by JT Sawyer
Blake stared at her, trying to process her story. “So, either these freaks are frightened by the sight of blood or they must need us for food or God knows what else.”
“Or it’s something about our blood,” said Vic. He rubbed the back of his neck, staring at the ground. “Are either of you on medication of any kind?”
Both of them shook their heads. “What about anything you were born with, like a genetic disease or a congenital disorder?” said Vic.
Blake shook his head again, giving an impatient look as he pointed to a gaunt woman in her fifties to their right. “All I know from talking to that lady over there who has been here the longest, is that these things come once a day and remove two to three people at a time. Now, it can’t be to feed all these creatures—there are hundreds of thousands of them from what I’ve seen on the streets. It has to be for that leader of theirs I mentioned. What other explanation is there?”
Vic bit his lower lip, taking a deep breath. “Lord help us.” He made the sign of the crucifix then leaned against the wall.
“Here’s my religious gesture, Doc,” Blake said, extending his heavily tattooed arm to the ground and picking up a dislodged section of concrete. He palmed the triangle-shaped rock in his hand and looked down the tunnel entrance. “When the time is right, we fight back and smash those worm-ridden motherfuckers into the ground, then make a run for it.”
“To where? The city is overtaken. The army is gone, and everyone is scattered or in hiding,” said Allison.
“Anywhere but here. I’d rather take my chances on the streets as I always have than die like a rat in the sewers.”
“Are you proposing we fight our way past those things? We’d be slaughtered,” said Allison.
“I’m not going to die today, sister. I say we wait for the right time to surprise them and then sprint for the entrance. There’s no way I’m just gonna wait here for them to drag me off for supper.” He peered around the corner, out towards the shadows of the creatures in the passageway ahead. “I noticed earlier that some of them seem to peel off from the others and head down the tunnel towards the entrance. Not sure what that’s about, but if it happens again then we need to take advantage of the numbers.”
Allison reached down and grabbed a broken section of rusty rebar, her hand shaking. “Count me in.”
“Me too,” Vic whispered, gulping down a breath of stale air as the vein in his neck throbbed.
Chapter 18
Admiral McKenzie was standing on the deck, watching another round of cargo planes head off for Pearl Harbor. They were taking desperately needed medical supplies to the base and then heading on to rendezvous with the U.S. Navy hospital ship, GoodWill, forty miles off the coast of Baja, where it was returning from its previous humanitarian mission before the pandemic.
He took in a deep breath of warm tropical air and felt the comforting sunlight upon his face. He’d spent too much time inside the command center, the briefing room, or his office during the past week since the virus broke out, and realized this was the first time he’d had more than a minute alone.
His morning video-conference with General Dorr at MacDill AFB in Florida had gone without any glitches, and the SOCOM commander in charge of what was left of the United States military had given him the green light to proceed with whatever actions he deemed necessary for stopping further cyber-attacks. McKenzie also alluded to damning evidence against the CIA and its agents that he had obtained from Jebwe Island, and indicated he was going to forward the pertinent material on to Dorr. He reflected on the email he had composed and would be sending shortly to the other remaining commanders spread around the remaining bases in the country.
This is a nation in mourning and now we are under attack from abroad due to the release of this deadly virus by rogue elements within the CIA. When it finally comes out that the U.S. was behind this pandemic, either from China or elsewhere, the country will need a face to stamp on this catastrophe if we are to prevent it from disintegrating any further. From all indications, CIA Director David Siegel was the pivotal figure in developing the bioweapon and releasing it on Chinese soil. His subordinates, in particular Jonas Runa and William Reisner, acted on his behalf to cover up the Agency’s involvement with the deadly pandemic and are to be considered enemies of the state.
Though they had performed with distinction while attached to the Reagan, Reisner and his team’s history with the CIA and the incriminating evidence McKenzie had in his possession from Hayes’ development of the virus, made him a central figurehead to make accountable in the public arena. The morale of the country was at stake, and if any chatter ever leaked out about China launching a cyber-attack upon the U.S. in retaliation for the bioweapon released on their soil, someone needed to be in the crosshairs. If only Siegel had survived—that son of a bitch. The thought of casting someone of Reisner’s abilities and seeming integrity to the wolves made McKenzie’s stomach churn, but too much was at stake with the psychological welfare of the military, and someone had to answer for Siegel’s nefarious actions.
