by Hinze, Vicki
“Not a one.”
“Well done, John Taylor.” The tunnel split. Emma veered left. “I’m on my way now. Make sure no one gets anywhere near the charge or the body.”
“It’s taped off and I’ve got men standing guard on both locations.”
“The fatality,” she said, gripping the wheel. “You’re sure he was alone? No doubt, right?”
“Yeah, he was alone.” John Taylor cleared his throat. “I think he was one of the five backup team. We know the other four got away. At least, from the facility. I’m monitoring the locals and their APB is out on the van. The police chief knows what’s up, and they’re all over it. Well, as much as they can be with Holly raging out there.”
Blasted storm was making a difficult task even harder. “Is the storm still parked over us, or what?”
“Pretty much stalled out, according to Darcy Keller.”
Not the news Emma wanted to hear. “Be there shortly. Keep a sharp watch.”
“You, too, Emma. Chief out.”
She drove as fast as she dared, seeing nothing and no one else. When she neared the segment of tunnel leading to the rear wall chamber, she slowed down and phoned Liz, filled her in on developments, then ended with, “Get headquarters on this power outage, Liz. Fast. Or we could be facing a national nightmare the likes of which this country has never seen.”
* * *
Emma photographed the dead man by flashlight. Dressed like the others, he was just as well-equipped as they had been and just as indistinguishable. He could be from anywhere, really. That was the thing with CAR. The organization didn’t care who it dealt with or where they were from so long as their eyes were on the bottom line. There was no ideology or national interest involved, only money. The more of it, the better. Greed never shone more brightly or revealed more ugliness.
She forwarded the man’s photo to Liz with photos of the charge. He hadn’t gotten very far on the charge before he’d been interrupted. She disposed of the problem with little effort, then secured the explosives and went in search of John Taylor.
Emma found him at the lab’s rear wall. He stood, hands on hips, watching the crew stretch and duct tape black tarps over the area with the sealed cracks.
Emma joined him. “Hey.”
“You gather the evidence you need in the tunnel?” John Taylor kept his gaze on the work being done by the crew. “Get the device disassembled?”
“Yes, on both. All safe and secure. Your men can remove the body.” No doubt he’d put it in the storage area where the others had been placed. Only Greer had been in a different location. Emma understood the respect being shown to Greer in keeping his body separate from those of the thugs. After the storm, when the coroner could get in to retrieve the bodies, he would understand, too.
John Taylor made a call on his radio and ordered the body moved.
The crew had set up battery-powered lights in the opening between the lab’s rear wall and the jagged hole open to the outside. It was cooler, of course, but the area didn’t look that much different than it had when the power was on. “Are there more of these lights? Might come in handy upstairs.”
John Taylor spoke to a member of a second construction crew above. He too had a radio and put out a call.
When John Taylor walked back to Emma, he said, “They’re putting them in place now. Maybe that will calm down Janette and get her off my back for more than five minutes.”
Emma nodded, though they both doubted anything could keep Janette off his back right now. Her plan to snatch her boss’s job had hit a few unexpected snags. She was in deep, doing damage control and seeking something to salvage that promotion. It wasn’t happening. Her people didn’t trust her. Trust was key to passenger and facility protection. If Emma had to intercede, she would. Honestly, it shouldn’t come to that. “The tarps will help keep moisture out,” Emma said. “That’s good.”
“Praying it keeps germs in, too. If it holds, with a little luck, this whole area won’t be contaminated.” He slid her a worried look. “If it is, it will spread, Emma. No two ways about it.”
It would, and that would be devastating. “You realize the air isn’t being cleaned in the HC lab.” When John Taylor nodded, she added, “Mason might have some good advice for us.” Emma pulled out her radio and called him, told him about the tarps, and verified the air still wasn’t being cleaned.
“That’s right, it’s not,” he said. “Without power, the temperature will rise quickly, and the pathogens will be active.”
