As a result, they needed bite-sized info to quickly digest so that they could move from an update to a plan rapidly. Fortunately, Andrew had made strides learning to brief in this manner, thanks to tips from Sergeant Mason’s C.O., Colonel Williamson. They planned the talking points between bites of breakfast and gulps of coffee, using every bit of time available before they had to make a frantic rush to the front of the building.
Sergeant Mason was waiting for them outside of the building in the white government van, parked close to the building with the engine running. Inside the vehicle, the air conditioning was cranking out cold air in response to the hot, humid weather that was typical for an early June in Virginia. Doctor Chang thanked the sergeant for picking them up, but otherwise no one said anything. Things were looking bleak.
Traveling across the base, the place looked like a ghost town. The streets were almost completely free of vehicles, other than the armored Humvees that drove around the perimeter, watching for intruders. (The van had a special decal plastered on its hood, indicating that it was a VIP transport.) The convenience store and commissary were both closed, opening only for short hours on Saturdays as food and other necessities were rationed. Fields that typically bustled with activity sat empty, weeds popping up from lack of maintenance.
Eighty percent of base personnel, along with their families had decided to remain there, finding it the safest place to be, given the circumstances. After extensive discussions between base leadership and the senior government personnel present, permission was requested from and granted by the President to find and bring in a variety of professionals to ensure the base’s long-term stability, if needed. These professionals provided much needed expertise in a number of the things necessary to keep the Operations Center running and its people safe and healthy. Electricians, plumbers, mechanics, HVAC technicians, and civil engineers were there to handle any infrastructure related issues that may arise. Medical and dental professionals, nutritionists, counselors, and clergy were brought in to provide health or counseling services. Between these people and their families, approximately 180 additional people had been brought into the base during the 3 days after the base was originally considered to be ‘locked down.’
In an interesting development, multiple veterinarians were brought in to care for the many dogs and cats which were on the base. This addition was a last minute surge, resulting from multiple reports of domesticated pets being able to smell infected people from greater distances than humans. While it was understood that their sense of smell was better than man’s, no one knew exactly what it was they smelled that made them take on defensive postures. Regardless, there had been numerous instances of pets alerting their owners before the infected got close, affording them the opportunity to hide, run, or fight. This information had been quickly passed to Doctor Chang and his team, but they’d been unable to find any correlation.
However, even with eighty percent of the assigned personnel, the influx of VIPs, and the specialists and their families, the vast majority of people remained inside as much as possible. Standing guidance was to minimize contact with others as much as possible to reduce the likelihood of passing on any colds or contagious illnesses.
The oldest building on the base, one of the original barracks that housed enlisted personnel, had been converted into a quarantine area. It stood empty at this point, but if/when it was pressed into use, each family or group would be given one ‘quad’ that had a common area, small kitchen, surrounded by fou
r smaller connecting rooms, each with two beds, storage, and a small bathroom. Individuals that came would put into quads as well, in separate bunk rooms, and would be expected to limit contact as much as possible. With the number of people gathering at the gate growing daily, Dr. Chang wondered how long it would be before the government decided to let some of them in.
Building One’s appearance had changed since the lockdown as well. Security forces had taken up spots in front of the building, creating a protective barrier for the structure. At the edge of the circular drive, a temporary guard shack had been erected, where a minimum of two soldiers were always present, waiting to verify the identity of those wishing to enter. Set back from the guard shack, on either side of the walkway were stacks of sandbags, creating barriers around positions where M240 Machine Guns were mounted and more soldiers stood at the ready, armed with M4A1 automatic weapons. Close by, Armored Humvees sat ready to respond to any threat that approached.
Inside the building, Chang, Reed, and Bowman had to show their IDs again, and go through the metal detectors before being allowed access. Chang found this to be rather redundant, but had too many other things to worry about to bother voicing his opinion.
Apparently, Doctor Reed felt differently. “Why do we have to go through this twice?” Irritation showed on his face as he glared at the security guard, a young white man with muscles bulging under his camouflage uniform. His name tag read Whitten.
“Precautions, Sir.”
Reed persisted. “I understand precaution, but it seems like a waste of time showing our identification twice. Don’t you understand the pressure we’re under?”
Unfazed, Whitten stared at the doctor with emotionless eyes. “I understand sir, but you have your job and I have mine. My job is to keep this building secure. Now, if you would, please move along. We can’t have people congregating near the entrance.”
Doctor Chang placed his hand on Reed’s elbow, urging him on. Reed glared at the man, irrationally irritated by the inconvenience. Throughout all of this, Bowman had remained silent. Fatigue showed on her face, and everything made sense. “Jon, come on. We’ll be late.”
Reluctantly, the tall man allowed himself to be drawn away from the security checkpoint. As they walked down the hallway, he muttered, “Sorry, just irritable.”
Chang nodded in agreement. “Me too. We’re all running on fumes at this point.”
“And not much to show for it.” Bowman added.
“Let’s not sell ourselves short. We know something about the origin. That could help us determine how to combat this thing.”
Reed and Bowman nodded. “We also know some of the limitations the infected have.” Reed sighed heavily, his exhaustion evident.
“Great point. That may help keep the infected at bay.” Chang saw the entrance to the conference room up ahead in the hallway. Two guards stood outside, weapons slung around their shoulders. “Regardless, I’m going to set a fixed schedule for all of us. Each of us will be barred from the lab for 6 hours a day. We need rest.” As they approached the guards, Chang looked over at Reed. “Go easy on these guys, OK?”
