SIck

by Brett Battles

  That only made Brandon more worried. What if she was getting sick again? That happened sometimes, didn’t it? He was sure he’d heard that before. Would she be even sicker this time? Would she even…die?

  Thinking that terrified him. His mom and dad were already gone. What was he going to do if Josie wasn’t around, either? He’d have no one. No one at all.

  He sat on the edge of her bed, wiping her head with a damp towel from the bathroom. He didn’t think she had a fever, but he wanted to make sure it stayed that way.

  “It’s okay, Josie. I’m here.”

  Ten minutes later, he fell asleep beside to her.

  • • •

  NB7 was not considered a high-priority location for project security. Its isolation was believed to be its best defense. That didn’t mean there wasn’t a security staff on hand, but it did mean other resources such as constant satellite observation were considered unnecessary. It was, by design after all, mainly a storage and backup shelter facility.

  What additional security the building did have consisted of a state-of-the-art motion sensor grid surrounding the perimeter, video surveillance along the road that led to the property, and a car recognition system set up on the highway.

  The way this last item worked was that cars traveling on the highway would trip an electronic beam twelve miles either to the South or to the North. This would trigger a hidden camera to take a picture of the car and its license plate, then, in a completely automated process, determine the make, model and year of the car. The vehicle would then be checked off when it crossed the opposite electronic eye on its way out of the area. There was leeway built in to the system to account for slower drivers, and for those who might stop to take a few pictures—something that happened more often than those at NB7 may have expected. But once these items were taken into consideration, if a car failed to trip the second beam in the allotted time frame, an alarm would be activated, and a team would be sent out to check.

  Just such an alarm went off at 12:58 a.m. for a 2009 Honda Accord with Florida license plates. It was probably nothing, the head of security thought. He bet the driver had just pulled to the side of the road to take a nap. That had happened, too.

  Still, protocol was to dispatch a team.

  So he did.

  • • •

  Dr. Karp was feeling particularly pleased with himself. He’d been in touch with his research team, and was told all indications were that the new vaccine would work exactly as they’d hoped.

  This was the fifth time they’d tested KV-27a, and only the first in which they’d run across someone with immunity. What a bonus that had been. They’d been working on a synthetic vaccine to that point and having multiple problems, but the blood running through the veins of Captain Ash and his children had proved most useful, and the previous problems quickly disappeared. Even the issue of how females versus males reacted was on the cusp of being solved.

  The doctor had all but given up hope that they’d find someone like the three surviving members of the Ash family. Between the tests in Tanzania, Bangladesh, Tajikistan, Alaska, Barker Flats, and the unintentional victims of what the media was calling the Sage Flu outbreak, there had been 3578 subjects, of which 3575 had died. That was a success rate of 99.9%, even better than their targeted goal of 99.85%. Which would mean there should be even fewer genetically immune survivors when the official implementation occurred, and thus making it easier for those survivors chosen by the project to control those chosen by nature.

  Of course, thinking like that was getting ahead of the game. There were still many obstacles to overcome. But his part was all but done. He was sure of it. Once the vaccine was in production, he could relax and act as consultant for the others as he waited for the great day.

  His most immediate task was the children. What he had to do wasn’t pleasant, but he was smart enough to understand this was not a task he could delegate. These children would be giving their lives so that he and the others could make things right. In many ways, they were as important to the future as he was. Well, almost.

  He would take care of them first thing in the morning before they woke—that would be best. Right now, he was content to let them have one more night of dreams.

  Why not? Everything was going so well. Even the outbreak in California had given them more data to back up his work.

  Yes, very well, indeed.

  44

  “What time is it?” Tamara asked.

  Bobby turned the camera back on, its display screen lighting up their tiny room. It was the only clock they had. His cell phone was sitting on the editing console in the van, while hers was in her purse along with the wristwatch she had for work but seldom wore.

  “Eleven fifty-three,” he said.

  He switched the camera off to save its battery, plunging them back into darkness.

  Tamara dropped her chin to her chest. Eleven fifty-three p.m. They’d been in the truck’s secret compartment for over five hours. And who knew how much longer they’d have to stay?

  After the first ten minutes in the box had passed, she’d had a moment when she started to think that maybe Chavez was wrong, that maybe the soldiers weren’t there to kill them. But then an image of her brother’s face appeared in her mind. Gavin looked confused and unsure at first, then suddenly his eyes went wide and he started to scream. The bullet. It had been fired by one of the soldiers who were now chasing her.

  “Should…should we check?” Bobby had asked. “Maybe they’re gone.”

  “No,” she said quickly.

  Another silent minute went by, then, as if to confirm Tamara’s response, the sound of several boots running on asphalt could be heard approaching the truck, then stopping at the back.

  “Clear!” one voice called out.

  “Clear!” a second one chimed in.

  There was some scuffling around, then a new voice said, “Team one, recheck the buildings along that row. We’ll take these over here. They’ve got to be in one of them. Say whatever’s necessary to get them into the helicopter, but let’s get this done now.”

