by Paul Kirk
Lieutenant Wahlberg had the gift of amazing good looks and Hannah Starkes risked falling under his spell again, but attempted to assess him more analytically and objectively. There was a slight hint of entitlement in his demeanor and she wondered how she had missed him and his good looks until now. He smiled broadly at her, as if reading her thoughts, and she nearly returned to her mesmerized state of mush.
Colonel Hannah Starkes, President of the United States and leader of the free world cleared her throat, reined in her emotions, and took control. First and foremost, she was a colonel in the United States Army and a leader of men. “Keenan.”
“Yes, ma’am?”
“I realize you’re not within my present chain of command. Despite this fact, would you permit me to render a personal opinion that might be considered out of bounds?”
“Umm...sure, colonel.”
"Would you permit me a bit of latitude with your men for a few moments?"
"Of course."
"Thank you." Hannah Starkes addressed the young lieutenant standing before her. “Lieutenant, you are, by far, one of the handsomest men I have ever laid eyes on.” Lieutenant Wahlberg accepted this as his just due and smiled. She turned to Major McLoy. “Is it your assessment that your lieutenant has personal knowledge of Perryopolis and its people?”
“Yes, ma’am. He lived in Perryopolis for several months. Whenever we go there to trade, him and Commander Del Re greet each other as friends.”
“Excellent. Lieutenant, start talking.”
“Yes, ma’am,” said Wahlberg. “Perryopolis is a small town along Route 51. It’s about thirty miles south of Pittsburgh. There’s about two hundred people living there now—there used to be more than two thousand, but the Sickness took most of them. Some people, like me, moved away, but there were others who passed through there, liked what they saw, and decided to stay. The fields of wheat and corn produced by the town provide an abundance of good food. About a fourth of the population is ex-military. There’s about forty women in the town—almost all of ‘em are of childbearing age, but no babies. The youngest kid is probably seven or eight years old.”
“What else?” asked Colonel Starkes. She was finding it much easier to look at him directly.
“Perryopolis is best known for its brew. They have a very tasty ale they call Momma’s Best. I have —”
The colonel interrupted. “Hmm, a real nice story, lieutenant. Keep in mind, though, that I’m looking for more crucial details like their defensive capabilities, weapons strength, training initiatives, offensive capabilities—you know, minor fuckin' details like that.” The gathered group laughed at the colonel’s raw request for appropriate information. Everyone laughed except Lieutenant Wahlberg; each of Keenan’s men relished the control the colonel had in the face of their comrade. His good looks and easy charisma had always given him an easy advantage with any women they met; several of the men kept a close eye on their girlfriends when he was around.
“Umm,” the lieutenant blinked several times, not used to being interrupted by a woman.
No matter where the lieutenant was—in town, on the mountain, or anywhere else—he never had a problem finding a woman to warm him on a cold night. Some women warmed his bed on more than one occasion despite knowing he was simply using them for the night. Until today, Major McLoy's crew had never seen a humble expression from the lieutenant. Colonel Starkes recognized the man’s discomfort and smiled mischievously at Major O’Malley. She decided to push the young lieutenant. She wanted to demonstrate to the gathered men that she knew how to run a man’s army despite her feminine physiology.
“Lieutenant? You do have a working brain that goes along with your good looks, don’t you? Tell me you have more information than the details of their beer sales. Tell me you didn't already shoot your wad with the last tidbit of mostly useless information.”
The crowd of men gasped at the audacity and began laughing. Amanda and Nicole burst forth in laughter, so much so, they each held the other for support. Refusing to grin at the fun she was having, and frustrated at the situation, Colonel Starkes slammed her hand onto the map. “I need answers dammit!”
Wahlberg cleared his throat. “Yes, ma’am. The town rotates four snipers who guard well-fortified gates—one at the north end of town and the other at the south end. Both are on Route 51. The commander keeps a minimum of two armed men carrying M-4s and shotguns on each gate tower at all times, night and day. They have assigned watchers on each gate. Two additional armed men walk the bottom of each gate as relief.”
