“Looks like it still hurts,” said David.
“Of course it still hurts. It’s a bullet wound,” said Larsen, reading between the lines. “I’ll be fine. Dr. Hale can stitch me up better when we get back. Dan? I assume we can access all of the external cameras from the security hub?”
“Right. We have a diagram of the campus, with additional sensor input. Motion detectors. Pressure plates. Perimeter tamper detectors. We should be able to form the best picture from there.”
“Then let’s get the show on the road,” said Larsen.
The walk back to the security hub felt better with the compressed bandage in place, but it was far from ideal. The pain was manageable but persistent. He imagined it would worsen with another dead sprint like before. He’d done the wound no favors during the last few minutes outside the campus gate, and it had punished him with steady bleeding, despite the hemostatic powder he had packed into it. That said, the worst-case scenario out there was more pain. The bullet wound was mostly superficial, presenting no life-threatening complications other than slowing him down, which could be quite lethal under the circumstances.
When they reached the hub, Howard let them inside the surveillance core, where a single uniformed security officer sat at a semicircular desk that faced a one-hundred-and-eighty-degree array of curved flat-screen monitors. At least three dozen camera feeds appeared on the screens, panning and shifting almost constantly.
“This is Gary Hoenig. He’s the only security operations officer that showed up yesterday, and pretty much the only person in this building that knows how to operate the high-tech surveillance system. How does it look at Gate 15?”
“Still a few stragglers,” he said. “But most of them have lost interest. I counted about sixty or so in the group that chased you to the gate. Another minute out there and—well, you know what would have happened.”
A massive section of screens in the center of the array blinked, almost instantly displaying a color camera feed labeled G15:0710.35. Larsen counted five figures stumbling aimlessly within view. A woman pressed against the fence, hands grasped around the iron bars, appearing to be looking inside the campus.
“Check this out,” said Hoenig, splitting the screen into two feeds.
The new video image was labeled D38:0711.04 and showed the person’s head pressed through the bars.
“She’s stuck,” said Dr. Chang.
“Ripped her ears right off jamming that melon through,” said Hoenig.
“That’s fucking crazy,” said David. “The rest of them don’t attack her?”
“Oddly, no,” said Howard. “We’ve seen them turn on each other all night.”
“What did you mean by ‘you know what would have happened’?” said Jack Harper.
Hoenig swiveled his chair to face them. “I meant if you got caught in the open by the mob.”
“What would have happened?” said Jack.
“What do you mean?” said Hoenig, a confused look on his face. “You’ve been out there all night, right?”
“We landed in the city ten minutes before we arrived at the gate,” said David.
“Landed?” said Hoenig.
“On Interstate 70 by South East Street exit, in a small plane. We came straight here.”
“Will someone tell me what happens with these mobs?” said Larsen.
“People get torn to pieces,” said Howard. “Literally torn to pieces.”
“Bullshit,” said Jack. “Things are bad out there, but not that bad.”
“You want to see for yourself?” said Hoenig. “I can replay some of the video captured last night.”
“Please don’t,” said Emma.
“Yes. Please don’t. I think our short trip from the interstate clearly demonstrated that the mobs are lethal,” said David.
“Agreed,” said Larsen before moving closer to the enlarged center image. “Can you get us a Google Earth map of the area right around this campus? Satellite version?”
“Sure thing,” said Hoenig. “I think we’re still connected to the internet by satellite. Even if we weren’t, I have a full package of maps that would do the trick.”
The oversized video feed switched to a satellite map of downtown Indianapolis, which the security officer adjusted to center directly over the NevoTech campus.
“What’s your address, Dr. Chang?” said Larsen.
Hoenig typed the Virginia Avenue address, shifting the image slightly northeast.
“That’s not far at all,” said Larsen. “Can’t be more than a half mile. Maybe less. Is that a gate connecting to Merrill Street? Jesus. We could drive there in thirty seconds.”
“What about your friends out there?” said David, raising an eyebrow.
He was right. They had to approach Chang’s apartment as quietly and discreetly as possible. The team assigned to the apartment had likely received a warning that Larsen had gone rogue. It wouldn’t take Control long to link the airport escape to Larsen’s communications blackout.
“What friends?” said Howard, eyeing him skeptically.
“I was part of a Homeland team assigned to locate and escort Dr. Chang to safety. Like a VIP protective detail. My team was presumably one of four that parachuted into the greater Indianapolis area. I can only assume one of the teams is watching the apartment, which complicates things.”
Hoenig and Howard spoke at the same time, each sounding extremely concerned by the information he just shared.
“One at a time, please,” said Larsen. “Howard?”
“You don’t have communications with the other teams?” said Howard.
“Negative. The program is extremely compartmentalized. No communication is allowed between teams. Control directs everything.”
“Can’t you ask this headquarters or Control place to deconflict our arrival?” said Howard before muttering a few obscenities under his breath. “Wait. Where’s the rest of your team?”
“That’s what I was going to ask,” said Hoenig. “Among other things.”
Howard shared a very uncomfortable look with Hoenig, which spread to the other tactical officers positioned around the room. Shit. This could spiral out of control quickly if he didn’t adequately ease their fears. Keeping his hands clear of his rifle, Larsen started to explain, but was immediately cut off by Chang.
