Pipe Dreams

by Destiny Allison

  CHAPTER 52

  Lewis narrowed his eyes at the young scientist. He wanted to slap those flapping lips and shut them up, but refrained. His impulse would only further complicate the situation and prolong his stay.

  He had been called back to the Farm to deal with an emergency. By the time he had reached the garage where his chauffeur waited, he was fuming. “Imbeciles. I have hired imbeciles,” he had railed at the man who accompanied him everywhere. The chauffeur, navigating the SUV through the empty city streets, had not replied and Lewis had yet to vent his rage at the unwelcome intrusion.

  Now, towering over the little man, whose face boasted a pathetic attempt at a mustache, he wanted to scream. The emergency had turned out to be nothing. The air quality gauge in one of the sealed rooms was not registering correctly. All the techs were afraid to leave their monitoring stations to evaluate the specimens for fear of contamination.

  In spite of their knowledge and acumen, the scientists lacked basic common sense. There had been a collective gasp when Lewis opened the airlock and stepped into the control room without benefit of a biohazard suit. What they had failed to remember was the sensors in the corridor were independently wired. He laughed as the blood drained from their faces, pointing out that none of the alarms had been triggered.

  Recovering slightly, they continued to voice their concerns about the failed instrument and didn’t want to continue working until the gauge was repaired. The fine hairs on the tech’s upper lip quivered as he spoke. Lewis wanted to wipe them off like he used to remove the chocolate milk mustache on his younger brother when they were children. As Lewis pretended to listen, he remembered the boy who had not lived to see puberty.

  His brother was tenderhearted, careless, and trusting, forever forgetting to tie his shoes or pay attention to his surroundings. Those traits had killed him. His death had obliterated what conscience Lewis possessed and it had twisted their mother. She had never recovered from the accident. Instead, she became bitter and abusive. No matter how hard he had tried, Lewis couldn’t please her after his brother’s death.

  She had picked, cajoled, pinched, and slapped him until he didn’t recognize himself any longer. Hatred had become his driving force, along with his desire to accumulate the wealth and power that would finally quiet her voice.

  He heard that voice now. Contemptuous, derisive, and shrill, it regaled his shortcomings. So did the man standing in front of him, complaining as if Lewis had broken the gauge. The pressure built, the voices competing for his attention. When it got too great, he grabbed the scientist by his collar and pulled him close.

  “I will not hear another word. You will do the job I pay you to do. I don’t give a flying fuck about a fucking gauge and I don’t give a flying fuck about you. Do you understand you miserable, whining piece of shit?” Lewis released him and stood, shaking. The young scientist backed away, rubbing his throat.

  “Ye, ye, yes sir,” he stammered. The room grew quiet. Lewis glanced around, straightened his shoulders, and left. His chauffeur followed. Together, they strode silently to the elevator. The chauffeur reached out to push the button to the fourth floor, but Lewis stopped him. “I think I need some air,” he said. The chauffeur nodded and the elevator descended to ground level.

  They stepped out and crossed the dingy lobby, ignoring the man behind the reception desk. In the yard, Lewis took a deep breath. He blamed his behavior on the gashes in his face. Without painkillers, the wounds were tortuous. The cool night soothed them and he calmed. In retrospect, his employees had followed his orders to the letter. A month ago he would have taken a malfunctioning piece of equipment seriously. Every small detail had been crucial then. Now, he knew Priscilla 279 would perform to his expectations.

  The last tests were only to convince the other administrators of his thoroughness because they still had the power to block him. His final report would be scoured for anything that didn’t meet the criteria the designers had put in place after the first failed attempts. If the report wasn’t perfect, Lewis wouldn’t be able to count on their network once the virus was released. The world was simply too big, and while his own drug distribution network was well financed and substantial, it wasn’t large enough to encompass the project’s scope. Without the designers’ help, the project could still fail.

  As he walked the paved yard, the gates swung open. A police cruiser pulled through and parked. Chief Bowen eased his large body out of the cramped car and stretched.

  “Thought you’d be home by now,” he said, catching sight of Lewis.

  “Likewise,” Lewis replied.

