Harrison knew he didn’t have a moment to spare. He drew his pistol and fired twice into the ceiling.
The chaos paused and turned his way.
He removed his helmet so everyone could see his face. He raised his voice so it carried with clear authority across the communal hall.
‘I want the five most senior staff members in the antechamber in one minute! I want all the wounded stabilized and moved to the medical clinic. I want hardcopy blueprints of the Evacuation Center, and every structural and mechanical engineer to start sealing off any points the creatures could access, including the top-deck doors. I want a communication system update and a list of all the missing and injured.’
Harrison raised his voice even further, almost hollering, leaving no doubt that until he said otherwise, he was in charge.
‘My name is Corporal David Harrison, United States Marine Corps Fleet Anti-terrorism Security Team. I’ll expect status reports in five minutes.’
And with that, after a moment’s stunned silence, people started moving with purpose.
Fortunately, Harrison had every kind of professional available at his disposal. Private Sullivan coordinated the sealing-off of places the creatures might try to gain access.
As the most senior staff member still alive, Dana Lantry proved the biggest help. A linguist fluent in four languages, the British communications officer worked through the task-teams, getting status reports and ensuring the right people worked on Harrison’s orders. Dana’s had been one of the voices calling for order during the earlier chaos, but now people listened. She quickly provided Harrison the facility’s blueprints and allocated a team to attempt a remote shut down of the C-Guard jamming transmitters.
Group hysteria had passed, but it wasn’t far away. Crying and screaming from the medical clinic lessened as drugs kicked in.
Harrison was double-checking the blueprints to make sure he hadn’t missed anything. He couldn’t afford to overlook even a single access point. If the creatures found a way inside the Evacuation Center, the evacuees would be slaughtered.
He keyed his radio. ‘Sullivan, how’s the top-deck coming?’
Sullivan’s reply sounded breathless from exertion. ‘Nearly done, but I don’t know how we can seal off the ventilation shaft and still expect to breathe.’
Harrison knew what he meant. Without any information on the outside situation, they were in a difficult position to be making decisions. Were the creatures waiting up on the helicopter pad for the evacuees to emerge, or was the top-deck a viable escape route if the creatures compromised the Center elsewhere? If they completely sealed off the ventilation shaft, would help arrive before they needed to reopen the shaft to breathe? Harrison had to keep making decisions, even without the information.
‘Shut it down,’ he decided firmly. ‘I don’t want any surprises. Get an engineering team over there and do whatever you can to seal it.’
‘Copy that.’ Sullivan spoke quickly to someone in the background. ‘We’re finishing up here now. En route to the ventilation shaft.’
Harrison removed his radio headset as he heard a strange scraping noise from the evacuation tunnel.
He lifted his rifle from where it rested close-to-hand on the table.
Moving to the antechamber’s sliding plexiglass wall, he peered down the tunnel and listened. The tunnel looked like a two-lane underground traffic channel. A single row of fluorescent ceiling lights stretched from the antechamber to the containment door. A small section down the far end of the tunnel was dark. Harrison couldn’t remember that section being dark earlier. The tunnel’s light switches were in his antechamber. The main Complex had no control of any of the Center’s facilities.
At a glance, he could see that the light switch was on, so it had to be a faulty pair of fluorescent bulbs. At the far end of the tunnel, a spinning orange emergency light set above the containment door illuminated the darkened section every few seconds.
Harrison watched the hypnotizing light sweep over the dark slab of the containment door.
Behind that door, God only knew what was happening. He wasn’t receiving any responses to his radio messages. No one answered the Complex’s internal telephones or intercoms.
Harrison had to assume he and Sullivan were alone.
A large red button was recessed into the table where Harrison stood. The button controlled the plexiglass wall. If he hit that button, the entire wall would slide away and expose the antechamber to the tunnel. Harrison flipped up the protective lid, but hesitated.
After a moment’s indecision he thumped the button. He reasoned that anything that could breach the steel containment door could also easily breach the plexiglass.
As the barrier slid away, he heard the noise again. A scraping sound, and definitely coming from the tunnel.
He stepped cautiously into the tunnel, turning his head to pinpoint the source.
SCREEEEEECH!
There it is again.
Harrison directed his flashlight beam down the tunnel. It looked all-clear, but was he overlooking something? Some access hatch or maintenance conduit that led into the tunnel?
Something moved in his peripheral vision.
He almost whipped his weapon around to fire before he realized it was just a child. The boy stared silently down the evacuation tunnel. Harrison hadn’t heard the kid cross the antechamber. He must have slipped away from the communal hall.
The boy whispered something too quietly for Harrison to hear. Harrison wasn’t sure the boy even spoke English.
He squatted beside the boy, trying to seem friendly and reassuring. ‘Sorry? What did you say?’
The boy’s voice quavered slightly louder. ‘What are they?’
‘Oh, right,’ realized Harrison. ‘I’m not sure what they are.’
The boy looked about eight or nine years old. His straight brown hair was cropped short over large ears. He was thin, all elbows and knees. He stared at Harrison’s assault rifle. ‘Are you going to shoot them if they come?’
‘Yes.’
‘All of them?’
