04 Apocalypse Unleashed

by Mel Odom

  “No,” Goose said. “You got point. Stay ready. Let’s go.”

  23

  United States 75th Army Rangers Temporary Post

  Sanliurfa, Turkey

  Local Time 0754 Hours

  “You can’t leave Sergeant Gander there, Captain,” Alexander Cody said.

  Remington ignored the CIA section chief. The captain was already deeply aware that he couldn’t leave Goose behind in Harran. OneWorld NewsNet was making him out to be a hero. Again.

  The news channel’s screen remained split, displaying the continuing attack on Harran as well as looping the footage that had been shot of Goose’s own struggles to stay alive.

  “If the sergeant dies,” Cody said, “we’ve lost the only link we have to Icarus.”

  Remington was more conscious of Goose’s public image. Goose had gotten a lot of international attention whether he’d wanted it or not. Abandoning him in Harran, especially when he was risking his life to bring home a wounded fellow Ranger, was out of the question.

  “Lieutenant Archer,” Remington barked.

  “Sir.” The junior officer wheeled about rapidly.

  “Get me a twenty on First Sergeant Gander. I want a sat-eye and constant GPS on him.”

  “Right away, sir.” Archer abandoned the marker board and hurried over to the computer techs.

  “Black Angel Leader, this is Base.”

  “Go, Base.”

  Remington peered at the large computer monitor that displayed the overhead view of the city. He spotted the ten Black Hawk combat choppers winging over Harran from the north. Farther south, the Syrian forces had slowed only slightly, like waves crashing onto a rocky shore.

  “I need a pickup performed inside the town,” Remington said. “I want a pilot who can sit one of those birds on a dime and take off again in the heat of battle.”

  “Affirmative, sir. I have just the man.”

  “Get him up front first to off-load those mines, then have him double back. I want him on a private frequency to handle the pickup.” Remington rattled off the channel they’d be using for the exfiltration.

  “Base, this is Black Angel Eleven,” a calm male voice said over the new frequency.

  “Eleven, this is Base. First Sergeant Gander is loose in the streets with a wounded Ranger. He’s not going to make it to the evac site. I need you to pick him up.”

  “Understood. Happy to do it, Base. The top has always been a good guy in our books.”

  Remington resented the implied familiarity with Goose. Even though the sergeant didn’t make a conscious effort to get to know everyone, it always seemed like he did. Faces and names, as well as the circumstances where he’d encountered them, just came easily to Goose. Remington was convinced that Goose could walk up to a fence post and strike up a conversation.

  Switching to the frequency Goose was monitoring, Remington called for him.

  “I read you, Base,” Goose answered. His voice sounded strained and distant.

  “You’re not going to make the evac, Goose,” Remington said.

  If Goose was upset at the news, he didn’t let it show. “I’m sorry to hear that, sir. I’d counted on it for Johnson’s sake.”

  “One of the Black Hawks is going to pick you up. We’re negotiating an LZ right now.”

  “I appreciate it, Captain. We’ve lost enough good men out here today.”

  Remington glanced over at the television and discovered that Danielle Vinchenzo was back on the air. There was no picture, but the audio was coming through, and a transcription was being printed across the split screen under looped segments of the rescue of the Rangers in the house.

  “Is that reporter always so close to Sergeant Gander?” Cody asked.

  “No, but she is a lot of the time. Too many of the wrong times, as it turns out.”

  “Captain,” one of the security teams called in Remington’s ear.

  “I want no interruptions,” Remington said.

  “Understood, sir. But you also left orders to let you know if a reporter from OneWorld NewsNet showed up. There’s one here now, sir.”

  Remington glanced back at the door to the command post. A clean-cut young man with blond hair stood in the doorway. An older man carrying a camera case in one hand stood beside him.

  “Show them in,” Remington said.

  The young man crossed the floor and extended a hand. He exuded confidence and competence. “I’m Josh Campbell, Captain Remington. It’s an honor to meet you.”

