Someone put an awful lot of time into getting it together.
A complete staff.
He read ‘book one’ which was vital to the basic aspect of the project and Martin’s responsibilities. But book two said the how’s and why’s of it all.
Martin’s role as monitor was minimized, in his opinion. He would be more than that. An overseer, yes, of something much bigger.
The GEP was much more than a monitoring station, monitoring events that unfolded globally.
It was just what its name said, the Global Extinction Project.
The US government knew something big was going to occur. They had theories, but just didn’t know the exact details.
They knew and suspected because of the global changes that multitudes of catastrophes would take place.
Again, they didn’t know the exact details.
That was the reason for the conference. All the great minds together, saying what they think is going to happen, and presenting their proof of it. Then all the great minds that listened would determine who was right and who had the best proposal for a solution.
That was the reason Martin was invited. Because he too had that theory. Unfortunately, it was written many years early
But the government had a backup. GEP.
A way to ensure that man would survive.
Taken from the pages or screen of some sci-fi movie, the GEP complex would eventually house the surviving generation.
Yes, there would be others who implemented survival structures, but the GEP was going further.
Greenhouses indoors, medical facilities, staff, everything.
No matter what catastrophe, wind, water, earth, fire, cold, the GEP complex was being shielded and reinforced to handle it, to withstand all elements. That was unless, of course, a meteor dropped from the sky and landed on the complex.
When Martin looked at the plans, he saw some futuristic world.
He knew something was being constructed. It was assumed he was aware of the ‘what’, but he hadn’t gotten to that page of the book yet. When he did, he nodded to himself. It made sense. At least what the workers were doing.
But after the construction, even though the mountain was somewhat hidden, the other aspect being built was not and how long would that be shielded from the public?
A huge, clear plastic, reinforced dome was being built. Estimated time of completion, 45 days with two thousand men. It would extend high, two hundred feet, encircle a two-mile radius and seal against the western side of the mountain. The only way in was through the other end of the mountain.
The dome city. Tiny houses were being constructed. People would live in a controlled environment and watch the world outside go to ruin.
Three quarters of a million people would reside in the complex and dome city, a third of which were military and other professionals invited.
The rest would be by selection.
That was where Martin had a problem. Not the ‘lottery’ so much as the rules behind it.
And when those rules were released, he suspected that an uproar wouldn’t occur until the lottery selection. Then all hell would break loose. How could it not? It wasn’t fair.
The lottery was going to preserve life, yes. But Martin saw it as a means to also destroy life.
Didn’t matter. It was just another disaster in a long string of catastrophes waiting to happen.
A string of events that Martin had to witness and document.
28. Biblical
August 2nd
“Without a doubt a major geological event is underway. While authorities do not believe this will last much longer, in order for them to paint a complete picture of what is happening, they are asking for assistance from the general public, urging citizens to report any phenomenon, big or small.…”
Colin reached over and shut off the car radio. “Urging citizens. Ah, yes, every Joe will be calling in.”
Darius slumped in the passenger’s seat and shrugged. “You never know.”
“What gets me is the public is not dumb. The average fifth grader knows something big is happening.”
“Average fifth grader is smarter than most adults.”
“True.”
“Well, this conference should be a way to keep peace and calm. Unless of course they release that the world is going to shit.”
“I think they’ll release information, but I think, to keep chaos to a minimum, they’ll downplay it,” Darius said.
“Hopefully they’ll find a solution, no matter what it is, that will change the outcome or prevent so much destruction and loss of life.”
“Or stop it.”
“You can’t stop it, Darius.”
Darius chuckled. Yes, you can. I have a way.”
“Ah, yes, let’s blow up the world.”
“You’ll see.…” Darius then mumbled, “If we ever get to the conference.”
“Excuse me?” Colin shifted his eyes and looked at Darius. “Are we remarking about my driving?”
“Yes.”
“That’s right, Mr. 100 in a fifty-five zone.”
“I wanted to get there.”
“Yes, well, you got us pulled over.”
Darius wave out his hand.
“The officer not only pulled you over and wrote you a ticket, but he took your license as well.”
“Minor detail.”
“And could you remove your feet from the dashboard?”
With a grunt, Darius dropped his feet. “I’m bored.”
“Let’s talk.”
“Okay. Tell me about your plan.”
“I’d rather listen to Nancy Newscast nullify the apocalypse.”
“Fine.” Darius reached over and turn on the radio.
“Fine.” Colin turned up the volume.
***
Armando was a fruit picker before he crossed over the border from Mexico to the United States with his family and sought American citizenship. That was nearly twenty years earlier when his English was not so good. But now he spoke fluently and rarely did people ask him to repeat.