  “Been doing some thinking. I finally managed to find Ramirez a job that won’t kill him, but something about his explanation didn’t jibe. It’s been bothering me and I figure he’s lying. Thought I’d talk with him, see if I can widen the cracks in his story.”

  “I thought cops took care of their own.”

  “Yeah, well, we do. But I don’t like liars. Can’t trust ’em. I’d hate to be responsible for saving his ass if he’s here for reasons of his own. Thought I’d better check before he does anything I’d regret,” Bowen explained.

  “This could be amusing. Mind if I tag along?”

  Lewis had known Ramirez was lying from the moment he saw him. It pleased him that Bowen had returned and he looked forward to the interrogation. As they entered the main building, the chauffeur’s radio squawked.

  “We’ve got company,” a voice said through the receiver. Instantly, all three men were on alert. The chauffeur pressed the talk button on his handheld.

  “Where?” he asked.

  “Third floor, near the cafeteria,” the voice replied.

  “How many?”

  “I don’t know for sure. Jake spotted something coming out of the can.”

  “Get a team up there. Secure the stairwell. Don’t let them out,” the chauffeur said. Then he turned to Lewis. “We need to get you to a safe location, Sir.” The chauffeur ushered them through the lobby and toward a small office on the main floor.

  “No. Not here. Go to the lab,” Lewis said, turning toward the elevator.

  “Sir, I don’t think that’s a good idea,” the chauffeur objected.

  “I don’t pay you to think.”

  At the entrance to the lab, Lewis punched the code to unlock the security door. In the control room, he waited for the others to enter before sealing the airlock behind them.

  “This is as safe as anywhere,” he said, indicating the video monitors that flanked the walls. They flashed images from the cameras he had mounted throughout the floor. The cameras weren’t strictly necessary, but he had installed them to keep the lab techs in line.

  The technicians went wide-eyed as the chauffeur pulled a slick, 9 millimeter Berretta from its holster, inspected the weapon, and checked the magazine. When satisfied, he slid it back into place. Leaving the safety strap unfastened, he focused on the video feed.

  All was quiet. The people occupying the observation rooms were sleeping and the hallways, bathrooms, and lab were empty. Lewis paced. Several minutes went by before a breathless voice came through the radio transmitter.

  “Shots fired. Man down. They’re Special Forces. Don’t know how many...” Before the man finished speaking, rapid gunfire erupted. The radio went silent.

  “Come on! Move!” Lewis yelled, bolting for the airlock door. He flung it open, dashed into the hallway, and ran into the lab. Bowen and the chauffeur sprinted after him.

  Lewis punched another keypad mounted to the right of a large cooler. When the light went green, he pulled the handle and stepped inside, returning a minute later with a small rack containing several rubber stopped vials. “Take this,” he said, thrusting the rack at Bowen. Then he went back inside. When he came out, he carried a thick, Styrofoam container and a leather briefcase. He hurried out of the lab and back to the control room where he flipped switches on the instrument panel, opening all the air valves and turning on the ventilation system. Then he turned off t
he automated air security system.

  The young scientist who had accosted him earlier screamed, “What the hell are you doing?” He grabbed Lewis, trying to pull him away from the panel. The chauffeur stepped forward and put his gun to the young man’s head. The man dropped his hands and backed away. “Come here,” Lewis said, gesturing to Bowen. “Roll up your sleeve and make a fist.” He took the rack from the chief, placed it on a table, and extracted one of the vials. Then he opened the briefcase, took out a hypodermic needle, and filled it with the brownish liquid.

  “About time we got you vaccinated. Make a fist, Bowen,” he said. Locating a vein, he positioned the needle and inserted it into the chief’s skin. Then he tossed the used needle onto the table. Handing the rack of vials back to the chief, he picked up the Styrofoam container and briefcase and stepped into the hallway, ignoring his screaming technicians. They ran for the door, but the chauffeur blocked their exit. Aiming his pistol, he fired four well placed shots. The technicians fell to the floor and the bloody room went silent.