  “Mr. Campbell.” Remington took the young man’s hand and released it.

  “This is my associate, Ben Howard.” Campbell nodded toward the cameraman.

  Howard inclined his head but didn’t say anything.

  “What are you doing here, Mr. Campbell?” Remington asked.

  “My news director, at the request of Nicolae Carpathia, sent me here to get your story.”

  “Why?”

  Campbell smiled hugely, exposing keen white incisors that were made for the camera. “Because your efforts here in Sanliurfa are important, Captain Remington. Nicolae feels that the world should know about them.”

  Remington noticed how easily the younger man threw around Carpathia’s name. It was like they were old friends. Strangely, the usage didn’t hit the captain’s lie radar.

  “Nicolae has big plans for you, Captain,” Campbell said.

  “What plans?”

  Campbell grinned again and shook his head. He mimed zipping his mouth shut. “Nope. You’re not going to hear it from me. That’s Nicolae’s surprise to spring. I’m just here to make you look good and make sure the whole world knows who you are.”

  “Sir,” Archer called.

  Remington glanced at the lieutenant.

  “We’ve located Goose.” Archer touched one of the computer screens.

  “Find me a location where a Black Hawk can sit down,” Remington ordered. “Then get First Sergeant Gander there.”

  “Yes, sir.” Archer turned to the task.

  “I can see you’re really busy at the moment,” Campbell said. “Maybe you could point us to an out-of-the-way place.”

  “Corporal,” Remington addressed the guard who had brought the newsmen over.

  “Sir.”

  “Escort these men to a neutral area. Keep them in the loop, but sit on them.”

  The corporal saluted smartly and led his charges away.

  “Having the media underfoot isn’t a good thing.” Cody scowled in irritation.

  “Maybe not if you’re living the life of a cockroach and can’t stand the light,” Remington said, feeling better about things already. “I’m not involved with anything that’s going to send my career down in flames.”

  “You’re involved with me. I’m involved with Icarus. If that man shows up at the wrong time, if what he knows falls into the wrong hands, everything over here could go wrong.”

  Remington gazed at the man coolly. “You’re making me think I should reevaluate this working relationship we have.”

  “That’s not what I meant.”

  “Then perhaps you should think more quietly,” Remington suggested. Personally, he was looking forward to having his story told in the media. This was where he belonged: in the limelight. He turned his attention back to the events unfolding in Harran.

  24

  United States of America

  Columbus, Georgia

  St. Francis Hospital Intensive Care Unit

  Local Time 0055 Hours

  Jenny McGrath sat by her father’s bed and ate her dinner. The day at the hospital had been hectic. Even weeks after the disappearances, everything hadn’t returned to normal. People were more paranoid and vulnerable than ever. A lot of traffic accidents had come in today, and victims of gang-and drug-related violence had been steadily appearing through the evening.

  She’d been cleaning the waiting rooms outside the ER when a young police officer was brought in. He’d been shot during a domestic squabble between a wife and a h
usband. They’d almost lost him twice before his father arrived at the ER. The father had already been upset about the unexplained disappearance of his wife. Now he had this to deal with.

  Jenny had been tempted to tell him of Megan Gander’s belief that God had called up all the children and those who believed in Him during the rapture. But her own lack of faith and her hesitancy to believe that what Megan said was true had held her tongue.

  All those long, lonely years of growing up in Jackson McGrath’s drunken shadow had taught her to believe in little outside her own skin. So instead of saying anything, she’d finished her job and walked away. She still didn’t know what had happened to the young police officer.

  Unexpectedly the television came on.

  Surprised, Jenny glanced at her father, thinking that he might have regained consciousness and switched it on. No matter how drunk he’d gotten wherever they’d lived, he’d never been too inebriated to turn on the television. Or drive. Drunk driving had finally cost her father his license.

