by Sawyer, JT
Carlie looked at Shane with a startled expression and then back at Boyd. “I think most of us would like to find out about our families first and see about getting back to them,” she said.
“I understand that, Ms…” Boyd said while glancing over her figure.
“Agent Carlie Simmons.”
“Right now, Ms. Simmons, I was told to escort you down here and then get you familiarized with your new home.” He took off his mottled tan cap and ran a hand over his stubbly hair. “I won’t pretend to know what you’ve all been through but in case you’ve not gotten any fresh intel on this pandemic, we are, ugh…” He paused while swallowing hard. “We’re all that’s left in the American Southwest as far as we know, other than a few scattered pockets of survivors in the smaller towns.”
“But what happens after…” Shane paused as everyone stopped to look at the approaching entourage of people led by President Huntington. Four men were dressed in the typical garb of the Secret Service that Carlie knew all too well. She didn’t recognize any of them. The other three people looked to be assistants.
All eyes turned towards the president and everyone stood at attention as he walked by. Boyd quickly stepped aside and he and his men formed two lines on either side of Carlie and her group. Eliza pushed past everyone and burst into her father’s arms. The president engulfed her, running his hands over her hair while he closed his eyes, sighing and squeezing her tighter.
When he was done, the president took a deep breath and adjusted his tie. Then he walked past Boyd and stood before Carlie and her group, quickly glancing at Carlie and then into each person’s eyes. “I am indebted to each of you for your valor. When time permits, I’d like to speak with each person here privately. Right now, I have some pressing matters to attend to as you might imagine so get a well-earned meal and take time to catch your breath.” He paused, raising both hands up. “And welcome to our new headquarters for the time being.”
The president turned and put his arm on Eliza’s shoulder while giving Carlie a brief stare before he walked away, enveloped by his staff. As he did, Phillip rushed past Boyd and scurried alongside the president’s protective detail.
Jared moved up alongside Shane, Carlie, and Matias who were still gazing at the president as he and his group floated across the concrete floor like a single-celled organism. “Wow—I thought he’d at least have given y’all a handshake,” said Jared. “That guy’s got no panache—when’s he up for re-election?”
“This must be your first interaction with the federal government,” said Carlie. “Where, despite your most gallant efforts, you’re always looked at as the bridesmaid, never the bride.”
Boyd extended his hand towards a hallway to their right. “This way, if you please. We’ll stop at medical first and then get you some fresh fatigues to change into.”
“Feels like I’m back in basic,” said Carlie. “Hope they aren’t gonna require me to get a brushcut, too.”
“Now that would be a real crime,” Jared said, looking at her golden-blonde hair pulled back in a ponytail.
Carlie gave him a sideways glance and smirked, still not sure what to make of the charming Southerner.
As they walked side by side down the cavernous passage, workers briefly paused to stare at the motley group of survivors covered in dust, scratches, and torn clothes with their tarnished rifles hanging off their sides.
Chapter 2
Bonn, Germany, Eleven Days before the Pandemic
Pavel Dimitrikov was sipping a cup of jasmine tea while poring over his research notes on genetic mutations. The summer was almost over and the large elm tree which shaded his back porch was already beginning to show leaves whose time was nearly at an end.
Occasionally, he looked up past the rim of his silver bifocals to his eight-year-old granddaughter playing in the garden beside his wife, or to identify a songbird that had landed on the cedar fence line. It had been several weeks of work abroad in his job as a NATO bioweapons inspector and he longed to get back to his university research, which didn’t involve so much red tape and so many endless debriefings. Pavel put his notebook down on the small round table, leaned back in his chair and clasped his hands behind his head, taking in the scenery and inhaling the fragrance from a nearby lilac bush.
After a few minutes he stood up and went into the kitchen to replenish his tea cup when he heard his work cellphone ringing. With a sluggish gait, he forced himself over to the front door and picked up the phone off the walnut corner table. Staring at the screen on the encrypted phone, he scrunched his eyebrows together and hastily activated the device while balancing his tea cup in his other hand. How many more statements do they need from me on that last weapons inspection we did? It’s Sunday for crying out loud.
“This is Pavel…look, I already turned in my report,” he said with a slight hint of his Russian accent.
“Still the same short-tempered Pavel that I remember,” said a gravelly voice. “It’s been a long time, old friend.”
Pavel’s face grew still and he slowly lowered the tea cup down to the table. He looked down the hall at the rear porch to make sure his wife and granddaughter were still playing in the yard, then he opened the front door and went outside. “Viktor Kruschenko….is that you? Why are you calling me? And how is it you have my number? This is my secure phone for work.” Pavel’s eyes shot a penetrating gaze up at the clouds beyond the treeline as a flood of past images working in bioweapons research facilities in the former Soviet Republic began seeping back into his psyche.
