ARES Virus (Book 3): Phoenix Rising

by O'Brien, John

  She’s scared to upset the peace she’s found in this world. Even though the demons scare her with their screams echoing throughout the city and surrounding neighborhoods day and night, they have left her alone. Their shrieks are a constant reminder that her world is still a dangerous place. There are times when she thinks they are her own demons meant to keep her where she is, unable to move on—trapped. But, she has faith. She conquered her addiction, although the cravings still return from time to time.

  A helicopter flies directly overhead, the beating rotors loudly thumping. The screams of the demons following soon override the sound, the very air vibrating from the constant shrieks. Rachel opens the door. The horde fills the street and neighboring yards. She watches as the chopper slowly flies toward downtown and the waterfront. Minutes pass with the demons flowing past her home before the tail end of the mass approaches. The demons reach upward, trying to grab the helicopter leading them.

  Across the city, other choppers slowly work their way to the waterfront, groups of demons following them. Curious, Rachel steps out of the door and follows at a distance. She wonders why this aspect of her old reality is gathering the demons of her current one. She’s been down to the waterfront several times in the past weeks and seen cargo ships riding at anchor. Several times, she saw what looked like warships moving in the distance, but she hurried away, not wanting further verification that the old reality was returning.

  Rachel follows the enormous group ahead just to see why they are gathering. An hour later, she stands atop the West Seattle Bridge, looking out over the industrial complex of the harbor. She is unable to proceed further through the demons packed tightly down every street, filling every park. The screams issuing from the hundreds of thousands of demons seem unreal, loud enough to shake the heavens. She feels the pavement under her feet vibrating from the volume of noise. In the distance, hovering over the water, helicopters are positioned at intervals offshore. She can’t see over the hills of West Seattle, but she imagines the demons there are packed just as tightly.

  She hadn’t realized that there were so many of them, that the entire town had changed. Perhaps all of the bad people were transformed, but she knows that can’t be true. These are demons of her own making…they are hers. The scary part is realizing that she has created so many. She watches more cross the bridge, nearly shoving her over the side. Then, they too are past, crowding the others even more tightly. The helicopters suddenly turn about and race across the waters.

  Rachel stands, mesmerized, but the wheels inside of her head turn relentlessly. She wonders if she’s about to make a breakthrough, whether the gathering is her mind responding to whatever treatment she may be undergoing. Or, it could be that she’s there to witness, that she’s about to be saved. Although she’s found peace in this world of hers, she is ready to go.

  Standing at the rear of the immense gathering, which stretches as far as she can see, she looks upward. Several streaks of light arc across the heavens, like meteors. Mimicking the demons, Rachel raises her arms skyward and closes her eyes.

  I’m saved! The angels are coming to take me away. Thank you.

  * * * * * * *

  The three airbursts flash over the infected, each one two miles from the others, forming a lopsided triangle. For six hundred meters around the impacts, the neighborhood houses disintegrate in blasts of heat, a shockwave extending outward for a couple hundred more, knocking down the wooden and brick structures. Fires erupt from broken gas lines, water spews from the mains. Around the perimeter of the blasts, sparks shower the streets from downed electrical lines. The greater damage is an invisible one. Radiation rides the shockwave, pouring over the massed infected. Many of those within the lethal zone simply fall minutes afterward. However, it takes days for those on the fringes to succumb. Stumbling through the city streets, they die painful and ugly deaths.

  After all was said and done, over four and a half million dead infected covered the city streets.

  Chapter Sixteen

  USS Mount Whitney

  November 3

  “Recon flights and satellite footage both indicate that the neutron warhead strikes were successful and significantly scaled back the number of infected,” Stevens begins the conference call with Gettins. “I don’t have any firm numbers, but from initial appearances, it seems like we’ve eliminated ninety-nine percent of those in the populated areas surrounding Puget Sound. We’re searching for any that remain. With that many dead, we won’t be able to push inland for some time, but at least we’ll have clean air and can begin the process of settling.”

  “There’s no lingering radiation?” Gettins asks.

  “Our readings indicate that there are traces remaining in some areas, but nothing approaching harmful. I’m giving it one more day before we move personnel and equipment to the naval air station,” Stevens briefs.

  “What about the Marines in quarantine?” Gettins inquires.

  “We had another outbreak among them. Several began exhibiting symptoms. We lost a few, but most were wearing protective gear that kept them from becoming infected. The remaining three hundred plus were moved to the northwest headland near Neah Bay ahead of the warhead strikes,” Stevens answers.

  “OK, so it looks like we may be out of the fire, but we need to keep a handle on it. Although it seems like we’ve been knocked backward a few times, we may finally have a little of the stability we’re searching for.”

  “Hopefully.”

  “Is there a chance of infected streaming in from outlying areas? Or more distant ones? There’s still over a million in the Portland area to the south, with some in the cities between,” Gettins asks.

