The President had been waiting for this moment for far too long. Every night he prayed for the day he would be able to announce to the United States- and other surviving governments around the world- that a vaccine had been created.
Today was that day.
Standing anxiously next to the camera operator, a woman broke the silence.
“You're going to do fine, Joshua,” Shanna Finley said, her words as comforting and consoling as a mother’s to a child.
The President looked up and met her smile. He mouthed back the word "thanks,” then exhaled a sigh of relief.
“Just let us know when you are ready.”
Joshua took a sip of water and swirled the contents around his mouth. He cleared his throat, and then said, “Okay. I'm ready whenever you are, Bobby.”
Bobby the cameraman pressed a button and activated the electronic feed. The announcement would be sent out via the Emergency Broadcast System, and would be delivered on every communications outlet.
“We are about to go live,” Bobby said, positioning the large camera to his liking. “So please, no talking.”
The request was mainly for the two other occupants who huddled near the far corner of the room. An older woman with pale skin was wearing an elegant navy blue dress and a string of pearls around her neck. To her right stood a younger, athletic-looking man with blond hair who was dressed in a black T-shirt and camouflage pants- a set of dog-tags dangled from his neck.
“We are live in three, two,” Bobby said, finishing the sequence by holding up one finger. Then, he pointed at the President.
“My fellow Americans, fellow brothers and sisters of humanity,” said Joshua Tufase beginning the speech, “It has been nearly one year since a terrible disease plagued our world. Millions upon billions of lives have been lost. I am sure many of you have wondered what it was and how it came to be. Moreover, I am sure that all of you have prayed for an end to this war. Today, I proudly come before you to say that the tides have shifted in our favor! Today is the day I can announce that we have a vaccine!”
As the President continued his dramatic and empowering speech, the older woman signaled to the young man her intent to step outside the room. Quietly, they exited the press room and closed the door behind them.
Outside, the young man walked with a slight limp and leaned against the natural, stone wall. He ran both hands through his hair.
“I don't know how much more of this I can take.”
“Be patient,” the woman replied.
“You've been saying that to me for the last five months, mother! I feel claustrophobic! I wasn't meant to live underground like some damn rodent! I’m a Navy SEAL. I need action!”
“Now, now, brother,” another man said, strolling over. “She’s right, be patient. You’ll have your action soon enough.”
“Albert! Hello, darling. How are you?” the woman said, smiling gleefully at the arrival of her other son.
Albert Stone ran a hand over his jet black hair; gel kept it slicked back and clean cut-looking.
“Hello, mother. I’m fine. Sorry for being late. Those idiot computer technicians took forever getting me the updates.”
“Oh, honey, you never have to apologize to me,” she replied, words and tone indicating an obvious favorite child. Then, she turned and placed a consoling hand on the blond-haired man’s face. “And how many times do I have to tell you, Daytona…”
“I know. 'It's all part of the plan'. Blah, blah, blah.”
The woman backhanded him so fast, Daytona didn't see it coming. A red outline of her fingers slowly formed on his cheek.
“I've had enough of your tone!” she hissed.
Daytona Briggs was athletic, muscular and possessed a short temper that craved confrontation. He had killed countless men, but when it came to discipline, there was only one person he answered to; one person he was and always would be afraid of. Her.
“Now, now, honey,” she continued, changing to a softer tone. She rested a gentle hand on his opposite cheek. “I didn't mean to hurt you. I just need you to stay focused. Everything is riding on this next step.”
The corner of Daytona's mouth quivered. The slightest trickle of blood seeped from a broken capillary, but Daytona rubbed it away with his thumb. He licked the finger clean and then replied, “I know it is.”
“Want me to get you a Band-Aid, brother? Although I’m not sure if they make them for hurt pride,” Albert joked.
“Fuck off!”
The elderly woman retracted her hand then paced over to Albert.
“Tell me, son. Where are we at with our intelligence?”
Albert handed over a three prong folder- he already memorized the information inside.
