by Dirk Patton
Identifying himself, he asked that the headset be passed to Major Chase. Footsteps, a brief, muffled conversation followed by the scrape of the microphone against fabric and the Major’s voice spoke in his ear.
“Major, Lieutenant Hunt. We’re in the system, but it’s going to take about nine hours before we have full control. Are you going to be able to keep the servers up and running that long?”
“Yes,” he answered. “We brought enough fuel for the generators. Shouldn’t be a problem, but nine hours is cutting it close. I’m supposed to be in Russian hands in less than ten. Besides, we’re trapped. Infected in the building. We’re not going anywhere.”
Hunt sat back, blinking. He didn’t have any idea what the Major was talking about. In the Russian’s hands?
“Major, I think I’d better try and get the Admiral on the line. Stand by.”
“Copy. I got nothing else to do but stand by.”
Lieutenant Hunt quickly placed a call to Admiral Packard’s office, his aide immediately connecting the call. Hunt briefly described the situation before joining the two calls.
“Major?”
“Admiral. Greetings from Utah,” John said.
“I understand you’ve completed your mission but can’t get out of the building.”
“Correct, sir. The infected breached and we’re trapped in the server room. We’ve been looking for a way out, but there’s not one.”
“Colonel Blanchard is only an hour away by air. I’ll have him send some Marines your way to extract you,” Packard said, sounding like he was ready to hang up and start issuing orders.
“Negative, sir. Won’t work. There are several thousand infected in the building and tens of thousands in the parking lot surrounding us. There’s no way anyone is fighting their way in. Or out.”
The circuit was quiet for a long moment as the Admiral digested what he’d just been told.
“Sir,” Major Chase spoke into the silence. “What does this do to the agreement with the Russians about turning me over? We’re cutting it close if the weapon, or whatever it is, won’t be ready for another nine hours.”
“It’s going to have to be,” Packard growled. “Lieutenant, how realistic is that estimate?”
“Direct from Petty Officer Simmons, sir. She’s usually spot on. She doesn’t pad or underestimate the amount of time she needs. But I am concerned that if there’s an unforeseen problem the timeline could get extended.”
“That’s not an option, Lieutenant. Less than ten hours from now, either we’re online and operational, or Major Chase needs to be in Russian hands. If neither of those things happen, the bombs start dropping.
“You make sure that whatever the Petty Officer needs, she gets. Immediately. I’m sending my aide over. He will ensure you get instant cooperation.”
Packard’s voice sounded tired as he spoke. He was betting the last remnants of America on a young woman who hadn’t exactly shown that she had the best judgment. But, his back was against the wall and the only other option was unconditional surrender.
“Yes, sir,” Hunt said.
“Admiral, one more thing if I may?” Major Chase interjected before the call could end.
“Don’t know why not, Major. There’s not a damn thing for me to do for the next ten hours except wear a hole in my carpet and smoke too much.”
“Sir, I wanted to ask about Jessica. Petty Officer Simmons.”
“What about her?” The Admiral asked, cautiously.
“What’s going to happen to her, sir?”
“I’m not sure that’s your concern, Major,” Packard said, the warning in his voice clear.
“Sir, begging your pardon, but I’m making it my concern. She has saved my life more times than I can count. And, since she’s still at work, she’s apparently a very valuable asset to the Navy and the United States.”
“I’m well aware of her value, Major. Thank you for bringing the obvious to my attention. Is that all?” Heavy sarcasm was in the Admiral’s voice.
“No, sir. It’s not. You’ve asked a lot of me. Turning myself over. And you’ve already agreed to do a couple of things for me, for which I’m grateful. Now, I’m either going to die in this building, or someone will come up with some way to get me out so I can be executed in Moscow. I want one more thing from you, sir.
“Don’t put the Petty Officer on trial for what she’s done. She’s a patriot, just like the rest of us. Her only crime is that she’s young and made a mistake. If you can’t forgive and trust her to continue there in Hawaii, put her on a plane to Australia. There’s enough dead Americans, sir.”
Major Chase finished speaking and went quiet. He had put it all out there, and Lieutenant Hunt found himself agreeing. Jessica didn’t deserve to be tried, convicted and possibly executed for what she’d done. Yes, it was bad, but these were desperate times. The only problem was the little matter of her boyfriend. No evidence that he was a spy had been found, yet, and murder was still murder.
“I will take it under consideration, Major.”
There was a click and Packard was gone. Hunt took a deep breath, blowing it out through his mouth.
“Think he’ll let her go?” Major Chase was still on the circuit.
“I don’t know, Major. I just don’t know.”
“Jessica told me she was starting to work on activating my wife’s beacon. Is there anyone else that can take over while she’s involved with this?”
“No, I’m sorry. I was trying to get the satellite to issue the command, and couldn’t make it work. Had to turn it over to the Petty Officer.”
Major Chase was quiet for a moment. A low sigh was audible over the circuit.
“Very well, thank you Lieutenant.”
“You’re welcome, sir. I’m here if you need anything.”
