“Jake,” Bruce said keying his mic, “what the hell is in here? It has a key lock.”
Several seconds went by before Jake answered, “On the schematics, that room is listed as lab under construction.”
“Is anyone inside?” Bruce asked, stepping away from the wall. He shook his head. For some reason, this room just ‘felt’ important to him and he needed inside.
“No cameras in that room, Dad,” Jake replied. “We have watched a few scientists enter and leave that room over the last few days.”
Letting his SCAR hang as he let it go, Bruce dug in his vest and pulled out his lock picks. “Let’s just shoot the lock,” Carl said behind him.
“What if it’s full of explosive chemicals?” Bruce said putting the picks in the lock.
Moving to the other side of Bruce, “Then let’s leave the damn door locked,” Ted said, watching the hallway.
“Dad, we reviewed the footage. That room is empty,” Jake said over the radio. “The last person left out of there at 1711, according to the camera in the hall behind you.”
Racking the pick back and forth, Bruce was really missing Mike and his lock picking skills right then. After several minutes, Bruce felt the lock give. Putting his picks up, Bruce lifted his SCAR. “Going in easy,” he said, slowly turning the handle and easing the door open.
Walking in, they found lab counters running up and down the room with stacks of boxes. A counter running down the middle of the room had several ammo cans stacked on it. Checking the room, they didn’t find anyone and the others turned to leave, but Bruce walked over to the ammo cans.
A large Plexiglas box with two holes with gloves sticking inside was next to the ammo cans. Inside the glass box was a block of semi-shiny metal and a large pile of gray powder. “What the hell?” Bruce mumbled, moving closer.
On the other side of the box, loose 5.56 rounds were laid out on the counter and several test tube racks were filled with rounds with the nose up. Looking at the rounds, Bruce saw one of the racks held hollow points. The other racks held rounds, but there was a glob of gray at the tip, where someone had sealed the hollow point with lead.
Moving over, Bruce saw a burner and what looked like a block of lead. “Someone sealed these hollow points up with lead,” he said over his shoulder.
“Then leave them the fuck alone,” Gene said from the door. “Anything in a sealed environment box can’t be good.”
Keying his radio, “Jake, was anyone working on ammo here, like putting something in bullets?” Bruce asked.
After a few seconds, “Negative,” Jake responded.
Gene walked over, “Then really leave that the fuck alone. It could be very deadly.”
Ignoring Gene, Bruce looked around and saw a lab coat on the counter with a badge. Walking over, he took the badge. “Someone bring me Patrick Miller,” Bruce said holding up the badge.
Ted got on the radio as Carl came over, “What do you think it is?” he asked looking at the setup.
“Have no idea,” Bruce said, opening up an ammo can and seeing loaded M-4 magazines. Taking one out, he saw a small glob of lead on the tip of the copper jacket. “Someone went through a lot of trouble making these.”
“Is that shit in there radioactive?” Carl asked pointing at the glass box.
“How the hell would I know that?” Bruce asked looking over at him. “Use your brain before you speak, you’re embarrassing the hell out of me.”
Stepping away from the counter, “Someone wants that shit isolated from them really bad when they work with it,” Carl said.
Glad that Carl was thinking out the problem, Bruce looked at the box. “Well, it’s not lead lined,” Bruce noted. “I think they just don’t want it exposed to air.”
Pulling his shemagh over his nose and mouth, “Then it’s airborne,” Carl said trying not to breathe deep.
“If it was deadly, we would know by now,” Bruce said, opening the other ammo cans and finding more loaded magazines. “There are no respirators in here, so quit freaking out.”
As Bruce continued searching, the others watched from a distance until a man was escorted in with his hands zip-tied behind his back. Looking up, “Cut him loose,” Bruce said walking over. “Patrick, what is that?” Bruce asked pointing at the glass box.
“Europium in an environment box,” Patrick said as the trooper who’d escorted him cut the zip-tie. Ted motioned for the trooper to leave and stepped up beside Patrick.
Intrigued, Bruce moved closer to Patrick. “Why are you putting a rare-earth element in bullets?” Bruce asked.