“Continue.”
The blushing lieutenant absently scanned the room, searching his mind for additional details to satisfy the woman. “The people in town train for assault once a month. The assault is expected mostly to come from the north, toward Pittsburgh. Everyone’s involved, even the kids. It’s a full drill and every person in town has a set of specific tasks. They have a decent armory there along with a command post and they had started making homemade explosives when I left. The plan was always to defend the town at whatever cost. But, the commander was experimenting with an evacuation scenario when I secured his permission to leave.”
“You had to get his permission?”
“No, but asking his permission was the right thing to do. The town took me in when they didn’t have to and quickly treated me like one of their own. When I asked for the commander's permission to leave, he only made me swear I’d never be a part of an assault against his town.”
“Thank you lieutenant, that will be all,” said Colonel Starkes. She turned to her second in command. "Shit!" She knew the small town would be entirely consumed by Phoenix’s stronger force. “We have to let them know to run, major.”
“Yes, ma’am,” said Major O’Malley. “I’ll have Shamus power up the bird.”
“They won’t run, colonel,” said Wahlberg.
“Then, they’re dead already, lieutenant.” She gathered up her map from the table and left with Major O'Malley by her side. The group parted as she made her way to the door. Major McLoy and Captain Dawson followed.
CHAPTER 10.21-A History Lesson
“Ma’am, I need to advise my command on these developments. You know, that we found you. If you’re planning on taking us with you to Perryopolis, what’ll we do with our horses?”
“Hold the thought, Keenan,” said the colonel. “Major, can you c'mere, please?”
The major hurried over. “Yes, ma’am? Shamus is almost finished with his pre-flight check—what do you need, colonel?”
“I need your thoughts on what to do with these men and their command. Major McLoy needs to provide a report to his superiors.”
“Let’s give him what he needs, colonel.”
“You’re sure, major?”
“Yes, ma’am. They’re good men, colonel. I like what they tell me about this Mark Harmon guy. And they also speak highly of Commander Bastin—he’s in charge of the Summit gate and their commander.”
“Yeah. Okay, major. Why don’t you fill him in?”
“Of course, colonel.”
Colonel Starkes motioned for Keenan and Dawson to join them.
“Gentlemen,” began Major O’Malley, “what the colonel and I are about to tell you will remain strictly confidential. Do I make myself clear?”
There were acknowledging nods from both the men.
“You can pass this info onto your superiors,” continued Major O’Malley, “but there’s no reason for your men here to know who we’re looking for yet. We’re trying our best to keep a lid on this.”
The men nodded again, their somber expressions showing their understanding of the severity of the moment.
“Major McLoy, before you call your commander, I have to ask you a question. Do you know a Colonel Connor MacMillen?”
“Who? No.”
“I saw your hesitation, major. If you don’t know him, you certainly know of him.”
Keenan knew he wasn’t much of a liar. He wiped his mouth with his s
leeve and decided continued silence was the best course of action.
“Keenan,” pleaded Major O’Malley, “we’re on the same side here. I’m trying to locate Colonel MacMillen as a matter of national security.”
“Colonel MacMillen?” answered Keenan. “Not sure I ever heard the name before.”
“C’mon, Major McLoy, it’s obvious MacMillen is someone you know or at least have heard of.”
Keenan looked quickly at Dawson who was having better luck keeping his face devoid of any signs of recognition. Excited, Colonel Starkes detected something in his facial expression that suggested otherwise.
“Alright, Major O’Malley! We’re finally getting somewhere. Listen, you two, we need to know where Colonel MacMillen is going.”
“Keenan?” asked Major O’Malley.
“Yeah, Mike?”
“You realize the President of the United States just asked you a fuckin’ question?”
Keenan turned his back on Major O’Malley, took a few paces away, stopped, and turned to face him again. “Begging your pardon, ma’am, but you’re gonna hafta give me some more information before I tell you anything I know.”
