Larsen removed some of the slack in his trigger, the barrel aimed at Peck’s head. This would go down at any moment.
Chapter 39
Chang backed away from the safe-room door despite the fact that nothing could possibly hurt him from the inside. He knew this logically, but the scene unfolding inside defied logic, and it didn’t look like he’d get a chance to process it. The maniac called Peck seemed hell-bent on immediate violence. He considered saying something to Larsen, who seemed reasonable enough, if not a bit conflicted, but decided against it. His words echoing through the room would only serve as a distraction from a peaceful result. This Peck guy was beyond reason.
He bumped into the wall behind him, startled by its sudden intrusion, but never taking his eyes off the tablet screen. With three weapons pointed in Peck’s face, he felt sure the standoff was over. No sensible person would try to buck those odds. It was suicide. Pure and simple. What Peck said next froze Chang in place. Something about the statement was final.
“The other team leaders were right about you.”
And that was it. Metallic bangs and muffled screams sounded beyond the door as his tablet’s speaker transmitted automatic gunfire and yelling. He watched in horror, his view briefly obscured by the smoke from their weapons. When the thin haze cleared, he took a quick breath. All four members of the team lay on the blood-splattered concrete floor. He could barely believe what he was seeing. His eyes focused on the digital tablet next to Larsen, not that it really mattered anymore. Chang believed the man had fully committed to disobeying his orders. He could tell by the exchange in the room. They’d been duped on some level. Even Peck had expressed disbelief.
He watched his tablet for a few more seconds, looking for signs of life, but nobody moved or made a sound. What a miserable waste. There was no point to opening the door. He had everything he needed now, including the knowledge that some faction of the government wanted him dead. Stan Greenberg had been right. He was about to shut down the tablet when Larsen moved. The man pushed himself up with one arm and rolled over onto his back, surveying the room and shaking his head.
Chang activated the lights inside the safe-room and opened the door. He peeked around the corner, exposing as little of his head as possible.
“Dr. Chang?” he heard, the voice sounding like Larsen.
“Yes,” he said, not sure what else to say.
“I need some help. It’s Larsen.”
“Is anyone else alive?” said Chang.
“Peck’s dead. No doubt about that. Dixon is gone. Brennan—I don’t know about Brennan,” he said.
Chang stepped inside the room, the sharp odor of gunfire barely covering the smell of blood. He actually had no idea what either smelled like, but could differentiate between two smells he’d never experienced before—neither of them good. Peck lay in front of the door, knocked back by multiple gunshots. His helmet lay upside down in the corner of the room under the camera, a trail of brains and blood extending from his head to the helmet. The top of Peck’s head was gone, exposing a bright red mess. Chang fought against a strong gag reflex, forcing himself to look at the ceiling, which was splattered with blood.
“Jesus,” he gasped, closing his eyes.
“Take shallow breaths,” said Larsen. “You’ll be fine. Look at the back of the room, past my voice. Just walk to me.”
He lowered his field of vision to Larsen, who sat up, covered in blood.
“Are you hit?” said Chang.
“Multiple times,” said Larsen. “Right in my chest plate. I probably have a broken rib or two, but I’m fine.”
Chang’s eyes started to drift downward.
“Look at me, Gene. Only me,” said Larsen. “Let’s move Brennan out of here. She still has a pulse.”
He nodded, taking short breaths and moving forward. When he reached Larsen, the soldier, or whatever he was, extended a bloodied hand.
“Help me up. I feel like I’ve been hit by a truck,” said Larsen.
Chang took his sticky hand and pulled him to his feet. Larsen leaned over and grabbed the blood-smeared tablet.
“I need you to see this,” said Larsen, navigating to the MISSION tab.
He toggled between the two sets of orders, leaving the screen on the CAPTURE/KILL update. A pop-up box next to the update stated: ACKNOWLEDGE UPDATE IMMEDIATELY. Larsen hadn’t acknowledged the order yet.