“All these years and you still remember my last name. That’s good. I haven’t forgotten yours and knew you’d still have your hands in the bioweapons field somehow, even if it’s for humanitarian reasons,” the man said with sarcasm in his voice. “The agency thought it best that I head up this new operation once they received some significant intel that I know is going to interest you,” Viktor said with a Georgian dialect. “And you will want to be in on this too, trust me. In fact, we need you, of all people, on this venture.”
A neighbor walked by Pavel’s house, nodding at him, and he forced out a smile while waving a trembling hand back. “I have tried to forget what we did all those years ago slaving away for the empire,” Pavel said. “It’s only my work as an inspector that has allowed me to partly atone for my sins. I don’t want anything to do with you or any clandestine agencies anymore, there are too many memories of the horrors we almost unleashed on the world.”
“Well, this time, we can finally put to rest the last great mystery that has plagued us both for so many years and be done for good with those horrors.”
“What do you mean?”
“KAD97—that’s what I mean, Pavel. The final site has been located after all these decades. Last night a military base intercepted a transmission from a group of smugglers in the tropics. The call indicated the discovery of a mass grave in a remote section of jungle. Some of the corpses had Soviet-era clothing typical of the early Cold War years and each body bore a complexion with unusual facial features. The most astounding thing was that there was very little decay in the corpses that had been buried for over fifty years.”
Pavel raised a hand to his mouth while he felt the blood rush to his temples. He forced himself to inhale and pushed the phone closer to his ear as if wanting to climb through to the other side. “How is that possible? The location of that site was rumored to have died with the last scientist involved and even I thought it had been a legend.”
“I can’t tell you anymore unless you are in on this with me and the rest of my rapid-response team. We pull out the day after tomorrow.”
Pavel opened the door and looked back inside for signs of his wife. Standing beside his tea cup, he slid his finger along the rim of the porcelain while staring down into its amber-colored contents.
“Did you hear me, Pavel? I can use your help on this. We can bury this one last mystery for good.”
Pavel took a deep breath and pushed the cup away. “Alrigh
t, where to? At least tell me that?”
“Better pack a hammock; we’re going to the Caribbean. That’s all I can say for now.”
Chapter 3
Four hours after arriving, Carlie was escorted by a Secret Service agent down a maze of corridors to a lower level where the president’s ad-hoc office was situated. She didn’t recognize the agent and figured he was probably the last of the president’s Personal Protection Detail out of Washington. The burly black figure had introduced himself as Agent Willis after extending his large hand which resembled a baseball mitt compared to hers. After passing through two security checkpoints with armed soldiers standing before sliding vault doors, she emerged in a circular room once used as a missile guidance control center. Lining the walls were crates of food, water barrels, and trauma supplies.
Willis spoke into the semi-concealed microphone in his sleeve and then motioned Carlie to move towards a set of steel doors ahead.
“He’s ready to see you now,” said the agent as he opened the thick double doors and led her inside. Willis took up a casual standing position alongside the right wall which was standard observation protocol for asset protection. Carlie knew the agent would stay just outside of her peripheral vision so she couldn’t see his hands move in the event he needed to withdraw his weapon quickly. It gave the agent the tactical advantage as opposed to having him stand alongside the president as most bodyguards from other countries preferred for its intimidation factor.
Upon entering she saw Phillip shaking hands with President Huntington. Carlie felt her stomach tighten and had to resist clenching both her fists as she looked at Phillip’s mouse-like features. He had barely proven to be an asset in their escape from Tucson and his constant second-guessing of her decisions had eroded what was left of her faith in the man—if she could even refer to him as such. He’s probably recounting his daring escape and his command decisions, she thought. Or trying to make a case for why he deserves a medal of valor. What a worthless gimp.
“Thank you, sir. I appreciate your confidence in me and won’t let you down,” Phillip said, shooting a glance at Carlie as she approached.
“That will be all then. I except to have your first report at our next briefing tomorrow,” said President Huntington as he rolled up the sleeves on his white silk shirt.
Phillip strode past Carlie with his chin tilted while clearing his throat. She rolled her shoulders back and narrowed her eyes at him as he passed. Carlie wasn’t sure what was about to unfold but she sure as hell wasn’t going to allow Phillip the luxury of gloating.
She approached the president’s large steel desk and stood with her arms rigid at her sides. The president’s hair was neatly combed but his face bore the lines of sleep deprivation and he kept correcting his posture to keep his back arched. His tie was missing and the upper button of his shirt was undone.
“Ms. Simmons, we meet in private at last.”
She readied to extend her right hand but withheld it on seeing his arms cross against his chest.
“Sir, I am glad to see that you are alive.”
He looked her over and his clenched jaw gave way to a faint sigh. “How the world has changed during the past few days. Take for instance the oath that my Secret Service agents pledge in defending the first family and those under their protection. Until this pandemic struck, I didn’t think I’d ever live to hear about an agent abandoning their sworn duties.”
