"What's he doing here?" Jones exclaimed as Alex and Lisa entered hand in hand. "He's infected! He shouldn't be allowed near anyone! In fact, he should be locked up..."
Jones may have been the only one to vocalize disapproval, but he wasn't the only one to step back. Marilyn pulled Christopher in close and shifted to a "safer" position behind Kelly and Dylan.
"I sure as hell know I'm not the only one thinking that! He might be your friend, but he's the walking dead, and he's carrying the infection and can change at any moment!”
Jones pointed across the room.
“You, with the boy. Do you want him next to you or your son when he changes?"
Alex looked over at Marilyn; her eyes were unwilling to meet his. Despite rescuing her and her son from the WHO in Vancouver, Alex found no support in the widow.
"I didn't think so! He should be quarantined! He should be-"
Lisa Spencer's Converse shoes tapped lightly on the floor as she marched over to Jones and slapped him open palm, across the face.
"You should beashamed of yourself!IfAlex changes, I would still sooner stand next to him than you, you coward!"
Jones reached up to his reddened face, shocked. His lips opened and closed as if trying to muster a rebuttal, but no words came.
Alex's eyes widened and he lipped the words "Thank you" as Lisa walked back to him.
He accepted her hug, and then kissed her forehead. He looked around at the faces that had once been cautious and weary, but after witnessing the unsuspecting scene themselves, the general tone shifted.
Steve walked over first, emotionless, but his position spoke for itself. Then Nick arrived with a hand on Alex's shoulder, followed by Travis and almost everyone else. Alex offered a half smile and head nods to the loyal.
"You're all crazy," Jones grumbled, rubbing his rosy cheek. He sauntered off and leaned against the far wall.
"Now that the exercise in solidarity is over,” President Tufase began, “we have some important matters to discuss. You all heard my recording earlier. You all know what is at stake. Sergeant Major West, David, Dennis, and I, have been discussing the best course of action..."
His speech made it that far before a vicious round of bloody coughing took over, worse than any before. Charlie immediately checked Joshua’s blood pressure. Upon conclusion, the Canadian’s face was bleak.
Joshua wiped his hand on the already soiled sheets. "Maybe it's best if you take over."
"Very well, Mr. President," West answered, glancing at Agent Clint whose expression portrayed gross disapproval. "As the President said, we have decided on the best course of action. We are going to head south to the facility that is manufacturing Ambrosia. We will destroy any and all of the vaccine. The Ambrosia is our number one priority. We have to stop the LIFE Corporation from administering it to the public. We don't know what the reason behind their plans, but we do know that it has something to do with the vaccine. Agent Clint knows the way to, and the layout of, the facility. We will put together a plan and attack the facility before the shipments depart for their destinations. After, we will seek government and military support."
Immediately, dissent surfaced.
"I'm sorry, but what do you expect from us? We aren't soldiers. Some are just children," Marilyn said, putting her arm around Chris, who during the speech, had drifted closer to Jenny.
"Marilyn's right,” Ally followed, concerned. “We know nothing about warfare. Do you expect us to fight, too?"
"Everyone will have a role to play.”
Then came a round of laughter from behind the group. Finally, words followed Jones' obnoxious interruption. "I can’t believe what I’m hearing. You want to attack her production facility? Do any of you remember what I said? Liz Baron has a private army, and I would put my entire fortune that many of whom will be guarding that site..."
He paused and began pointing at each person in the group.
"Six. There are six people who have military experience in this room, a couple guys who are probably decent shots, and the rest are women and children."
West growled. "You forgot to add one coward to your count.”
"Hey, I can fight!" Jenny declared, stepping forward.
"I'm going to ignore the insult and child soldier," Jones continued. "For once, will you stop and think rationally? There is no way that a handful of you will be able to do this! You are nuts to think you can!"
"That's your opinion-"
"That's a fact!"
At this point, the room erupted into chatter. Dylan was trying to convince Ally why he should be a part of the attack. Ally was angry that her brother was even considering the possibility. Kelly was asking Charlie not to go, but her words didn't carry much weight. Marilyn withdrew further and continued to petition for the safety of her and her son.
Amidst the heightened complaints and concerns, some like Eddy, Travis, and Alex, questioned the attack plan and inquired further, but for them, it was difficult to hear.
Then came an ear-piercing whistle. The boiling pot of emotions and words lowered to a simmer, and all eyes waited for Matty Finch to speak.
"I might have an idea that can satisfy both sides. What if the group splits? We are planning on going to another bunker like this, right? What if some of us go there and try to get help, and those who want to fight can go do so? West, I know what you mean about getting to the facility and destroying the vaccine, but you have to agree that some of the people here are not suited for that kind of action. Plus, the public needs to hear the President's message. This is our evidence. This is our ace in the hole. I found a laptop and some cables, and on the way to the bunker I can prep the video to upload and view."
Agent Kim concurred. "That’s what I said before. We can caravan down to the Ambrosia facility and split off around there."
"I-I like that idea," Marilyn declared, offering her vote with a raised hand.