‘Every single one.’
‘Do you have enough bullets?’
Harrison smiled at the question. To a kid, that was all that mattered – just having enough bullets. Like the creatures would approach single file and wait for their chance to get shot. Harrison tried to look tough. ‘Plenty of bullets.’ He tapped the spare ammunition magazines on his body armor.
The kid nodded wisely. ‘That’s good.’
Harrison wondered about the kid’s parents.
‘What’s your name?’
‘David.’
‘David what?’
‘David Sharp.’
Harrison tried to remember the name ‘Sharp’ from the list Dana had provided of the missing and injured. The name sounded familiar.
‘What are your parents’ names?’
‘My mom works here. Her name’s Vanessa.’
Harrison frowned. She was definitely on the list. Dana had made special mention of Vanessa Sharp being missing. The list of missing and wounded showed an obvious pattern. Mostly staff from the lower engineering and research levels hadn’t reached the evacuation tunnel. Not a single person had escaped the basement level alive. David’s mother probably worked on the lower levels.
He noticed the boy was holding something. A bag of marbles. In all the terror, the boy had saved his precious marbles. His grip squeezed white-hot around the brown vinyl marble bag.
Harrison nodded to the marbles. ‘You got some good ones in there, huh?’
‘Yeah.’ David nodded distractedly, perhaps going into delayed shock at what he had seen. ‘They were in my pocket. My dad gave them to me.’
‘Hey – look at me!’ snapped Harrison. ‘I’m going to get you out of here. That’s my job, and I’m very, very good at it.’
‘I know,’ said David. ‘My dad’s a Marine. He’s a Captain.’
‘Really? What’s his name? Maybe I know him.’
&n
bsp; ‘Alex Coleman.’
Harrison was staggered. He knew Coleman had a son, and his ex-wife was a scientist, but here? ‘You’re father is Alexander Coleman?’
‘Do you know him?’
Harrison didn’t know what to say. Clearly the boy didn’t know Coleman was here in the Complex. Had been here, Harrison corrected.
Harrison stammered, ‘Yes, I know him. Sure.’
David looked relieved, as though Harrison wasn’t going to believe that his father really was a Marine. Harrison felt a wave of pity sweep over him for the boy. The gravity of what they faced struck home again. He felt like he would have done anything to save the boy the pain that was coming. At least he was safe. He wondered what the boy had been through in the last hour.
Harrison asked, ‘How’d you get here? Where were you when the alarm sounded?
‘In the reserve,’ explained David. ‘We came out and ran towards the movie cinemas. Then we tried to run through the hub, but….’
‘But?’
‘They were already in there, you know.’ David nodded his head at the containment door. He ran his hand from his shoulder to his hip. ‘In the cafeteria, I saw a lady with one around here. It came up from under the table. Somebody was hitting it with a chair.’
Harrison met the boy’s eyes. ‘I bet they were. Sounds like you have some brave people working here.’
Harrison imagined taking on the creatures armed with a cafeteria chair. He couldn’t even imagine how a scene like that would affect this kid in the long run. Coleman’s kid, Harrison reminded himself.
‘You better get back inside,’ urged Harrison, squeezing David’s shoulder and steering him back towards the antechamber. ‘I’m going to come and talk to you later.’
‘Wait,’ said David, resisting Harrison’s gentle push. ‘Can’t I just wait here with you?’
Harrison was about to agree, just for a minute longer, but the noise in the corridor came again. It was the same noise, but louder.
David tensed, his little hands clutching his marble bag.
‘Go back with the others,’ barked Harrison, shoving David towards the antechamber. ‘Go!’
As David ran through the antechamber, Harrison turned to squarely face the noise. He raised his assault rifle and panned the sights across the breadth of the tunnel. He clicked off the CMAR-17’s safety lever and dropped his index finger to the trigger.
Cautiously, he began walking down the tunnel.
#
‘Gould’s involvement explains a lot,’ reasoned Coleman. ‘It explains the gunmen in the Complex, and it explains how they know more about the creatures than we do.’
‘How so?’ asked Vanessa.
‘Because Gould and the gunmen are working together.’
Vanessa looked confused. ‘How could you know that?’
Coleman took a slow, deep breath. He was about to break some rules. ‘I know that because this Complex has been the focus of a domestic anti-terrorism intelligence operation for the last eighteen months.’
Her jaw dropped. Coleman could already see her forming a protest.
‘Just hear me out,’ he insisted. ‘I didn’t know until recently, and the investigation had nothing to do with you personally. The United States Military has never been happy with the special legislation afforded this Complex. You have a security system we know nothing about, a huge international research staff, an undisclosed budget, and the ability to conduct genetic research in the absence of independent monitoring -’
Her expression said she’d heard it all before, so Coleman jumped ahead.
‘These factors alone precipitated a GPS, a general personnel sweep. What you might call a closer inspection of the people who work here. That’s how we turned up Gould. Close surveillance of Gould in the last five months uncovered his relationship with the mercenary terrorist Cameron Cairns.’
She shrugged vaguely. ‘Should I know the name?’
Coleman raised his eyebrow. ‘I know this isn’t your area anymore, but he’s one of the five most wanted men in the world.’
