Extermination Day

by William Turnage

  Well that explained not seeing any dead bodies in the hallways. As for the lack of bodies at the airport and in the town, it was likely those people went to the hospital as soon as they could. Or perhaps with the late hour in a small town and a blizzard on the way, everyone left work early and just decided to stay home.

  “Now we get down to business. Agent, report!” Paulson said to one of the men at the terminals.

  “We’re patched in to NORAD, and we were just waiting for you to come out of quarantine, sir. General Rowan is on the line. And, Mr. President, I’m not an agent; I’m Chad Theobald, a civilian computer consultant working on congressional data encryption. I was on Air Force One to upgrade the servers.”

  “Thank you, Mr. Theobald. So you’re familiar with these systems?” Paulson asked, not really caring who the guy was, just that he could do the job and do it well.

  “Yes, sir, very much so.”

  “Excellent.” Paulson eyed the computer screen. “I’ll be taking this call privately. Is there somewhere I can talk?”

  After the bomb on the plane, he was still wary that there might be a traitor in their midst. It was unlikely that the spy survived the plane crash and the virus, but he wasn’t willing to take chances.

  “Sir, there’s a private presidential suite over here,” Demetrius said, gesturing toward an open door off to the side.

  “Secretary Farrow, you’re with me. Mr. Theobald, continue to monitor the situation outside and let me know if anything new pops up.”

  Paulson and Cameron walked into the private suite. It was no Oval Office, but was plush by secret-government-bunker standards. A holographic projector sat in the middle of a round table surrounded by comfortable leather chairs. Cameron and Paulson sat, and General Rowan popped up on the video feed. Despite the obviously long hours he’d put in, he still looked fresh and crisp in his full dress uniform. Of course the image could just be an avatar, which many folks used in video conversations. The avatars could look however the individual wanted them to look and would automatically follow the speech patterns and mannerisms of the speaker in order to appear lifelike.

  “General Rowan, we’ve been able to make it off Air Force One and into quarantine in the base at the Greenbrier. There are fourteen of us left alive, uninfected. Secretary Farrow is here with me. What new information do you have?”

  “Glad to see you’re both safe, Mr. President, Secretary Farrow, and I’m thankful that at least a handful of others made it as well. Let me first update you on a conversation I had with Dr. Bellany from the CDC. Their data and the extrapolating models indicate that ninety-nine point seven percent of the world’s population of roughly nine billion is already infected. Based on the concentrations in the air and water, that will move to ninety-nine point eight percent in the next forty-eight hours. The point-two percent not infected will be those of us underground, underwater, flying in airplanes, and because of the nature of the jet stream and air transport of the virus, remote locations like the Amazon, Saharan desert, polar regions, and Siberia will not have been hit yet. Based on the virulent nature of the virus, maybe only about point zero, zero, five percent of the infected population could be naturally immune, although I think that number may be much, much lower. In total, that’s about one point eight million people left alive on the entire planet after forty-eight hours. Without—”

  “Less than two million?” Pain stabbed through his leg as Paulson tried to rise to his feet, momentarily forgetting about his injury. “Are you fucking kidding me, General?” He banged on the table.

  “I’m sorry, sir. Yes, sir. Fewer than two million.” Rowan stared until Paulson sat again. “Should I continue?”

  “I want to say no, but you’d better tell us everything.”

  “Okay . . . Without specialized air filtering masks and water purification equipment, those remaining alive but not sealed off in protected areas will be exposed to the virus and die within the next several days.”

  “So it’s worse than we originally thought?” Cameron asked.

  “That’s what the data shows,” Rowan said, nodding.

  “Okay, General, we have to go with the data we have. Now what have you been able to find out about who’s behind this?”

  “We still haven’t been able to contact agents in the field to confirm death tolls in other countries. I have several computer experts here working on the validity of the videos and streams. So far they haven’t been able to find any anomalies to indicate that the videos have been modified in any way. They aren’t one hundred percent sure though, and I’m still unable to contact our best cyber ops guys.”

  “So basically we’re still flying blind,” Paulson retorted, disgusted at the lack of information. “What about the Chinese, have you talked to anyone over there yet?”

  “I was waiting for you, sir.”

  “Get me someone on the line then, General. I want to hear what they have to say.”

  “Yes, sir. Give me a minute.”

  The holographic image of General Rowan’s torso faded from view and Paulson was left staring at Secretary Farrow.

  “What do you think, Cameron? You know the Chinese well. Could they be behind this?”

  “As you know, relations between our countries have not been the greatest over the last few years, but I still don’t think that they would ever resort to this, this plague.” Cameron swung out his hand.

  “What about the leadership over there? They’ve had some strange changes at the top recently. New Party members moving into power, others falling by the wayside. Could some crackpot have taken power without our knowledge?”

  “Maybe,” Cameron said, thoughtfully, tipping his head toward the ceiling. “But we monitor them pretty closely and have intricate psychological profiles drawn up on all their leaders. None have been red-flagged as maniacal threats. But something like this virus requires time to be engineered; experiments run over years. It’s not like pushing a button and something blows up.”

