When the Stars Fell From the Sky

by David Spell

  "I just did. All you need to know is that this is a matter of national security and your agents are here to provide support for our teams. If you do that, I'll let the Attorney General's office know that you did your job. If you don't, I'll let them know that, as well. And, I'll make sure to spell your name correctly when I pass that info on."

  Special Agent Ward felt like he had just been slapped. Who was this CDC agent to speak to him like that? He took a deep breath. Fine, he thought to himself. Support whatever crazy mission this was and then get back to Washington.

  #

  Travel Lodge Motel, Petersburg, Virginia, Thursday, 1430 hours

  The eight CDC agents were suited up in their tactical gear and ready to go. They performed one last weapons check and moved towards room 223. The Atlanta team would make entry into the motel room. The Washington team would wait outside on the breezeway as backup.

  The men had done a quick walkthrough of a motel room on the first floor. The Indian clerk had assured him that all the floor plans were exactly the same. He begged them to be careful and not to do any damage to his rooms.

  Jimmy put his arm around the man's shoulders. "You don't have anything to worry about, man. We're trained professionals. We only kill the people that need killing and we'll only blow up that one room. Everything will be fine." The Indian's eyes got big and he scurried away muttering in Hindi.

  Eddie would be leading the way into the room. Jimmy was number two, with Alejandro and Chris following. Jay had a set of bolt cutters to cut through the privacy lock if it was engaged. Marshall obtained the key card from Agent Ward and handed it to Jones.

  They stopped next to the motel room and listened for any noise from inside. Eddie readied a flash bang grenade by pulling the pin but keeping the charging handle depressed. He glanced at his men. Ready. Jimmy slipped the key card into the lock. When it turned green, he pushed the door open and then let go. The privacy lock was not on and Eddie tossed the grenade into the room before the door closed automatically. He stuck his foot in the doorway to keep it from closing all the way.

  The men turned away from the blast. Flash bangs are not designed to be lethal and are also known as 'stun grenades.' The device produces a blinding flash of light and a very loud bang. In a small hotel room, the concussive blast is multiplied even more and the result would be extreme disorientation for anyone inside.

  Eddie was moving through the doorway as soon as the grenade detonated. The flashlight on his rifle illuminated the small room, dust and smoke filling the air. Marshall and Jones cleared the living area and moved to the bathroom. Empty.

  Estrada and Rogers cleared the closet and checked under the bed. They also pulled the mattresses off the bed. As cops, they all knew of people hiding in unlikely locations.

  When they were satisfied that the room was empty, they turned on the lights and opened the door to air it out. Marshall looked at the vacant room and cursed loudly. Then he took a deep breath and looked at his men. "Sorry, guys. I was hoping he'd be here."

  "You just said what we were all thinking, boss. No problem," said Jones.

  They were careful not to touch anything because the room would need to be processed. The officers could see that it was filled with empty beer cans, pizza boxes, and fast food bags. The cell phone was laying on the table next to the bed. That was why the NSA had alerted them to Hill's presence at that location. They had been tracking his phone. Now, it appeared that he had fled and left his phone and his vehicle behind as a ruse to make them think he was still there.

  Next to the phone was a crude drawing on the motel stationery. It was picture of a hand with the middle finger extended. "Gotcha Pigs!" was written underneath it.

  "I'm going to enjoy meeting this guy," said Eddie.

  Eddie asked Jay and his men to do a visual inspection of the stolen Ford Explorer to make sure it wasn't booby trapped or that the terrorist wasn't hiding in it. He called the local police department and requested their forensic team and one of their road sergeants respond to the scene.

  Marshall walked over to where Special Agent Ward was standing with his agents. The FBI supervisor had a smirk on his face as Eddie approached.

  "No luck, huh? That's too bad."

  "Yeah, it is. But, you can still help us out."

  "No, I think we're done. You guys dragged us down here on your wild goose chase and then you struck out. We're heading back to DC."

  "Do you really want me to pull rank on you in front of your agents?" Eddie asked quietly.

