“I’m here, Tom,” Kim said.
“I’m going to connect you with General Miller’s soldiers now,” Tom replied. There was a shift in sound in Kim’s hood before Tom continued. “Hello, Lieutenant Colonel Bryant. This is Dr. Tom Flannery, director of the CDC facility. How close are you?”
“Coming around the block now,” a gruff voice spoke into Kim’s ear. “Thirty seconds, tops.”
Kim envisioned Dr. Flannery nodding in the control center. “CDC Field Agent Kim Shields will be waiting for you.”
“Roger that,” Bryant said.
Kim soon heard the roar of an engine, and a military Humvee pulled up behind Burke’s bus. Three soldiers got out, met at the driver’s side, and looked around. Two of the soldiers wore simple white coveralls and respirators while a third soldier wore a camouflaged suit equivalent to Kim’s. All three of the men carried assault-style rifles in plastic bags, similar to Burke’s goons, and each had a backpack slung over their shoulders.
They spotted her and made their way over.
Kim waved. “Good to see you, Lieutenant Colonel Bryant.”
“Ma’am. Sorry we’re late, but we got sidetracked helping some civilians evacuate a building. We found twenty of them. Our biggest haul yet.”
“Do you think there are many more?” Kim asked, her voice edged with hope. “I mean, have you seen more who need rescuing?”
“Hard to tell, ma’am,” Bryant said. “A lot of folks are burrowing deep inside of buildings to put walls between them and the fungus. They’ll come out once they run out of food. The smart ones are leaving lights in their windows to let us know they need help. I split the main part of my unit off with orders to escort the twenty we found back to the FEMA base. We three came to lock down your facility.”
“You’ve no idea how much we appreciate that,” Kim said. She couldn’t wait to see the expression on Burke’s face when she introduced him to Bryant. Kim did a visual inspection of the soldiers’ suits, walking around them and looking for tears. “You’re fine to come inside the general quarters,” Kim said, “but your men will need to sit in quarantine for a day or so before we can allow them to roam since they’re not wearing Class A protection. It’s just a precaution.”
“That won’t be a problem,” Bryant said. “They’ve been on duty since this all started, and I’m sure they’d appreciate the downtime.”
“Great. Let’s get you inside.”
Thirty minutes of decontamination protocols later, Kim and Bryant met in the commons area. The soldier had showered and dressed in his original military fatigues after Kim had given them a quick wash in the community washing machine. His well-muscled shoulders bulged in his white T-shirt.
“Cream or sugar?” Kim asked him from where she stood in front of the coffee maker.
“Black,” the soldier replied, running his hand through his damp hair.
Kim brought the cup of coffee over and placed it on the table in front of him before she got one for herself.
“Thanks,” Bryant said, lifting the cup to his lips.
“No problem,” Kim replied. She replaced the used coffee pod and put a fresh one in for herself, hitting the start button to begin the brewing cycle. “Nothing like fresh coffee to clear your head.”
“You’ve got that right,” Bryant agreed. “This is the good stuff, too. Not the instant packets we’re used to.”
Kim poured cream and sugar into her cup and sat across from Bryant.
“How long have you and Dr. Flannery been down here?” he asked.
“Almost since the moment it all started,” Kim said, then she twisted her lips. “I had to run the obstacle course from hell to get here.”
“Sorry to hear that.”
“It’s okay,” Kim said. “I made it. That’s all that counts. What’s it like at the FEMA camp? Do you need me there?”
“To be honest, ma’am,” Bryant looked at her, “It doesn’t look good for us. We’ve got about two-thousand people and growing. Most of them are infected. The CDC folks have been great, but we didn’t realize there were carriers mingling inside the clean tents. By the time we realized people were passing it from person to person, it was too late.”
“The fungus retracts to a less aggressive state after about twenty-four hours,” Kim acknowledged. “We’re hoping it goes completely dormant. The only good news is that no one has died in this second phase that I’m aware of. Although I haven’t been able to keep up with all the field teams.