He made a fist, tapping it on the white railing as he stared out at the ocean, knowing he needed to muster the strength to send the email, along with the incriminating files he had carefully selected to implicate Reisner.
Chapter 19
Klamath Falls, Oregon
Air National Guard Base
After hastily refueling their plane at the empty airfield where they had left their plane prior to extracting Pacelle, Reisner and his team flew north to the southern edge of Oregon. The three-hour flight allowed just enough time for Reisner to fall into a light sleep. He was beyond exhausted, but the residual effect of constant adrenaline dumps from their battle at Pacelle’s cabin and the thought of what was to come, prevented him from anything other than fitful rest. Plus, the one bright spot in his day was looking forward to seeing Selene’s face at the National Guard Base. She would be arriving on her flight from the Reagan with Ivins and his SEAL team around the same time.
He knew it would be a brief respite—the short calm before another major storm. That had always summed up his career as a field agent, but now there was no quick-reaction force to bail them out if things went to hell, and no hope for prisoner exchange if they were captured by the enemy. The monsters they were going to face were without mercy, and only saw them as mobile food. He wished after this last mission procuring Pacelle that he and his team could have returned to Langley, debriefed, then headed out to the bar for a round of drinks and backslapping—but those days were over. Reisner realized that having any chance of eradicating this new enemy wasn’t something the human race was going to accomplish in a few weeks or months, and once they had succeeded, the country was in shambles, adrift in a fractured world. He took in a deep breath as he sat up in his seat. One problem at a time.
Reisner saw the airfield coming into view through his window. He was about to lean over and nudge Connelly awake, but let her be. May as well let her enjoy these last few minutes of peace.
Upon disembarking, they were given a hasty introduction to the small base by the 173rd Fighter Wing Commander, Colonel James Maguire.
As Reisner followed alongside the commander, he kept looking around at the empty buildings and quiet airfield. “I would have expected more activity here. From what McKenzie said, you’re the last air base in the Pacific Northwest, next to Fairchild.”
Maguire gave a solemn nod. “That’s right. We’ve only got about two hundred people here, a large portion of which are civilians.”
“How did you manage to keep out the creatures?” said Nash, looking at the exterior perimeter of twelve-foot-high fences, which appeared untrammeled.
“The fences are electrical, so that helps, but I also had my squadron bomb the hell out of the land encircling the entire base, which wasn’t hard to do given our small size. That created a deep moat of sorts, which we then filled with ordinance.” He stopped and pointed to the outlying countryside to the north. “Frankly, this was not a
heavily populated area anyway, so other than a few days of intense battle between us and those things, it’s been pretty quiet.” He continued walking, waving his hand towards a hangar with three helicopters inside. “Mostly, we’re just doing rescue and resupply operations when we hear about other survivors in the outlying regions.”
He opened the door to a conference room attached to the side of the main building, and led them inside. “And all the large cities like Portland, Seattle, Salt Lake, and Boise…” He folded his arms and looked down. “There’s not much left, from what we’ve been able to gather. Pockets of survivors here and there, mostly.”
Porter reached into his pocket, removing the schematics that Pacelle had given him. “Colonel, this may be of use. We discovered back in Eureka that there’s a particular low frequency that stops the paras in their tracks, almost immobilizing them. Perhaps some of your tech guys can fashion audio devices that you can blare from the helos when approaching an LZ.” Porter waved his thumb towards Pacelle. “That’s courtesy of our new recruit over here.”
Maguire studied the drawing. “Incredible—this could be huge. I’ll have my people get right on it.”
Reisner dropped his backpack and looked at the wall map of the United States on the right. It was covered with hundreds of red tacks and around three dozen green markers. Maguire moved closer, waving his hand along the map. “The red ones symbolize regions that are dark—no comms whatsoever. The green ones are our last remaining military outposts and command centers.” He turned and glanced at the rest of the team. “A lot has changed in our world in just one week, hasn’t it?”
