The Beginning of the End (Book 1): Toward the Brink

by Craig A. McDonough

  “No, no I don’t, but is there no way I can …”

  “I’m truly sorry, Dennard, but there isn’t any other way. Give the phone back to my man. He’ll inform you of the arrangements I’ve put in place.”

  “Yes, sir?” the Tall Man said after taking the phone back. He moved to the far end of the office, away from Dennard.

  “Are you sure he can’t hear us?” Langlie asked quietly.

  “Positive, sir.”

  “He could be a liability. You know what to do.”

  “Yes, sir. Thank you, sir.”

  Langlie ended the call.

  “We need to get you out of here right away, Mr. Dennard,” the Tall Man said.

  Paul Dennard had always been a smart man; to become a bio-weapons developer with the CIA, you would have to be, but he hadn’t been blessed with the intuitive capability of judging the thoughts of others. That was a specialty that the field agents, commonly referred to as “spooks,” people like Langlie, had in spades.

  “Where are we going?”

  “Sir, we have a car waiting for you on the outskirts of town. You’re to drive to British Columbia. There are directions in the car, including where Mr. Langlie will meet you.”

  “I can’t just leave like this. I have things to gather from my home, and I’ll need money to get by, and … and I have to at least say goodbye to my wife.”

  “Sir, you heard what Mr. Langlie said. We are to leave right away, and no one is to be made aware of your exit. There just isn’t time, sir.”

  “All right, all right. Let’s get going then,” Dennard said.

  # # #

  “Wait, Elliot, wait!” Cindy called. She struggled to keep up with Elliot. He wasn’t quite as considerate as he was before, caught up in the urgency as he was.

  “What? What’s wrong, Cindy? We’re almost there.”

  “I need to catch my breath, Elliot. I’m not as fit as you.”

  “Okay, okay. The marchers are just over there.” He pointed to the intersection not fifty yards away. “They’ll be here in a moment.”

  He led her over to a nearby bus stop and sat her down.

  “You catch your breath. I’ll go talk with the organizer of the demonstration.”

  “Elliot, before you go … What was all that green stuff on the soldier’s face? I could see it from where I stood.”

  He looked across the street then down at his shoes.

  “It’s the sickness, Cindy. The sickness my mother witnessed firsthand when she worked at the medical center. It’s from the growth hormone developed by Baer. It’s what these people are marching against, and we’ve got to stop them from getting to the center!”

  “How can you be so sure, Elliot? I’ve read the rumors on the Internet. Those rumors say it’s so widespread because of the love Americans have for fast food and that most people have become infected. But none of my friends or me have become sick, and I eat a lot of fries.”

  Elliot felt his heart drop like a stone to the bottom of a well. That was the last thing he wanted to hear, especially now that his feelings for her had resurfaced.

  Renewed calls came over the bullhorn from the demonstration organizers to “double time it” to the medical center. Elliot noticed the man at the head of the rally with the bullhorn, obviously the leader, holding a cell phone to his ear. He was in his forties with a dark beard, sunglasses, camouflage pants, and a Che Guevara T-shirt. It was the same color as Elliot’s, just not washed as much.

  “This guy knows what’s happening,” he said to Cindy.

  She stood and looked over at the approaching marchers. “What makes you say that?”

  “As soon as he started talking on the cell phone, he ordered the protesters to move directly to the medical center.”

  “The police … Where are they?” Cindy’s voice betrayed her anxiousness.

  Elliot scanned the growing throng of protesters as they passed by. There was no chance of stopping them now. He eventually spotted three police officers off to one side of the street.

  “Over there,” he pointed. “Looks like they’re calling for backup on their two-ways. Least, I hope they are.”

  “They won’t get here in time to stop the demonstrators from entering the center.”

  Elliot agreed, but there was nothing that could be done to prevent it now. The only saving grace would be that it might shake the media out of its malaise. Since the time Elliot had first been made aware of the situation, he’d been dumbfounded by the total lack of media coverage on the developments. This confirmed Elliot’s suspicion that Baer controlled the media in Idaho.

  Follow the money, Elliot said to himself. Follow the money.