  Lewis paid no attention to the commotion. He walked to a fire exit, opened the airlock door to the stairs, and used the container to prop it ajar. Opening its lid, he pulled out a sealed, glass bottle and removed the stopper. Though unnecessary, he held the bottle up to a ventilation duct in the stairwell and smiled. The warning system picked up the air contamination. As a red light flashed and an alarm blared, thousands of tiny molecules rode the air currents through the building. The virus would find hosts and multiply. Nothing could stop it now. He would explain the early release to the designers as soon as he was safe. They would understand the circumstances and begin implementing immediately. Whether they liked it or not, Priscilla 279 was free.

  As they descended the concrete stairs, an explosion rocked the building, dousing it in darkness. Emergency lighting came on, dimly illuminating the steps. The chauffeur stopped, raising an eyebrow. Lewis nodded and said, “Do it. Make the call.”

  CHAPTER 53

  McGrath pulled a dry stick of spaghetti from his shirtfront pocket and wedged it between his teeth. Someone had told him chewing the bland pasta would calm his cigarette cravings. That guy didn’t know what the hell he was talking about, but McGrath did it anyway. Even if he had a cigarette, he couldn’t smoke inside the command post. The spaghetti was better than nothing.

  It had been more than an hour since he had relayed the images from Malone’s camera to the Pentagon and CDC. How long did it take to decipher a chemical formula anyway? He tossed the spaghetti in the trash can and ran his hands through his hair.

  The multiple video monitors, lighted instrument panels, and radar screens that flashed on consoles throughout the room had always been a comfort. The instruments ensured a modicum of control. They put him instantly in touch with anyone and everyone he needed to talk to, mitigating the weight of his responsibility. In this room, he wasn’t alone.

  Now, they were useless. Until he received confirmation, he could do little more than pace. There was no doubt in his mind the formulas inscribed on the papers were authentic. Call it instinct, experience, or faith, he knew they were real the instant they had appeared on the screen. Vanessa’s belief in her grandfather’s nature contributed to his conviction. Whatever the man had done, he had believed it right. All the evidence supported that conclusion – from the hidden formulas to Isaac’s phone call and Harry Rose’s suicide note. These misguided men wanted something better for the world. They also understood the best laid plans often go wrong and had done what they could to ensure humanity had a way to undo their efforts. For that, he held a small measure of gratitude.

  Vanessa and Michael nestled together on the floor in a corner of the room. He had tried to get them to return to the barracks, but Vanessa had refused and Michael wouldn’t leave her alone. McGrath supposed she had more right than anyone to be here when the results came back from the CDC and had granted the small favor after his initial rebuke.

  When Michael caressed Vanessa’s hair, a brief pang of envy knotted McGrath’s heart. He would like nothing better than to be at home with Beth. As he invoked her image, a printer whirred. He spun around and took two long strides to the machine, snatched the paper, and scanned it. Then he crumpled the communiqué and sagged into a chair. The orders he had just received caused all the air in him to compress. The formula had been verified. The antidote, though untested, appeared to be real. Without the threat of the Blue Flu, the military was free to act. They no longer needed to worry about stealth. Instead, they would eradicate the Priscilla virus at its source. He was to recall the SEALs and evacuate the base immediately. The bombers were on the way.

  Vanessa appeared in front of him with her hands on her hips. Intense and anxious, her eyes bored into him. “What did it say?” she asked.

  “They’re real. We have the antidote.”

  Vanessa breathed a sigh of relief and a broad smile lit the contours of her face. “See. He was a good man!” Her smile faded as she registered McGrath’s expression.

  “What’s wrong?” she asked.

  “We have to evacuate the base immediately,” McGrath replied.

  “Why?”

  “They’re going to blow the city. They’ll incinerate it to kill every last organism and destroy the Priscilla virus.”

  “You can’t be serious! What about all the people?”

  McGrath shook his head. He was old, tired, and used up. Though he should have been relieved, he wasn’t. He envisioned the people of Edenton screaming.

  “Sound the alarm and relay the order. We’ll evacuate to Post 31. I want everyone moving in fifteen minutes. And call the team. Tell them to get off the island now. Tell them not to wait. There’s not much time,” he said to his subordinate. The man nodded and turned to his instrument panel. A loud siren blared. McGrath started for the door, but Michael took a menacing step forward and blocked his path.