  “That’s always a possibility. Satellite footage shows outward migrations from the larger cities. Tomorrow, we’ll be taking down the Tacoma Narrows Bridge and beginning a large land clearing operation of the Kitsap Peninsula neck to further isolate us. If we can completely clear the peninsula of infected, we’ll be able to dock our big ships and the subs that aren’t on patrol. However, we won’t be able to dock the entire fleet, and I hesitate using the Seattle port facilities at the moment. Perhaps in a month or so. That means most of the fleet will have to remain at sea with skeleton crews. Most of the personnel will be transferred to Whidbey Island. That will become our sanctuary.”

  “OK. I think we need to consolidate and hunker down before we push much further inland. The coming winter will hopefully do our work for us in the northern climates. I suggest we send teams out to shut off the power distribution to those areas, keeping only the places that we need online. That will prevent the infected from using the warmth provided by HVAC systems within the larger structures,” Gettins suggests.

  “So, everywhere but the lab in Montana and the missile launch control facilities we currently have manned?”

  “Yes, and Hanford of course. We need to do something about that sooner rather than later. The way I see it, it’s one of the last major obstacles to setting up shop there. If that starts leaking, it will contaminate the entire Columbia River basin for an eternity. With the southern winds dominant in winter, it’s highly possible that lethal amounts of radiation will blow toward your position and we’ll have to start all over again,” Gettins says.

  “I’ve thought a lot about Hanford, but haven’t come up with anything we can do, other than keep it powered. That’s an awfully hot site. Even if we can manage to remove the contents, what are we going to do with them?”

  “Well, we do have vast tracts in the eastern US that are currently unusable. One solution is to drop the waste near one of the sites already spewing radiation,” Gettins says.

  “But Hanford is easily ten or a hundred times what they’ll leak. And we can’t just drop it near the ice caps. Those will eventually melt and raise the water levels. The Marianas Trench has a current that eventually flows past the western US shores. However, my pessimism aside, you’re correct that we can’t just leave it where it is. I suppose the idea of depositing it far
to the east is the best option we have. I would say the desert regions, but we have the water tables to think of,” Stevens states.

  “For now, let’s just make sure it has a constant flow of power. I’m not an expert, but I would say that we can use the Bonneville Dam and the wind farms to supply power to the site and for our own supply. If all else fails, we can hook one of the carriers to the shore side power supply. With regards to dumping the waste, I’ll have computer simulations examine the ramifications,” Gettins comments.

  “Getting back to the missile crews, are we planning on bringing them back?” Stevens inquires.

  “How are they set up for supplies?”

  “They’re OK for several months, but if we delay much longer, they’ll be wintering there. They’ve weathered one winter storm and our long-range forecasts show more on the way,” Stevens answers.

  “How is the morale? And are the facilities good enough for that many for such an extended period?”

  “The report is that they’re doing well. It’s a little cramped and they’re rotating the topside personnel. They also indicate that having to wear the protective gear while topside is tiring, but they’re safe enough. With winter setting in, they may not have to worry about having to wear it for much longer. We’ll keep an eye on the surroundings. I assume you’re asking for a specific reason,” Stevens suggests.

  “Well, the success of the strikes has me thinking. What if we did the same thing around San Diego? There are larger facilities that could accommodate us. I contemplated Pearl Harbor as well, but hesitate as it would become too easily isolated. We won’t have the satellites for much longer and will have to rely on shortwave communications. I just don’t see the islands as a viable solution in the long run. However, San Diego is quite viable and we should be there in five days,” Gettins says.

  “So, you’re suggesting using some of what we have left in the neutron arsenal for a strike to clear out San Diego?” Stevens asks.

  “Yes. That would give us two bases to operate from, and the city is isolated enough from any other large population areas. If we do it correctly, we may not even have to use them all,” Gettins answers.

  “I agree about leaving Hawaii out of the equation, but San Diego would be viable. Would you remain south with the Sixth Fleet?”

  “Yes.”

  “That would make me king of the north, then?” Stevens says, grinning.

  “Remember that historically it hasn’t worked out well for anyone who claims that title,” Gettins responds.

  “Oh, true, there’s that. Never mind, then.”

  “So, our next step is to consolidate and reroute to isolate the power grid. I wouldn’t want something to happen far away that would take out our local supply. I’d say disconnect Bonneville and the wind turbine from the main grid, then reroute them locally and to Hanford, along with the silos and lab. Can we do that?” Gettins asks.

  “I’m sure we can figure something out. Personnel will begin transferring shore side tomorrow and I’ll plan for a team to head to Bonneville and eastern Washington. We’ll leave the grid connections up, but shut down the power supplying most of it. That will mean further treks inland to the major grid connections, but I don’t see that being a problem if we start now.” Stevens replies.

  “OK. And I’ll begin planning operations against the infected at San Diego when we arrive on the eighth. At some point down the road, we need to look at the longer range plans, such as going after the oil fields and refineries, or go the green route. Regardless, years down the road, we’ll lose the ability to use the fleet ships. We just won’t have the manufacturing capability to keep up maintenance, so any plan we make will have to be with that in mind.”

  “Agreed. We need to have our sanctuaries well secured by that point, and have established long-term sustainability. That means power, especially if we contemplate brining some manufacturing back online. And, it will facilitate any farming endeavors. If the doc in Montana can’t find a solution, we may have to deal with the infected for the foreseeable future,” Stevens says.