“No, you’re right. People at the FEMA camp are sick, and getting sicker, but no one has died. Do you think that’s a good sign?”
“It means folks can resist the less aggressive form of the fungus,” Kim said. “We need to bring some of those folks here for testing.”
Bryant’s expression was grim. “If you need more test subjects, we’ve got them.”
“I’ve been interested in a little girl from New York who seems to be immune to Asphyxia.” Kim leveled her gaze at the man. “At least until we lost contact with her.”
“Damn.” Bryant shook his head.
“On the positive side, we’ve got another round of solutions to test one subject.”
“What if those don’t work?”
“We have to keep trying. I’ll talk to Dr. Flannery and General Miller about transferring some of the infected from the FEMA camp to here.”
Footsteps approached, and Kim looked up to see Burke, Pauline, and two of Burke’s goons step into the commons room.
“You’ll bring more infected people into the facility?” Burke asked. The CEO was dressed in workout clothes, and a towel hung around his neck. “Are you sure that’s safe?”
“That information is classified,” Kim said.
“Yet, here you are discussing it with some grunt.” Burke turned to Bryant. “This is?”
“Lieutenant Colonel Scott Bryant,” the soldier said. “I take it you’re Birkenhoff?”
“The one and only,” Burke said with a grin. “This is my assistant, Pauline, and my top man, Josh Richtman.”
Goon and soldier stared one another up and down. Kim could feel the tension in the room grow.
Burke stared openly at Bryant’s pistol holstered on his hip. “I thought you said no weapons allowed in the facility?”
“We make exceptions for United States military,” Kim replied, unable to keep the hint of smartness from her tone. “This is a government facility.”
“For as long as there is a government,” Burke murmured.
Bryant stiffened in his chair.
Burke’s goon, Richtman, took a deep, steady breath, and a smile lifted the corners of his mouth.
“Sorry,” Burke said, spreading his hands. “We’ve all been a little out of sorts, as you can imagine. Some of us are less than thrilled with the government’s response to the crisis.”
Kim’s face flashed with heat, and her jaw dropped. “The government’s response? For a mess you created?”
Burke pulled up a chair from another table. “Do you mind if I sit?” Without waiting for a response, he slid into the chair and placed his hands on the table in front of him. “My company was competing with several other companies to bring our product to market. With the government’s consent, we rolled out the Harvest Guard product legally. I’m happy to say, our global supply chain is the best in the world, and it brought the antifungal to market expediently.”
“No one alerted the CDC, Burke.” Dr. Flannery’s words about not provoking the CEO echoed in Kim’s head, yet she couldn’t contain her contempt. “You didn’t properly test Harvest Guard in the field. You resubmitted results of your previous tests. I don’t know who you paid off to get this pushed down the pipeline and into production, but if they’re still alive, you’re both going down for it.”
“Sounds criminal to me.” Bryant shrugged. “Then again, I’m not an expert.”
The heat of Kim’s words and Bryant’s veiled threat didn’t seem to affect the CEO.
“Is that why Ge
neral Miller wanted me here?” Burke asked with a snide expression. “To keep tabs on me?”
“You’d have to ask him,” Kim said.
Burke gave Kim a contemptuous look. “You think one jarhead is enough to keep us here?”
Kim stiffened. “His men will be out of quarantine in twenty-four hours.”
“Don’t forget the two thousand troops stationed around the FEMA camp just outside of the city,” Bryant said, matter-of-factly. “Humvee’s with mounted weaponry that would shred that bus of yours. You aren’t going anywhere.”
Burke nodded with a contemplative expression. “I’m going to visit that wonderful little gym you folks have on site.” Burke pulled at the towel wrapped around his neck. “Exercise is so important. Pauline?”
“I want to grab a piece of fruit, first,” the tall assistant said, moving to the cabinets.
“Grab it while you can,” Burke said in a sing song way. “And then catch up.”
With that, the CEO stood and left the room with his goons following close behind him.
Kim watched Pauline grab a banana from the pile, its bright yellow skin already starting to turn brown with ripeness.
