Today We Die (The Killing Sands Book 1)

by Daniel Wilde

  “Well, someone did something bad,” Street said. “I hope Lucky nails the bastard, even if the vaccine works and we all live happily ever after.”

  “I couldn’t agree more, Street,” I said.

  May 10, 2093—Staff Meeting—Hidden Bunker near Boston

  “Unfortunately,” Dr. Wentworth began, “our estimates from several days ago, of the death resulting from Anthrax E worldwide, appear to be right on track. Ten days ago, Doctor Fabrisio and I ran numbers that seemed to indicate that, five days from now, approximately 9 billion people will be dead. Based upon the data we are amassing and which is being collected worldwide from bunkers like ours, approximately 8.2 billion people are likely already deceased. If that’s accurate, then only 2.2 billion people remain alive on Earth.” Nobody spoke.

  “I know that seems like a lot of people still alive,” Dr. Wentworth continued, “but the problem is that there is no way to save most of them. Nearly all of the remaining 2.2 billion people will likely be sick or dead within days or weeks.”

  “Mike,” Dr. Shevchuk said, “tell us about your progress please. Can you confirm those estimates?”

  “As you know, we have incredible surveillance access to the largest cities of the world,” Mike said. “In smaller communities, though, where our surveillance is less perfect, there could be abundant life or complete destruction, either of which could change the estimates. So, no, I can’t confirm the estimates. But I can’t say they’re inaccurate either.”

  “It seems logical,” Mike continued, “to assume that smaller communities, especially in rural areas many miles outside population centers, might be more protected. But if one person in a community is sick, the rest are going to be eventually, right?”

  “Plus,” Dr. Porter interrupted, “the darn wind is really hard to stop.”

  “It seems, realistically, that the only communities that may be safe are those that are completely isolated from others, perhaps in high, secluded mountain valleys, or some of the native populations in the Amazon River Basin or the Australian Outback or the African Savannah,” John added. “But even those communities may be contaminated by the wind or the birds. We’ll probably never know the extent of death in those areas unless Mike can figure out how to hack into the IWO’s global surveillance satellite system.”

  “Which I’ve been working on for a while now,” Mike said. “Apparently, the IWO is much more secretive than I had originally thought.”

  “Not that it really matters now,” Shift said. “Whoever survives this will be governing themselves, I think.”

  May 13, 2093—Staff Meeting—Hidden Bunker near Boston

  The group eagerly anticipated the arrival of Dr. Yurgi Shevchuk. He had kept everyone out of the testing center since the release of Anthrax E, 10 days earlier. A select few had an inkling of what might be revealed, but nobody knew for sure save Dr. Shevchuk, Dr. John Silitzer and Dr. Angel Robertson, who were each conspicuously absent at the moment.

  Every other person in the bunker was in attendance at the meeting. While most of them were still nervous about who released Anthrax E, and why, it didn’t matter to the health of the group anymore. They would live or die, and nothing could change that now. But nobody had gotten sick yet, which meant that, at the least, the vaccine held the disease at bay for a time. At best, the vaccine would protect them forever. They now waited anxiously for Dr. Shevchuk to tell them their fate, if he knew.

  No person from outside the bunker was connected remotely to the meeting. Dr. Shevchuk had given the order that the information shared in this meeting should first be shared with those who contributed so much to the process.

  The excitement and nervous energy was palpable. Knees were bouncing, foreheads were shiny with sweat. Shift sat by Street and glared as he watched Andrew reach over and take Anta’s trembling hand. Dr. Porter was praying a silent prayer, head bowed. Others were also praying or mumbling to themselves. Dr. Shevchuk was taking too long.

  When Yurgi, John and Angel finally walked through the door into the crowded conference room, stifling with a mixture of sweat and humidity, the group immediately fell silent. Not a sound was heard except for the deep, ragged breathing of someone in the back.