  “We need to let them know that we heard shots fired and what happened to the Army captain.”

  “Who could be letting that guy know what happened at the medical center? Weren’t we the only ones to see what happened?”

  “Obviously not.” The grinding of gears could almost be heard as he reflected upon her question. “Maybe there was someone from the demonstration nearby, an advance member, who heard the shots as well, or …”

  “Or what, Elliot? What are you thinking?”

  # # #

  “That’s your car over there, Mr. Dennard.”

  The Tall Man had driven Paul Dennard to a secluded spot on Shoshone Street near 5th Avenue. After stopping the black SUV a football field away, he filled in some details.

  “The keys are in the glove compartment along with a map, directions, and some cash. It has a full tank of gas which should get you most of the way.”

  Paul Dennard stared at the inconspicuous blue Toyota Camry without interest; his mind was numb.

  “Sir, the quicker you get going, the quicker you’ll get there. And, sir,” the Tall Man put a hand on Dennard’s shoulder, “Mr. Langlie told me that, although it may take a few months, you can rest assured he’ll get your wife out.”

  “Really? He said that?” Dennard perked up dramatically.

  “Yes, sir, he did, but you must to get moving, sir. You’re on a tight schedule.”

  “Yes, yes, you’re right. I’ll get going right now. Thank you for telling me that, err, Mister …”

  “Mr. Black,” the Tall Man answered.

  The Tall Man pushed a series of buttons on his cell phone as he watched Dennard cross the street toward the Camry.

  “Sir, Dennard is about to get into the car.” He listened to the reply from the other end then added, “Yes, sir. He is opening the door now. One, two …” The Tall Man held the cell phone out the window.

  The relative calm of the industrial park was shattered when the blue Camry erupted into a ball of flames. Shrapnel of all sizes bounced across the street, shattering windows and causing damage to nearby vehicles. The force of the explosion blew out windows of some factories and uprooted a large industrial waste container, sending it thirty yards into the air before it crashed into the side wall of a factory, causing a sizeable dent in the process. There were no pedestrians to be concerned with, precisely why this location had been selected.

  “I’m sure you heard that, sir,” the Tall Man said. He nodded as he listened to further instructions.

  “Yes, sir, I will, and thank you, Mr. Langlie.”

  The Tall Man ended his call then punched the numbers on his cell phone for another call. While he waited, he mocked his call with Langlie. “Yes, Mr. Langlie. No, Mr. Langlie. Whatever you say, Mr. Langlie,” he chuckled. “If only you knew, Mr. Langlie. If only you knew.”

  # # #

  “Maybe there’s someone inside the center, someone that saw everything or is a member of this group of radicals and relayed the information. This is going to get messy, I think,” Elliot reflected aloud.

  “I have an uneasy feeling about all of this too, Elliot. I don’t feel safe out here,” Cindy confided.

  “Let’s get out of here, Cindy. You know we’re lucky we didn’t get to the center faster.” He comforted her in his arms once more.

&n
bsp; “Don’t even talk about that. I don’t even want to think about what might have been.”

  Elliot felt her arms squeeze him tighter for a moment before she pulled her head back and looked deep into his eyes. He could see the fear in her moisture-filled eyes. This probably wasn’t the right time to rekindle lost love, but when is it ever? Elliot asked himself as he leaned his head forward and down as she raised her chin up, meeting him halfway. Their lips touched for the first time in many months.

  Most couples talk of hearing music during close moments. For Elliot and Cindy, there was only the wail of approaching police sirens.

  Six

  Police cruisers from various locations were converging on the Filer Avenue Medical Center. They were responding to a Code 3: life-threatening with a caution that possibly armed offenders are in the vicinity. Not a common occurrence in Twin Falls and even less so when all units are deployed.

  “I know this is possibly a life-threatening situation, Rookie,” Sergeant Mulhaven said, “but the way you’re driving, the only life under threat is mine. So let’s get there in one piece, okay?”

  “Yes, sir, I’ll get us there—”

  “Keep your eyes on the fuckin’ road, Rookie!”

