The Shift: Book II of the Wildfire Saga

by Marcus Richardson

Without warning, the engine noise changed pitch and the pilot leveled the plane out. Chad felt the plane change course to a slow steady climb. Everything tilted toward the rear of the plane. A few loose items of gear rattled down the central aisle. Chad closed his eyes and sent a prayer of thanks heavenward.

  After a few more moments of relatively calm flight, Alston unbuckled his harness stood up to stretch. He strolled down the aisle and returned with two headsets. One he handed to 13, the other to Chad.

  "Can you hear me? Mr. Huntley, can you hear me?" asked Alston.

  Chad nodded. "I can't begin to thank you—"

  "No need, sir. Are you injured?"

  Chad looked at his hands and patted his legs. "No, I think I'm okay…"

  Alston sat down and refastened his harness. "Well, that's a relief. I hate to think that we lost that many men for nothing." Alston switched his focus from Chad to 13. She had been watching Chad but under Alston’s stare, turned an icy look back at the Ranger.

  "I don't think we’ve been formally introduced, ma'am." He held out his hand. "Captain Derek Alston, U.S. Army.”

  13 hesitated a moment, then lowered her eyes to his hand before finally accepting it. "13," she said softly.

  "13?" asked Alston. "What's that supposed to mean?"

  "It’s who I am," she said. She turned and extended an athletic arm towards Chad. “He’s 14."

  Alston arched eyebrow at Chad. "You have any idea what the hell she's talking about?"

  Chad shrugged. "She started to explain something about a test program…" Chad said. His brows drew together. "It was back during the Great Pandemic. We didn't have a lot of time to talk back there thanks to the Russians. And Germans.”

  "Well," said Alston as he folded his arms across his chest, “what's left of my strike team has split up. We’re going in different directions to try and evade the Russians. This aircraft is heading back to Colorado via the Ohio River Valley. We should have plenty of time for her story."

  13 looked at Chad—do you trust him?

  Chad forced himself not to smile at the slight crease of skin between her delicate eyebrows and nodded. "It's okay," he said in his most reassuring voice. "I trust Captain Alston and his men with my life. They saved me back in Montana."

  "Then lost you?" she asked, as she glanced at Alston. For his part, the Ranger sat stiff as a board as color crept up his neck.

  "It wasn't their fault," Chad said. "We were betrayed. They had no idea I was going to be kidnapped by—“

  “A traitor,” said Alston, a dangerous glint in his eye. “A woman we thought we could trust.”

  Chad decided to try and diffuse the situation. "Go on," he said as he gestured to 13 with an open hand. “Please…"

  She stared at him for another few seconds, then folded her hands in her lap. "Very well." She closed her eyes and took a few breaths.

  Alston rolled his eyes and checked his watch. Chad was about to make sure she hadn’t gone to sleep like Garza when she began to speak

  "It began at the start of Great Pandemic." Her eyes opened, revealing that gorgeous shade of vibrant blue that had first attracted Chad. "My father worked for the Swedish government—a scientist. When he heard about the flu, about The Pandemic, he started work on a cure. He insisted my sisters and I got his prototype vaccine. At least, that's what he told us." She frowned. “The government decided to conduct a test—they took my blood and gave me experimental medicine. And within a week, they took me from my home." She closed her eyes again

  "Who took you?" asked Alston. The hard edge was gone from his voice, but he still looked on 13 with open suspicion.

  "Someone from the government—I don't know who. They were dressed in black. I was asleep when they broke in—I had a test in school the next day. They brought Poppa to my door and forced their way in. One of them hit Poppa with his gun.” She put her hands to her face. “I remember the blood when his head hit the floor. They put a bag over my head and dragged me into the night. They wouldn’t even let me change into clothes.”

  Alston looked at Chad with a glance that said: You buy this?

  "I woke up,” continued 13, “and found myself in some sort of lab. I was naked and strapped to a table."

  Chad's heart raced as his imagination began to take over. Part of him was focused on her story and how horrifyingly similar it was to his own tale. Granted, he had volunteered to go to that Tarrant County refugee center with his surviving neighbors… But once they had done tests on everyone and determined that not only was he free and clear of the flu but could never acquire it, he had been whisked away by men with black rifles and strapped to a cold, metal table.