Ally and Kelly, too, sided with that alteration of the plan.
The others, however, were mixed and unsure.
"I don't think any of you realize the importance of this mission. If we don't stop the trucks before they leave the facility, there will be no stopping them at all..."
West’s slight shake of the head widened until his mind was set in stone.
"I'm sorry, but that is unacceptable. I don't expect everyone to fight, but there are many jobs and much preparation that needs to take place, and we need every able body to have the best chances of success. We will go to the other bunker but not until after."
"Check yourself, West. That's not your call. The President will be the one to decide. Sir, what should we do? Sir?" Dennis Clint said, turning to his Commander in Chief.
It took multiple nudges, but the President's eyes blinked heavily. At some point, Joshua’s body had taken him out of the conversation. "Yes? What is it?"
"Some have suggested an alternative course of action. What would you like us to do?"
"I-it's-you-do," he said, pausing to inhale after each word. The single words continued and so did the incoherent ambiguity of the collective response. Joshua’s voice trailed off as he went back to unconsciousness.
"He's in shock. He's dying," West declared simply. "He isn't in the best shape, and it is apparent that he is unable to process complex information…”
Clint’s chest puffed out as though he was preparing physically to defend the honor of his President.
“I mean no disrespect," West continued, raising a peaceful hand to the air. "We know what the President wanted. He wanted us to fight. To take down Liz and her company. I know many of you feel this isn't your fight, like this has nothing to do with you, but you are wrong. This has everything to do with you. There is no one else. I wish the time frame offered us different options, but it doesn't. This is the way it has to be. I can't force any of you to come along with me, and I can't promise you'll make it through this alive, but what you choose to do will have a direct impact on the world's future. That much I can assure you. The
option not to act will have terrible, unforeseen consequences. So I ask all of you to reconsider and join me. Please, I cannot do this alone."
Then came the first reply. Unfortunately, the response wasn't exactly what West hoped for.
"If we can drive fast enough," Agent Kim began, "we might be able to make it to the bunker and get the government and what's left of the military to help us take out the plant and the trucks."
"Like I said, by that time it will be too late."
"I don't get it, who made you in charge?" questioned Jones.
"He's not,” Agent Clint snapped. “If anything, this is a matter for the Secret Service.”
"Then who is?"
"Someone has to step up,” West said, literally stepping forward. “I have the background and know-how to lead this to the end."
"A leader would guilt trip people," Jones rebutted sarcastically.
"What I've said wasn't meant to coerce or guilt any of you into action. What I’ve said is a fact, not a what-if, maybe, or possibility. If we do not act, the bad guys will win. It's that simple."
No one knew exactly who was in charge, or who would be. West's claim to leadership made sense, though his opinions weren't welcomed by everyone. Clint's proposal that the Secret Service should handle things was also justified. But one certainty remained. They needed to act.
As the temperature in the room physically rose, and contenders declared their intentions for leadership and courses of action, a soft laugh drew every ear back to the President.
"Sir, what's funny?" Agent Kim asked.
Joshua Tufase continued to chuckle through a tickled throat. "It's ironic," he managed, clearly and in one breath.
"What is?"
Joshua licked his chalky lips. His response took some time, but he completed it.
"There's always politics. I could never get away from it. Everyone wants to be a leader until they know what it really means, until they know what it really costs. I didn't hear it all, but I caught what counts. West is right. There isn't enough time, and attacking the Ambrosia facility is the main mission. The only mission is to stop LIFE, and it starts with that facility and that vaccine."
West did not boast or display any satisfaction with the President siding with him. Instead, he attempted to clarify.
"Not everyone will be a foot soldier. Like in the military, everyone will have a job. We'll need people to prepare food, check and double check equipment, load magazines and ammunition. Others will be in control of communications. Some will be scouts. There is plenty of work to be done without pulling a trigger. I do need shooters, but when the time comes, we will go over that..."
He stopped and made sure to look each person in the eye.
"Look, for this to work, I need everyone. After the attack, we can go to the bunker and explain the situation and everything about Liz Baron and LIFE, butthis needs to happen first, and soon."
It took a moment, but after the President's confirmation, most seemed willing. Some were reluctant, but upon hearing that not every role would be combative, their minds were more at ease.
"Well, what are we going to do about supplies?" Marilyn asked. "We used a lot getting here didn't we?"
“After seeing the numbers, what has been collected here will be enough. Water’s fine but we will most likely be rationing food. We won't be starving, but we won’t be eating three squares either. We'll survive until we find more, I promise."
"We should attempt to hunt when we can," Nick suggested. "The land will provide what it can."
"I don't know what you're thinking, chief,” Jones interrupted, “but I for one am not eating damn squirrel or snakes. Where's this facility at?"
"Wow, you're coming?" Travis asked incredulously.
"Obviously. Everyone else is, and I'm not going off on my own."
Kim pointed to the exact location on the map. "Right there.”
"Well, isn't this your lucky day? I happen to own property near there," Jones said, sliding his finger twenty miles north of their target. "I'm pretty sure the houses will be full of supplies."
