The president opened the folder and looked at the images. He gritted his teeth when he saw them. It was nothing less than repulsive.
“What the hell happened, Tom? Do we know?” The images of the bloodbath were disturbing on their own, but the bloodstained children in shorts who appeared to be cheering sent a chill down his back.
“We have no idea whatsoever, sir, none at all,” Transky said.
“These look like kids, why would they gather around like this?” Astor got up and looked over the pictures.
“They remind me of a primitive tribe.”
“My thoughts as well, Mr. President.”
“Hadlee and Stodge were wrong on so many counts, but the proposal to seal off the area is valid,” the president admitted.
“But if everyone with a steady diet of potatoes—particularly French fries—over the last few years is a potential sufferer, how much good will that do?” Transky took over Holmes’s role as devil’s advocate.
“We can’t stand around and do nothing, Tom. We can’t!”
“I agree, sir, but with Hadlee …”
“Never mind Hadlee.” The president dismissed it with a wave of his hand. “I’d like you to remain as a witness, Tom.”
It was now the president who looked like the rat that made off with the cheese.
“Certainly, sir, can I ask what this is about?”
The intercom buzzed, announcing the arrival of Secretary of Homeland Security Shaun Hadlee, with Chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff General Stodge. The president went over to his desk without answering Tom’s question.
“Send in General Stodge, that’s General Stodge only. Understood?”
The president stood by his desk until he received confirmation that his orders were understood.
“Take a seat, General.” The president gestured toward the two couches in the center of the room, before the Great Seal of the United States and the Resolute desk.
The creases in Stodge’s uniform were as sharp as a knife, and with his cap under his arm, he wasted no time.
Astor sat next to the general while Tom sat with the president on the couch opposite. No coffee, tea, or cold drinks were offered. It was down to business.
First the attorney general explained the legalities of Hadlee’s claim to power, or rather, lack of one. When the president saw Stodge swallow hard, he knew he could work on him.
“You see, General,” the president began, “the real reason Hadlee wants to go through with this tactical strike, as he calls it, is to give him a pretext to claim power. But as has been explained to me, such an act would be considered treason and all those associated with him will also fall.”
It was a thinly veiled threat, and it grabbed the general’s attention—and then some.
Tom Transky eased himself back onto the couch. He had a full view of the picture now. Hadlee’s balls were in a vise, and the President was turning the handle—not without a degree of pleasure, either.
A few minutes later, Hadlee was summoned to the court of the executioner. Judging by the look on his face, that’s how it appeared. No one stood to greet him, especially not the president, who told him to sit—not on the couch with the others, but in a separate chair, as the accused. The president laid it out for him. Nothing was held back.
“The general here has made the right decision, as did Richard Holmes. And you also see, the judicial process is on the side of democracy and not the cowardly actions of rebellious power-seeking traitors.”
Everyone else squirmed in their seats, glad they were not on the receiving end of this. The president had the gloves off for this rematch.
“Your resignation will be on my desk within twenty-four hours, Hadlee, and no charges will be brought forward, otherwise …” The president left the condemned to guess what that might be. Hadlee had no idea, but knew it wouldn’t be pleasant.
Hadlee stood up, thanked the president and the others in the room, and left as fast as he could. His career, plans, and ambitions, all defeated.
“I should have known something was afoot when lawyers get together.” Tom smiled at the president after Hadlee closed the door behind him.
The president and the attorney general joined in a laugh with Tom. Even General Stodge joined in, the relief evident on his face.
Ten
The sun rose in the east as it had before man ever set foot in Idaho or on the North American continent. Before the Indians who lived in harmony with the earth and before the white man came who destroyed it and everything else in the pursuit of money and power. This day, the sun didn’t look right.
“It looks sad,” Cindy said.
“Pardon me?” Elliot asked.
Another day had dawned, but she wasn’t looking forward to it. She was glad to be alive, no question there, but was there anything left to live for? That was the real question.
