by Lundy, W. J.
With a nod, he reached toward her, receiving a folder. He placed it in front of him and opened it, removing a type-written page. “I’m prepared to offer each of you a position. Being military and law enforcement, the security team would be the best—”
“You need to shut down the jamming,” Luke said, cutting him off.
“Excuse me?” the man said.
“People are dying out there because they can’t communicate. There’s a military base being overrun. They can’t get support in or out from the airfields because of the jamming. We need to shut it off.”
The director smiled, his lip twitching nervously. “There is no jamming.”
“Shut it off,” Luke snapped back.
The man snarled and repeated, “There is no jamming. We broadcast an emergency message and instructions to the people by the President’s order. Only the President can order it to be turned off.”
Luke shrugged and looked at his men. “If the President hasn’t shown up by now, he’s probably dead. Washington is a ghost town now—only the Primals live there.”
“You liar,” the director shouted.
Luke had finally struck a nerve. He could see the guards’ posture stiffen. Clive looked confused, and the doctor’s hands twitched nervously. Luke watched as the guard with the red cap gripped the handle of a taser.
Shaking his head, Luke said, “There’s no reason to lie in here, pal. What would I have to gain? All we want is to give the people out there a fighting chance. We know about the people in Colorado calling the shots, the communications window, and that half the East Coast is wasteland. You don’t need to sugarcoat the shit for us. People are dying out there because you have the radios shut down, and we can’t get instructions to them.”
“Now, just wait a minute,” the director said, holding up a hand. “That is not what’s happening.”
Luke stood. “No. We don’t have minute; people are dying right now. Maybe it was a good idea to give the media a time-out when things were frantic, but that’s over. Now turn the communications back on.”
The director’s hands were shaking, the paper held between his fingers rattling like a leaf. “There is no jammer.”
Luke sat back down and leaned against the wall with his arms crossed. He could see the shock in Clive’s and the other guards’ faces. They had no idea—this was all new to them. Whitaker looked away and avoided eye contact. He smirked; she knew about the radio interference. To the director, he said, “I’m not interested in taking a security position with anyone jamming the voices of people just trying to survive. I’d rather take my chances outside.”
Slamming the paper to the table, the director rose from his chair. “Very well then. I am not running a prison, here. I have no obligation to shelter you. I want you out of my facility, now.” He turned to one of the guards and said, “Give these people back their equipment and return them to the gate. If they come back, shoot on sight—and no more trespassers, or you can pick a replacement.” Then he turned and stormed out of the room.
Weaver stood up and stretched. “Well, I think that went well.”
Luke looked at the faces of his team. They were all smiling. For a moment, he thought he might have made a mistake, playing his cards so hard—they may have preferred this steak-and-potato hideout—but now, looking at their grins, he knew he’d made the right choice. That, or they just appreciated a good show.
The red hat guard shouted, “You heard the man. You’ve got five minutes to grab your shit, then we’re walking you all on out of here.”
As Luke moved toward the door, the doctor stopped him. “Can we have a word?”
Luke shrugged. “According to Mister Mustache, I got five minutes to burn.”
“Are you sure about the jamming? Is it really having that effect out there? We were told it was to keep populations controlled so the C.N.R.T. could manage the response to the infection by controlling the message and delivering all instructions. I mean, we were told it’s working.”
“C.N.R.T… What exactly is this ‘Nert’ I keep hearing about?” Luke asked, answering her question with a question.
“They are the command for the response. The Coordinated National Response Team, to be exact. They are running everything. Put in place by the President once things went critical, they’re running everything from the FEMA camps to finding a cure for the infection. Everyone in the national government reports to them.”
Luke shook his head. “Well, they’re also blocking military communications, preventing units in the field from getting help. Preventing Camp Alamo from getting the air support they need. Hell, our trucks can’t even talk to each other over long distances. We don’t even know how many survivors are left out there because nobody can call for help. Local radio stations are even blocked.”
“No, that’s not right,” she said, “That’s not what the interference is. It’s just an override. The emergency broadcast has been playing twenty-four hours a day with instructions since all of this started.”
“No, ma’am, just clicks and beeps. Radio, cell phones, all of it. You put us in the dark.”
Her mouth opened, and she looked down at the floor. “I had no idea.”
“Well, you do now. If you have any say in it, get the jamming shut off.” He went to step away but before he did, he looked back at her. “You know, if we can’t kill it the nice way, the Marines are going to eventually roll up here and blow it all. Secret is out, lady. We all know what’s going on here.” He grinned. “And I know the Marines. They won’t care what they blow up with it. Not sure you all want that.” He didn’t wait for an answer and moved into the hallway to join the others.
Weaver was waiting for him by the exit door, smiling. “Sweet words goodbye?”
Luke shook his head. “Something like that.”
Red Hat was waving his hand, and Luke and the team followed him and the other guards through the exit door and into a long corridor. At the end was a pair of elevators. Both opened at the same time. Luke stepped into the one on the right with Clive, Weaver, and Kate. Red Hat and the others went to the left. Looking at the wall, Luke could see there were no call buttons. The doors closed, and the elevator began to rise. Clive moved close to him. “You know, brother, not everyone is happy here.”