  The other part of him hung on her every word as he imagined her body without clothes—restrained and exposed.

  He realized that he was staring at her chest. Chad quickly averted his gaze. 13 didn’t appear to notice—she was looking at Alston.

  "They took many, many blood samples—day and night. They let me get up, they let me rest, they gave me food.” She shook her head. “And a lot water. Day after day—it was always the same. Wake up, drag me to the lab, insert needles, take blood, throw me back into my room.” She turned her gaze on Chad and offered a sad smile. "He knows of what I speak."

  Alston looked at Chad. "That sound plausible to you?"

  Chad swallowed. “Every bit of it. Sounds exactly like what the Russians did to me this past week and what our own government did to me ten years ago.” He suppressed a shudder at the memories.

  "My father was important—maybe I was just more important. I don’t know. They let me go, eventually—at least out of the lab. No more blood draws. Instead, they put me in some training program—a military training program. They taught me to survive, to defend myself. Hand-to-hand fighting, basic weapon handling." She turned and looked at Alston. "The Swedish government placed a high value on me—other governments, too. They were worried the Russians would try and take me, especially when The Pandemic got really bad."

  Alston nodded his head, a sour look on his face. "I remember those days. That was some bad shit. My sister and I lost our entire family. I barely survived, myself. When it was over, my sister and I joined the Army.” He shrugged. “There was nothing else left to do. Schools were shut down, empty. There weren’t any jobs yet because the Aftermath was just heating up…”

  13 turned and looked at Chad. "My government offered me a way to defend myself, to make me feel safe again. I took it. The training was…brutal. It was like nothing I’d ever seen or done before.” she said with a laugh.

  "Then the Russians came for me. There was an explosion…a lot of fighting. Many people died. The men at the base tried to save me, but there were just too many Russians.” Her face darkened and she looked down at her hands, the fingers idly picking at her chipped nails. “They took me back to Russia. At first they were kind—there was no mistake I was their prisoner—but they didn’t treat me like one. They put me in an old palace—”

  “A palace?" asked Chad.

  “Probably one of the old KGB dachas leftover from the Cold War," observed Alston. He nodded and gestured to 13, “Go on.”

  "They gave me good food, fancy clothes—anything I wanted. But they kept me isolated. All I really wanted was someone to talk to. I counted the days by scratch marks in wall. Finally they came and began taking my blood. They were gentle at first—like my own people—but when I start ed asking questions, the Russians became more…aggressive." Her eyes looked down at the metal floor of the airplane. When she continued, her voice was so low Chad had to turn the volume up to max on his headset to hear.

  "One of the doctors took the time to explain to me how special I was. How out of all the billions of people on planet, the Russian government had only come across a handful who had blood as unique as mine. He said they knew of seven such people. Their blood was strong—immune to many different diseases."

  "Sounds familiar," said Alston as he glanced at Chad.

  “My sisters—my family�
��each had an element of this uniqueness.” She frowned. “No, not ‘element’. What’s the word?" She pursed her lips, tapping them with one finger. "Type? Similarity?" She shook her head. “It doesn’t matter. My blood was stronger—they needed whatever made mine strong. After all the testing, though, they discovered my blood was not as good as they thought. I was immune to a few types of diseases, but not the flu. I could not help them fight the Great Pandemic, but I heal fast. Faster than normal. They decided to keep me after all—for future use." She rested her head back against the hull of the aircraft and wiped a strand of blonde hair from her face. Her eyes stared at the ceiling of the Osprey.

  "I spent two years there. Such a cold place—colder than Sweden. They did so many tests. I fought when I could—even hurt a few guards…" A lopsided smile spread across her lips. When she moved in the dim light, Chad noticed the faint mark of a scar under her jaw line that slithered down the side of her neck.

  He hadn’t notice it before, but now that he had, anger boiled through Chad’s gut and his fist clenched involuntarily. The thought of someone threatening her like that made him want to hurt someone. Bad.