  Dr. Shevchuk, face serious and unreadable, started slowly. “My friends, there is news, as you know.” He paused, causing several members of the group to suddenly lose hope. “Testing has been thorough and complete. As you all know—very well—the results I am about to present to you have serious ramifications for the survival of the human race.” Again he paused. “If we fail, our race may not survive. If we succeed, there will be much work to do, and even then, our race will be so decimated that survival will be harder than it has been for centuries.”

  Shift couldn’t contain himself any longer. “Yurgi! Great speech, but come on man! Out with it!”

  Dr. Shevchuk smiled. “Ladies and Gentlemen, we have succeeded!” Then he laughed, triumphantly, not even attempting to hide his euphoria.

  The room erupted with cheers and applause.

  Carón and Mike wrapped each other in a huge bear hug, clapping each other on the back, then moved on to do the same with others.

  Street ran around in a tight circle, as the room would allow for nothing more, high-fiving everyone who looked at him, and some who didn’t. Then he circled back and began again. He even gave Yurgi a quick pat on the butt as if he was celebrating an amazing play on the football field. Yurgi laughed.

  Dr. Steve Porter wept, as did many others.

  Andrew Jones squeezed Anta’s hand, then jumped up and joined Street in his celebratory run.

  Lucky Rabene, usually more calm and composed than others, pounded on the back of the chair in front of him then jumped up and down with excitement.

  Dr. Angel Robertson smiled, mischievously.

  Shift approached Anta tentatively. “Well, that’s great news.”

  “Yes, it is,” Anta replied, looking curiously at Shift with her head tilted slightly to one side.

  “Things have turned out differently than I hoped . . .” Anta noticed Shift’s gaze move toward the celebrating Andrew, then back again, “but there’s some real hope now that we can help some people, including Hasani.”

  Anta didn’t answer. Instead, she smiled sweetly as she leaned in and kissed Shift on the lips. Shift kissed her back. Nobody else even noticed.

  Dr. Latisha Bodily sat in the back row, face stoic, as sweat trickled down the back of her neck.

  May 14, 2093—Anta

  Yesterday, Dr. Shevchuk’s team began the mass production of E-rase before our staff meeting had even finished! He has called for four volunteers to leave the compound to begin vaccinations. I intend to volunteer, and I intend to take Shift with me.

  There’s no news from the moon. My last communication with Hasani was March 21. Some time shortly after that communication the message board link between the IWO and the moon was severed. Mike and his team have been trying to repair the connection, but have been frustrated at every turn. Mike thinks the physical components that work to operate the wireless connections may have been intentionally sabotaged. He believes that, if it were just a bad connection, he would have been able to get it back online by now. That presents an interesting problem. Mike has traced the connection away from our bunker but can’t tell where, or why, the connection is lost. He is completely baffled, which is strange.

  In any event, the five people on the moon, whether they are alive or dead, have only partial knowledge of the conditions here on Earth. While they’re probably alive given all the information we had about their circumstances, what hope do any of them have of any semblance of real life on the moon, without family and friends, and with little hope for return to Earth.

  May 19, 2093—Shift

  Four days ago, Anta and I, along with Dr. Angel Robertson and Mr. Threet “Street” Kimball were selected to go to the surface. Owing to the intelligent designs of Dr. Shevchuk, only four of us will be leaving the compound tomorrow morning,
with others possibly leaving later after we work out the kinks and make sure the search and rescue process actually works. We’ll proceed above ground and then head northwest toward Canada, away from the bigger cities of the East coast and the Midwest.

  Dr. Wentworth’s estimate of life is now under 50 million people worldwide, and more than half of those people are in northern Africa, of all places. It’s extraordinary that, in the countries and communities surrounding El-Alamein, more human life can be found than the rest of the world combined. The containment measures taken in El-Alamein were completely successful. I am sooooo glad we weren’t there. Clearly nothing escaped the foam. Even though southern Africa fell early, the desert that kept the disease at bay for so long must have continued to protect northern Africa.