She and Elliot had taken their coffee out onto the porch. With the sun up, the fear of foamers was minimized.
“The sun. It looks sad, like it knows.”
“Knows what? I’m not sure I understand you, Cindy.”
“I think she means is the sun, as the face of God, is looking down upon us and sees a society that is doomed. Doomed through its own greed and lust. The sun shows its grief.” The Tall Man had overheard.
“I didn’t think that deep about it,” Cindy said. “I just thought it looked sad.”
“I didn’t think you were the religious type, Chuck.”
“I’m not, Elliot, not at all. There’s a theory that God is the universe itself. Without it, life wouldn’t exist. If there is any theory I’d follow, it would be that.”
“I’ve read about it, too. It’s kind of how I feel,” Elliot admitted.
“Regardless of what you believe or don’t, it does appear like the sun has a message for us.” Mulhaven joined the conversation with another coffee.
“We’ve got to get out of here today, Riley. We can’t stay around with all these foamers around at night.”
“We certainly do, Elliot, but we’ll need to another truck or van. Your friend Roger told me there are plenty of vehicles in town to choose from.”
“Well, let’s get to it.”
“Hang on, Elliot. We don’t just rush off, remember?” Mulhaven reiterated the agreed-upon rules. While Elliot was the magnet that had brought everyone together, Mulhaven was the glue that held them together. He didn’t want any more incidents like the one that had cost poor Neddy Gorden his life.
“I don’t like the idea of splitting up either, Riley, but we have no choice if we’re to get more wheels.”
“All right then, we’ll keep half here and the rest can go into Shoshone to grab a truck.”
“What about a motor home, Mr. Mulhaven?” Roger joined in.
“Call me Riley. We don’t have time for the ‘mister’ bullshit,” Mulhaven said then thought about Roger’s idea.
“We’d still need another vehicle, preferably with a bit of grunt under the hood, like a Hummer perhaps. With a motor home, we’ll have to stop more often to get gas, and if we run out of gas where there are no vehicles …”
“This could work.” The Tall Man stepped in. “We keep walkie-talkies in each vehicle and remain in sight of each other. Two hours before dark, we look for a place—a secure place—to hole up. No traveling at night, period. It’s too dangerous.”
The Tall Man was the tactician, all right. He knew his shit.
“Okay then. Who wants to come, and who stays behind?” Elliot asked.
“I’ll take Elliot and Roger and … Allan,” the Tall Man said.
“Allan?” Mulhaven asked. “Are you sure, Chuck?”
“Yep,” was all the Tall Man said. He didn’t waste his words, which everyone had come to know already.
“Roger, grab your shotgun. Elliot, get your Redhawk and one of the Colt Deltas for Allan. You drive the pickup, Roger, and I hope you’re not attached to it.” The Tall Man issued the orders before he called out to Allan, who
was still inside the house. “Allan, come along, son!”
While Elliot went to the van to get the hardware, Roger went into the house to get the keys for the Ford F-250.
“Get a motor home with a good sized fridge, Chuck. We’ll be able to keep frozen foods, and that means no more noodles in a cup or jerky,” Mulhaven said.
“Speaking of food,” Elliot said, “those fresh vegetables and eggs Margaret made for us were fantastic, weren’t they? I didn’t think I’d taste anything like that again. Well, who can say, maybe we will in Canada.”
“Yeah, who can say?” Mulhaven said. “And Chuck, let’s be careful out there, okay?”
* * *
“Do we know what happened to cause this?” Roger asked as they drove into Shoshone.
“Like I told you just before graduation, it was the fries, man! The fuckin’ fries.”
Elliot recounted the developments in the center of Twin Falls on break-out day, after he met Cindy, then met Mulhaven.
“And how did you get into this group, Mr. Black?”
“Chuck. Just call him Chuck,” Allan informed Roger then winked at the Tall Man.
“I was just lucky to have stumbled onto them,” was all the explanation the Tall Man gave. “Now, tell me how it unfolded around here.”
