ARES Virus (Book 3): Phoenix Rising

by O'Brien, John

  USS Mount Whitney, off the northern coast of South America

  October 26

  The ships of the Sixth Fleet roll through the heavy Atlantic swells, the smaller vessels’ bows plunging into the rising waves. Tons of water sweeps across the foredecks and is sent spraying against the bridges. Windshield wipers work to clear the water until the next deluge. Accustomed to the continual pitch of the ship, Gettins subconsciously adjusts to each movement, much like a cowboy riding a horse as he sits at the conference room table.

  They’ve been streaming south for nearly a week since the reactors scattered across the eastern United States went critical. With almost three weeks to go until they meet up with the Seventh Fleet, he stews over the length of time required to make their way around Cape Horn and begin their long journey back north. The Panama Canal is a no go from the start due to the infected, the close quarters they’d be in when going through the locks, and the number of ships. The risk of the virus infecting the crews is just too great.

  Gettins anxiously stares at the high-definition photos of the STRATCOM building located at Offutt Air Force Base in Nebraska. The preparations for the strike to reprogram a certain set of nuclear ICBMs are nearly complete. The supply highway to the middle of the country is finished, the operation waiting only for the completion of last-minute details. The worry etched across the admiral’s features is due to the fact that this is their last hope to secure a foothold on the continent. If they fail, they’ll have to sail away from the shores and find another place to settle. All of the work and lives lost to date will have been for naught.

  A chime indicates that Stevens has come online. After the usual preambles, they begin discussing the upcoming operation. Being some five thousand miles away from the area of operations makes Gettins feel like he’s out of touch; his inability to affect the outcome in any capacity makes him a little edgy.

  “The supply deployments were completed a little while ago, linking us with the Marines holding in their positions. After this is over, we’re going to have to pull those troops in for an extended rest. They’ve been in the field for some time, and I don’t have to remind you how tiring MOPP gear can be.

  “Now, as far as the operation itself, it may not be as difficult as we anticipated. However, without the ability to see through walls, we’re unsure what the situation inside the STRATCOM building will be. The plan is basically broken into three phases. First, we’ll have gunships draw out the infected from within the base and whittle down their numbers as best we can. That will hopefully minimize any of them that the ground troops may encounter if the entryways become compromised. The choppers will then withdraw, drawing any infected outside within the city proper to the northwest. Once we have secured the diversionary tactic, the transports will sweep in from the south and land two Marine companies on the roof of the headquarters building. One will proceed inside and clear a path to the operations center. The second will be held as a response team and to help keep the pathway open. A third will remain to the south as another quick response force. Once the Marines are dropped off, the helicopters will be held far enough away to keep the noises from reaching the base.

  “Once the Marines forge a path to the control center, the technicians will begin the process of reprogramming the missiles. The silos are currently online, and it’s imperative that they remain so. And, for this to work, power has to be supplied to the STRATCOM building as well. At the moment that’s not a problem as the grid is still operational. The technicians are going to set up remote access to the STRATCOM system, but if we lose power at that location, we’ll lose the ability to launch. Even though the launch is conducted from the individual launch control facilities, the proper codes still have to be sent.

  “With regards to targets, we’ve identified seven locations. One just to the northwest of Olympia, one along the shoreline near Tacoma, to the south of Seattle near the airport, and another north by Shoreline. Farther north, we’ll gather the infected in an area between Everett and Marysville. Across the waters, there’s an open area north of Bremerton, and then we’ll hit a large park area in the south part of Victoria. It’s going to take us a while to gather all of the infected in the widespread metropolis, possibly days. So it will be an around-the-clock operation to hold the infected in place once they’re gathered. Then we set a launch window and send the warheads aloft,” Stevens briefs.

  As the leader onsite, Stevens has been mostly responsible for the operational planning.

  “That’s as good a plan as any. When will you be ready to go?” Gettins asks.

