Ahead, the huge mass of the USS George Washington makes its way through the channel, crewmen in white lining the edges of the flight deck. It’s how they always enter port, but this time, there’s no one gathered to watch, the dead the only witnesses. Although they aren’t entering their homeport, this is to be their new base for the foreseeable future.
Vessels form a single line of ships entering, small waves rolling out from slow moving bows and a gentle white wake trailing. Normally, tugs would guide each ship into its berth, but the ships will have to inch their own way today. Crewmen were shuttled ashore to help with the lines at the docks to secure each warship. Leaving the Eisenhower out to sea, along with its escort vessels, Gettins ordered the rest into port. The order to don MOPP level four gear remains in effect, and he’ll keep it that way until he’s convinced beyond a shadow of a doubt that the air is and will remain uncontaminated. The tragedy of what happened to the Essex is fresh in his mind. With them being so close to establishing a second land base, he’s not willing to risk the rug being pulled out from under him in these waning moments. Under the warm, sunny skies of Southern California, most of the Sixth Fleet maneuvers into port and docks.
* * * * * * *
San Diego, California
November 20-23
Over the next few days, the Marines are sent out in force. Bulldozers roll through the city streets, gathering the infected that died in the open. Dump trucks drive to dig up golf courses and millions of bodies are dumped into deep pits. The bodies are covered under tons of dirt and the areas memorialized.
Gettins realizes that the operation is conducted without much dignity toward the dead—former American citizens—but it’s the only way to clean up so many bodies without taking months, and without the possibility of disease becoming a reality. Three days after docking, the fifth since testing concluded all areas were free of contamination, Gettins orders the Eisenhower into port and rescinds the orders for the protective gear. Cheers ring throughout the port facilities as the news goes out, many breathing fresh air for the first time in days. The rejoicing rolling throughout indicates that the second sanctuary has been attained.
Chapter Eighteen
San Diego, California
November 25
Admiral Gettins leans forward in his soft chair, studying the satellite images spread across the conference table. What they indicate is troubling: The infected are beginning to push out of the major cities and are moving en masse. While the distant cities aren’t much concern, the nearer ones are. The greater Los Angeles area has upward of eighteen-and-a-half million, and they all seem to be slowly migrating south. The seven million further north around San Francisco also seem to be moving in their direction. Although far away, it’s still a concern. In the north, the two plus million infected in and around Portland is moving north.
No matter how he looks at the photos and data, the evidence is clear. The infected are moving in the direction of the sanctuaries they’ve carved out. With only three neutron warheads remaining in their inventory, there’s no way three square miles of coverage will put a dent in the twenty-five million infected heading their way. And, with every ounce of firepower in both fleets, he doubts that they’ll be able to stem the tide.
Analysts have looked at the data and haven’t come up with any reason why the infected have begun moving in their direction. They’ve seen the infected branching out when food sources in the area began to run short, and have learned they exhibit some cannibalistic tendencies among themselves, but they can’t figure out why they are coming directly toward their established bases. They have considered whether it is due to the sound of aircraft, gunfire, or the possible sight of smoke, but haven’t come up with any solid conclusions. The bottom line is that millions are headed directly for the sanctuaries, and Gettins has no idea how to stop them.
The computer sounds, indicating that Admiral Stevens has come online.
“So, it doesn’t look good?” Stevens opens, forgoing any preamble.
“No, it doesn’t. As you can see, they’re migrating toward each of our respective areas. Analysis shows them creeping along at approximately ten miles per day, which means that they’ll be on us here in about twelve days,” Gettins answers. “In your case, sixteen days. The progress is slow, but there is undeniable evidence that they’re on the move. That means we have to come up with something within twelve days or we’ll have to vacate.”
“There’s still Canada or Alaska if necessary. Of course, we won’t be able to dock, but at least the cold weather will have done our job for us,” Stevens states.
He’s alluding to the reports they’ve been getting showing a significant reduction in the number of infected in the colder climates. The winter storms and lack of electricity have almost completely wiped out the infected where the temperatures have remained below or near freezing. In the warmer climates, the numbers have also been reduced, but not by much.
“It will be more difficult, for sure,” Gettins replies. “I just don’t see any situation where we can stop them if the pattern continues. With only three warheads at our disposal, we won’t even be able to halt the flow in your direction. We’ve looked at starting massive fires along their advance, but computer simulations show that we’d have to put half of California to the torch, and that’s just unreasonable.”
“So, we make tracks, then?” Stevens inquires.
“Prepare your fleet to move out. We’ll use the remaining warheads against those moving against your position. With the terrain involved, they’ll be less effective. If the infected approach to within ten miles, go back to the previous protection levels and move out if our efforts prove futile. I’ll do the same here, with the true intention of leaving. I just don’t see how we can stop that many moving south,” Gettins responds. “And get Koenig on the line. We haven’t heard a peep from him in some time. Hopefully he has something, although the silence is unsettling.”