There was a click and the Major was gone. Hunt pulled his headset off and got up to check on Jessica’s progress. He looked around when the door opened and Admiral Packard’s aide walked in. Taking up positions behind the Petty Officer’s station, the two men watched as she furiously worked on her keyboard.
49
Nicole looked up when Lieutenant Sam tapped on the window. She was seated on a narrow bunk in an isolation room inside the research institute. She’d been poked, prodded, stuck with needles, X-rayed, MRI’d, CT’d and ultrasounded to death. She didn’t think there was another test known to man that could be run on her.
The boat ride from the University had been uneventful compared to the trek from the nuclear physics lab to the edge of the lake. The wounded Master Chief had piloted them, putting on speed as they passed underneath three bridges. She had been terrified to hear splashes in the water as they cleared each roadway.
Upon arrival at the institute, she was quickly ushered inside. Two SEALs were assigned to watch over her as Sam hustled the Master Chief off to receive medical attention. She was handed over to two research scientists.
One of them, an arrogant prick named Dr. Kanger, rubbed her the wrong way as soon as he opened his mouth and began talking about her as if she were something he was looking at under a microscope. The other, a younger man who introduced himself as Joe, had the saddest eyes she’d ever seen.
Neither of them had offered any theories on her condition and they had finally placed her in the sealed room. She was told it was for her safety, but she knew it was because they were scared of her. Not that she could blame them, but she knew she was OK. She didn’t have the urge to hurt, let alone eat, any of them.
Well, maybe Kanger could use a good ass kicking, but she recognized the type. Working in the sciences she had encountered many a Doctor of this or Professor of that who thought they were the smartest person in the room and everyone else was beneath them. She didn’t have a problem with that first part.
“You said you’d tell me your story,” Sam said, smiling at her through the glass.
“It’s pretty boring,” she smiled back, happy to have someone to talk to that was interested in more than
examining her.
“That’s OK. I’ve got time. One of the guys is outside taking measurements from several different locations. Thanks for that suggestion, by the way. He’s going to print it out and bring it to us when he gets back. So, we can either talk about the weather, or you can tell me how you wound up locked in.”
Sam looked around when Joe Revard walked up. He nodded at the SEAL and smiled at Nicole.
“I was just coming for the same reason,” he said. “Might be helpful. Do you mind?”
Nicole looked at him for a moment, shook her head, took a breath and stood up. She found it easier to talk if she was standing. Too many years in academia, she mused. Taking a breath, she began.
Nicole wasn’t just smart, she was an actual certified genius. With an IQ higher than 99.99% of the people on the planet, odds were in her favor that she was the smartest person in the room. With dual doctorates from MIT, she had begun her career at Lawrence Livermore labs in California, working with the team that was trying to develop cold fusion.
They’d had several significant breakthroughs and were within a decade of rolling out a power source that would solve one of the world’s biggest problems and do it with limitless, clean energy. After a significant advancement in the technology, the entire team was given a week’s vacation. When they returned to the lab they were astounded to find that all of their work had been removed.
Loud protests were met with a visit from a truly frightening man who refused to say which government agency he worked for. They were reminded of the secrecy agreements by which they were bound, and thinly veiled threats of life in a Super Max prison were made if they discussed their work with anyone. The team broke up after that, many of them choosing to retire as they had spent a lifetime on their quest.
But Nicole was too young to retire. Barely thirty, she looked around for something to do, jumping at an opportunity to teach nuclear physics at the University of Washington. It wasn’t MIT or Cal Tech, but the school had a good reputation and would have the equipment to allow her to continue her work. Only she would have to do it quietly. On her own.
That’s what she had been doing on the night of the attacks. Alone in the lab, she was insulated from the outside world. She had no idea anything had happened until the following morning when, bleary eyed, she opened the door to go home and shower before her first class.
It was odd that there had been no one in the upper level lobby when she walked out, but she was too tired to give it any thought. Trudging down the stairs she’d come out into the lower level, again seeing no activity. Heading for the door that opened into the security vestibule, she idly wondered if she’d mixed up her days, again, and it was the weekend.
Opening the door, she froze in horror. Gus, the affable man that worked the evening security shift, turned at the sound. His eyes were solid red orbs and black blood dripped from his nose and ears. With a hiss and snarl he reached for her, taking a shambling step in her direction.
As his hand closed on her arm, Nicole snapped back to reality and screamed. She pulled back, tearing away from Gus’s hand and slamming the steel door with all her strength. The door bounced back, having impacted his head, and she threw her body against it and pushed until she heard the lock catch.
Dashing back up the stairs, she noticed the long, bloody furrow in her forearm where one of his nails had torn her skin. Ignoring it, she dashed past her lab and into a large kitchen, fumbling her cell phone out of her purse. There was no signal for her carrier. It was still connected to the building’s Wi-Fi, but there was apparently no internet connection.
She tried a hard wired phone on the wall, but when she got an outside line there was no dial tone. The TV on the wall only displayed a banner telling her that the Emergency Broadcast System had been activated. In a near panic, she hit the alarm button when the muted pops of gunfire from outside the building reached her ears.