‘What’s he done?’
‘Let me ask you a question. What do the following countries have in common: China, India, Syria, Iran, Pakistan, Russia, North Korea, Cuba, Saudi Arabia, Egypt, Malaysia -’
‘Okay. I got it,’ she cut in. ‘All those countries have anti-American agendas. A few of them possess advanced biological weapons programs that we aren’t comfortable with.’
‘Bingo,’ confirmed Coleman. ‘But none of them are powerful enough to challenge the United States directly. So how do they implement their agendas?’
She shrugged. ‘You tell me.’
‘Terrorism,’ declared Coleman flatly. ‘Terrorism is the latest strategy for rival nations to launch attacks without openly declaring war. Never before have smaller countries been able to act without fear of retribution or provocation. This is Cairns’s sphere of operation. He’s become the perfect tool for planning and implementing operations that governments could never openly condone.’
Vanessa was struggling to take it all in. ‘So Cairns works for one of these governments?’
‘Or a group of them,’ corrected Coleman. ‘Recent intelligence suggests that a string of terrorist operations in the last four years have been exceedingly well funded and professionally orchestrated. They’ve been far too professional. And they have all been geared towards strategically destabilizing the United States’ position as a world power. So strategic, in fact, they can only be the result of several countries sharing intelligence and resources. These operations haven’t blown up embassies or taken hostages or made traditional terror-inspiring gestures. Their goal was to shift power away from the U.S. and damage our international reputation. The operations always coincide with key international negotiations to destabilize our footing while empowering our opponents.’
‘This is incredible,’ Vanessa said. ‘You’re suggesting that a group of countries are waging war against America in the guise of terrorism? Which countries?’
‘It’s not that easy,’ Coleman said. ‘Some countries might not even know they’re involved. Factions of their political system or military might be contributors without their senior administrators ever knowing. In the last two years, these professional terrorist operations have targeted one chemical and one nuclear research facility. We believe Cameron Cairns orchestrated both attacks. In both instances, technology was stolen before the facilities were permanently incapacitated. That stolen technology has turned up twice in the hands of our rivals.’
Vanessa shook her head in astonishment. She repeated softly, ‘Stealing technology to destabilize America….’
Coleman nodded. ‘That’s why FAST became involved. Our job is to protect strategic installation and assets from terrorist attack. We’ve had to dramatically revise our thinking about what constitutes terrorism. These aren’t extremists with homemade bombs; these are representatives of some of the most highly trained military units in the world. And this is where Cairns comes in. If all those contributing countries needed a General to oversee and advise on these types of operations, that man would be Cameron Cairns.’
‘Alright,’ said Vanessa, raising both hands. ‘I understand - Cairns is one bad son-of-a-bitch. But that doesn’t prove he’s here working with Gould. There’s a long history of trusted insiders stealing research for profit. How can we be sure this isn’t all the work of Francis Gould?’
Coleman understood her reluctance to accept his explanation. He continued, ‘We think Cairns recruited Francis Gould to develop new biological weapons. Every one of Cairns’s operations used an inside source. Always someone who worked there. He’s targeted one chemical facility, one nuclear facility, and now he’s in the most advanced biological research facility on the face of the planet.’
Vanessa shook her head in incredulous amazement. ‘You’re suggesting that this anti-American group of governments has been implementing a biological weapons development program on U.S. soil through Francis Goul
d? In my facility?’
Coleman nodded towards the creature. ‘Well, what would you call it?’
‘Okay. Good point,’ she conceded. ‘So why was Gould allowed to keep working here? Why wasn’t he arrested and charged?’
‘Because we needed more information. We aren’t even sure what countries are involved. We didn’t know what kind of weapons Gould agreed to make. Or where they planned to use them. Or how close Gould was to finishing. Cairns is an experienced counter-intelligence operative, but Gould is unaccustomed to intelligence operations. If we watched Gould, we had a better chance of learning the truth.’
Vanessa nodded as she grasped the logic of the operation. ‘So you let Gould continue working, hoping that in the meantime your intelligence network will uncover the scope of the terrorists’ plan.’
Coleman nodded. ‘Until Gould stole your genetic templates. That’s a big risk on his part if he hasn’t finished whatever he was making for the terrorists, which means he must already be finished. Gould left here with nothing but the paper smock he was wearing. So whatever he was working on, whatever he had done with your genetic templates, was still here somewhere in the Complex. That acted as an operational catalyst. It sent us into a scrambling rush to secure this facility and find out.’
‘How can you be sure Cameron Cairns is in charge of these gunmen?’ repeated Vanessa. ‘If what you’re saying is true, a lot of countries could be responsible. Have you seen Cairns here?’
‘I recognized one of his men upstairs,’ answered Coleman. ‘The man we encountered in the pool room was Lieutenant Krisko ‘Bora’ Borivoj. Bora was a lieutenant in a special branch of the Czech military suspected of state-sponsored terrorism. Bora works directly under Cameron Cairns. He’s the only man that Cairns trusts. My suspicion is that Cairns is coordinating the operation from the administration hub while Bora acts as his attack-dog on the ground.’
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