He grunted a laugh and said, “You never get used to it.” He shoved his hands into his pockets. “So you’re the one who found the cat, huh?”
“Sorry about that.”
The cat had been a surprise to them all, Brandon keeping it under wraps until they’d been on the road for nearly half an hour. It had hissed a few times and so far was only letting the kids touch it.
“Well, we couldn’t very well leave it there, I guess,” Ash said.
She didn’t say anything. Because of her fall, she’d forgotten all about that cat. If she’d remembered, she could have been the one who brought it along.
“Brandon said you seemed to freeze up there.”
“Up where?” she asked, knowing perfectly well what he meant.
“Last night.”
She looked at the storage sheds sitting side by side at the back of the station lot. “It was cold. We were all freezing.”
“I don’t think that’s what he meant.”
She shrugged. “I don’t know what he was talking about.”
“He said you appeared to be staring at Ginny right before you slipped.”
“It was dark up there. Not sure how he could tell who was looking at who.”
“Well, I’ve noticed you’ve tried very hard not to look at her today.”
“Is there a point to this?”
“Only that I’m your friend, and you seem troubled, so that worries me.”
“Then let me ease your mind.” She pushed off the building. “I’m not troubled, so you don’t need to worry.”
Without waiting to hear what he had to say next, she started to walk away.
As she came around the building, Matt said, “Ah, there you are. Have you seen Ash?”
“Right here,” Ash said, rounding the corner behind Chloe.
“You guys have a minute? I’d like to talk to you.”
“I’d have to check my schedule,” Ash said, “but I could probably move some meetings around.”
“We’ll use my Humvee,” Matt said, not even cracking a smile.
ASH WAS THE last to climb into the vehicle.
“How are you both doing?” Matt asked, once they were all seated and the door was closed.
“Better than I was last week,” Ash said.
Matt looked at Chloe. It seemed to take her a moment before she realized he was waiting for her to respond.
“Uh, worse than I was last week.”
Matt studied them, as if assessing his next words. “I’m considering taking a little detour before heading to Nevada.”
“Detour where?” Ash asked.
“New Mexico.”
“I assume there’s a reason why.”
Another pause, briefer this time. “As you know, in the past, we were able to get some of our people placed inside Project Eden, to help us know what was going on.”
“Didn’t really do a lot of good, did it?” Chloe said.
It looked for a moment as if Matt would snap at her, but the tension in his face quickly disappeared and he sighed. “No, you’re right. It didn’t help us stop them before. But that could change now.”
“What do you mean?” Ash asked.
“Project Eden may have altered the course of human history, but I’ll be damned if I allow them to direct which way we go next. What you two did at Bluebird was a big step in that direction.”
“We failed at Bluebird,” Ash said.
“Yes, the virus was still released, but you eliminated the Project’s directorate, and that was not a failure. With the directorate gone, a new set of leaders should have been put in place.”
“What do you mean, should have?” Chloe asked. “They seem to still be operating pretty damn effectively.”
“The Project has always functioned under a group-leadership model, with one person acting as principal director,” Matt said. “This director is supposed to work in concert with the other directors. If it hadn’t been for this structure, they would have never made it this far. When it became apparent that the directorate at Bluebird was gone, procedures were put into motion to form a new directorate. Only, apparently, what happened is that the new principal director hijacked the process, and turned the set of directors below him into a rubber stamp committee.
“Right now, the bulk of the Project is operating exactly as planned. As soon as they have eliminated the survivors they feel are unnecessary, they’ll unite the remaining population and start the final phase—the next coming of man, if you will. But instead of the whole directorate deciding things, it will be just this one man.”
“A dictatorship,” Ash said.
“Exactly.” Matt frowned. “I’m not saying I’d be happier if a committee was running things. As long as Project Eden is in charge, it doesn’t matter to me who’s calling the shots.” He paused. “What does matter, though, is the opportunity this presents to us. What happened at Bluebird was a rare thing. Having the full directorate in the same facility at the same time was an act of arrogance. If they had lived through Implementation Day, we would have never seen them all in one place like that again. It made them vulnerable, and they paid the price.”
Ash saw where this was going. “A single leader has the same vulnerability, only constantly.”
“Yes, he does,” Matt said. “Hence the trip to New Mexico. One of our people inside was able to get us a message that the current principal director, a man named Perez, is operating out of a Project Eden facility near Las Cruces, New Mexico. I’m going there, and I’m taking him out.”
“But isn’t this the same problem?” Chloe asked. “If we get rid of him, won’t someone else take his place?”
“Possibly,” Matt said. “But it will be a big blow nonetheless, more so because he’s been operating so independently. And we need to start somewhere. After he’s gone, we’ll go after the next set of leaders and the next and the next. Each time we succeed, the Project becomes more unbalanced. They have already taken so much from us. We cannot let them rule the future.”
“You’re sure this Perez person is in New Mexico?” Ash asked.
“Absolutely.”
“How are we going to get in?” Ash asked. “We can’t just walk up and knock on the door.”
