Dead America The First Week (Book 7): Portland

by Slaton, Derek

  “They’re in the middle of nowhere!” the President cried. “Have you ever driven through Kansas? It’s like god was creating a civilization for the ages, but ran out of building material after Wichita.”

  “Yes, I’ve driven through Kansas, Mister President,” John replied gently. “I’ve also looked at a map and can see that there are eight major cities within a couple hundred miles of where our troops are. There are already reports coming in that tens of thousands of zombies are finding their way out of Kansas City and Oklahoma City.”

  “Just yesterday there was a major conflict outside of Oklahoma City,” Adams piped up. “Took forty thousand troops the better part of a day to stem the tide. And that was only a fraction of the zombie population in the city.”

  “And that’s just one city,” John continued. “Imagine if Dallas, or Chicago, or Denver empty out and head towards the troops? Hell, imagine if all of them do? General, correct me if I’m wrong, but I’m guessing that our fighting men and women don’t have enough bullets to handle that kind of horde?”

  “Are there enough raw bullets?” Adams shrugged. “Perhaps. Is there enough manpower to handle multiple fronts with that level of zombie power? Absolutely not.”

  Williams sat back and sighed. “Okay, so the Heartland isn’t the answer. Where should they go?”

  “Texas is out, that’s for damn sure,” John replied.

  Adams nodded. “We’re going to need a place that has farmland.”

  “And oil,” Whitney added.

  “And that is geographically isolated,” John said.

  Adams leaned forward. “And as limited in population as possible.”

  “Well, that eliminates the entirety of the east coast,” Whitney said.

  “What about Florida?” Williams piped up. “Surrounded by water on three sides. They’d only have to defend the northern part of the state.”

  “That’s a great plan,” the redhead retorted, “until a hurricane comes.”

  The General raised a hand to soften the blow of the President’s idea shot down so brutally. “What about Arizona and Nevada? Limited population, access to some West Texas oil fields. Farmland may be an issue, but plenty of sun for greenhouses.”

  “Plus, who doesn’t like Vegas?” Williams rolled his eyes.

  “Too much of a risk of California emptying out and overrunning us.” John shook his head. “I mean, unless you want to pull a Lex Luthor and nuke the San Andreas Fault Line.”

  The President raised his hands. “If you could possibly come up with a solution that doesn’t involve me becoming a super-villain, I would greatly appreciate it.”

  “Oh, come on, Mister President, you’d look great bald.” John grinned.

  Williams ran a hand through his hair. “Might become a necessity when we run out of shampoo.”

  The men shared a laugh when Whitney shoved a map into the center of the table.

  “Seattle,” she said.

  There was an awkward silence before the President leaned forward and asked, “Come again?”

  “The answer is Seattle,” she repeated. “It’s more or less geographically isolated, with the Rockies on the east and the ocean on the west. Portland is a couple hours to the south, but with only one real path to get there. Vancouver is a bit of a concern since we wouldn’t want to get into a two-front war, but we could utilize our air superiority and take out the bridges in the city.”

  Williams blinked at her. “You want me to authorize a military strike on a foreign land?”

  “They’re Canada, what are they going to do?” Whitney shrugged. “Hell, they’ll probably apologize to us for being an inconvenience.” There was a chuckle, but she didn’t even crack a smile as she leaned over the map, pointing. “There’s access to oil, farmland, and we’ll have a port so our troops coming back from Asia will have a place to land.”

  The men sobered up and glanced at each other, nodding their heads.

  “Well done Whitney,” John said. “I believe you may have picked the invasion point.”

  “I commend your research, Miss Hill,” Williams added. “Do you happen to have any thoughts on how to move a quarter million troops from Kansas to the Pacific Northwest?”

  She bit her lip. “Still working on that one, Sir.”

  “This might be a good time to get General Stephens on the phone,” Adams piped up. “He’s in charge of the troops down there.”

  Williams leaned forward and pushed a button on the conference phone. “Vicky?” he asked.

  “Yes, Mister President?” she replied immediately.

  “Can you get General Stephens on the line for us?” the President asked. “He’s heading up our troops in Kansas.”

  “Yes sir,” Vicky replied. “I’ll call when I have him on the line.”

  “Thank you,” Williams said. “Looks like we have time for another cup of coffee.”

  CHAPTER THREE

  The quartet studied various reports, enjoying a second cup of hot brew that soothed them to their bones. They couldn’t help but ride the high of having something to plan for, something versatile and productive to do despite the situation of the world falling apart around them.

  The phone beeped and Williams tapped it.

  “Mister President, I have General Stephens on the line for you,” Vicky said.

  The President nodded. “Thank you,” he said. There was a click, and he cleared his throat. “General Stephens, this is President Williams.”

  “Sir,” Stephens replied.

  “I also have General Adams, top advisor John Teeter, and top researcher Whitney Hill,” the President added.

  “Gentlemen. Ma’am,” Stephens said.

  Williams set down his mug of coffee. “General, can you please give us an update on the ground there?”