* * * * * * *
Hamilton, Montana
November 25
In the lab, Koenig stares at the screen. His frustration over the past few weeks has been building. Dark circles ring his eyes from his tireless efforts to find something to stem the virus, but it’s proving stronger than his labors. He’s having trouble isolating exactly why Hayward and Handley are proving immune and why Emily is able to defeat the virus even though it resides within her. Everything he’s tried has resulted in a viral mutation that circumvents his attempts to keep ARES contained. He feels like he’s close, but success seems impossible.
With Emily, the virus continues to reach out toward her central nervous system, but is beaten back every time. Conversely, her immune system attacks ARES, but itself is defeated. He just can’t figure out why. As soon as he thinks he’s made a breakthrough, the test results show the virus winning. When he introduces either of the cadet’s blood samples to ARES, the protein shell is immediately damaged and the virus stops in its tracks. He just can’t isolate exactly how this happens. And any vaccine he’s tried using their blood has proven ineffective. The ability of the virus to circumvent everything he’s attempted has eroded his confidence, making him feel like a first-year student.
Leaning back, he glances over to where the cultures he’s creating are stored as Calhoun peeks his head in the door.
“Sir, Admiral Stevens just messaged. He and Admiral Gettins would like for you to get on a conference call with them.”
“Very well. How are things in the outer world?” Koenig inquires.
“Quiet. Those winter storms have all but eliminated the infected in the area. We have a semi full of diesel parked near the generator storage tanks in case the lines go down. On a side note, my card game is getting better,” Calhoun answers.
“I’m sure it is.”
“Is there anything you need down here, sir?”
“I think I’m fine, unless you possess the ability to perform feats of magic,” Koenig replies.
“I can perform many, but perhaps not i
n the area you’re searching for.”
“I was afraid of that.”
“Sir, your conference call?” Calhoun reminds. “Admirals don’t like to be kept waiting.”
“Of course, of course…thank you.”
Switching programs, Koenig logs on and pulls up the secure conference software.
“Colonel, I’ll get right to the point. We’re in a pickle and I hope that you’ve come up with a miracle,” Admiral Gettins states.
“Aside from ascertaining that a cure will be impossible for the infected that have progressed to the point they have, there’s nothing new to report,” Koenig answers.
The admiral fills Koenig in on the situation; that it’s time to find something or they’ll have to vacate the bases where they’re situated.
“I wish I had something, but the virus is proving difficult. However, sir, were you able to find out whether the infected are resorting to cannibalism in order to sustain themselves?” Koenig asks.
“We’ve found evidence that some have engaged in that kind of activity. It seems they eat the injured, perhaps even those that are weakened. However, we can’t say with any degree of certainty just how prevalent it is,” Gettins responds. “Colonel, there’s obviously an underlying reason why you seem so obsessed with this.”
“Well, there may be a way to stop it, but it’s messy and unpredictable,” Koenig replies.
“Go on,” Gettins says.
“OK, sir. Aside from attempting to isolate antibodies, I’ve been running a few simulations. Seeing that the infected appear to cannibalize each other, going after the weak or injured, we could introduce Ebola into populated areas. The Ebola virus will prompt weakened conditions prior to death, hopefully prompting a higher degree of cannibalism and creating an epidemic. The models I’ve used look promising at reducing a majority of the infected over time,” Koenig says.
“Ebola. You want to introduce Ebola into the mess we already have. Colonel, I can only conclude that the stress has driven you insane,” Gettins states. “I know you’re aware of what happened in western Africa. That virus damn near eliminated an entire part of a continent, and would have spread further if it wasn’t for teams of medical personnel.”
“Exactly my point, sir. If we infect a certain percentage of the population and they get eaten by others, it will start an epidemic. I’ve run tests that indicate the infected react to Ebola the same as normal mammals, meaning that they’ll succumb to the virus. When the host dies, so will ARES. It’s really the only thing I’ve come up with to curtail the infected at this point,” Koenig explains.
“And how do we protect ourselves from this additional virus? Is there a chance that it will spread among us?” Stevens inquires.
“Well, for one, we need to keep away from any infected. Ebola is only transmitted via bodily fluids, but it’s a persistent little bugger. It can remain active in dried fluids for up to five days. If that fluid remains in its liquid state, then up to two weeks. That last number is the one I’d use,” Koenig responds.
“Okay, Colonel, if we do go this route, give me a timeline,” Gettins says.
“Well, Ebola normally takes anywhere from two days to three weeks to manifest itself. Once the symptoms appear, death can occur anywhere from six to sixteen days. However, the infected demonstrate already weakened immune systems, so that time will be reduced. My best estimate is that the time for each will roughly be cut in half. If we infect enough at the outset, the epidemic will begin within a day or two, possibly a week and a half at most. Death from the initial infection will range from four days to two weeks,” Koenig briefs.
“That’s cutting it awfully close for these parts. First of all, do you have the virus on hand? Second, how much?” Gettins asks.