“I don’t know what the hell this is, or why my command structure would think I’d comply with the order,” said Larsen, straightening himself out. “You never really answered my question earlier.”
Chang knew what he was talking about. “You never really asked the right question.”
Larsen grinned, nodding. “Why do they want you dead?”
“Because I know what’s happening out there, and I’m in contact with similarly qualified experts who are convinced our government is behind it.”
“The bioweapons attacks?” said Larsen. “Why would the government be behind it?”
Chang shook his head. “I don’t know, but this is too coordinated and widespread to be anything short of an inside job. At the very least, it’s a sophisticated, state-sponsored attack. It’s too big for a few decentralized terrorist cells.”
The woman behind Larsen groaned but remained unconscious. Larsen kneeled next to her, searching for the wound. His hands stopped at her right pelvis, pulling back the bottom of her camouflage jacket to reveal a small hole in her pants, which was swamped with a dark red stain. A wide, thick pool of blood spread around her in a circle. “She’s bleeding internally,” said Larsen, muttering a few curses under his breath before continuing. “Judging by the blood loss, it’s arterial. She’s done unless we can get her to a level one trauma center shortly.”
“We could drive her to a hospital. Saint Vincent’s has a level one trauma center,” said Chang.
Larsen removed one of his gloves and reached inside the collar of her tactical vest. He took his hand out after several seconds.
“Her pulse is extremely faint,” said Larsen. “She’s gone.”
Chang refrained from agreeing. He had no experience in the matter and didn’t feel it was appropriate to condemn one of Larsen’s colleagues to death. His eyes darted to Dixon, curiosity getting the best of him. It wasn’t as bad as he thought it would be, but the image would likely never go away. Two tightly spaced, small red dots were visible on his upper right cheek under his eye. He glanced away, trying unsuccessfully not to imagine the damage done beyond those tiny holes. Peck’s fate left little to his imagination.
“Is there a way to make sure she remains comfortable if she wakes up?” said Chang. “Morphine or something?”
“I’ll take care of it,” said Larsen. “Let’s meet outside in a minute or so.”
Chang left him alone to take care of his dying team member. He sat against the wall directly outside the safe room, trying not to glance inside. Peck’s vacated skull was partially visible on the ground. He scooted to the right until it was no longer visible. When Larsen emerged, he carried two rifles, a night-vision-equipped helmet and a headset with a handheld radio. He kneeled next to Chang and placed the helmet next to him before removing several rifle magazines from his cargo pockets.
“We’ll get this comms rig and helmet fitted right; then I’ll show you the basics for the rifle,” said Larsen.
“I don’t like firearms.”
“If we’re going to survive, you need to know how to use this,” said Larsen, with a sympathetic face. “No two ways about it.”
Chang wasn’t about to argue. The worst had been confirmed, and he wasn’t about to go down without some kind of fight. Not after two of Larsen’s colleagues had taken a deadly stand on his behalf. Plus, he might have more to offer the fight ahead than he’d originally thought. Greenberg seemed to think so. He’d do his best to enlist Larsen into the fight. At this point, Larsen didn’t appear to have a better option. He certainly couldn’t follow whatever protocol he’d arrived here thinking would protect
either of them. Larsen was as much a lone wolf as Chang now. He took the rifle and slung it around his shoulder before stuffing a few of the magazines in his pockets.
“I’ve only fired a rifle once in my life, and I think it was a .22. One of the camps my parents took me to,” said Chang.
“We’ll get you better acquainted with the rifle later,” said Larsen. “I want to get moving as fast as possible. Three other teams jumped into the area. I have no idea what happens if I don’t acknowledge my new orders. Worst-case scenario, headquarters assumes I went rogue and hunts us down.”
“What’s the best-case scenario?”
“They assume my team was taken out before we could acknowledge the orders—and hunt us down,” said Larsen. “We need to get as far from here as possible. The 4Runner looked fully stocked with the kind of gear we could use.”
“We can’t go north,” said Chang.
“What?” said Larsen.
