Second Activation (The Activation Series Book 2)

by Darren Wearmouth

  “How long’s this going to take?” I asked.

  “Not long—just need your details. It goes up to his secretary. I’ll attach an urgent meeting request.”

  I couldn’t believe what Harris was saying. After the collapse of civilization and the imminent threat of the second activation and a larger, more deadly force arriving, they had me completing a personnel profile and meeting request. I took a deep breath and nodded.

  Harris began with asking my name, age, address, occupation, and skills. He continued with questions about my whereabouts when the event first happened and what I’d done since. As I explained my story, he wrote feverishly and didn’t interrupt. When I finished, he asked for the location of Jack and Rick. I hesitated, thought for a couple of seconds, and gave Bernie’s old address in Elmhurst.

  He stood and folded my profile document. “Stay here, please. I think the management team needs to know right away.”

  Alone in the office, I stretched my legs and noticed a stadium layout pinned to the wall, covered in scruffy handwriting.

  I pulled down a section of the blind to get a view of the land outside. I hoped to spot Jack but didn’t really expect to see him. I guessed he’d wait for a couple of hours and observe the stadium. If I didn’t reappear, his approach might be aggressive. With emotions running high on both sides, it would only take a misinterpreted gesture to start a fight.

  Harris poked his head around the door. “They’ve called an urgent board meeting to discuss your story. You need to come with me.”

  He strode along the corridor, banged through three sets of swinging metal doors, and climbed another flight of stairs. He pressed his right knuckle against a sturdy set of brown double doors with “Boardroom” stenciled across the top of them.

  “You ready for this?” he said. “Just let him think he’s boss, and you’ll be fine.”

  I shrugged. “Go for it.”

  Harris knocked twice.

  “Enter,” a muffled voice called.

  He slipped in, closing the door immediately behind him.

  Seconds later, the door opened wide. I stepped into a large meeting room, bathed in natural light from the full-length windows at the far end. Four people sat at a long, oval glass table in the center. I recognized Morgan immediately at the head of the table, wearing a pink business shirt. His neatly combed brown hair didn’t look like it had moved a millimeter since I’d first seen him on the plane.

  A woman in a cream blouse sat to his right; two men to his left were both dressed in light-blue shirts. They all had a notebook, pen, and glass of water in front of them. Another lady in a purple suit sat at a small desk to the side. She glanced at me and scribbled on a jumbo pad.

  Harris took a seat next to her, leaving me facing the group of four. I had to keep my composure in order to rationally explain events.

  Morgan steepled his fingers and leaned forward. A clock on the wall ticked around to half past one. I decided to dispense with formalities.

  “We’re all in immediate danger,” I said. “I’ve come to—”

  “I should kick you out of here right now,” Morgan said in pristine Queen’s English, “but your fantasy story has grabbed my attention. Sit. I’ll introduce you to the management team.”

  “Forget the introductions and fantasy. I’m here to discuss reality and survival.”

  “I say this to all new arrivals; don’t think you’re anything special.”

  “Get on with it, Morgan,” I said, not quite believing how quickly he’d set up his own little corporate empire. “We’ve got important things to talk about.”

  “I told you he’s a loose cannon,” he mumbled to his cohorts. “I’m managing director of the company. To my left are our directors of logistics and our head of security.”

  Both men nodded at me. The security guy had a look of menace about him. Stockily built, with a shaven head, thin lips, and beady eyes. Uneven stitches crossed a recent slash wound on his stubbled right cheek.

  “To my right is our director of human resources.” A Mediterranean-looking lady, beautiful with long brown hair, smiled. Morgan gestured to the side of the room. “You’ve met Harris. That’s my secretary, taking notes.”

  Lofty, deluded arrogance, I thought. They were already dishing out fancy titles while the world outside lay in tatters. I wondered if they had already penciled in a team-building event.

  “Nice to meet you,” I said, scanning the faces. “Now, can we get on with it?”

  “Ladies and gentlemen,” Morgan said. “You’ve read his form, so I’ll open up the floor to questions.”

  “That’s an amazing story,” Security said in a smooth American accent. “You’ll forgive me for being a little cynical in our current surroundings?”

  “I don’t blame you. I’ve been here less than an hour and already feel the same.”

  “You know what I mean. Monroe, activations, a force on its way. It’s almost as crazy—”

  “Why is it so difficult to believe against the context of events?” I interrupted. “It’s a bizarre thing to lie about.”

  “This . . .”—Morgan looked down at his notes—“Genesis Alliance group, where are they now?”

  “A team is already here in New York. Expect more to show up. Bigger and uglier.”

  “You say another activation is coming. Will it be like the first event?”

  “No—possibly—I don’t really know. I think they want to process the remaining survivors to rebuild civilization. You’ve seen the notes.”

  “How do you know they weren’t just another survivor group?” the HR lady inquired.

  “The devices. They used a global network to bring us down. Their techy guy, Brett, told me he was recruited well before the activation, to work on comms. They carried out this shit and have a master plan. Their local team screwed up, and HQ is not happy. I think some arrived yesterday at Albany.”