People were sick from a long time back, Roger began, his aunt had told him this when he first arrived. He went on to explain how a week ago, hundreds had arrived in town looking for medical assistance but were sent home.
“The doctors sent them home?”
“Yeah, told them it was just a stomach flu, but there were specialists from a government disease center …”
“Centers for Disease Control?” the Tall Man proffered.
“Yeah, that’s the place. Well, the next thing we knew, people were dying then got back up, spewing green everywhere and attacking others,” Roger paused to take a tight turn on the road. “These foamers, as you call ’em, are they really the walking dead?”
* * *
Two hours later, the Tall Man and his friends returned, incident-free. Elliot drove a 2013 Fleetwood RV Bounder gas motor home while the Tall Man drove a black 2007 Hummer H3. Mulhaven heard the vehicles and came to greet them.
“Well, well, well, look what the cat dragged in!” he said, smiling.
“Yeah, Riley, wait till you see it, you’ll love it.” Elliot stepped down from the driver’s seat.
“Look at this, Riley!” The Tall Man beamed as he got out of the civilian version of the famed military vehicle. “Look!”
The Tall Man wore a grin almost as wide as the the rear door of the Hummer. Mulhaven looked in and almost fainted.
“If this is your idea of a joke … “Mulhaven said as he stared, nonplussed, at the dozen or more boxes of jerky, “I’m not laughing.”
Roger, Elliot, and Allan did. “Good one, Chuck.” Elliot gave him a thumbs-up.
“Seriously, Riley, come look at this.” The Tall Man led Mulhaven over to the motor home. “Go in, go in.”
Mulhaven pulled himself up the step and went inside. “Wow, this looks impressive indeed, don’t it?”
“And check this out.” Elliot joined them and opened the fridge. “This side is the fridge, and the other is the freezer. And look!”
Elliot opened the freezer side to show Mulhaven the frozen foods they’d filled it with.
“And down here,” the Tall Man said. “We found a generator. We won’t find power anywhere, so we’ll need this. It will mean more gas has to be found and stored, but we grabbed a few extra gas containers. We should be okay.”
Mulhaven nodded his approval, and the smile grew on his face. It had been some time since he had smiled, and this was a genuine smile.
“I think we should all get some coffee and a bite. There’ll be a roll call and a weapons check in fifteen, and then after that … Canada. But that will depend on whether we can get Cindy out of the shower in time.”
“Yee, ha!” Roger wailed then gave Allan a high five.
Fifteen minutes later, Mulhaven stood on the front porch, clipboard in hand, ready to take inventory. He looked every bit like a drill sergeant.
“I’ve stored all the extra weapons with ammunition in the motor home,” the Tall Man said before Mulhaven started.
“Okay. Do you know exactly which weapons we have in the motor home, Chuck?” Mulhaven asked.
The Tall Man produced a list from his pocket. “We’ve got four crossbows with approximately five hundred bolts for them. Four 870s with three hundred rounds each, four AR-15s with five hundred rounds apiece, a .340 Weatherby Magnum with two hundred rounds and two Ruger 10/22s with a thousand rounds each, plus some extra combat and hunting knives, machetes, and whatnot.”
“Good. Now, what about personal carries?” Mulhaven moved it along. “Let’s start with you, Chuck.”
He pulled his Desert Eagle from its holster. “Well, I have this with about a thousand rounds for it, and I also carry this as a backup.” He raised the leg of his pants and freed a Japanese Tanto from its sheath.
Mulhaven looked at the menacing blade and raised an eyebrow in Elliot’s direction.
Hate to bump into Chuck in a dark alley!
“I just have this,” Elliot said as he rested his hand on the grip of the massive Ruger Super Redhawk on his hip.
“I’ve got this Colt Delta,” Cindy said when it was her turn.
“I’ve got the same weapon, thanks to Chuck.” Allan was elated that he was trusted to carry a gun. He knew little about them, but it made him feel like one of the group—like he belonged.
“I carry this SPAS-12 everywhere I go … even when I go …” Roger said.
