“Hey, can you turn that up?” he asked the barkeep.
“—dent of the United States,” a spokesman said behind a gleaming wooden podium sporting the Presidential Seal. He stepped aside and President Harris came into view and took his position in front of the cameras.
“My fellow Americans. I want to be the first to relay to you the news that the monster behind the biological weapon attack on our soil, the madman who unleashed war and pestilence on the world has been brought to justice.” He looked down at his notes. “Reginald Tillcott, the 7th Earl of Dunkeith—a British subject and member of the international terror organization known as "The Council"—has been killed in a firefight in northwestern Scotland. He was the mastermind behind the plot to topple governments around the world and reduce the global human population through a mutated, weaponized strain of The Pandemic virus.”
The President removed his reading glasses. “I know that’s little enough comfort to the millions of Americans out there tonight who are suffering the loss of friends and family, taken too soon by this heinous plague…but it is something. Individuals part of the organization known as the Council are being rounded up or killed as we speak by our brave fighting men and women and our allies all over the world. These people have committed the most outrageous atrocities in human history."
Cooper regarded the President over the top of his glass. The man looked tired. Old, even. He hadn’t had any face time with the Commander-in-Chief, but when he'd been named by Denton to take on the mantle of leadership, he’d looked a lot younger. Cooper thought for a moment, slipping back in time to the bunker at the Los Angeles Air Force Base. He looked down and almost saw the hand of President Denton in his own again. He heard the President whisper to him to stay strong and rise. To never give up, to fight back.
Rise…
Brenda had been so full of life then. His throat tightened as he remembered her standing on the other side of Denton’s makeshift gurney. Her hair pulled up, she’d been covered in blood and running on empty for over 24 hours. They all had. It had been a close thing, their escape from All Saints’ Memorial.
She was so beautiful…
“…vaccine is putting the virus on the ropes. This is a momentous time in human history. Our goal is to inoculate every living person on this planet with the vaccine—much like we did with polio and smallpox. The threat posed against our species by the influenza virus will soon be a distant memory, thanks to the tireless efforts of scientists both here and abroad.”
The ticker at the bottom of the screen read: U.S. Korean Flu deaths mount: over 2 million confirmed deaths in California alone. National estimates at 10+ million. Mass graves in several states on the east coast. President to declare national curfew…
“I have issued Executive Orders granting the Federal Government powers to create unprecedented partnerships with all private facilities in the United States capable of manufacturing this vaccine to increase our emergency production and distribution as quickly as possible. To anyone out there who hasn’t caught the flu yet—stay vigilant. It may be some time before we can find you. I urge you to shelter in place and only venture outside to find what supplies you absolutely need to survive.
"To those who are infected or caring for sick loved ones, I beg you to stay strong and continue to pray. Help is coming—we are sending food, medicine, and doctors to every corner of the country utilizing federalized National Guard troops…”
He cleared his throat and took a long look at the camera. “To further heal our country, I have issued a blanket pardon to any person who supported the late-Vice President Barron and his illegal administration. This country has been brought to the brink of civil war—it has to end, right here, right now. We are all Americans and the time has come for us to pull together."
The President straightened his shoulders. "Anyone who carried out activities—criminal or otherwise—in the name of who they thought was the legitimate President of the United States shall be granted a full and permanent pardon. Only those people who committed serious felonies under a false color of authority will be prosecuted. I have directed the Attorney General to form a task force comprised of the FBI and a coalition of state and county officials from around the country to facilitate this process.”
The President shifted his notes and his face darkened. “And to those Americans who are still behind enemy lines in the Occupied States, know this: My administration will stop at nothing to liberate you. We have entered the highest levels of negotiations with the international community and I can assure you, your suffering is almost over. I have taken drastic steps to isolate North Korea through a United Nations blockade around the Korean Peninsula which is moving into place as I speak…”
“None of that does the people in California any good,” spat Charlie. “What are you doing to help them?” he shouted at the TV. “Fucking politicians.” Charlie pushed off from the bar and walked away.
Cooper tried to pay attention to the rest of Harris’ speech, but he was lost in thought, trying to imagine what it must be like for Charlie. Knowing the woman you loved was dead…it was hard, but knowing she might still be alive with your son in no-man's-land, surrounded by foreign invaders… Cooper looked after Charlie. He was still living the nightmare and now that Cooper had joined the unwashed ranks of civilians, there wasn’t a whole hell of a lot he could do to help.
For the second time in the past hour, his phone buzzed. Cooper stared at the screen as the President droned on about a bright and promising future.
Unlisted number. Who the hell is this?
“Hello?”
“Cooper Braaten?”
“Yeah. Who’s this?” Cooper shrugged at Sparky who regarded him with a curious expression.
“My name is Brent Atkins. I’m with Oakrock Security.”
Cooper laughed. “Jesus, you guys don’t mess around. What happened to Josh?”
