Huddled Masses (JP Warner Book 2)

by Derek Ciccone

  “So in the end, all you’ll have to show for your efforts is a few months of terror, and a chemical attack on a major city. Horrific, sure, but certainly not revolutionary. In fact, it’s been done before … in 2001, exactly 224 years to the day that the Battle of Brandywine took place. Turns out you’re nothing but a bad sequel, Hakim.”

  I knew my speech would set him off, but there needed to be a call to action. If we were going to die in this tomb, we might as well do it on our schedule.

  His body was limp, but his face was ablaze. He held his fist triumphantly in the air and found a final shout in his voice, “I for one have the will to give my life for the cause!”

  He pulled a large knife from beneath his sheets. For a moment, I thought he was going to rise out of the bed like a horror movie and stab us all. But that just wasn’t realistic in his condition, and if there was ever a lesson in the harsh realities of the world, this was it. What was within his reach was the cord to his dialysis machine, which he sliced in half.

  The final battle had been launched.

  Chapter 68

  I’ve known Gwen Delaney for over thirty years. So when I grabbed her hand to pull her in the direction of the exit, I knew she’d pull away.

  She was not leaving without her friend. And it wasn’t even worth my breath to explain that Allison was probably already dead. The fact that Hakim didn’t even assure us that she was alive, to use as leverage, whether she was or not, didn’t make me feel any more confident.

  Gwen was in charge now—moving from door to door all the way down the hallway, screaming, “Allison!” at the top of her lungs. Problem was, they were all locked and soundproof.

  I’d almost expected Jovana to declare us liabilities and shoot us on the spot, but she was too busy running in the other direction. We could commit suicide if we wanted; she was getting out of here.

  But she surprised me with her return. And she didn’t come empty handed. She was carrying the bloody hand of an older man, and by process of elimination, I determined it came from Hakim.

  Gory as it was, it was also practical. We would need it to enter these rooms. So we hurried one by one, using the hand to unlock the security code. The fifth door opened to find a weary looking, but very alive Allison Cooper. She was wearing Gwen’s Columbia sweatshirt, which she’s convinced is good luck, and I was starting to come around to her thinking.

  Gwen and Allison hugged. When they broke the embrace the first thing Allison asked was about her children. I thought if she wanted to see them again, we best be moving. Jovana actually said it.

  We ran down the hallway until we reached the elevator. Jovana pressed Hakim’s hand against the control board, and it opened. She pushed us on, but didn’t follow. She then gave me the hand, literally.

  “Use it to get through security … and get out of here as fast as you can,” she urged.

  I was confused. “What are you doing?”

  “I’m going to try to stop the chemicals from being released. It’s a long shot, but I have to try.”

  “Are you nuts? Let’s get out of here!”

  “I guess I’m also willing to die for the cause.”

  “Then I’m coming with you,” I said, and began to step off the elevator.

  “Not a chance, Warner,” she said, and held up her gun.

  Before I could counter, the elevator doors shut in my face, and we were upward bound. What just happened?

  Gwen tried to comfort me, “She’ll be okay, JP—you’ve been in tighter spots than this, right?”

  I faked a smile back at her, but I didn’t see how there was a way out.

  The elevator took us to the only floor it stopped at. We then re-traced our steps, using the flashlight to maneuver through the dark corridors. The one thing we had going for us was what I had told Hakim—these mercenaries were not willing to go down with the ship. They were likely using a timing mechanism, to make sure they were long gone when the bombs went off, buying us some time.

  We found our way up the many staircases, my knee throbbing, my head dizzy, and used the hand ID to exit back through the OFF LIMITS door. Once through, we ran as fast as we could through the dark showroom, then the office, and what the hell?

  The office was full of employees. I guess you don’t get weekends off in the carpet cleaning business. I thought this was a good time to dump the hand … in the first garbage can I found, and began yelling, “Bomb! Get out now!” Gwen and Allison followed my lead, and began shouting the same, while never slowing down.

  A couple guys looked at us like we were kidding, as if it was some office prank. Their laughter ceased when Allison grabbed them by the shirt collar and practically dragged them out. You could tell which of us was experienced with children.

  It wouldn’t be enough to do the heroic leap out of the building just before the explosion, like in the movies. The remnants of this blast might spread for hundreds of miles. The best bet was to take one of the vans and drive as fast, and as far away from here as possible. As we reached the exit leading into the warehouse, I looked back and implored the workers to follow us.

  We ran to the same van we’d arrived in, and sped away, doing what General Washington did best—retreating. Behind us was a line of vans, filled with GWCC employees, trying to avoid being the longest funeral procession in history.

  We were about a mile away when the ground began to shake.

  Chapter 69

  Homeland Security had set up a command center in the parking lot of the nearby King of Prussia Mall.

  Balloon-like tents were used to shield us from any poison or radiation that had been released in the air. Alerts were sent from Boston to Washington DC, warning citizens to stay inside and close all windows and vents. The report mentioned the explosion in Valley Forge, and the possible release of “dangerous chemicals.” It didn’t use words like terrorism, sarin, and Huddled Masses, but that didn’t stop the collective freak-out from a country already on edge.

