“Seats, please,” President Martinez said as she took hers. Instead of opening her ever-present iPAD, she set a yellow notepad in front of her, then clicked open her pen. The iPAD was not a necessity, and she insisted on following the same rules she’d put in place for everyone else.
With her pen poised above the paper, she looked around the room. The screens that had previously shown images of the CDC, the Pentagon, and NORAD were dark, not because there weren’t survivors there, each location was still holding strong, but because the VTC capabilities relied on Internet connectivity that was no longer available. Information was passed solely via voice communications, and decisions and orders made by the President would be sent to the remote locations separately after the meeting concluded.
To her right, Secretary of State Alan Roberson sat, looking, as most did, weary. Amazingly, the man still wore a tie with his button up shirt and dark blue slacks, though his shirt wasn’t as crisply ironed as was typical. He’d confessed to her that he kept the next day’s shirt hanging from the back wall of the shower in his quarters, allowing the steam to remove the wrinkles from the fabric while either he or his wife washed themselves.
Seeing her looking over, he smiled and nodded.
“Good morning, Madam President.”
“Morning Alan. Let’s hope it’s a good one.”
“From what I’ve heard, I believe it will be,” he replied. His eyes showed something she hadn’t seen much of over the last two weeks: hope.
“Well, let’s find out.” Looking over to a man in uniform seated next to the Secretary of State, the President lifted her chin slightly. “Colonel, what do you have?”
“Madam President, this morning at eleven seventeen a.m. local time, eight seventeen Pacific, a man, presumably in California, called the San Francisco Protective Zone claiming to have a girl who’s immune to the Rage virus with him.”
The President leaned forward, her eyes locking onto the man’s face as she spoke. “That is good news, Colonel.”
“Agreed, Madam President, but I should caution you and everyone else, this is only someone saying they have a girl with them who’s immune. We have no way of knowing whether or not it’s true.”
“It’s better than nothing, Colonel.”
“Yes, Ma’am, but there’s a catch.”
President Martinez cocked her head to the side as she regarded the man. “A catch? How so?”
Colonel Williamson grimaced and shook his head as he responded. “The man’s holding her for ransom.”
Collectively, the people in the room gasped. The hope for survival, the hope for the future was being used as a bargaining chip?
Taking a deep breath, the President regained her composure. “How much money does he want?”
“Not money, Madam President. He’s demanding one hundred pounds of gold.”
Shocked again, President Martinez sat forward, staring at the man intensely. “Gold? Are you serious?” Realizing she was shooting the messenger, she put her hands up in surrender. “I’m sorry, Colonel. That was uncalled for. I apologize.”
Colonel Williamson smiled slightly. “No need to apologize, Madam President. My reaction was much worse when I heard the news.”
Sitting back in her chair, the President nodded as her mind worked. Within seconds, she had a plan in mind, but she wanted to consider the inputs of those in the room before she spoke. Looking over at the Secretary of State, she asked, “Alan, what do you think?”
Alan Roberson sat forward in his chair and smoothed his tie absentmindedly as he answered. “Two things, Madam President. One, we have to assume he’s telling the truth about having someone immune. Thinking he’s lying or wrong about it leaves us open to the risk of losing a vital opportunity.”
“Agree,” the President replied, nodding.
“Two, we can’t let him hold this country’s future hostage and get away with it.”
Jessica Martinez smiled. Alan had always had a fiery streak to him, one that quickly became evident when he was exposed to injustice. It was something she admired in him, and something that served as a continual reminder of how lucky she was to have him supporting her presidency.
“Absolutely not,” she answered, shaking her head. Looking past the SecState, her gaze settled on Colonel Williamson. “Thoughts, Colonel?”
The man frowned slightly as he looked down at the table, then said, “I’m out of my element on the part regarding how to handle the girl.” He glanced across the table and nodded his head in Jonathan’s direction. “We’ll bring in Captain Reed, here, on that part.” Looking back at the President, he added, “The second part, the ‘not letting him get away with this B.S.’ - excuse my language Madam President - that part I can take care of.”
The President brought her hand up. “No need to apologize for the language, Colonel. It is bullshit.” Looking over at Andrew, Lisa, and Jonathan, she asked, “Doctors, your thoughts?”
Andrew Chang waited, assuming Jonathan would respond. When he didn’t, Andrew looked in his direction only to find the man looking back at him expectantly.
Jonathan nodded at him. “Doctor Chang?”
Andrew hesitated briefly, then turned to the President. “Madam President, I’m only going to make a suggestion about the first part. The second part is not in my area of expertise, nor do I want to know what either of you mean by ‘not letting him get away with it.’” He paused momentarily before continuing. “For the girl, I recommend we send Doctor, I mean, Captain Reed here to the San Francisco Protective Zone. Once the girl’s been delivered, or rescued, or whatever, Jonathan will take several vials of her blood and store them in multiple pressurized containers for safe transport. Two will be brought by Doctor Reed back to our lab here. Two will need to be delivered to the CDC - we’ll need someone else to handle that part, Doctor Reed, I mean Captain, no, in this case, he’s Doctor Reed, will be needed here.”