  "Did they do that to you? The Russians?” Chad said in a voice hoarse with emotion. He ignored the sharp look from Alston. "They did that?"

  Her head still against the hull of the aircraft, 13 lowered her eyes to look at him down her nose. The smile faded from her lips. "Yes, and worse." She closed her eyes and folded her arms across her chest. "I do not want to talk about that."

  The aircraft flew on and they sat in silence for a few moments as the Osprey roared its way through the sky. Chad looked around and noticed that most of the Rangers and Marines who had their wounds patched were now fast asleep. He marveled that they could fall asleep so quickly after combat. He still felt the aftereffects of adrenaline coursing through his body. He was all keyed up and full of nervous energy.

  "I soon learned the more I resisted them, the more I was punished. And Russians are very good at punishing people."

  Chad could see the wetness in her eyes. “What did you do?” he asked gently.

  She sniffed. “I switched tactics—something they taught me in Sweden. How to survive interrogation and how to escape. I tried to befriend a few of the nicer Russians. One of the scientists started to tell me about a secret American program they discovered through spies.” She looked at Alston. “He said the Americans were convinced there were more than just seven people with special blood around the world. A famous American scientist was working with a secret team that claimed they had found 18 people with blood like mine around world.” She turned and pointed at Chad. “He is number 14. The Russians had 2, 5, and 6. And me. The Russians told me the Americans had 10, 12, 11, 1, 3, and 4.”

  Alston looked at Chad. "So who had the rest?"

  13 shook her head, causing locks of hair to fall loose from the ponytail behind her head and tumble down her shoulders. "I don't know. China? North Korea? England? There were others, but everyone wants One."

  "One?" asked Alston.

  13 nodded. She gazed at Chad in reverence. "The One. The One whose blood is immune to flu." The moment passed and 13 continued: "At least, that’s what the Russians told me. I never thought that story was real.” She looked at Alston again. "Until I heard how the American government used his blood to find a vaccine for The Pandemic and saved all those people…” She nodded, a gesture more of confirmation than approval. “I knew Project Sanguine was real at that point—I the Russians had told the truth."

  “All that only happened toward the end…" said Chad. He cleared his throat and spoke louder. "They didn't go public with my name until it was almost all over. Did they release you? Were you able to find your family?"

  "Russians do not release people,” she snapped. "The scientist was…sympathetic…to my plight," she said in a voice that dripped with sarcasm. Her eyes met Alston's. The Ranger nodded. "After a time he arranged it so I could ‘free myself’.” She lifted her chin proudly. “And I did. When I found my family, it had been years…” Her voice trailed off.

  Chad felt his chest tighten in sympathy. He knew that look, he knew the emotion behind it. She was completely alone in the world.

  Chad was suddenly standing on the frozen dirt of his family's land back in Texas. He felt the shovel in his hands as he looked down and saw the fresh grave where he buried his mother. The snow-dusted mound sat next to his father’s and his sister’s mounds, completely covered in snow.

  He blinked and brought himself back to the present. 13 and Alston were staring at him. He cleared his throat. "Sorry, I was somewhere else…"

  13 held his gaze and slowly nodded. "You understand. You know what happened."

  Alston looked between her and Chad. “Well, I sure don't," he said, “can someone fill me in?"

  Chad stared at 13, who held his gaze. "She got home and found her family dead,” he said in a detached voice. She nodded and he continued. “House empty, neighbors dead. What was left of the town no longer cared for her—she had no relatives, no friends, nowhere to go."

  "I was more alone than ever in my life," she said sadly. She sniffed and wiped at her eyes as if embarrassed. "But…that was ten years ago," she said. "I tracked down the scientists in Sweden who’d used my blood—I found some of the soldiers who’d trained me—I wanted to be one of them.”

  “You wanted revenge," said Alston.

  13 nodded. “Oh, yes, I did. I wanted it so bad I could taste it. It consumed me—it was all I thought about. In the end, it saved me."

  "Revenge? It saved you?" asked Chad.