  General Rowan’s torso popped back up on the holo.

  “Sir, the only person I’ve been able to contact is a general named Jung Wang. He claims to represent the Chinese government.”

  “What about Premier Chao Mang? Did you tell them that the President of the United States wanted to talk directly to him?”

  “I did, sir, but I couldn’t get past this general.”

  That wasn’t a good sign. If the Chinese premier wouldn’t even take his call during such an unprecedented crisis, then diplomacy was unlikely. Moments later a Chinese military official appeared on the video screen.

  “Sir, this is President Charles Paulson of the United States and I have Secretary of State Cameron Farrow here with me as well.” As Paulson spoke, the automatic translator delivered his words in Chinese. He decided it was best not to start out accusatory, but instead to treat the general with respect. “I’m sure you’ve experienced losses similar to what we’ve seen here in the United States. The Chinese people have our sympathy, and we’re here to provide assistance as best we can. I know we’ve had differences in the past, but now is the time to put those behind us and work together to solve this horrible tragedy that has befallen all of humanity. This is a threat not just to the Chinese people or to the American people, but to the entire world.”

  “Mr. President, this is General Jung Wang.” The voice came out almost instantly in English. The general was using a light-skinned, blond, blue-eyed avatar dressed in an elaborate Chinese military uniform. The handsome face of the avatar was nearly perfectly symmetrical, with young chiseled features. It had become popular for people to adopt what in their mind was the most attractive avatar they could find, even if the particular avatar looked nothing like them. Asians tended to go for more Western-looking avatars, which, for whatever reason, was the trendiest look right now.

  “Our government and our people are strong,” continued the Aryan General Wang. “We thank you for your offer of assistance, but we are confident that our scientists can devise a
vaccine for this horrible virus. We can work together as needed.”

  “General, have you been able to determine who may be behind this attack?”

  The avatar’s eyes widened in rage. “You have some nerve asking me that, Mr. President.”

  “Ah, what do you mean, General?” Paulson asked, surprised at such a strong reaction.

  “You know what the hell I mean. All of our analysis shows that the United States is the only one with the technological capability to pull off such an attack.”

  “But, General, all our people are dying. Why in the hell would we kill ourselves!” Paulson was livid.

  “Yes, so the video stream tells us.” The general stared right into the camera. “But as we both know, the streams have been hacked before. False videos and news reports are simple enough to make that Chinese schoolchildren can do it. For all we know, you stupid Americans are sitting there in the comfort of your homes while the Chinese people are being wiped off the face of the planet!” The general was screaming.

  “If anyone has hacked the Stream, it’s you, you dirty bastard!” Paulson was losing his temper now. He’d been through too much over the last few hours to contain his rage any longer. “Americans are dying. I just watched dozens of my own people cough up blood and guts and die in agony. Don’t you fucking try to tell me we’re behind this!”

  “General,” Farrow jumped in to try to calm the situation, “is there someone else we can speak with? Chao Mang perhaps?”

  “Chao Mang is dead,” Wang spat out. “As are millions of others. But don’t confuse this for weakness. China may be hurt, but we are still strong. We are an injured tiger that still has claws and teeth to rip your American flesh from its bone.”

  “You’re not going to rip any flesh from anything. Not on my watch,” Paulson replied coldly.

  Wang snorted. “I am prepared to use all means at my disposal to protect China.”

  Paulson wondered if that meant nuclear strikes.

  “Is that a threat, General?”

  “Take it however you want. Just let me tell you this, Mr. President. China will not go quietly into the night. But if we do fade from this earth, then the United States will go with us.”

  The video flicked off, and Paulson and Farrow were left with Wang's chilling threat.

  Chapter 11

  6:15 am local time, January 16, 2038

  Project Chronos

  Daniella Ruvstovski stood at the back of the elevator, the breach alarm echoing through the cavern below. She was exhausted but ready to hold her little baby girl Illiana. It was feeding time, and her baby daughter was upstairs in the daycare center. Little Illiana was only eleven months old, and had just recently started sleeping through the night. Daniella knew she’d be waking up hungry, crying, and screaming at any moment. Daniella needed to feed her. Work could wait. The thought of her baby girl crying all alone in the empty daycare tore her apart.

  Daniella had been working on Project Chronos for about a year, in the computer systems design area. The work was challenging and stimulating. She and her husband, Sergey, had immigrated from Russia about ten years ago on student visas and had since become permanent U.S. residents. Life in the United States had been good for them, much better than Russia, where poor economic conditions still pulled down the once great nation.

  She and Sergey had tried for years to have a child, and Illiana was their miracle baby, their little angel. Daniella loved her so much. Normally she wouldn’t have brought her to work so late, but Sergey was on the night shift at the hospital and their normal sitter was sick. Daniella had last breast feed her daughter just before the base locked down about eight p.m. the night before. This was in between her efforts to finish some programming on the system before the scheduled morning launch.