He was married for a while, but that didn’t work out. Nor did it breed children. It was the divorce that caused him to seek the real American Dream and migrate from Texas to Nevada to work in a casino.
He wanted to be a pit manager but was told that took years. So he started at the bottom. After two years he made it to the floor. He worked the nightshift cleaning ashtrays, but it was a good-paying job that afforded him the opportunity to meet lots of interesting people.
That was how he met Tony.
A year before Tony was losing on the slots, and he asked Armando what would be a good machine. Armando shrugged and pointed to another one.
Little did he know Tony would hit the progressive jackpot and give Armando ten thousand dollars.
Armando used that to move the rest of his family to America.
But he and Tony stayed friends.
It was Tony who got a call from his cousin in the Army. His cousin was working on some secret project and gave Tony a direct line to contact him if anything weird occurred, mainly because a lot of things were going to get buried by the news.
This special line was different from the number they were giving on the networks . . . .
Something big was happening, and the special project was part of it.
Tony told Armando this and Armando said he’d keep an eye out for it, although he wasn’t quite so sure what could possibly constitute a weird occurrence.
He had just finished the phone call with Tony and prepared to go to sleep. The morning sun was already bright, and Armando closed the shades and turned up the air conditioning. Even the air didn’t seem to cool down his small home.
The temperature outside had risen to 100 and it wasn’t even eight a.m.
He pulled down his bed sheets, changed his clothes and headed to the bathroom. He was so tired his legs were wobbly, and a full bladder didn’t help.
It as one of those times for a ‘s
it down’ urination.
After sitting and spreading his legs slightly so gravity could take effect, Armando released.
He sighed out with the rush of water that came from his organ, a steady full stream. Perhaps that was why the ‘splashing’ caught his attention. He blinked and worried. Had his urine become thick? Did he have a blood clot; something thick was in his urine to cause the abnormal water sound.
With that thought, the last dribble coming out, Armando prepared to lift and look.
Before he could, just behind his testicle sack a searing, sharp pain radiated into him and Armando sprang up, screaming at the top of his lungs. Excruciatingly, Armando reached down, and he saw it, the long brown snake attached to his testicles. Before he could reach it, he dropped to his knees. The agony had become paralyzing and just as he hit the floor, the snake released its grip and slithered away.
Armando didn’t see where it went. He curled up into a fetal position and tightened his entire body. Within seconds, everything turned black and he passed out.
***
Martin had a late start to his day. Usually he was on the computer before seven thirty Mountain Time.
But on this day he slept late, having been up until nearly the crack of dawn. He retrieved a cup of coffee and perched himself in front of his laptop.
After he opened his email program, saw a connection, then sipped his coffee and swiveled his chair, not paying attention.
He checked the stacks of paper he had to review, not thinking much about how long it was taking for his email to download.
When the bell sounded, he returned to his computer and nearly spat forth his coffee.
Over three hundred emails.
There had to be a spam error. Opening his inbox, he saw the darkened messages, but he also saw something else: A similar subject message to them all. Even though they were all from different people, some civilian email address, some military, they all had one word in common.
Snakes.
Snakes? Martin thought. What could be going on with snakes that so many people felt the urge to email him? In addition, how bad could it be?
***
The linoleum reflected the cool temperature of the bathroom. Air conditioning blasting, Armando woke feeling the cold. Lying on the bathroom floor, he moved his right leg and felt two things: Excruciating pain that radiated up his thigh and to his stomach, and dampness. He was able to move a little to look down.
A small pool of blood formed by his legs, but not much, that was a good sign, but his testicles had swollen at least five times their normal size.
The painful cramp continued, and as Armando came to a bit more, the fog lifted and he started to feel everything.
The tingling in his hands, the tremor to his body. Moving an inch made him want to vomit.
He shook so badly and was so cold that he knew he had a fever. He couldn’t even recall what type of snake it was that had latched on and bitten him. But he knew one thing; he needed help.
His phone was in his bedroom, not far away. If he could just stand or even crawl there.
Arm extending, Armando reached for the tub, and levered himself.
More pain.
Pulling on his inner strength, he managed to weakly stand.
His legs wobbled and felt as if they were asleep. He hoped that it was only the way he had lay, and not the effects of the bite.
Standing wasn’t much better, the pain was like a knife and each step was worse.
His vision was cloudy and the room spun.
The phone. He had to get the phone.
Holding on to the wall for support, Armando inched his way to his bedroom.
The phone sat on his bed, and he spotted his salvation.
The front door was unlocked. Call for help, and then collapse to the bed. Surely something was amiss with his health. Surely the snake was poisonous.
He reached for the phone when he heard the screaming outside.