“I saw what happened to his team,” said Chang. “Eric Larsen disobeyed an order to kill me, sparking a mutiny among his teammates. In the span of a second, everyone was dead except him. There’s absolutely no doubt in my mind that this man is one of the good guys. Unfortunately, the same can’t be said about the rest of the teams out there.”
“Everything he said is the truth. My orders went from locate and protect to capture or kill within the span of fifteen minutes. I didn’t sign up for an assassination squad,” said Larsen, looking around the room. “That’s why I can’t contact Control—and why we need to be very careful approaching the apartment. I wouldn’t be surprised if the other teams have been warned about me.”
“Man, this whole thing is one giant shit show,” said Howard, still looking entirely apprehensive about the situation.
“A shit show that could get us all killed,” said one of Howard’s officers.
“Seriously,” said Howard. “And why would the Department of Homeland Security want Chang dead or captured?”
“Dr. Chang has a few theories,” said Larsen.
“Without boring all of you—”
“Trust me. You have our attention,” said Howard.
“This is high-level nondisclosure information…but I suppose we’re past that point now,” said Chang. “I’m currently developing a preventative vaccine against herpes simplex one and two, which would theoretically double as a preventative measure against a herpes simplex-based bioweapon, which is what I strongly believe this to be.”
“I guarantee you that a herpes outbreak didn’t cause what I’ve seen on my screens,” said Hoenig.
“Technically, it did, b
ut not in the traditional sense of how we view herpes simplex. I had a chance to examine a blood sample, which contained a modified strain of herpes simplex one. Weaponized might be a better word. This strain aggressively seeks out the central nervous system and triggers herpes simplex encephalitis, a particularly nasty and typically rare condition.”
“And this causes people to kill each other in the streets like psychopaths?” said Howard.
“That’s the theory. Herpes simplex encephalitis impacts the temporal lobe, lowering or eliminating inhibitions—which has long been documented to cause aggression.”
“This is more than aggression, Dr. Chang,” added Howard. “They are literally ripping each other apart like animals out there.”
“I wish I could give you a definitive scientific answer, but I would need weeks to unravel the DNA coding variations to determine precisely how this virus turns people into murderous lunatics,” said Chang.
“So why do they want you dead or in custody?” said Howard.
“Because I’m one of a handful of scientists with enough experience in the herpes simplex virus research field to authoritatively determine that the virus in question has been extensively weaponized. The government had a vested interest in my vaccine project. Certain state sponsors of terrorism have been trying to weaponized herpes simplex encephalitis for years—unsuccessfully for the most part.”
“For the most part?” said Howard.
“A similar virus may have been used against a Russian city several years ago. All rumor. I became interested in this field based on that rumor. It was too terrifying a prospect to ignore.”
“Maybe I’m missing something,” said Hoenig. “But it sounds like the government would want to do everything in their power to keep you safe—unless they suspected you were somehow behind this outbreak.”
“Or the government was behind the attack,” said Chang. “Twenty-four cities have been hit.”
“Bullshit,” said Hoenig. “I heard something about Fort Wayne and Columbus, but those are pretty close. An easy few hours’ drive for a scientist carrying a beaker full of nightmares.”
“Add Cleveland, Cincinnati, Louisville, Milwaukee, Des Moines, Minneapolis, St. Louis, Detroit, Pittsburg, Nashville and Memphis to that list. You have internet access. Try to get any live coverage from inside one of those cities. Then check out Chicago, San Francisco, San Diego, Los Angeles, Boston, Atlanta, Denver, Philadelphia, Hartford and Seattle. Actually, start with one of those. Those cities weren’t under full lockdown last time I checked. You’ll immediately see some similarities to what was happening in Indianapolis a few days ago,” said Chang.
“I will,” said Hoenig, typing furiously at his keyboard.
Several smaller screens changed around the fringes of the satellite map, all of them displaying HTTP ERROR 500 (INTERNAL SERVER ERROR). The typing continued, but the screens remained the same.
“I just hope none of those represent the bigger cities,” said Chang.
“I haven’t gotten to them yet,” said Hoenig. “I have to admit this is fucking odd. Not a single local affiliate link works. Radio or TV. I’ve even tried a few municipal sites.”
“Most of them went down early in the afternoon,” said Chang.
“Gentlemen, we need to get this show on the road. The longer we wait, the worse this will get out there,” said Larsen. “Do you trust us or not?”
“Looks like this is bigger than Indianapolis and the Midwest,” said Hoenig. “Check it out.”
The satellite map changed to a live news report from Seattle, which highlighted the recent activation of Washington National Guard units to assist hospitals and emergency responders with the worsening flu outbreak. They watched in silence for nearly a minute.
“Are we good?” said Larsen.
“I’m good,” said Howard. “Gary?”
Hoenig nodded. “We’re good.”
The rest of Howard’s team agreed, dropping the tension level back to normal.
“I still think you’re biting off more than you can chew trying to get to that doctor,” said Hoenig. “How do you discreetly infiltrate an actively watched apartment building with a horde of lunatics chasing you down?”