Luke nodded. “I can imagine.”
Clive moved toward the wall and turned so that his head was away from a corner camera. “We signed up to survive World War Three, not World War whatever this shit is. If things are that bad out there, I’d rather get out and find my family.”
Seeing that the man was sincere, Luke turned away from the camera. “Things are that bad out there, and a lot more are going to die.”
“What can we do?” Clive said.
“We need to stop the broadcast.”
Clive smiled. “I don’t know anything about that broadcast, but you take me with you. I can get you onto the main floor. The first deck,” he said, pinching his key card. “There’s lots of computers and shit up there. During training they said that’s where all the messages would come in and out to the facility; where they would give instructions to people.”
Before Luke could answer, the elevator stopped and the doors opened. They stepped out and were at another long corridor. The walls and floor were made of poured concrete and painted white. Red Hat barked at them and pushed them ahead, into a large storage room filled with lockers and large black storage bins. He pointed. “All your crap is in there. Your weapons too, but we got your ammo. We’ll give you that back when you leave the seal.”
The team checked the bins, and just as they were told, they found all their equipment. Luke grabbed his police tactical vest and dropped it on. The others strapped into their body armor and put on their packs. All the while, Red Hat barked at them to hurry up.
“Where next, tough guy?” Luke asked.
The man stepped into Luke’s face and scowled. “Air lock. We got about a twenty-minute wait for the doors to open and get you all topside.”
“What if I have to piss?” Weaver said.
Red Hat spun. “Then you better hold it. Now move, I’m tired of you already. Can’t wait to get you out of here.”
When they stepped back into the hallway, Whitaker was there. She called Red Hat by name then pointed to Luke. “Carl, I need to speak to him again.”
“But ma’am, the director said—”
“It’s fine, Carl,” she said, this time with less patience in her voice.
Luke smiled. “It’s fine, Carl. Damn, he just got punked.”
Carl shook his head and stepped away, surveying the space. “Hey! Where the hell did Clive go? That kid is always running off.” He looked at his watch and cursed, bunching the soldiers and Kate together. Tapping his watch impatiently, he looked at Whittaker.
She walked Luke a short distance down the corridor then stood with her back to the security guard. “We’ve heard rumors about what is going on, but nobody wanted to believe it. Even Collingsworth doesn’t know the extent of what’s happening out there. We’re in the dark also… the clicks and beeps, as you said. If people were alive, we should be able to talk to them, to doctors in other bunkers. We should able to call others for assistance, even pick up outside news stations. Everything went dark, just like you described. The director said it was part of the protocol, but it’s never been part of the training.”
“Help me shut it down,” Luke said.
She shook her head. “Some people in the science lab have been working on something, but we have no way to run it. The lab isn’t connected to the larger network.” She reached out a hand as if to shake. When Luke returned the gesture, he felt her pass a tiny thumb drive. “Get it into any of the main subsystems, and it’ll do the work.”
Luke rubbed his chin and nodded. “What’s going to happen?”
“It’ll start an internal clock. You will have ten minutes, and the mainframe will reboot. When it comes back online, the broadcast code will be corrupted. The interference program won’t restart with the rest of the systems.”
“And doctors did all of this?”
She smiled. “No, our IT guy helped design many of these systems, including the President’s broadcast; he knows how to break them. One more thing, when the mainframe cycles, everything will go dark. You have to be out before they come back up.”
“How long to wake up?”
“Just a few minutes,” she said. “Sorry we can’t help more.”
He slipped the drive into his front pocket. “We’ll try and get it done.”
“Luke, don’t kill anyone… they don’t know,” she said then turned and walked away from the group.
Red Hat was on him before he could respond. “Let’s go, we’re way behind schedule.”
Following the man’s instructions, he fell back into line with the group and marched down the long hallway. At the end was another set of double doors. Above them were enclosed light bulbs of yellow, green, and red. The first guard opened the door as Red Hat pushed them through. This time, instead of an elevator, they turned and walked up the left side of a ramp made of poured concrete. The walls were lined with more of the enclosed light bulbs. On the other side, they could see workers moving back and forth while, down the middle, golf carts drove past.
Luke could see large numbers painted over doorways. The one they’d just left was 3, and they were headed toward 2. Each door had a card reader like the ones they’d seen outside. He increased his pace so that he was next to Weaver. “We can do this, but it has to be done before they get us outside.”
“You have a plan?”
Luke shook his head. “No.”
Weaver pointed at the end of the ramp. There was a large vault door. Just to the left of it was an entry door with the stenciled number 1 over it. “I think we’re running out of time.”
Chapter Twenty-Three
Day of Infection, Plus Twenty
Mount Weather Emergency Control Center, Virginia
They were lined up against the wall while the enclosed bulbs flashed yellow. Red Hat kept checking his watch. Looking at the vault, Luke watched the twenty-five-ton blast door set on pneumatic hinges move fractions of an inch at a time. The level-one door was just across from them, but in between was Red Hat and his guard force, which had now doubled.
