by Bobby Akart
At the designated launch time, the five keys would be turned simultaneously, sending five signals, or votes, to three missiles within their facility. Refusal to turn the key by any three of the officers would not stop the launch, as it only took two of the members of the ICBM crew to carry out the order.
Captain Miller and his men waited. The digital clock was excruciatingly slow. Palms were sweaty. Tears could be seen streaming from one of the men’s eyes. Their breathing was fast and shallow. Once the keys were turned, there was no way to stop the launch sequence. All eyes were on Captain Miller as he nodded.
It was 12:12 a.m.
Chapter 63
Day Seventy-Six
Deserted Airstrip
Northwest Kurdistan in Iraq
Hassan said his good-byes to the caliph, al-Baghdadi, and left in the middle of the night to make the twenty-two-mile, six-hour trek through the Qandil Mountains to the airstrip on the Iraqi side of the border with Iran. The two close friends had confidence in their plan but were also realistic in terms of their ability to survive the coming war. Al-Baghdadi would remain in hiding, coordinating the effort with his trusted aides via a satellite communications network.
Hassan would travel by plane to Venezuela. He would then board one of seven ships that would approach the United States from Texas to Florida. Thousands of men would join him as they snuck onshore to reunite with the many thousands of jihadists, both Middle Eastern and radicalized Americans.
The plane was in the final stages of being loaded and Hassan took a moment to look toward the west where the Qandil Mountains rose out of the desert. To the north and south, the vast deserted landscape stretched in all directions as the land claimed by the Islamic State. He wondered if he’d ever set foot in the desert again.
One of his top lieutenants waved for Hassan to board the plane, so he symbolically nodded to his former home and thought of the fight ahead.
A flash of light from above caught his attention, followed by the roar of a rocket. In less than a second, four hundred trillion calories of energy were released over the Qandil Mountains, where he had slept just eight hours ago. The intense light blinded his vision, forcing him to raise his arm to shield his eyes until they were able to adjust.
At the point of impact, the surrounding air was superheated and created a rapidly expanding fireball. The air within and around the fireball was compressed into a luminous blast wave of enormous power.
Hassan stared in disbelief as the fireball extended more than a mile in diameter, seemingly coming directly toward him. At the point of impact, the temperature rose to two hundred million degrees Fahrenheit, four times the temperature found at the sun’s core, incinerating everything within eight miles.
The unearthly release of heat and energy produced a result of unimaginable lethality, igniting extensive fires for many square miles while the blast wave crushed and tore apart any structures in its path. The concussive impact of the massive ordnance would collapse any caves or crevices within the targeted area, burying alive all of its occupants, including the caliph, al-Baghdadi.
As the seven-hundred-mile-per-hour winds blasted away from the impact point, Hassan ran for the airplane. He stumbled as he ran up the stairs due to the incredible fear overtaking his motor functions.
The plane began to move before the door was closed behind him. He raced for a seat and pressed his nose to the glass. The smoke and mushroom cloud, seething with radioactivity, rose into the sky and blotted out the rising sun. Deadly radioactive fallout would contaminate a large swath of Iran, including some areas outside of Tehran. People who’d survived the plague would now be doomed to painful, vicious deaths from radiation sickness and the resulting cancer, leukemia, and genetic damage for generations.
The sound of weeping spread throughout the aircraft as it lifted off the runway and headed toward the west. Hassan did not weep, as he and al-Baghdadi had made their peace that morning. After a few minutes in which his brothers paid their respects, Hassan asked to be left alone to his thoughts and prayer.
Actually, what Hassan did was look out into a new world and smile. He would be bestowed with the honor and power as the next caliph.
Chapter 64
Day Seventy-Six
The Quarantine House
Quandary Peak
“Hey, Tommy, good morning!” said Barb with a raised voice. Tommy had been sleeping with the windows open at night despite the evening temperatures dipping into the low forties. His stated reason was he liked the cool, crisp air. Barb presumed he was trying to forget about the fever he was probably experiencing. “I made blueberry muffins this morning and I brought a Thermos of hot coffee, extra black to get the blood flowin’!”
Barb immediately regretted the choice of words when the sound of a lamp being knocked off a living room side table could be heard, followed by Tommy stumbling through the front door, covered in blood, shocking her.
“Tommy!” she screamed. “Oh my! Janie! Help!”
“Barb, I was doing fine and then I woke up like this,” said Tommy, followed by a groan. “It can’t be happening already.”
He slumped against the door jamb and tried to wipe the blood off his chin. He had a coughing fit, which propelled blood across the porch surface. Flatus was barking in the background.
Janie raced to Barb’s side and gasped.
“Janie, it’s started early. We don’t have much time. Tell Mac. We’ve got to do the best we can. Hurry!”
Janie set down her rifle and bolted up the hill toward the house. Barb turned her attention to her husband. “Tommy, don’t move. You understand me?”
“No,” he moaned. “I’ll be all right. Really. It’s just this danged cough.” He entered into another coughing fit, which brought up more mucus through his throat and sinuses.
