Followed East

by Andre Gonzalez

  Out on the main concourse, a teenage boy snuck into one of the concession stand kitchens to steal a couple of chef knives, and slashed everyone behind the counter before eventually making his way back out to slaughter more of the concertgoers waiting in line for a brisket sandwich. A couple of security guards were able to detain him after he had killed seven people, but the boy bit them on the arms, turning them into some sort of possessed zombies who started attacking the innocent bystanders watching with their phones out, recording the incident, and sharing it to several different websites within five minutes.

  By the end of the night, 1200 people had been killed or wounded, with another 300 sent to the hospital with serious injuries from being stampeded on by the panicked crowd. All of the madness had unfolded with only twenty minutes remaining of the concert.

  Twenty fucking minutes, Colonel Griffins thought, slamming his fists on his desk, sending a couple of pens rolling over the edge. Twenty minutes between 12,000 people going home after a fun night out, savoring a memory to last a lifetime. Instead they would all be haunted for the rest of their lives, horrified at the prospect of even stepping foot into another concert. Or they’d be dead, or worse.

  A full-on crisis was now brewing for The Crew, but Griffins didn’t know it yet. It was still too early to say for certain that this had been a job by the Exalls, but the possibility throbbed in the back of his mind, growing louder with each passing second. He thought back to a briefing he had once read from Susan, stating her certainty that one day the Exalls would find a way to advance how they spread their “infection” to others. Before, they had to find ways to get their blood injected into a human’s bloodstream, and they always seemed to do so. Colonel Griffins pulled up Susan’s report on his computer and scrolled through it until he found a specific passage that had haunted him since the first time he read it.

  The Exalls are continually looking for ways to improve their process for everything they do. We don’t know what drives them, but they are always evolving like their existence depends on it. They have advanced exponentially over the past decade, and it’s arrogant to think they won’t continue that over the next decade, and the decade after that. They move at a pace we cannot keep up with. We either have to prepare to increase our presence, put all hands on deck to increase our intelligence, or prepare for Plan D.

  Plan D, the two-ton elephant always sitting in the corner of the room. It was called Plan D, short for Doomsday, because that’s exactly what it was. If at least forty-five percent of the United States population was deemed to be at risk of an Exall infection, Plan D would execute an attack on the entire country, essentially bombing civilization while The Crew and higher government officials were protected in underground bunkers. The Crew would plan to revive the country’s population, having always kept men and women under the age of thirty to reproduce in case of this drastic emergency.

  Plan D seemed light years away still, but if this attack was confirmed as the Exalls, it would prove a drastic step in that direction. There had never been a massive public attack like this. Most Exall attacks occurred within small communities, and were much easier to contain. But this was a concert with 12,000 people as possible witnesses or victims, the videos on the internet spreading like a wildfire during the hottest of summers. The briefing lacked many details that Colonel Griffins needed. Were there others who were bitten and revived? Were they being contained and studied? What would a doctor do if they came across traces of the black blood belonging to Exalls?

  Please let this be a freak attack that has nothing to do with the Exalls. Please, God.

  Colonel Griffins recalled another discussion he once had with Susan, right in this same office. He stared at the empty seat across from his desk and imagined her sitting there, her silvery hair tied into a bun, her eyes watchful, hiding the decades of horror she had witnessed.

  “One day,” she had said, “There will be an attack that goes way above what we are equipped to handle. They advance at a rate roughly eight times faster than we can. We can’t keep up. It will be grisly, and potentially threaten the entire country. When the time comes, you have to think big.”

  Griffins snickered as he gawked at the empty seat. He just now realized that she had spoken in the future tense, assuming she wouldn’t be around to help when the time came. She had always shown a disturbing ability to sense what would come. Griffins always assumed it was because she studied the Exalls’ history and used the knowledge to predict the future—which he still believed. But he also felt that she had a sort of psychic ability to combine with her book smarts. It’s what made her the ultimate weapon for the Crew, and a strong reason she was never tangled in a mess until her final day alive.

  Did she know her death was coming that day? he wondered. The more he considered it, the more it seemed the event wouldn’t have caught her by surprise. Perhaps she knew she had to sacrifice herself in order to save her family—most importantly, Kyle. She was always ten steps ahead, somehow staying on a level playing field with the Exalls.

  “Getting captured was part of your plan,” Griffins said to the empty chair. “All so we could have the boy. But why?”

  Kyle had excelled in the training course and would be ready to take his test in the coming weeks, but he hadn’t yet displayed any of Susan’s freakishly successful abilities. As of now, he projected to be an above-average soldier with potential to be one of their best. There had to be more to it, but Griffins didn’t have time today to piece together the puzzle.

  Just as he was about to pick up his phone to call the head of intelligence, Grady himself came bursting into the colonel’s office.

  “Colonel Griffins,” Grady said through panting breath, clearly having just run across the building. “Have you read the briefing this morning?”

  “I was just finishing it. I take it you have something for me?”

  Grady plopped himself down in the chair while he gathered himself and the stack of papers he had tucked in his armpit. “The attack is confirmed as Exalls, but we have a bigger problem.”