“Is that right?” asked Major O’Malley, barely controlling his anger.
Keenan was not intimidated by the display. “Yes, O’Malley, that’s fucking right. I have personal loyalties that run deep on the mountain. Friends and family up there come first—they always have and they always will. I don’t mean any offense to either of you. I need to update my commander.”
Colonel Starkes smiled and walked to Keenan’s side. “Major McLoy, Captain Dawson—would you two follow me please?” She turned and headed back to the heliport's business office and the men followed. When the four of them had entered the empty room, the colonel let the door close and pointed through the windows of the office. “Do you see the strawberry-blonde with the baby?” she asked Major McLoy.
“Nicole? Yes, ma’am, she’s real hard to miss.”
“Watch how you talk about her, Keenan,” warned O’Malley.
“Yes, Keenan, Major O’Malley has a budding romance with young Nicole.”
“Oh, yeah? Okay, sorry. What about her?”
“You see the baby? CJ?”
“Sure.”
“That’s Colonel Connor MacMillen’s son, though he probably doesn’t know this.”
Major McLoy and Captain Dawson glanced at one another.
“What’s that got to do with us, colonel?”
Colonel Starkes sighed. “Okay, I can see the continued reticence and stonewalling. I’m gonna need to fill you in with some details about the H5N1 virus that you don't know about. It’s important.”
“Okay, colonel, go ahead.”
“First off, I'm a colonel in the United States army. Understood?"
"Sure."
"But I’m also a trained epidemiologist. And, I was working as Deputy Director at DARPA when the Cuckoo Flu started annihilating the population.”
"DARPA?"
“I’ve heard of DARPA,” said Captain Dawson.
“Good, captain—why don’t you fill in the major?”
“Yes, ma’am. Sir, it’s like the secret research branch of the army. They deal in all the cool stuff like extracting alien DNA and creating superhuman soldiers.”
“Okay, captain,” interrupted the colonel. Major O’Malley was suppressing a grin. “That’s not quite right. I’ll take over from here, if you don’t mind.” She faced Major McLoy. “DARPA Special Projects was assigned by the Joint Chiefs to develop a viable vaccine response to the Avian Flu epidemic. We were in close coordination with the WHO and the CDC. You’ve heard of those organizations, haven’t you?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“Good. Well those agencies asked for our help through both official and unofficial channels. They knew we’d made great strides in protecting our military men and women against some very hostile viruses in combat zones.” She cleared her throat. “Both agencies knew our basic core inoculation of soldiers on active duty was elevating survival rates across the world by at least twenty-five per cent. Of the many soldiers who traveled extensively, nearly half of them had their families inoculated, too. Unfortunately, we didn’t stand much of a chance against H5N1. It had an aggressive timeline—it was a monster strain. I remember the damn thing would mutate every time we thought we had a handle on it. Then we had to start all over again. It was like chasing a runaway bus heading for a daycare center. And once it went airborne and started mutating aggressively—well, there wasn’t much we could do.”
“Ma’am, you did everything you could,” said Major O’Malley softly.
She smiled at him, appreciating his words. “Okay, where was I?”
“You were filling us in on why you’re looking for Mac,” answered Captain Dawson.
“Is that what he goes by, captain?” asked the smiling Colonel Starkes.
Evan Dawson blushed and hung his head so as not to see the look of derision from Major McLoy.
“Continue with your story, colonel,” said Major McLoy, “and then we’ll tell you what we know about Mac.”
“That's real good, thank you, major.” She thought for a moment, her finger to her lips. “Well, here's the deal. H5N1 essentially destroyed the human race. When you add in the impact from the radiation fallout from the unmanned nuclear power plants—the body count climbed. And the number of unburied bodies created unchecked diseases like cholera and a host of others, which created more bodies and poisoned a good bit of the water supply for a few years. Before we knew it, well over ninety-five per cent of the population was gone. Probably closer to ninety-nine percent overall mortality by the second year after the initial virus vector.”