  Most of the remaining survivors may still die though since there aren’t any active research facilities anywhere near northern Africa. Not one person among us is a pilot or has had any pilot training; nor do we have access to the clearance encryptions required to start up any modern aircraft. Mike could probably get his hands on some, but then what? Even if we do access a modern craft, or if we find an old craft that still works, we still can’t fly. We thought Lucky might have received some flight training as part of his government employ, but no luck. There are other bunkers closer to northern Africa than us, and maybe some have pilots. If so, it will be up to them to reach northern Africa—hopefully before it’s too late.

  Dr. Wentworth theorizes that, even though our small group and small groups from other bunkers will be saving some people, and even though several thousand people are located in bunkers like ours, within 4-5 days there will be less than 40,000 survivors worldwide. Within 8-9 days, there could be as few as 10,000, and nearly all of them will be located in bunkers and other, presently-unknown safe havens waiting for teams like ours to reach them.

  Hasani and the others on the moon don’t know that a vaccine has been created. They don’t know anything about what’s occurred here over the past few weeks. With communications out we don’t know how to even begin to solve the problem of those trapped on the moon; maybe the IWO or someone else is already working on that.

  Dr. Porter hasn’t been able to reach his son in four days. He’s bursting at the seams to get out of here. I suspect Yurgi won’t be able to contain him once we’ve left.

  “So, John,” I said. “What do you plan . . .” John wasn’t looking at me. He was looking at Andrew as he walked into the mess hall where John and I were just beginning to eat.

  A quick look and I could see why John was staring. Andrew had a black eye. His self-conscious, head-down posture was so unusual that he immediately drew attention to himself. A couple of people asked if everything was okay with him, but he just grunted and looked away. After quickly grabbing some food, he slouched at a table in a far corner by himself.

  “I wonder what happened,” John said.

  “Beats me,” I said.

  “Looks like someone has been beating Andy,” John replied, snickering.

  When Anta came in a couple minutes later, she was also acting unusual, but in a totally different way. She held her head high and had a pasted-on smile. She responded to greetings with a curt nod and a ‘fine, thanks’. After carefully selecting her food, she looked around briefly then marched off to an empty table about as far away from Andrew as she could get and still be in the same room. She set down her food tray and handbag, removed a paperback book from her bag and started eating and reading, as if defying anyone to disturb her.

  I was confused. John, sitting next to me, elbowed me in the ribs and told me to close my mouth or I might catch a fly. That broke me from my trance. I slowly turned to face John with a ‘what gives’ expression, which made him laugh.

  “I’ll go ask.” John continued laughing at my obvious confusion and got up from the table. I looked from Anta to Andrew and back again several times, trying to understand what I was seeing. John reached Anta’s table and said a few words, pointing to the seat opposite Anta. Anta looked up briefly and nodded without answering. John sat down. They spoke briefly, Anta’s eyes never leaving John’s, her expression not changing. Then John got up and returned to our table, smiling. Anta returned to her book.

  Looking around the room I noticed there were a few curious looks, at Anta, at Andrew, even at me and John.

  “What?” I asked quietly once John was seated and eating again.

  “Not here,” was his reply. “Too many eyes and ears.”

  I stood up and grabbed my food tray, my lunch half eaten. With my free hand on John’s elbow, I pulled on him to get him to stand. “Let’s go, then.”

  John, who had his mouth open and a forkful of pasta halfway to his mouth, lost the noodles to the floor and groaned as he hurriedly grabbed his tray and followed. We deposited our trays with the other dirty dishes and left the room.

  Out in the hallway I stopped and turned on him. “Ok, what happened?”

  “She was not real forthcoming. All I will say is that you better make time to talk to her . . .”

  I was already turning to go back into the cafeteria when John grabbed my arm and stopped me. “. . . after she finishes lunch man. Find her alone and be polite, not demanding like you’re being with me.” These last words were said in mock protest, as if I had damaged his pride.

  “What did you say? What did she say? Word for word.”