"What is a millionaire doing with property in Middle-of-Nowhere, Nevada?" Alex asked.
"First of all, billionaire, and if you must know, it is a private resort for the wealthy who look to get away from people like you."
"People like us? What...nice? Respectable? Hardworking?"
"No, I mean poor," Jones replied, uncaring how offensive the remark was. "Naggy, Democratic whiners who want people like me to pay for their food, their unemployment, their medical bills-"
"So you're telling us you built a resort in the middle of nowhere just to get away from poor people?"
"Yes."
"Wow. Rich people problems."
"You are ridiculous!"
"It's people like you and your elitist friends-"
"Enough!" West interrupted. "We are wasting time. Jones, can you get us there?"
"Yes."
"Good. We will drive today, stay at the house and leave early in the morning to do recon. Then, assuming the trucks haven't left, we finalize our strategy and attack ASAP."
"And in the event the trucks leave before we get there or before we make a plan?" Alex asked, and based on West's stern reaction, he put up both hands. "Hey, I'm not shitting on your apple pie, I'm on board with this, but I think it is a very real possibility. We don't know their exact time table, right?"
Jones snorted. "What does it matter? By then, you don't really expect to still beyou, do you?”
Alex could feel the oncoming demoralization of ostracism, but anger took over. "Oh get fucked," he cursed, stepping toward Jones, but Travis pulled him back.
"He does have a point," Marilyn agreed. "Is he going to be in the car with us? What happens if he changes?"
"He shouldn't be allowed to come with us."
"What part of everyone is needed do you not understand?” answered West.
"The part where he is a ticking time bomb."
"Man's got a point," Clint added. "He is a risk."
"Alex hasn’t changed yet," Steve said, backing up his cousin. "If he's not allowed to come along, I'm out."
"Me, too," Nick declared.
"Me, three," added Travis.
Both Dylan and Charlie agreed.
"Little guy's been looking out for us since we met. We sure as hell aren’t leaving him now.”
"Yup. We’re with you, Alex.”
Alex wanted to vocalize his appreciation, but his lips wouldn't move, and he didn’t want to risk a cracking voice.
"We don't have time for this," West growled impatiently. "Alex is going and that's final. Everyone get moving. I want to be out of here in five. Steve, he's yours to watch."
"I don't need a babysitter," Alex rebutted. "I'll drive one of the trucks by myself."
Lisa wrapped her arm around his midsection. "I'm coming with you."
"Alright let's get moving people!" West said, clapping his hands.
Clint grabbed West by the shoulder. "We aren't leaving the President here like this."
"Like hell you aren't," Joshua rebutted, his words no longer carried the same power behind them as they once did. His cracked lips and tongue were chalked with pasty saliva. "Watching me die is just a waste of time. You all need to get going..."
Clint attempted to argue, but Joshua’s mind was made up.
“That’s an order.”
Each survivor passed by the President, wishing him a painless farewell. West and the two Secret Servicemen remained behind, waiting as Charlie dosed Joshua with painkillers.
The President’s eyes rolled in ecstasy. "What did I just tell you? Get out of here and leave me in peace."
"Mr. President, we don't think it's right that you die alone."
"Alone, David? Hell, I've craved a minute of solitude since I took office my first term."
The men chuckled sadly.
"Now, what are you waiting for, get out of here!" President Tufase demanded, putting the last of his strengt
h into the words. "Go save the world!"
Almost in unison, the men raised hands to their brows and saluted the President. Waiting near the door, the others mirrored the motion.
Now more than ever, the survivors were empowered. The patriotism and derived inspiration tingled like goosebumps.
They were determined to fight.
Resolute to succeed.
Hell-bent on hard, bloody, justice.
Hanson private Airport
Outskirts of Dobbins County, Utah
November 30, 2009
1613 hours
The turbines of two separate Gulfstream jets started up as the pilots prepared for takeoff. The high-pitch ringing sound echoed off the airport's lone aluminum hangar, startling the perched birds, wandering deer, and forest animals.
It had been a long, uncomfortable journey to visit the Vice President. After taking off from Blue Springs, Elizabeth Baron had transferred to one of her private jets. From there, the airplane sped southeast intent on landing at the government controlled airstrip adjacent to the bunker. However, a thunderstorm covering the area forced the pilots to divert to Hanson Airport, whereby, Liz was escorted to the bunker by way of purloined ground transportation. The trip should have lasted less than two hours in total; however, the delays extended the timeframe to an exhausting five hours.
Elizabeth Baron showed every bit of her frustration as she stepped out from the rusted green Ford Explorer. She took the hand of a Guardsman as she slid off the fabric.
"Damn cramped seats!" she cursed from behind large frame sunglasses. "These older models have zero leg room. Whoever the owner was deserves to be shot."
"Sorry, ma'am," said Kurt Brennamen, leader of Liz's personal squad. "There weren't many choices for us to use."
Liz ignored the unsympathetic apology as she continued with her phone call. "I am rambling, where were we? That's right, our timetable..."
The Longest Road (Book 3): The Other Side Page 5
