by JT Sawyer
As he glanced at the throngs of thousands of alphas below him, some of them suddenly disappeared, their beings obliterated in a rivulet of black smoke just before they shrieked out in pain. He felt their loss, their pain as they perished, followed by a hollowness in his chest. Roland narrowed his focus on another alpha to his right, which was writhing its limbs in pain, and he could see through its eyes the horror that was unfolding as men with rifles and flamethrowers cornered it in a shipyard near the ocean. It was as if he was standing on the salt-caked concrete landing, feeling the bullets tear through the flesh of the alpha until there was nothing left to kill. After it was destroyed, his mind snapped back to the crowd below him as if an electrical cord had just been severed from its source. He gasped for air, trying to control his breathing as dozens of other images of his alphas engaged in battles around the globe filled his consciousness. In each case, he observed the details then catalogued the outcome, relaying information to the others, who then took an appropriate course to adapt their tactics against their own enemies at hand.
Roland felt his sister tugging on his arm, and he pulled back from the entrancing kaleidoscope of alphas to re-focus his attention on his location inside his estate. He knew they needed his guidance, his help, but the overwhelming flood of information was staggering. Roland pointed to his upstairs den and began walking towards the ornate wood staircase in bounding strides, where he had previously taken twenty minutes to accomplish the same feat under great duress to his body. His sister followed behind him, waiting on the landing. Once inside, he began studying the framed world atlas hanging on the east wall opposite his floor-to-ceiling library. He dragged a finger across the United States, focusing his attention on each of the larger cities he knew his alphas were residing in. They must find sanctuary somewhere else other than in buildings and tunnels. But where? He dragged his finger across the outlying areas, his gaze focusing on the locations where he knew military bases, federal buildings, and nuclear reactors were located. He could feel the full force of his considerable mental faculties returning as he probed each region for a fortified area to protect his brood. A few minutes later, he stepped back and took in the entirety of the map, his lips parting and the angular head of a large parasite emerging. It fluttered with excitement as Roland’s eyes widened, his mind shifting back to the crowd of alphas as he instructed them on their next move.
Chapter 23
After he escorted Morgan down to the infirmary, Wyatt looked at his watch and realized he was getting behind schedule. He quickened his pace as he walked across the compound to the jail. Once he had made the familiar stroll through the automated security checkpoints with his key-card, he entered the first-floor wing, which held thirty-seven minimum security felons. Wyatt motioned to three of the guards on duty to accompany him as he handcuffed six prisoners through their cell openings and then told them to step out into the hallway. The guards kept their electric stun batons steadied before the inmates and motioned for them to move down the corridor towards the north exit.
Wyatt stopped at the first checkpoint and reached up to turn off the overhead camera. Two checkpoints later, they arrived at a seldom-used passage that led to a set of steel double-doors used for emergency evacuations. Wyatt entered a small room and studied the security monitors that showed the street adjacent to their location. Good—none of those meatheads are wandering around outside. He returned to the hallway then tapped in the numeric code on the keypad, causing the sealed doors to hiss open on their hydraulic hinges. The prisoners squinted at the sunlight streaming in on their gaunt faces as the guards used the prods to shock them into moving outside. Wyatt flung the handcuff keys on the pavement then retreated back into the corridor.
“What the fuck is this, homey?” said a lanky man with a tuft of fuzz on his chin.
“Your ticket to freedom, shitbird.” He jabbed one of the men in the ribs with the shock baton, watching him curl forward in agony. “We don’t got enough food for all you guys, and the creatures will be distracted enough by you trying to escape through the city that they won’t come knockin’ here.”
“What creatures? What the hell you talkin’ about? I want to see my lawyer, man.”
Wyatt thrust his chin up to the skyline. “I suggest you get uncuffed and start moving. They’ll be coming out of the woodwork soon.” He let out a guttural laugh as he slammed the doors shut. Wyatt returned to the room with the monitors, grabbing a clipboard off the wall and writing down the names of the six men beneath thirty-four other names that were scratched out, then he examined the green blips on the monitor, which showed the moving GPS signals from the lo-jack devices on the inmates’ ankles. He scribbled down the direction they were heading and the time of day, then glanced back at the hand-drawn chart taped to the wall, which showed the beginning and ending points of other inmates released in a similar fashion, all of them with red “X’s” over the top of their names.
“I’ll bet you a tin of chew that this group makes it the farthest,” said the rail-thin guard next to Wyatt, running his fingers through his greasy hair.
“How do you figure that, dumb-ass?”
“Those boys were always working out in the weight area during their time here.”
“Yeah, and they’ve also only had rations every other day, so they’ll crash after a couple of miles of runnin’.”
“Hmm, is that why the other group made it so far last week—’cause they been eating good?”
“Yep—we were trying to see what the way outta here to the west looked like.” He pointed to the map. “So far that region looks like the least infested with those bat-faced freaks, making it a potential escape route if things get bad here in the near future. We’ve got the armored cars ready with weapons and supplies just in case.”
