The Drowned: Deluge Book 1: (A Thrilling Post-Apocalyptic Survival Story)
Page 21
“You judged? YOU judged? And because you…you machines made an error in your calculation—an error one of your own number pointed out—humanity is on its knees!”
“He was just a junior member of our team,” Lundberg said. “He had little credibility, his evidence of little weight.”
“And yet he was RIGHT!”
The two scientists watched as the vice president held her head in her hands. After some time, and without looking at them, she said, “Tell me there is some scientific way out of this. We can’t bring back our dead, but can we reclaim our land?”
“We cannot say. Our committee is looking into this…”
“No,” Buchanan said, fists on the table again. “Where is the scientist who warned you?”
Lundberg shrugged. “I do not know. His place of work is now underwater, but he might have evacuated himself beforehand.”
“I would have if I’d suspected this was coming,” Buchanan said. “He must be found.”
“Yes, Madam Vice President. We will get right on it.”
“No. You’ve had your chance. From now on, you work for me.”
Lundberg erupted from her chair. “But Madam Vice President, we were guaranteed freedom from political interference!”
“And where did that get us? Ted,” she said, gesturing to the big man in the black suit who’d remained silently in front of the door.
“Yes, Madam Vice President?”
“I want you to head up a new task force. Find this scientist, if he’s still alive. Find him and bring him to me. He can tell us what he knows and how to fix things.”
#
Lundberg waited until they were inside the helicopter, the drone of the rotors making private conversation possible.
“Why did you tell her about Baxter?”
“Because she asked. We have hidden from the truth for too long, Else. We must take responsibility for what we have done.”
“What we’ve done? Tried to save the world?”
“And failed.”
They spent the rest of the flight in silence, finally touching down at the Life Science Institute in Denver.
Professor Else Lundberg left her colleague in her wake as she stormed along the corridors of the institute. She made a brief call and waited in her small office—much smaller than the briefing room of the VP—until there was a knock on the door.
“Come in, Helmut.”
A lean man with a head that appeared to grow directly out of his shoulders came briskly into the room and stood on the other side of her desk.
“This man has become a danger to us,” she said, handing him a sheet of paper with a photo of Ed Baxter paperclipped to it. “I want you to find him. Bring him here, if you can. If not, eliminate him. The vice president must not get him.”
“Jawohl. Tot oder lebendig. Dead or alive.”
DELUGE Book 2
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