“Kill them now, then.” Emma lifted a hand. “You’ve got the equipment.” He had used it earlier to kill the pathogens outside the freezer and the damaged vial in the HC’s inner hub.
“I can’t,” Mason said. “I have the equipment, but I don’t have the ability to use it.”
“You need power to do it.” Emma’s stomach fluttered. Of course, he did.
“Yes.” He confirmed it. “The rear wall is most vulnerable.” Mason mentally worked through it, then continued. “The freezers will hold for at least eight hours, provided that wall doesn’t heat up.”
Emma thought about it. “We can ice the freezers.”
“No, you can’t,” he said. “First, you’d have to reveal the lab is here and what’s in it. Secondly, the melting ice would be contaminated, and we can’t seal it in the lab. If we open the lab to the traffic required to pack it, we won’t have eight hours. Off the top of my head, I’d say three hours, max. We can’t lose that much time.”
Emma regrouped, realigned her thinking. “What about icing the outer rear wall? We can cool it down. The cracks have been sealed and the crew’s putting tarps up now.”
“Affixed with?”
“Duct tape.” Her mother used to insist duct tape was as essential in every home as a skillet. Emma prayed that was so and not a tale. There had been many occasions growing up when it had been used and had made all the difference. “Will packing the wall help? Heaven knows, we’ve got plenty of snow and ice outside.” If it melted, and there was no leak, it’d cause no harm.
“Actually, that’s a good idea.”
Motivated by good news, Emma almost smiled. Almost. “The construction crew guarding the area will help. If they can get to the heavy equipment, it can be done rapidly, too.”
“The sooner the better. While the lab is still cold.” Mason sounded more hopeful. “But whatever is done, do not break the seal into the HC, Emma.”
What was in those freezers could wipe out the people in the facility in hours, the state in days, and within two weeks, the entire country. “I understand.”
“David!” Sophia shouted out. “David, do you hear me?”
Emma stilled. “What’s going on? Is it Olivia? Is she getting worse?”
“I’m not sure,” Mason said. “Hold on.”
David’s background voice carried over the radio. “Sophia, what’s going on?”
“It’s Olivia. David, it’s Olivia!”
“What about her, Sophia?” Mason called out.
Emma held her breath. Tensed all over. Sophia sounded frantic. Excited. Ecstatic. But she did not sound desperate or devastated. Emma dared to hope, prodded Mason. “Is she—”
“Hold on, Emma,” he said again. “I don’t know yet…”
The revelation burst from Sophia. “Her fever broke!”
Oh, that had to be good news. Didn’t that have to be good news? “Does this mean—” Emma started.
Mason laughed. “It’s the best of signs. The antidote is killing the pathogen.”
“She is going to be all right.” Tears welled in Emma’s eyes. She blinked hard and swallowed a lump that hung in her throat. “That's what it means, right?”
“I suspect that’s exactly what it means,” Mason sounded thrilled. “I’m seeking confirmation from Dr. Cramer. Hang tight.”
A long, tense minute passed. Then another. Finally, Mason came back to the radio. “Dr. Cramer confirmed it. She’s going to make it, Emma.” Mason was so happ
y, his buoyant voice filled with laughter and heartfelt relief. “Olivia is going to live!”
“That’s wonderful news. The best news ever.” Emma slumped, then laughed. “John Taylor,” she shouted out. “She’s going to live!”
Word spread quickly among the men. Spontaneous cheers, back-slapping and laughter erupted in the construction crew. To a man, they knew exactly what this meant. They too would survive. John Taylor would survive to continue to protect his daughter.
Emma too would survive.
It had been abundantly clear. If one of them died, likely all of them would, and they had known it from the start. Elated they all would live, Emma smiled into the radio. “Mason, do you hear that?”
“I do.”
Emma dragged her teeth over her lower lip. “I wish I could see Jacob’s face right now.” That she had upset him earlier had been preying on her ever since.
“He’s wondering what all the hoopla is about. Olivia said she wasn’t dying today. In his eyes, that was the final authority on the matter. So, why’s everybody surprised? She said she would live and she did.” Mason chuckled.