  Griffins felt his stomach sink deep into his intestines. Whatever came out of Grady’s mouth next would surely warrant a visit to the Oval Office.

  “There were too many people infected by the Exall DNA, sir. We captured a couple of the victims from the bar massacre in Colorado, and found they were infected by a simple bite. Exalls no longer have to get creative to take control of humans. They can walk up to us and bite us anywhere on the flesh, and our bloodstream becomes infected within a minute. At that point, the Exalls have full control over any of those infected.”

  “Why are they still here, dammit?” Griffins slammed his fists on his desk again. He seemed to be doing that more lately. “I thought the next attack wasn’t coming for another twenty years at least, long after I’m gone.”

  “It’s the doctor and boy, sir. They never left, and they clearly don’t give a shit about the Exalls’ plans to strike us every three decades.”

  “What’s going on in Kansas City?”

  “We have some people in St. Louis who are on their way, should be landing in the next few minutes. They’ve already been watching the news, and word across the region is that this is some sort of zombie apocalypse. There have been dozens of witnesses saying they watched people biting each other at the concert, falling over, and getting back up to join in the attack. Our early reports suggest there are at least 200 new Exalls in that area, but we don’t know for sure because the ETD’s aren’t picking up anything. We can only see the old Exalls who were already there, the benign ones. All two of them in Kansas City.”

  “Jesus Christ.” Griffins buried his face into his hands and furiously rubbed his forehead. This was bordering on a state of emergency declaration, the first step before Plan D. The president would have to declare an emergency, and tell the people he was sending the National Guard. In reality it would be hundreds of Crew soldiers sent to execute any and all Exalls they came in contact with. “Let’s get some peopl
e to follow the peaceful Exalls that we know of. Surely the new ones will eventually flock to them, don’t you think?”

  “We have no reason to believe that is true. The peaceful Exalls either want no part of all the violence, or are just people who don’t know they’ve been infected with Exall blood.”

  “How the hell can they not know?” When someone became infected, their body temperature dropped drastically, their skin turned a shade of gray, even if slightly, and an unleashed rage filled them from the inside.

  “Homeless people, sir. They might feel sick, but have nowhere to go, so they just live on not knowing what’s wrong with them.”

  “I still want them tailed. We’re kidding ourselves if we don’t think the Exalls have been planting these ‘peaceful’ Exalls around the country for no reason. In fact, let’s go take one and bring them here.”

  “You know we can’t do that.”

  “Bullshit, it’s time.”

  “It’s in our bylaws to leave any peaceful Exalls alone.”

  “To hell with the bylaws. Those were written decades ago, and there isn’t even a reason for it. Kennedy wrote the original bylaws, and he was a damn hippie. Of course he wanted to keep peace with this species who comes and kills us every few decades.”

  “You’ll need presidential approval.”

  “I know the rules, Grady, I’m the colonel. Jesus Christ, were you the kid in school who reminded the teacher that the homework was due? I also have the authority to declare that we are under attack from the Exalls, granting me the power to execute any order related to the Exalls. Did you forget that rule?”

  “No, sir, I just—”

  “You just nothing. We’re under attack. You said it yourself that what happened last night was the Exalls. We’re at a point where the secret could get out to the general population. Then what?”

  “Plan D.”

  “Plan D is a last resort. You kids like to throw it around like it’s some sort of viable option. You do realize what that means right? Your own family will be wiped off the map. All of them, all your friends. The only family that is exempt is the First Family.” Grady frowned. “They don’t tell you that. Why would they? I personally think they should, and that’s why I don’t hesitate to tell Crew members that brutal truth. Maybe it would keep everyone working harder to prevent attacks like last night.”

  “There’s no way of preventing an attack like yesterday. How could we ever know they were going to do that?”

  “If our technology was working, it could have been stopped. What we need right now are the numbers. We need to know exactly how many Exalls are wandering around Kansas City. And Colorado, for that matter. We need to know how many others have been infected with their blood. And we need to prepare for a quarantine.”

  “Sir, a quarantine will make everyone suspicious – they’re already calling it a zombie attack.”

  “Well then, it’s a good thing zombies aren’t real. Let them believe that; we can’t let this spread beyond Kansas City. Now, as the head of intelligence, can you get me these numbers by the end of the day?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Good. Get to work, and get this Plan D shit out of your head.”

  Grady nodded before leaving the office with his tail between his legs.

  Griffins shook his head and returned to the briefing, knowing an inevitable war was looming with the Exalls.

  14

  Chapter 14

  Kyle sprinted through an obstacle course in between ducking, jumping, and diving. There was even a quick dip into a swimming pool where he soared through the twenty feet like a shortfin mako shark.

  The physical training had been the hardest trial, yet the most rewarding. His body begged for him to roll over and quit, but his mind kept pushing through the end. He had heard about the attacks in Colorado and Kansas City being tied to the Exalls, and couldn’t help but wonder if Brian was somehow involved. Or even possibly his grandmother. The more he learned about the Exalls, the more he doubted his grandmother was actually dead. They could have taken her body and injected their blood into it, bringing her back to life in the form of an old, gray-skinned woman. It was more likely they were studying her body, seeing as they had never captured anyone who worked with The Crew, but Kyle held his reservations.