“There’s a way,” Matt said.
“What way?”
“It would be better if neither of you knew that.”
“Why not?” Ash asked.
Matt eyed them both. “Because when we reach southern Colorado, the two of you and the kids will head to Nevada.”
“The hell we will,” Chloe said. “If you’re going after the Project, I’m going, too.”
“I need people who can fight,” Matt said. “Not people I have to worry about because they’re already injured.”
“You need me.” Chloe glanced at Ash. “You need both of us.”
“Yes, I do,” Matt said. “But as you were, not like this.” He grimaced. “I know how much both of you have done, that you’ve both earned the right to be there. But be honest with yourselves. You’re going to be more of a burden than help, and you know it.”
“And you’re not going to be?” Chloe said, motioning to his bad knee.
“I have to be there,” he said. “You don’t.”
“Bullshit. You…I can…” She was so worked up, she looked like she was going to launch herself right at Matt and rip out his throat. Instead, she threw open the door and charged out of the truck.
Matt’s head drooped. “I’m sure you understand,” he said to Ash.
“Oh, I understand the reasoning, but your logic is flawed.”
“I just want—”
Ash cut him off. “Injured or not, when the mission is critical, you always want your best people with you, and you’ve got no one better than Chloe and me.” He leaned forward a few inches. “The fact that you don’t see that makes me very concerned for those who will be going with you.”
He opened the nearest door and piled out, his exit not quite as graceful as Chloe’s, bu
t his point made.
IT WAS ANOTHER seventy minutes before the snowplow driven by Hiller pulled into the gas station parking lot.
Matt was the first to greet him. “Any problems?”
“Not with the kid,” Hiller said. “He’s been out the whole time. But this thing…” He nodded his chin at the truck. “Not sure how much farther it can go.”
“We’ll leave it here, then.”
“What do you want me to do with Rick?”
“Let’s put him in Ash’s truck. At least when he comes to, his sister will be there.”
“Sure,” Hiller said. “I’ll get one of the other guys to help.”
“I can do it,” Matt told him.
Hiller looked unconvinced, but he headed back to the plow with Matt limping along behind him. Together they eased Rick out of the passenger seat. With one of the boy’s arms over each of their shoulders, they carried him toward the Humvee Ash and his family had been riding in. They were a little over halfway there when Matt saw Ginny running toward them, her eyes wide.
“Rick? Rick, oh my God!” As she neared, her steps faltered. “Rick?” She looked at Matt. “What’s wrong with him?”
“He’s sleeping, that’s all.”
“He looks sick. Is he sick?” she asked, panicked. Instead of backing away like most people would, she moved closer to her cousin.
“He’s not sick. He’s asleep.”
“Are you sure?”
“I’m sure,” he said. “Can you open the back door for us?”
With a nod, she hurried over to the Humvee and did as requested.
After Rick was situated and the doors were closed again, Matt turned to the others standing around. “Everyone load up. I’m hoping we can make it all the way to Denver before we stop for the night.”
He watched them walk off and climb into their vehicles. They were good people—great, even—all willing to do whatever needed to be done.
For how many of them, he wondered, would this be the last call to action?
Twenty
NB219
LAS CRUCES, NEW MEXICO
3:58 PM MST
PRIMARY DIRECTOR PEREZ read the report, his displeasure increasing with each word.
In Mumbai, India, someone had taken it upon himself or herself to release the survivors who had already shown up at the survival station by cutting holes in the detention-area fences. Perez’s initial question was why would anyone even consider doing this? The survival stations were places of refuge as far as anyone on the outside was concerned, and those in the holding areas would believe what they’d been told, that their confinement was merely a precaution designed to keep as many people alive as possible. No way any of them would want to leave prior to receiving the promised inoculation.
To Perez, this meant it had been an inside job.
Though not acknowledged to the Project Eden general membership, it had long been known among those in charge that some members were not quite as dedicated to the cause as everyone else. They were sympathetic to those outside the Project, willing to risk everything the Project stood for to avoid what they considered unnecessary deaths. Perez was sure the person who’d cut through the fences was one of these people, and that he or she was part of the Project personnel assigned to Mumbai.
When he finished reading, he called Claudia on the intercom. “Who’s the director in Mumbai?”
“Mr. Dettling.”
“Dettling?” he said. Perez was good with names, and had at least a passing knowledge of most of the people running Project operations around the world, but Dettling didn’t sound familiar.
“That’s Pishon Chem,” she reminded him.
Right. Pishon Chem.
There had been a problem there on Implementation Day. The previous senior manager, Herr…Schmidt, had died of complications from an injury he’d received. If Perez remembered correctly, the injury had occurred in the semi-chaos of a loading zone being used to distribute KV-27a to the unsuspecting men hired to spray the city with it. Schmitt had been punctured in the shoulder by a loose railing on one of the trucks or something like that. By the time anyone realized what had happened, he’d lost too much blood to be saved. Dettling had been the next man in seniority, and was immediately promoted.
