by DB Carpenter
Her hand, clutching the pistol, stuck out from the side of the table. Chris rolled over, wrenched the gun from her weakening grip, and stood up. Pain tore through his broken arm and he cried out, but it didn't matter. He felt and didn't feel it at the same time. All he could think about was getting out of here. Alive.
Footsteps pounded up the stairs. He turned as Mark burst into the room waving a gun.
"Freeze!" Chris yelled. Mark paused briefly before raising the gun.
Chris squeezed the trigger. The pistol roared. The slug slammed into Mark's chest, which erupted in a gusher of blood. He fell forward. Sarah had squirmed out from under the table, and now was inches from her trembling, dying comrade. His gasping breaths shot spittle onto her wide-eyed face.
Jerry ran in, wisely stopping when Chris told him to. They all watched Mark die – three solid minutes until he was finally still. Chris picked up Mark's pistol and shook his head. He motioned with the barrel of the gun for Jerry to move beside Sarah.
"You should've listened to me, Sarah," Chris said in a trembling voice. He couldn't take his gaze from Mark's body – he had done that. Oh my God! "I gave you the option of letting me go, but you forced my hand. That's your fault!" He pointed to Mark's body.
Sarah's shoulders slumped and her head hung down on her chest as she sat next to her dead cohort. She slid sideways, away from the spreading pool of blood. Some of it had already touched her jeans and it streaked across the floor – an appropriate trail of blood.
Jerry scowled. "So what're you going to do now?"
Chris picked up a chair from the floor and sat down. Good question. Christ, was he any better than Sarah? He could still feel the recoil of the gun as he squeezed the trigger. The blast still echoed within the recesses of his mind. He had killed a man. It was absolutely justifiable – the right outcome for the moment but that didn't negate the fundamental fact that he had sent someone into eternity, pushed them off this mortal coil into the incomprehensible abyss.
As he stared at Mark's motionless body, lost in guilt and remorse and revulsion, Sarah leapt up from the floor and tackled him. Jerry followed her lead and the two of them piled on Chris, pushing him out of the chair and onto the floor as they wrestled desperately to get the gun out of his hand.
9:15 pm PDT Eureka Municipal Airport, California
"I don't care what you do or how you do it, Arthur. You've got to find these people – to stop this thing once and for all," the President said.
"I'm working on it, sir," Arthur replied. He wasn't going to apologize or grovel. He was doing everything he could, and what the President thought about his performance wasn't his highest priority right now, although it was up there.
"I'm not impressed," the President said.
"We're trying to ID the bodies from the Suburban," Arthur said.
"What good is that?" The President replied. "You already said that Sarah Burns wasn't in the van. It was two guys and a bunch of kids."
"At least we stopped them from getting onto the planes and out of the country. If that had happened, we would have been too late anyway. We've got to give Chris Foster time, sir."
"What makes you think he's even going to turn up again? He's the one who sent you to the empty house."
"But he gave us the Suburban. I can't explain why nobody was at the house."
"I don't like it," the President said. "There's too much at stake for us to rely on this guy."
"We've got people pouring into the region. We're doing everything right, we just need a break."
"How much time do you propose we give him?"
"Until tomorrow. Noon. Then we go to the media and get the world looking for him and the rest of them. I'm sure he's going to get in touch with us."
The President muted his line and leaned off camera. After five minutes he came back on. "We need to contain this now. We can't give it any more time. It's too risky. I want an immediate media blitz and containment protocols for a thirty-mile region including aviation."
"You realize what this is going to do?"
"Of course but I'm not going to be the President who sits by and lets this happen. Not on my watch. I've already kicked this off from my end so you don't have to worry about the protocols, all you have to do is find these people. Got it?"
Arthur was shocked that the President had reacted in such an extreme manner but he couldn't second guess him. This was uncharted territory and overreacting was a deserved response.
"I understand, Mr. President."
"Keep me posted," the President said as he hung up.