  Today, however, was his final bootcamp-style drill with the obstacle course. He had excelled through it after weeks of gaining muscle and building his stamina and endurance. He never imagined his body could feel so strong, and start to show the chisel of a Grecian statue. But here he was in late July, feeling the best he ever had.

  “Wells!” Gerard shouted. He had watched Kyle complete the course from a watch tower twenty feet high. “Let’s call it a day. Come see me.”

  Kyle panted for breath, clasping his hands together behind his head, as he walked on the turf around the obstacle course that reminded him of the Ninja Warrior challenge they always showed on TV.

  Gerard climbed down the tower’s ladder and met Kyle at the base. “Good work today. How are you feeling?”

  “Tired, but good.”

  “That’s good. You look like a natural out there – your weight lifting has really paid off. I think we’re going to call it a wrap on the physical training for the time being. You’ll still have time in the gym to maintain your strength, but we won’t be doing any more of the obstacle or field training until we get closer to your final test.” Kyle stared at Gerard with a puzzled expression, unsure if he was in trouble or exceeding expectations. “We’re going to focus more on your mind. You’ll likely be ready to take your final test within the next couple weeks, and Colonel Griffins already has a special mission he’d like to assign you. It’s going to require you take huge strides forward in your mental strength, something that’s been your only real weakness so far.”

  “What kind of mission?”

  “I can’t go into those details—that’s something the colonel will have to do, and he probably won’t tell you until it’s time. So for now, you’ll be reporting directly to Dr. Barlowe. Have you met him yet?”

  “No, I don’t think so.” Kyle had briefly met what seemed like hundreds of people over the last few weeks, but that particular name didn’t stand out.

  “He’s a bit of a character,” Gerard said with a smirk. “But I suppose that’s the nature of the business when you’re one of the world’s top psychologists. I’m going to warn you: he’ll try to break your mind. So take everything he says during preparation very seriously and you won’t have any problems.”

  Kyle nodded, terrified at the concept of having his mind broken, whatever that was supposed to mean.

  “He’ll be ready for you tomorrow. You’ll meet in his office on the sixth floor and will likely be spending the next couple weeks in that room with him. You’ll have a new schedule delivered tonight to your room to reflect this new change.”

  “Thank you.” Kyle wanted to ask if there was a projected date for his inevitable final test, but he didn’t really want to know. The last thing he needed was a date circled on the calendar, pulling him closer to the next phase of his life where he would actually be a full-fledged member of The Crew.

  Gerard wished him a good rest of the day before parting ways.

  * * *

  Kyle hadn’t had a weekday afternoon free to himself since the first days of his life in the compound six weeks ago. It was only noon when Gerard had released him, and he wanted to spend the rest of the day doing something he had longed for, but hadn’t the chance to do. Sundays had been for resting, and Kyle struggled to get out of bed in time for breakfast.

  He had rushed back to his room, changed out of his training uniform in favor of his street clothes that seemed to never get used any more, and worked his way through the building to the front desk where Jack sat, staring mindlessly into the computer monitors.

  “Kyle Wells,” Jack said, perking up in his seat. “I haven’t seen you since your first day. How are things going in training?”

/>   Jack had the appearance of a man who could snap your spine in half with his bare hands, yet spoke and interacted with the gentleness of a nurse.

  “It’s going well, I think.”

  “I’d say so. You were a twig when I met you, and you already have guns for arms. Wait until you see your transformation after multiple months of our workout regimen.”

  Kyle chuckled nervously, not wanting to think of the physical training becoming more grueling than it already was.

  “Is there something I can do for you today?” Jack asked, his eyebrows raised.

  “Yes. I want to go out.” Kyle spoke like a nervous teenager asking his parents’ permission to hang out with his friends after school. He was still a teenager, but The Crew didn’t view him as such. He didn’t technically need permission to do anything on his free time, and the sudden realization made Kyle giddy with anticipation. Maybe his Sundays wouldn’t be wasted in bed moving forward, after all.

  “I can have a car ready to take you in five minutes. Where are you looking to go?”

  “Arlington National Cemetery.”

  “You going to visit your grandma?”

  Kyle nodded. She really had been a celebrity within this organization.

  “Very good. It’s a beautiful cemetery – I’d suggest you give a full walk around it. You can visit JFK’s grave, and see the changing of the guard at the Tomb of the Unknown Soldiers.”

  “I’ll be sure to take a look, thank you. I was only there for her funeral and wasn’t in the mood to walk around.”

  “Understandable. Is that the only place you’ll be going? We like to know how to schedule our drivers’ days.”

  “Yes, that’ll be my only stop today.”

  Kyle had visited the main attractions, the memorials and parks, during a walk around D.C. on his first free day. Once he got into more of a groove with his schedule, he’d plan to see more of the sights.

  “Perfect, I’ll arrange the car to pick you up right outside these door in just a few minutes. Let us know if you change your mind and want to go anywhere else. Here’s my number.”