Uneasiness crept up Jack’s chest as Rogers cleared his throat and put a serious look on.
“All too often, addresses to the nation are in regard to challenges we face as a country.” Rogers broke into a smile. “Today, I’m pleased to present a bit of good news, which we know is in short supply these days.” He stabbed the air with a forefinger. “We’ve all made collective sacrifices to conserve and share the limited food resources we have. It’s been difficult, and a helluva way to lose weight.” Rogers pulled his suit jacket away from his body. “Implementing the rationing program was no small task. It took several adjustments to get it right, and I know it’s been difficult on every American.” Rogers stuck his finger back in the air. “Today, I am pleased to offer some relief to your burden. Effective the first of the month, rations will be increased by five percent. I know that still leaves us short of minimum nutritional requirements, but nonetheless, it is a step forward, and we can all use the extra calories. You will not have to do anything to obtain the increase. It will be automatic. Ration cards will be credited with the additional amount each month.”
Rogers put his hands on the edge of the podium.
“Though this is a positive step, it leaves us well short of where we need to be. This is not a celebratory address, just an acknowledgement that through our joint efforts we’ve made some progress. There is more work to be done, and I thank the American people for their patience and sacrifice. May God bless the United States of America.”
Jack sat down, trying to process the speech. This was undoubtedly positive, but bittersweet was the only word that popped in his head. A tiny step forward in a million-mile, uphill journey that he felt would still end disastrously. Jack shifted in his chair, thinking his bony ass would welcome the extra rations, but his inquisitiveness questioned where the extra food originated from. He rolled around the viable thought the federal government had held back, on purpose or out of its inherent ineptness to get any program right.
It was certainly plausible, but Jack ran through some of the rumors that had surfaced over the past year. Many were pure gossip, but others maybe not: People said to have died of starvation were actually taken and killed; soldiers said to have died protecting food sources were proven to have been killed; and babies born illegally were used as food. These troubling trends could not be explained away by ineptness—they were deliberate, unorthodox actions to supplement a dangerously thin supply of nutrition. Was a new, nefarious idea responsible?
Jack’s mind moved from considering the ominous possibilities to whether they should squirrel any of the newfound food away. All three of them were withering away, but he felt it was all about lengthening the clock. The longer they held on, the more people would die of starvation, increasing their odds of survival. It was the only way, he told himself. They had to stretch things out. Jack would insist they conserve half of the new supply they received.
***
Garland read the latest polls. A month of additional rations, ravenously consumed by all, had dulled the country’s edginess a shade. The chief of staff knew the results of the clandestine scheme he’d concocted would strengthen his position with the president, but he was still uneasy. Garland recognized the truth that without a wholesale rollout of the secret program the additional food coming from the trial sites would only serve to elongate the starvation process.
Grabbing the phone, Garland decided to go to the playbook that had served him so well.
“Jack, it’s Pete Garland.”
“Oh, hi Pete, how are things in DC?”
“Despite the bounce we got, we’re really up against it.”
“What’s going on besides the constant electric brownouts?”
“I’ve got something confidential to talk about.”
“Sure, shoot.”
“Nah, this is top secret stuff. When do you think you can get up here?”
“Oh, I don’t know, I’ll have to—”
“Look, we don’t have any time to waste here. I’m telling you this is urgent.”
“Okay, what works for you?”
“I’ll get you a business seat on Amtrak, say Wednesday?”
***
Jack was about to turn off his nightstand lamp when a text message sounded. He grabbed his phone.
“Holy God!”
Laura rolled over. “What’s the matter?”
“Just got a text from the overnight desk about a kidnapping for cannibalism.”
“Oh no, that can’t be true. That’d be sick.”
Jack sighed. “I know, but it goes to show you how desperate things are.”
“Where’d it happen?”
“Jersey City.” Jack swung his legs off the bed.
“Where you going?”
“Kitchen, they want to know if I want to cover it.”
“You’re gonna do it?”
“I don’t know.”
“But you don’t cover crime.”
“I know, but if this is part of some organized thing, like a gang or something, it could be a big story. I’m just gonna root around a little. Be back in minute. Go to sleep.”
Jack searched the AP database for information on the Jersey City incident. Piecing three reports together, he ascertained that a woman coming out of the Grove Street Path Station late the night before was abducted by three men. Surveillance video and two witnesses identified one of the men as Victor Brown. Jack cringed when he read that police discovered the woman’s body had been hacked into pieces and stuffed in his apartment’s refrigerator. Jack pondered Victor’s admission that the motivation was cannibalism before checking out his conspirators’ backgrounds. Satisfied there wasn’t any evidence that they were part of an organized group, Jack continued his search for other kidnappings involving cannibalism.
Twenty minutes of exploration uncovered two dozen disturbing incidents of cannibalism across the nation. Unsettled, but convinced no coordinated ring existed, he shuffled back to bed.