Arthur held the receiver in his hand until it emitted a loud siren sound before placing it back in its cradle. His stomach rumbled as he dropped with a groan into a folding metal chair and put his feet up on the table. All his team could do was wait and prepare. The media blitz would generate all kinds of activities.
"What now?" Steve Strange asked Arthur.
Arthur glared at the agent, whom he was beginning to really like. "I just spoke with the President. Get everyone together in ten minutes."
"Will do," Steve said as he moved away, pulling his phone from his pocket in the process.
Arthur looked across the hangar at the Rapid Response Team. They were busy analyzing the corpse in one of the isolation chambers. He gathered the energy to get up and walk over. The Sergeant, dressed in a full-body protective suit said, "This kid is definitely hot." His voice came through a speaker.
Arthur stopped. The man leaned back down over his microscope. Another man was furiously typing on a computer attached to a large machine. The keyboard had been enlarged to allow someone wearing the thick gloves to type.
"What do you know right now?" Arthur yelled.
The man lifted his head from the microscope and snapped, "We're not sure, but there's definitely some sort of virus in his blood. It'll take a while to figure out; hell, it could take months, but this kid is hot – he's carrying something and, just a hunch, I bet it's exactly what we thought it was."
"Keep me informed," Arthur said as he turned and walked away. He stared at the phone on the table – willing it to ring with Chris Foster on the other end. He was wired with nervous energy and the super-intense portable lighting that had been set up inside the hangar made everything glow, and was adding to a growing headache.
He walked outside into the cloudless night. Even with the bright full moon, the sky sparkled with stars, the glow of the Milky Way sliced across the darkness. In D.C., only the brightest stars shone through the ambient light of the east coast megalopolis that stretched from Washington to Boston. The myriad of stars soothed him, tension flowed down his back and his head cleared as he took a deep breath. The underlying sweetness of the northern California air was still present even though he stood in the middle of a vast expanse of pavement. He held his breath momentarily and let it out in a long, slow exhalation.
The plan had sounded too easy when he had originally talked to Chris this morning. Things never went that smoothly. He stretched some more as he walked around on the dark tarmac gathering his thoughts. Even from out here, he could hear a phone ringing back in the hangar. He turned and stared at the building that seemed to have liquid light pouring out of it, hoping that it was Chris Foster on the hotline. He was just about to turn away and continue on his walk when one of his men emerged from the light and ran toward him.
"It's Chris Foster."
Arthur sprinted back to the hangar. His heart raced as he ran into the building and over to the desk where the receiver lay on its side like a wounded animal.
He paused and took several deep breaths before picking up the phone, "Kent."
9:21 pm Summit – Bald Mountain, California
"Damn it!" Sarah exclaimed as she disconnected the call.
"Please tell me that wasn't what it sounded like?" Jerry said.
"It was. He can't take off. The government has grounded all aircraft in the area."
"You're kidding me. What are we going to do now?" Jerry said a
s he pulled out his phone.
"I have no idea," Sarah replied. She held her phone in her hand, obviously wanting to hurl it but knowing she needed it.
Chris sat in a chair against the wall. His arm a simmering blaze of pain, his right eye a swollen mess and his body feeling like it was on the verge of total collapse. The fight with Sarah and Jerry had been too much. It was looking less likely that he could survive this ordeal with each passing minute. Now their evacuation plan was dead. The helicopter that was supposed to whisk them away under the cover of darkness was not coming.
"Jesus, look at this," Jerry said holding his phone up.
Sarah walked over and looked at the screen. An old picture of her was on the screen next to a recent picture of Chris. Jerry turned the phone back and read highlights of the story out loud, "Sarah Burns an apparently reclusive and idealistic genius created a virus. Blah, blah, blah Stop the over-population crisis. Government has instituted a dramatic, never before instituted containment policy. Roads are being blocked. All mass transit shut down, including airplanes, trains, boats. Massive influx of federal agents and they've called up the National Guard! We're fucked. The FBI lost contact with Chris Foster this morning." Jerry lifted his head and turned to Chris.