“Thanks Rog … I think we get the picture.” Elliot rolled his eyes. Same old Roger.
“And I have this.” David Grigsby pulled out a Colt Navy single action .44-40 from an old duffel bag. “I got a couple of hundred rounds for it too.”
“And I’ve got a 9mm Sig Sauer plus this .38 revolver,” Mulhaven added.
“Why don’t you give it to Mrs. Grigsby? We can’t have anyone unarmed,” the Tall Man said.
“You know how to use this?” Mulhaven asked Margaret.
“You better believe she does. Damn better with a handgun than most men I’ve ever seen,” David answered.
“All right, I say we look good. If there are any last-minute items you can think of or you might need, grab it now. We roll in five minutes.”
“I got some fresh and frozen vegetables, as well as some homemade juice. That’s all,” Margaret said as she dashed back into the house to get them.
Moments later, the engines of the van, the Hummer, and the motor home all fired up. They figured they would have almost a full day of driving before they would need to look for a secure spot to hide out. With the comfort of the motor home, better quality food, and some new friends, their future seemed brighter already.
The sun no longer looked sad as it shone down upon the three vehicles as they made their way north toward Canada—and another chance at life.
Eleven
Next morning, after his first good sleep since the crisis in Idaho started, the president sat down to read through the first editions of the newspapers with his first cup of coffee, a daily ritual for US presidents since George Washington took office. The headline of the Washington Post jumped out at him, causing him to spill his coffee over his pants. He grabbed the interoffice cell phone and immediately called his chief of staff.
“Have you seen the paper, Tom?” the president said as soon as the phone was answered. “No? Then you better go take a look, but let me give you the headline: ‘Ebola Outbreak, State Decimated’.”
“What? Ebola? Who reported that, sir?” Tom was half asleep.
“It’s on the front page of the Post, and the Washington Times has a similar headline. It’s interesting that none of the New York papers mentions anything like it.”
“Ebola … Where would they get an idea like that from?”
�
��Oh my God!”
“What is it, sir? What’s wrong?”
“There’s a quote here. I’ll read part of it. ‘If the situation is as untenable as it’s presumed to be, then we may not have any other option other than a tactical nuclear strike to prevent the spread of the disease.’ End quote.”
Tom fell silent for a moment. There was only one person in the government who supported such a measure.
“Hadlee?”
“You’re damn right it was Hadlee!” The president fumed. “Tom? … Tom? Are you still there?”
“Is his resignation on your desk as asked, sir?”
“Damn! I had such a good sleep I’d forgotten about it, give me a moment …”
The president came back to the phone a few seconds later. “No, Tom. It’s not.”
“You have to have him silenced, sir, there is no other choice … and sir?” Tom’s voice lowered. “The sooner the better, for all our sakes.”
The president had never thought he would hear his chief of staff of so many years suggest such a thing.
“What the hell do I do now?” the president asked aloud after he ended the call.
He walked over to his desk, paused for a moment, and spoke into the intercom. “Have Richard Holmes from DTRA brought up here … now!”
When you’re in hell, you may as well shake hands with the devil.
Twelve
On the same morning, a few hours later and on the other side of the country near Lolo Pass, Montana, Elliot woke his friends for another day of uncertainty. Before nightfall, they’d pulled off US 93 onto a side road and parked among a clump of tall pines. They were a good distance from any population center, and there were no farmhouses nearby. No people meant no foamers, and that was how they wanted it. The motor home afforded a good night’s sleep, and the warm water and meals lifted everyone’s spirits.
“If we stay on the 93, we should make it to a place called Windermere Lake or nearby today,” Mulhaven said over a breakfast of eggs and toast. The eggs and bread wouldn’t last, but they had adopted a “use it or lose it” policy. Besides, they might be able to get a hot meal again in Canada. “I don’t know how badly Canada’s been affected by all this, but this lake area shouldn’t be populated.”
The Beginning of the End (Book 2): Toward the Brink II Page 4