  Who is this guy? Daniel wondered, taking a deep breath. He looked around at his team. "Give us just a minute," he said to them. "Let's plan to be on the road in ten."

  The FBI agents had never heard their boss spoken to in that manner. Not that Eddie had been rude or condescending, but it was clear that he was in charge and Daniel Ward was not. They all wandered slowly toward their own vehicles, straining to hear the conversation over their shoulders.

  "Agent Ward," Eddie said, when they were alone, "there's a very important piece of evidence in that motel room. The local police forensic team is going to come process the scene and I need you to get this item to your lab in DC ASAP.

  "I know this isn't convenient and I know you and your agents have better things to do, but Homeland is very interested in this case and they're following our progress closely. I'm about to call in and let them know what we found. I'd like to be able to tell them how helpful Agent Ward and his team have been."

  Homeland, huh? thought Ward. This might be bigger than I realized. The FBI did not fall under the DHS umbrella but the CDC enforcement unit did. The Federal Bureau of Investigation was a part of the Justice Department but it never hurt to be on good terms with the Department of Homeland Security.

  "I understand," said Ward. "I'd be happy to help out in any way I can. I'll cut my agents loose so they can get back to work and I'll stick around until forensics gets here and does their thing."

  "Excellent," said Eddie, smiling and patting the agent on the back with his massive arm. "I knew I could count on you."

  Daniel managed to return the smile, even though he had not been hit that hard since his defensive tactics training in the academy.

  A marked police cruiser pulled into the parking lot. "Probably just being nosy," said the FBI agent. "I already released the local police who were here."

  "No, I called for one of their supervisors. There are some things that you can only learn from a street cop." With that, Eddie turned his back on Ward and walked over to the police car.

  A wiry, older white man, with a bushy salt and pepper mustache, wearing sergeant's stripes on his uniform, got out of the police car. He dropped his cigarette to the pavement and stepped on it.

  Eddie greeted him with his hand out. "Hi, Sergeant, I'm Eddie Marshall with the CDC Enforcement Unit out of Atlanta."

  "I'm Joe West," the sergeant said, guardedly shaking Eddie's hand. "Atlanta, huh? You fellas are a long way from home, aren't you?"

  "You know it. Thanks for the help earlier. A couple of your guys were out here in case we needed them. I really appreciate it."

  "You federal boys call and we come running. I hope you got who you were looking for. The FBI agent didn't tell us anything."

  "Sorry about that. The agent in charge didn't get issued a personality when he went to work for them and, truthfully, we didn't give him much information, either. But, to answer your question, no, we didn't get who we were looking for. I can't tell you a lot either and I apologize for that. What I can tell you, though, is this is a really bad guy and if you've been watching the news you've seen some of his handiwork."

  Eddie let that sink in. Sergeant West nodded. "That helps a lot. Are we in danger of a terrorist attack here? What do you need me to do?"

  "I don't know about a terror attack here. My gut feeling is 'no.' I'd guess he's heading north for DC or New York or another one of the big targets. Virginia Beach and the naval base are only two hours away, but again, we just don't know.


  "The bad guy left his car behind. What I need to know is if your department's had any reports of stolen vehicles in the last twenty-four hours? I need whatever you can get me as soon as possible. He left some other evidence behind that's about to get taken to the FBI's lab. That may give us some ideas. Until then, we're working the transportation angle.

  "If we get lucky and he stole a car and if there was a witness, let me give you the physical on the guy we're after. He's a thin black male about six foot three. He's got long dreadlocks and is in his mid-twenties."

  The sergeant looked surprised. "I thought these terrorists were all foreigners? Iranians and Somalians are what the news is saying."

  "The vast majority are foreigners, but this perp got recruited while he was in prison for armed robbery. Apparently he's got a chip on his shoulder."

  "It'll take us a little while but I should be able to give you what we have in the next hour or so."

  "Thanks, Sarge. I knew you'd be able to help us."