  “Oh, come on Shift! Everyone knows she loves you, except you. She’s been through some tough days here, just like you and the rest of us.”

  “I know she has. I’ve been trying to push the pain aside and get things done. Just like you and the others.”

  “Well, maybe you’ve been too busy to notice that she needs you right now. Andrew saw it and tried to be sympathetic. He just had the wrong motive.”

  I stared at John, trying to grasp what he was saying. “Shift, Anta told me that Andrew came to her room this morning. She slugged him for misinterpreting their relationship and trying to take advantage of her—Anta’s words.”

  “What have I done, John? Will I lose her before I even had her?”

  “Don’t add insult to injury, Shift. Just go talk to her. No, actually, go listen to her. Let her talk.”

  John walked away, down the hall. The thought crossed my mind that neither of us finished our lunch. Then I shook my head in wonder that I could think of something so trivial when what was left of my world was falling apart.

  Anta slugged Andrew. Andrew is sulking. Anta loves me? And how have I acted toward Anta? “Idiot!” I said out loud to myself. I’ll go talk to her right now, I thought. No, I’ll wait here and talk to her as soon as she’s done eating. No . . . I don’t know what I’ll do. I was getting a headache thinking about it.

  I went to my room, paced back and forth in the four feet between the door and my bed. Then, noticing that was the shorter distance in my room, turned 90 degrees and paced the ten feet between my desk and the dresser at the other end of the room. After pacing for a while I busied myself doing . . . actually, I don’t remember what I did, but it took about twenty minutes to do it.

  Finally, I couldn’t stand it anymore and went to Anta’s room. I stopped outside her door, raised my hand to knock, and then started second guessing. Had I waited long enough? What was I going to say when she answered the door? Was I capable of just listening? While I was standing there with my hand in the air a female voice spoke immediately behind me.

  “Are you deep in thought or frozen in place?” Anta! There was laughter in her voice. I spun around, almost hitting her in the head with my raised arm that had been poised to knock. It made her flinch, but the smile didn’t leave her face.

  “I . . . I . . .” What was I going to say?

  “Not frozen, but the cat has your tongue, I see.”

  Then it all came out at once. “Anta, I wanted to talk to you in the cafeteria, but John said I shouldn’t, that I should wait until later . . .” Anta raised her right hand and placed her index finger to my li
ps. “Shhh . . . It wouldn’t have been a good result. I needed time to think things out.” I just stared, speechless.

  “You’re here now. Come in and we’ll talk.”

  She was so calm about it. Didn’t she realize that I had almost ruined everything? Or maybe I had ruined everything. We went in and she pulled me down next to her on the bed instead of sitting in the two chairs.

  “Anta, I need to apologize . . .”

  “No, you don’t. I need to explain, so just listen. I knew you were struggling with the deaths in your family, so I tried not to bother you with my problems.”

  “But . . .”

  “Quiet! Me first. I know you care about me and I care about you. This whole Anthrax-E mess could ruin a beautiful relationship if we’re not careful. We’re going out on the surface tomorrow and there’s a lot to focus on. I want our relationship to progress, but some things may have to wait.” I was not only speechless, but feeling so stupid. I had no idea she had thought this through as she had.

  She continued. “We still may not survive this. We don’t want to go too fast. But I believe there will come a time in the near future when we can think seriously about ourselves.” Then she stopped talking and smiled, that beautiful smile that lights up her face.

  “What about Andrew?” I asked hesitantly.

  “I allowed Andrew to get close to me because I needed someone and didn’t want to bother you with my problems when you were still so upset over your own problems. It was a mistake. He misread my needs and pressed the relationship to be something I didn’t need or want. I’m fine now.”

  I felt so stupid. We sat side by side, our thighs touching, her two hands wrapped in my hands, and a careful smile slowly lit my face to match hers; but it quickly began to fade.

  “I am scared to death Anta! What’s going to happen?” I asked self-consciously.