  “Do you know how many are coming?” the security guy asked.

  I shook my head. “Your guess is as good as mine. But we need a plan to deal with Hart Island as soon a possible.”

  “I don’t believe it, Chip,” Morgan said. “How can any organization be that big without coming to the attention of the government? Unless they’re a part of it.”

  “They kidnapped family members and killed any who went off-script,” I said. “What have you got to lose by believing me and defeating them? Ignoring the threat would be suicidal.”

  “I believe him. I mean—” the director of logistics began.

  “Let’s just assume for a moment he’s speaking the truth,” Morgan said. “What we have here is an established player in the new world. We can negotiate. Show them what we’ve achieved.”

  “You’re living in cloud cuckoo land if you think they’ll listen,” I said. “The clock’s ticking and we have to act. I’m not sure we can defeat them on our own.”

  He glared back and slammed his pen on the table. “How do you know? They might be the new government. We can represent an approved corporation.”

  I felt like I was living in a parallel universe. I could only put Morgan’s behavior down to stubbornness. Perhaps he didn’t like installing himself as a local king, only for someone else to turn up and tell him what he should be doing.

  Morgan gestured at Harris after somebody knocked on the door. He sprang to the entrance and held a hushed conversation with a person outside.

  “Update me,” Morgan said.

  “Alpha-two have picked up Harry’s brother and one other. They’re waiting for orientation.”

  “Both birds?”

  “One bird, one dog,” Harris said.

  “Process the bird; put the dog in quarantine.”

  For the first time, my mask of calmness slipped, and I returned his glare. “ ‘Dog in quarantine’? You’ve got to be kidding me! Quit with the stu
pid games and listen. It might just save your community.”

  “It’s house rules. We’ve had all kinds of problems—”

  “Dogs and birds? You’re mad. I’ve told you about what’s coming. We’ve got three days, probably less,” I said.

  “Am I missing something here?” Morgan said. “You claim to have traveled around but don’t have trust issues with people who were on the ground last week?”

  The silly naming convention threw me, but he did have a point.

  “No, I’m just saying—”

  “You’re a bird, Harry. It could be worse. We let a dog straight in two days ago. He was fine for a day—”

  “Then he killed a bird,” HR said. “We won’t be making that mistake again.”

  “What exactly is quarantine?” I asked.

  “We’ve decided to keep dogs locked up for two days,” Chip, the security guy said. “We’ve got one due for release this afternoon.”

  “Rick’s been fine—I can vouch for him.”

  Morgan took off his glasses and groaned. “If this place is going to work, we need to follow procedures. No exceptions. We’ll quickly lose trust if people find out we let in another stray without a quarantine period.”

  “It’s for the best,” HR said.

  Chip looked at the form and frowned. “You’re one hundred percent sure about this? A ship, possibly a destroyer?”

  “I’m guessing about the type, but one is heading over,” I said. “How many men do you have?”

  “What’s this about a cattle prod to the head?” Morgan said.

  “You can avoid the effects of an activation, probably. But what use is that if we’re surrounded by a powerful force?”

  “What kind of strength are we facing?” Chip said.

  “I’ve already said I don’t know. But the longer we wait, the more powerful it will become. The local GA team is shit scared of their Headquarters. That alone should tell you something.”

  “If the bulk of the main force isn’t here yet, what do you know about the local team?” Chip asked.

  “Not the most capable. Maybe forty or fifty. Conventional small arms. Run by a man who seems to be more intent on personal revenge. How many men and women do you have?”

  I didn’t say that I had similar motivations for Anthony. The overall goal of stopping GA had to take priority, but I wanted to put a bullet in his brain for killing Brett. Jerry would have to answer to Jack, and that wasn’t going to be pretty.

  “Forty in my security team. Enough to take out the local threat,” Chip replied.

  “If they are a threat,” Morgan said.

  “Look around you for God’s sake,” I said. “We’ve got an opportunity to stop activations happening in the short term. After that, we take the fight to them on a wider scale.”

  Looking at expressions across the table, I felt like I was winning everyone around, apart from Morgan. He glanced to either side of him and gave them a disapproving look before returning his focus back to me. “We’ve started to build something here. What have you done?”

  “Given you information that could save the lives of the company. We need to hit them in forty-eight hours. Are you with me or not?”

  “If we deal with this group, avoid any future events . . .” the director of logistics began.

  “He’s right,” Chip said. “We can take a team—”

  “Stop,” Morgan said, slapping his hands against the table. “The company will not be making any rash decisions. I need time to think this through.”

  The room fell silent, apart from the secretary’s pen scribbling on her pad. I took a deep breath and composed myself. At least Jack and Rick were safe.

  Morgan hummed for a moment. I got the impression he enjoyed making others feel uncomfortable. “You can be part of Chip’s team, along with your brother. I’ll decide about the dog after evaluating his orientation form tomorrow.”

  “You mean Rick?” I said. “If you lock him up, we go.”

  “That’s just great. Run away, give up the chance of making a difference.”

