The Project Eden Thrillers Box Set 1: Books 1 - 3 (Sick, Exit 9, & Pale Horse)

by Brett Battles

  She was right. After that, it was easy to pick out others. They spotted seven in all, stretching in what looked like a line blocking their path.

  “A fence?” she suggested.

  “Seems kind of low.”

  They walked through the wash, then up the embankment, finally stopping ten feet short of the first post Chloe had seen. Though it was hard to judge color in the darkness, Ash got the sense the pole had been painted to blend in with its surroundings. Why? There didn’t appear to be anything attached to it, or anything sitting on the flat top. It was just…a post.

  Chloe pulled out her flashlight and flicked it on.

  “Turn that off. Someone will see it,” he whispered.

  “Anyone who can see this probably watched us walk up the hill,” she told him, then pointed the light at the post.

  Instead of wood, it appeared to be fabricated out of a plastic-like material. Near the top, a thin slot ran all the way around the post with what looked like curved, tinted glass covering it.

  “Any idea what this is?” he asked.

  “Motion sensor?”

  “Could be,” he said. “Let’s see how far it goes.”

  They went approximately seventy-five feet to the right before the row of posts took a sharp left turn. As they followed the new section, the hill fell away and they were on level ground again. Three hundred feet this time, then another turn to the left.

  They’d gone twenty feet down this third part when Chloe touched Ash’s arm.

  “There it is,” she said.

  Ash had seen it, too.

  Land had been carved out of the hill across from them and leveled off. Built exactly in the center of this area was a one-story, commercial-style building with no visible windows. On a large concrete slab next to it were several satellite dishes.

  Exactly how Olivia had described NB7.

  From their current angle, they could only see the back and west side of the building. There were no cars visible, but given the helicopter that sat on another concrete pad closer to the front of the building, maybe cars weren’t necessary. The aircraft was big enough to probably carry up to ten people, not including the crew.

  There was a hundred feet between the line of posts and the building, or, as Ash saw it, a hundred feet between him and his children. They had to be there. It was the only possibility. To think otherwise would be pointless.

  He continued down, following the odd-looking fence until he could see the front of the building. There were still no windows, but there was a door, and in front of it sat two cars.

  He was contemplating walking all the way around to get a look at the east side of the building, the only part they hadn’t seen, when two people stepped out the door.

  “Get down, get down,” he whispered as he crouched into the brush.

  They watched the two men walk over to one of the sedans, get in, then drive toward the front of the property. Along that end was a traditional fence with a gate across the entrance road that opened automatically as the car neared. A few seconds later, the vehicle was heading down the half-asphalt, half-dirt road.

  That was a problem.

  Figure a mile and a half on a bad road would take them two to three minutes tops to reach the highway. If they turned right, no problem, but if they turned left, once they drove another thirty seconds, they’d pass Ash’s car parked suspiciously off the side of the road.

  So, two and a half minutes plus the time it took to call back to the building, and those inside would know someone was there. He and Chloe had to move before then.

  He was pretty sure the posts were motion detectors, perhaps triggered when something passed between them. But while breaking their invisible beam would betray his and Chloe’s presence, it would come as a surprise to those inside, and they would be on the defensive as opposed to being on the hunt because they’d been warned by their friends in the car.

  A hundred feet. In college, Ash could run the forty-yard dash in four-point-seven seconds. He’d been younger then, and in slightly better shape, but he thought he could still do it in five and a half. And forty yards would actually get him all the way to the front door. Even if there wasn’t any kind of delay before the alarm went off, he should still be able to get there before anyone inside had the time to react.

  “How fast can you run?” he asked Chloe.

  “Fast enough.”

  “Then that’s what we’re going to do.”

  He moved over to the imaginary line of the fence.

  “Wait,” she said. “What’s the plan?”

  “The plan? Get my kids back.”

  He put his head down, then started to run.

  Forty-Three

  THEIR NEW ROOM wasn’t that much different than their old one. There were two beds and a bathroom, just like before. The only difference this time was that the door was locked.

  Brandon knew the people watching over them had done something to put him and Josie to sleep before they switched rooms, but he had no idea why. The thought that the room they were now in was in an entirely different building in an entirely different state hadn’t even crossed his mind. He thought they were still on his dad’s base, just down the hall from the room they’d been in before.

  His biggest concern at the moment was his sister. She had yet to wake up. He, on the other hand, had been awake for at least a couple hours, maybe even more.

  The same guy who’d been bringing them food from the beginning had brought in dinner a while ago. He was the nice one, the guy who always smiled, and seemed to really care about them.

  When Brandon asked him if he knew why Josie was still asleep, the man had said, “Because she’s still getting over her illness.”

  That only made Brandon more worried. What if she was getting sick again? That happened sometimes, didn’t it? He was sure he’d heard that before. Would she be even sicker this time? Would she even…die?

  Thinking that terrified him. His mom and dad were already gone. What was he going to do if Josie wasn’t around, either? He’d have no one. No one at all.