  I remained barricaded—not by choice—in one of the tents, stripped down to my boxers. I looked to Gwen and Allison, and said, “Well, I guess if I had to live through Armageddon, I would want to do it with two hot babes in their underwear.”

  Gwen turned to me. “Seriously?”

  “Bad timing?”

  “Just bad.”

  Agent Hauck of Homeland Security entered, still wearing his Hazmat suit, but carrying the headgear. I took this as either a good sign, or that we’re totally screwed so what’s the point?

  “The good news is our initial tests showed no signs of sarin, cyclosarin, mustard gas, or any other chemical agent in the air. Or on your clothing or belongings,” he said.

  Gwen and I traded a disbelieving glance.

  “Just to be safe, we will continue to hold your items, and the alert will remain in force for the next eighteen hours.”

  He handed us a shopping bag. “Here are some clothes I picked up in the mall. I didn’t know sizes, but these looked one-size-fits-all. Consider it a gift from Homeland Security.”

  We quickly put on the assorted clothing. But instead of saying thank you, I asked, “Are you sure there’s no chemicals?”

  “No—I just made it up to make you feel better. We’ll all be dead by nightfall.”

  “In the cold, still air, similar to this morning, a plume of gas can get above the boundary level, and with the right wind pattern can travel long distances. In a similar situation during the Gulf War, the sarin gas traveled 300-miles from Iraq to the US base in Saudi Arabia. They also thought it was a false alarm.”

  “Thanks for the history lesson, but the Gulf War was a long time ago, and we have much more sophisticated tracking methods these days.”

  “Did you look at the satellite photos? Often you can see a yellow patch if the gas gets above the boundary level.”

  “I work for Homeland Security … we occasionally train for things like this. But we appreciate you offering your expertise.”

  “You’re very welcome. And i
f you need anything else, I’ll be here.”

  “What I need, is for you to start telling me the truth about what happened.”

  “I thought I already did.”

  “So your official story is that you were doing a report for GNZ on the growth of small businesses in America?”

  “I’m technically retired, but still contracted to do four features a year.”

  “I’ll be sure to set my DVR. And this ‘feature’ focused on General Washington’s Carpet Cleaning, because of its unprecedented growth this past year. So you drove to Valley Forge this morning to meet with founder and CEO, David Tully. And to use your words, you ‘stumbled’ upon something, which led you to believe there was an impending chemical weapons attack by Huddled Masses. You evacuated all employees, just before the building imploded, and saved the day.”

  “That sounds about right.”

  “And you were assisted by a CIA agent named Jovana, who either didn’t have a last name, or you didn’t know it.”

  “Have you been able to locate her? She separated from us, hoping to stop the chemicals from releasing,” my voice strained with concern.

  “If she actually exists, which according to the CIA, no agent by that name does, and she was inside that building, there was no way to survive that.”

  My stomach sank. But deep down, I knew she was a goner the moment that elevator door shut. “She gave her life to try to stop this attack.”

  “Someone must have. Or another possibility—no such attack existed.”

  “So you’re saying that we’re lying?”

  “And not very well. I think there are three possibilities to explain what’s going on—one, you could have created a hoax to bring attention to yourself, for which you will receive a long prison sentence, and repay all costs associated with the explosion. Two, you’re holding out on us, which would be lying to a federal agent, which again, will result in a long prison sentence. Or three, we determine that you are working with Huddled Masses like your buddy Nora Reign was, making you an enemy combatant, and that way we can hold you indefinitely without a trial.”

  “You should talk to Agent Hawkins at the FBI—he’ll vouch for my character.”

  “I don’t think you understand how serious this is, Warner. Either you start telling me the truth, or I’m going to start booking your itinerary for Guantanamo.”

  “You want the truth?”

  “If you do a Jack Nicholson imitation, I’m going to send you directly to prison.”

  “The truth is, General Washington Carpet Cleaners was a front for Al Muttahedah and their leader Hakim. They created both Huddled Masses and Whiskey Tax with the intent of dividing America, and the long-term goal of starting a civil war. Like all criminal masterminds, Hakim brought us to his lair to explain his evil genius, before launching his final attack. It was your typical B-movie.”

  Hauck turned and began to walk away. “I’ll be back whenever you want to get serious. I’ll get that itinerary started.”

  I guess he really didn’t want the truth after all. And I could add Homeland Security to the long list of law enforcement agencies I’ve annoyed at one time or another. The reporter seeks truth, while law enforcement seeks to catch the “bad guys,” and I’ve learned that the two don’t always mix.

  Chapter 70

  “Do you think Hakim was bluffing?” Gwen asked me.

  “No.”

  “Do you think Jovana was able to stop it?”

  I shook my head. “There just wasn’t enough time.”

  “I’ll bet his son swapped the chemicals out,” Allison said. “Marty used to talk about a David Franklin, from back when they went to Wharton together. They used to call him Benjamin Franklin because he would always be doing these crazy science experiments in his spare time. He would know about chemicals.”