The line went silent for a moment. “Josh…” the man’s voice sounded thick. “He didn’t make it. The flu. We lost a lot of good people, I'm sorry to say.”
“I’m sorry,” said Cooper. Josh had been his headhunter, trying to pull him into the ranks of Oakrock.
“It wasn’t as bad as it could have been.”
"What can I do for you, Mr. Atkins?”
The man cleared his throat and got down to business. “I heard about the dishonorable discharge. And the EO.”
Cooper blinked. Wow. You guys got good contacts—I don’t even think the ink’s even dry on my paperwork.
The man on the phone powered on: “I can’t say we were happy to hear about the DD, but when the Chief of Staff of the Navy calls me on my unlisted private phone at 4 in the morning and says ‘hire this guy’, I listen. I heard about what you did over there—”
Cooper blinked. “How? That’s not exactly public information…” He waved off Sparky's concerned look.
Atkins laughed. “We have our sources. Listen, I wanted to let you know the offer still stands.”
The words washed over Cooper like an avalanche. “It does?”
“Yes. You’d make an excellent addition to our team, Cooper. We need more operators of your caliber. The benefits are—I think you’ll agree—far more than anything the Navy could hope to offer you. Especially now. What do you say?”
“I…” Cooper watched Charlie stare out the front windows of the bar. He looked ready to break.
“You can have your choice of assignments—once you’re integrated. I see from the paperwork here your leg was re-injured. That was on this last op, right?”
“Yeah…” Cooper unconsciously rubbed the fresh bandage on his thigh where the shattered knee brace had tried to impale him. Thirty-two stitches and enough antibiotics for a horse had been his reward.
“Fine,” Brent said as if Cooper’s career-ending injuries were no more important than a grocery list. “We’ll get you checked out by our medical staff—we got great docs, way better than anything you'll see outside of Bethesda. I'll make sur
e you get healed first, then we’ll get you spooled up and in-stream. I talked it over with the bean counters and we can offer you one fifteen to start.”
Cooper blinked. One hundred-fifteen thousand dollars a year…holy God. His eyes met Charlie’s and the pain he saw sent a knife of guilt straight through Cooper’s gut. He may not be Charlie’s CO anymore but he would always be a brother in arms. He had to do something.
As a SEAL, as part of the Navy, there were resources, equipment, and intel available. As a civilian…he had the clothes on his back, the contents of his duffel, and a cabin in Michigan's Upper Peninsula to his name—that’s it.
Oakrock represented the only path for him to help Charlie’s family. Cooper looked down at his leg. Maybe being on the outside would give him the freedom to move around that being in the Navy never did—there was always another mission or rules of engagement that prevented them from finding Allie and Charlie.
“I’ll do it.”
“You will? That’s great! I knew—”
“On one condition,” Cooper said, steeling himself to be turned down and lose the opportunity of a lifetime. Charlie turned at the sound of Cooper’s voice.
Silence from the other end of the phone echoed like a bomb in a tunnel. “And that is…?”
“I need to retrieve some HVTs from behind the lines in California.” Cooper held Charlie’s eyes as he watched the emotions battle across his XO's face. “You provide the gear and transport. I go in, I bring them out alive—then I’m yours.”
“California?” asked Brent.
“California. They were in Coronado when it all went down.”
Atkins sucked in a breath. "Christ—that’s ground zero.”
Cooper waited, listening to the sound of his own heartbeat thunder in his ears as Charlie stepped closer.
"Coop, what's going on?" Charlie whispered.
Cooper held up a hand for silence.
“This is important to you?”
He nodded. “My XO’s family—I made a promise. I’m getting them out. The Navy made us leave them once, I’m not letting that happen again.” Charlie stared at Cooper in disbelief. Cooper saw hope flicker in his eyes for the first time since leaving Coronado.
“Fair enough.” Atkins paused for a moment. “All right, Mr. Braaten. We'll give you the material resources, but we can't spare additional personnel. If you go, you're going in solo. Is that clear?"
"Crystal," Cooper replied.
"You’ve got yourself a deal, then. Can you get to Dulles?”
Cooper thought for a moment. “I’ll manage. I didn’t think the airlines were up and running again though?”
“They’re not. We’ve got a Section 3 exception from DHS.”
Cooper’s eyebrows rose. “That’s impressive.”
“Just wait—it gets better. I’m cutting orders now for your flight to our facility in Phoenix. They’ll get you geared up and you can hammer out the mission details then. I take it you want to move on this?”
“Immediately,” Cooper said. He flashed a thumbs up at Charlie.
“What about your injuries?”
Cooper flexed his leg and winced. “The only easy day was yesterday.”
“Hooyah.”
Cooper paused. "You in the Teams?"
Atkins chuckled. "A few lifetimes ago, yeah."
Cooper liked his new employer even more. “When do you need me at Dulles?”
“That’s up to you. We have a plane there right now on standby—it was making a drop run to Montana.”
“I’ll be there by 0600 tomorrow morning—I just need to find wheels.”