  She'd been working all night and was exhausted. Her feet felt like lead blocks as she shifted her weight anxiously in the rising elevator. One thing was certain; she never thought she’d be stuck underground. When they sealed the doors to the base to quarantine the area and prevent the so-called virus from coming down and infecting them, Daniella had been cut off from Illiana.

  When the reports of the horrible chaos and death around the world started to come in, she couldn’t believe it. So many dead.

  She understood computers very well. She'd learned all the ins and outs of complex systems and programming. She was also privy to all the programming and hacking tricks out there on the Stream. And she knew this so-called catastrophe was a trick.

  She knew what the Chinese were capable of. She’d seen the mastery of their video simulations and gaming technology. She knew they could hack the Stream and place fake videos out there to make it look like there was a killer virus and that millions were dying. But what was more likely, that everyone on the planet was dying from a virus or that the videos were all fake and part of a sabotage campaign or a hacker group’s sick joke?

  She'd spent the last eight hours pretending to work while actually hacking into the base security system. It was a complex, delicate process as the system was one of the most highly advanced in the world. But Daniella was determined. Eventually she had an access code and clearance override for the elevator to take her to the surface. Nothing would stand between her and Illiana.

  Daniella needed to get to the surface. She needed to get to the daycare center and make sure her daughter was okay. She wouldn’t be held hostage by some teenage hackers looking to screw with people’s lives. Her daughter would be waiting, probably awake and crying and definitely hungry.

  She could feel the panic and desperation start to build deep down inside her, panic she’d suppressed for the last few hours. Nothing would stop her from reaching Illiana. Nothing.

  #

  Jeff, Holly, Chen, and his staff bolted up the stairs from the conference room to the top of control tower to see what had set off the alarm breach. When they arrived in the control room, several other team members were huddled around a screen.

  “What’s going on?” Holly asked.

  “It seems one of our staff had a breakdown and is trying to get to the surface,” a young man at one of the control stations said. “Daniella Ruvstovski. She was talking last night about how she believed that none of the video images, none of the deaths, were real. About how the Chinese had the ability to alter the Stream and send false images as a form of sabotage.”

  “She also said that her baby was up there all alone and she needed to take care of her,” Jing Wei added.

  Max continued in a more urgent tone. “Her eleven-month-old baby was sleeping in the daycare on the ground floor level at the time of the lockdown. Daniella was caught down here when the quarantine doors closed. When I saw her a little while ago, she had a wildly desperate look in her eyes. But I didn’t think she would do this.”

  “Can she get to the surface?” Jeff asked.

  “She works in our systems design area,” Chen said. “A software expert. If there’s a way to override the lockdown, she’ll figure it out. And apparently she has.”

  “I have her on video; she’s in the elevator,” Howard said from in front of one of the computer screens. “I’ll put it on the main screen, and we can follow her. I’m trying to stop the elevator, but she patched in a manual override. I have no control over it.”

  “If she gets to the surface, will the virus travel down the elevator shaft and infect our air down here?” Jeff asked.

  “I’ve sealed the doors at this level,” Howard said. “The air within the elevator shaft will likely be contaminated, but it won’t get in here. At least I hope it won’t.” His face was pale.

  And he looked too unsure for Jeff’s peace of mind.

  He and the others watched Daniella stand patiently in the elevator as it sped to the surface. Jeff felt a deep sadness for her. He knew something of what she was feeling, but the love of a mother for her child went beyond anything he could fathom. She was doing what she felt was right, like any other person in this unprecedented time of crisis. There
’d been moments during the last few hours when he’d felt he was walking through a dream and that he was going to wake up any minute. And it was true that they’d seen nothing with their own eyes, only video feeds, which Jeff knew could be faked. Was the whole thing just an elaborate ruse? Nagging doubt tickled at the back of his mind.

  The elevator stopped at the ground floor a mile up and Daniella exited, walking silently down the corridor, still holding her bottle. They watched her from the hallway video feed and then the scene switched to the daycare.

  The walls of the daycare were painted with colorful cartoon characters and a mural of rainbows and flowers. Toys and games were stacked in nice orderly little piles on the side of the room. Several cribs were positioned along the back side, near a window. Nothing moved and everything was eerily quiet.

  Daniella walked in and called out, “Illiana? Illiana, Mommy’s here. Are you hungry, baby girl? I’ve got some milk for you.” She ran to the crib. When she got there she stopped and looked down. The camera showed only her back, at first relaxed and then rigid with tension. Her bag dropped to the floor with a muffled thud and she stood there, arms by her sides, shoulders slumping.

  A low keening came across the speakers, a sound that built until Daniella was wailing without pause. The sound of unrelenting loss.

  She reached down to the crib and pulled out the lifeless body of her baby girl, wrapped in a soft pink blanket, and cradled her, rocking slowly and smoothly as mothers do, as if to soothe her. As if to soothe them both.

  And then she turned and carried her daughter out of the room.

  “No, no, no,” she kept saying, weeping as she walked.

  Jeff’s heart went out to her. Needing to turn away, he focused on the others. Tears were falling down their cheeks.