Emma loved Jacob’s matter-of-fact faith and innocence. Her lips curved into a smile when what she really wanted to do was weep her relief. “You know, Mason, sometimes life is so good.”
“It is,” he agreed. “Though I have to say, you’re a strange woman, to be in your current position and saying that, Emma.”
“Not strange at all.”
Mason dropped his voice low. “I love how your mind works.”
“Yeah, it’s a real wonder.”
To the sounds of his laughter, she shut down the radio.
Chapter Twenty-One
Tuesday, December 18th
1122 (11:22 AM)
Even with heavy equipment, it took hours to get the snowpack in place against the rear wall. When it was done, the crew looked ready to fall over. They’d been without rest for nearly forty-eight hours, and under extreme duress. Signs of exhaustion were all over them.
John Taylor met up with Emma near the mouth of the tunnel. “Power is down for the duration of the storm.” He spoke softly. “As soon as visibility improves, they’ll begin clearing the roads and get backup established. It’s first priority.”
“Is there good news on the storm front?” Emma asked.
“There is. Holly isn’t parked on our heads anymore. Slow, but it is finally moving again.”
“Thank heaven for that.” Emma couldn’t wait for this storm to move on.
Two carts drove toward them. When they stopped, a woman about forty wearing a smudged apron got out and walked over to John Taylor. “Hey,” she said. “We figured you guys had to be half-starved. It’s just pizza, but it’ll fill stomachs.”
Thanks, Sam,” John Taylor told the woman. Her uniform looked about as tired as Emma’s dusty clothes, but Sam had a spring in her step. “We’ve been going at it making as many of these as we can. We weren’t stocked to feed this many people, but we’re all making do, trying our best.”
“We all appreciate your efforts, Sam,” he said. “I know the guys will really be happy.”
She motioned to two women sitting in the carts to deliver the pizza, then focused on Emma. “You did a good job above with the people, getting the medicine for the child.”
“Thank you.” Emma turned the topic. “This was thoughtful of you and your people, Sam, to bring food down to the guys. I know they’re hungry.”
“We have to look out for each other as best we can. In trying times, people have to stick together, you know?”
Emma smiled. “I do.”
“We heard about the little girl on the way down. That she’s going to be okay.” Sam looked relieved. “Glad to hear that.”
“We’re hopeful,” Emma said. “Her fever has broken, and they say that’s a great sign.”
“Lucky that doctor was here, and he had antibiotics.”
“Yes, we sure were.” Emma was being pumped for information for the gossip mill but sensed no ill will in it. She borrowed a phrase from Olivia. “It’s a Christmas miracle.”
“Rates as one in my book.” Sam turned and headed back to the cart. “A little good news lifts everyone’s heart.”
“Couldn’t agree more.” Emma smiled at her and added a wave.
John Taylor waited until Sam was out of earshot. “Claire, the woman who wouldn’t share her antibiotics, isn’t faring too well.”
Emma slid her focus to John Taylor. “What’s wrong with her?”
“No one will sell her food or anything to drink.”
“Because she wouldn’t share her medicine?”
John Taylor nodded. “My guys asked if they should take her something.”
Emma sent him a curious look. “What did you tell them?”
“To give the woman food and drink.” He shrugged. “She’s recovering from surgery, and… It’s just the right thing to do.”
“It is the right thing to do, John Taylor.”
“I was a little worried you wouldn’t approve.”
“No, I think you did exactly the right thing. We have to treat others as we would want them to treat us, not as they do. Be a good example. My mother used to say, you can’t control how others behave, but you do control how you behave. Both of you must answer for your behavior.”
“Our folks went to the same school.” John Taylor laughed. “You never let anyone go hungry if you can help it.” He gazed off. “When my daughter was missing, a stranger helped her. I’ll never forget it.”
