“And that’s why and how this ended up being the last place on Earth from which we could operate those systems.” The Colonel crossed his arms and waited for the barrage of questions.
“What happened to those other places? Florida and Houston. Vandenberg?”
“Gone,” Dale told him. “Gone like just about everything else.” His eyelids went wide. “Oh, there are still some facilities. I told you before that far more people survive than you think. If anything, I was lowballing the number of people just here in the city. We might have 20,000 now, I suspect. More come in from the wilderness every day. You’ve seen them trickling in. I’ve heard stories of how your little safe houses with the combinations posted on doors have saved a hundred lives or more. There are people in this city who owe you their lives and would like to thank you if they only knew who to thank.”
“What places are left? Military bases?”
“Yes. Mainly Air Force bases. Ironically, they ended up being the ones who weathered it best.” He considered. “Of course you can’t keep modern aircraft flying when the parts are so precious and so impossible to reproduce. Once again, it’s what I’ve been saying all along about what we’ve lost and what we need to preserve and regain.”
“There are still aircraft? I haven’t heard a plane or copter in the sky in almost two years,” Ron said.
The Colonel nodded to him. “They’re still there. Not many of them, but they are around. Fuel is precious, but we even still pump oil. It’s just almost impossible to convert it to high quality fuel, now. We have to husband what we have.”
“That why you cleared the runways at Douglas?”
“You noticed that. I thought you did.”
“When are they coming?” Ron asked.
Dale sighed and rubbed at his eyes. “Not for a while, yet. Maybe before the year is out. If not then, then next year. Everything depends on what goes on here, in this building. And it all depends on that one man on whom so much depends. And I’m not talking about me. If something happens to me, it’s no big deal. But if anything happens to Stan Lieber, the whole plan is ruined.”
“And what plan would that be?”
The fans in the vents above them sighed sweet air.
“The plan to recover the world,” Dale said.
**
Out on the street again, the sun had warmed the air and the chilly edge was gone. It almost seemed like summer was back. Bugs flashed on the wind and there was a clatter of wings as some dragonflies blasted past them on their way to feast on gnats or mosquitoes somewhere else.
“That was great,” Oliver said. “I was just a kid the last time I had ice cream.”
“Seems like I was too,” Jean told him. She wanted to rub the top of his head, but the boy already had a cap pulled tightly down. Instead, she made do with patting him on the back. “I wonder if we can go back there some time,” she said.
“I wouldn’t count on it,” Ron told them. He looked back to see the disappointed reaction on Oliver’s face. “They just let us in there to show us that they’re trying to get things back to the way they used to be,” Ron continued. “Maybe we’ll have electric power again and refrigerators and cows and farms, the works. If that ever happens, then we can have ice cream any time we want it.”
“Yeah, I guess so,” Oliver said. He was still thinking of the meal, of the comfort he had experienced in the great tower. The people he and Jean had gone with had taken them to a room that had a television and a DVD player. “It was weird, though,” he continued.
“What was weird?” Ron asked, taking his eyes from the boy and scanning the streets. These days the deaders weren’t the problem they’d once been, but other things had begun to crop up. Wild dogs and coyotes were bolder than ever, and he was pretty sure he’d spotted a mountain lion from the roof one day. It had moved off quickly before he could get a good look through his scope, but he was certain that he’d glimpsed the form of a very big cat moving through an alleyway. It had probably come in to stalk one of the almost endless herds of white-tail deer that moved in and out of the city every few days.
“One of the ladies—her name was Wilhelmina—let me watch cartoons on a DVD player. Spongebob and Bugs Bunny. But I wasn’t interested. I thought I wanted to see that stuff, but when it started, it just made me sad,” he admitted. “I guess I’m too old for that stuff now.”
“I reckon you are,” Ron told him. In fact, the kid was more interested in how to apply flux to molten lead when they were making bullets than in looking at the comic books Ron had found in a dry closet on a scrounging run. He’d brought the big sack of old comics home with him for Oliver and initially the boy had enjoyed them. But in the past few weeks, things like that didn’t interest him so much. In a year or so, Ron was hoping, maybe things would be so close to right that there would be schools again. And girls for Oliver to meet. He would be hitting that age in a year or two.
“Eyes front.” It was Jean. A line of figures was moving down a side street and coming in their general direction.
As soon as she’d said the words, Ron and Oliver had gone into a crouch, their hands on weapons.
“Don’t do anything rash,” Jean continued. “They’re not deaders.”
Almost as if to prove her words, a group of five people came out into the street. They immediately noticed Ron and company and they stopped, waving a greeting, and then moved on.
“That was…” Jean was searching her memory for a name.
“Davis Tucker,” he finished for her. “The others with him were his cousin Alma, and that fat kid from Gastonia—Henry. Forget his last name. I don’t know the other two. Newcomers, maybe?”
“More of those every day,” Oliver said. “Maybe things really are going to get back to normal. You think so?”
Ron smiled at both Oliver and Jean. “I really do,” he said. “I think Colonel Dale and his folk are going to set things to rights.”
