by Ralph Gibbs
On the walls surrounding the War Room were giant computer screens depicting electronic maps of various parts of the world and the United States. There were enough giant computer screens to show each major country that was a threat to the United States and every state in the Union. Finally, in the center of the room was a brown live edge conference table large enough to seat thirty people, but today, it was only half-filled with advisors and staff.
As he sat at the head of the table, an aide walked over and placed a small stack of folders in front of him and then fanned them out as if he were a blackjack dealer opening a new deck. Each folder was labeled with a title that started with the word “Operation” and ended with whatever codeword the intel geeks came up with. Centered at the top and bottom edge of the manila folder was its corresponding sensitive designation, ranging from unclassified to top secret. He looked up at the aide, an unknown woman dressed in her navy uniform. “Thank you . . .” He let the rest of what he wanted to say trail off. Although he’d seen the girl before, he couldn’t remember her name. He made a mental note to get her name so he would remember the next time. He always felt that it was essential to know the people that worked for him.
“I hope everyone had a productive day,” he said to the group. He pulled the top folder labeled Operation Phoenix. The next folder was labeled Operation Arrow. It wasn’t until he looked at the third folder, labeled Operation Ares, could determine the theme code makers were using this week. “Greek mythology?”
“Yes, Mr. President,” Margaret Nawrocki said.
“Okay, I get Phoenix and Ares, but Arrow?” the president said. Since becoming president, he’d learned that the development of codewords was an art form in the military and, contrary to what’s shown in the movies, it wasn’t easy. In the movies, they only needed to come up with one or two codewords to represent a mission. In real life, it was never that simple, as each operation comprised several sub-missions at once. Therefore, code makers usually came up with themes to make life easier. If code makers settled on pizza for one of their names, other related themes might include crust, cheese, pepperoni and so on. One of the primary rules for codenames, however, was that it needed to be pronounceable. If Norse mythology became the current theme, Thor’s hammer could not be used, because most people couldn’t pronounce Mjolnir. At the same time, the code makers needed to be mindful not to use offensive or derogatory words in case the operation attracted media attention. When the navy killed Osama bin Laden, they used the codeword, Geronimo, to indicate Osama was dead. When the codeword became public, several Native American Groups took offense at the use of the famous Native American’s name.
“Arrow has its origin with Hercules,” Margret said. “I had to look this up myself, but the word ‘toxic’ is derived from the Greek word ‘toxon’ which means arrow.”
“How does that relate to Hercules?” the president asked.
“After Hercules killed the Hydra, he cut open the creature and dipped his arrows in the creature’s venom, thus creating—”
“—A toxic arrow,” the president finished for her. Margret nodded.
“Send the code makers my compliments and to keep up the good work,” the president said. As he opened the folder marked Operation Arrow, Calvin Walsh, the president’s Intelligence Director and Head of the FBI and CIA came in quietly and sat down.
“Sorry, I’m late, Mr. President,” Walsh said.
“I got your message,” the president said. “I can see by your expression you have news I’m not going to like.”
“No, Mr. President, you’re not,” Walsh said. “There’s been another chlorine plant explosion. I received confirmation just a few moments ago.”
“So, it’s deliberate,” the president said.
“Looks like it,” Walsh said.
“Fuck,” President Dixon nearly shouted. “Where?”
“Muskogee, Oklahoma,” Walsh said.
“Anything we can do to help?” General Angles said.
“No,” Walsh said. “The city is already gone. The plant is right next to the city. At the moment, I don’t know the extent of the chlorine cloud but if it’s anything like Kansas, any plague survivors in Muskogee, Fort Gibson, Okay, Tallahassee and Summit are likely dead.”
“Numbers,” the president whispered.
“Pre-plague population numbers were around fifty thousand,” Walsh said. “Post-plague numbers are estimated at ten thousand. Estimate five percent of them died after the plague for various reasons; another twenty percent left the area looking for loved ones. That would put the casualty rate at close to eight thousand.”
“Jesus,” more than one person said.
“I have more bad news,” Walsh said. “Latest surveillance of the Kansas leak shows the cloud has expanded to approximately thirty miles in diameter. It’s not as solid as it once was, but I don’t think it matters. It pretty much engulfed Wichita.”
“Numbers,” the president said again so low that Walsh almost didn’t hear him.
“Tough to calculate,” Walsh said. This would be bad, and he didn’t want to tell the president.
“Try,” the president ordered.
“The pre-plague population of Wichita metropolitan area was estimated at nearly eight hundred thousand,” Walsh said without hesitation.
“Oh hell,” someone said, realizing the casualty estimates would be high.
“One hundred sixty thousand post-plague,” Walsh continued. “Using the same estimates as Muskogee, that would put the number killed at around one hundred and twenty thousand.”
“Oh my God,” General Angles said. A few other people swore loudly.
“That number assumes a one hundred percent casualty rate,” General Angles said. “There are going to be survivors.”