They saw one of the GPS signals lag behind as the others sped up. A few seconds later, the lone signal faded and disappeared.
Wyatt slugged the other guard in the shoulder, causing him to wince and stagger back. “Hah—looks like you was wrong. That pathetic dog didn’t have any wind in his fucking sails. Now pay up on that chew.”
“We didn’t even shake on it—you kept talkin’ about rations and shit.”
Wyatt waved the shock baton in front of the man’s face. “Have it on my bunk by dinner or you’ll get your teeth kicked in while you’re sleeping.”
Wyatt nodded, then pointed to the monitor, which showed the remaining three GPS signals, whose pace had increased. “Back to Roman times, where the weak perish in the games.” He tugged his belt up over his distended belly then turned his head and spit on the floor.
• • •
From his cramped sniper hide inside a minivan that he had blacked out with trash bags and duct tape, Nash rubbed his eyes and took another glimpse at the prison walls through the scope on his AR. He hadn’t heard from Reisner in seventy minutes, but knew they were probably running through their plans with the warden and figuring out a way to contact Ivins, who would be inbound within the hour. He wasn’t sure how Reisner was going to convince the leadership inside that they didn’t have room on the helicopter for more than a couple of people beside his group, but figured his boss was employing his usual diplomacy to get things done.
He rubbed a kink in his neck while continuing to stare through his scope. Nash bit down on his lip at the sight of six prisoners in orange jumpsuits huddled near the north entrance, removing their handcuffs. He watched four of the men disappear into an alley, then he swung his scope back towards the north perimeter of the prison wall, looking for the escape route they used.
Nothing looks out of place or damaged. How the hell did they make a break for it? Nash saw a set of rusty steel doors open and a bearded man step outside. It was the goon from the front entrance that he had placed his red dot on earlier. He stepped outside with two other guards with stun batons. They struck the men in the ribs while laughing and waving their hands for the prisoners to leave.
What kind of shit-show are they running in th
ere? He watched the two prisoners scurry across the street, then saw the guards re-enter the building.
He leaned back, remembering the bloody prison jumpsuit they had seen a few hours earlier outside the bank. Are they using these guys as bait to draw attention away from the prison?
He sat up, grabbing his walkie-talkie, hoping that Reisner still had his earpiece in so no one else inside would hear what he was about to say.
Chapter 24
Jim Noveck was hunched over the microscope, examining another sample of Amber’s blood. He pulled back, stretching his neck then looking over at Selene, who was busy scanning the 1918 flu sample results on her laptop.
“So, my findings so far suggest that Amber’s bloodwork is not indicative of immunity but rather an inhospitable environment for the parasites.” He stood up, pacing around the room. “I recall during her interview after she arrived here that she said, and I’m paraphrasing: she had worms in her leg wound after the drone bit her but the worms died and fell off. That tells me that it was her unique biochemistry and not a natural immunity to the virus that led to her not becoming infected, because the disease vector of the parasites was unable to flourish in her tissue and thus couldn’t spread the infection. At least that’s what my findings are showing so far.”
Selene sat back in her seat, impressed with Noveck’s astute observations and findings. “Good work, given how little time you’ve had to study all of this.” She pressed a pen into her chin, her eyes darting around the room. “So, if you can further isolate the specific genetic markers in her blood that enable that to happen, we might be able to synthesize a prophylactic shot that our soldiers afield can use to prevent infection if they get bitten.”
He nodded, but had an evident smirk. “I agree, that could be a great tool to have on the battlefield, but manufacturing that on a large scale to inoculate thousands of troops is going to take a year or more, especially since the CDC capabilities have been greatly reduced.”
“I know—I know, but if we could even create a small portion to have on hand for particularly high-risk operations that our military might face, then we could save a lot of lives. We have to at least start the process.”
Noveck returned to his workstation. “Anything on your end with the 1918 samples?”
“Nothing conclusive. I won’t have any answers back for a few more hours. I’m having Margaret in BSL-4 splice the virus from the lung tissue sample I obtained from the Presidio cemetery into a cross-section of orabitid mites to recreate the original virus that Hayes concocted. Assuming the genetic makeup is the same, we should know pretty quickly whether we’re on the right track.” She tossed the pen on the desk and rubbed the side of her neck muscles. “If I can see what effect the virus had on the development of the mites then I’ll know more about the specific mutation that led to the development of the larger parasites present in the alphas.”
“Then what?”
“Then, my good doctor, we might have the means of creating a bioweapon to use against them, especially if we can isolate what makes Amber’s biochemistry so unique.”
“Like I said—then what?” He cracked his knuckles then let out a sigh. “So what if we—if you—do all that? How can we possibly manufacture anything on a large scale to combat those creatures out there? The vaccine manufacturers were overwhelmed during a typical flu season and now we’re supposed to come up with a cure and mass produce it?”