  But Jackson McGrath still slept. His sallow cheeks had already started to darken from his beard growth. A piece of toilet paper was still stuck to his chin where she’d accidentally cut him that morning. Just looking at the slight wound made her feel guilty all over again. She’d learned to shave him when she was little so he wouldn’t cut his face to pieces while shaking with the DTs. Delirium tremens had been another aspect of her home education that most of the kids her age had never had to deal with.

  Jenny guessed that one of the remote controls in the other rooms had activated her father’s television as well. Sometimes they did that and changed channels, which proved disturbing to some of the patients and their families.

  She watched the television out of habit, not really paying attention. Then she saw First Sergeant Samuel Adams Gander in combat gear and firing a rifle.

  The first time Jenny had seen Goose on TV, she hadn’t recognized him, but it was hard to live in Megan Gander’s house even for only a few days without seeing the sergeant’s photograph. In those pictures, he was seldom alone, except in staged photos for the army. The other pictures were of Goose and Megan at their wedding and other special occasions and of Goose with Joey and Chris at various ages.

  From the beginning, Jenny had seen something solid and generous in the sergeant. He wasn’t the kind of man that she’d often met, and never while with her father.

  Seeing the danger First Sergeant Gander was in—or had been in; Jenny wasn’t sure from the news story—she bowed her head and prayed for him. Then, because she heard her father’s breathing, she prayed for him as well.

  Footsteps entered the room.

  Startled, Jenny looked up and spotted Tony Murray, her father’s midnight-to-six nurse, standing on the other side of the bed. Tony was in his early forties, a nice guy with a quiet disposition. He wore earrings in both ears and a thick, black goatee that matched his hair and bushy eyebrows behind his John Lennon glasses.

  “Sorry,” he said in a soft voice.

  “It’s okay.”

  Tony took her dad’s vitals and made notations on the clipboard on the wall. “I see more people doing that these days.”

  “What?”

  “Praying.”

  Jenny’s cheeks warmed, and she turned her attention back to the bowl of macaroni and cheese she’d brought up from the hospital cafeteria. She suddenly felt really uncomfortable.

  “Man, my bad,” Tony said. “I didn’t mean to embarrass you.”

  “I’m not embarrassed.” Jenny lifted her gaze to meet Tony’s, and he rolled his eyes.

  “Anybody else, you can lie to, but I’m a human lie detector. Ask any nurse or doctor on this floor. I ask a patient if they’ve taken their medication, I know immediately if that patient is lying. A lot of the doctors and nurses come to me if they can’t tell if a patient is telling the truth. I always can.”

  “Oh.”

  “So maybe you were a little embarrassed.”

  “Yeah.”

  “You shouldn’t be.”

  Jenny frowned. “Look, I know you probably mean well and everything, but I’m really not ready for one of those God-loves-you speeches.”

  Tony’s eyebrows rose over his glasses. “Wow. I guess you got a lot of those.”

  “Growing up, sure.” Anyone who knew Jackson McGrath as he really was and who believed in God had told her that. She’d always assumed it was so she’d think at least someone loved her.

  But if God really loved me, would He have given me Jackson McGrath as a father? or the mother who ran away and left me?

  Those questions had plagued Jenny since she’d first started to think about God and where she was supposed to fit into the world. All these years later, she still didn’t have any answers.

  “I got a lot of them too,” Tony said. “My mom was really into church. She tried to cram it down my throat every time I turned around. So I resisted, you know. The way kids will.”

  Jenny just looked at him.

  “Okay, so maybe I extended my childhood a couple of decades. I still like my Xbox 360 and PS3 and maybe horror movies a little more than I should. The point is, I didn’t listen to my mom. I went with her to church, but instead of listening, I was busy skulling out whatever level in the game I was currently playing that was giving me problems. I wasn’t really paying attention. I stood when she stood. I bowed my head when she bowed her head. And I pretended to pray while she prayed for me.”

