by Kyle Pratt
“When?”
“As soon as we can get there.”
“That doesn’t sound good.”
“No.” Caden shook his head. “It doesn’t. In addition to my own car, he also wanted me to bring two Humvees and a squad of soldiers.”
“Why?”
“He didn’t say.” Caden glanced at the pages Brooks held. “What have you got for me?”
“First and Fifth Squads are in route to White Pass, but … is a checkpoint that far out a good idea?”
“They will be out of radio range, but they are our two best squads.” Caden walked to the map in the conference room next door. “I think refugees from Yakima might have caused the Morton outbreak and, by extension, the fight at the bridge. That’s not going to happen again.” He pressed his finger to the map. “The top of White Pass is the eastern edge of my authority. Until we can build a radio repeater and establish reliable communications, I want our best on the pass. We are not going to be a dumping ground for Colonel Hutchison’s sick and dying. I intend to stop the spread of Kern flu there. Let him deal with his own problems.”
“Yes, sir,” Brooks said hesitantly. “I’ll have the motor pool get the vehicles ready for your trip to Olympia.”
* * *
Hansen High School, Friday, September 25th
Zach stepped from class as the last bell of the day sounded. Nearly every teacher warned him not to miss more anymore classes. He looked down at a fist-full of make-up assignments and sighed. Today might be Friday, and Sunday would be his eighteenth birthday, but he would spend the weekend on homework, installing a toilet, and other renovations.
DeLynn hurried down the hall. When she reached Zach’s side she thumped his arm. “Vicki just told me you two are going to be living at the hotel. We’re going to be neighbors again!” A mock frown crossed her face. “Why didn’t you tell me that this morning?”
Together they walked down the hall.
“I had a lot on my mind and I didn’t sleep well last night.”
“Is there something wrong?”
“There was.” Zach stopped at his locker. “But I think things are going to be better.”
“No, you don’t get away that easy. What’s up?”
Zach looked about at all the people in the hall. “Not here. Tonight, maybe?”
“Okay.” She smiled. “Tonight for sure. Do you feel well enough to pack? We can have you moved in today.”
He spun the dial on the lock. “Could you and Vicki start? I’ve got to go by the armory.”
“Vicki said you were quitting?”
“I am, but I left my school books in a Humvee. I need to find them.”
This time a serious frown appeared. “I’ll take you.”
Zach slammed the locker shut, threw his backpack over one shoulder and followed her to the school parking lot. If the problems in his life were gradually being resolved, why did he feel pulled in different directions?
As they neared the Armory front gate, a dark blue SUV hurried down the hill.
“That was Major Westmore in the backseat.” Zach turned and followed the car with his eyes. “He only uses a driver when he’s going out of the area. I wonder what’s up.”
“It’s not really your concern anymore.”
He sighed. “No, I guess not.”
Zach left DeLynn in the car and went in search of his books. It didn’t take long to find them on the floor beside Nelson’s bunk. He placed them in his backpack and went looking for First Sergeant Fletcher. Telling him he was quitting would be hard. The first sergeant would ask why he wanted to leave and Zach didn’t want to look like a quitter when he answered. He rehearsed the words he would use, but none seem to right. He liked the guys here. He wanted to be a part of it, but the faces of those he killed haunted him.
There didn’t appear to be anyone in the armory office when he arrived. He was about to leave when Lieutenant Brooks stepped in.
“Hi, Zach, do you need something?”
“Ah, yes sir. I wanted to talk to the first sergeant.”
“That’ll be difficult. He’s at White Pass by now. Can I help?”
“Ah … I need to quit my job here.”
Brooks sat at his desk and motioned for Zach to sit. “What’s wrong?”
People seemed to be asking him that a lot lately. “Nothing … not really.” Zach shook his head slowly. “I need more time to study and I’ve had another job offer.”