Reisner swallowed hard, his eyes widening. He’d heard reports from McKenzie about mortality rates, but seeing this stark visual of the country was a gut punch. His attention was pulled away to the window when he saw a C40A Clipper jet landing on the runway. His mood lightened a little knowing Selene was inside, and he felt an instinctive need to shield her from the numbers of fatalities listed along the East Coast.
Maguire walked around to the other side of his desk and typed on his laptop, pulling up a series of satellite images of Los Angeles. “Here’s the information McKenzie said you would need for your mission.”
Andre moved up and examined the L.A. photograph, pointing his finger to a building downtown near the Department of Justice. “That’s it, right there—get me inside of that NSA facility and I will be able to work my wonders.”
Reisner and the others moved closer to the monitor. “Looks like we can just land on their helipad on the roof.”
“That’s all I need. I can disable the security systems in place after that, as long as you guys”—he paused to look at Connelly—“and gal can keep the beasts at bay long enough for me to handle things on my end; a few hours at most.”
Reisner’s eyebrows shot up as he glanced at the others. “Oh, just a few hours to hold off a bunch of ravenous freaks.”
Maguire clicked on another image. “And here is San Francisco. I’ve instructed my two Blackhawk pilots to take you there first, though you’ll have to fill them in on the exact coordinates, since McKenzie didn’t know.”
“That’s why Selene…Doctor Munroe is coming,” said Reisner, who had seen Selene and her group approaching through the window. “She’s got that information.”
The door opened and Ivins walked in, followed by Munroe and the rest of the SEALs, who hastily dropped their gear in the corner. Reisner felt his feet moving forward, as if he was being pulled towards Selene. Her eyes were fixed on him and, for a second, it felt like they were the only two people in the room. He could see her fatigue had washed away and was replaced by a calm expression. Reisner planted himself firmly and wiped away his smile, giving a stolid nod to Ivins and the other SEALs, who seemed more detached than usual. He wasn’t sure if it was from the constant stress of endless missions or something else. The seven other SEALs didn’t make eye contact with him or his team, and went about rummaging through their gear bags.
He motioned towards Selene, trying to keep his voice monotone. “Good to see you again, Doctor. We were just going over the route south into California. Perhaps you can enlighten us on where we are headed in San Francisco.”
She cleared her throat. “Nice to see you all too,” she said without looking around at the others.
Selene lowered a large duffle bag that contained her biohazard suit and medical supplies, then moved up to the monitor, standing beside Reisner. She let her fingers float along the image of the city until it rested on a spot near where the Golden Gate Bridge had been located. “Before it was turned over to the Park Service in 1995, the Presidio was one of the oldest military bases in the country, caring for over eighteen thousand soldiers returning from World War I. During the 1918 Spanish Flu that killed millions of people around the world, Letterman Hospital at the Presidio was the largest Army hospital in the country. The physicians there treated hundreds of flu victims, burying some of the dead in a small gravesite a quarter-mile away from the main grounds.”
“And this history lesson is going where?” said Connelly.
Selene paused to shoot the woman an irritated glance. “Those gravesites are an epidemiological time capsule. I need to excavate one of the coffins and remove a sample of lung tissue that I can then use for recreating the original 1918 flu virus. Once I have that back at the research wing on the Navy hospital ship, I can go about reconstructing Professor Hayes’ bioweapon and find out how to combat this pandemic and hopefully destroy the creatures.”
“Digging up an infected mummy—isn’t that a job for a biohazard crew who can contain the resulting airborne outbreak?” said Porter.
“There’s no risk of infection unless you’re standing right over the dissected lung tissue and snorting,” quipped Selene with a faint grin. “This tissue contains only trace elements of the virus, and will have to be reconstituted back in a laboratory setting.”
“So, no mummy-blow for you on this trip,” whispered Nash as he lightly punched Porter in the arm.