  The first year cop turned his head forward, driving on almost without a word, but he had to ask. “Sir, are you ever going stop calling me ‘Rookie?’” The first year cop kept his eyes straight ahead this time.

  “Let me make you a deal.” The sergeant’s tone eased. “We get out of this alive, and we’ll see about it, okay, Officer Tibbuts?”

  “Yes, sir. Err, I mean Sergeant.”

  “Sarge will be just fine.”

  Rodney Tibbuts won a victory that day, a small one but a victory nonetheless. He wasn’t to know it would probably be his last.

  # # #

  The increased volume of the police sirens brought Elliot and Cindy back to their turbulent state. For a brief moment, the ghastly images and the confusion had all but vanished. As they relaxed from their embrace, they paused for a final gaze and both hoped it wouldn’t be the last.

  A police car came around the corner from where Elliot and Cindy stood. The siren and lights were active, but the driver took the corner cautiously.

  # # #

  “I think you can go a little faster, Tibbuts.”

  “Yes, sir—I mean Sarge—I … Ahh, hey, that’s my neighbor!” Rodney Tibbuts said. “Yo, Elliot, hey!” Tibbuts shoved an arm out the window and waved.

  “HAVE YOU GONE INSANE, ROOKIE? WE’RE ON POLICE BUSINESS, AND YOU WANT TO CATCH UP WITH OLD FRIENDS?”

  “Sorry, Sarge. I wasn’t thinking.”

  “Damn straight you weren’t thinking. Just get to the medical center without further incident, and I’ll try to forget what I just witnessed.”

  # # #

  “That looked like Rodney in the police car,” Elliot said.

  “Rodney who?”

  “He lived next door to us before we moved to the store.” He paused. “Shit!”

  “What’s wrong, Elliot?”

  “We have to go warn him. I know I said we’d get out of here, but he’s been a friend of the family for long time, Cindy.” He held her hand. “I have to.”

  “I understand. I wouldn’t expect you to do anything less. Let’s go, Cowboy.”

  Cowboy was her affectionate name for him when they were dating, and she felt it was, again, appropriate.

  “No, I want you to stay back. It could be dangerous.”

  “And if something happens to you, what do I do then? Uh-uh, no way, Cowboy. From now on, you can consider me to be your shadow.”

  “Okay then, Shadow, let’s get down there!”

  # # #

  Police cars from all directions had descended on the medical center. The front of the general admission building and the small ER were in complete disruption as protesters tried to force themselves through doors that could only handle two at a time. It hadn’t gone unnoticed by the attending police that a medical facility built to hold one hundred patients plus staff wasn’t going to cope with an additional thousand or so heckling dissidents. Officers got tired of the snail’s pace caused by the congestion and jumped from their squad cars and dashed to the center.

  “Take up positions on the road behind the demonstrators!” a police captain yelled.

  “Maybe we should wait on the SWAT truck to get here,” a young officer said.

  “Idiot, the truck’s in the shop being repaired!” the captain snapped.

  “Then why didn’t we put on our riot gear?”

  “Because this isn’t a riot, and we don’t have time. Now, if you have any more questions, go bother someone else.”

  Sergeant Mulhaven and Tibbuts had parked their black and white SUV around the side of the center near the deuce and a half and were now advancing on the staff-only door. A film of blood and a green substance could be seen smeared across the door’s window. Mulhaven also noted that it had been cracked and the door was dented from the inside.

  “Okay, Tibbuts. Stay frosty.”

  Tibbuts saw the sergeant ease his 9mm pistol from its holster and understood this was the real deal. The two edged closer to the door, placing each foot down with steady precision.

  “Rodney. Hey, Rodney!”

  The two cops froze to a sudden stop. Their hearts skipped a beat.

  “Elliot! What the fuck …”

  “Your friend again, Rookie?” Mulhaven asked ominously.

  “Yes, Sarge.”

  “Then stupidity is a common trait from where you come from, I gather!”

  “Sir, I saw what happened, sir!” Elliot yelled. He spoke loudly and concisely like his life depended on it. Maybe it did. It achieved the desired effect.