“10th Mountain Division has roadblocks set up a few miles north of here, along Route 32,” said Chang. “Part of the Indianapolis quarantine zone. I don’t think we’ll have much luck trying to drive out of here.”
“Indianapolis is under quarantine?” said Larsen. “From the bioweapons attack?”
“That’s what everyone is being told,” said Chang. “I’ve heard firsthand that things are out of control in the city. Thousands are infected with a virus I’ve spent the past several years trying to thwart.”
“Jesus,” said Larsen. “How widespread is this?”
“I could show you if we had some time. Explain the whole thing,” said Chang.
Larsen hesitated. “I think our best course of action is to get clear of the house.”
“Because of the other teams?” said Chang, and Larsen nodded.
“What happens if you acknowledge your orders now and say I’m not here?” said Chang.
“I’ve already delayed responding for too long,” said Larsen.
“Make something up,” said Chang. “Do they have any reason to doubt your report?”
“Maybe. Maybe not,” said Larsen. “Frankly, I have no idea who I really work for anymore.”
“How long would it take the reserve team to get here?” said Chang.
“It depends where the reserve team was dropped,” said Larsen. “If headquarters wanted them here quickly, they’d commandeer a vehicle.”
“My assumption is that they’ll drive to the front gate and proceed on foot, or pick a point along the perimeter and do the same. Correct?”
“That’s how I’d do it,” said Larsen.
“Then we’ll have plenty of warning,” said Chang. “I have sensors everywhere, extending from the perimeter to the house. That’s how I knew you arrived by parachute.”
Larsen pulled the tablet from the pouch attached to the side of his vest and gave it a long look.
“I guess there’s no harm in trying,” said Larsen before pressing the touchscreen several times. “Done.”
“Do they give you any indication of what’s going to happen?” said Chang.
“Not usually. Information sharing is sparse at best,” said Larsen, turning the tablet so Chang could see it. “Case in point.”
Chang read the response line. OBSERVE ALL APPROACHES TO HOUSE AND AWAIT FURTHER INSTRUCTIONS.
“That’s it?”
“That’s headquarters getting chatty,” said Larsen. “What do you have to show me?”
“In my office,” said Chang, motioning for him to follow.
Chapter 40
Larsen stood next to Chang, with his arms folded, studying the map laid out on a spacious desk. The scale of what the map represented was mind-boggling. Twenty-six cities had been affected, if Chang was right—or he wasn’t lying about everything. Larsen had no way to prove Chang right or wrong. He was essentially cut off from the outside world; his only method of communication limited to a useless tablet.
Fortunately, Colorado Springs was not on Chang’s list of doomed cities. He had no way to warn his wife. All cellular and Internet service to the greater Indianapolis area had apparently been severed. Or had it? Chang’s cell phone indicated NO SERVICE, but the house was in an isolated area. Cutting the Internet to the house was as simple as disconnecting a wire.
“How sure are you that this is confined to Denver?” said Larsen. “My family is in Colorado Springs.”
“I can’t say one hundred percent,” said Chang. “The Midwest cluster appeared first, followed by the major cities. Almost like two waves spaced closely together, but far enough apart to allow the virus to fester in the smaller cities for a few days before widespread news coverage was unavoidable. It’s a lot easier to shut down coverage of Indianapolis than Chicago or Los Angeles. It’s also far easier to infect a larger percentage of a smaller city’s overall population. The attacks in the major cities seem to have hit densely packed areas, which will produce similar casualty numbers, but not affect the entire city. Initially. That said, unless there’s a third wave of attacks targeting smaller cities, Colorado Springs should be safe.”
“Won’t the virus spread?” said Larsen.
“It shouldn’t. Used as a bioweapon, the virus in question would theoretically be distributed in the water supply or by some kind of similarly widespread transmission method. We’re talking a variation of the herpes simplex virus, which can be highly contagious in extremely close contact, but doesn’t spread like influenza. The affected area would remain limited to the reach of the distribution system. Colorado is far enough away from Denver that your wife should be safe.”
“You keep using the word should,” said Larsen.
