“You scared me to death,” she said as she uncoiled from her crouch.
“I’m sorry. But I had to—”
“I know,” she said, her face softening. “Thank you.”
He was sorely tempted to pull her into his arms and kiss her, but that would have to wait. “Let see if there’s a back way out.”
The alley behind the store led to a warren of thrown-together shacks. Here the smell of death was even stronger than in the streets, as most had chosen to live their final hours in the place they had called home.
As difficult as it was to make their way through the slum, when Sanjay and Kusum exited the other side, they found themselves only two blocks from their destination. They hustled across a darkened part of the street, and up into a building Sanjay hoped would give them a view into the Pishon Chem compound. His plan, however, hadn’t taken into consideration that the door to the roof at the top of the stairwell would be chained closed.
“Let’s try one of the apartments,” Kusum suggested. “The view should be nearly as good from there, yes?”
“I hope so.”
They went down one landing and entered the top floor of the building. The apartments to the left were the ones they were interested in. There were fourteen doors on that side. One by one they began trying them. Number eight was unlocked.
Sanjay pulled the top of his shirt over his mouth and nose, sure that once he pushed the door open, they’d be greeted by the familiar putrid smell. When Kusum was ready, he gave the handle a shove.
“I don’t think anyone is here,” he said as he lowered his shirt. While the air inside was stuffy and stale, it was thankfully free of death.
Together they made a quick search of the apartment. Not only was it unoccupied, there was no sign that whoever had lived in the flat had made a run for safety. Everything was neat and in its place. It was as if the person had been out when the plague started and never come home.
With the place secure, Sanjay stepped over to the window of the main living area. Kusum followed right behind him. She had been right. The apartment was high enough to see over the buildings on the next street and into the compound.
The place was lit up with the same bright white floodlights that had been used when Sanjay and the others had worked there. What was different was the United Nations flag flying high above the administration building, and the white-helmeted, blue-uniformed soldiers stationed at various points in the compound.
The staging area Pishon Chem had used to distribute the spray tanks full of the virus had been clear of the former equipment and turned into two areas, each surrounded by double fences, separated by a gap large enough to drive a couple of trucks through side by side. Both areas contained a long building at the far end. While the zone on the left appeared empty, two people were standing outside the building in the zone on the right.
“Those look like prisons to me,” Kusum said. “Are they locking people up?”
Sanjay traced the fences with his eyes until he found the gates. He couldn’t tell from here if they were locked, but they were definitely closed. “I’m not sure what they are doing,” he said.
He turned his attention to a group of men standing near the administration building. Unlike the others walking around outside the fenced areas, these men were not in uniform.
Studying them, he was drawn to the way one of the men was standing. It seemed familiar. Unfortunately, he was too far away to get a fix on the man’s face so couldn’t make the connection.
He scanned around, moving his gaze away from the compound to the street that ran just outside it.
After a moment, he said to Kusum, “Stay here. I will be back.”
“Where do you think you are going?”
“I need to get a closer look.”
“Then I am coming with you.”
“No. You are staying here. If you are with me, it will be easier for us to be spotted.”
“If you get into trouble, you may need my help,” she countered.
“Kusum, I am not trying to argue with you. But I can make the trip faster and react quicker if I am alone. Please tell me you understand.”
From her expression, he wasn’t sure if she did, but she said, “If you are not back in fifteen minutes, I will come look for you.”
“Make it twenty.”
“Fifteen.”
He blew out an exasperated breath. “Fine. Fifteen. But it does not start until I leave this building.”
When it was finally agreed, he gave her that kiss he’d wanted to give her earlier, and headed out the door.
Back on the street, he threaded his way over to the rear of a structure directly across the road from the compound’s administration building. Instead of trying to find a way in, he climbed a drainpipe affixed to the outer wall, all the way to the roof.
His new position was not as high as the apartment where he’d left Kusum, so he only had a partial view of the men he’d spotted. But he was close enough now that he could make out their faces.
He had hoped his doubts would be unfounded, that he’d find this was indeed a UN operation. But instead, Sanjay’s fear turned out to be true.
The man with the familiar stance was Mr. Dettling, one of the Pishon Chem managers Sanjay had worked with, and most decidedly not a member of the UN. Dettling’s wasn’t the only familiar face, either. Gathered with him were several other Pishon managers.
When he’d seen enough, he climbed off the building and returned to Kusum.
“Could you see anything?” she asked.
“They are not the UN,” he told her.
She stared at him for a moment. “Are you sure?”
As concisely as possible, he described what he’d seen. “There is no question. They are the same people who had us distribute the flu.”
“Why are they doing this, then? Why are they saying they are the UN?”
“Whatever the reason, it can’t be good.”
She glanced at the window. “The people inside those fences. Do you…do you think maybe they’re ones who came here for help?”
He paused, then nodded. “I think very likely.”
“What are they going to do to them?”
“That, I do not know.”
Kusum put a hand on her husband’s arm. “Sanjay. Are they going to kill them?”