With that, they moved south, to make a quick scavenging run, and then back to their home.
**
High above, eyes looked down on them.
The others were not paying him any mind. They had come to spy on him. He knew.
They thought that they were oh-so-smart, but he was on to them.
But he’d left them to talk and putter about in his house—those four floors of the Trust Building were his, by God, no matter what they said—and now he had this south-facing office to himself.
Lieber had spotted the woman who had come up to the 30th Floor with the man with the limp. And the boy who was far too young to have been her child, but which dogged her like a trusting pup. Stan, however, had paid close attention to the woman. She was gorgeous. Through the layers of clothes she wore, he made out that figure, the fullness of it. No clothes could hide it effectively. And her face! One look at her and he was instantly in love.
Love at first sight. Stan Lieber believed in that. He’d always believed in that. It was what made the world go round, he knew. And seeing her was the first thing in months that had made him forget the last woman whose face had stopped him in his tracks that way.
Alone, he peered through the high-powered scope and watched her. He focused the eyepiece and looked at the way her chest moved when she breathed. Stan saw the power of her thighs when she walked and crouched. The hair that was not covered by her hat was gold, like sunlight. It would be soft under his caressing touch.
Slowly, he pulled the packet of pills that Colonel Alastair Dale had brought for him. With a sneer he pushed the bottle back into his pocket.
He knew what they were doing. He knew what they were up to.
Someday soon, he would sit with this Jean, and he would talk with her about how much he loved her. Together, they would be happy.
The End
Part 3 coming soon from www.severedpress.com
Read on for a free sample of Contaminated By Suzanne Robb
Dr. Arthur Covington may hold the key to the most important discovery in the history of
humankind. He is, however, not the only interested party.
If he is to survive treachery and attempts on his life in his bid to escape a secure, high-tech facility, he will have to rely on others - but who can he trust?
Underground, an explosion rocks the facility. Someone drops a viral agent.
In a new world where none can be trusted, Covington's life hangs in the balance. It's a race against time...and the end of the world...because it's not just the living he has to fight against. The dead are rising. Dead men walk the halls below the earth, and the only thing keeping him from being contaminated is his gas mask...and it won't last forever.
Prologue –
January 24, 2017
Dr. Arthur Covington watched with rapt attention as the arm of the rover unfolded and twisted its metal hand downwards. The claw-like fingers opened and closed around an odd looking rock the doctor had been eyeing for the last five days. Rotating once more, the arm retracted while it dumped the sample into a two foot by two foot metal bin attached to the rear.
Arthur sighed in relief. Only a few more, and the probe would be packed up, ready to return to Earth. He ran a hand through his thinning blond hair and decided he should shower when he felt how slick it was. When was the last time he’d had one? He couldn’t remember. Eternal darkness and watching a theater-sized screen day and night threw him off.
“Any other rocks you want me to wrangle, Dr. Covington?” Matt Ballard asked from his desk, control stick in hand.
“Not for me, you can roam around and see if there’s anything interesting. I’m going to start filing today’s report.”
Matt ignored his departure, but Arthur didn’t notice. There were things to do, supplies to order, machines to update, funding to beg for, a spectrum of tests, he needed permission to run, and then there were the officials to bribe, so the space rocks would clear decontamination in a timely manner.
The hallways were narrow in the observation building, not to mention how low the ceiling was. Ever since the United States cancelled their space program, people like him had to rely on the goodness of other countries to launch research probes. In most cases, greed was the final denominator. Arthur had spent every last cent to get this mission off the ground.
Now, holed up in a decrepit warehouse in the middle of nowhere Russia, he hoped he’d made the right decision. The Pluto Endeavor cost him his marriage, kids, and reputation, though he knew when the rover returned, those in the scientific community would beg for his forgiveness. They would plead with him to take them on as assistants. They would say any position would be fine.
Smiling, Arthur opened the door to his “office” as he thought of telling them all no. To say they weren’t good enough for his team. So caught up in his musings, he didn’t see the man sitting in his chair or the slab of a man with no neck to his right.
“Dr. Covington, how are you?” asked a monotone voice from behind the desk.
Arthur stopped in his tracks. Who the hell was this guy? No one was allowed in his office. He’d have to talk to Dmitri about security, again.
“Who are you? This office is off limits.” Arthur tried to put as much bravado into his voice as possible, but inside his bladder was quaking.
A meaty paw reached out and led Arthur to his own guest chair. He sat with reluctance, afraid of the strength he felt in the hand on his shoulder.
This was it, he thought. They’re just going to take my research and bury me in a pile of snow somewhere, dammit.
“My name is irrelevant, but the company I work for might be of interest to you, Sunset Incorporated?” the well-manicured man said with a raised eyebrow.
Arthur almost bit his tongue in half. Sunset Inc. was the most cutting edge place a scientist could hope to work for in their wildest dreams. The man across from him was no scientist though, more of a businessman/henchman, emphasis on the hench. His suit was well cut, as was his hair, and he lacked the haggard expression people in Arthur’s profession developed after reading one too many periodicals. Not to mention his tan, no scientist worth anything saw daylight if they wanted to be published and funded these days.