“Hey, Pauline,” Kim said, finding it irritating how confident she was with an armed soldier backing her up. “I’d like to interview you to help us understand where Durant-Monroe fits into this disaster.”
Pauline hesitated at the threshold of the room, turning back to glare at Kim. “I don’t think that would be a good idea. Not without Mr. Birkenhoff’s lawyers present.”
“I think we can all agree that’s not going to happen,” Kim said. “I just need to ask a couple of questions. And, since it looks like we’re going to be roommates for a while, we might as well get to know each other.”
Pauline’s smile froze. “Later today then.”
“Great.”
Kim watched as the woman stepped into the hall and followed Burke.
“You don’t trust Mr. Birkenhoff, do you?”
“Not as far as I can throw him,” Kim said. “He wouldn’t have a leg to stand on in a court of law. Why he’s so damn smug about everything, I have no idea.”
“Sounds like you’ve got him dead to rights.”
“But, if we can’t find a cure for Asphyxia, if we can’t save what’s left of humanity, Burke may never pay for what he’s done.”
Chapter 36
Randy and Jenny Tucker, Kentland, Indiana
The sheriff led the twins, Officer Smith, and another officer across the threshold and into a second control room. It held three thick, metal doors leading into cell blocks A, B, and C. The sheriff hit the switches to release Cell Block B’s door.
While Randy was already hot in his Tyvek coveralls, the room felt stuffy, and the shouts of the inmates grew louder.
Jenny let go of her cart and nudged Randy. “Looks like there’s no one in the other cell blocks.”
Randy looked to his left and right and saw that the tiny, rectangular windows set into the doors were black. The lights were off. “You’re right.” Randy glanced at the sheriff to make sure he wasn’t watching. Then he grabbed Smith and pulled him closer. “Hey, man, what happened to those other cell blocks? Why are the windows dark?”
Smith shot his own glance at the sheriff before he placed his mask close to Randy’s ear. “Those blocks were on a newer ventilation system. All linked up. Somehow the stuff got in there, and we couldn’t save them.”
Randy looked back and forth between the cell block doors. “Were some of the men in A and C sick?”
Smith nodded again.
Jenny butted her head between the two of them. “And the sheriff brought the infected ones into an uninfected block?”
A loud, clanking noise interrupted them, and the sheriff pushed Cell Block B’s door open and stepped through. Another officer in protective coveralls and a respirator met him. They exchanged a few words and stepped aside as the sheriff waved them in.
Smith pushed his cart in first, followed by Jenny, Randy, and the second officer. The guard at the door looked at Randy with nervous, exhausted eyes as he gripped his rifle tight. Randy nodded to him as they pushed their way through. The cell block was a large rectangle of cells facing inward toward a central courtyard. Within the courtyard were tables, chairs, and a few carts full of linens and other cell supplies.
The inmates erupted at once, hollering and hooting at the newcomers as they entered. They shouted insults and curses that made Randy blush. He couldn’t see Jenny’s face, though he imagined what she must be thinking.
“Stay close to Smith,” the sheriff said, puffing his chest out as he looked around. “We’ll park the carts out in the middle, then you kids go back to the control room and shut the doors behind you. You can watch from the monitors.”
Once they were out in the middle of the courtyard, the sheriff turned back to them. “Okay, this is good,” Sheriff Stans said with a jerk of his head. “You kids go back.”
Randy and Jenny left the carts and walked back to the intersection. While it was only twenty-five yards, it seemed like a million miles with the inmates jeering at them.
When Randy looked past the glares, scowls, and pounding fists, he noticed the coughing and hacking sounds; they were painful sounds that reminded him of people with advanced pneumonia. Sick men lingered in the backs of their cells or lay exhausted on their thin cots. One man shouted that there was stuff growing in his toilet.
Randy glanced up to see one man in particular standing in the cell closest to the intersection door. From playing high school football, Randy had learned how to gauge a man’s height and weight at a glance. The man in the cell was a hulk, standing six feet, four inches tall and weighing two hundred and fifty pounds.