“Well, in your case this is just a job, you didn’t enlist, but your work here has been great. The soldiers accept you as one of their own. I’d be sorry to see you go.” Brooks sighed. “But, if that is your decision, I’ll let Major Westmore know when he returns.”
As he walked from the office, Zach felt like a coward turning his back on friends in danger. He told himself quitting was the right thing to do, even though it didn’t feel right.
* * *
Olympia, Friday, September 25th
The sun cast long shadows across the parking lot near the Wainwright building. Caden walked briskly to the multi-story stone structure and up the steps. He entered and a soldier stepped forward and saluted. “Are you here for the meeting with General Harwich.”
“Yes.”
“Please speak with the nurses, before proceeding to the meeting.” He gestured to his right.
A nurse directed him to a small cubicle created with partitions and plastic sheets. One nurse took his temperature while another asked him questions about his health and condition, such as age and weight.
Without looking up from the tablet she asked, “Have you ever been exposed to the Kern Flu?”
“Yes. Three days ago.”
Her head popped up. “Did you get sick?”
“No.”
She turned to the other nurse. “What’s his temperature?”
“Normal.”
She took a deep breath and wrote quickly. “Are you experiencing nausea, dizziness or lightheadedness?” After a few more questions and negative answers from Caden, she said, “You appear to be fine. General Harwich has asked all meeting participants to proceed directly to room 315.”
Caden knew right where to go. He had been briefed about the Kern Flu, and met Colonel Hutchison in room 315 just three days earlier. It had been a long and stressful period with refugees coming over the mountains from Yakima, riots at the FEMA camp near Longview, and the chaos in Morton. He hoped the colonel would be there, Caden had a lot he wanted to discuss with him.
Two guards stood by the heavy metal door at the entrance to room 315. They checked Caden’s identification before admitting him. The windowless room still had two tables set in the form of a capital “T.” A whiteboard occupied one wall. Ten officers in ACUs stood in small groups just inside, but neither General Harwich nor Colonel Hutchison had arrived. Caden walked idly about, saying hello to those inside. Caden smiled as he passed by two officers discussing the military situation. Major Dowrick stood nearby listening.
A lieutenant pointed to a small table near the whiteboard. “There’s an agenda there and some briefing papers.”
“Thanks.” Caden collected the pages and sat down. Most of the agenda items dealt with the Kern Flu. The other matters were on the national political and military situation.
Caden glanced as another group entered the room. He recognized most of them, but quickly returned to his reading. A few minutes later someone sat across from him. He looked up from the papers and into the eyes of Colonel Hutchison, the commander of the Yakima region, just to the east of Caden’s region.
“Major Westmore, I have a problem I need to speak with you about.”
“Oh?” The colonel’s brusque tone surprised Caden. “I need to speak with you also.”
They moved to an empty corner of the room.
“Refugees from your area are pouring over the mountains into my area.” Hutchison’s manner was that of a disappointed parent. “Some are sick, a few are dying.” He stabbed a finger to within an inch of Caden’s che
st. “You need to get control of the situation.”
Caden’s skin warmed, as anger blazed within him.
Chapter Eighteen
Olympia, Friday, September 25th
Caden wanted to break Hutchison’s finger. He clenched his fist and considered using it across the colonel’s jaw. “I interviewed refugees from your area. One said his wife was sick. An ambulance picked her up and hours later he was told she was dead.”
“Does he think we killed her?”
“He said she wasn’t that sick. Then he told me soldiers forced him and his family out of town.”
Hutchison shook his head. “Sure, we pick up sick people, but we don’t kill them. Are you isolating the sick? So am I. Are you trying to keep infected refugees out of populated areas? So am I.”
“Refugees from your area infected Morton.”
Hutchison smirked. “Who lives in Morton?”
“Just about no one—now.”
“Attention!”
“At ease, gentlemen.” General Harwich strode into the room. “Let’s be seated and get this started.”
Without another word, Hutchison walked away.