“True,” Walsh said. “Because chlorine gas is heavier than air, the cloud will stay low to the ground. Anyone staying above the chlorine cloud might survive. There are a good number of high-rises in the downtown Wichita area, but most of them are office buildings. There’s one high-rise condo and a few hotels. Even if generous and a couple hundred survive, it’ll still be over a hundred thousand dead. That’ll be offset by the number of small towns that were engulfed in the initial cloud and those engulfed in the next few days.” He paused. “Between the two clouds, I’m estimating that before the clouds dissipate, the gas will claim upwards of two hundred thousand people.”
“Is there nothing we can do to help them?” Margret asked. Walsh shook his head.
“In Kansas, the plant is only eight miles from Wichita, and the Muskogee plant is basically a suburb of the city. By the time we knew of the explosions, it was too late for both the cities. The most pressing problem is that shifting winds are pushing the gas toward Topeka and Kansas City.”
“What about in Oklahoma?” the president asked.
“They’re working that up now,” Walsh said. “However, let me add a bit of good news here. With the storms coming, the high winds and heavy rains will dissipate the toxic fumes within the next forty-eight hours.”
“Are we doing anything to warn the cities?” newly promoted Defense Secretary, Andrew Yeager asked.
“We sent half a dozen helicopters to Topeka and Kansas City warning whoever’s left to evacuate. That’s all we can do.”
“I disagree,” General Jackson said. He turned to the president. “Sir, with your permission, I’d like to send a dozen half-ton pickups to the area to help rescue any survivors. We have chemical gear that will keep the men safe and can bring another truckload of gear to help protect any civilians we find.”
“You’ll run into a lot of traffic jams that will slow you down,” Yeager said.
“I’ll commandeer one of the M9 Combat Earthmovers,” General Jackson said. “They’ll clear anything short of a toppled high-rise.”
“This will take away from the assets going to the border,” Walsh pointed out.”
“I’ll chance it,” General Jackson said.
“Permission gran
ted,” the president said. Then he asked, “Do we know who is doing this?” already guessing the answer.
“Or why?” General Angels asked.
“No, to both questions,” Walsh said.
“What about the other plants?” the president asked.
“No way to know,” Walsh said. “I have a drone flying to the Utah plant to check on its status. If that one is destroyed, I’ll have them check on the Nevada plant, followed by the Oregon and Washington plants. It’ll take time. There are nearly ninety chlorine plants in the United States. It could be these are the first two. I’m hoping.”
“But we can tell whoever is doing this is heading south,” General Jackson stated.
“Yes,” Walsh agreed. “But are they heading to Texas or Louisiana? There are six chlorine plants in Texas and nine in Louisiana.”
“General Jackson, after this meeting, get with Walsh and plot out the likely targets in both Texas and Louisiana. Get every SEAL and special forces members you can find and surveil those targets. If you don’t have enough manpower, augment with anyone you need from any branch you need,” the president ordered.
“And if we find the person or people responsible?” General Jackson asked.
“Don’t bring them back here,” the president said forcefully.
“Understood,” General Jackson said.
“Sir, I recommend capturing whoever is responsible for this,” Walsh said.
“Why?” the president asked with a hint of anger in his voice.
“We need to interrogate them to make sure they aren’t affiliated with a hostile power,” Walsh said. The president hesitated for a long moment, and then finally relented.
“Fine,” he said. “General.”
“Understood, sir,” General Jackson said. He picked up the phone next to him and began to issue orders.
“Let’s get intel on all the chlorine plants,” the president said. “Chances are good these aren’t the only two.
“Yes, sir,” General Jackson said.
The president paused a few heartbeats. “Since there is nothing else we can do, let’s press on,” the president finally said. “What about the fires?” He lifted his head and looked at Margret Nawrocki. “Margret, are the fires under control?”
“Not yet, Mr. President,” she said.
“What’s the problem?” he asked.
“There’s little to no running water and no trained firefighters,” she answered as if prepared for the question. “That said, we may see some relief starting tonight. According to the weather reports, the tropical storm that’s been building in the Gulf is pushing a line of thunderstorms in our direction, and they’re likely to hit hard starting tonight. As long as the wind doesn’t pick up and the helicopters can start up again in the morning dumping water, we should get the fires under control by the end of the week.”
“How much of the city did we lose?” Vice President Marion White asked. He was still attending the meeting remotely but would arrive at The Mountain within the week. Once he arrived, he was scheduled to spend ten days in the community that had established itself at Paterson Air Force Base before joining the president in The Mountain. He was not looking forward to the stint in quarantine, which the president suspected was the reason it had taken him so long to come to Colorado and why he was spending so much time at the base.
“Just a small portion of the outlying suburbs,” Nawrocki said. “But we also lost the skyscraper it started in.”
“That’s not too bad,” someone said.
“Considering there’s no one alive that can rebuild skyscrapers, one is bad enough,” the president said.
“Any casualties?” the president asked.
“Twelve,” Margret said. “They were living in the skyscraper, and my guess is they were overcome by smoke. At least I hope to God that’s what happened to them.”