  Several voices replied, “Yes, sir,” then immediately there was the sound of at least half a dozen people running off.

  Say whatever’s necessary to get them into the helicopter…

  The words stuck in Tamara’s mind. Any lingering doubts that the soldiers just wanted to talk to them were gone.

  As the hours passed, they could hear groups of people running by the truck on five separate occasions. Whether they were the soldiers or not, it was impossible to tell, but it was more than enough to reinforce the idea she and Bobby were better off in their box than anywhere else.

  Then an hour passed with no one running by. It was the longest gap there’d been yet. Tamara hoped the others had finally left, and that the next sound she and Bobby heard would be the three knocks on the side of the truck, telling them it was safe to come out.

  But the night remained silent.

  “Why don’t you stretch out on the floor?” Bobby suggested in a whisper.

  Their hidey-hole was set up with cushion-topped metal boxes they could sit on at either end. In the boxes, as they’d found out by touch, were food and drink, and on the floor near Bobby’s side had been the pot for relieving themselves. So far both of them had been able to avoid the need to use it. Between the two metal makeshift seats was an area plenty long enough for either of them to lie down, just not both at the same time.

  “I’m fine,” she said softly. “You can use it.”

  “I know you’re not fine, because I’m not fine. Now get some rest. The sooner you’re done, the sooner I can lie down.”

  “Bobby, seriously. You can go first.”

  “Absolutely not. You first, or neither of us go.”

  Even though she knew he couldn’t see her, she rolled her eyes, but as soon as she lay on the floor, she was thankful he’d forced her to do it. She was completely drained. The time since they’d arrived outside the roadblock at
Sage Springs seemed to have blurred into one long, living nightmare.

  “We probably lost our jobs,” she said as she closed her eyes.

  “They won’t fire us. They’ll make us stars. ‘The reporter and the cameraman forced into hiding by…’ ”

  “ ‘…a rogue military force,’ ” she finished for him.

  “Oh, that’s good. I like that.”

  They fell silent for a moment.

  “Who do you really think they are?” he asked.

  “I wish I knew.”

  He asked her another question a moment later, but though she could hear his voice, she couldn’t make out the words as exhaustion took over, and she fell into a deep sleep.

  45

  The low tone of the motion sensor alarm suddenly pulsed out of the speaker in the security room right off the lobby at NB7. The head of security had been sitting at the monitoring desk, talking to one of his men. The moment the alarm went off he whirled his chair around and looked back at his computer.

  His first thought was that the two men he’d sent out to check for the missing car on the highway had somehow triggered the motion sensors.

  By the time he took a good look at the warning screen, six seconds had passed.

  Cameras covered the entire grounds, but there was no sense in constantly watching them since the system would alert security to any problems, at which point the video could be reviewed.

  Though he immediately saw the others weren’t there, the head of security wasn’t worried. They’d had these alarms in the past, and all had turned out to be animals wandering in from the desert. The beams were supposed to be elevated high enough to cut out this kind of false alarm, but it still happened.

  As he tapped the link to the video, he said, “Luke, go out front and check.”

  The other man got up from his chair and went into the lobby.

  By the time the head of security was looking at the video feed from the west side of the building, ten more seconds had gone by.

  There was nothing on the screen but the same monotonous desert he’d been looking at since he’d been assigned to this post. Apparently whatever had triggered the alarm had wandered back out. As he hit the button that would take the video back a full minute, he heard Luke open the front lobby door and go outside. He almost called out to stop him, but realized he was too late.

  He shrugged—no big deal.

  Eight more seconds passed.

  The video started playing again. He watched in real time for several seconds, then tapped on fast-forward, making the footage go at double speed.

  Suddenly, he slapped the keyboard, pausing the image. “What the hell?”

  Just then, out in the lobby, the front door opened again.

  • • •

  Ash didn’t have a stopwatch, but he was pretty sure he reached the sidewalk near the front door in less than six seconds. Not as good as he hoped, but good enough. As he stopped, he looked back and saw that Chloe was still right behind him.

  The entrance was actually a double metal door that opened outward. It was taller than normal and a little bit wider, obviously designed to accommodate large items. There was a security card reader mounted on the wall next to the door, which was a pretty good sign that the door was locked.

  The wear marks indicated the right half of the door was the one used most. Ash moved over to the hinges, then pulled the box of little bangs out of his pocket. His intent was to use one of the white crackers along the edge, and hoped it was enough to blow the door loose. But just as he was lifting the lid off the box, the knob turned and the door swung out.

  There was no way Chloe could get out of sight, so she froze in place.

  The man who stepped through the doorway saw her immediately, but hesitated for a second, caught off guard. That was all the time Ash needed to put the barrel of his gun against the man’s back.

  “Nothing stupid, agreed?” Ash said, giving his gun a nudge.

  “You shouldn’t be here,” the guy said.

  “Is that a yes or a no?”

  “Sure. Nothing stupid.”

  “Good.” Ash glanced at Chloe. “Check him.”

  Chloe stared at the man, not moving.