“There was a sampling here, but I’ve been cultivating it in case we had the right circumstances to use it. It appears with their cannibalistic nature, we do, sir. We can infect the infected using tranquilizer guns. There are several long range ones stored here, so we won’t have to get within kissing distance. At the moment, I have enough to ensure infection of about two thousand,” Koenig states.
“You’ve been busy. Have you tested this on live bodies?”
“No, sir. Any live infected around here froze a while ago. However, I’m more than reasonably sure this will work. It’s the timeline that is the variable. And if the infected will go after those that have the Ebola.”
“How many of those guns do you have there?”
“Twelve, sir. I can have the darts loaded up in advance. There are plenty of those stored here for some reason.”
“How long to load the darts without rushing the job?”
“With the techs we have on hand, two days.”
“Get started. I want those out here the moment they’re completed,” Gettins orders.
“Yes, sir.”
The screen with Koenig goes blank as he disconnects.
“Well, what do you think?” Gettins directs the question to Stevens.
“The timeline is a little close, but I think we have to give it a try. Introducing something that lethal and letting it spread on purpose is a little uncomfortable. I don’t see any other choice, though. We can hold up any operations venturing outside of our two bases; I think that’s paramount. Ebola can be combated if we’re careful, but I’d rather not deal with that kind of headache right now,” Stevens answers.
“Agreed, on all accounts. It’s like doing the wrong thing for the right reasons. I say that we go along with the plan and see what happens. After all, it’s not like we have many other options. I’m going to alter it to a certain degree. For those heading your way, we’ll gather them along the route as best as possible and expend the remaining three neutron warheads. Then, you can continue strikes against them. You have the additional ordinance in the depots there; that will keep the Ebola virus clear of at least one area. If worse comes to worst, we pull out of both locations, join forces, and pummel any remaining up north. We’ll be able to at least retain one location for us to settle,” Gettins briefs.
“OK. We’ll give it a go along those lines. Once the last missile leaves the silo, are we planning on bringing the crews home?” Stevens asks.
“Is that still possible?” Gettins inquires.
“They’re carrying their own fuel supplies and looking at two days’ travel time at a minimum. That means at least one overnight laager in freezing temperatures, and having to possibly travel through inclement weather. There are risks, but I hesitate leaving them there, aside from the loss of assets. If we have to bug out, that could leave them stranded indefinitely,” Stevens states. “Another option is to outfit Ospreys with internal tanks and send them in for a pickup. They’d have to refuel once they arrived from the fuel bladders the choppers are carrying. However, that would leave those other airborne assets stranded, we’d need another mission to recover them.”
“How badly do you need those assets?”
“The Marines, not as much. If we’re planning on using the warheads on the infected heading north, then I don’t need to put troops on the ground at all. With regards to the airborne assets, they’d be nice to have, but not necessary. My concern is leaving the Marines out there if efforts are unable to halt the infected.”
“Very well, I would have them return on their own, but I’ll leave that up to you. Issue the order for their return once the warheads detonate. After that, there’s no real reason to have them out there. As there’s only one missile remaining, you can issue that order for the other two launch facilities immediately,” Gettins comments.
“They’re going to love that news. I’ll issue the return notice immediately upon concluding here,” Stevens comments.
“So, the infected are mostly already gathered. Plan the best open area for optimal detonation of the warhead.”
“There’s a valley north that will best meet the requirements. At their current rate of travel, they should arrive in four days, giving us an estimated launch date of November
29,” Stevens says.
“Very well. In summary, we’ll gather the infected heading your way and use the last of the warheads to knock those numbers down. Then, we’ll pull out the missile crews. Down here, we’ll attempt to introduce Ebola to the ones heading this direction. I’ll notify the colonel that his plan is a go and direct him to bring the equipment here to us. You notify the launch facility of the coordinates. We’ll plan for the 29th.”
Chapter Nineteen
East of San Diego, 25,000 feet
November 27
CPO Calhoun grips the seat as the Osprey bounces hard in the turbulence. The choppy air has followed them all the way from the lab, grabbing hold of the aircraft almost immediately upon liftoff. The pilots have altered their altitude numerous times in order to find relief, but so far, the turbulence seems to be at all levels. They can’t go much lower, or fuel consumption will become a problem.
With each shake and bounce, the SEAL team leader glances toward the hard cases firmly secured to the deck of the cargo hold. He knows what each contains, and being in such close proximity to such a deadly virus isn’t leaving him with warm fuzzies. Although he understands that the virus isn’t airborne—that if it did spill, he’d have to actually get down and lick it up to get sick—that knowledge does nothing to alleviate the thoughts running through his mind. He’s seen what Ebola does to a body and knows what the fatality rate is. Even the best medical facilities have a difficult time countering the virus once it infects the body, and the process is extremely painful for the patient even if they make it. He notes that the two crew chiefs make wide berths around the packages as they tend to their duties.
ARES Virus (Book 3): Phoenix Rising Page 26