The man’s face was long with an untrimmed beard covering his jaw. Dark, tousled hair sprouted from his head as if it hadn’t seen a comb in weeks. His jail shirt stretched over a pair of wide shoulders, and his big hands rested on the edge of the tray slit like a spider waiting for a fat, juicy bug to come by.
He was the only prisoner in the cell.
“Hey, boys, looks like they brought us two pretty red-heads!” the hulk shouted, and the other prisoners hooted and hollered in response.
“That girl looks as sweet as cotton candy,” one shouted.
Another hooted, “I’ll fight you for her...”
Randy raised his middle finger to the hulking man just before they entered the safety of the chamber, and the inmates went even more ballistic with laughter. Smith followed the twins and shut the chamber door behind them, cutting off the sounds. He threw the lock and gestured to the control room.
“Come on,” he said. “Let’s watch from the monitors.”
Smith sat in front of the monitor screens, and Randy and Jenny pulled up chairs on either side of him. They watched as the on-duty officer and the sheriff went to the first cell where a pair of old men sat.
“That’s Jones and Bickens,” Smith said, pointing at the screen. “Nice guys.
“What are they in for?” Randy asked.
“Drunk and disorderly,” Smith said. He glanced at Randy and shrugged. “Wrong place at the wrong time.”
“Yeah, no kidding.”
The two old men inside the cell seemed like solemn monks compared to the other inmates. One of the men brought an old stack of trays over to a tray slit in the cell bars and slipped them through to the on-duty officer. Once the officer had taken the old trays and moved away from the door, Sheriff Stans brought two trays of fresh food over and slipped them into the tray slit one at a time.
One of the old men took his tray and joined his cellmate on a bunk. Then he dipped his fingers into the lima beans and corn, holding the dripping vegetables up with a nod before he dropped them into his mouth.
“Next up,” Smith said.
The prisoners hurled barely perceptible insults and catcalls at the officers by the dozen and in more creative ways than Randy had ever heard.
“Tough crowd,�
� Randy said.
Officer Smith nodded. “You have no idea.”
Randy began to understand Sheriff Stans’ weariness and just how difficult it was for the officers to keep the jail under control. It must be a nightmare to deal with all those hard-knock men when most of them didn’t appreciate it. Randy wasn’t sure he shared the sheriff’s same sense of duty.
As they neared the end of the hour, the sheriff and his officer came to the hulking man’s cell.
Randy narrowed his eyes. “Who’s that?”
“The guy you flipped off? That’s Krumer.”
“What’s he in for?”
“You don’t want to know,” Smith said with a glance at Randy. “Seriously, you don’t want to know. He’s going up state as soon as things get back to normal.” Smith’s expression sobered. “You probably shouldn’t have flipped him off.”
An hour later, Sheriff Stans and the on-duty officer pushed the carts over near the junction door, and Smith led the twins to retrieve them.
Randy, Jenny, and Smith each got behind their carts and pushed them out of the control room. Randy let out an enormous sigh of relief when the control room door slammed shut behind them.
They pushed the carts back to the kitchen and then left the building. While Randy was relieved to be out of the jail, he would have loved to take off his air filtration mask and wipe the sweat off his face. His blood still pumped full of adrenaline from the confrontation with Krumer, and he turned and gave his sister a grin.
Jenny wasn’t smiling.
“What’s wrong?”
“Smith was right.” She stood there with her hands on her hips, fuming. “You shouldn’t have flipped that Krumer guy off. That guy was huge.”
“I’m not going to take crap from anyone,” Randy said with a sour note. “And it’s not like I’m a shrimp or something. Our entire offensive line was bigger than him last year, and I handled them just fine in practice.
“This isn’t football practice.”
Seeing his sister’s serious concern, Randy nodded. “It’s not a game, I know. I’ll try not to poke any more bears. I’d like to never go inside there again.”
Spore Series (Book 1): Spore Page 21