  “Certainly, sir,” Stephens replied cordially. “The last twelve hours or so have been trying. A horde of nearly fifty thousand strong started migrating out of Oklahoma City, and another one about half that size has started coming out of Kansas City. We were able to move the necessary men around to stem the tide and both fronts are now pacified.”

  “General, is there any indication of other mass migrations of zombies towards your location?” Adams asked.

  “Negative, General,” Stephens confirmed. “Typically it’s a few hundred here and there, but nothing more widespread yet. That said, I do have significant manpower stationed on every major interstate and highway coming out of the large cities as a precaution. We should be fine for the moment, but if both of those cities empty out at once we might be in a bit of trouble.”

  “General, this is John Teeter,” John cut in. “We have assumed that might be the case, and have come up with a target destination for the troops under your command.”

  “Guessing it’s the Pacific Northwest?” Stephens replied, and the room fell silent.

  Whitney shook her head. “Seattle to be specific, but how did you know about that? We literally came up with the idea a minutes ago.”

  “Just made logical sense, as I’m sure you’ve already determined,” the General said. “Natural barriers, access to vital goods.”

  Williams leaned forward. “Well, since you seem to be a step ahead of us here, do you have any bright ideas on how to move a quarter million men halfway across the country?”

  “With the supply lines out of commission it’s unlikely there is enough fuel to travel via standard transport,” Whitney mused.

  “As a matter of fact, I do,” Stephens cut in. “Yesterday I sent a small scout team north to commandeer a train from the yards in North Platte. I heard from them a few hours ago, and they were having success charting a course north, clearing the way for us to use the remaining trains as a transport to the Northwest.”

  Williams blinked at the phone, and clapped his hands together. “General, I must say, I am impressed by your initiative. Do they have an ETA on clearing the path?”

  “It’s really hard to tell at this point, Mister President,” Step
hens replied. “It’s going to be dependent on what sort of human resistance they run into, and how many abandoned trains are clogging up the rail lines.”

  “Understood General,” Williams said. “But give me your best guess. I promise I won’t hold you to it.”

  Stephens paused for a moment. “Ballpark?” he finally said. “Seven to ten days. Once the route is clear, it will take less than a week to shift our assets to Seattle.”

  “Very good, General,” Williams said, and then looked around the table. “Does anybody have anything else?”

  Whitney leaned forward. “General Stephens?”

  “Yes, ma’am?” came the reply.

  “We have a loose plan in place to supply the civilian strongholds that have popped up around the country, mostly in small communities,” she explained. “We are going to require your assistance on this.”

  “What can I do, ma’am?” he asked.

  “I’m going to be working on the logistics once this meeting is concluded,” she assured him. “However, if you want to start finding long haul truckers with rigs, that will be a huge help. We’re also going to need two and three-man teams to accompany them for safety.”

  “Consider it done, ma’am,” Stephens assured her.

  Whitney nodded. “Thank you General, I’ll be in touch soon.”

  “Thank you, General,” Williams added.

  “Mister President,” Stephens replied, and then there was a click.

  “Adams, if I didn’t know any better, I’d say Stephens in gunning for your position,” the President teased.

  Adams barked a laugh. “Pretty sure the only reason he’s not in my position is because I have a few years on him. He’s a valuable asset and is going to do a lot of good.”

  There was a knock at the door.

  “Come in, Vicky,” Williams said.

  She poked her head in. “Mister President, we have a satellite uplink with our fleet in the Gulf of Mexico as you requested.”

  “Thank you Vicky, please patch them through,” he instructed, and she nodded before disappearing again.

  John raised an eyebrow. “Something special planned, Mister President?”

  “Yes,” Williams replied with a somber nod. “I requested that our head researcher give us an update on the virus.”

  CHAPTER FOUR

  “Hello?” Williams asked into the conference phone. “Who am I speaking with, please?”

  “Um…” a nervous young voice came back. “My name is Ben Jackson, sir.”

  “Hello Ben, this is President Williams,” he said formally. “I’m here with John Teeter, General Adams, and Whitney Hill.”

  Ben cleared his throat. “Hello, everyone.”

  “Ben, please don’t take this as an insult,” Williams said gently, “but you sound rather young to be heading up research on this virus.”

  “Yes, Mister President, I am young,” Ben replied, and cleared his throat again. When he spoke again, his voice was a little stronger. “I was a graduate student working under Doctor Alvison. On the day this nightmare began, we were brought the research direct from the bio-terrorist compound to analyze. I was subsequently tracked down and brought to this research ship to help the other scientists decipher what Doctor Alvison had discovered.”

  “Ben, this is John Teeter,” John cut in. “We all appreciate the work that you’ve done, and again please don’t take this the wrong way, but is there nobody with more experience heading up the research?”

  “Not on this vessel, sir,” Ben replied. “Or in the fleet for that matter. This is an extremely specialized area of research and there aren’t a lot of us going around. However, we have been able to reach a few experts who were evacuated to the football stadiums around the country. At the moment though, nobody has a fully functional lab set up. So for the time being, I’m all you’ve got.”

  There was a moment of awkward silence until Whitney leaned forward.

  “Well, Ben, why don’t you give us an update on what you’ve found so far?” she asked.