  13 nodded again. "I was not the first woman to experience Russian hospitality.” She spat in the aisle. “Nor will I be the last. My doctors told me," she went on quickly, “my hatred and anger helped me heal—helped me cover my psychological damage. It helped me forget those men…" She closed her eyes and took a few deep breaths, her fists clenched on her thighs.

  "When they decided I was fit for duty," she said, “I was given a mission.”

  “What mission?" asked Alston.

  She turned and looked at him. "They wanted me to track down what was left of my family."

  Now it was Chad's turn to be confused. "Your family? I thought they were dead?"

  "My new family." She looked down at the floor again. "My parents and sisters, aunts and uncles, cousins—they all died in Pandemic or fighting in the wars afterward."

  “The Aftermath,” agreed Alston. “Bad times for everyone.”

  She looked up and met Chad's eyes. "My new family—people like me—scattered around world, held by governments, used as guinea pigs. They are my family now. They’re all I have left. People like you," she said through half closed eyes at Chad. “We have more in common with each other than most people on the planet. We’re special—different."

  Chad grasped the concept immediately. She was right. There was someone just like him, who’d lost her entire family and been taken away for government experiments. Used, abused, and left to her own devices when the crisis passed. She was just like him.

  “That's…I don't know what to say…" Chad said. "I've never met anyone like me who… I mean, after I lost my family…"

  “It’s okay," she said softly, one hand outstretched across the aisle toward Chad. "I know it’s a lot to take in—it was for me, too. I know how you feel. That’s why I allowed myself to be captured.” She sniffed again and rubbed at her eyes, gathering strength around her like a warm coat. "That’s why I allowed myself to be taken by Russians and brought to you. To help you escape—to save you—so we can save our brothers and sisters around world. Our family.”

  Alston raised his hand. "Hold on," he said with a frown. He cocked his head, listening to something over his helmet. Chad listened, but heard nothing but dull roar of the engines.

  Chad felt the plane turn suddenly and the deck angled sharply down. The engines pitched to a lower volume as the plane turned and corkscrewed down toward the ground. Chad gripped the edge
of his seat and closed his eyes.

  “He just told the pilot to take evasive action," 13's voice drifted into his mind. Chad's eyes snapped open and saw her speaking into her headset. Her eyes were on Alston. “They’re looking for a place to land.” She turned and looked at Chad. "He’s not listening to me—he’s on a different channel. This is bad—the Russians have aircraft chasing us."

  Chad tried to look as calm and detached as she did and worried that he looked more like someone about to vomit. "Well, at least they're consistent."

  A crooked smile curled up one corner of his mouth. "Although if I had known you were chasing me, I would've let myself be caught a long, long time ago," Chad said quietly.

  There, across the aisle from him, was one of the most beautiful and strong women he'd ever known in his entire life. And through luck or Providence, they shared a closer connection than he’d had with anyone in the world. They were unique, set apart from the rest of humanity. They would always have each other, no matter what, because no one else was like them.

  He opened his mouth to say something when a hole appeared in the aircraft hull above 13's head. One second it was just solid steel, the next he could see daylight. There was no sound, no explosion. Just a hole. Alston shouted, the plane shook violently and Chad saw a snake of orange flame slither through the hole.

  The plane rocked violently and Chad's headset flew off. Smoke appeared from the forward section of the aircraft and the last thing he heard before the cabin lights went out was the roar of another aircraft passing close by overhead.

  CHAPTER 17

  Denver, Colorado.

  Emergency National Reserve Operations Center.

  Presidential Wing.

  BRENDA GAVE A POLITE nod to the Marine guard standing at the entrance to the President’s office. He checked her badge and ID information against his list and smiled as he opened the door for her.

  "This way ma'am.”

  She stepped into the President's temporary Oval Office and paused. President Harris had been forced to use a room without windows. He was the leader—the legitimate leader—of the free world. He’d been Speaker of the House when President Denton died—Brenda would never forget the speech the old President made as he died in front of her, naming Harris to replace him. It wasn’t the most auspicious start to a presidency, but with Barron playing king, she figured Harris at least acted more like a President—even if he did have to work in an office without a window.