“Geospatial Intelligence suggests that a few pockets of communities are thriving. Every large city has been taken over by the infected. All that remains are isolated communities scattered across the country. Our projections for their locations were spot on.”
The woman’s silence was a signal for Albert to continue.
“Yesterday, we received the reports from our foreign operators. I had the numbers combined with ours. We calculated ninety-six point three percent lethality worldwide.”
“Six point seven billion people gone in one year,” she said, estimating. “That is better than the projected ninety-five percent.”
“Indeed, mother.”
“It could have been higher if you allowed me to infect more cities including the Middle East,” Daytona suggested. Then he counted off the targets saying, “Quebec, Mexico City, Sao Paulo, London, Shanghai, Mumbai, Moscow, Jakarta, Lagos. Hell the closest place to that shit hole called the Middle East was Istanbul, but Turkey may as well be Europe. We even hit L.A. and New York, two U.S. cities, but no Middle East-”
“Allowed you to infect more cities? Why, so you could mess it up as bad as your translation of fareshtegan-eh marg?” Albert asked, chuckling. He remembered vividly the response his brother gave. “You translated it from Arabic, when the word was clearly Farsi! I nearly burst out laughing when Sergeant Major West put you in your place.”
Daytona curled his fingers into the scarred palms he received courtesy of Craig West. He limped over to his brother and said, “I’m warning you, Albert-”
“What, warning me that you have terrible language skills? No need for a warning, brother. I already know that,” he quipped. “Besides, you deserved the humiliation. That’s what you get for missing thirty-two percent of our meetings. And yes, I kept track.”
The woman smiled, and stood idly by as her sons bickered. She found pleasure in the constant brawn versus brains rivalry.
“Warning you that you are one smart ass remark away from a beating,” Daytona said, shoving Albert.
Opting not to push his brother over the edge, Albert answered seriously.
“Moving on, we needed the reports to indicate that every locationother than the Middle East was a target. The U.S. especially. That way, when people connect the dots, and someone somewhere will, they will believe that the virus originated from the terrorist group fareshtegan-eh marg with strong ties to the Middle East. After all, the name of the group is Persian.”
“Precisely, Albert,” the woman declared. “Fabrication and planting evidence is crucial to our success. People will believe what thefactstell them. What we tell them.”
“Whatever,” Daytona spat. “I’m just saying that it could have been more.”
“Ninety-six point three percent is the best case scenario,” Albert started to say, “after all, we don’t want to kill everyone.”
The woman’s lip curled into a faint smile as she said, “We need to release Ambrosia as planned. Now that the global cleansing has run its course, I believe we are ready for phase two.”
“Purification,” Albert finished with a sinister smile to match hers.
Daytona rolled his eyes.
“Just let me know when I can do my thing.”
“Come now. Let us go back inside and wa
tch our Commander in Chief.”
Daytona opened the door. He allowed the woman to enter first, but made sure Albert was last. They returned just in time as the President was concluding his broadcast.
“As I stated, the vaccine will be delivered and available in multiple depots across the United States. It will be up to you to figure out which location is nearest. Following this speech, the dates, names, and locations of these distribution sites will be looped continuously in order for you to get your affairs in order. Good luck and Godspeed. A new day is ahead of us, the dawn of a new era arises. Stay strong. We will survive. We will take back our lives. We will take back our country. We will take back our future.”
With that, the President signaled the end of his speech. As promised, the broadcast was transmitted and looped around the nation. Soon, a similar message would be sent to the other world leaders via a more powerful satellite broadcast.
President Tufase walked over to the others, where he was congratulated on a speech well delivered. He hugged Shanna first, shook Bobby's hand, and then turned to the others.
“Mrs. Baron, thank you very much for everything. I can’t tell you how much I appreciate you being here for the broadcast…”
“Please, Mr. President, call me Liz,” the woman politely interrupted. “And no need to thank me.”
