Her grandmother would always be close to her heart. Now well into her twenties, however, she was ready to make her mark on the world with a steady and satisfying career in the FBI.
But for now, her number one concern was getting to Washington National Airport and sitting down in the assigned terminal to enjoy an extra-large slice of greasy pepperoni pizza from Sbarro while she waited for her flight back to Georgia.
Red lights along the tracks started flashing near her feet. She leaned forward and saw a train approaching the platform. Tiny mice scurried around to safety as the tracks rumbled, and wind blew through her hair as the train pulled to a stop.
The doors opened and a mass exodus of people came out. Haven noticed with interest that there were several policemen getting off of the train. They spoke into their walkie-talkies and jogged past her hastily. She strained to hear what they were saying, but couldn’t make out much.
Her phone vibrated from within her purse. She reached in and fished around in her bag until she found it. Houston Hanover’s handsome face filled the small screen, and she smiled. Even after all of their years together, Haven still felt butterflies in her stomach when he called.
“Hi, baby. How’s it going?” she asked.
Houston lived in Concord, South Carolina where he currently held a temporary sales and marketing position until Haven found a job in a city where they could both be together. Since she didn’t know where in the United States she would be placed once she joined the FBI, Haven decided to move back with her family to save money until she completed her training at Quantico. Luckily, his line of work allowed him to move anywhere. They both hated the distance, but were irrevocably dedicated to one another and thus honed their long-distance relationship survival skills to a fine point.
“Hey, babe. I’m still at work, but I just wanted to see how your interviews went. I can’t believe that you’re finally living out your dream. I’m so proud of you.” His voice was filled with enthusiasm and sincerity.
Haven boarded the train and chose a seat near the back where she had a clear view of everything going on around her. “Well,” she began, a little grin on her face, “I don’t want to count my chickens yet, but I think it went pretty great.”
“That’s amazing, sweetheart. I bet you knocked it out of the park.”
Haven played with the hem of her suit. “I should hear back from them in a couple of weeks. What about you? You said you’re still at the office?”
Houston sighed. “Yeah, probably until at least eight or nine. I have to tie up a few accounts. Exhausting, but the commissions are worth it. Saving up enough money so I can come see you again. I miss you so much, Haven.”
She tied her hair into a ponytail, slipped her feet out of her heels, and stretched her legs. “I miss you, too!”
“So, Agent Janero... Wow, that actually sounds super hot. My girlfriend, the FBI agent. We should totally act that out sometime,” he said playfully. “What are you wearing?”
Haven smiled, her honey eyes sparkling mischievously as she looked down at her tailored black suit. She could picture him asking the question with one eyebrow raised in that way she found so irresistible.
Laughing, she answered, “Just finished an interview, so nothing too exciting. Just my suit.”
“Hey, if you ask me, suits are hot. We’ll have to make up for lost time.” Again, the eyebrow. She was sure of it. “Anyways, I just wanted to see how your interview went. I’ve got to make a few calls before the end of the day, but I’ll give you a buzz tonight before you board your flight, and we can talk about it in greater detail.”
“Okay. I love you. Stay strong! The day is almost finished,” she encouraged.
“You’re telling me! Love you, too, babe. Call you later.” He hung up.
Haven glanced in the reflection of the glass of the window. She was deep in thought pondering what kind of future lay ahead of her here in D.C., when she suddenly jerked back from the window. Had she just seen something inside the tunnel, something very close to the train? It almost looked like a person. A very pale person.
Haven shook her head, certain her tired mind was playing tricks on her. She reached for one of the free newspapers, The Express, left on the train. In her impatience to get to the airport, she overlooked one of the articles in the national news section. Instead, she flipped through the Wanted ads, hoping to get an idea of how much rent she’d need to pay once she moved. The cost of living here was painstakingly exorbitant, especially for a small-town girl like Haven. She could have a five-bedroom mansion for what she would spend on a one- or two-bedroom place in D.C.
A few stops later, the train pulled in to her destination. Haven shouldered her purse and towed along her carry-on behind her.
After going down the escalator to cross into the airport, Haven exhaled deeply, happy to finally be on her way to rest and relaxation.
Unfortunately, her elation was only momentary.
Her eyes widened when she noticed the number of people crowding the airline desks. Long lines extended as far as she could see.
She sighed. It had certainly been much calmer on the flight up. Now it was like a circus.
Those who weren’t standing impatiently in the lines were anxiously talking into their phones, sitting on their luggage, or sleeping on the floor. Some children were crying, pulling on their parents’ sleeves in frustration, while others sucked their thumbs, wide-eyed at the chaos around them. A few of the more energetic kids ran around playing hide-and-seek amidst the clutter.
A gravelly voice boomed over the loudspeaker, repeatedly directing everyone to be patient. She noticed more police officers than usual joining the fray.
Haven stood in the middle of the walkway, people brushing past her as they darted through the crowd, strained expressions on their faces.