He said nothing.
“If they are, we can’t let that happen,” she said.
“No, we can’t.”
Four
MONTANA
10:44 AM MOUNTAIN STANDARD TIME (MST)
A BITTER, COLD wind cut through the air, stinging Daniel Ash’s cheeks as he gingerly climbed out the open hatch. Above, low gray clouds pushed in over the valley as if they couldn’t fill the sky fast enough, the storm a lot closer than he had thought.
Josie Ash leaned down over the tunnel exit and grabbed her father’s arm. “Let me help you.”
“I’m fine, honey,” he said, though that was far from the truth.
Ignoring his response, Josie guided him up the final rung of the ladder and onto solid ground. Once Ash was out of the way, Dr. Gardiner came up next, then Lily Franklin, and finally Chloe.
With the Bunker now empty, the hatch to the tunnel was shut and quickly covered by a few feet of dirt, some pine needles and branches, and a top layer of snow. When the job was done, it was almost impossible to tell anything was buried there.
“You all right?” Ash asked Matt. They’d been standing to the side, watching the others work—or at least Ash had been watching. Matt had been staring into the trees, lost in thought.
A few seconds passed before Matt pulled himself back and looked at Ash. “Sorry. Yeah, I’m fine. Just glad to be getting on the road.”
Ash glanced up at the sky. “If you want my opinion, we’re cutting it pretty tight. We could have gone yesterday.”
The right corner of Matt’s mouth ticked up. “Not according to the good doctor. Hell, he didn’t even want to leave today. Said you needed
more time.”
“I’m good,” Ash said. “Don’t worry about me.” The truth was, Ash was grateful for the extra night’s rest. He nodded his chin in the direction of the hatch. “So are you going to destroy it?” Like the Lodge had been, the Bunker was wired for self-destruction.
“Not yet. I guess…I guess I’m hoping we’ll be able to come back.”
Ash could understand that. The Ranch had been Matt’s home for a long time.
Matt rubbed his hands together. “No sense in waiting around here any longer,” he said, then raised his voice. “All right, everyone, load ’em up.”
They made their way over to the road, where four military-issue, light-armored Humvees they’d appropriated from Malmstrom Air Force Base in Great Falls stood waiting, engines idling.
“We’re in number two,” Chloe told Ash.
Ash trudged over and climbed into the back, finding his son Brandon inside. “How you doing, buddy?”
“I can sit on the floor if you need this seat,” Brandon said, already starting to move.
“No, no. Stay. There’s plenty for all of us.”
“You sure?”
“I’m sure,” Ash said, taking the seat across from his son.
Both Brandon and Josie had become ultra protective of him since the explosion that had nearly killed him. While a part of him was touched by their attention, he knew this wasn’t the way things should be. He was the parent. He should worry about them, not the other way around. But the world was a different place now, forcing his kids to grow up way too quickly.
Josie and Lily entered through the far back, taking the jump seats there, while Chloe climbed into the driver’s seat, and the doctor into the one beside her. Before Gardiner could close his door, Matt stuck his head in.
“All right there? Need anything?” Matt asked.
“All good,” Ash replied.
“You need us to stop for any reason, have the doc or Chloe radio us.”
“Sure.”
Matt patted the outside of the truck with his hand. “Safe trip, everyone.”
AMUND RINGNES ISLAND
12:04 PM CST
FOR THE FIRST time in over a week, Rich “Pax” Paxton could see clear sky. Given how far north the research station was, where he and his team had holed up, the sky was more twilight than the bright, sunny noon he preferred, but it was definitely clear.
They had come to the island searching for Bluebird, the headquarters of Project Eden, but had discovered it wasn’t there. Which meant Bluebird had to be on Yanok Island, the island Captain Ash and his team had gone to investigate.
Pax had no idea what had happened since then. They had been unable to reach anyone on the radio, and the storm had damaged the facilities’ satellite equipment, knocking out phone and Internet services.
The door to the observation room opened and Brian Darnell—Dr. Brian Darnell, as the man was fond of reminding Pax—entered. Darnell was the station’s director, and would have undoubtedly put Pax and his team in a holding cell when they’d shown up at his door if the place had had one.
For the first two days, Pax’s explanation for why they were there was greeted with skepticism at best. He didn’t let up, however, and told them over and over about the plot by Project Eden, what was really in the shipping containers that had been spread around the world, and what would happen if the attempted genocide wasn’t stopped.
Yes, Darnell and the other researchers at the facility had heard about the containers, but the man wouldn’t even consider that they could be part of something so heinous, and had not believed a word of Pax’s story. So, with little choice, the two groups had settled into an uneasy coexistence while the storm continued to rage outside.
“Mr. Paxton,” Darnell said.
“Doctor.”
“I wanted to inform you that I sent my technicians out a little while ago to repair the satellite damage. I’m told that communications should be back up at any time.”
“Glad to hear it,” Pax said. He was desperate to find out if Ash had been able to stop Project Eden from implementing its horrifying plan.