  “You said you wanted to help,” Ash said.

  She took a breath, then nodded. She first took the man’s gun from the holster on his belt, then frisked him quickly as if he might explode at any second.

  “Just the pistol,” she said when she was done.

  “What’s inside?” Ash asked the man.

  “Lobby,” he replied.

  “Anyone there?”

  “No.”

  “You’re lying.”

  The man hesitated. “Not in the lobby. In the security office next to the lobby. One guy.”

  Ash shoved the man toward the reader on the wall, then pulled the guy’s security card from his belt and touched it to the pad.

  The latch clicked, and Ash pulled the door open.

  “Let’s go.”

  • • •

  The head of security activated the general alarm then jumped out of his chair. His hand was moving to the gun at his side as he pulled open the door to the lobby.

  “On your knees.”

  A woman with milk-chocolate skin and fire in her eyes stood just on the other side of the door, a pistol in her hand pointed straight at his chest.

  “Now,” she said.

  Beyond her, he could see Luke kneeling on the floor. Standing behind him was a man with a bandaged face, and a gun very much like the one the woman was holding.

  “This is private property,” the head of security said, buying time. NB7’s security force was small, but more than adequate to handle the man and the woman, even given the fact that twenty percent of his force was out on the road at the moment, looking for the lost car. “I’d advise you to put your guns down and lie on the floor.”

  “Your. Knees,” the woman said again.

  He moved his hands in front of him, holding them palms out. “Hold on. I don’t think you fully appreciate the situation you’re in. There’s more than just the two of us. It would be best if you’d—”

  “Chloe, switch,” the man holding the gun on Luke said. “I’ll deal with him.”

  “No,” the woman, Chloe, replied. “I got this.” Her gaze bore into the man’s eyes. “Knees.”

  He grinned and started to shake his head. “Now that’s not going to—”

  The bullet tore through his leg just above his knee. The pain was so intense he didn’t even realize he’d fallen to the ground.

  “That wasn’t so hard, was it?” she asked, as she removed the gun from his holster.

  • • •

  Dr. Karp had just started to drift off when the general alarm began to pulse. In his half-asleep state, it had at first confused him. He reached for the clock he assumed was on the nightstand to turn it off, but there was nothing there. That’s when his eyes popped open and he sat up.

  The alarm.

  NB7 had always been considered a safe location, its whereabouts known only to a handful of project members. The only reason Dr. Karp and his team were there was because the outbreak in California meant there was a microscope on the state, and the Directors had felt moving the assets—the Ash children—out of state was a good idea. NB7 was the closest and most logical location. Since the doctor had used the facility a few times in the past, he had no problems with the plan.

  But now the alarm was going off. Why?

  He grabbed the room phone and pushed the number for Security. After the fifth ring, he hung up. His confusion was now turning to concern. He hoped it was just a false alarm, but what if it wasn’t?

  He pulled his clothes on as quickly as he could. If this was real, and the facility had somehow been breached, then he knew exactly what he had to do.

  The children. He had to dispose of them.

  Now.

  • • •

  “Well, if they didn’t know we were here before, they do now,�
� Ash said, as the low pulsating alarm droned through speakers in the lobby.

  “Here,” Chloe said.

  She tossed him a couple of long, plastic strips she’d taken out of a pouch on the wounded man’s belt. They were ties that could be used as handcuffs. As Ash bound his man’s wrists and ankles, Chloe did the same with her guy.

  “My leg,” the man pleaded. “I’m going to bleed to death.”

  “Yeah,” Chloe said. “You probably will.”

  Ash came over and looked at the man’s leg. It was a mess. “You want me to tie that off?” he asked.

  “Yes. Yes, please!”

  Ash crouched down. “Then tell me where the children are.”

  “The…the children?”

  Without hesitation, Ash placed the muzzle of his gun against the man’s other leg. “I’m not going to ask again.”

  “They’re inside. Bottom level.”

  “How many kids?”

  “Two,” the man said quickly. “A boy and a girl.”

  They’re here, Ash thought. We found them.

  He ground the muzzle into the man’s leg. “Where on the bottom level?”

  Behind them, a door that led into the rest of the building flew open, and several men poured out, opening fire. Ash was in a poor position with his back to them, so he dove through the doorway into the security office. Chloe had been better situated, and was able to get a couple of shots off before she joined him.

  “How many?” he asked her.

  “I counted four.”

  He was tucked right up against the doorjamb. “Hit any?”

  “One down for sure. Maybe two.”

  “You’re pretty good with that.”

  “Yeah. Bet you’re glad I came along now, aren’t you?”

  Instead of answering, he peeked around the edge, his gun ready. Apparently, the men who’d come rushing in hadn’t known exactly in which direction to fire. There was plenty of damage all over the room, not the least of which were the two now dead men Ash and Chloe had just tied up. Wherever the others were, though, they were staying out of sight.

  “Here,” Ash said, handing Chloe his gun.

  He retrieved the box of little bangs, pulled out four of the gray crackers, and checked their numbers. He then activated the controller.