  West started for his car and then turned back to Eddie. "Agent Marshall, you don't strike me as the typical federal cop. Are all the CDC agents like you?"

  Eddie smiled. "I appreciate that. We all have local law enforcement or a military background or both. I was with Chicago PD for fifteen years. The bottom line is that we never forget that when there's a crisis like the zombie virus or anything else that you can imagine, you guys are the first ones there. That thin blue line is still strong."

  Fifty-five minutes later, Sergeant West pulled his cruiser back into the parking lot. He exited, extinguished his cigarette, and approached the group of CDC agents. They were all kitted out like a SWAT team with heavy body armor and rifles slung across their chests. They look like they're ready to kill some terrorists, West thought. The circle opened at his approach.

  "Hey, Sarge," Eddie greeted him. "Did you have any luck?"

  "I think so," he said, smiling. "It looks like your boy got himself a new ride. There's a Planet Fitness, one of those twenty-four hour gyms, a half a mile from here. Yesterday, about 1500 hours, a BMW X4 was stolen from one of the members.

  "They've got one of those baskets on the counter where everybody throws their car keys while they work out. A guy fitting the description you gave me came in and was asking about gym rates. The girl working the desk got called away while your suspect was reading a brochure. When she came back, he was gone.

  "Thirty minutes later, the BMW owner went to leave but she couldn't find her keys. She thought maybe she'd left them in the car by mistake so she walked out in the parking lot and realized her car was gone."

  "Sounds like him," said Jimmy. "Do they have security cameras in the gym, Sarge?"

  "They do. Our detectives haven't followed up on the case yet. If y'all want to go up there, I'm sure we could get them to pull the video for you."

  The forensics team was almost done with the motel room. To process a crime scene correctly takes time and even a small motel room would take at least an hour. They would photograph it, dust for fingerprints, attempt to collect DNA evidence, and collect any physical evidence that was left behind. The stolen Ford Explorer would be impounded to their lot where it would be processed, as well.

  One of the crime scene supervisors, a curvaceous African-American girl, walked up to the men. She was holding a plastic bag and a clipboard.

  "Well, hello Sergeant West. How'd you get dragged into all this?" she asked, with a smile.

  "Hi, Ginny. You know, duty calling and all that."

  Ginny turned her attention to Eddie. "Agent Marshall, here's that cell phone you wanted bagged up." She laid her hand on his arm and continued, "Now, it's unusual to break the chain of custody like this, but since you asked so nicely...," she almost purred the last few words.

  "But, we're not really breaking the chain of custody. We're signing for it and it's going straight to the FBI lab. I know your team is amazing but I need this phone broken into ASAP and I think the FBI will be able to do that for us."

  "And there are some things that the FBI is really good at. Forensics is one of them," she agreed. "But, if you need anything else from me, Agent Marshall, anything at all, please don't hesitate to ask." She put special emphasis on the 'anything,' and the 'anything at all.'

  Eddie heard the snickers of his men. He was grateful for his dark skin or his blush would have been evident. "Thanks for all your help, Ginny. That FBI agent over there, standing against his truck, he's the one who's going to sign for the phone and take it to the lab."

  "That fella who looks like he has a stick up his..." she asked.

  "That's Supervisory Special Agent Daniel Ward and he could probably use a little of your special charm, Ginny," said Eddie.

  Ginny made eye contact with Eddie and held it for a moment. She smiled at Sergeant West and the CDC officers and then strolled over to Ward, handing him the evidence bag containing Terrell Hill's cell phone. She pointed to the place where he was supposed to sign. When he was finished, Daniel gave a half salute to the group of CDC officers and started towards Washington, D.C.

  #

  Petersburg, Virginia, Thursday, 1745 hours

  Sergeant West led the two Suburbans up to Planet Fitness. It would have been an easy walk from the motel for Hill, Eddie realized. When they arrived, West noted that the CDC officers had removed their tactical equipment and looked much more like regular cops now. Gray cargo pants, black polo shirts with their sewn-on CDC badge and black boots. Their nylon duty belts contained their pistols, handcuffs, extra ammo, and radios. And those guys from Atlanta had something else on their belts. Was that a suppressor? the sergeant wondered. That was not something you saw everyday on a police officer's duty belt.