  “Just waiting for your go-ahead, sir. I can issue the order today, give the troops a day to organize, and we can be ready to go on the 28th,” Stevens answers.

  “OK, let’s do it. With worse weather on the horizon, the sooner we do this, the better chance we have.”

  “Aye, sir. I’ll issue the go order as soon as we finish up here,” Stevens says.

  “All right, let’s get on with our other business. Did you get that colonel set up?”

  “He’s waiting online for us to connect him in,” Stevens answers.

  “OK, let’s get this over with. Bring him in.”

  The screen in front of Gettins suddenly splits in two.

  “Sirs,” the colonel begins.

  “Colonel,” Gettins replies. “I’m going to be honest here at the outset so we don’t leave an elephant sitting on the coffee table. I harbor a very distinct bias against you. While I understand why you did it, I cannot in any way condone it. You can well imagine where we’d be if everyone decided to up and leave to take care of their families.”

  “I understand, sir. I knew with absolute certainty what was coming, and my staying wouldn’t have changed a thing. In the back of my mind, it was also the only way for me to stay alive in order that I could help down the road, if that possibility presented itself. My being at the bunker wasn’t going to see that done. I have a rather unique understanding of the virus, or at least the original one. But, I’ll be honest, sir, it was mostly about seeing my wife to safety,” Koenig responds.

  “I appreciate your honesty, Colonel, but the fact remains that you abandoned your post. However, your knowledge is valuable, so you can see that leaves me in a quandary,” Gettins replies.

  “I can understand that, sir. I’d like to mention that we have a few unique individuals in quarantine with me. The two cadets that came in with me have an immunity to the virus, and the little girl who was just brought in may be a carrier. With those three, I can…”

  “What?! We have a carrier in quarantine?” Gettins exclaims, sitting more upright.

  “Yes, sir. I’m sure when she’s tested, it will show that she has the virus, but is asymptomatic. Now, if I could get to a level four lab facility…”

  “Now, hold on Colonel. I think you’re getting ahead of yourself. At the very least, nothing is going to happen until you’re cleared from quarantine—not by you, but by our own medical staff. And that’s aside from what we decide to do about your AWOL status,” Gettins interjects.

  “With all due respect, sir, and I do understand that my status is leaving you in a bind, but time is critical if we want to find a way to combat this. At least from a medical perspective. We may not be able to cure the virus, but there is the possibility of finding a vaccine for those remaining,” Koenig states.

  “Be that as it may, our focus right now is on creating a secure location before our supplies run out.”

  “I understand, sir. Let me just throw out that there is a fairly ideal level-four facility that would suit our purposes. Rocky Mountain Laboratories, located in Hamilton, Montana, will have the equipment needed onsite,” Koenig adds.

  “Like I said, Colonel, you clear quarantine and we’ll see,” Gettins states.

  “Excuse us a moment, Colonel,” Stevens chimes in; the screen showing Koenig vanishes.

  “Sir, I completely understand the position this puts you in, but with all due respect and with the risk of so
unding like an asshole, don’t’ let your bias toward the colonel override a good solution. Yes, we’re focused on the upcoming operation, and rightly so, but we have a supply route currently in place and a couple of SEAL teams with nothing to do. Perhaps we should clear him and let him go do his stuff with two teams as an escort. If he maintains continuous MOPP four protection until his quarantine is over, and if the girl maintains it at all times, then what’s the harm? Everyone ashore will have to maintain that anyway. If we research the location and are able to safely get him there, then I say let’s do it.

  “I know you don’t like him, or rather what he did. I don’t either, but his expertise is invaluable right now. If he created the virus and understands its intricacies, regardless of whatever mutations it went through, then we’re already ahead of the game. I’m not holding my breath, but you never know,” Stevens says. “Afterward, string him from a yardarm if you want.”

  The whole fucking world is against me, Gettins fumes, but he’s not so set in his ways that he can’t listen to reason. He realizes that he was hoping to push the issue aside until after the operation into Offutt was completed, and perhaps even further than that.

