The other part of Captain Schneider’s reporting that was so interesting was the American prisoner, Julie’s story. In direct defiance of instructions from a man named “John” in the White House situation room, SOCOM had covertly arranged to bring Julie, and samples of the virus, back to the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention (CDC) main laboratories in Atlanta, Georgia. Captain Schneider had accompanied her and had written his report while remaining at the CDC. In addition to the antibodies found to be in Julie’s blood, the terrorist scientist had made remarkable progress in developing a vaccine to the altered, more potent virus, using his expertise in nanotechnology areas. All of his notes were found on his laptop computer, which had also been brought with Julie to Atlanta. Precious hours were saved because he had written all of his notes in English. Despite the virus having penetrated many of the laboratories at the CDC and infecting several of their scientists, they believed it had been contained. Also, progress was being made toward formulating the vaccine. Two possible strains of vaccine had been identified as being at least partially effective against the virus. Testing was ongoing using CDC staff to take care of co-workers afflicted with the virus. They should know if either of them might be effective within about four days and a limited production run of the vaccine would be started.
Katherine found almost gallows humor in thinking that her information about the virus and progress in creating a vaccine had come from one of the disloyal, murderous cretins in the military. She was their Commander-in-Chief, so they owed her that loyalty, even if she didn’t want them in her home.
It had taken Burt only ten minutes to identify John in the Situation Room and have him interviewed by Secret Service security. He had cracked after only twenty minutes of interrogation. His demand to have his attorney present was denied based upon Katherine’s Emergency Declaration. After confessing, John had then whined continuously about only trying to protect the President from all the “China bashers,” that kept trying to foment revolt in the country.
Katherine’s tirade to Susan and Burt about the incompetence that surrounded her had lasted for over fifteen minutes. Half way through it, Burt decided it was far past time to implement his exit strategy. He would tell his assistant he needed to go home briefly to get his wife and some clothes. When he got there, he would ditch his Secret Service transport, load his wife, two cats, his illegal pistol and some food into his SUV and strike out for the little lodge in West Virginia where they occasionally spent a get-a-way weekend. He’d be sure to take an extra gas mask to protect his wife and hope the cats would survive any exposure to the virus.
Chapter 63
The New Year - plus Sixty Days
Peter Worthington’s Residence
Outside Cronin, Kentucky
1800 Hours EST
Mike felt amazed and blessed to be sitting down to the table with Lauren, Peter and Liz, and the two incredible young ladies, Lisa and Suzie. When he and Lauren had arrived at Peter’s house more than a week ago, Peter had introduced them to Lisa and Suzie with the admonition, “Here are two young ladies that are under my care and protection. Their presence here is to be kept completely confidential until such time as they decide that is no longer necessary. From the looks of things, that may come sooner rather than later. Until then, please ask them no questions and just know that they are family friends of mine that can be trusted completely. Are you both okay with that?”
Although surprised, both Mike and Lauren had nodded their heads yes. Mike said nothing about recalling that Lisa was probably the daughter of Peter’s FBI friend, Hugh McIntyre. Since then, Mike had gleaned that both girls were in the genius category of intelligence, with educations involving at least one doctorate. Both were also incredibly bored, although Suzie did seem to enjoy peppering him with questions concerning American history, political theory and the Founding Fathers of the United States. It was quite obvious Suzie was Chinese, which only added to the mystery of how she ended up at Peter’s home. In assessing Suzie and her questions, Mike could see that for most professors, she would have been very intimidating. Fortunately, Mike had some understanding and a great appreciation for those that were mentally gifted and did not try to either keep up with her nor did he discount his own lifetime of experiences. Instead, he tried to steer her in useful directions, the kind he wished he had the time to pursue himself.
Mike recalled it had taken six more days before the Fontaine administration announced to the world that the Chinese government had created a deadly virus, only to have it stolen and altered by Afghan terrorists, who had unleashed it on the world. She tried to sound reassuring that promising efforts were underway at laboratories around the world, the administration recommended everyone stay in their homes for at least a one week period, to avoid spreading the virus further. The lack of power and running water that plagued everyone nationwide would be hardships that must be endured rather than to become infected by venturing out. Mike considered these directions to be “too little, too late.”
With the collapse of the power grid, the country had fallen into anarchy somewhat akin to the horror films about the zombie apocalypse, only this time the zombies were either starving people searching for food and water, those infected with the virus, or both. No power meant no heat, no cooling and no running water. Hospitals and medical centers had been completely overwhelmed, with a majority of their staffs succumbing to the virus. Wherever people gathered, the virus found fertile ground to expand its circle of death. Communications were relegated to either those fortunate enough to have a generator, an alternative power source, battery powered radios and ham radios. TV and regular radio stations had gone off the air the day after the administration’s announcement. Virtually every communication outlet’s staffs either refused to come in or had become victims of the rapidly spreading virus. Panic had erupted, however it had lasted only a couple of days as frightened people huddled in their cold homes.