  He sat on the edge of her bed, wiping her head with a damp towel from the bathroom. He didn’t think she had a fever, but he wanted to make sure it stayed that way.

  “It’s okay, Josie. I’m here.”

  Ten minutes later, he fell asleep beside to her.

  NB7 WAS NOT considered a high-priority location for project security. Its isolation was believed to be its best defense. That didn’t mean there wasn’t a security staff on hand, but it did mean other resources such as constant satellite observation were considered unnecessary. It was, by design after all, mainly a storage and backup shelter facility.

  What additional security the building did have consisted of a state-of-the-art motion sensor grid surrounding the perimeter, video surveillance along the road that led to the property, and a car recognition system set up on the highway.

  The way this last item worked was that cars traveling on the highway would trip an electronic beam twelve miles either to the South or to the North. This would trigger a hidden camera to take a picture of the car and its license plate, then, in a completely automated process, determine the make, model and year of the car. The vehicle would then be checked off when it crossed the opposite electronic eye on its way out of the area. There was leeway built in to the system to account for slower drivers, and for those who might stop to take a few pictures—something that happened more often than those at NB7 may have expected. But once these items were taken into consideration, if a car failed to trip the second beam in the allotted time frame, an alarm would be activated, and a team would be sent out to check.

  Just such an alarm went off at 12:58 a.m. for a 2009 Honda Accord with Florida license plates. It was probably nothing, the head of security thought. He bet the driver had just pulled to the side of the road to take a nap. That had happened, too.

  Still, protocol was to dispatch a team.

  So he did.

  DR. KARP WAS feeling part
icularly pleased with himself. He’d been in touch with his research team, and was told all indications were that the new vaccine would work exactly as they’d hoped.

  This was the fifth time they’d tested KV-27a, and only the first in which they’d run across someone with immunity. What a bonus that had been. They’d been working on a synthetic vaccine to that point and having multiple problems, but the blood running through the veins of Captain Ash and his children had proved most useful, and the previous problems quickly disappeared. Even the issue of how females versus males reacted was on the cusp of being solved.

  The doctor had all but given up hope that they’d find someone like the three surviving members of the Ash family. Between the tests in Tanzania, Bangladesh, Tajikistan, Alaska, Barker Flats, and the unintentional victims of what the media was calling the Sage Flu outbreak, there had been 3578 subjects, of which 3575 had died. That was a success rate of 99.9%, even better than their targeted goal of 99.85%. Which would mean there should be even fewer genetically immune survivors when the official implementation occurred, and thus making it easier for those survivors chosen by the project to control those chosen by nature.

  Of course, thinking like that was getting ahead of the game. There were still many obstacles to overcome. But his part was all but done. He was sure of it. Once the vaccine was in production, he could relax and act as consultant for the others as he waited for the great day.

  His most immediate task was the children. What he had to do wasn’t pleasant, but he was smart enough to understand this was not a task he could delegate. These children would be giving their lives so that he and the others could make things right. In many ways, they were as important to the future as he was. Well, almost.

  He would take care of them first thing in the morning before they woke—that would be best. Right now, he was content to let them have one more night of dreams.

  Why not? Everything was going so well. Even the outbreak in California had given them more data to back up his work.

  Yes, very well, indeed.

  Forty-Four

  “WHAT TIME IS it?” Tamara asked.

  Bobby turned the camera back on, its display screen lighting up their tiny room. It was the only clock they had. His cell phone was sitting on the editing console in the van, while hers was in her purse along with the wristwatch she had for work but seldom wore.

  “Eleven fifty-three,” he said.

  He switched the camera off to save its battery, plunging them back into darkness.

  Tamara dropped her chin to her chest. Eleven fifty-three p.m. They’d been in the truck’s secret compartment for over five hours. And who knew how much longer they’d have to stay?

  After the first ten minutes in the box had passed, she’d had a moment when she started to think that maybe Chavez was wrong, that maybe the soldiers weren’t there to kill them. But then an image of her brother’s face appeared in her mind. Gavin looked confused and unsure at first, then suddenly his eyes went wide and he started to scream. The bullet. It had been fired by one of the soldiers who were now chasing her.

  “Should…should we check?” Bobby had asked. “Maybe they’re gone.”

  “No,” she said quickly.

  Another silent minute went by, then, as if to confirm Tamara’s response, the sound of several boots running on asphalt could be heard approaching the truck, then stopping at the back.

  “Clear!” one voice called out.

  “Clear!” a second one chimed in.

  There was some scuffling around, then a new voice said, “Team one, recheck the buildings along that row. We’ll take these over here. They’ve got to be in one of them. Say whatever’s necessary to get them into the helicopter, but let’s get this done now.”

  Several voices replied, “Yes, sir,” then immediately there was the sound of at least half a dozen people running off.

  Say whatever’s necessary to get them into the helicopter…

  The words stuck in Tamara’s mind. Any lingering doubts that the soldiers just wanted to talk to them were gone.