  “Okay, Stevens. You’re right. I don’t like it, but you’re correct nonetheless. Bring him back on.”

  “Colonel, can you undo this?” Gettins asks once Koenig rejoins the conference.

  “I can’t promise anything, but the lab will help. I need to study the mutation more closely before I’m able to come to any conclusions. We didn’t get a chance to study it as much as I’d have liked before the proverbial shit hit the fan. Sir, we may come out the other end finding that there isn’t a solution, but at least we’ll know what we’re up against,” Koenig answers.

  “OK, Colonel. We’ll see what we can do to facilitate you. Know that I have some conditions. One, you will not tell anyone what you did. I can’t allow that to get out, lest others see that you’re being treated differently than them. Yes, that’s not right on its own, and everyone may understand why, but that’s the way it is. Two, you will conform to the instructions of anyone we send to escort you with regards to security. You’ll be in charge of the medical side of operations, but they’ll have final say with regards to safety. Is that clear?” Gettins commands.

  “Yes, sir, completely understood. I’ll need the two cadets and the girl. They’ll be invaluable for any research into a possible vaccine.”

  “Very well, they’ll be released into your care. The carrier will have to be kept in isolation or in protective gear at all times, regardless of quarantine times. There will be no exception to this rule. Frankly, the girl scares me, as does the potential of other carriers out there. As I’m sure you’re aware, it only takes a single lapse to introduce the virus into our midst. If that happens, Colonel, we’re well and truly fucked. I know you’re better versed in these protocols, Colonel, but I just feel that it has to be said. We are nearly the last functioning vestige of humankind anywhere in the world. This doesn’t mean that you’re off my shit list, but if you manage to come up with something viable that will protect us, that will go a long ways toward removing you from it.”

  * * * * * * *

  Rainbow Falls Mountain Trout, Colorado

  October 27

  Although they haven’t received a real winter storm yet, a couple of systems have rolled through since Koenig and the others departed, filling the narrow valley with a carpet of snow. Drifts cover parts of the ice-covered lakes, making it treacherous to venture out to cut holes for fishing. Instead, Brown and Clarke have donned snow shoes and trekked deeper into the ravine to cast their lines in the frigid waters. Come spring, the flowing river will churn over and around the rocks in a series of rapids.

  Except for when they venture out to fish, the weather lately has mostly confined Brown and Clarke to the cabin. In the evening, the cabin filled with warmth from the woodstove, they play card games, read books, and tell stories—some true, others letting imagination take over. The past week has been about attempting to alleviate boredom mixed with freezing outdoor adventures.

  This day will hold the latter as they prepare the truck with supplies to drive toward Woodland Park some twelve miles south. Nestled within their little valley, the outside world is mostly an unknown. It’s been some time since they last heard the distant sound of rotors, and they have no idea whether any other people still survive or if the infected have eradicated nearly the last vestige. Their seclusion makes it easy to feel like they’re the only two left. Although he’d like to think that the others made it, his concern is for the two of them. Hard work before the weather set in made their lives a little more comfortable, but he knows they need to balance out their diet.

  He tosses a few tools and supplies into the bed of the truck that he just finished shoveling out. The white fields spread across the valley sparkle under the morning sun, one of the few sunny days they’ve had. Clear blue skies dominate overhead, but clouds rise above the snow-covered peaks in all directions.

  “Okay, that should do it. It’s going to take us some time to work our way south,” Brown says, setting his carbine and rifle in the warm cab. “Did you get the snow chains?”

  A clank from the bed of the truck announces the answer.

  “I did,” Clarke responds.

  “Snow shoes?” he inquires.

  “Well, I put mine in…Just kidding. They’re both there,” Clarke answers after a glower from Brown.

  “All right, let’s go. We need to be back before dark.”