“Yeah, I’m good.” Reed quietly showed his badge to the guard, then fell in behind Chang and Bowman as they went through the double doors.
Entering the briefing room, Dr. Chang and his teammates felt a sense of unease. While they’d learned a bit about the virus, they had yet to identify a way forward.
This time all three doctors were sitting at the table, all on the right side of the room. Talk was minimal in the conference room, the mood dark. Things had gotten really bad really fast, and no one in the room had any idea how to stop it, not even the experts. ‘These military officers, with all of their experience fighting enemies, have to feel the most powerless’ Chang thought. Shaking his head, he chided himself, ‘easy now, you haven’t necessarily figured out to fix anything, either.’
The VTC screens were on, showing the White House as an additional location. NORAD, the Pentagon, and the CDC were online, waiting as those at Mount Weather were.
In the room with Chang and his team, Harold Donnelly, the Secretary of Health and Human Services, and the senior person present, was at the head of the table.
Looking at the screens, it occurred to Doctor Chang that each location had fewer people than before. He knew what that likely meant.
After two long minutes, the President came into the room shown on the White House screen, accompanied by the Secretary of State and her two aides. Dressed in a charcoal grey suit and red blouse that weren’t as neatly pressed as her clothes usually were, she looked tired, stressed, and ready to get down to business.
Wasting no time, she sat down and began. “Okay, let’s get started. Secretary Donnelly, You’ve been gathering information from the CDC, federal and international law enforcement agencies, and the intelligence community. Harold, please share what you’ve learned.”
“Yes Madam President. In total, we’ve determined that within the U.S. there have been over 7 million fatalities that were directly related to the virus. This includes those killed by the infected people and those who were infected themselves. Additionally, there have been another 400 thousand killed indirectly as a result of the virus.
“This includes people like those in hospitals, elderly unable to get the help they need, people unable to get medicine, and so on.
“Globally, the total is over 60 million.”
Audible gasps could be heard around the room. On the screens, people were visibly distraught as well. Some simply stared at the desks, while others shook their heads in denial, covering their mouths to keep their emotions from coming out.
Secretary Donnelly continued. “The impacts of the virus have begun to cripple our infrastructure as well. It should come as no surprise that the places where people were most likely to interact with the infected were transportation related.
“Train stations, airports, bus depots, subways - all of these have been severely impacted by the virus. Most airports are down to 20% of scheduled flights and will probably suspend operations altogether by tomorrow.
“Trains are managing to maintain 65% of scheduled routes, but subways and buses are down around 30%.
On the screen, the president wrote more notes, shaking her head. She held her hand up, indicating that he should wait. She underlined something on her iPAD, then looked up at him. “How are the utilities and the emergency services holding up?”
Donnelly’s face relayed the message before he spoke. “Not great, Madam President. For the most part, water seems to be relatively stable, and can run without a lot of human interaction for quite some time. Power, though, requires much more monitoring. With the summer coming, it stands to reason that most power companies will not be able to provide sufficient oversight to prevent excessive power draws and the resulting blackouts. If that happens, water will become unavailable as the pumps that provide pressure to the lines stop running.
“Nuclear power plants will go until there is a condition which automatically triggers a safety shut off. At that point, only a human can reset the systems to bring the plants back on line. Fail safes in place would require a minimum of three personnel to perform the restart.”
“What about solar power?”
“Madam President, solar power will help keep electricity going during the daylight hours, but typically during darkness or inclement weather, the electricity would be provided from the grid. The only exception would be systems that have power banks. The vast majority of systems do not, about 98%.”
“I see.”
“Regarding emergency services, they’re failing fast. Medical services are not equipped to handle an epidemic of this size, so they’ve been overwhelmed and are largely ineffective. Additionally, the initial rush of people that arrived at the medical centers and hospitals arrived before any real guidance had been put out regarding prevention. Basic flu prevention methods were helpful, but not completely effective. Many people were infected, and of those, the majo
rity were sent home, spreading their germs further.
“Firefighting and police services are operating at less than 50%. They were impacted as well, since, as first responders, they were present at most incidents of hyper aggressive people attacking others.”
President Martinez looked tired. It was easy to see that each update hit her like a shot to the gut. No president had been faced with anything of this magnitude, and what little guidance existed was generic, based on suppositions that came nowhere close to matching the reality they faced.
“How are the people handling it?”
“So far, most are hiding in their residences, but that’s unlikely to last. The majority of stores have been closed for anywhere from 48 to 96 hours now, and the average person doesn’t have enough non-perishable goods to last much longer than a week at the most. Once the food runs out, people will be forced to loot. That will lead to more violence, this time from the uninfected who see them as new threats.”
On the screen, the President moved her head slightly, looking at a different screen on her end. “Is the military ready to respond?”
A large black man in a Marine Uniform responded. The placard in front of him read “CJCS”. “Yes, Madam President, but our forces are likewise affected.”
“Dammit.” The President swore under her breath, unaware that the mic picked up her voice. No one had ever heard her swear.
“Okay, I understand, General Manning. I guess I shouldn’t have expected the military to be spared. What’s the SITREP?” Doctor Chang had recently been informed that SITREP stood for Situation Report.
“Madam President, the Navy is crippled. Only about 25% of ships have sufficient manning to get underway. We’ve had a bit of luck in that Carrier Strike Group Seven has been at sea since the first reported incident. We’ve ordered them to remain at sea until further notice. They can stay at sea for at least three weeks before food runs out.
Surviving Rage | Book 1 Page 41