Selene could see the tension lines in his face, which was growing redder with each passing second. She couldn’t imagine being a newly anointed doctor out of medical school just starting with the CDC only to watch all of his mentors die in the week following the pandemic. The burden he must feel being thrust into an authority position without the field experience needed to back it up. Christ, I had eleven years working in Africa and Asia with some of the best minds in the world and I’m still lost with what’s going on most days.
“Look, why don’t you take a few hours off and get some rest. I can cover things for now.”
“I’m good, thanks. Just need to—” He paused, letting out a deep breath. “I’m sorry, I’ve felt like I’m living on an island here for the past ten days, watching the world crumble. I mean, I’m a goddamned virologist…and…I…I couldn’t even help my own family.” His tears flowed freely as he mumbled, “They died the second day of the pandemic at home while I was sealed inside here, courtesy of our director’s federal response plan.”
She got up and moved beside him. “I can’t even presume to know what you’ve gone through being trapped inside this facility, working as the sole scientist. I know I lost a lot of people I love—colleagues and…and most likely my parents—but it’s those people that make me want to fight and to find a solution. We have to push on for not only the innocent lives who were lost to this virus but for all those who are depending on us right now and for future generations.” She thought of Reisner and his team running for their lives on the streets of L.A., hoping—yearning—that they were still alive. “Our battlefield is not as overtly dangerous as those who are on the front lines in this fight, but we are all in this together, Carl, and I’m here to help. Together we can figure this out.”
He shook his head, unballing his fists then pulling his chair closer to the microscope. “You can count on me, Doctor Munroe. I won’t let you down.”
“Excellent. When you can, I need to run those samples of Amber’s blood again and cross-check them against other cases that might be in the database at MacDill’s medical labs and our sister agencies around the country. There has to be something special about her that we’re overlooking, but I just don’t know what it is yet.”
She ran a hand through her hair before sitting down, feeling the pressure building in her shoulders. She was beyond overwhelmed with the work she had in front of her. Noveck was a very dedicated researcher but he was inexperienced and grew flustered easily. The remaining CDC staff were efficient and helpful but there weren’t enough of them to carry out all the sequencing tests while also running the day-to-day operations of the facility. If only she had her colleague Victor Tso beside her. The brilliant Taiwanese virologist could provide insights she knew she was bound to overlook. Last she had heard, he and his staff had been taken to Pearl Harbor after the attack on the Reagan.
She returned to her desk and saw her laptop screen flashing, indicating there was a priority message from a J. Runa awaiting her reply. Selene instantly recognized the name, hoping it was good news about Will. Her finger hesitated over the Enter button. She took a deep breath then depressed the button, pulling her shoulders back as she tried to ease her taut expression.
The stoic face of an African-American man in his late fifties appeared on the monitor. Selene could see part of an AR rifle slung over his tactical vest, and wondered where he was at.
“Good morning, this is Doctor Selene Munroe.”
The man stared at her for a second before a faint smile emerged. “Jonas Runa, and I am absolutely honored to meet you, Doctor. I wish we were meeting under different circumstances. You’ll have to forgive me dispensing with the pleasantries, but I have some pressing questions and you seem ideally suited to help me find the answers.”
“That’s a high compliment coming from you. Will has told me so much about you.”
“Nothing good, I hope,” he said with a smirk. “When we’re done, I would sure like to talk with him for a few minutes.”
She scrunched her eyebrows together, slouching in her chair. “You don’t know then—he and most of his team are still in L.A. We don’t know where he’s at or whether…” She paused, turning her head away. When she looked back up at Runa, she could see his face was stoic.
“I had no idea. I, uhm…” He cleared his throat.
“Connelly, Pacelle, and Seal Commander Ivins are enroute to his location as we speak. We should know more shortly. I’ll certainly keep you posted.”
“Very good.” He rubbed his thumb into his forehead then looked over his shoulder. Sh
e could see a laboratory observation room behind him, with someone lying supine on a gurney.
“Not sure yet if this is good news or bad news, but I need your help with determining why an alpha like this one behind me would be traveling in a group with two other alphas and why it was carrying vials of clear fluid.”
She scrunched her eyebrows together. Selene was as curious about his latter comment as his mention of multiple alphas, but thought she would return to that in a moment once she knew more about Runa’s predicament and location. “So there were three alphas in close proximity to one another?”
“Not exactly. All three of them and hundreds of drones made their way out to an agency ship moored off the coast of Venezuela and overtook the crew. I’ve examined the ship’s security camera footage, and this alpha behind me was clearly holding the reins of the others.”
“What were the findings of the ship’s physician—anything unusual?” She tried to see beyond him into the room.
He let out a sigh. “Uhm, there is no physician on board anymore. With the exception of the captain and three support staff, the entire crew was wiped out within thirty minutes of the creatures boarding. At present, the ship is inbound for Florida and will be approaching the quarantine zone around Tampa in a few hours. I’ll have one of the army physicians from MacDill study its condition. But I want to know your thoughts on the other thing: the reports from the captain indicate that this alpha was carrying a handful of vials that contain some kind of clear, syrupy fluid.” He pointed over his shoulder to the lab.