“And the cemetery is where, exactly?” said Reisner, standing with his arms folded while squinting at the image of the Presidio, then glancing over his shoulder at Ivins, who only shrugged. Reisner figured the SEAL commander had already gotten an earful of the plan from Selene on the flight over.
“It should be here,” Selene said, tapping her finger on the monitor towards the edge of a grassy field.
“‘Should be,’” said Connelly.
“The cemetery was only used briefly after World War I. It is probably overgrown, but the records from the Park Service a few years ago indicate that the graves were left intact when they assumed custody of the facility from the Army.”
“Diggin’ in the ground with shovels is gonna draw a lot of attention,” said Nash, studying the grounds.
“We’ll need to create a distraction to the west,” said Reisner. “A nice, big explosion would be great.” He looked over at Ivins again.
“Exactly what I had in mind,” the SEAL replied as he moved up by Maguire’s desk. “I’ll have four of my men provide overwatch with sniper support on the two Park Service buildings near the cemetery while the rest of my team handles the diversion and resulting wave of creatures in that region. That just leaves you and your crew to do all the grave-digging.”
Pacelle shuffled forward. “Pardon the interruption on the quaint briefing, but none of this will matter in the least if the Chinese complete the breach of our energy grids. The mission to the NSA building should take precedence over this.”
Reisner knew Andre was right but didn’t want to acknowledge the fact outright. He’d thought of the same thing but surmised they could be in and out of the Presidio in a few hours. With the limited fuel the helicopters would have, they needed to accomplish both missions efficiently so they could have enough fuel to rendezvous with the hospital ship near Baja.
Maguire stepped closer, thrusting his hand towards the window. “I can only spare two of my three Blackhawks here. You can u
se them how you see fit, but if it were me leading this team, I wouldn’t be splitting my resources up.”
Reisner nodded in agreement. “We get in and out of San Francisco as quickly as possible then proceed to our primary target.” He looked around the room for any questions. “Alright, my team.” Reisner paused to looked at Maguire. “With the colonel’s permission, get resupplied on food, water, and ammo and meet in the Blackhawk in thirty minutes.” Reisner moved over towards Porter, putting his arm on the lean operator’s shoulder. “And get with one of the engineers here and see about procuring some of the transmitters or whatever you need to construct some of those audio deterrents Andre was using.”
“Best of luck to you all,” said Maguire. He walked to the door and led Ivins and his men out of the room with their gear as Reisner’s team gathered their packs and rifles.
“We gonna have any time to stop at one of those wineries on the way down?” said Porter. “It’d be good to have a little hooch in me while I’m digging up some fossilized dude.”
“When this day is over and we’re all back on that hospital ship, I’ll buy the first round of drinks in the lounge,” said Nash as he and the others walked outside.
***
After exiting the building, Connelly slowed her pace, trailing behind the others as they made their way towards the supply depot. She stopped for a second and turned, glancing back at the conference room, which had felt claustrophobic after Selene arrived. Munroe’s an intelligent and relatively attractive woman, so I get what he sees in her, but why does the woman have to keep appearing just when it seems like we’ll be free of her for a while? She blew a strand of raven hair off her nose then looked away towards the forest in the distance. Connelly hadn’t felt settled in her life in a long time, even before the pandemic, what with the death of her parents a few years earlier and then being adrift as an only child. After she graduated at the top of her class at the Farm, Runa had immediately assigned her to Reisner’s team in Syria during their last month of deployment. She was thrust into being a replacement for an injured agent and had to prove herself under the scrutinizing eyes of the rest of the team. Connelly had taken an instant liking to Reisner both for his fieldcraft abilities and his personal demeanor, which came across more as a big brother at times then as a demanding boss. Their last week in Syria involved them working together during a reconnaissance mission, and she found her admiration for him slowly morphing into emotions she swore she’d never tread in professionally. After their mission to the Atropos and the devastation throughout the globe, Connelly found her world closing in around her and knew most of her few friends back east were probably gone and that Porter, Nash, and Reisner were the only ones left in her rapidly diminishing inner circle. Reisner had become even more of an anchor for stability in the troubled waters of her soul.