“You know what europium is?” Patrick asked astonished.
“Just because I fight don’t think I’m stupid, dickless. I may behave like a Neanderthal, but I have a brain,” Bruce growled narrowing his eyes. “You get one more chance to answer the question before I force an answer, like a Neanderthal would.”
Patrick tried to step back, but Ted blocked him, “I-I didn’t mean it like that,” he stuttered. “It kills infected,” he said trembling as Bruce turned to glance at the glass box.
The color drained from his face as Bruce froze, “Come again?”
“It kills infected,” Patrick repeated.
“Bullets kill them,” Ted said behind Patrick.
Looking over his shoulder, “Only destroying the brain with a bullet guarantees death,” Patrick said. “It takes less than ten micrograms of europium to cause death in the infected.”
Feeling lightheaded, Bruce stumbled back into a counter. “Holy shit! That’s equivalent to VX for humans,” he gasped.
“VX only has effect after long exposure to the infected,” Patrick said looking around at the others.
“You fucked with VX here?” Carl shouted.
Nodding, “We were trying all avenues of eradication,” Patrick stammered. “It took six hours of continuous exposure to VX before the infected subject died.”
“Shit, that’s the most deadly stuff known to mankind!” Carl shouted, looking around for gas cylinders. “A drop the size of a needlepoint will kill hundreds in minutes!”
“Carl!” Bruce shouted startling everyone. “Shut the fuck up,” he said moving over to Patrick. “How long before death after exposure?” he asked Patrick.
“We shot one in the foot and it took five point three seconds before death,” Patrick said with a worried smile. “In the chest cavity, death in two to three seconds is the norm.” A loud racket erupted near the door and everyone turned to see Gene had fallen to his knees with a look of shock, knocking over a stack of boxes.
Grabbing Patrick’s shirt, Bruce pulled him closer, “You better not be shitting me,” he warned. “I’ll throw you out of the chopper on the ride home.”
Shaking his head rapidly, “N-n-no, I wouldn’t do that,” he stuttered. “Once the europium is in the system, the effects are near instantaneous. They may not drop dead like people do in the movies, but the infected get much slower until death takes them seconds later.”
Letting go of Patrick’s shirt, Bruce looked behind him at the glass box. “None of this is in your computers. Why should we believe you?” he asked, praying Patrick was right.
“We couldn’t put it in the computers,” Patrick said stepping back. “The only project Homeland and the CDC were pushing forward was behavior modification of the infected to get them to fight for us. The project leader who discovered this was shot.”
Bruce felt the world spinning, “You mean, they killed the man who discovered this?”
“Yes, Bruce,” Patrick said as Bruce looked at him. “I’ve seen you on the broadcast. I worked with your wife, Stephanie, in Atlanta. Not like in her lab, but I knew her.”
Walking over to a sink, Bruce took off his helmet, goggles, throat mic, gloves and ear piece. Turning on the water, Bruce dunked his head under the stream. Slinging his head back and wiping his face off, “So, you know Sandy?” he asked.
“Yes,” Patrick said with a frown. “She left some time ago and we fear she is de
ad.”
“No, she’s not,” Bruce said putting his gear back on feeling better. “She never said anything about this.”
“She’s alive?!” Patrick shouted with a grin. Bruce just stared at him with a blank face. “Sorry,” Patrick mumbled. “This was only discovered a month ago.”
Struggling to stand up, “Why in the hell do you have it inside a glass box? Is it that deadly to us?” Gene asked moving over.
“Oh no, europium isn’t harmful to us,” Patrick said looking back at Gene. “We keep it in an atmosphere box because it reacts to the air rather fast. Oxidized europium will kill the infected, but not as fast.”
Looking down at his radio, Bruce made sure it was in push to talk, then turned it off. “Radios off,” he said looking around. With questioning stares, the others turned off their radios. “Patrick, what do you mean by oxidized europium doesn’t kill them as fast?”
“It takes twice as long to kill an infected.”
Shaking his head, “So, you mean if I shoot one in the chest, it takes six seconds to die instead of two or three?” Bruce asked and Patrick nodded.