So, he helped others to repay the kindness done to help his daughter. That moved Emma. She swallowed a lump rising in her throat. “She’s a lucky girl. And so are those you help, John Taylor.” Emma cleared her throat. “I think your folks would be really proud of the man you’ve become.” Emma pointed to the ice-packed wall. “Keep that frozen as best you can.”
“Yes, ma’am. We’re on it.”
Emma glanced at the guys kicking back drinks and pizza. Talking, laughing. It was a beautiful thing. They’d come down here in an act of courage, bent on doing all they could to save the lives of others. To spare their families, if they could. And they’d done it knowing they could be called on to make the ultimate sacrifice. They were heroes. One and all. Heroes.
Emma climbed into the cart, tired but hopeful, seeing the good in a lot of people, and feeling a lot better about their situation than she had hours earlier. If the seals held and the pathogens stayed put in the freezers and they remained inactive, they all might just survive Holly.
She drove back to the lab and, in the outer ring, hung her rifle on the hook, then went straight to the monitors. Still in bed, Olivia looked weak, and Emma supposed she was, but her color was already better, and Jacob was dangling Bandit by a paw.
That was the best sign that things were improving. He wasn’t clutching Bandit to his throat with his face buried in the pup’s scruff.
Mason came down the hall. On seeing her, he smiled. “You’re back. How did the snowpack work out?”
“Good, so far. Is it helping in here?”
He checked the monitors, then a thermostat. “We’re still below freezing, so I’d say, yes. If we don’t have to go in before power returns, with what you’ve done, we should be okay.”
“The guys have done the work.” Relief settled her stomach. “Do we need to ice the front wall, too?” she asked. It would expose the lab, but exposure beat the socks off being dead to avoid exposure.
“Not now,” Mason said. “For now, we’re good. We’ll watch it. If we see the temperature rising, we’ll reconsider.”
“Works for me.” With just David and Mason and her, and maybe John Taylor, hauling the ice from the tunnel to the inner front wall, it’d be a major job, especially without the benefit of heavy equipment.
“Where’s Dr. Cramer?” He wasn’t in the quarantine room. She scanned but saw no signs of him on any of the monitors.
Mason frowned. “I’m not sure. He was here ju
st a minute ago.”
Emma checked the monitors again. Cramer wasn’t anywhere in the lab. “He’s gone,” she said, then looked over at Mason. “Did he take the antidote with him?”
“No. It’s locked in the fridge,” Mason assured her. “I put it in there myself.” He passed her a fresh flashlight. “Maybe he went upstairs to get something to eat. He’s not fond of spaghetti. That and scrambled eggs is about all I’m good at. I made more spaghetti.”
“With Sophia’s sauce?” Emma asked. The rich smell of it wafted down the hall.
“It’s the best.” Mason smiled. “I’m starved.”
Emma’s stomach had been growling for hours. “I need fuel, too.”
“Then, let’s eat.” He started toward the kitchen.
“I’ll be right there.” Emma swiped her hair back from her face. She’d give her front teeth for a hot shower. And toss in two molars for a shampoo. But power was required for that, too. “I need to report in first.”
* * *
Emma stood just beyond the outer door of the lab and phoned Liz.
“Good timing. I was about to call you,” Liz said. “We just heard from headquarters and they’ve verified the identity of the man in the last photo you sent—the invader John Taylor took out who was trying to set off another blast. He’s directly connected to CAR. His name wasn’t released to us, but headquarters did confirm the connection. The think tank there is confident this attack isn’t terror-related, so to speak, but is CAR trying to get its hands on the pathogen to sell on the black-market.”
Expected. But confirmation was good news. The invaders’ intent wasn’t to infect people in a mass incident attack. The bad news? They wanted to steal the pathogen so others who would infect people in a mass incident attack could. Greedy thugs. “We knew it. With CAR, it’s always about the money.”
“Exactly,” Liz agreed. “But we got a break there, so I’m grateful for it. And they didn’t get the pathogen, and I’m really grateful for that.”
“True on both counts.” Emma leaned back against the lab door.