Seeing the President’s imminent question, he quickly added, “Not to worry, our intention is to bring the girl here as well, but in the unlikely event of something going wrong, we’ll have blood to study and use for development of a vaccine in multiple locations. The cases we’ll be using for transport are not only pressurized and temperature controlled, they’re also impact resistant.”
President Martinez considered his words for a few moments, then nodded. “Sounds good. I’m glad you’ve already got that part figured out, Doctor.”
Andrew shrugged. “I’ve had a lot of time to think about it, Madam President.”
“No doubt.” Moving her gaze to Jonathan, she asked, “Captain, are you okay with that plan?”
Jonathan nodded. “It’s what I signed up for, Madam President.”
“Good,” she replied, nodding.
“Just one thing, Madam President,” he added.
“What’s that?”
“Steight goes with me.”
Surprised, she recoiled slightly. “State? What’s that?”
Jonathan smiled. “Steight’s my dog. She’ll be an asset on the ground when we get there. As you know, animals can smell the infected at great distances, so she’ll help keep a lookout.”
The President shrugged. “Sure, makes sense. I don’t have a problem with it, do you, Captain?”
Williamson shook his head. “No, Ma’am.”
“And the part about not letting this jerkoff get away with holding the United States of America hostage?”
The officer smiled. “I’ll take care of that part, Madam President.”
CHAPTER NINE
Palo Alto, California
It wasn’t that Robert “Dirty” Sanchez didn’t respect The Scorpion. If he was being honest with himself, the woman scared the shit out of him.
Nor was it that he didn’t like and support her being in charge. Unlike Leon, the woman had a vision for the future, one that emphasized control over what they had and a focus on maintaining it, both by feeding and caring for the people, and by protecting them. While some of the citize
ns who lived within The Scorpion’s territory, which stretched from Alamitos to the south all the way up to Redwood City in the north, were unhappy with how they were treated, none could say they weren’t protected and fed.
It wasn’t even that he didn’t understand or agree with the reason she’d put the quarantine rules in place that she had. The virus was deadly, and worse than that, it turned people into monsters, monsters who turned on anyone and everyone, regardless of any relationship or knowledge they had of the people around them.
It’s just that the woman in front of him was so damned hot.
With long, flowing naturally blonde hair, brilliant blue eyes, and a figure that wouldn’t quit, she looked like something out of a magazine. (In truth, she was a cheerleader for the Golden State Warriors, a job that helped pay the bills while she attended Stanford.)
Though she looked at him through eyes filled with contempt, he wasn’t worried. After the right amount of ‘convincing,’ she’d answered his questions, confirming that she hadn’t been bitten or scratched by any of the infected.
With only Nacho at his side, no one would know if he snuck her back to his room inside the large high rise he and many of the others resided within.
‘You shouldn’t Robert,’ he thought, looking at the woman as she stood there, stripped down to her pink jog bra and tight gray shorts, ‘but Jesus Christ, she’s hot,’ he finished, before admitting, ‘and there ain’t no way you’ll be allowed to keep her if the others see her.’
He was low, very low on the totem pole, and rarely got much choice in anything. He typically had very little say so in any decision made around or involving him, no matter how trivial. Instead, it was the others calling him “Dirty Sanchez”, a nickname he hated, while choosing the things they wanted, sometime leaving him only with the things they cared little about, sometimes leaving him with nothing.
It was bullshit. He worked hard, carrying out The Scorpion’s orders as he and Nacho patrolled the Northeast Sector of their territory, ferreting out people who hid from them, confiscating their supplies, and marching them back to the holding facility, where they were turned over to the group of men and women who oversaw the quarantine and, if the prisoners made it three days without showing signs of being infected, their work assignments.
The best looking women were kept by the men there, assigned to ‘cleaning duties’ in their quarters. Some of the men had as many as four women assigned to them, women whose sole duty was to ensure the men never went a day without satisfaction.
The likelihood that this gorgeous woman, one who was hands down better looking than 99% of the other women captured, would be passed on to him was effectively zero.
‘Less than zero,’ he finished in his mind.
Looking at the blonde woman with her tear-streaked face, his mind was made up.
“You’re staying with me,” he told her, smiling.
CHAPTER TEN
California Central Coast
‘Weird how I’ve missed this,’ Sarah Ferguson thought as she slid the steering wheel to the right, deftly avoiding a large orange drum that had been knocked into the middle of the road after being struck by an Amazon Prime delivery van, which rested half-on, half-off a three-foot high concrete wall that had been put in place to protect the Caltrans workers while they worked on expanding this section of the 101.
Turning the wheel back to the left, she guided the Hybrid Toyota Highlander back towards the center of the road as her eyes continued to move, watching for potential danger as she guided their vehicle north.
Finding the Hybrid SUV had been part luck, part opportunity. With their planned stop in San Luis Obispo, the large Toyota dealership there had rows and rows of vehicles. After the attack near Pismo Beach, Serrano had been unyielding in his decision to have all of them ride together. Finding a SUV big enough for six adults and two young children was easy. Finding one that was a Hybrid vehicle to boot was lucky indeed.