  The conversation wasn’t relaxing Jenny at all. She realized in that moment that part of the reason she hadn’t been back to see Megan Gander these days was because Megan had found God.

  But Jenny just couldn’t buy into it, though she still didn’t have another explanation for all the disappearances.

  “The point is,” Tony went on, “my mother disappeared during the rapture.”

  There was that word again. When Jenny had heard it in church, she hadn’t thought much about it. It was just one of those terms like heaven, good, evil, apostle, and others. The Bible was filled with words that didn’t mean what she’d thought they meant while reading on her own. She’d gotten easily confused, and she hadn’t wanted to ask anyone about anything she’d read.

  “After I found out what was going on,” Tony said, “I thought I knew what was happening. I called home. Got no answer. During the confusion, I slipped away and went home. When I got there, Mom was gone. Laundry was still spread out on the couch. I knew then that the rapture had happened.”

  Drawn into the story, Jenny couldn’t help asking, “Why?”

  Tony grinned. “Because God calling her home is the only thing that would have gotten my mom to stop in the middle of laundry. The woman was a factory when it came to washing, drying, and folding. The U.S. post office is a bunch of pikers compared to my mom.” His dark eyes glimmered with unshed tears.

  “I’m sorry,” Jenny said quietly.

  “Me too,” Tony admitted. “Not because she’s gone but because now I’m going to have to wait seven years to see her again. And mostly I’m sorry because I didn’t believe in God enough to go with her.”

  Jenny didn’t know what to say.

  “Believing is important.”

  Jenny shook her head. “I don’t think I know how to believe.”

  Tony smiled. “Sure you do. There are a lot of things you believe in. Just think for a minute, and you’ll start to realize it. For me, it was my mom. Didn’t you ever believe in your …” He stopped and looked at Jackson McGrath.

  “No,” Jenny said quietly. “Believing in my father ended way before believing in Santa Claus and the tooth fairy.”

  Tony looked horribly embarrassed. “Sorry. Didn’t mean to bring up bad thoughts.”

  Just being in this room brings up bad thoughts. Jenny decided not to mention that.

  “But this can’t be all you’ve ever had,” Tony persisted. “What about friends?”

  “No. None that I could talk to for long. Every time I made a friend, they en
ded up meeting my dad. That was kind of a deal breaker.”

  “Oh.” Tony smiled at her. “Well, I’m your friend. And I know a lot of the women here at the hospital have taken to you too. A lot of people care about you, Jenny.”

  For a moment Jenny thought she was going to cry. But she wouldn’t allow herself to. It was almost like being back in Mrs. Wilson’s class in the fifth grade, when she’d started getting her figure. She’d worked hard at school that year and had attended class most of the time. The teachers took up a collection to buy her some new clothes and a winter coat. Until that time she’d been stuck with boys’ hand-medowns that her father had wheedled from the women running the thrift stores.

  For a while Jenny had actually felt good about going to school. She’d looked good and been warm. Then the other kids, jealous of the attention from the teachers Jenny was receiving, found out where she’d gotten the clothes. They started making fun of her, referring to her as a “ghetto” child. Wearing the clothes and the coat had never been the same. It wasn’t until she’d gotten to junior high school and learned to make her own clothes that she started taking some pride in herself. And she’d never trusted that to anyone else.

  “Thank you,” Jenny said.

  “You’re welcome. Praying is the best thing you can do. You may not feel like you’re getting anywhere at first. I gotta admit, I didn’t. But praying for me was like talking to my mom. I talked to her a lot at first; then somewhere in there I started talking to God. He hasn’t quite started answering back. At least, not the way you think of conversation. But I’m starting to notice things. Guideposts. A feeling of the way things are supposed to be.” Tony shook his head. “I really can’t explain it any better than that.”

  Jenny nodded, tried to think of a response, then gave up.

  “What I’m telling you is, don’t be afraid of prayer. I think more people should be doing it. And if you stay with it, you might be surprised at what you learn.”