  Driving through the gate, Brown navigates the 4WD pickup along the snowy road, the crunch of snow sounding beneath the tires. The route is easy enough to follow by the tops of fence posts poking through the snow. Brown drives with just enough speed to break through the snow and keep their momentum going.

  “Okay, so tell me again why we’re doing this? I mean, I get it, but I thought the idea was to stay away from the infected,” Clarke asks, making conversation.

  “Like I said, I’m pretty sure the freezing temperatures will have either chased the infected into warmer places, or turned them into popsicles. We’ll scout the town from afar, and if we see anything, we’ll skedaddle out of there. It’s imperative that we find the seeds and/or plants we need before the snows get too much deeper. Before long, we won’t be able to get very far. Besides, we needed to get out of the cabin, and it’s a nice day for it,” Brown states.

  He only knows that he’s reached the intersection with the highway because of the stop sign. In a nearly solid field of white, the red sign sitting atop its wooden pole looks incredibly out of place. Without bothering to stop, or even do a California roll for that matter, Brown guides the pickup onto the highway. Doing his best to keep the vehicle in the middle of the raised line of snow, he picks his way along through the pine trees whose limbs hang under the weight of the snow. The tops of the roadway markers help guide him and Clarke, a lone truck moving across a pristine snowfield in the middle of nowhere.

  “Do you feel a little guilty about not going with the others? I mean, do you feel like you’ve shirked your duty? I’m not saying anything bad and I know you were near retirement anyway. I’m just curious,” Clarke asks as they slowly work their way south.

  “It sounds like you’re asking a question of me that you’re really asking of yourself. However, there are times when I wonder if I should have gone with them. I don’t know what difference I would have made, though. To be completely honest, I was just done. Pineville was enough, and then to trek all of the way across a country filled with infected? Well, frankly, that just wore me out. I’ve been overseas so many times that I feel I should have been awarded a second citizenship. Just wasn’t sure I had it in me anymore. Instead of helping to carve out a larger sanctuary, as selfish as it sounds, I felt it important to carve out a smaller one of my own,” Brown responds.

  “Well, thank you,” Clarke says.

  “For what?” Brown asks.

  “For doing what you did and helping
me—well, all of us,” Clarke answers.

  Brown chuckles; “Lass, I was saving my own ass in that process. You just happened to be there as well.”

  “That’s not true and you know it. You could have left us anytime and got along just fine. There were plenty of times you went out of your way to make sure our asses were safe, too,” Clarke states. “You could have let me fall in that tunnel outside of Pineville. Instead, you caught me at the risk of your falling.”

  “You didn’t give me enough time to get out of the way,” Brown counters.

  “You would have caught me anyway, Grumpy.”

  The tree-covered slopes widen into a valley, sparsely spaced houses indicating that they’ve reached the outskirts of the small mountain city. Icicles hang from eaves, dripping as the temperatures rise above freezing. Piles of snow cover rooftops with deep drifts piled against the outer walls.

  Leaving the truck idling, Brown steps out and climbs into the truck bed, staring over the roof while letting the binoculars adjust to the temperature differential. The field of snow lies across the land, uninterrupted and pristine. In the distance, a church sits silent, patiently waiting for the return of its devotees. Several large lumps of snow in the parking lot show where some ventured to the place of worship, hoping to find answers in the midst of the madness.

  Bringing the glasses to his eyes, Brown surveys the scene in greater detail, looking for any sign of the infected. Everywhere he looks, the snow appears track-free. He knows that only means that there haven’t been any infected crossing this particular area since the last snowfall. With electricity still flowing into the area, there’s a chance that they could be sheltered within the warmer buildings. Climbing down, he begins driving closer to the central part of town.

  “Where are we going?” Clarke asks.

  “We’re going to pay a visit to Woodland Hardware and Home. That’s as long as the residents of the town allow us to visit,” Brown answers.

  “Did you see anyone?”

  “No, they appear to be otherwise indisposed at the moment,” Brown responds.