Joshua Tufase continued. “As the owner of LIFE International, your role has been invaluable. Your company and its vaccine are going to save humanity. We are forever indebted to you.”
“Nonsense. We are all just doing our part.”
“That is a very humble attitude. In any event, thank you, Liz. From the bottom of my heart.” The President turned to Daytona. “Soldier, make sure you continue to guard this woman with your life. Her safety, especially during the deployment of the vaccine, is of upmost importance.”
“Aye, aye, sir!” Daytona declared, straightening up his posture and putting a stiff hand to his forehead. If the President had known any better, he would have realized how mocking the salute really was.
“Mr. President, I believe that you have met my chief engineer, Albert Stone,” Liz Baron said, reintroducing the two men. “If you want to thank anyone, it is his research that has paved the road to Ambrosia.”
“We are all very excited, Mr. President,” Albert said, shaking Joshua’s hand.
“Thank you, son,” President Tufase replied. “I cannot thank you enough for your hard work and perseverance-”
“Mr. President,” Shanna interrupted, “we should get going. We still have much to discuss and prepare for.”
“Very well. And again, thank you. I will see all of you very soon,” he said, exiting the press room with Shanna and Bobby.
Daytona, Albert and Liz stayed behind and waited until their words were out of earshot. Albert peered outside and watched the others walk down the cold hallway, so optimistic, so hopeful. He pulled back inside and nodded.
After a moment, Liz Baron leaned over to her sons.
“That pompous fool has no idea what he is about to unleash. Vaccine,” she scoffed. The word "vaccine" came out of her mouth with bitter disgust. “They actually believe what they are getting is just a vaccine. It's so pathetic it's almost cute. In a matter of days, the world will be reborn.”
Providence State Beach
November 28, 2009
1621 hours
Dusk had taken over in the form of a beautiful orange-ish/red sky; the promise of nightfall was minutes away. One by one, torches around the campsite were lit by the exhausted prisoners. For the last eight hours, Collin, Nick, Steve, Travis, Wally and Larry were forced to build a cage where they would literally fight for their freedom.
Most of the bikers kicked off the entertainment early by drinking and doping themselves to bliss. At Jimmy’s request, the imprisoned girls were coerced into cooking an extravagant dinner. No expense was spared.
“Jimmy!” Carlos Rodriguez shouted. He lugged his three hundred pound frame out of the prison transport bus in search of his boss. Immediately, he ran into one of the Torres twins. “Yo, Dizzy, you seen Jimmy?”
“No, just Tyler. He took over guarding those putas for me. Why what’s up? You try that huge ass boat?”
Carlos didn't bother answering. Instead, he wobbled toward the dock as fast as his frame and beating heart would allow. When he arrived, Carlos made sure to announce his presence- learning from past mistakes.
“Jimmy?” Carlos said hesitantly from outside the cabin. “Jimmy, it's me, Carlos, are you there?”
The response was muffled but audible. “What is it you fat fuck?”
Carlos couldn't tell if it was Jimmy’s standard sarcasm or if his boss was upset for the interruption. So, he assumed the worst and banked on the latter. “Jimmy, I have something you really need to hear.”
“If it's another town, it can wait,” came another muffled reply from inside the yacht's stateroom.
“No, jefe, it's not that. It's something else. I really think you need to check it out.”
Carlos heard a low, upset growl, followed by the threat, “you better pray it's worth it.” In his opinion, Carlos thought it was worth it, but his trembling hands vehemently disagreed.
Suddenly, the stateroom’s wooden doors swung open, smacking the sidewall. Jimmy barged out wearing Larry MacArthur's white, cotton robe.
“What is it?” Jimmy started to ask, and then he turned back and shouted, “I’ll be right back!”
For a brief moment, Carlos saw what he had interrupted.
Breasts exposed and only wearing a G-string, Estrella was filling up two glasses of champagne. Sarah sat fully clothed at the end of the leather couch. Even when Estrella offered her a glass, Sarah maintained her defensive pose; arms crossed, legs together and eyes down.