Something she couldn’t put her finger on made her palms sweat, her pulse race.
She quickly walked over to a huge screen displaying the arrivals and departures of all of the flights, groaning as she saw that flight upon flight had been delayed or canceled. Was every airline having problems? Was there bad weather on the horizon?
Haven scanned the screen until she saw her flight. Bright red letters spelled it out for her.
Delayed.
“What the heck is going on here?” she muttered to herself.
Haven turned and briskly headed over to a Jet Blue representative.
“Excuse me, but what is all of this? What’s happening?” she asked a frazzled-looking employee as she gestured around her.
The woman sighed and pressed her fingers to her forehead, rubbing her temple in exhaustion. “I wish I could tell you. It’s been like this all day. They’re canceling flights right and left. Where are you headed?
“Columbus, Georgia,” she answered.
“When were you supposed to take off?”
“Eight thirty-five.” Haven glanced at her watch. “I still have a couple hours.”
“There’s a strong possibility that you might have to wait until the next available flight, honey.”
Haven leaned against the counter, straining to see the computer screen. “And when is that?”
The woman continued to scroll through the list of flights. “Thursday.”
Haven gasped and shook her head. “That’s insane. I can’t do that!”
“Sorry, honey,” the woman told her apologetically.
“Isn’t there anything you can do? I don’t have any family or friends here in D.C., and I don’t have enough money to stay in a hotel until Thursday. I need to get home,” Haven said emphatically, looking at her with desperate eyes.
The woman glanced at her sympathetically, misinterpreting Haven’s desperation for fear of being stuck in the city without her family. “Let me see your ticket again. I think there’s a flight leaving shortly that I might be able to squeeze you on, but it’s the last one for the day. Can’t make any promises, but maybe I can get you on that.”
Haven breathed a sigh
of relief. “Thank you. I’d greatly appreciate it.”
She handed her ticket back over to the woman.
Forty-five minutes later, Haven collapsed into her seat on the next flight to Columbus. Miraculously, the woman had escorted Haven through security and managed to get her on another flight that left within the hour.
Haven’s feet were throbbing, and she nudged her shoes off with her toes. Jogging in heels to make the flight had been quite the challenge, but Haven was grateful the woman had ensured her a way home.
She took out her cell phone and texted her family to let them know the change in her flight plans.
Staring out the window again, she noticed countless planes sitting idly at the gates. Not only were they empty, but it seemed as if no one would be boarding them at all. It was more than odd. She didn’t understand why all of the flights were being canceled. She hadn’t heard of any inclement weather, and it was next to impossible that every single one of the planes she was looking at through her window needed mechanical repairs.
Her thoughts wandered to the hundreds of people who had been unable to get on a flight to their homes. While she felt a measure of sympathy for them, the feeling was quickly replaced with the relief of knowing she would be home with her family in a couple of hours.
She didn’t know it then, but that particular flight to Georgia was one of the last flights out of the Washington, D.C. area. While other states across the country continued to send planes out of their territories, this was one of the first efforts of the nation’s capital to shut down and secure its borders.
Haven’s dream for a future laden with adventure looked as though it was going to become a reality sooner than she expected.
Only perhaps this time it wasn’t the kind of adventure she’d been hoping for.
Chapter 2:
London, England
No one noticed the pale, sickly man sweating profusely while he waited to board Delta Flight 868. Hamid pulled his baseball cap low over his eyes and leaned forward in an attempt to relieve some of the pain twisting his insides. He shut his eyes and reminded himself what he had been told, how his decision to be infected with the lethal virus was going to change history. He would be considered a savior of sorts, a stepping stone to a new and better world.
Heat radiated from every pore. His body felt as though a fire was scorching through it, devouring his flesh. Hamid glanced down at his forearm where the toxin had been injected. The puncture wound was bright red and angry, and from the site of the injection, his veins had taken on an ominous dark color, standing out starkly against his paling skin.
“Delta Flight 868 to Atlanta will now begin boarding zones four and five,” a pleasant voice announced over the loudspeaker.
He reached into his pocket, grimaced at the pain that shot through his arm, and pulled out his ticket. He pushed his sleeve down and walked to the swiftly growing line of passengers.
They had injected him with the poison only an hour before, just outside of the airport in the parking garage to ensure that the virus wouldn’t spread too quickly while he was on the flight. The intention was for him to get through U.S. Customs as inconspicuously as possible and then contaminate populations from there. The flight was scheduled to last five hours, and Hamid fervently hoped that he could withstand the virus long enough to arrive at his destination as planned. Already it seemed as though the virus was attacking his system with an unbridled fervor.
“Ticket please, sir,” a pretty brunette flight attendant chimed in, interrupting his thoughts.
He handed her his ticket, waited nervously for her to scan it, and breathed a sigh of relief when she handed it back to him.
“Enjoy your flight,” the woman told him cheerfully, her white teeth gleaming as she gave him a well-practiced smile. He mumbled a response and boarded the plane.