Barb didn’t hesitate as she ran around the house to the screened porch. She squeezed herself into Janie’s PPE, leaving the taller set for Mac when she arrived. She made her way through the master bath and found Flatus walking back and forth by the closed bedroom door. Fortunately, Tommy must have pulled it closed as he staggered out of the room.
“Tommy, hold on! I’ve got to take care of Flatus.”
“Okay.”
She secured the leash on the collar of the rambunctious Labrador and took him into the kitchen, where she closed him in with some food. She also tied his leash off to the breakfast room table to keep him secured while she attended to Tommy.
He’d made it to his feet and was using the walls as support to enter the living room. He cupped his other hand under his chin to prevent blood from hitting the floor, not realizing that he’d left a trail from the bedroom earlier.
“Barb, no. What are you doing in here?”
“I’m here to take care of my husband, that’s what. Now come on and don’t give me any trouble. Remember rule number one of hospital care—don’t piss off the nurse.”
“Yes, ma’am,” said Tommy with a chuckle. The loving, old married couple always found a way to use humor to get them through the difficult challenges they faced. In this moment, as they faced the last moments of Tommy’s life, humor would carry them through it as well.
First, Barb propped him up in a leather recliner in the living room, where she could remove his bloodied clothes. She found several washcloths in the bathroom and wiped him down with cool water. She didn’t have to check his temperature with a thermometer to know he was burning up with fever.
She retrieved a set of olive drab green sweats from the dresser, which were Tommy’s favorites. She’d bought them for him years ago at Fort Detrick when he’d become covered in mud changing a flat tire. The ensemble was now his favorite loungewear during the cold winter evenings around the house.
“You sit tight while I change the sheets,” said Barb, who handed him a bottle of water. “And drink this. You have to stay hydrated.”
She began to walk off and Tommy reached for her hand. “Wait. Let me see you.”
Barb hesita
ted, trying to remain unemotional as she prepared for the inevitable. Then she considered the importance of touching the one she loved, even if it was through her gloves. She pulled up a footstool and set it across from his chair. She grabbed both of his hands and squeezed.
“Tommy, you listen to me. This is not over. I will not allow this to be the end. Do you hear me?”
“No, not today, or even tomorrow. But, Barb, soon. Days.”
“Mac is coming to help. Do you believe in her? I do. We have to have hope.”
Tommy squeezed and lifted her hands to his face. She touched both his cheeks and straightened his silver gray hair. He closed his eyes to enjoy her touch.
“I’ve loved you from the moment I first saw you. I’ve cherished every moment of it, including this one. But I understand what’s happening and I’ve made peace with it. You should too. I don’t want to put too much pressure on Mac. She does enough of that on her own.”
“Okay, I agree. I do love you, so get used to seeing me in this space suit,” Barb said as she hoisted herself off the stool. “I only wish there was a seamstress to let out the backside. I’m afraid I might rip a hole in the butt, exposing all of my parts.”
Tommy started to chuckle, which caused him to cough a little. He used a washcloth to cover his mouth and immediately looked to see if any blood came out. It was clean. He showed it to Barb.
“See, I’m better already. Get me into bed and hook me up to those good drugs. Bypass the Advil or whatever that store-bought stuff was. I want the loopy medicine that made Marcus so comfortable. Just accept my apologies in advance if I mistake you for Rene Russo.” Rene Russo played a scientist in the 1995 movie titled Outbreak, which was based on Richard Preston’s book The Hot Zone.
“I’ll take that as a compliment,” said Barb with a laugh. “Come on, Dad, before your daughter sees you in such a state. She won’t believe it was a false alarm, but there’s no need to scare the bejesus out of her. I’ll change the sheets, clean up the porch, and then we’ll consider your medications.”
“Sounds good,” said Tommy as he lowered himself into a chair in the corner of the bedroom.
Barb scrambled to strip the bed and shoved the bloody evidence in the laundry room. She found some old bath towels and soaked them in a small plastic bucket with a mixture of bleach and water.
On the front porch, she monkey-mopped the decking by dragging the wet towels around using her feet. She poured the balance of the bleach water out and took the towels in to be washed. The washer was running and the bed was made in record time.
Tommy was getting tucked into the freshly installed bedding when they heard Mac’s voice from outside.
“Mom! Dad! I’m here!”
Chapter 65
Day Seventy-Six
The Quarantine House
Quandary Peak
With Janie’s help, Mac got dressed in her PPE and joined her parents in the bedroom. Other than the fact that Tommy was propped up on pillows in bed and her mother stood off to the side in her gear, nothing appeared to warrant the emergency bells that were rung.
“Daddy, are you okay?” inquired Mac with some hesitation. She scanned the room, looking for any signs that he’d become sick by vomiting. The room was clean.
“Oh, yeah. I had a little coughing fit when your mother arrived and she thought something was wrong. It was a false alarm.” In an effort to reinforce his lie, Tommy feigned a childlike cough into a washcloth and proved to Mac it wasn’t bloody. “See, it’s all good.”
“Mom?” Mac turned to her mother, who remained stoic in the corner.
“Yes, dear.”
“Mom, what’s going on?”
“Nothing, Mac. I missed your father and insisted upon coming inside to help strip the bed linens and do a load of wash. We’re gonna hang out for a while until he takes a nap.”