Immediately behind Harwich a general and admiral entered the room. Caden didn’t recognize either of them. They were followed by Dr. Eaton, the man who had given the Kern flu briefing just a few days earlier. All of them sat along the top table except General Harwich. He remained standing.
“This will probably be the last face-to-face meeting until the pandemic is over.” The general slowly scanned the room. “Realistically, we knew containment of the Kern flu would be impossible. Unfortunately, we were entirely correct in that assessment.”
The general nodded at a young lieutenant. The lights dimmed and a map appeared on the whiteboard. “As you see, we have a growing number of confirmed cases in Vancouver, Longview, Yakima, Pullman, and Spokane. In addition, there are many suspected cases in a dozen other cities and towns. The only town that has gone from red to clear is Hansen. Dr. Eaton is certain that will remain a rarity.”
Caden smiled broadly and glanced at Colonel Hutchison.
The general moved to the other side of the whiteboard. “Beyond our state … ah, next slide please … the flu is entrenched in all the larger cities under constitutionalist control … Portland, Boise, Denver, well, you see the state of affairs.”
Caden studied the map. Red dots pinpointed all the cities Harwich mentioned and many others in the constitutionalist area, such as Boise, Salt Lake, and Omaha.
“It’s only been a few days,” someone said.
“Yes.” The general nodded. “We appear to have consistently underestimated both the speed and the deadliness of this flu.”
“Is there any progress in making a vaccine?” the captain beside Caden asked.
“Not yet.” Dr. Eaton rose. “Several medical centers are attempting to grow the virus in the lab, but that has not yet been accomplished.”
“Shouldn’t you be trying to kill the virus, not make more of it?” the captain replied.
Eaton smiled. “We need a controlled supply so we can find ways to kill it.”
The officer across from Caden shook his head. “So, this is why we’re here? For an update on the flu?”
“Actually, no. We have a potentially bigger problem. The spread of the flu has not been as great in the eastern portion of the country. While this will change, our source inside the Durant administration tells us that during this period, when our forces are more seriously affected, he will launch a major offensive, codenamed Operation Hellhound, to eliminate the new congress, kill acting president John Harper, and Governor Monroe.”
Gasps and murmurs filled the air.
“Why would Durant want to kill the governor?” Hutchison asked.
Caden faced the colonel. “Governor Monroe is a leader of the political opposition to Durant and the likely next president in the constitutionalist states—that’s why.” He looked back to General Harwich. “Durant would need it done before the November election and have plausible deniability of his involvement.”
“I agree.” Harwich nodded. “Our source indicates that Durant loyalists are working with a traitor in this area to coordinate an attack, but that is all we know.”
“So we don’t know when?” someone asked.
“No.” Harwich shook his head. “However, we have indications that it will be soon.”
Hutchison tapped a pen on the table. “What are those clues?”
“Those ‘clues’, as you call them, are on a need-to-know basis. However, we can reveal some that concern us, here in the northwest. I’ll let Admiral Wallace begin that portion.”
The admiral stood and looked to the back of the room. “Would you put up the Pacific tactical map?” He pointed to a course plotted on the chart, and continued. “One of our attack submarines is following a Chinese navel battlegroup on a course that will lead it to the Strait of Juan de Fuca. The battlegroup includes five type 71 and 72a amphibious warfare ships. They could have 4,000 marines onboard along with tanks and other vehicles.”
Tension filled the room and churned in Caden’s stomach. “What do we plan to do?”
“Nothing for right now.” The admiral sighed. “President Harper in Denver has warned the Chinese not enter the strait.”
Caden wondered how threatening the words of a seventy-eight year old acting president of half a country would be.
The admiral continued. “We’re no longer in a position to challenge the Chinese navy on the open seas. However, both the air force and navy will monitor the Chinese as they approach our waters.
“The Canadians have pledged to keep all Chinese ships and subs out of their waters. As the battlegroup approaches our coast they will enter the Strait of Juan de Fuca and hug the American coast. When that occurs we will challenge them.”