Chapter Thirty-Four
Jack met Garland at a jammed Dunkin’ Donuts on Connecticut Avenue that offered only black coffee. They made small talk as they waited for their coffee and then headed onto the crowded sidewalk. The pair walked in the direction of a cluster of foreign embassies when Garland glanced around and said, “Thanks for coming, Jack.”
“No problem, I can always use a good story.”
Garland took a sip of his coffee and threw it into a trash can. “We’ve done a lot together over the years. Helped each other out, no?”
“Yeah, it’s been good. Most of the time.”
“Boy, you’re still steamed over that Stanford breakthrough thing?”
Jack sipped his coffee but didn’t respond.
“You got to let that stuff roll off, Jack.” He shook his head. “And I thought you’d make a good politician. What was I thinking?” Garland chuckled.
“You embarrassed the hell out of me, almost ruined my creditability.”
“Can we move on, Jack?”
“Okay, okay, it’s history. What do you got?”
Garland glanced from side to side. “Look, we’ve had a lot of controversial policies through all this. But some of the things that raised a ruckus look harmless in hindsight.”
Jack nodded. “I always felt things were a lot worse than they seemed, but they moved a lot faster than even I thought.”
They approached what used to be the National Zoo but was now an urban farm made up of a series of greenhouse, when Garland said, “And how. Let’s grab a bench.”
They sat on a bench that used to seat kids waiting outside the zoo as a steady stream of people passed by. Before a word could be spoken, someone looked at Garland and did a double take. Garland quickly turned his face away and said, “Look, Jack, I realize you’re a reporter and a damn good one, but the thing is, you get it. You know we’re up to our noses in shit.”
Jack sighed. “I know, I know, my mom, er, my grandmother’s smacking up against the age limit. We don’t talk about it,
but it’s really sad. I know she’s worried, and she’s even going to church every day. The thought of her being taken and uh, killed. I just don’t know what to do.”
“Sorry to hear.”
“Say, I know it’s difficult, but is there anything, anything at all you could do to help her?”
Garland hung his head. “Jack, nothing more I’d like to do, but really, there’s nothing I could do. It’s out of our hands.”
Jack frowned.
“Really, Jack, I can’t do anything. I would if I could. You know that.”
“Can you just try and check into it?”
“Sure, I’ll see, but don’t get your hopes up, okay?”
Jack nodded. “Thanks, I really appreciate it. Now, what did you drag me to DC for?”
“You know we made news by increasing everyone’s rations by five points, but the real news was how.”
“I thought about that. Figured the Feds were holding back some or miscalculated from the get-go.”
“Well, you’re partially right. We did hold back a little, two percent, to be sure we had a safety margin in rations. But the balance,” Garland scanned the area, “that’s what’s gonna save us if we can get everybody on board.”
“You found a new source of protein?”
Garland shook his head.
“You gonna tell me or not?”
“What I’m going to tell you is top secret and totally off the record. You don’t want to help on this, then you have to promise to keep your trap shut. You got that?”
“Fair enough. What is it?”
“Harvesting neonates for food.”
“Neonates? What’s that?”
“Newborns.”
“Oh, no! Don’t tell me you’re talking about babies. Human babies?”
Garland put a finger to his lips. “You’ve got to understand, we’re completely out of options.”
Jack leapt up. “Understand? Are you frigging kidding me? You’ve gone insane.”
“You think so? Shows how little you know.”
“Oh, so you think my ignorance is the reason to reject your sickening idea.”
“Hold on, Jack, I didn’t use the word ignorance. What I meant is, you don’t know all the facts.”
“Yeah, well school me then.”
“Sit down.”
After Jack sat, Garland leaned in. “You’ve got to calm down. Can we discuss this unemotionally?”
Jack shrugged.
“I know it sounds gross, and for the record it wasn’t my idea, but things are a helluva lot worse than anyone could even imagine. We have no choice. It’s the only thing that might save us.”
“So it’s down to cannibalism? Eating each other is going to save us?”
“Get real, Jack. You’ve seen some of the reports outta the Far East and Africa, where it’s kill or be killed. We can’t let it come to that here. It’ll be mayhem.”
“Yeah, but who wants to live in a world that eats its newborn? You ask me, we’re better off dead. I just don’t get it.”
“It’s really pretty simple—survival is the only thing that counts, not how much money you got, not who’s in the White House, not where you live, nothing but staying alive.”
“You really think you’re gonna get me to help sell this?”
“You’ve always been rational, Jack. Trust me, it’s the only path.”
Jack shook his head. “Nah, no way. I can’t do it.”
“You don’t want the headline, I’ll give it to Boris.”
“Boris? He’s a frigging flake. How the hell could you use him?”
“He did a damn good job on the cemetery carcasses.”
“Yeah, yeah, yeah. Frigging softball you gave him after I did the hard part breaking the story. You screwed me on that too.”
“Oh come on, Jack. You’re a big boy. Sometimes I have to spread it around. Otherwise we’d both lose our credibility.”
“Look, I get that, but not after I started it. You gave that hack the juicy part.”