“Do we know how it started?” Yeager asked. “Considering the new information on the chlorine plants, do we know if the fire was deliberately set?”
“It wasn’t lightning,” Nawrocki said. “Electricity’s out in that part of town, so it wasn’t electrical. I don’t think we can rule out deliberate, but I doubt it. More likely, someone was cooking inside the skyscraper, and it got away from them. Embers from that fire started the fires in the countryside.”
“We need to get better at fighting fires,” the president said. “We shouldn’t have to rely on the weather to get fires under control. Are there no firefighters in the settlement that can train people?”
“None that we’ve been able to identify,” Nawrocki said. “Odds are, one will show up eventually.”
“We could fly in a few men from one of the navy ships,” General Angles said. “They may not know how to fight a skyscraper fire, but they can train people on the basics of firefighting.”
“Good idea,” the president said. “Let’s make sure they’re from a ship that’s already been hit with the plague. We also need to get the word out to people to be careful with their fires and only grill outdoors.” He turned to Walsh. “Is the radio station repaired?” One of the first orders President Dixon had given was to establish communication with people in the general area. A radio station seemed like the best solution, and it took them less than twenty-four hours to find someone with enough technical know-how to get the radio station up and running. However, over the last two days, the station was experiencing technical difficulties.
“Yes sir,” Walsh said.
“What was the problem?” the president asked.
“Rats,” Walsh said.
“Rats?” the president asked, incredulous.
“Yes, Mr. President,” Walsh said. “They chewed through the transmission wires.”
“Can’t we get rid of them?” the president asked, sounding exasperated. “Put a bunch of traps and poison out.”
“We’re trying, Mr. President,” Nawrocki said. “But the rat population is exploding.”
“That will end up being a problem,” Doctor William Delgado, new Head of the CDC, said from his office in Washington. It turned out the CDC wasn’t as isolated as hoped. All it took was for one person to secretly leave the building to check on his mistress and several people looking for a cure to find their way in through the same door to kill off nearly the entire functioning CDC staff. “If they’re not brought under control, the rats are going to spread diseases.
“One major outbreak in my lifetime is enough,” the president said. “Find some cats.”
“Sir?” Nawrocki said.
“Cats, Margret,” the president said. “You know. Purr, purr, meow, meow. It’s not a quick solution, but there has to be plenty of feral cats running around. Trap and breed them. When the babies are old enough, domesticate them. Maybe we’ll get lucky and trap a few females that are already pregnant. I’m also sure that a few wild cats need to be reminded they were someone’s pets.”
“Sir,” General Angles said. “It’s been my experience cats breed like rabbits. Within a year we’ll be overrun.”
“I have a feeling that’ll be a good thing,” Walsh said. “They’ll be another source of food.”
“You can’t be serious,” Nawrocki said.
“Yes, I am,” Walsh said. “Right now, there’s plenty of food, but supplies are falling. Eventually, the food will be eaten or spoiled, and I’ve yet to meet anyone that knows how to farm on a massive scale. By next winter, people may be staving, and cats might be the difference between life and death. We’re trying to bring in other livestock, but people are arriving here daily, and soon, we’ll probably have more people here than we can effectively feed.”
“The winters in Colorado are brutal,” the president added. “If I had any choice, this would not have been the place I would have chosen to start over. Somewhere with a longer growing season would have been preferable.” He leaned back in his chair. “Militarily, there’s no better strategic location, but agriculturally it sucks.” He checked his watch. “Let’s get back to the rats. Until w
e can breed cats, I want everyone we can spare out finding and setting rat traps. Get that out on the radio. Tell the code makers I’m starting a new theme. Call cat collection, Operation Bastet, after the Egyptian goddess of war.”
“Yes, sir,” Nawrocki said.
“Wasn’t she also known as the goddess of perfume?” Andrew Yeager said.
“A man that knows his mythology,” the president said. “She was, but she later became known as the goddess of protection against contagious diseases and evil spirits.
“Bastet, it is,” Margret said.
“How’s the fuel situation?” the president asked.
“Good, Mr. President,” Andrew Yeager said. “The strategic reserves have been secured. We’re also securing every fuel depot we can find within a fifty-mile radius, and every car, truck, and motorcycle in the city is being drained of fuel and towed away. We also have a healthy supply of propane.”
“I want every bit of fuel going to the military,” the president said. “Thanks to politics and a lack of foresight within the House and Senate our military runs only on diesel or gas, and it’s sorely needed right now. I’ve been kept briefed on the situation at the border, but to make sure everyone is up to speed, Generals Angles give us an update.”
“There’s a border situation?” someone asked.
“There is,” General Angles said. “People from South and Central America are migrating north.”
“Has anyone figured out what the hell for?” Vice President White asked.
“The same thing they always have,” Walsh said. “The promise of a better life. It’s just that in this case, there’s the added rumor we have a cure.”
“Hasn’t anyone told them there is no cure?” White asked
“They don’t believe us,” Margret said. “Would you, if you were desperate?”