“Perhaps you shouldn’t be. Just so you know, my first call will be to the police. I’m confident the RCMP will send officers here to arrest you and take you in for questioning.”
“If the Mounties are still around and want to arrest us, we’ll be happy to go.”
Darnell stared at him for several seconds. “Still sticking to your ridiculous story, I see.”
Pax shrugged.
“I don’t know what you’re trying to do, or why you are really here, but—”
The walkie-talkie clipped to Darnell’s belt chirped.
“Dr. Darnell to the communications room. Dr. Darnell to the communications room.”
He detached the radio and pushed the talk button. “On my way.” To Pax, he said, “I guess it’s time.”
“Mind if I join you?”
“I insist.”
The station was a series of mobile home-sized structures, some positioned right next to each other, some set a little farther apart and connected to the others via fully enclosed and insulated passageways. The communications room was located in one such solo building at the south end of the base near a hill. The rise did double duty, playing home to the radio antennas near the summit, and providing shelter from the winds for the satellite dishes at its base—something it failed to do during the storm.
Two people, both station personnel, were in the room when Darnell and Pax arrived.
“So, are we up?” Darnell asked.
Frances Bourgeois, the head communications officer, glanced over from a desk covered with computer equipment and monitors. “Syncing with the satellite now. Give me a moment.” She typed something on her keyboard before studying one of the monitors and then nodding. “There we go. Connection’s strong. We’re up and running.”
Darnell made a point of looking at Pax as he said, “Excellent.” He walked over to Frances’s desk and picked up the headset sitting there. “We should check in first. Call the university.”
Frances typed again. When she finished, Darnell stood at near attention as he focused on the call. After several seconds, he looked confused.
“All I’m getting is ringing,” he said. “Are you sure you dialed that correctly?”
Frances checked the number. “I did, but I can try again.”
“Do it.”
His bewilderment only deepened the second time.
“It is New Year’s Eve,” James Faber, the other person present, said.
Darnell considered this for a second. “Of course.” Looking back at Frances, he said, “Put me through to the RCMP in Ottawa.”
This time as he listened, he looked stunned.
“What is it?” Frances asked.
Darnell licked his lips nervously as he shot a quick glance at Pax. “Put it on speaker,” he said.
A second later, a voice streamed out of the speakers next to the monitor. “—home, and until services are restored, avoid all contact.” The voice was female, her message clearly recorded. “Good luck, and may God be with you.”
“What the hell is she talking about?” Faber asked.
Darnell held up a hand, silencing him.
There was a moment of dead air before the woman began speaking again. “You have reached the Royal Canadian Mounted Police. Due to the Sage Flu crisis, there is no one able to take your call. If you are ill, remain where you are. Do not attempt to go to the hospital or any other medical facility. All facilities are currently closed to any new patients. You would do best to remain in bed, drink as much fluid as possible, and…”—she paused—“…pray. If you are unaffected at this time, stay in your home, and until services are restored, avoid all contact. Good luck, and may God be with you.”
Pax closed his eyes, his chin falling to his chest. Captain Ash had failed. They had all failed. The very thing the Resistance had been formed to prevent had happened.
The woman’s voice
filled the room again. “You have reached the Royal—”
“That’s enough,” Darnell said.
Frances touched her keyboard and plunged the room into silence.
“You have Internet access now?” Pax asked her.
“We should.”
As she started to type, Pax, Darnell, and Faber crowded around behind her. The first few websites she tried kicked back the message:
WEBSITE SERVER NOT RESPONDING
CNN.com, however, was working. Just below the standard banner at the top was a large, sunlit picture of Times Square. Pax figured it had been taken near midday. The buildings were decked out in holiday fare, and the electronic billboards displayed mainly Christmas ads and messages. Which made the fact that the streets and sidewalks were empty all the more eerie.
Across the picture in red, semi-transparent capital letters was the word PANDEMIC.
“Holy shit,” Faber said.
Frances leaned toward the screen. “This hasn’t been updated in over a week.” She looked back at her boss. “How is that possible?”
“Check the CBC or PCN or Fox or MSNBC. All of them, if you have to.”
She did, but the few that were still up displayed similar messages to CNN’s.
For the first time since they’d been listening to the RCMP message, Darnell looked at Pax. “You were telling the truth.”
“I was.”
Silence.
“They’re all dead? Everyone?”
“Not everyone,” Pax said.
“But most?” Frances asked.
“If not yet, soon.”
The room grew quiet.
Darnell finally broke the silence. “What happens now?”
Before Pax could answer, Faber, barely able to control his emotions, said, “What happens now? Now we’re all going to die is what happens! Either we stay here and freeze to death, or go home and die from the flu.” He looked at Pax. “Right?”
“That’s one option,” Pax said. “But there is another.”
“What?” Faber asked. “Kill ourselves?”
“I mentioned it when I first told you what was going on.”
The Project Eden Thrillers Box Set 2: Books 4 - 6 (Ashes, Eden Rising, & Dream Sky) Page 28