Hutchison rubbed his chin. “What if they make their attack from off the coast?”
The air force general leaned forward. “If the Chinese launch any sort of attack our forces will respond appropriately.”
The meeting had been going for nearly two hours when Caden stifled a yawn.
General Harwich stood. “If there are no more questions, I’m going to call it a night. Oh, one more thing. Governor Monroe will be leaving tonight for an undisclosed location. He will remain there until this current situation is over.”
Caden rubbed his face as he left the room. It had been that kind of meeting—things were bad and they would get worse. He felt drained. When he noticed Hutchison up ahead, he hung back. He had made his point and had little desire for more conflict.
Outside, Caden spotted the three vehicles from the armory. As he walked toward them he wondered why General Harwich had asked him to bring the extra Humvees and men.
Five men stood in a tight group between the Humvees. One carried a large steel briefcase. Caden could see only two faces, but didn’t know either. He tensed and glanced about. His men seemed relaxed. He continued toward the five. As he drew one turned and saluted.
“Governor Monroe requests you join him in your vehicle.”
A bit confused he opened the back door of his car. Immediately he recognized the governor’s chief-of-staff. Caden smiled, stepped inside and thrust out his hand. “Hi, David. What’s going on?”
Weston clasped his hand. “Congratulations, you’re the winner. I’m playing governor tonight and going home with you.”
“What? But you’re not the—.”
“Let’s get this convoy moving. I’ll explain on the way.”
The driver headed south as Weston continued. “Governor Monroe and his family will leave later for Colorado Springs. If Durant launches an offensive the governor will work with the military from there. Meanwhile, I’m the decoy if something happens here.”
“So you want people to believe the governor is still here and with me?”
Weston nodded.
“How can you be sure the traitor will learn that you … that is, Monroe … left with
me?”
Weston gave him an incredulous glance. “First of all it’s easier to leak something than keep it secret and, did you notice anyone else arrive for this meeting with three vehicles and a squad of soldiers.”
“The general asked me to bring them. I don’t know … oh, you planned the decoy before the meeting.”
“You’re catching on.” Weston smiled. “You probably noticed the steel case one of the soldiers carried.”
Caden nodded.
“That is a KY-68 secure phone so we can keep in better contact with command.”
“Well, that’ll be helpful, but how do you know I’m not the assassin?”
Weston smiled, but Caden thought he saw sadness mixed in. “Someday I hope I can tell you how I know you’re not the traitor.”
* * *
Hollister Hotel, Sunday, September 27th
Zach slapped at the windup alarm clock. When sufficient blows had silenced it, he rolled to a seated position, yawned, and walked across the cool room. He grabbed his clothes from a chair and dressed quickly.
Vicki and DeLynn would have to set the fish traps this morning. With most of his homework done, the toilet installed, and at least one light working in each room, he would spend his birthday on a hunting trip. He could almost taste the fresh meat and, what they didn’t eat, he would sell. If Vicki and DeLynn wanted a party, they could have it tonight.
After dressing in brown trousers and a pale green shirt, he stumbled to the kitchen to find something to eat, but instead found an unfamiliar lunch box. A yellow sticky note hung from the side with a smiley face and read, “Love, DeLynn.” Inside he found a thermos with soup, two sandwiches, and a cell phone with another sticky note. This one read, “Call me, if you get bored.”
Where did she get an extra phone? He searched the device to set it on vibrate just in case DeLynn got bored, and called at an inopportune moment. As he fumbled with the phone he discovered it belonged to DeLynn’s mother, Karen. He considered returning it, but he knew no one would be awake. Finally he set it to vibrate, slid the phone into a pocket, and the lunch box into his backpack.
With a smile on his face and feeling much warmer, he stuffed an orange hunting vest and flashlight into his pack. Then, near the door of the penthouse, he grabbed the antique lever- action 30-30, he had traded venison and fish for earlier in the year.
