by W. R. Benton
“Security? This is the President. I need to have you report to my quarters now. I opened a letter with a powdery substance in it. Both the First Lady and I have inhaled this power.”
Men soon arrived wearing special suits with self contained air, and as one man took samples of the powder, another, a doctor, looked his two patients over closely.
“How does he look, sir?” a Senior Master Sergeant asked.
“Take them to the complex hospital and place both of them in the same room, but I want them isolated. I have no idea what they've inhaled, but I suspect its anthrax and, if so, I'll want a specialist flown in. If they develop meningitis like symptoms, a little testing will confirm or disprove my guess.”
“Sergeant Wilson, I want photos of everything, and I mean all of it. Get photos of the letter, the powder, the powder in the creases of the paper, just everything in this room.”
“Including the whiskey?”
“Yes, and take it to the lab too. I want this whole room tested.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Who do you think did this doc?” Airman Jones asked.
“Right now, son, almost every man and woman in this nation wants the President dead. So, take your pick.”
“Oh, I see, sir.”
“Place them in the plastic isolation tents on the stretchers and let's move them to the hospital. If we treat them fast enough, we may be able to save them. Tell the lab I want the results as soon as they have them.”
“Yes, sir.” an airman said, and then left the room with two samples contained in bags in his hands.
A Staff Sergeant asked, “Why use the isolation tents as we move them to the hospital, sir? I was told anthrax is not contagious.”
“It's not, but we have no way of knowing right this minute what they were exposed to, if anything. It may be baby powder on that letter, but I doubt it. I'm simply taking a precaution.”
They called the control center, had the hallways emptied of normal traffic and made their way to the hospital section of the complex. Their medical center was as capable as any hospital in the world, just lacking some specialists, but they could usually be flown in if needed.
“Nurse, I'm sure these are anthrax patients, so look for a sudden onset of fever, headache, and stiff neck as complaints from them. The powder is currently in the lab being tested. I want them kept in isolation, and I have requested a specialist be brought in to treat them. In the meantime, remember they are the President of the United States and the First Lady, so treat them well.”
“Yes of course, sir.” a male Lieutenant nurse said.
“Start an IV with antibiotics and antitoxin. I have no idea if we reached them fast enough or not, but if they start having breathing problems put them on a ventilator, and use continuous fluid drainage.”
“Uh, yes, sir. I fully understand.”
The doctor quickly showered in the decontamination shower, dried off, and then returned to the hospital after he dressed in scrubs.
“Sir, while you were out the lab called, and the powder sample tested positive for anthrax. They double checked the samples and results were positive for Bacillus Anthracis both times. They said the genetic makeup was slightly different with a silicon element discovered.”
“Terrorists often use silicon with Bacillus Anthracis so it sticks to the lungs better and increases the fatality rate.”
The Nurse walked near the desk shaking his head.
“How are the patients?” he asked.
“Complaining of some flu like symptoms. The President has had violent vomiting and diarrhea, along with severe stomach cramps. The First Lady does not have the same symptoms. That has me a bit confused, but I know little of anthrax.”
“Be cautious,” a Master Sergeant medic said, “because we know the letter was handled by the mail room clerks, the person or persons that delivered the card to the President, and only God knows who else. I suspect in the next few days, more with the same problems will show here.”
“It sounds like the flu, or food poisoning to me. Run his and her blood to the lab and have it looked at closely. I want a full blown blood test done on him. I suspect we'll find something else involved with him.” the doctor ordered.
“Who here would poison the President?” the nurse asked.
“I have not said he was poisoned, only that it's a thought. Once his blood is tested, we'll know what we have on our hands. If he was poisoned, it'll open up a whole can of security worms.”
The nurse asked, “When does the infection usually start after exposure to anthrax? You know, if I didn't know better, I'd think they both developed meningitis.”
“Infection usually develops within a week after exposure, except I have no idea how adding silicon to the spores will impact that infection time. I'd suspect, only I don't really know, it may cut the time down tremendously.”
A full Colonel, the Hospital Commander, entered and said, “I've contacted the Center for Disease Control and they have a specialist on the way here as I speak. They said we usually have up to a week before the infection starts, but with the silicon helping the spores stick to the linings of the lungs, well, they don't think we have that long. Since the letter address to the President was from his mother, the Non-Commissioned Officer in Charge (NCOIC) of the mail room thought it was personal and didn't open it.”
“I don't think we have a week either, but the lab results will tell us much more.” the doctor said.
Picking up a chart, the Colonel looked it over and said, “Looks to me like you've done all you can for both of them. All we can do now is monitor them and wait for our man or woman to arrive.”
I'm surprised the President survived the arsenic trioxide I put in his whiskey bottle. Only I was guessing how much to put into a fifth of whiskey. I'm even more surprised his blood hasn't been taken for testing by the Hospital yet, but that's just a matter of time. In the meantime, I need to gather up things in the event the man doesn't die, Colonel Null thought as he cleaned his 9 mm pistol with an oily rag. His cleaned M4A1 was on his bed and his ammo pouches were beside his rifle, as he took a sip of some seven year old Irish whiskey.