Once aboard, Hamid located his seat, settled in quickly as he did not bring any carry-on items with him, and attempted to relax. He tried to wrap his head around the magnitude of what he had done. He understood that it meant he would never see his family or friends again, never set foot in his homeland, never reach old age. If he was honest with himself, however, he didn’t really have very many friends, and while he did have a wife and child, they would understand the sacrifice he was making.
He would be a hero.
Still, he knew that he was only one of many that had been infected with the virus and subsequently sent to various cities around the United States.
He watched as the other passengers made their way to their assigned seats. He hated their arrogance, their unfailing ability to infiltrate everything they touched, and their worldly, hedonistic ways. He realized he had a scowl on his face and immediately softened his expression. After all, he didn’t want to look suspicious before they even left the runway.
Hamid willed himself to rest. He was exhausted and in pain. He pulled the travel blanket provided by the airline out of its plastic wrapping and encased himself in it. Although he was sweating considerably, he fought back the urge to shiver. Whatever nasty ingredients were in the virus, he couldn’t imagine the pain being worse. He had been briefed a few days before when one of the subordinates beneath the mastermind, General Farhad, gave him a short list of what to expect once he was infected. He had been told that the manner in which he had contracted the virus would be a slower process than if he had become infected through the bodily fluids of a carrier. Supposedly, the fever would be what killed him, and already, he was certain he was running a high temperature.
Thus, he had left his homeland late yesterday evening, arrived in London Heathrow, exited the airport, met with someone once he was outside, and safe from the prying eyes of security cameras, the stranger had injected him in the back seat of a 2012 Mercedes Benz with tinted windows. He had promptly left the vehicle without exchanging more than a prayer with the stranger and subsequently went back through security to his assigned terminal. He had felt the effects of the virus as soon as he had gotten into the security line, and upon catching his reflection in a glass barrier near the scanners, he realized his skin had taken on an unusual pallor.
He had to admit that the General’s biochemical weapon was genius. Sure, there had been smallpox, the flu, and H1N1, to name a few, but how many of these diseases could boast the ability to completely eradicate populations, to literally create monsters that would hunt prey in the most terrifying manner? How many of those diseases had no cure and would not end until each and every carrier had feasted on the flesh of those they sought to eliminate? How many secret weapons had created killing machines that multiplied by the second? That never tired?
None before now.
Hamid suddenly jerked forward, clutching his abdomen. He violently coughed, trying to mask the sound with his fist. When he pulled his hand away, he winced as he caught sight of a thick black substance oozing between his fingers.
He turned when he heard someone clear her throat. A middle-aged, portly woman stood in the aisle, skeptically eyeing him and his condition. A typical overly enthusiastic tourist, she proudly displayed a brightly colored shirt complete with Big Ben and the London Bridge emblazoned across the front.
“I think you’re in my seat,” she remarked dryly, curling her lip slightly at his disheveled state. It was clear that she didn’t want any part of his sickness.
He nodded, rose to his feet, and brushed past her to go to the toilets. Shoving his soiled hand into his pocket, he stumbled hastily to the back of the plane. A mother waiting in line with her child saw him and pulled her little boy close to her. Did he really look that bad? He quickly passed them and entered one of the cabins.
As soon as he had safely locked the door behind him, he turned to the mirror and gasped. His face, once a rich, dark tan, was a sickly pale color, and his eyes, once light brown and lively, were rimmed in red and seemed to have sunken into the dark circles of the sockets.
He quickly lifted his sleeve and sank down to the floor. The site of the injection was no lo
nger bright red and oozing pus, but black and crusty.
He could feel the poison consuming him, devouring every last remnant of life in his body.
Hamid hoped the end would come soon. He didn’t have long now.
***
“Mmmm, this weather is divine!” Erin Reynolds exclaimed as she stepped off the Delta flight into the hot Atlanta sunshine. She smiled at her tall, handsome boyfriend, Ryan Sloan, pushing her shoulder-length blonde hair behind her ears and pulling out a shiny black pair of Ray-Bans from her bag.
“Sure is, babe. I’m glad you planned this,” he responded, squeezing her shoulder affectionately.
Inhaling deeply, she walked hand in hand with Ryan towards the shuttle that would transport them to the terminals. Erin was ecstatic that she had been able to convince Ryan to take a few days off from med school after his mid-terms at Boston University. Always the overachiever, Ryan had pushed himself to the limit and was in dire need of a vacation. And what better place to relax than in the Deep South?
A native Georgia girl herself, Erin was excited to introduce Ryan to her parents. They had been together for a couple of years already, and Erin was positive that Ryan was “the one.” She had met him at the Cheesecake Factory while celebrating her birthday with some girl friends in downtown Boston. He was working part-time as a server to put himself through med school, and almost immediately, there had been a connection. After finishing her Master’s in Fine Arts, she had opened a small studio near the school and had been so busy, she hadn’t come home in quite some time.
The Good, the Dead, and the Lawless: The Undoing Page 2