  Within minutes, the CDC agents had printouts of images taken from the security cameras. West heard Eddie say, "That's him. Now, we just need to know where he's going," as he looked at the pictures. Terrell Hill was wearing a ball cap but the dreadlocks gave him away. In the photo, his hand was in the car key basket. The next picture was of his back sauntering out the door.

  Eddie thanked the gym's manager and the officers met up at their vehicles in the parking lot. Marshall turned to the police officer and said, "Sergeant West, thanks for your help. Knowing what Hill is driving may be the break that helps us find him. Do you have a card? I'll call you if it looks like there's any threat in your area."

  West and Marshall exchanged business cards and shook hands. "Good luck catching this scumbag. Let me know if there's anything else we can do," West said.

  After the sergeant left, Jay asked what everyone was thinking, "What now?"

  "Sergeant West said the stolen BMW is listed on NCIC so maybe we'll get lucky and a state trooper will run across him. For now, let me update the man in Atlanta and then let's find some place to eat? All this police work is making me hungry."

  Eddie composed a text and sent it to Chuck. 'Motel room empty. Ford Explorer still in parking lot. Cell phone left in room. The FBI is transporting phone to their lab for immediate processing. Local police advise and we have confirmed that Hill probably stole a silver BMW X4 yesterday at 1500 hours. Local forensics processing Explorer at their PD. Nothing further at this time.'

  As he hit send, Marshall saw that Jay's silent man, Terry Hunt, had walked over. "I own an X5. One of the features they offer is BMW Assist. It's a fancy GPS roadside assistance program, perfect if the driver is in an accident or broken down and doesn't know their exact location. Or, if a terrorist has stolen your car and you want to know where they're at."

  "I didn't even think of that," confessed Eddie. "Let me make a couple of phone calls and see if we can find out where this car is."

  McCain answered on the first ring. "Hey, Eddie, I just got your text. What's the plan?"

  Marshall told him what Hunt had relayed about BMW Assist. "We're going to call BMW and see if they'll help us but they probably won't without a warrant. I may need you to talk to our friends at one of the other government agencies and see if t
hey can hack into BMW's system. We need to find Hill before he strikes again. We don't need another Athens, Georgia."

  "No, we don't," said Chuck, thinking quickly. "Me, Andy, and Scotty are getting ready to head back to the office. We've been out on a pretty serious incident in Atlanta."

  "You guys ok?"

  "Yeah, we're fine. We killed fifty something Zs and rescued around thirty survivors. As soon as we leave, I'll see if I can get the NSA to help us out."

  "Sounds like you guys have had an eventful day. I wish I could say the same. Thanks for the help."

  "Text me that vehicle info so I can give it to one of the alphabet agencies."

  When they disconnected, Eddie sent Chuck a text with the stolen BMW's tag and vehicle identification number. He glanced over and saw that his and the DC agents were gathered around a laptop set up on the hood of one of the Suburbans. They were intently watching news footage of the incident McCain had just told him about.

  Jay nodded at him. "It looks like your guys in Atlanta had a little action today. Fox is saying that it was just Atlanta PD's SWAT team but Jimmy pointed out three guys from your office."

  Marshall watched the video for a few minutes, observing the three assault teams expertly taking down infected people. There was no mistaking Scotty Smith, especially when he looked up at the news chopper and scratched the top of his head with a middle finger salute. The officers watching the computer all laughed out loud.

  Ten minutes of the earlier incident were shown as the news anchor commented on what they were showing. Eddie pointed out Chuck on the screen.

  "That's our boss. I just talked to him on the phone and he said they killed over fifty zombies and rescued a bunch of people."

  "Your boss gets out and fights? That's my kind of guy," observed Jay. Walker did not say anything else, but it was clear that he was making a point about their own officer-in-charge at the DC office.