  “What the fuck do you mean they’re gonna blow the city? Man, there’s people there. Lots and lots of people. My people are there. You can’t just let them die! Do something! Stop this!” he cried.

  “I can’t Michael. As far as the world is concerned, those people are already dead. They died six years ago when the Blue Flue hit the city. I thought you knew. Technically, you’re a ghost.” McGrath sighed and met Michael’s eyes.

  “Look, this whole thing’s a tragedy. None of it should have happened. But this is our best bet. The bombs they’ll drop are powerful. The Pricilla virus will never be released. No one else has to get hurt. No one else has to die because of this. Your people were victims. I’m sorry for them. Hell, I’m sorry for you, me, and everyone else who’s been caught up in it. But it’s over. It’s done. Now you need to gather up your people and get them to safety. There’s no time,” McGrath said.

  Michael said nothing, contemplating the colonel’s words. Vanessa grabbed his hand and squeezed it

  “Come on Michael. We’ve got to go,” she urged. As they neared the door, the coms officer shouted.

  “Colonel, the team is transmitting. Sir, you’ll want to hear this.” He flipped a switch on the console. CoCo’s voice, ragged and heavy, came through the speakers.

  “Most of the team hasn’t returned yet. They’re still in transit. I’ve turned them around and instructed them to get the hell out of here. I’ve got one man down and two wounded. We’re not gonna make it out,” he said.

  McGrath picked up the transmitter. “Commander, you get your ass off the island. That’s an order. I don’t care what you have to do. Just do it and go!”

  “Sorry, Sir. Can’t do that. They’ve released the virus. Everyone at the plant is infected. I leave, I spread it. We’re going to stay where we are, Sir.” A hush fell over the room and several seconds passed before McGrath could speak.

  “Are you sure, son? How do you know?”

  “We were on recon, waiting for the rest of the team to get here. We must have been spotted. I had two guys downstairs. Quinn and I were checking out the upper flo
ors. There was a firefight. Quinn took one in the shoulder. Then an alarm sounded. Just after that, the guys downstairs blew an electric panel and created a distraction to help us get out. They managed to get information out of one of the bad guys. The alarms are automatic. They go off when the air has been contaminated. Fucking guy laughed in my man’s face. Said we’re all fucked now anyway. Don’t know for sure, Colonel, but I’m guessing he was telling the truth. So we’re gonna sit tight and wait for the bombers, if that’s alright with you.”

  “Jesus,” McGrath said. He ran his hand through his hair and stared at the console, picturing the SEALs holed up somewhere waiting for bombers to blow them to kingdom come. Then he drew a deep breath and pressed the talk button.

  “How long has it been since the alarm went off?” he asked

  “I’m guessing two, maybe three minutes,” CoCo answered.

  “Okay, son. Hang tight. We’ll get back to you.” McGrath set the transmitter down and cleared his throat. Then he turned to his subordinate.

  “Get this to the Pentagon. Check with Weather. Find out which way the wind is blowing. Get an estimate on how long we’ve got before the virus reaches the mainland. We’ve got to get these people out of here,” he said.

  Without waiting for Michael and Vanessa, McGrath returned to his office where he picked up the phone and called his wife. When she answered, he let out the breath he had been holding. Just the sound of her voice was reassuring.

  “Beth, it’s happening. There’s not much time. Grab the essentials and get the kids out. We’re evacuating the base and moving inland, but I want you to go to your sister’s.” He tried to keep his voice from communicating the panic he felt, but she knew him too well. She protested, demanding an explanation. “Honey, you’ve got to trust me on this. I can’t do my job if I’m worrying about you. Please. Don’t argue. I need you safe,” he begged. She choked down a sob. Then she agreed. Relief flooded through him. He had bought his family some time. “I love you, Beth. You know that? More than anything.” He blinked back tears as she reciprocated the sentiment. Then he said goodbye, promising he would call her as soon as he could, and hung up the phone.