He suddenly picked up the secure line and dialed a number.
“Hello, Colonel, I was just discussing you. You have news for me, ja?”
“My automobile is in the garage with a serious problem and I do not think it will recover.”
“Oh, and what is the nature of this illness?”
“Anthrax and arsenic, according to my mechanic. We will need a new one soon, or so I was told.”
“Good, Colonel, and what of you?”
“I need out of here and now, if possible.”
“I can understand that. You will have military orders and a plane in air to you within the next thirty minutes. You will be ordered to use the aircraft to travel to your next base. There will be another Colonel on the aircraft to take command of the complex and he may or may not be a member of the New World Order, so say little to him. Any questions?”
“No, sir. Thank you.”
“Good day, Colonel.” The call was over.
Forty-five minutes later, his phone rang.
“Colonel Null speaking.”
“Sir, this is Senior Airman Wilkes; I have a C-130 inbound to pick you up, and they have your replacement and new orders for you. I was instructed to have you waiting on the flight line when they arrive. Their ETA is fifteen minutes, sir.”
“Thank you, I'll be right up.”
He then left his room, walked to the small air terminal and straight to the counter, so the airman could see he was ready to leave.
“Sir, if you'd like something to eat or a drink, the VIP lounge is open for officers and senior NCOs.”
“That's where I'll be.”
“Uh, let me take your luggage and I'll book it for the aircraft, sir, and see it's loaded for you.”
“Thank you. I appreciate the assistance.” He then passed his bags to the young man and moved for the lounge.<
br />
The man walked into the lounge, up to the bar and ordered a double bourbon. He sat on a stool at the bar making small talk as he drank two more. Finally, he heard a loud speaker announce, “Attention, please, Colonel Null your aircraft is now available for boarding. Colonel Null, to your aircraft, please.”
The Colonel downed his drink, walked to the flight line and saw a C-130 running engines as a load master waved him forward.
The ramp was down, so walking to the Master Sergeant, he yelled, “Colonel Null?” He then pointed at himself.
He was motioned to get on the aircraft and once on, he saw two squads of paratroopers in the canvas red seats. One squad was on each side, so he sat next to another Colonel. The ramp was being raised as the aircraft taxied for takeoff. By the time the bird was at the end of the runway, the ramp was closed. They took off, gained attitude and began cruising at 20,000 feet.
As the aircraft moved, he noticed the paratroopers were rigged for a free fall jump, with oxygen masks, oxygen bottles, communications and slightly different parachutes and gear.
Must be a special operations bunch or some Rangers on the prowl, Null thought as he remembered his five jumps at the Air Force Academy.
An hour later, a man who could have only been the Load Master yelled as the ramp was lowered, “Stand Up!” He indicated for the men to stand with his hands, because it was hard to hear in the aircraft.
“Move to the ramp!” Again he saw the man use his hands to show what he wanted done.
Moving to the ramp, the group stood waiting for a green light, which meant for them to leave the aircraft. Null naturally moved close to them and pulled out his phone to get some photos. At this altitude, the ground was a blend of various shades of greens, and browns.
Suddenly the light turned green and the men left the aircraft as a group, but when the Jump Master left the ramp, he had Colonel Null's right arm in his two hands. Holding onto the Colonel, the man just stepped from the ramp, let his weight shift, and they both fell from the aircraft.
They'd no sooner cleared the ramp than the vise like grip on the Colonel let go of him.
“Base, this is Blackjack One, mission accomplished.” the Jump Master said to headquarters, using his communications system.
“Roger, Blackjack, copy, mission complete.”
“Roger that, base. Out.”
Falling now at terminal velocity, Null's brain was working so quickly nothing stayed focused in his mind for over a micro-second. Due to the altitude, his thinking began to slow as oxygen deprivation struck him fast and hard. Seconds later, he lost consciousness and awoke a few fast seconds before his body slammed into the side of a mountain head first, going just slightly under 120 miles an hour.
CHAPTER 17
“The chopper is off in the distance, moving in grids or patterns, like helicopters do when searching for someone. I think that someone is us.” James said.
“Want us to put the fire out?” Donna asked.
“I think it would be smart, and pray they don't have infrared capability on the bird.” Ben said as he stood.
“What's that infer-red stuff?” Gator asked, as three of them poured water on the fire.
“It's a computerized method of seeing heat in darkness. If the chopper has it, we show as red people on their screens. All they have to do is shoot at the red folks. It's like a computer game really, and no details are shown of us.”
“Will the vehicles we drove here show?” James asked.
“I don't know what the motor temperatures are right now, but the hotter they are the better they'll show. If they're cool, no, they'll not show.”
“Some things in the woods give off heat.” Gator said.
“Of course they do, but they'll see us well enough to see our heads, shoulders and limbs.”
“Oh, not good then.”
“I don't know if they have it or not, so relax, but load your weapons.” Ben said, and then placed a round into the breech of his sniper rifle.
When the chopper was nearer, Ben said, “Spotlight on both doors, and you can be sure they have machine-guns under those lights. Everyone get under something and don't move until the chopper leaves.”