Mac was perplexed. Janie had described her mother as being panicked and her father as being so weak he collapsed on the porch. In her haste to retrieve Mac from the house, Janie hadn’t taken in any additional details.
“Well, okay. Janie thought, um. It doesn’t matter. Daddy, you need to get your rest, so take it easy, okay?”
“Of course, honey,” said Tommy. “Listen, while you’re here, would you mind hooking me up to that contraption over there? Your mom is a little skittish with needles and I don’t feel like being her experimental pincushion.” He pointed toward the IV stand and the tray of intravenous fluids.
“Are you in pain?” asked Mac.
“Nah, not really. But if I need anything, your mother knows what to inject. It’s just that I’ve lost my appetite a little. You know, I’ve been a little emotional after the boy’s death.”
Mac turned to retrieve the equipment and Tommy scrambled to wipe his forehead, face, and neck with a cool damp towel. By the time she turned around, he’d tucked it under the covers.
Mac hooked him up to the fluids and then gave instructions to her mother on how to inject the antibiotics and pain meds. She gave her father’s hand one more squeeze and then fist-bumped her mother’s.
“Okay, I love you, Daddy. I’m going back to the lab and check on my mouseketeers.”
“I love you too, honey. Tell Mickey hello!”
Mac entered the bathroom to decontaminate her suit. When she entered the screened porch, Janie was waiting for her. She helped Mac get out of the PPE and hung it on a hook to drip-dry.
“Mac,” started Janie, “I have to admit something to you. I was standing near the back window, eavesdropping.”
“You were?” asked Mac.
“Yes. Mac, they’re lying.”
“Oh, I know,” Mac said in a matter-of-fact tone. “Mom scrambled around like a CIA cleanup crew after a hit. I appreciate what they did, but it doesn’t change the timetable. Janie, we’re running out of time.”
Chapter 66
Day Seventy-Seven
Quandary Peak
It seems time only stands still when you’re impatiently waiting for something. During those moments in your life that you need a few extra minutes, the hands race angrily around the face of the clock, seemingly spinning out of control.
The day before, Mac hadn’t been fooled by her parents’ behavior. They were giving their best efforts to calm her and protect her from the first of many symptomatic episodes her father would have to endure.
She immediately returned to the lab and continued the process. She stayed there late into the night, watching for any signs of improvement in the first control animals since she’d switched over to deer mice. The first set of three were exhibiting the telltale signs, as had the others. However, the length of time from injection to noticeable symptoms was longer with the first set.
Mac was now into her fourth and fifth sets of test subjects, modifying the vancomycin concoction to reflect her prior results. She wanted to believe she was making real progress, but it was such a tedious process and there was no way to be sure yet.
Before she went down to visit her dad, Mac went ahead and prepared six vials of the most effective batch of the drug for use on tomorrow’s diseased mice. Day after day, she’d continue. She prayed her father could fight the disease on his own while she conducted more experiments.
A crash behind her startled Mac as she placed the vials in a small refrigerator. She turned to find Hunter sprawled out on the floor at the foot of the stairs. Mac walked over to the Plexiglas and asked if he was okay.
“Mac, it’s your father. He’s in trouble.”
“Hunter, be specific,” she said calmly.
“Janie was with him. She said to tell you his fever is one-oh-one. Difficulty breathing. Vomiting mixed with blood.”
Mac paced the floor. “When did it happen?”
“She said it was all of a sudden. He finally admitted that he had an episode yesterday as well. Mac, that means he’s two days into—”
“I knew it,” mumbled Mac. “Where’s Mom?”
“She was upstairs. She left to be with y
our father. What can I do to help?”
Mac paced the floor some more. She had to make a decision. She reached into the refrigerator and pulled out the same six vials of modified vancomycin intended for use the next day. She retrieved six syringes.
“Hunter, let me get decontaminated. I’m afraid it’s now or never.”
Chapter 67
Day Seventy-Seven
The Quarantine House
Quandary Peak
Mac entered the bedroom and found Janie standing by her father’s bedside. Flatus was lying perfectly still on the floor at the foot of the bed, but his eyes watched Mac’s every movement. Just outside the house, standing on a picnic table pushed up against the rear window of the bedroom, were her mom and Hunter.
“Hi, Daddy,” said Mac as she approached her father. Janie slid out of the way to give them more space.
“Honey, I’m sorry I lied to you yesterday. Janie said you saw right through it.”
“Sure did, Daddy. It’s okay. It doesn’t change anything. How are you feeling?”
Tommy tried to sit up against the headboard, but he didn’t have the strength. The extra effort caused him to cough, but he quickly covered his mouth with a towel. Out of habit, he inspected the results and showed Mac the blood.
“Second day in a row, after I wake up,” he said. “It’s moving into my chest. I feel like I can’t breathe. The chest pains have increased and I can’t seem to shake the chills.”
“I know, Daddy,” said Mac as she fought back tears. Her father had lost several pounds in the last week and looked completely drained of energy. It hurt her to the core. “I’ve been working on this daily. It’s the best I’ve got so far.”