  “Go on,” Mulhaven said, his eyes wide from anger.

  Elliot relayed his story of the events he had witnessed not thirty minutes earlier. Cindy, of course, backed up every word. Two eyewitnesses are hard to beat in court and especially at the scene. Mulhaven believed them. Rodney was anxious to catch up with his old neighbor and had turned to speak with Elliot when the ER staff door flew open.

  “Help me! Help me!” A young nurse clutching a cell phone came running from the ER. “You gotta keep those things away from me. Keep them away, I tell you!”

  The nurse screamed so loud that Mulhaven’s fillings vibrated; then she collapsed. Rodney and Cindy went to her aid immediately, but Elliot, like Mulhaven, stared at the ER staff door that the young nurse had left ajar. Elliot recalled the words of the captain. “Don’t let them out …” But it was too late now. All those protesters had gone inside, and the front doors had been open all along.

  “Listen,” Elliot said. “What can you hear?”

  While Rodney and Cindy checked on the nurse, Mulhaven holstered his pistol and listened.

  “I can’t hear anything, boy,” Mulhaven said.

  Aside from the din around the front of the main building, there wasn’t a peep coming from inside.

  “Precisely, Sergeant. Precisely. With all those people inside, you’d think we would be able to hear something, don’t you think?”

  “Elliot, we better get a doctor for this woman; she’s bleeding,” Cindy said.

  “It looks like a bite mark just below her neck,” Tibbuts added.

  “Where are we going to find a doctor when the medical center has been overrun by protesters and God only knows what else?” Mulhaven said.

  “The clinic a few blocks from here. I could take her. They have good doctors there.”

  Mulhaven looked at Tibbuts for a long moment as he took his offer under consideration.

  “All right. You take her to the clinic, but come back ASAP!”

  “Yes sir—err, Sarge. I’ll be back before you know it.” Tibbuts turned to Elliot. “Give me a hand, will you, Elliot?”

  Elliot and Cindy helped Tibbuts lift the young nurse onto the back seat of the black and white SUV. Mulhaven stood back and kept a watchful eye on the open door to the
ER.

  Tibbuts raced off to the clinic as soon as the doors were closed.

  “What’s the plan then, Sergeant?” Elliot asked.

  Mulhaven didn’t have any plans to speak of, but the sirens in the distance were pleasing to his ears.

  “Sounds like we got extra manpower on the way. I think we might block all the exits and call them out. If they don’t … we’ll use tear gas.”

  Elliot considered the sergeant for a moment, then the medical center. He felt uncomfortable with what he was about to say to the experienced police officer, but it had to be said.

  “I don’t think that would be a great idea, sir.”

  “I suppose you have a better idea then?”

  Mulhaven was never a headstrong type who went about life believing that the only two choices were his way or none. He was a tough, when he had to be, former Army sergeant who’d served in Operation Desert Shield. It was because of that war that he became a cop. He detested what he’d seen on the battlefield from all sides and promised that if he got out of there alive, he would do what he could to help those in need and not kill them. He moved back to his home town of Twin Falls, Idaho as soon as he was discharged and joined the Twin Falls police soon after. He had always been and still was open to the ideas of others, even if his manner was a little on the gruff side.

  Whatever Elliot’s idea was, no one ever got to hear it. A volley of pistol and shotgun fire erupted from the entrance of the main building.

  Seven

  Sergeant Mulhaven rushed toward the sound of the gunfire with Elliot Goodwin close behind, securely holding Cindy’s hand.

  “Be careful going ‘round that corner, Sarge!”

  People were running in all directions, some calling for help while others just screamed. Elliot and Mulhaven assumed the officers had opened fire on the protesters. Their assumption was incorrect.

  “What the fuck is going on?” Mulhaven yelled.

  Police officers were taking cover behind one of the Army Hummers and a Twin Falls police car and were firing at what appeared to be the members of the demonstration, but when Elliot looked closer, the pallid color of their skin and the revealing green foam on their faces and clothes told a different story. An officer blasted a “protester” in the chest with his twelve-gauge riot gun from point-blank range, sending him cartwheeling backward.