“That’s all water under the bridge. As I said, the only thing that counts now is survival. You in or out?”
“I need some specifics on what this is all about. How’s it really going to impact the situation?”
“Fair enough.” Garland checked his watch. “Take the metro. The Cleveland Park station is a quarter mile away.” Garland pointed. “Get off at Rhode Island Avenue. A car will get you about twenty minutes from now.”
“Where we going?”
“You’ll see when we get there.”
Chapter Thirty-Five
A black Escalade navigated the concrete barriers and stopped at a guardhouse. The sun exploded into the car as the driver lowered the window. He flashed an ID and the SUV was waved onto Andrews Air Force Base.
Jack said, “I can’t believe we’re back at Andrews. I mean, it’s kinda ironic that this was where Remedy was kept.”
Garland said, “That’s a long time ago.”
“And how. More’s happened these last ten years than any other hundred-year period in history.”
“Let’s hope it gets boring real fast,” Garland said as the driver pulled up to a second guarded gate. This time the gate and fence were solid.
When they entered the inner sanctum, Jack remarked, “Looks like a miniature city in here.”
Garland nodded. “It used to house two divisions.”
“How many people is that?”
“Up to forty thousand soldiers, plus support staff.”
“And now?”
“We’ve got thirty-five thousand women living here at the moment.”
“Geez. You’re not fooling around.”
“Can’t afford to, Jack. And we’ve got thirty other locations throughout the nation doing the same.”
“How’d you keep this under wraps?”
“National security interests. Works every time.” Garland smiled.
The Escalade pulled up to a two-story building marked with the universal symbol of a red cross and was greeted by a soldier in fatigues and sunglasses.
“Welcome to the Development Camp, gentlemen. I’m General Cooper.”
“Good to see you again.” Garland pumped his hand. “General, this is Jack Amato, he’s kind of a special envoy at large for the White House.”
“Nice to meet you, Mr. Amato.”
Garland said, “I’d like you to give us the nickel tour, and then we’ll be outta your hair, General.”
“My pleasure. Let’s start with the mess hall.” He pointed toward a green, low-slung building fifty yards away.
They crossed the street and a burned-out lawn to a double-doored entrance. The nearly empty hall was lined with tables and benches. The seating and cafeteria food line reminded Jack of high school.
The general said, “This is where the women are provided with three meals a day plus unlimited snacks. Given their, uh, role, the portions are more than adequate. Coffee’s always available here as well. Would you like a cup?”
The visitors declined. Garland asked Jack, “Good?”
Jack nodded. “Sure, it’s just a cafeteria. Let’s move on.”
Jack squinted as the general led them back across the street.
“We have thirty structures designated for housing.”
“How many women do they hold?”
“Most bunk around a thousand.”
“There’s thirty thousand women here?”
“Approximately. I can get you the actual count this afternoon.”
Garland waved him off. “It’s okay.”
“Is this a voluntary program for the women that participate?”
The general said, “Completely. As I understand it.”
“So, why would they participate?”
Garland said, “We incentivize them.”
“How?”
“Well, we offer them an upgraded ration package for their families.”
“You bribe them with food?”
Garland frowned. “We like to call i
t motivation.”
“Still sounds like a damn bribe to me.”
“We consider it a fair trade. Nothing more than simple commerce as it’s practiced every day.”
Jack was about to respond when the general said, “Shall we go in?”
They crossed the first floor’s foyer area into a spotless barrack that, despite personal adornments, screamed military. As they walked down a large center aisle, Jack counted a set of twenty beds on each side before a partial wall separated the next set of twenty. Jack caught a whiff of antiseptic and asked, “General, what changes have been made since women, and pregnant ones at that, instead of soldiers, are living here now?”
“Not much, really, some modifications in the bathrooms and the installation of safety railings for use in later-term carries. But really the carry agents have all they need here. It may not seem comfortable, but it is.”
“Do they have a say in who they live with?”
“When a group is processed, they’re assigned to a barrack based upon what stage their carry is in. We want all the carriers in each structure to mature within a week of each other.”
Jack stopped dead in his tracks. “Mature? What are we talking about, fruit?”
The general frowned. “For them to be ready to deliver the carry.”
“How can you possibly manage hundreds of pregnancies to birth in one week?”
The general looked at Garland, who nodded his approval. “Well, sometimes inducement of labor is needed and other times C-sections.”
“What you’re talking about is nothing but a frigging production line.”
Garland nodded. “You’re finally getting it, Jack. It’s the only way.”
Jack asked, “Where are all the women?”
The general said, “Most are probably in the rec hall.”
“I’d like to speak with a couple of the girls, okay?”
The general glanced at Garland, who shrugged and said, “Fine by me.”
“Okay, but we’ll hit the medical complex first, if you don’t mind. It’s on the way.”
As they approached the sanctum’s hospital, Jack commented, “This looks just like one of the dormitories.”
The Final Enemy Page 21