Linda and Sean’s security team, along with a dozen of the neighborhood security members with protective gear, had taken over guard and patrol duties. So far warning shots had been sufficient to drive off the few cars and people on foot that tried to enter the neighborhood gates. Twice, residents of the neighborhood had to be restrained and prevented from trying to smuggle in relatives or friends. Two days earlier, in Mike’s name Linda had canvassed each house in the neighborhood for their status, number of people in the home, if they had enough food and water, and whether anyone in the house was sick. Of the 250 homes in the neighborhood, less than half had even responded to Linda’s knock. The rest had no sign of life either in or around the home. Six of the residents had reported having at least one person sick in the house, causing Linda to mark the outside of the home with spray paint, similar to what they had done in Europe during the Black Death.
Most of the other homes Linda visited reported having enough food and water to last at least a month. Everyone was starved for news, so she shared what she could, with an emphasis on staying indoors and allowing no one to enter. Of course communicating had been challenging. The batteries on her gas mask voice box had died, but she was able to make herself understood most of the time. These visits prompted Mike to begin sending out a one-page newsletter, Scotch-taped to the window and delivered by a bio-protected security person to each home every other day.
After reporting this information to Mike, Linda returned to Sean’s home, where she and the other operators had jury-rigged a decontamination tent just outside of the back door. He could even see a foot peddle that pumped clean, cold water from a cistern, which she used to wash off her mask and chem/bio suit. It wasn’t perfect, but was much better than nothing. It would at least work until the cistern was empty.
Inside the home Sean was waiting to greet her. His hug and kiss felt like it washed the entire fate of the world from her shoulders. “Anything new over the wires?” S
he asked the question while anticipating more bad news.
Sean said, “SOCOM headquarters seems to be falling like most of the rest of the military. Their staff is down to twenty percent, with no officers left. I’m not sure how much longer they will continue to function. This damned bug seems to be unstoppable.”
Linda gave him another big hug and looked into his eyes with determination.
“Mister, you need to focus. What do you want to see right here right now?”
With a wan chuckle, Sean smiled and said, “You’re right, honey. I want to see everyone here that I care about weathering this storm and building a better world. One not based on hate, greed and the belief that it’s okay to take what someone else made or built.”
“That’s my big guy. Now, does your mom have anything made for dinner? The MRE’s fill the hole, but I love her cooking.” Her smile was infectious, so both trooped into the kitchen to see what was available. Even though there were enough military field rations to feed all of them for a year or more, Sean’s mom had begun filling their basement with long-term food supplies when Sean was only a small boy. Her system of food rotation had been a masterpiece, even if he did eat a lot of canned food past its expiration date. Somehow, she always made sure it was tasty and filling.
Sean sighed wistfully, as they walked into the kitchen, “Man, I miss bread.”
Linda punched him playfully in the side, “It’s full of gluten, you dullard. You know your mom only keeps good stuff.”
Both Sean and Linda suddenly froze and sniffed the air. Wafting into their nostrils was the unmistakable smell of dinner rolls. “Mom?” Sean drew out the question in his amazement. “Where did you find whatever is smelling so wonderful?”
“All you do is work, work, work. You never look in freezer,” she said in her accented voice. So long you keep giving me electricity; we can work on eating up everything in freezer and fridge.”
Sean looked at Linda with a question in his eyes. She responded, “Yesterday, one of your sergeants told me the two-five hundred gallon tanks of propane should last at least six months, if we only operate it six hours per day. The filter for the air intake in the house should remove any of the nasty bugs that might be floating around outside.” Her face turned back into a look of concern. “It’s too bad we can’t use the wood stove. But bringing wood inside is just too dangerous, since it might be carrying the virus.”
Chapter 64
The New Year - Plus Seventy Days
The Presidential Emergency Operations Center (PEOC)
Beneath the East Wing of the White House
1830 Hours EST
Katherine sat in her small office in the PEOC sipping on a glass of fine scotch from one of four bottles that Susan had found in Walter’s bedroom suite upstairs. It had required Katherine’s stern order for the Secret Service security personnel to allow Susan out of the PEOC for this very important mission, and only accompanied by one of the security folks. The entire building above had been completely unguarded for at least the past twenty-four hours as the surviving White House staff had either gotten sick or abandoned their post as the country literally fell apart. Both Susan and her guard had worn gas masks. When Susan found the four bottles of scotch, she gave one to her security escort and, after washing the exterior of the bottles thoroughly, carried them into Katherine’s office.