Jimmy turned back to Carlos and allowed the doors to spring closed behind him. “You have un minuto.”
Not wanting to test the one-minute limit, Carlos led Jimmy to the yacht’s steering column. After flipping a series of switches, Carlos powered on the yacht's radio equipment. He tuned in to a frequency that he committed to memory, then said, “Listen to this boss.”
For the next few minutes, Jimmy listened to the Presidential broadcast.
When the transmission began to repeat itself, Carlos lowered the volume. “What do you think, jefe?”
Jimmy smiled. “I think we just struck gold.” Carlos appeared confused, but Jimmy didn't explain himself. He didn’t expect the obese Mexican to understand his thought process. “Where's Tyler? Has he heard this?”
“You're the only one, boss. Wanted to bring it to you first. I think Tyler is watching the prisoners.”
***
Outside, just beyond the shadows of the ambient lighting, Craig West was preparing for battle. He stained his clothes with a combination of dirt and globs of dark river mud. Next, he applied the finishing touches of mud on his already black face- a technique used to cover up the body's natural odor.
Satisfied with his camouflaged appearance, West grabbed a bag of unknown items, and then moved stealthily around Camp’s perimeter. Careful to keep his position concealed, he knelt down behind a small section of shrubbery and waited. He needed to get the attention of Lisa Spencer.
West watched the deaf girl prepare a large vat of soup. After adding the last of the ingredients, Lisa asked the guard on duty for permission to use the bathroom.
The rough-looking biker didn’t answer her request. Instead, he found humor in her handicap. He mocked her tone deafness for an entire minute before finally granting her permission; permission to go outside in the open like an animal.
Lisa walked away and found a reasonable spot near the edge of the helipad, then squatted down to urinate. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw a strobe-like flashing.
“Come on. Over here, Lisa,” West whispered.
Curious, Lisa traced the light to a faintly lit area near Sweetie. As her eyes adjusted, she saw West in a crouched position. His unkempt, vagrant like
appearance must have startled her so much because she nearly fell back. Fortunately, she caught her balance just as the guard cast a glance in her direction.
“Elias?” she signed. “Is that really you?”
“Yes, it’s me,” he signed back. “I don’t have much time...”
For the next minute, West communicated silently with Lisa. He gave her a specific set of instructions that needed to be followed precisely. At the end, he signed the message, “Don't worry, everything is going to be fine.”
Lisa managed a small smile. “Okay.”
Then, West disappeared but left the bag concealed behind the front left tire.
***
Inside the holding cell, Travis, Nick, Collin, Steve, Wally and Larry heard the familiar clank of the door being unlocked. Unsure of who or what to expect, they dropped their food and backed up further into the cell, huddling together in a tight, fighting formation.
When the door swung open and Tyler stood alone, the prisoners exhaled sighs of relief.
“Tyler,” Travis said, approaching the metal bars. “Are you here to get us out?”
“Not sure yet.”
“What do you mean 'not sure yet'? We don't have much time!” Travis exclaimed, shaking the unmovable bars.
“Ya, come on man, get us out of here!” The others protested.
Tyler struck the bars with his baton, silencing the rest. He wanted only to hear from his brother. “Ya. Not sure. Because it depends.”
“Depends on what?”
“On you. On the truth. And believe me I'll know if you're lying.”
“Hermano, you got some serious issues. We don't have time for this right now. We have to get out of here before the fights begin!”
“Like I said, it all depends on you.”
Travis shook his head, snorting in derision. “Seriously, bro, who are are you? What happened to you?”
“Exactly. Now we are getting somewhere,” Tyler replied, pacing back and forth. “Do you mean what happened to me after you abandoned me and mama? After you left us to fend for ourselves? Shit, I don't expect you to know anything about me. But you, oh I know all about you. Before mom died, she told me that you ran off and went into the Army.”
The Longest Road (Book 2): The Change Page 28