Strolling over to the counter, Bruce grabbed a loaded magazine, “Where are the blues kept here?” he asked, ejecting his magazine and putting the altered bullets in.
“Ah, Bruce?” Carl said numbly, “Team Two killed all of them, like they were told to.”
“Shit!” Bruce yelled, kicking the counter. “There are billions of them but when I want one, you just can’t find one!”
“I can show you the data,” Patrick offered moving toward the wall, only to have Ted grab his arm.
“How many more of your group knows of this research?” Bruce asked as he started closing ammo cans.
“Two, besides myself,” Patrick answered.
Standing up, “You aren’t to talk about this with anyone. Do I make myself clear?” Bruce told him and Patrick nodded. “After I see if it works, then we’ll tell others.”
“Oh, it works,” Patrick said smiling.
“No offense, but I want to see this magic,” Bruce said turning to Carl. “Find something to load this shit on and take it with us.”
Carl took off running as Bruce moved over to Patrick, “Where did you get this europium?”
“From an electronic manufacturer in New Jersey,” Patrick mumbled. “That’s all they had.”
“Anymore here?”
“Yes, sir,” Patrick said, pointing to a cabinet on the other side of the room. “We’ve got twenty-kilos of it.”
“Gene,” Bruce said, looking up and turning on his radio. “Lips sealed about this,” he said, walking away from them and keying his radio, “Jake.”
“What the hell did you find in that damn room?” Jake shouted.
“Shut it, son,” Bruce snapped. “Can you call me on my cellphone and encrypt it, so only you can hear me?”
“Ah, yeah, but why?” Jake asked.
“Just do it now!” Bruce shouted as Carl came in pushing a loading cart. Hearing his phone ring, Bruce answered it and quickly told Jake what they found out. “Son, you keep this to yourself, understand? I don’t want anyone getting false hopes that we have a chance in this war. If it works, we will let others know, understand?” Bruce said as he finished.
“Holy shit,” Jake mumbled. “Yeah Dad, I got it, keep my trap shut.”
“Very good,” Bruce said with a sigh. “Now, I want you to get your cyber ninjas to find stockpiles of this stuff and have me a list before I get back.”
Panting over the phone, “I’ll find every stockpile on the earth,” Jake said.
“Bruce,” Gene said behind him.
“Got to go, son. Now get to it,” Bruce said hanging up.
“Choppers are twenty out,” Gene said as Bruce put his cellphone up.
Seeing Carl pull the loaded cart over, Bruce looked at Patrick, “Research?”
Patrick moved over to a counter and opened a cabinet, pulling out a laptop and a briefcase. “Right here,” he said holding it up.
“Ted, don’t let anything happen to him,” Bruce said, moving over to help Carl. “If he’s lying, I’m throwing him off the chopper for giving me false hope.”
Walking over and grabbing Patrick, “Dude, I pray you’re right because if you are, we can win this war,” Ted told him, dragging him out the door.
“I am, that’s why I continued the research on delivery systems,” Patrick said as Ted pulled him along. “I know the only way we have a hope is if we kill them off.”
Stopping at the elevator, Bruce looked over at Patrick, “Sandy is fine. She made it to us when she left here,” Bruce told him.
“Whew,” Patrick said relieved, “I’m glad to hear that. She was the closest to actually developing an immunization.”
Watching the elevator lights as the floors counted off, “What’s your area of specialty?” Bruce asked as the elevator doors opened.
“Molecular and elemental biology,” Patrick said as Bruce and Carl pulled the cart into the elevator.
“Any other areas like yours being hid from those up high?” Bruce asked.
Shrugging his shoulders, “I don’t know, maybe,” Patrick said. “If you were caught pursuing any area other than what was approved, it was a death sentence. I’m sure you can understand why if others did branch off, they wouldn’t talk about it.”
“Yes, I understand,” Bruce said as the doors opened. “I’m going to take care of that.”
As Bruce walked out, several members of Omega came over, pulling out the loaded cart. Walking over toward the crowd, Willie came over, “What the hell took you so long?”