Not just one person screaming, but many. What was going on? His window was directly behind his bed. No sooner did his arm reach for the blind, he heard the screeching of tires, followed by one crash, then another.
Sirens.
Eye shifting to the alarm clock, Armando noticed the time.
He had been passed out for more than an hour.
Audible pandemonium flowed to him, and with his forefinger and thumb, he parted the blinds.
Armando gasped.
The phone toppled from his hand.
People ran amuck, arms flailing, legs kicking. From them snakes hung, clinging with their fangs; some had slithered up their bodies.
They ran, but to where? Covering everything, every inch of grass and pavement, were snakes. Black, brown, green. Snakes.
Like thick, black tar that rained from the roofs.
Still not understanding where the people were running, Armando praised the safety of his home.
But that was short-lived.
No sooner did he sigh out in the thought of his household sanctuary, he heard the loud orchestra of hissing.
Slowly he turned from the window to see that he was no better off than those outside.
Snakes had taken over his room.
***
The whisper was so soft it was barely heard. But Darius knew what Colin said.
“Snakes?”
“Snakes,” Darius replied, showing him the text message.
Immediately Colin’s eyes shifted forward, even though he leaned sideways in his stadium-style seat.
Forward to the presentation on the floor.
They sat in the back of the auditorium in Washington. The first speaker was at the table on the floor before the panel of experts.
He didn’t look at the experts; he looked at the speaker.
Not ten minutes earlier, he and Darius were making fun of the speaker.
Doodling notes.
Poking fun at how the presenter was going to present his solution.
It was going to be interesting, considering he believed it was God’s end.
God’s end.
If that were true, then there really wasn’t a solution and the presenter was wasting the time of everyone in the room.
But the text from Bret to Darius saying ‘Snakes invaded Las Vegas’ caused a bit of a cringe in Colin.
It was biblical.
And it didn’t take long for the ‘snake’ news to reach the panel.
He only hoped that the snakes weren’t going to be a deciding point for the panel. If they decided it was all God’s end, then they would take no precautions.
And that wasn’t good.
Something had to be done. Colin hoped it was his idea. He was certain it would work.
And he wasn’t that far from the time to present his report.
He shifted his eyes back to Darius who was in a teenage texting frenzy with Bret.
Then Colin listened, watched the panel for what worked, what piqued their attention, and Colin learned more on what he should do.
29. Failure
What was he like beforehand? Martin wondered as he peered through the observation window of the sick bay. Inside the medical room a man, estimated swollen twice his normal size, lay laboring in his breathing. A nurse in a biohazard suit took his blood.
Carefully. Martin saw her apprehension, even through the window.
The nurse wasn’t experienced in it.
Martin wasn’t ready to fly immediately to the special facility in Nevada. But when it rained snakes or rather, the ground erupted with snakes, he had to go. As the observer. Despite how much he had to get ready.
The events unfolding in the world were making people antsy. He had hoped the conference would settle things. But with odd things like the snakes, people would panic. Put pressure on the system.
God help everything if it got out that the world was faced with extinction.
What was he like? Martin wondered again.
“He’s one of many,” the male voice spoke from behind him
.
In the glass, Martin caught the reflection of Ben King, chief virologist on board.
Martin turned around. “Excuse me?”
“He’s one of many. Anyone that was bit, got this.”
Shaking his head slowly, Martin mustered up a confused look. “How? Why? Are there unknown viruses carried by snakes?”
“There are many viruses that snakes carry, but none to my knowledge that they transmit. Hantavirus they help to control. This is showing signs of this, but it’s different.”
“What is God’s name?”
“Exactly,” Ben said. “Exactly.”
Martin wanted to scoff. Was Ben getting religious? Was he joining the masses on the Book of Revelation train?
“Nature’s going crazy.” Ben said. “New viruses were born every day before all this insanity. Now the heated temperature is just a fertile ground for them.”
“Is he going to die?” Martin asked.
“Looks like Armando Gonzales, at the rate his vitals are dropping, will not make it through the night. We have about ten percent of the people bitten that are recovering.”
“Everyone bitten is infected?”
Martin nodded. “Ten percent beat it.”
“Holy shit, a ninety percent fatality.”
“Good news . . .”
“Good news?”
“Good news, we don’t think it’s airborne. It’s a level four though. And contained.”
At that Martin did scoff. Contained? He turned and looked at Armando in the bed. How in the world could Ben declare the virus contained? Maybe in that one incident. But if the snakes in Nevada carried it, then chances are others did too. And maybe it wasn’t just limited to snakes.
That thought scared Martin.
***
Grace yammered in the background while Bret tried to talk on the phone to Virginia. But it was a fitting topic that Darius’ mother brought up.
Torn Page 31