Sarah stood next to the small galley kitchen and she glared silently for a moment at Jerry, her face trembling. Then she shrieked. Her feet lashed out at the counter and she started kicking and thrashing uncontrollably. A cabinet door broke off and she jumped up and down on it as she howled. She slammed into a table, overturning it. Empty bottles and cans tumbled noisily across the tile floor. She kicked a fire extinguisher from its mounting bracket on the wall. As it crashed to the floor, its handle broke off. A thick cloud of carbon dioxide erupted from the nozzle with a loud, throaty squelch. The metal canister spun wildly around the tile, slamming into walls and the preparation table until finally jamming under a counter and ejaculating the last of its fire retardant with a loud pop.
"Sarah!" Jerry exclaimed as he stepped back while the fog of CO2 and the temper tantrum consumed Sarah. She thrashed in the cloud, howling and crying in a fit that lasted for several minutes before finally collapsing on the floor. Her raging fury reduced to uncontrollable sobs.
"Why, why, you son of a bitch?" She moaned as the CO2 dispersed across the floor in a thick ground fog.
"All the preparation, the years of planning," she moaned. "You ruined it. All of it! Look at us, we're trapped!"
"You're a dead man," Jerry said as he pulled out his pistol, cocked the hammer and walked toward Chris.
"Wait, don't!" Chris said but Jerry marched toward him.
Sarah rose to her feet and wiped the tears from her face and said, "Stop, Jerry. Stop!"
"No, Seth was right all along. It was him the whole time."
Sarah walked to him, "Give me the gun."
"No."
"Give me the fucking gun."
"No. I'm going to kill this son of a bitch just like we should have done when he first turned up back in Maine."
"No you're not."
"Yes, I am."
Sarah stepped in between Jerry and Chris, "Give. Me. The. Gun."
Jerry's face quivered with rage but he slowly handed the gun to Sarah. She took it from him saying, "I want to be the one."
Chris rose from the chair as Sarah faced him. She was five feet away with the gun leveled at his chest. There was no way he could physically attack her or attempt an escape. In his condition, she would win either situation easily. The only way to hold off on her pulling that trigger was going to be with his wits.
"You need me," he said.
She barked a sharp laugh. "No we don't."
"What are your options, Sarah? Are you going to hit the woods and become a survivalist? Live off the land and off the grid?"
"Maybe."
"You going to go back down and get in your car and try to evade the road blocks and National Guard? Think that will work?"
She narrowed her eyes and chewed on the inside of her cheek but didn't respond.
"Your only hope is to make a deal with the FBI. That's the only way to guarantee you don't end up like Albert and Seth."
Jerry was listening, he was clearly in panic mode but he wasn't the one Chris was worried about. He had to get Sarah to listen to him.
"Look, this whole thing sucks for you. I get it," Chris said. "Eighteen years down the shitter. I can't imagine it, especially when you were so close but it is what it is. You've lost. All you can do now is try to save yourselves."
"Save ourselves for what?" Sarah asked. "Prison?"
"Or to be killed like the others," Jerry said. "So far there are no prisoners, Sarah."
"I've noticed," she replied.
"You've got skills, Sarah. Knowledge that the government could use. How many people in the world could do what you've done?"
Her face softened a bit at this. He was getting through to her with the simple ego-stroke.
"You know I'm right," Chris said. "With what you can do, they would undoubtedly be prepared to make a deal. You wouldn't be free but I bet you could get easy time in some research facility or something. Let you carry on your work, just for –"
"What about me?" Jerry said.
"We work you into the deal," Chris replied. "Think about it, Sarah. Government funded lab, no prison bars, a future, a chance to take what you've learned and apply it in different ways. What you did was amazing. No doubts but, right now, you guys are in a jam and you need to start thinking creatively to get out of it and I can help. I was talking to the Deputy Director of the FBI. He's the kind of guy who can make things happen and he owes me for giving him the carriers. Don't get sidetracked, I didn't know they would end up dead, that wasn't my doing but I undoubtedly earned some points giving them the tip. Think about it."