Seeing the people were grouped together for transport, Bruce noticed the soldiers were in separate groups, as was Homeland. Looking over the group, Bruce spotted someone and grinned. Stepping back as Bruce grinned, “Dude, Cook isn’t here with your bags,” Willie said, knowing that grin.
“Oh, that can wait,” Bruce said, walking over to a nice-looking man with black hair and chiseled chin. Stopping beside the kneeling man, “Hello, Agent Hartman,” Bruce said smiling. “You’ve met my wife Stephanie before.”
Looking up at Bruce, Hartman gasped as a wet stain appeared on his pants, “I never hurt her.”
“Oh, I know you didn’t, but you wanted to,” Bruce smiled and the other agents around him scooted away.
“Please, we’ll do whatever you want,” Hartman begged.
Looking away as he grinned, “Yes, you will,” Bruce chuckled as his left foot shot out so fast, Hartman never knew what hit him in the jaw. When Bruce’s foot hit Hartman’s jaw, the agent went airborne, doing a complete flip before landing on his belly unconscious.
Several agents cried out in alarm as did their families in another group. Others shouted words of encouragement for Bruce to continue as Gene ran over. “What the hell did he do to you?” Gene asked, seeing blood pooling under Hartman’s face.
“Pissed me off,” Bruce said walking away. “That one rides with me.”
Chapter 3
When the choppers neared, the bay door was opened and the people were brought out in groups of fifty. As the massive Chinooks landed, the people were herded up the back ramp. Once loaded, the chopper would take off and another would land to be loaded.
“Mike, any blues hearing this shit?” Bruce yelled pressing the mic.
“Oh yes,” Mike answered. “There are several hundred from the south coming, but you should be one state away before they get there. The snow is really making it difficult on them.”
“Anything closer?” Bruce asked as a chopper took off and another landed.
“Yes, but the Apaches are taking care of them,” Mike told him. “If you’re out of there in the next twenty minutes, you won’t even see a blue.”
“God damn it, I need to see one!” Bruce screamed.
Several seconds went by, “Brother, we’ve seen plenty. Why do you want to see one now all of a sudden?” Mike asked.
“I’ll tell you when we get home,”
Bruce snapped as another chopper landed. Looking up in the night sky, Bruce could see the choppers hovering around the compound. Forty giant Chinooks with a bunch of Blackhawks and Apaches, then he saw his big Super Stallion hovering off to the side. Impressed, Bruce watched the choreographed evacuation.
Gene walked up behind him, “We are about ready to go, only two more loads,” he yelled over the noise.
“Good, I hate this place,” Bruce yelled back. “Don’t forget the cart, Patrick and Hartman are riding with us.”
Nodding, “We will be the last to leave,” Gene told him as the last two choppers sat down.
As the last two Chinooks took off, the Super Stallion eased over and set down. After all the choppers that had landed, the Super Stallion landed on concrete; all the snow had been blown away.
They pushed the cart over and unloaded it as Jake closed the bay door remotely from the base. With everything loaded, Carl threw Agent Hartman in the chopper. Patrick jumped in and moved to a seat as Ted leaned over, buckling him in. “Don’t get up until we land,” Ted shouted as Gene and Bruce climbed in.
Their feet were barely off the ground when the chopper lifted off. Taking his helmet off, Bruce grabbed a flight helmet and plugged it in, as Gene threw Bruce’s chute on the floor and sat down. “Steve, is that you up there?” Bruce asked after getting the flight helmet on.
“Who else would it be?” Steve answered. “Nobody but me flies my Dad.”
Grinning, “How are the choppers holding up?” Bruce asked, sitting down next to Gene.
“Everyone’s doing great. A few cases of people getting wore out, but that’s it. The Apaches just left for refueling since they all have to land. The rest of us will refuel inflight,” Steve said as Bruce leaned over, looking at the window.
The sky to the east was starting to get brighter and the clouds were breaking up. “Steve, at daybreak, I want you to find me some blues,” Bruce told him.
“Dad, why the sudden urge to see blues?”
Blue Plague: Hope: Book Seven Page 3