“I want to talk to him. Right now.”
“Right away,” she said.
One minute later Perez’s phone rang.
“I have Mr. Dettling for you,” Claudia announced. “Center screen.”
“Put him through.”
The center monitor filled with a head shot of a tired-looking, middle-aged man with thinning hair.
“Principal Director,” Dettling said. “This is an honor. What is it I can do for you?”
“You can start by telling me what the hell is going on over there.”
Dettling hesitated. “I assume you mean the detainee issue.”
“Yes. The detainee issue.”
“Uh, um, most of those who had been housed in the infected enclosure were still within the compound so we’ve been able to round them up.”
“And the uninfected?”
“We’re, um, still looking for them.”
“How many have you reacquired so far?”
Another pause. “None yet, sir.”
“None? As in zero?”
“Yes, sir.”
Perez stared into the camera, letting an oppressive silence grow between them.
After several seconds, Dettling shifted nervously in his chair and said, “Sir, I promise you we will—”
“Have you caught the one responsible?”
“Not yet. I’m sure we’ll find him when we find the others.”
“And what makes you think that?”
Dettling’s eyebrows moved toward each other, his forehead wrinkling. “I’m, uh, not quite…I don’t know—”
“Why would you assume the person who cut through your fences is with the others and not still there in your compound?”
“Our compound? You mean, you think it could be one of the infected detainees?”
“Mr. Dettling, prove to me you’re not an idiot and tell me you are looking into your own personnel.”
“My personnel?” Dettling said. “You mean the Project people here?”
“It certainly wouldn’t be anyone where I am, would it?”
“Of course not. It’s just…I didn’t—”
“No, you didn’t, but now you will. Check them.”
“Yes, sir. Of course.”
The intercom buzzed. He hit the speaker button
“Sir,” Claudia said. “It’s time for your Madrid call.”
“All right,” Perez said. He hung up and looked back at the camera. “Mr. Dettling?”
“Yes, sir?”
“The next time we talk, you will tell me the mess is cleaned up.”
“Absolu—”
Perez hit the key that terminated the call.
Twenty-One
PASO ROBLES, CALIFORNIA
8:28 PM PST
AFTER RETRACING THEIR path back into the San Joaquin Valley, Martina and her friends headed north again on the I-5 until they reached Highway 58. Because of their experience with the man back on 166, they kept their speed down as they traveled through the mountains, and whenever they came to a blind turn, they slowed to almost a crawl. But there were no roadblocks this time. In fact, they saw very few cars at all.
By the time they reached the 101 freeway, the sun was nearing the horizon. Martina pushed her friends a little farther, but when they crossed into the Paso Robles city limits thirty minutes later, it was too dark to continue.
They found a motel just north of what appeared to be the local fairgrounds, and scrounged some food from a place called Margie’s Diner down the street before calling it a night.
“What do you think they’re doing?” Noreen asked, as they lay in their room waiting for sleep to take them.
“Who?” Martina said.
“Jilly and the others. I�
��ll bet the UN’s put them up in a nice place with hot meals and clean clothes and showers.”
“We’ve got a shower here,” Martina said. “And if you want clean clothes, we can stop at Target in the morning.”
“Not the same.”
Quiet for a moment.
“How many people do you think there are?” Riley asked. She and Martina were sharing a bed tonight.
“I don’t know,” Martina replied. “A hundred? Two hundred?”
“Maybe a thousand,” Riley said. “Can you imagine what it would be like to see a thousand people in one place right now? I’d love that.”
Silence again.
“Do you…do you think my dad and sister are there?” Riley asked.
“I hope so.” It wasn’t really an answer, but Martina didn’t want to tell her friend what she really thought.
This time the silence went on for several minutes, and Martina started to think she was the only one still awake.
Then Noreen whispered, “What’s going to happen?”
“We find Ben,” Martina said.
“No, I mean, you know, what’s going to happen? Next year. The year after that. The rest of our lives. What are we going to do?”
Martina was quiet for several moments before giving Noreen the only answer she could come up with.
“We live.”
ISABELLA ISAND, COSTA RICA
10:40 PM CST
WHEN THE RESORT had simply been a resort, the bar was where everyone gathered in the evenings. The nights had been filled with laughter and celebrations then—accounts and lawyers and managers in vacation mode, letting loose in ways they never did back home. Since those on the island had become isolated, there was little laughter and no celebrations, but attendance at the bar remained high.
Surprisingly, few abused the new open-bar policy, most choosing to have only a drink or two at most, and many none at all. It was simply the place where some people could pretend everything would be okay, while others could at least feel they weren’t alone. It was where many started their day, and most ended it.
Since the radio contact with the UN plane the day before, the mood of the residents gathered at the bar had turned hopeful. Soon the UN would bring them the vaccine, and everyone might be able to get off the island and look for loved ones who might have survived.
The Project Eden Thrillers Box Set 2: Books 4 - 6 (Ashes, Eden Rising, & Dream Sky) Page 43