“Once again, I can’t be one hundred percent certain. I got a close look at the virus in question at my laboratory, but I didn’t have the time to study its genetic modifications. If one of those modifications changed its contagiousness markers—all bets are off. But even then it would be a very slow burn, like a flu outbreak. The real danger with this virus will come from the infected themselves.”
He didn’t like the sound of that at all.
“What exactly does this virus do?” said Larsen. “In plain English.”
“It exploits an extremely rare and devastating aspect of a normally harmless virus,” said Chang. “Nearly everyone infected with this modified strain of herpes simplex will develop herpes simplex encephalitis, a merciless and unpredictable infection affecting the central nervous system.”
“Can it be treated?”
“Yes. Immediate treatment with high-dose, intravenously administered antivirals has shown some promise, but it’s still fatal in close to thirty percent of treated cases.”
“Intravenous treatment? That’s not likely to be available on even the smallest scale.”
“Right. And treatment needs to commence very early, or the death rate is close to seventy percent. And that’s not the worst part.”
“I can’t see how it gets worse?”
“It’s really the perfect bioweapon,” said Chang. “And I don’t say that with a shred of admiration. It’s perfect because the survivors don’t really survive. The infection destroys the temporal lobe, causing permanent, crippling neurological damage. Of course, that doesn’t happen immediately. The victim will suffer from a progressively worsening spectrum of cognitive and behavioral decline. Violence and lack of impulse control is common in untreated and treated patients. Imagine an entire city population infected by this. Thousands of citizens becoming violent at once.”
Larsen stared at the map, trying to make sense of what Chang had just said. It didn’t take him long to conclude that there was no sense to be made of it. The United States faced an unmitigated disaster.
“I don’t see how the government could effectively respond to this,” said Larsen.
“The real question is how does the government humanely engage and manage tens of thousands of irreversibly brain damaged and potentially violent citizens packed into one tight geographic area?”
“They can’t,” sa
id Larsen, shaking his head.
“That’s exactly why this is the perfect bioweapon. There’s no way to do it without taking draconian measures,” said Chang. “It’s why I’ve spent the past six years trying to come up with a way to prevent it. We were getting very close at NevoTech. I can’t help think that the timing of this attack is related.”
“You were on the verge of creating a vaccine against this?”
“We were in phase two trials,” said Chang. “It looked very promising.”
“And your vaccine would have prevented this bioweapons attack?” said Larsen.
“It was an oral preventative treatment for herpes simplex one and two, which would double as a preventative measure against a herpes simplex-based bioweapon.”
Larsen’s mind immediately flashed to his family and the possibility of vaccinating them against this madness.
“This has been tested?” said Larsen.
Chang nodded slowly, hesitating to answer.
“You took some with you when you left the lab,” said Larsen, “didn’t you?”
“Yes.”
“And the data on this virus?”
“No. I couldn’t risk smuggling the data out. It’s stashed in the lab,” said Chang.
“And you think our government is behind all of this?” said Larsen.
“It makes sense on too many levels to dismiss at this point,” said Chang. “At the very least, it’s a splinter group within the government. I’m not the only one with that opinion.”
He couldn’t afford to get bogged down in the conspiracy details right now. They had more pressing matters to consider and solve.
“Exactly why do they want you dead?” said Larsen. “You say you know what’s going on, but it won’t be long before the conspiracy theories start flying and virus test results are made public. What do you know that everyone else won’t in a few days?”
“I’m one of a handful of people that have extensively studied the potential use of HSV as a bioweapon. With the research and data in my lab, plus what I have stored up here,” he said, pointing to his head, “I could conclusively prove that the level of sophistication required to modify and reengineer this virus far exceeds the capabilities of just about every nation and organization in existence beyond our own—and maybe Russia. Other scientists with the same level of expertise and knowledge have similarly disappeared. Taken out of circulation was the phrase used by the only colleague I’ve managed to reach.”
The Zulu Virus Chronicles Boxset (Books 1-3) Page 26