Throughout the country, all public services had collapsed. No electric power, no running water, and virtually no trucks or cars on the roads as survivors huddled in buildings they hoped would protect them from the insidious bug that no one could see. The few ham and private radio signals flying around the atmosphere described death and what was universally called the apocalypse. The few military units still functioning operated in full chem/bio gear, but struggled to keep things from being contaminated by the virus. They encountered death wherever they went.
“Susan, dear, the CDC says they will be able to send me 1,500 doses of vaccine tomorrow. I need you to make a list of top 1,250 people that are critical to government continuity. And Susan, make sure they are all politically reliable. You know what I mean? Can you do that for me?”
Susan was completely horrified at what she had just heard, but no more so than what she had witnessed over the past several weeks. Katherine had seemed to be losing touch with reality. Two foiled military coups were attempted by generals who felt Katherine was leading everyone to destruction. Other, more politically active generals had stopped the attempts, but they had rattled Katherine badly. The friendly press had, fortunately, refused to report the coup attempts or the few street protests that happened after Katherine’s last address. Homeland Security had squashed the protests quickly and brutally, using techniques reminiscent of those used by the Bolsheviks prior to WWII, minus the mounted sabre charges. All news reporting had ceased two days after Katherine’s last public address.
Susan and Marc had been part of the essential staff brought into the PEOC. Twice the number of people were jammed into the PEOC than it was designed to house. With Burt’s disappearance, Katherine had designated Marc as her acting Chief of Staff and her communications director, while Susan delivered some, if not all of Katherine’s edicts to the rest of the staff. Almost as soon as everyone was directed to the PEOC Towanda had been bound and gagged by the security staff for her constant loud and outrageous demands. After three days she requested to leave. Katherine had willingly granted that request. Most of the rest of the leadership in the government had gone to either the Capital building or the Pentagon, where the virus had penetrated and had begun to infect those inside. With news outlets down, the only information available was coming in from the military, which was itself, being decimated.
. . .
Home outside of Frankfort, Kentucky
2045 Hours EST
Kerry DuBois sat in the basement, wrapped in a blanket, sipping on a can of beer. By candlelight he watched Tank and Blondi wrap up the body of the old lady that owned the place inside of three large garbage bags. They then lifted the body, Blondi grabbing the shoulders and Tank grabbing the feet, to carry her up the stairs. They dropped the body in a closet near the door and quickly when back down the stairs, closing the door behind them.
Tank looked at Blondi before popping open a beer for himself. “You sure the prepper you worked with won’t be coming back to see his mom? Hell, he set this place up like a bomb shelter!”
Blondi shook his head, “No, he was one of the first in the newsroom to get sick and some other fools rushed him to the hospital. I’m just glad I gave him a ride to his mom’s once. Arrogant asshole was always telling everyone that we should prepare for the end of the world. Guess he was right, and I’m damned glad he did the preparing!”
“Kerry?” Tank asked. “How long do you figure we should hunker down here?”
Kerry rubbed his stubbly chin for a few seconds before saying, “Well, according to Coyote’s Chief of Staff, this shit could stick around in the air for at least a couple of weeks, and probably a couple of months. At least until the dead people decompose and the sun kills all the airborne spores. Looks like we’re gonna’ run out of beer long before that. Seems to be a lot of food, but I’m gonna’ get real tired of using and smellin’ the crap bucket over there.”
Blondi showed an evil smile, and said, “You can always go on up the stairs and just use the great outdoors.” All three men laughed at that, before taking another swig of beer.
“Tank, how’d you stay out of jail, after you took out the Governor and all?” Kerry’s question was asked in a tone of admiration.
“I got me a few hidey holes here and about. Unfortunately, none of them have the kind of stocks this here place has. How’d you know it was me?” His expression on his face had turned threatening.
&nb
sp; “Chapman found out through his sources in the KSP.” Kerry was wary now, as it sunk in that Tank might consider him a threat to turn him in. “Don’t matter now, though. Ain’t gonna be any more police or maybe even any more people.” None of the men had any comment to that.
. . .
Outside of Cronin, Kentucky
1015 Hours
Linda sat in Peter’s family room talking to Mike, with everyone else listening intently. Her report had been short and concise. “Only sixty homes have someone living in them and two of them contained people sick with some type of illness, although not necessarily the virus. It was reported through military communications that the President continued to monitor things and issue orders from an undisclosed location, but realistically, nothing has been done. The country would be in complete anarchy, except almost everyone left is too afraid to leave their homes or shelters. Wherever the military people go, they find death. Those that the virus hasn’t killed seem to have died through exposure, lack of clean water or simply giving up. The military estimate is that over fifty percent of the country’s population has already died, with that number being much higher on the coasts and major urban centers. They keep promising that a vaccine for the virus is coming, but there has been nothing yet and pretty soon there won’t be any medical people to even administer it.”
The Final Proclamation (An America Reborn Thriller Book 2) Page 33