  “With pleasure, ma’am,” he replied, his voice no longer shaking. “As you know, the virus is airborne and according to several models we’ve run, approximately ninety-nine point nine five percent of the world’s population has been infected. Only ones spared at the moment are those on remote islands in secluded jungle areas. And anybody with the A-blood type has already turned.”

  “In your research, have you been able to make any progress towards a cure?” Williams asked.

  Ben paused. “A cure, sir?” he swallowed audibly. “Well, some of the preliminary tests we’ve done have shown that it’s theoretically possible to neutralize the virus in a victim, however we haven’t found a way to administer that outside of a laboratory setting.”

  “And in all honesty, it would be a waste of time,” Whitney cut in. “Anyone who was bitten would die from the bacterial infection of the bites. Not to mention the damage caused to the body from going without food and water for extended periods of time.”

  “Well, if not a cure, what about a vaccine?” Williams asked.

  “Again, in theory, yes, I believe a vaccine should be possible,” Ben replied.

  The President smiled and took a sip of his coffee. “That is fantastic news, son. Fantastic news. I think we should be moving forward with this immediately.”

  “Mister President,” John said carefully, “I believe that would be a waste of our extremely limited resources.”

  Williams set his mug down a little harder than necessary. “I disagree, John.”

  “Mister President, I don’t say this lightly, but if you choose to use our resources on coming up with a vaccine, it’s going to get a lot of people killed,” John insisted.

  Williams sat up ramrod straight. “You’re being overdramatic.”

  “On the contrary sir, my assessment is dead on,” John argued.

  “Noted, John,” the President replied, and then turned back to the phone. “Ben, I want your top priority to be the vaccine.”

  “No!” John stood up from his chair and smacked the table hard. “This is the wrong course and people will die as a result. We don’t have time to be messing around with a worthless vaccine!”

  Williams stood up as well, drawing up to his full height, which was considerably taller than his angry subordinate. “You are out of line, John!” he bellowed.

  John ignored him. “Ben, you still with us?” he asked.

  Ben hesitated. “Yes, sir,” he replied quietly.

  “Hypothetical for you,” John said. “Let’s say everything goes smoothly and you get every single thing right on the first try. You get the perfect human safe vaccine on the first go, and your first set of human trials go perfectly. What’s the timetable on that?”

  “Uh…” Ben stammered. “Five… may… maybe six months?”

  “And what sort of facilities would you need in order to produce millions of vaccines?” John continued. “Not to mention what materials you’d need, or how to distribute it?”

  “I honestly don’t know, sir,” came the nervous reply. “I know there are a few facilities that could handle that level of production, but I have no idea if they’d have the resources required since I don’t know what all is going into the vaccine.”

  “Ben, I’m gonna put you on hold for a minute,” John informed him. “The President and I have something to discuss. Don’t go anywhere, now.”

  “I’m not going anywhere, sir,” Ben said firmly.

  John hit the mute button on the conference phone, and Williams sank back down into his chair, the facts sinking in slowly.

  “Mister President,” John declared, “we have a much, much larger threat to our remaining population than zombie infections. Common viruses like the flu will kill far more people than someone getting bitten, surviving, and turning.”

  “The reality is at this point Mister President,” Whitney cut in, “that most people who are killed by zombies are going to be mostly devoured, so even if they do reanimate t
hey won’t pose a threat.”

  The President scrubbed his hands down his face. “I hear you both,” he assured them, “and you make great points. However, one day and one day soon we are going to retake part of this country. Civilians are going to leave their fortifications and come to our stronghold. If we are going to keep the peace and succeed in rebuilding civilization, people will need to have their minds put at ease. They are going to have to know that their neighbor isn’t going to turn into a zombie in the middle of the night because they are hiding a bite.” He clasped his hands on the table in front of him. “This is why we need the vaccine.”

  Adams took a deep breath. “How about a compromise?”

  All eyes turned to him, and the President motioned for him to continue.

  “Set aside ten percent of time and resources towards developing a vaccine,” the General began. “Keep the focus on what is necessary now, which is developing the flu vaccine and getting it distributed. As we get closer to securing the Northwest, we can ramp up production on the zombie vaccine. People will gladly remain vigilant, especially if they know a vaccine is on the way.”

  Williams raised an eyebrow. “John, are you good with that?”

  “I am, sir.” John nodded firmly.

  “Good,” the President replied. “Oh, and Whitney, add finding a flu vaccine production facility to your list of tasks.”

  The redhead scribbled a note on one of her pages. “Yes, sir.”

  Williams reached over and unmuted the phone. “Thank you for holding, Ben.”

  “My pleasure, sir,” the young man replied.

  “For the foreseeable future, your primary objective is to come up with basic, everyday vaccines and medications,” Williams said. “Treating the flu, providing insulin, common things that keep people alive.”

  Ben paused. “What about my research, sir?”

  “I want you to set aside ten percent of your time to work on a vaccine,” Williams explained. “If you want to assign tasks to researchers in our fortresses who have limited supplies, please feel free to do so at your discretion.”

  “Thank you sir, I won’t let you down,” Ben replied.