The vehicle hummed quietly as she drove at a faster speed than what they’d used on the previous days, requiring her full concentration as she tightly gripped the wheel. The feeling of driving again, combined with the feeling of being secure in the company of a Navy SEAL and two Marines, allowed her to relax a bit as she drove, enjoying the simple mechanics of driving the SUV.
Across from her, Jennifer sat in the passenger seat, alternating between checking the map and helping her keep an eye out for trouble. She’d been exceedingly quiet since Damien’s death, keeping mostly to herself without being overtly closed towards Sarah when approached for conversation.
Sensing Sarah’s brief gaze, Jennifer looked up and gave a slight smile before returning her attention to the road ahead.
At the back of the SUV, Richard sat with Olivia and Jason, telling them stories of his time in the service and of random experiences he’d had while traveling. The man was a bottomless well of stories and an expert storyteller. The children listened attentively, asking questions occasionally as they visualized the things he described.
In the row of seats directly behind her, Serrano was cleaning his weapon for the umpteenth time, taking it apart, wiping it down, applying a thin sheen of oil to the parts, and then reassembling the gun in a practiced, memorized manner.
Next to him, Aaron was whispering to Phillip, his tone pleading in nature. From the few words Sarah was able to pick up, it was about Jennifer.
Glancing over at Jennifer, she saw a look of irritation on the young woman’s face.
Turning in her seat, the young woman glared at her brother.
“Hey,” she said, keeping her voice low to avoid distracting the children from Richard’s stories, “I can decide for myself who I want to be with.”
“I know, but - ” Phillip began.
“But nothing. I’m a grown woman, and I can figure things out for myself.”
“I’m just trying to protect you,” he explained, clearly caught off guard by her outburst.
“You wanna protect me? Protect me from things out there.” She pointed outside of the SUV. “Aaron’s your friend, isn’t he?”
“Uh, yeah…”
“Exactly, and from everything I’ve heard you say about him, he’s a nice guy, isn’t he?”
“Yeah…”
“Alright, then, back off.”
“I - ”
“Back. Off.”
“Fine,” Phillip replied, looking past Aaron and out the window, refusing to make eye contact.
Turning her attention to Aaron, Jennifer’s tone softened some, but not completely. Her voice remained firm as she spoke. “Aaron, I think you’re a nice guy, okay?”
Aaron nodded, keeping his face impassive. “Okay.”
“For now, let’s just be...cool, alright?” Her voice softened even more as she explained. “I’m not trying to rush into anything, especially not when we’re still trying to figure out how to survive.”
“I understand, and it’s fine,” Aaron said, smiling at the young woman.
“Thanks,” she replied, smiling. Her eyes met Aaron’s and held them for several long seconds before she turned away.
Sarah stole another glance at the woman. The smile remained on her face as she looked down at the map.
Looking back to see how Chili had reacted to the exchange, Sarah found him focused on his weapon, still cleaning it in the meticulous manner he showed each time.
Sensing her looking at him, he glanced at her and gave a sly smile before returning his attention to the gun.
By mid-afternoon, Sarah had been relieved of driving duties by Aaron, who had eagerly volunteered to take over under the assumption that Jennifer would still be sitting up front, only to have Phillip slide into the seat, sending Jennifer to the back, where she checked on her grandfather and helped Sarah take care of the little ones.
Serrano snoozed quietly, leaning his head against the window as he rested with his hands lightly clasped in his lap. Somehow, the man seemed to be capable of falling asleep within minutes, regardless
of the setting.
Realizing rest was probably a good idea, Sarah pulled Olivia into her arms and mimicked Serrano’s position, leaning her head against the window. Immediately feeling discomfort from the hard surface’s unyielding nature, she grabbed her jacket, folded it up, and pressed it against the window before placing her head against it.
Olivia played along for a bit, resting her body against Sarah’s hip and her head against Sarah’s side, but soon after she grew bored with the plan and extracted herself from Sarah’s embrace, moving away from her so that she could play with her brother. Fortunately, they kept their noise level minimal, though Sarah suspected the reason for their consideration was more directed towards Serrano than her. The children (and most of the adults, if she was being completely honest) regarded the man like a superhero.
After seeing him in action, she didn’t blame them.
Slumped there with her head against her jacket, she allowed her body to drift with the movement of the SUV as Aaron maneuvered them around obstacles in the road. Listening to the sound of the road and the wind through the open windows, she waited for sleep to come.
Eventually, she drifted off.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Central California
“I have to go to the bathroom.”
Soft and wavering, the voice came from the small girl in the backseat.
“Don’t care.” Reilley replied, keeping his eyes on the road ahead. “Hold it,” he added. The last thing he wanted was the smell of urine inside the confines of the car.
The girl persisted, her voice rising as she pleaded. “Please. I can’t hold it.”
Looking down at the gas gauge, he did a quick calculation in his head before growling, “We’re stopping in about forty-five minutes. You can wait.”
Though the Prius got great gas mileage, nearly fifty miles to the gallon, his efforts to reach San Francisco as quickly as possible resulted in him spending little time at the lower speeds that allowed the car to be exclusively powered by the battery, especially after the numerous detours he’d had to make.
Surviving Rage | Book 4 Page 4