  As the hours passed, they could hear groups of people running by the truck on five separate occasions. Whether they were the soldiers or not, it was impossible to tell, but it was more than enough to reinforce the idea she and Bobby were better off in their box than anywhere else.

  Then an hour passed with no one running by. It was the longest gap there’d been yet. Tamara hoped the others had finally left, and that the next sound she and Bobby heard would be the three knocks on the side of the truck, telling them it was safe to come out.

  But the night remained silent.

  “Why don’t you stretch out on the floor?” Bobby suggested in a whisper.

  Their hidey-hole was set up with cushion-topped metal boxes they could sit on at either end. In the boxes, as they’d found out by touch, were food and drink, and on the floor near Bobby’s side had been the pot for relieving themselves. So far both of them had been able to avoid the need to use it. Between the two metal makeshift seats was an area plenty long enough for either of them to lie down, just not both at the same time.

  “I’m fine,” she said softly. “You can use it.”

  “I know you’re not fine, because I’m not fine. Now get some rest. The sooner you’re done, the sooner I can lie down.”

  “Bobby, seriously. You can go first.”

  “Absolutely not. You first, or neither of us go.”

  Even though she knew he couldn’t see her, she rolled her eyes, but as soon as she lay on the floor, she was thankful he’d forced her to do it. She was completely drained. The time since they’d arrived outside the roadblock at Sage Springs seemed to have blurred into one long, living nightmare.

  “We probably lost our jobs,” she said as she closed her eyes.

  “They won’t fire us. They’ll make us stars. ‘The reporter and the cameraman forced into hiding by…’ ”

  “ ‘…a rogue military force,’ ” she finished for him.

  “Oh, that’s good. I like that.”

  They fell silent for a moment.

  “Who do you really think they are?” he asked.

  “I wish I knew.”

  He asked her another question a moment later, but though she could hear his voice, she couldn’t make out the words as exhaustion took over, and she fell into a deep sleep.

  Forty-Five

  THE LOW TONE of the motion sensor alarm suddenly pulsed out of the speaker in the security room right off the lobby at NB7. The head of security had been sitting at the monitoring desk, talking to one of his men. The moment the alarm went off he whirled his chair around and looked back at his computer.

  His first thought was that the two men he’d sent out to check for the missing car on the highway had somehow triggered the motion sensors.

  By the time he took a good look at the warning screen, six seconds had passed.

  Cameras covered the entire grounds, but there was no sense in constantly watching them since the system would alert security to any problems, at which point the video could be reviewed.

  Though he immediately saw the others weren’t there, the head of security wasn’t worried. They’d had these alarms in the past, and all had turned out to be animals wandering in from the desert. The beams were supposed to be elevated high enough to cut out this kind of false alarm, but it still happened.

  As he tapped the link to the video, he said, “Luke, go out front and check.”

  The other man got up from his chair and went into the lobby.

  By the time the head of security was looking at the video feed from the west side of the building, ten more seconds had gone by.

  There was nothing on the screen but the same monotonous desert he’d been looking at since he’d been assigned to this post. Apparently whatever had triggered the alarm had wandered back out. As he hit the button that would take the video back a full minute, he heard Luke open the front lobby door and go outside. He almost called out to stop him, but realized
he was too late.

  He shrugged—no big deal.

  Eight more seconds passed.

  The video started playing again. He watched in real time for several seconds, then tapped on fast-forward, making the footage go at double speed.

  Suddenly, he slapped the keyboard, pausing the image. “What the hell?”

  Just then, out in the lobby, the front door opened again.

  ASH DIDN’T HAVE a stopwatch, but he was pretty sure he reached the sidewalk near the front door in less than six seconds. Not as good as he hoped, but good enough. As he stopped, he looked back and saw that Chloe was still right behind him.

  The entrance was actually a double metal door that opened outward. It was taller than normal and a little bit wider, obviously designed to accommodate large items. There was a security card reader mounted on the wall next to the door, which was a pretty good sign that the door was locked.

  The wear marks indicated the right half of the door was the one used most. Ash moved over to the hinges, then pulled the box of little bangs out of his pocket. His intent was to use one of the white crackers along the edge, and hoped it was enough to blow the door loose. But just as he was lifting the lid off the box, the knob turned and the door swung out.

  There was no way Chloe could get out of sight, so she froze in place.

  The man who stepped through the doorway saw her immediately, but hesitated for a second, caught off guard. That was all the time Ash needed to put the barrel of his gun against the man’s back.

  “Nothing stupid, agreed?” Ash said, giving his gun a nudge.

  “You shouldn’t be here,” the guy said.

  “Is that a yes or a no?”

  “Sure. Nothing stupid.”

  “Good.” Ash glanced at Chloe. “Check him.”

  Chloe stared at the man, not moving.

  “You said you wanted to help,” Ash said.

  She took a breath, then nodded. She first took the man’s gun from the holster on his belt, then frisked him quickly as if he might explode at any second.