The alarm would alert the University Police, the Seattle Police, the Washington State Police and Homeland Security. It also locked down the facility, securing all doors until the authorities arrived with the proper reset codes. But they never arrived. Nicole was locked in.
The day had passed with agonizing slowness. Frequent gunfire could be heard, sounding distant because of the building’s thick, shielded walls. She knew it had to actually be just outside. On campus.
As evening approached, hunger drove her to inventory what was in the kitchen. Knowing many of her co-workers also kept food in their offices and work areas, she had begun a search. Half way through, she had come across a small ham radio receiver in one of the assistant professor’s desks. It was about the size of a brick with a long, rubber antenna.
Turning it on, she could only hear static. Her excitement over finding it was tempered when she remembered the lead shielding that surrounded her. But it wouldn’t be here if it was useless inside the building. She had kept looking until she found a small antenna mounted high on an exterior wall in one of the least often used labs. A cable from its base disappeared into the wall.
She realized it was a passive relay for the radio signal. Taking a seat directly beneath it, she turned the handset back on. For twenty-four hours she listened to descriptions of the horror that had been unleashed on the United States. Then the battery died, and before she was able to locate a charging cable the building’s power went out.
Generators kicked in, but they were only wired to the security system and a limited number of emergency lights. Even if she’d found the charger, there was no way to power it. She was cut off from the outside world.
A few days later she had gotten sick. The flu, she’d thought. At least until now. She had been sicker than she could ever remember being. Body aches that caused her to pull into a ball and stay there for more than a day. A burning fever and associated delirium.
Now, she wasn’t so sure it was delirium. Some of the nightmares she’d had were so rage filled and dark they had frightened her. As the fever burned through her, she tried to sleep, waking several times so frightened of the horrible images in her head that she cried out in terror.
But the flu had passed. She had been keeping track of the passing days on a whiteboard, but the illness had been so severe she’d lost count. There was no way to know how long she’d been laid up. Recovery had been quick, then it had been countless hours of tedium until she heard the noise the SEALs made as they broke in to the facility.
“I was out of food and almost out of water,” she said. “If you guys hadn’t found me…”
“Just how smart are you?” Joe interrupted.
“Is that really important?”
Nicole didn’t like talking about it. In fact, she went to great lengths to disguise her intellect. She was one of the rare people with extremely high IQs who wasn’t socially awkward. And she didn’t like the reaction she got from people when they found out. Yes, she was smarter than them. Despite what they might think, this didn’t make her look down on them.
“It might be,” Joe said. “We’ve been observing female infected for some time. As the virus has mutated, less and less of their cognitive abilities are being impacted. At least that’s what we think. Perhaps it’s not that the virus is having a lesser impact, maybe it’s the baseline intelligence of the subject to begin with.”
“The subject?” Nicole asked, eyebrows arched sharply.
“Sorry,” Joe said.
“I’m just yanking your chain,” she smiled, even though she actually had taken mild offense to the term. “I tested at 189 when I was a child. At MIT I went through a battery of three separate tests. The mean result was 194.”
“Oh, my God,” Joe breathed.
“Is that high?” Sam asked.
“One hundred is average,” Joe said, trying to contain his excitement. “You seem reasonably intelligent, so I’d guess you’re around 115 to 120. I tested at 123. Einstein was 160.”
Sam’s mouth dropped open and he turned to stare at Nicole. She looked back at him and shrugged he
r shoulders.
“This is amazing,” Joe said excitedly. “The first thing we have to do is test you again. See what you score now. Determine if the infection has impacted your cognitive reasoning ability.”
“That’s going to have to wait,” a new voice spoke up from behind them.
Joe and Sam turned to see Echo, the SEAL who had been outside sampling the radiation levels. He held several pieces of paper in his hand, extending them to his Lieutenant. Sam scanned them quickly, grimacing, then placed them in an open drawer and pushed a lever which slid the mechanism into Nicole’s room.
“Are those numbers as bad as I think they are?” He asked as she snatched them up and moved under a light.
“Yes,” she said a moment later, looking up from the papers. “You need to run the same tests inside the building. We need to know how well it’s protecting us, but I’m pretty sure we need to leave.”
Sam turned to issue the order, but Nicole stopped him.
“Wait. Do you know how to check the calibration on the unit?”
The two SEALs exchanged glances before looking at her and shaking their heads.
“Let me out of here,” she said. “We have to be sure we’re getting accurate results.”
Sam stared at her for a long moment, turning and looking at Joe who just shrugged his shoulders.
“For Christ’s sake, I’m not going to hurt anyone!” Nicole shouted, red eyes flashing.
After a long pause, Sam stepped forward and released the lock on the door to the isolation room. Pulling it open, he stepped aside as Nicole swept through the opening and told the SEAL to take her to the equipment.
50
With nothing to do other than wait, the Rangers and I sat in silence. TJ had finished his job, modestly accepting our praise for stepping up. We had briefly talked about what life had been like after the attacks, then had drifted off into our own private thoughts.