“Sir, if I may…”
“What you may do is stand there while I finish, Agent Simmons,” said Huntington while leaning forward with his hands extended on the edge of the desk. “I’ve already spoken with my daughter, agents Shane and Matias, and Phillip about what unfolded during the rescue effort in Tucson. If my daughter had her way, she’d erect a bronze statue of you in the dining hall. The DEA agents provided me with an excellent after-action report of how grim things were and what you actually endured—the likes of which most others would not have prevailed in. As for Phillip, he would like to see you publicly flogged.” The president paused and stood upright while Carlie looked at the man and then over his shoulder at the gray wall ahead. “But I know pundits like Phillip all too well. He spends his life arguing legal cases and wooing agency supervisors which is why he’s going to be the new intergovernmental liaison so he can keep the hell away from field ops.”
Carlie was sifting over the words she thought she had just heard, not certain if she was going to be demoted, fired, or exiled from the base. She had heard from other agents how hardnosed and blunt Huntington could be with his staff but hoped that he was the well-balanced individual she had voted for and sworn to one day protect.
Huntington stood up and walked around the desk and stood next to Carlie. She looked straight ahead, bracing for the impact of what was coming next, hoping that she would be dismissed from her duties and cut loose to head on her own to California. She had told herself on the helicopter flight that she was done with the Secret Service but found her self-disciplined exterior still maintaining the old façade of control while her inner world was treading a fault line of ambiguity unfamiliar to her.
“Agent Simmons, I’m torn between wanting to salute you and wanting to slap you. Not sure which it’ll be yet. In your defense, I was a navy pilot in years past, as you no doubt recall, and know all too well how chaotic things can get in actual combat.” He paused, running his hand through his hair. “But our rules and oaths exist for a reason—to keep us on track when everything falls apart. Without that compass, the task ahead becomes clouded. And there are going to be plenty of arduous tasks in the weeks and months to come in this nightmare of a world.
“Yes, sir,” Carlie said, looking briefly at the president and then recasting her eyes on the dappled contours of the wall before her.
“More than ever, I need the people under me following orders and not running a Wild West show when the urge strikes them—is that clear?” He raised his voice, leaning towards her.
“Crystal clear, sir.”
He walked along the map-adorned wall, glancing at the crossed-off cities throughout the U.S. As he paced, he rubbed his hand along the back of his neck. “General Adams is assembling teams composed of special operations personnel. You’ll report to him for further orders. My daughter’s protection will fall under my Secret Service detail now as she’ll be staying by my side for the immediate future. Your skills will be better utilized on the frontlines.”
Carlie swallowed hard, trying to retain a stoic surface while feeling her breathing constrict. She looked at the president, who had circled back around his desk across from her. “Thank you, sir. Will there be anything else?”
“No…” He paused, taking a breath. “No, you are dismissed. General Adams will be giving a briefing in 45 minutes in the central auditorium that all personnel need to attend. After that, talk to him. He’ll be your new C.O.”
Carlie nodded and turned. As she walked away, she let out a slow sigh and then paused and turned around. “One thing I’d like to mention sir—your daughter—she is as resilient as she is fearless and it was an honor to be on her detail.”
Huntington nodded back at her. Carlie resumed moving towards the double doors and closed them behind her.
Back inside, President Huntington glanced at the photo of his daughter on the desk, stroking the image with a finger and then staring back at the double doors ahead.
Chapter 4
General Adams was standing at the front of the podium in the conference room as everyone assembled. Carlie looked around the rectangular room and saw all manner of military and federal officials along with a handful of scientists gathered together. In its entirety, the group numbered around two hundred eighty personnel.
“How can there be so few of us?” she said to Shane, who was standing beside her. “Is this all that’s left at this base or in the entire region?”
“From an NCO I spoke with in the chow hall earlier, this is all that’s left of just the field operators and scientific personnel in
the Southwest. The rest of the people we’ve seen around the base are support personnel, medical, and a few of the president’s political advisors. All in all, there are around eight hundred people here.”
“Jesus—and this is a sparsely populated region to begin with. I wonder how other states have fared?” She cleared her throat and looked away from Shane while forcing her attention back to the crowd around her.
General Adams had an assistant dim the lights and then he began his PowerPoint presentation. The first image showed New York City during the first two hours of the outbreak followed by similar images of cannibalistic rage and carnage that played out around the country. One clip of video footage showed a river of undead pouring over the Manhattan Bridge killing hundreds of fleeing motorists; another revealed a packed football stadium during an early outbreak in Seattle where few people emerged alive after thousands of terrified fans clashed with armies of savage mutants. Chicago had gone up in flames and satellite footage of Dallas showed a derelict city occupied only by wandering bands of creatures. Carlie lowered her eyes for a moment, reminding herself that she wasn’t back in the tunnels under the university as each slide on the screen unfolded. She had to force away the memory of her Secret Service colleagues who were torn apart before her eyes and the destruction of the desert city she once called home. In a single twenty-four-hour period, all that she had known was swept away—her friends, mentors, and the promise of a coveted career in presidential protection.
“With the exception of a few isolated pockets in the U.S., every region of this country, and much of the world, saw widespread fatalities during Monday’s outbreak,” the general said.