An electric golf cart sped up the ramp, bright lights flashing as it approached. Red Hat turned and looked toward it. “Who the hell is that? Nobody is supposed to be out of their assigned areas when the seal is breaking.” He pointed to the flashing yellow lights. “Are they color blind or just stupid?”
The cart stopped just feet away, and two men got off, leaving the bright headlights of the cart still lit. A large black man in a security uniform stepped from the driver’s seat and walked around the back then dragged another man from the cart on the passenger side. Red Hat took a step closer and said, “Richardson, is that you? What the hell are you doing on the day shift?”
“Found this fool for you,” the man said, pushing Clive forward. “He was trying to sneak back into the barracks.”
Carl shook his head. “Where in the hell did you run off to this time? You know the director is going to fire you for this. You’ll be working in the kitchen for the next fifty years,” he said, laughing.
Clive raised his hands in surrender. Red Hat moved in closer, sneering at him and still making his threats. As Clive’s hands came back down, he threw a right hook that caught Carl on the jaw, knocking the man out. The other guards reached for their tasers, but before they could, the big man, Richardson, pulled an M9 service pistol and had it pointed at them. “Don’t make me kill you fellas. We just want to leave with these gentlemen. None of you all need to get hurt.”
The guards raised their hands and Clive ran at them, slapping on cuffs and turning them to face the wall. The big man moved back to the cart and killed the lights. He reached inside and pulled out a large canvas bag then tossed it to Weaver. “Ammo is inside. Best you all get loaded up. This won’t go unnoticed.”
Weaver nodded and accepted the bag, unzipping it. The pack was full of loaded magazines. He took a stack and loaded up his vest before passing it to the others. Luke walked past them and stopped at Clive, pointing at the large, stenciled number 1 over the small steel door. “Can you still get me inside?”
Shrugging, Clive said, “Sure, but like I told you, I don’t know anything about those systems. Unless you know what you’re doing, I don’t see how it’ll help.”
Luke pointed at the vault. “Do you know anything about that? How much longer before it’s open?”
Clive turned and looked at a control panel and a meter next to it. Like a gauge, it showed minutes on the bottom and inches and feet on the top. “Enough to get a man through in about eight minutes, a truck in fifteen.”
“A man will do.” Luke turned toward the first-deck door. Weaver handed him a stack of large magazines for his AR-10 rifle. Luke took them and dropped three into the front pouches on his vest, and another two on each side. He looked at the big man. “Richardson, is it?”
“That’s right.”
“What will their response be? Someone has to be coming.”
“Yes, sir, SWAT is probably dressing right now. Then they’ll be rolling up this ramp. Whether they shoot or ask questions will be up to the director.”
Luke turned to Weaver. “Hold the line here. But try not to kill anyone if we don’t have to.”
Weaver dipped his chin and pointed to the entry door. “You get that done, and I’ll take care of this.”
Clive moved around the pair to the card reader and swiped his badge. After entering a series of numbers into the door’s keypad, the door clicked open. He pulled the door back then snapped an arm at the top, sticking it into the open position. “Those guys will get wise and lock everything down soon; we don’t want to be sealed in when they do,” Clive said, looking at Luke.
“What about the vault?” Luke asked.
Clive shook his head. “Nope—only
thing that can stop that door from opening are these controls or the power going out.”
“Any other way outside?” Weaver said.
Clive pointed back into the facility. “There is another door at the back of the complex, but if they hadn’t already started the opening sequence we’ll be out before they are.”
Luke took a breath and waved his hand into the first deck. “Lead the way then.”
Clive drew his own service pistol then stepped inside. They were moving fast down a narrow hallway. Like the others, this one was sterile, with white walls and smooth concrete floors, no photos or framed pictures. There were doors every few feet with placards over them. Several were empty, as if the spaces were waiting to be occupied. “Where are all the people?” Luke asked.
Clive shook his head and turned a corner in the hallway. “Protocol. When the seal is opening, you are supposed to stay at your desk or in your quarters.” He took several more steps then stopped again. He put his hand on a door and looked back at Luke. “The IT guys and network people for the facility all work in here. I’ll distract them while you do what you need to.” Clive put his shoulder to the door, ready to rush in. “You ready for this?”
“I’m good,” Luke answered.
Clive shoved the door open and rushed inside, yelling. Luke wasn’t prepared for the outburst; the guard was screaming that they were under attack and telling the workers to move to the back of the room, that he would protect them. People fled workspaces. Some cowered and others tripped and fell as Clive ran at each of them, screaming for them to move. Clive ran halfway down the room then took a knee, with his pistol aimed back at the door.
Stunned, Luke stood in the doorway for a second before stepping inside, where a dozen workers cowered at a back wall of the large computer lab. Clive was still screaming at them to cover their heads and look away. Stifling a grin, Luke began moving through workspaces, trying to find one that looked important. He finally stopped at a long, U-shaped desk with a number of monitors that mirrored the console in the building outside. He searched for a place to insert the drive, finding a slot at the edge of a keyboard. Once the drive was inserted, a box popped up on the center monitor and just as quickly vanished. He looked at the desk and moved a stack of papers to cover the inserted thumb drive, then back at the monitor.