The aircraft moved over them, the light flashed and moved in all directions. It then moved forward a little and began searching with the lights again. Three different times the helicopter was over them, but it eventually flew into another grid.
“Okay, everyone come out now. I suspect they're gone, but they may come back at some point. I'm pretty sure they didn't have infrared capability or some of us would have been picked up on the screen.”
“How can you tell if it has this or that on a helicopter?” Gator asked.
“Good question, and usually you have no idea, unless it's mounted on external pods. I mean, if that chopper had had a cannon, it would have been mounted on a pod, it had nothing hanging from it at all, but I know there were machine-guns under those lights. When you see a chopper, the best thing to do is stop moving and if you have time, crawl under cover.”
Donna said, “That light went all over me and I expected to be shot any second.”
James was holding her hand and he squeezed it. She knew he was telling her he loved her, because they'd been squeezing hands over forty years.
“Things look differently from the air. I've had helicopters looking for me and I wanted them to see me, and we still had trouble finding each other. Often colors and shapes blend together. You're wearing jeans and gray shirt, so you'd be hard to see with a fast glance.” Frank said.
“What now?” Gator asked.
“Stay up or go to bed, but I suggest no fires.” Ben said.
“I think over the next week, night time fires will be a fond memory.” James said, and then grinned. It was a full moon, so everyone saw his teeth.
“Do you think they'll bring in dogs?” Nancy asked.
“They would if they knew we were in a general area. They have no idea even what direction we took after we left the hotel. For all they know, we could be in Saint Louis or Kansas City by now.” Ben said.
As he met Nancy's eyes, James said, “Yep, the clerk was blindfolded, so he has no idea which direction we left and once the attack started, I never saw any of the other guests at all.”
“I suspect they were smart and stayed in their rooms.”
“Let it go, because they have no idea where we are, or even who did the killing. They have nothing to go on.”
“I hear you, but I just thought of something we forgot. The front desk had a security camera, so if it was working properly, they'll know what two of us look like.”
“Well, I saw cameras outside too, where the guests come and go, so they'll have us on tape, if they were working, but many don't.”
“How badly did you mess up the hotel?” Gator asked.
“Not bad really; expect we totaled two rooms for sure. The rooms will need to be built from scratch just to get all the blood and bits of flesh from the walls. Chunks of sheet-rock were blown to hell, and I suspect all the furniture was no good.” Ben said.
“I know the cops will keep the rooms as is and secured for a year, and they'll pay Mable Kennedy to keep the doors locked and sealed. You did say her name was Mable, right?” James asked.
Gator, grinning, replied, “Yep, and I was sweet on her when I first got here, but her husband didn't like that much, so I let her go. Bill, her old man died last year, so I've taken her out for supper a time or two.”
Donna suddenly said, “I don't mean to change the subject, but how will some of us get our medications now, since we don't have the chips installed?”
James smiled and said, “I've given that some thought and taking a legal prescription from Nancy to the pharmacy, like we did before, would just get us arrested now, because the chip is needed. Gator, do you know the town of Licking well?”
“I had an older brother that used to live there, so I know it good enough. Why, ain't much in Licking.”
“Does it hav
e a pharmacy?”
“Yep, they do.”
“Police station?”
“No, they don't, but they do have a jail with an administration room out front. I think they have two cells and both of them are probably rusty. Last I heard, Bubba Skaggs was the policeman and he don't cause any trouble. Why all the questions?” Gator batted his eyes and looked confused.
“Tonight, we're all going to rob the Licking pharmacy, but we're to take drugs, not money.”
“Those of us requiring certain drugs, speak with Nancy so she can write them down and once in the pharmacy, she'll grab shipping containers of the drugs. If we have time, I'll clean the damned place out, and leave them nothing.” James said and then added, “I'm concerned that the NWO may take complete control of the distribution of controlled substances, which would allow them to kill millions of people by simply stopping delivery of their meds.”
“Some folks on heart meds, high blood pressure, diabetes, or even simple infections will die if medications are withheld.” Nancy said, and then batted her eyes a few times as if the whole concept of withholding medication was unthinkable to her.
“That's the main reason we'll hit the pharmacy this evening. While some may die in the coming months, hopefully it won't be anyone in our group. I want no one hurt if we can avoid it, but if a gun is pulled, shoot to kill. Without blood pressure meds, we'll lose Donna, me, Gator and Dick. We also need to be prepared in case someone comes down with something, too. I want to clean the place out.”
“Why don't you and I go over there and look the place over? You've never been in the place and I was in there years ago, nigh on five years back. The whole place may be changed around by now.”
“Well, get on the bike, Gator, we're going to town.” James said as he grinned.
“Why the motorcycle?”
“Two reasons, it'll use less gas and it'll take us places a car can't go. Now, get the helmet on and let's go.”
The drive to the Licking pharmacy was uneventful, with James enjoying the cool air on his face as they traveled. The drug store was smaller than most, but the pharmacist was situated behind the counter in an open area. Drugs were seen on countless shelves behind the man, and that was all he needed to see.