"Fine. I’ll have your paperwork and new hire kit with me when we meet in Phoenix. I take pride in meeting every one of my operators face to face when they’re hired.”
Cooper swallowed his surprise—now he remembered the name Brent Atkins. President, CEO and founder of Oakrock Securities. “Thank you, sir.”
“First rule: cut the ‘sir’ bullshit. We’re all ex’s—there’s no rank at Oakrock.”
“Got it.”
“Except Ms. Sanders, my procurement assistant," Atkins whispered conspiratorially. "She is considered the Right Hand of God and will be shown the proper respect at all times.” Atkins laughed. “Not really, but if I don’t say that, she’ll put something nasty in my coffee.”
Cooper couldn't help but smile at the feminine laughter in the background.
“So we have a deal, Mr. Braaten?”
“We do—and call me Cooper.”
“Done and done, Cooper. Welcome to Oakrock.” The line went dead.
Cooper stared at the phone a moment before he put it back in his pocket. His life seemed to be on a perpetual roller-coaster—not two hours ago, he’d been dishonorably discharged and his career achievements erased over the death of one monster. Now Oakrock handed him a golden opportunity to get his life back on track—with interest—and help Charlie at the same time.
“Was that Oakrock?” asked Charlie.
“That was Oakrock,” Cooper said, pocketing his phone. He signaled the bartender. “Can I get a water?”
“What gives?” asked Sparky. “They still want your gimpy ass?”
“Yes, Sparky, they still want my gimpy ass,” Cooper said. "You cuss a lot when you drink, you know that?"
"Good thing I don't drink much."
“You’re going after…” Charlie said, his eyes pleading for confirmation.
Cooper slapped Charlie on the shoulder. “I made a promise.”
“I don’t believe it,” Charlie muttered.
Sparky frowned. "It isn't gonna be easy, man. Cali's a suicide run. The whole west coast is crawling with NKors.” He jerked a thumb at the TV, where President Harris continued his speech, promising swift action to restore the nation to law and order.
“Harris won't wait forever," the sniper observed, raising his beer to his mouth. "Now that the Council’s finished, there'll be hell to pay out west.”
Cooper nodded. “Reconquista.”
“You really think Harris will start a shooting war with 50 million Americans in the crossfire?” asked Charlie.
“He can’t afford to wait any longer,” replied Sparky. “Fuckin' NKors are feeling the heat from the Pacific Fleet's blockade. They’re getting desperate and they’re sick. We haven’t been able to get the vaccines in to our people, either.”
"It's FUBAR all right," agreed Cooper.
Charlie gripped Cooper’s shoulder, his eyes burning with hope. “I have faith in you, Cooper.” He sniffed and angrily rubbed his face. Sparky slapped him on the back and kept a hand on Charlie's shoulder. Charlie nodded.
“I know you’ll find them, Coop. I know it.”
Cooper set his jaw and held Charlie’s desperate gaze. “With my shield or on it, brother.”
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Acknowledgments
I WOULD LIKE TO thank the usual suspects, my family, my friends, and most importantly, my wonderful wife. Without her constant and unwavering support, the book in your hands or on your screen would not exist.
I also want to thank Darth, RunAndGun, and Sullie from the Survivalists Boards Forum—you guys are great and made some wonderful observations and suggestions that helped make this book the best it could be. Thank you!
I want to offer my fair attribution for the cover fonts and graphics….Elements of the cover were created in part by combining with the biohazard emblem created by Nicolas Raymond (www.freestock.ca).
Last but not least, I wish to thank you, my reader. Thanks for sticking
with me on this wild ride through the Wildfire universe. This won't be the last story I write set in a world ravaged by The Pandemic, believe me. I have big plans for Wildfire, including spinoff books featuring Cooper and 13, and also some cross-genre work for the future.
If you liked this book, I'd really appreciate if you took the time to review it—indie authors live and die by our fans and their reviews. You can click this link to go straight to the review page: Book Link.
THANK YOU.
About the Author
MARCUS GRADUATED FROM the University of Delaware and later earned his J.D. at the age of 26. Since then, he has at times been employed (or not) as: a highly over-qualified stock boy, cashier, department manager at a home furnishings store, assistant manager with a national arts and crafts chain, an acting store manager with the same chain, an unemployed handyman, husband, cook, groundskeeper, spider-killer extraordinaire, stay-at-home-dad, and writer.
He currently lives with his wife, children, and one cheeky vizsla in Wisconsin—and he couldn’t be happier you’re taking the time to read this.
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http://marcus1776richards.wix.com/home#!faq/c4ks
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Books by Marcus Richardson
THE FUTURE HISTORY OF AMERICA
Alea Jacta Est
Sic Semper Tyrannis
Dux Bellorum (2016)
THE WILDFIRE SAGA
Apache Dawn
False Prey (Novella)
Firestorm: Book III of the Wildfire Saga Page 38