  As Morgan said it, Chip looked at me and gave an affirmative nod. I took it as a sign that at least he accepted our story and would act.

  “You haven’t got long to decide, Morgan,” I said. “I suggest we reconnoiter tonight and hit them tomorrow night.”

  Morgan dismissed me with a derisive wave of his hand.

  “Harris will show you around. I’ll speak to you later,” Chip said.

  “Just remember,” I said, “every minute we waste is another minute their Headquarters will get closer.”

  The management team gathered around Morgan, who whispered to them and pointed at the form. Harris led me out of the room.

  A few yards along the corridor, the boardroom door banged open behind us.

  “Wait a second.” Chip said. “Give both of them the orientation. Keep Rick in the suite for a day. Morgan won’t notice.”

  “The suite?” I said.

  “I’ll show you. It’s fine,” Harris said.

  “I’ll talk with you both later,” Chip said. “I believe you, Harry. I’ll start preparing my men for a mission tonight.”

  Heading back to the orientation room, Harris spoke into his radio. “Bring the two new arrivals for processing.”

  “Both?” a response crackled.

  “Yeah, the dog’s already been quarantined externally.”

  “Roger that.”

  “Don’t you feel embarrassed using the animal names?” I asked.

  He looked sheepishly away. “Didn’t take long to stick. They’re all different, the dogs—”

  “It’s like Animal Farm around here. I take it the management team are pigs?”

  “What?”

  I sighed. “Forget it.”

  Back in the orientation room, I found Jack gazing through the window. Moments later, a man armed with a rifle escorted Rick through the door. Harris sat behind his desk.

  Harris placed a form on the desk and nodded at the bench. “Please, take a seat.”

  Jack and I exchanged glances and nodded. It didn’t need to be stated that we were pleased to see each other alive and to be reunited, although I hoped Jack had his patient head on for what was about to come.

  Harris proceeded to interview Jack and Rick with the same set of questions. After five minutes, the director of HR entered the room. She interrupted occasionally, cross-referencing my story with that of the other two. Appearing satisfied, she took the forms, instructing Harris to place us in a bunk suite.

  “I almost didn’t believe it,” Harris said after she left the room, “until I spoke to the three of you. My team captured a man dressed in black yesterday, snooping around the practice courts. We interrogated him, and he gave us a similar story about activations. One of the guys lost his shit and shot him.”

  “Why didn’t you report it up the chain?” Jack said.

  “We passed him off as crazy, but in the back of my mind, I thought there was something to it. Chip will convince Morgan. He’s probably worried that the threat might spread panic.”

  “It’s not our intention to destabilize the whole place,” I said. “The shocks can limit activation exposure, but GA won’t stand idly by while you build up a community.”

  “It’s a black-and-white decision,” Jack said. “Kill or be killed.”

  Harris stood and slung a rifle over his shoulder. “I’ll give you the guided tour. Get you settled in before we head out tonight.”

  “We’re heading out?” Rick asked.

  “I think they got our message,” I said. “I suggested a reconnaissance tonight and attack tomorrow. We haven’t got any other sensible options.”

  Harris led us downstairs to an inner concourse where food outlets, souvenir shops, and bathrooms previously serviced tennis fans.

>   “The place is split into an inner and an outer ring. This is the boundary,” Harris said, pointing along the concourse. “Our team patrols this area and the immediate vicinity. Two groups of nineteen, each with a team leader, eight-hour shifts.”

  “So one team gets sixteen hours off a day?” Jack said.

  “We don’t take time off unless we’re sleeping. End up doing stuff like this. I finished my patrol this morning. A couple of us watch the kennels.”

  “You’ve got dogs here?”

  “I’ll tell you about it later, Jack,” I said.

  “Nineteen doesn’t seem like a lot,” Rick said.

  “We ring the outer concourse. You can see the men to your left and right. It’s worked so far. More numbers would obviously be great.”

  Harris led us in a wide, internal circle around the stadium. Guards stationed evenly around the complex nodded a silent greeting as we passed them.

  “Locker room’s through there. Come back when we’ve finished. Logistics will give you some food and equipment.”

  Steam wafted out of a pair of open doors, and my mouth watered at the smell of frying onions. “That’s the kitchen, run by logistics too. Food was rough for the first couple of days, but they make a good stew. There’s a hot meal every evening.”

  “Who scavenges? Your team?” Rick asked.

  “That’s part of the logistics team’s role. They cook, gather food, blankets—general stuff, you know?”

  “Sounds like they’ve got a harder job,” Jack said.

  Harris raised his eyebrows. “You reckon?”

  “Any others about?” I asked.

  “We’re over a hundred in total and growing every day. The rest clean, have admin jobs. There are a few kids—”

  “Haven’t seen any alive since . . .” I trailed off, not wanting to mention the incident close to Bernie’s apartment, when Jack had shot a girl who tried to kill us.

  “Funny thing,” Harris said. “We found a small group. Didn’t reveal much during orientation.”

  After completing a circuit, he led us back up the stairs. “This is the inner ring. At first we designated it a weapon-free zone, until that dog went crazy the other day.”