“We get close enough without attracting their attention,” said Larsen, “then deal with the apartment.”
Hoenig shook his head, sending the map back to the screen. “Good luck with that,” he said, moving the mouse cursor to trace the closest approach to Chang’s address. “The chances of crossing this ground unobserved are slim to none. The street may look deserted, but it fills up fast whenever someone walks by.”
“What about the dead-end street just above it?” said Larsen. “Looks like it leads to a parking garage next to Chang’s apartment.”
“The garage is connected on the second floor,” said Chang. “The apartment comes with a space in the garage.”
“Perfect,” said Larsen.
“They’ll be watching that entrance,” said David.
“Doesn’t matter,” said Larsen. “If the garage is connected, I can figure out a way to get into the apartment building. Might take a little climbing or parkour, but I’ll manage.”
“You still have the same problem. Possibly worse,” said Hoenig. “The map is a little deceptive. Warsaw Street is across from the main campus parking lot, which isn’t fully enclosed by the campus fence. A lot of people have died there, but that’s mostly because they drove in and parked…drawing a lot of attention.”
“They parked?” said David.
“In neat rows. Some in their assigned spaces,” said Hoenig.
“Why the fuck would they do that?” said David.
“Most employees don’t realize the lot is essentially wide open. They drive up and there’s a gate with a guard shack, all connected to a formidable-looking fence, but the fence only extends to the trees about a hundred feet on each side. After the first few killings, we drove out there and posted signs, but nobody paid attention. Then we disabled the gate, but that just made things worse. People left their cars and climbed the gate, only to be torn apart fifty feet into the parking lot. We keep it open now. If anyone shows up, all we can do is try to get to them before they get out of their cars.”
“We’ll have to create some kind of diversion,” said Larsen.
“One that doesn’t alert the other teams,” said Howard.
“Right. That’s the trick,” said Larsen, studying the image for a few moments. “What exactly happens when a car pulls into the lot?”
“A dozen or so crazies spill out of the trees and bushes that ring the parking lot, running full speed toward the car and whoever gets out.”
“From different directions?”
Howard nodded. “Yeah. That’s why it’s so dangerous. We don’t know where they’ll emerge the next time.”
“They go back into hiding after a kill?” said Chang. “To the same hiding spots?”
“Yes to both questions. They don’t like to linger in the open,” said Howard.
“Does this frenzy draw any infected from outside the lot?” said Larsen.
“If it goes on long enough, they start streaming in from the surrounding streets,” said Howard.
“That could work to our advantage,” said Larsen. “How long are we talking?”
“We had a few vehicles pull in and get mobbed before anyone got out. Those lasted the longest,” said Howard. “The people inside put up a fight, but got yanked out eventually. I’d say anything lasting over five minutes will start to pull crazies from the streets. Longer than five minutes and we could empty the side streets, especially if it’s loud. Gunfire draws them in like moths to a flame.”
“Gunfire might alert anyone watching Chang’s apartment,” said Larsen.
“You’re gonna have shooting no matter what. That’s the new norm with the mobs,” said Howard. “However, if we can get you to the other side of East Street unobserved, you could hide out and let things quiet down. Trust me. If the team sitting on
Chang’s apartment has been here for most of the night, they won’t think twice about a flurry of gunshots.”
“Then that’s the plan,” said Larsen. “We drive one of your vehicles to the opposite side of the parking lot and create a lot of noise.”
“We?” said Jack Harper. “I thought the mob pulled people out of the cars and ripped them apart?”
“Shit. I just assumed you have at least one hardened vehicle?” said Larsen.
“We do,” said Howard. “A bullet-resistant Suburban. Run-flat tires. The works.”
“And you want one of us to drive it?” said Jack.
“I’ll do it,” said Joshua Olson.
“No, you won’t,” said David.
“I want to do something,” said his son.
“Negative,” said Howard. “Mitch will drive the vehicle. It’ll get extremely dicey out there. Imagine forty to fifty people swarmed around you.”
“Thanks a lot,” said Mitch jokingly.
“Hey, you’re the one that volunteered to go on the rescue mission,” said Howard. “Careful what you ask for.”
The group laughed nervously.
“The rest of my team and a few of the perimeter guards will be split between the perimeter vehicle gate and the roof, ready to thin the herd around the car so we can get Mitch back in one piece.”
“Do you have any smoke grenades?” said Larsen. “I was thinking we could plop a few down in the eastern end of the parking lot to cut down on our chances of being spotted by any swivel heads in the mob.”
“I have an array of goodies that might pique your interest,” said Howard.
“Then that’s it,” said Larsen.
“The last time you said that, things went sideways pretty quickly,” said David.
“As I recall, the plan was a complete success,” said Larsen. “Just a little more dramatic.”
“If you consider nearly getting shot down by a helicopter a ‘little more dramatic,’ I suppose I might agree with you,” said David, and the rest of them laughed.
“Technically, my plan ended when the plane took off,” said Larsen, exposing a wicked grin.
KILL BOX: A Post-Apocalyptic Pandemic Thriller (The Zulu Virus Chronicles Book 2) Page 4