“Of course, I’ve heard of them, but why are you here? I wrote your company almost a dozen letters, none of them answered,” Arthur responded indignantly.
The man nodded, as he pulled out a wad of papers and placed them on the desk. Arthur recognized his handwriting immediately. A small part of him cringed when he saw some of the later nastier letters he’d sent after too much of the “special vodka.”
“Yes, I’ve read them all. As you know, we recently underwent ‘restructuring.’ The new board is interested in your research. No one has been bold enough to focus on Pluto the way you have. Since it was downgraded from a planet to an asteroid, most people lost interest, but not you.”
Arthur leaned forward. “If it isn’t a planet, then it wasn’t formed. If it wasn’t formed, then it started as something small and has been floating around in space, collecting debris and getting larger and larger. Pluto has enough gravitational pull to maintain three moons. That’s pretty impressive for a non-planet.”
The man sitting at his desk nodded. “We agree. That’s why we’ve decided to fund your research. As we speak, a lab is being built in a secret location with all the bells and whistles. Every last detail is being taken into consideration.”
Arthur sat back, stunned, speechless, and part of him wary of this good news. This was what he wanted. What he’d worked for. Finally, his name would be associated with something great; a lab all his own, where he was in charge. His dream being offered up to him, seemed too good to be true, so there had to be a…
“One catch, Dr. Covington, you can’t tell anyone about this. The probe is scheduled to return in two years. At that time, you will be contacted and taken to the facility with some of the samples. You will run the tests you want, as well as a few for us. Do you agree to these terms?”
Arthur nodded vigorously. His probe had been designed for speed, and used an alternative fuel along with a modified engine that could use combustible space particles to help acceleration. None of which existed when NASA launched their New Horizons probe in 2006.
“I agree to whatever you need.” Arthur would have signed over his soul for an opportunity like this.
The man chuckled, but it was not filled with humor, “Good, I need you to upload all your research and files to this server address.” He tossed a piece of paper onto the desk. “After that, I want you to keep us updated on any advances in the field, additional tests, and to provide images of all the samples that you would like to have, so we can accommodate you as best we can.”
Arthur nodded again, but felt like he resembled an eager dog, so he forced himself to stop. He cleared his throat and pushed an unruly lock of hair behind his ear before speaking.
“Of course, though but why wouldn’t I have all the samples?”
“Dr. Covington.” The man stood. “Some questions are better left unasked. Remember, tell no one, or the deal is void and you go back to being inconsequential.”
The door slammed on the last word and Arthur felt a twinge of worry form in his gut. He waited a moment before standing, in case the men came back to kill him or laugh, because he fell for their joke. Then again, he would deserve it. He didn’t ask for identification, a phone number, or a business card. His obsession with the rocks had a tendency to blind him.
As he rounded the corner of his desk, he found an envelope full of hundred dollar bills. When he finished counting, fifty thousand dollars were lined in neatly stacked one thousand dollar bills. The clock on his desk chimed and the date jumped out at him.
Lisa’s birthday, his little girl, would be turning…eleven? He flipped his computer on and searched for the perfect gift. An hour later, he decided on a pink bike with matching helmet. For Michael, his son, he got a three hundred dollar gift certificate to the electronics store. The last time he spoke with him, the only thing he cared about was 3-D interactive video games.
Mary, his ex-wife, deserved so much more. His kids grew up knowing they couldn’t rely on him. He tried to love them, or show them affection in his own way, but he never seemed to do it right. Mary, on the other hand, met him before the idea of the probe kidnapped his life.
They’d dated for four amazing years and their wedding day was one of the best of his life, second only to when he heard the words “You can send the probe on the next launch, Dr. Covington.”
He sighed, because it was on that day that he lost her. Not many people could pinpoint the exact second their marriage went to hell, but he could. And he wasn’t proud of it. He searched through pages and pages of gift ideas and settled on a large bouquet of flowers. He didn’t think her new husband would appreciate her receiving jewellery from her ex.
With that done, he sat back and enjoyed life for the first time in years. He had money, funding from a respected corporation, and in a couple of years, he would define the cutting edge of science.
Arthur picked up a few stacks of cash and put them in his drawer. The rest, he bundled in an envelope and addressed it to his wife. A scrawled note in his familiar chicken scratch told her to use it for the kid’s college fund.
Finally, he was able to do things for his family, and soon he would get some much deserved respect from the scientific community.
***
Frank Monroe swirled the clear liquid in the glass he held. The world’s best vodka, his contact told him. Perhaps, but he’d rather be drinking a 100 year old scotch and enjoying a cigar in his study than freezing his ass off in this barren tundra. His phone chirped and he answered it.
“He agreed,” Frank said, knowing who was on the other end.
The Coalition: Part II The Lord Of The Living (COALITON OF THE LIVING Book 2) Page 11