  “I know.”

  * * * * * * *

  Hamilton, Montana

  November 5

  Koenig looks through the microscope. To date, he hasn’t been able to figure out how Emily’s antibodies have been able to fight the ARES virus mutation. Nor has Hayward’s or Handley’s blood revealed much of anything. When he’s mixed their blood with the virus, ARES just dies. The protein shell surrounding the mutation disintegrates, killing the virus. The fact that it’s happening gives him hope that he’ll be able identify the appropriate antibodies. With Emily, the virus just isn’t able to attach itself to her immune system; something within her is holding it in check. She’s still contagious, but able to withstand the internal effects. It’s only been a few days, but he thought that he’d have made more headway.

  The frustration continues as he watches the virus interact with an altered form of the rabies vaccine. As with each time before, when he’s altered the rabies vaccine, the virus is able to quickly mutate itself, all the while retaining its original deadly properties. Although not intentional, he created ARES too well. And whatever he did, it created itself even better, being able to sustain itself for periods of time outside of a host. Like HIV, the mutations are too quick. Even boosting the immune system doesn’t seem to help. The virus just doesn’t seem to care and quickly overwhelms any fight the body puts up. All bodies, that is, except for Emily, Hayward, and Handley.

  Removing his eyes from the microscope, he’s saddened by the thought that he may not be able to cure her. The other infected have undergone too much damage to their systems, even if there was a way. However, the little girl residing in the level four lab deserves a chance. She may be the answer to a vaccine, but that will do little to help her if he can’t find out how to combat the rapid mutation of ARES.

  Koenig leans back, rubbing his tired eyes. If he can find a preventative vaccine, then she may have a chance at a normal life. The airborne nature won’t matter if everyone is vaccinated against it. However, with its ability to mutate, that may not work in her case. With ARES so deadly and able to mutate so quickly, he is hesitant about attempting to create a live virus vaccine.

  An alarm rings on his computer, alerting that it’s time for his conference call with the admiral. He isn’t looking forward to the conversation; the news he has to share isn’t good. The admiral already doesn’t like him, and that’s not about to improve with this chat. Reluctantly, Koenig starts the program.

  “Sir,” Koenig opens.

  “Colonel. I don’t have a lot of time here, so give me the edited version.”

  “Well, the virus mutates quickly. Everything I’ve done so far, the virus has been able to counter. I’m trying to narrow down how those immune are able to combat it, but haven’t been able to so far. I’m working to find a vaccine rather than a cure. The autopsies that I’ve done indicate that any kind of cure will be meaningless, except for any carriers. The body systems are just too damaged,” Koenig briefs.

  “Will the virus eventually kill the infected? Or are we looking at them being around for the long term?” Gettins asks.

  “Well, it seems the host is able to sustain itself. And they aren’t only able, but have the drive to do so. There seems to be a symbiotic nature, which is unusual with this type of virus,” Koenig answers.

  “So, long term.”

  “It appears that way, sir. I wish I had different or better answers, but that’s where we stand at the moment. I’ll eventually narrow down the antibodies, but I can’t say when.”

  “Keep at it, Colonel. We’re relying on you to come up with something,” Gettins states.

  “I know, sir. Before you go, though, may I ask a question?”

  Gettins nods.

  “It happened here, but I would like to know if it’s happening across the board. Are the infected enacting cannibalistic behaviors? Have they begun eating the weak or dead?” Koenig asks.

  �
�How would that help?”

  “Just something I’m working on. Any traits exhibited will help,” Koenig replies.

  “Well, we’ve observed some of that behavior, but I’m not sure to what extent.”

  “Sir, is there any way we could find out? I know you’re having to deal with a multitude of issues, but if we could find out to what extent it’s happening, it will go a long way toward figuring this mess out.”

  “I’ll have someone look into it, but I’m not sure we’ll come up with anything definitive. We’d have to catch them in action, and that requires significant satellite time that we’re using elsewhere. But, I’ll see what we can do.”

  “I understand, sir.”

  * * * * * * *

  Bonneville Dam, Oregon/Washington

  November 5

  The carpet of evergreen trees streaks past, the tops of the firs scant feet below the skids of the gunship. Wood-covered slopes rise steeply to either side with the tops of the ridge lines above the armada that is racing through the narrow valleys. G-forces push the pilots into their seats as they navigate the terrain, turning sharply around ridges of land snaking downward. The roar and thump of rotors reverberates off the slopes and is funneled down the valleys.

  The nose rises skyward as the gunship soars up a slope, crossing over the top of a saddle before plummeting down the far side and settling into another valley. The nap-of-the-earth flying is to minimize the sight and sound carrying of the gunships approaching the town of North Bonneville. It’s not that they care much about the infected within the town itself, but they don’t want to attract the attention of those who lie in other nearby cities.

  As they soar down the valley of Hamilton Creek, the gunner checks that the weapons are ready and online. Behind, other Vipers follow suit. Even further to the rear, the transports filled with Marines navigate the topography, waiting for the go order from the gunships.