“We're doing okay though, ma’am,” argued Major McLoy. You and the major and your people are doing okay and we’re doing okay up on the mountain. We’re still here...we beat this Avian flu.”
“Yes, that’s true, captain. On our end, we were lucky enough to regain control of the nuclear facility real close to Mount Storm right away. Certainly helped with electrical supply, water purification and sustainability of the remaining population. We were able to man several other sites in time to keep them contained. And it took a lot of time and work, but we rid the area of all the bodies within fifty miles of Storm.”
“Is there more, ma’am? I mean about the virus?”
“Oh, sorry, yes. Unfortunately, it doesn't end there. H5N1 and its airborne viral strain mutations had a hidden weapon in its arsenal that’s only come to light in the last few years.”
“What was it, ma’am?”
“It hit men below the belt, literally.”
“What?”
“H5N1 left all human males sterile. My lab confirmed this repeatedly the past few years. We’ve tested well over five thousand men the last three years from all around the country. The virus has rendered all men sterile. The few reports we received from other countries suggest it’s a global event. Further proof is in the absence of children. Have either of you seen any kids under the age of six?”
Dawson and Keenan shook their heads. The four of them looked through the window at Nicole and CJ.
“So, I guess not all men are sterile,” said Keenan. “Mac beat the odds.”
“You don’t seem surprised, major. I don’t know how Colonel MacMillen is different from other men. Do you see that other woman out there?” she asked.
“Of course, colonel, she’s a knockout.”
“Yes, she’s quite beautiful, major. Anyway, her name is Amanda and she was with Colonel MacMillen for several months—they were split up in an altercation in Cleveland. She’s the reason we’ve tracked the colonel to this point.”
“What’s that got to do with anything, colonel?”
“She’s pregnant. A few months along.”
“Terry’s gonna kick his ass,” said Dawson. He looked at Keenan. “Sorry, major.”
“Ahh, I guess it doesn’t matter, captain. The cat’s way outta the bag, I
guess.”
“Who’s Terry?” asked Colonel Starkes.
“His wife,” answered Keenan.
“She’s alive?”
“Yeah. Well, at least she was about a month ago.”
Major O’Malley smiled at the news. They were on the right track. It was clear now why Colonel MacMillen braved the travel all the way from Australia. He was coming home to see his wife. He needed to know if she were still alive—he was coming here to find out. “Does Colonel MacMillen have kids?” asked Major O’Malley.
“Yeah, major, they got two kids—Liam and Shannon. He has two brothers, too. Andy and Mad Dog—ahh, Ryan. They’re both ex-military and still alive. His two sisters didn’t make it.”
“What else can you tell us, Keenan?” asked Colonel Starkes.
“Ma’am, I need to let General Harmon know. I should do it now.”
“In a little while, major.”
“No, ma’am, it’s gotta be now. General Harmon knows Mac very well. The general is probably Mac’s closest friend.”
“Major McLoy, you can contact your superiors in a few minutes. Tell me what else you know. I'm guessing he’s trying to make it back to a place he has in the mountains and he suspects or hopes his family is there. Where is his place?”
“It’s on Dinner Bell Road, ma’am, about a mile from Route 40.”
Major O’Malley removed a map from a pocket, opened it, and flattened it out on the desk. “Show us where this camp is,” he said to Keenan.
Keenan laughed gently. “It’s hardly what you’d call a ‘camp’, major. Route 40 runs right through the mountains—in fact, it runs clear across the country. But Mac’s place is right here,” he said, pointing to a spot on the map less than a mile east of Nemacolin Woodlands and over a mile north of Route 40.
“Is it a compound?”
“I’m not sure you’d call it a compound, but it’s well defended. Fifteen years ago, his dad died and left him the place. When his dad owned it, Mac wasn’t ever there unless it was hunting season, but when his dad died, he started spending a lot more time there. He got to know a lot a people up here and they all like him. His place is self-sustainable—even before the Cuckoo Flu. Right now, Terry’s in charge of the place.”