  “He denounced his father, and was forced to join the family business, so it’s not out of the realm of possibility that he tried to sabotage his father’s plans,” Gwen said.

  “It’s possible,” I said. “I did a story on chemical weapons a few years ago. The only way to break down a chemical agent like that is either incineration or neutralization. To neutralize it, he would have to use some sort of water and caustic compound, like sodium hydroxide. But the more likely scenario is nobody stopped it—that it just didn’t work. That’s the thing about dispersing chemicals into the air to use as a weapon—it’s risky and inefficient.”

  My own words grabbed me, and sent me into thought.

  “What is it?” Gwen asked.

  “When it comes to mass murder, Hakim has always believed in efficiency over style. Remember how crazy he got when he thought I compared his work to 9/11? He would never use such a risky method for his ‘final battle.’”

  “But didn’t he say this was just the beginning of the war? I might be leaving this planet, but our work is just beginning.”

  “You’re right, he did say that. But he also claimed that when his dialysis machine stopped, it would trigger the ‘final battle.’”

  “The two statements are contradictory.”

  “Only if ‘final battle’ was referring to his life, or an attack by Huddled Masses. But not if it was one of his historical references.”

  “I’m not following.”

  “If Fort Sumter was the first battle of the Civil War, what was the final battle?”

  Gwen nodded, now seeing where I was going with this. “Wasn’t it that courthouse in Virginia?”

  “The Appomattox Court House,” Allison assisted.

  I shook my head. “I think that’s where Lee surrendered to Grant, but I’m not sure it was the final battle.”

  I knew someone who would be sure. I pulled out my phone, which received a strange look from Gwen, who mentioned, “We were supposed to have all our items checked for contamination.”

  “You heard Agent Hauck—it was just a big hoax. No harm, no foul, right?”

  She rolled her eyes as I made the call.

  “JP—thank God you’re alright,” my mother answered. “I just realized that you hadn’t returned home last night, and I became concerned that my loyal but foolhardy son had gone to Charleston to try to help his friends.”

  “Charleston? No, I would have just gotten in the way,” I said.

  “I’m just so glad it ended without further violence,” she continued. “I was up all night, hanging on every perilous moment. It reminded me so much of last summer, when you were hostage, and finally I couldn’t take it anymore. I felt so horrible for Byron and his mother, they are such wonderful people, they didn’t deserve such a thing. And for Christina, who was obviously forced to say those horrible things about the Jaspers.”

  “All that’s really important is that nobody got hurt.” And that she would stop talking long enough so I could get to the reason I called.

  “It sounds like the head of the museum is going to make it. There are a lot of conflicting reports, but it seems as if the captors saw the light and surrendered. It’s being reported that everyone is being detained for questioning—we’ll probably learn more when that’s over.”

  My guess was that a super-sized former wrestler helped them to see that light.

  “Then just when my faith in humanity had been restored, I woke up this morning to learn of this horrible explosion in Pennsylvania, and possible poisonous chemicals released in the air. The world was a much more simple place when we didn’t own a television!”

  “I heard about that. I guess it’s not as bad as they expected though, so that’s a positive.”

  “Until the next disaster hits … probably this afternoon, the way things are going. I’m just glad you’re nowhere near there. Speaking of which, where are you, JP?”

  “That’s sort of why I called. Gwen and I decided to take a trip this weekend to check out some historical sights from the Civil War and …”

  She began laughing. “You are such a terrible liar, JP … where are you really?”

  I chuckled nervously.
“You got me. We’re actually at the mall. But we’re in a debate about what was the final battle of the Civil War. Gwen said it was the Appomattox Courthouse, but I thought it was Gettysburg.”

  “Now that sounds more like you two. And for the record, you’re both wrong. Appomattox wasn’t really a battle, but a surrender.”

  “That’s what I told her.”

  “But it was much closer to the final battle, chronologically speaking. Gettysburg took place two years prior, in the summer of 1863 … I can’t believe you didn’t remember that, JP.”

  “You know I’ve never been good with dates. So what was the final battle then?”

  “It was the Battle of Columbus.”

  “As in the guy with the boats? The one who thought he landed in India, but still got a holiday in his honor?”

  “Now you’re just being silly, JP—Columbus, Georgia. It took place a week after Lee’s surrender, and the day after Lincoln died. Some people believe the Battle of Palmito Ranch was the last battle, but by that time Johnston had already surrendered to Sherman, and the Confederacy had been dissolved, so history considers Columbus to be the final battle.”

  Why did Columbus, Georgia seem so familiar to me? “I think I did a story there once, but I can’t remember what it was about.”

  “Was it military related?”

  “I’m not sure … why do you ask that?”

  “Because Columbus is where Fort Benning is located.”

  Chapter 71

  Columbus, Georgia

  He drove along the Chattahoochee River approaching his destination. He passed through the gates, and numerous security checks without a hitch, as he was confident he would. He pulled the van into the two-story, single family home in the Upatoi area, located near the main post entrance. The home looked straight out of Main Street USA, giving no indication that it was inside one of America’s largest military bases.