Chris stopped talking and let her digest what he was saying. He could see her contemplating it, not dropping the gun but definitely considering what he had said. Jerry tugged her shirt and when she looked at him he motioned with his head across the room.
The two of them stepped to the other side of the room. Sarah kept the gun pointed in Chris' general direction but he wasn't going to make a run for it. The odds were still not in his favor. He watched the two of them talk. Jerry was animated, Sarah subdued but it looked like he was winning her over. Chris caught a few of the softly spoken words as they conversed but not enough to understand. All he could do was wait.
After a few minutes they came back over. Sarah kept the gun pointed at him as she said, "You really think you could cut a deal?"
"Absolutely. They'll want to put this thing to bed as soon as possible."
Jerry and Sarah exchanged glances and then she said, "Okay, who was this Director you were talking about?"
"Arthur Kent," Chris replied.
Jerry was immediately on his phone confirming the man's identity. He held the phone in front of Sarah and said, "He's legit."
"Why should I trust you now, Chris?" Sarah said.
"Are you fucking with me?" Chris said. "Why should you trust me? I'm nobody, do you understand? I shouldn't be here. All of this has nothing to do with me. I just got caught up in your fucked up, chaotic wake and I want out. Don't take this the wrong way but I never want to see either of you ever again. I'll get you the deal with Arthur and my upside is I'll get you out of my life."
Sarah nodded, "Fine, but I'll negotiate my own deal, thank you very much. You just need to get Arthur here and I'll take care of the rest."
"I can do that."
"He comes alone. Anyone else shows up and you're a dead man. Got it?"
"Just him or I'm dead. Got it."
Sarah scowled at him and then held up her phone, "Ready?"
12:53 am PDT Bald Mountain, California
The headlights sliced across the dark parking lot and stopped in front of the base lodge. Chris, Sarah and Jerry sat on the railing of the large Peak Lodge deck staring down at the car. It was too dark to see anything in detail
but they watched a single flashlight beam turn on and then begin the trek up the mountain.
"Think he's alone?" Sarah said.
"He said he was going to be," Chris replied.
"Well, we're going to see, aren't we," she replied.
After thirty-minutes, the light was approaching up the final light grade.
"Take him over there," Sarah said to Jerry, motioning for him to move Chris back against the wall. Sarah stood behind the railing. "If anything happens, kill him."
"That will be my pleasure," Jerry replied.
Arthur came to a stop on the ground ten feet below the deck. He glanced up at Sarah and then leaned over and placed his hands on his knees as he took deep breaths. He stayed in this position for several minutes. Finally, Sarah said, "Big hill, huh?"
Arthur stood up and grunted.
"Stairs are over there."
He trudged around and up onto the deck where Sarah stood with her pistol.
"Stop," she said as Jerry came over and frisked him – nothing. Jerry stepped back, keeping his pistol leveled on Arthur.
Arthur's shirt was drenched with sweat – his breathing heavy as he raised his eyebrows, wiped his hand on his pants and offered it to Sarah. "Arthur Kent," he said.
Sarah shook his hand as she said, "Sarah Burns."
She motioned to a picnic table and sat down on the top of it. Arthur dropped down on the other end and swabbed sweat from his face with his shirttail. Sarah waved Chris over.
"I guess I should've told you to leave the business clothes at home," Chris said. "Chris Foster."
The two men shook as Arthur scanned the area and chuckled. "That's okay. I've got an expense account."
"You're alone? Nobody following you?" Jerry asked.
"Look, I told you on the phone I'd be alone and here I am. All by my lonesome. Now what the fuck are we doing here?"
"Pretty bad situation, isn't it? We saw the news feeds. It's a mess," Chris said.