“Even then, what are we going to do?” Larry asked.
“Glad you asked. Next, I want crossing fields of fire. The cars are going to force them here. This will be our kill zone. So I’m going to need two volunteers here and here.” He lightly drew lines in the sand, making Little Sable Point Lighthouse the bottom of a triangle.
“When will we know to fire?” Margie asked. She stood, her deer rifle upright on her shoulder like a Civil War soldier.
“We want them to get all bunched up. Once about half of them make it through our vehicles, we will open up, but not until then, or they will realize it’s a trap and try something else. If everything works out, it will cause confusion amongst their ranks and make them think they are up against a larger force.” Steele eyed them. “I’m going to put Trent and Jason in the lighthouse, but I need a third. Takers?” Trent nodded and Jason looked pleased. Eyes fluttered around from person to person. Steele heard a few names muttered.
“Bengy?” Steele asked. If I can take the old man farther from the fight, I should.
The white-haired man shook his head no. “Can’t see that good no more, boss. Best to leave younger eyes for faraway tasks.”
Steele’s eyes fell upon the middle-aged mother. Her eyes were nervous but fiery. “Fair enough. Margie, I want you up in the lighthouse.”
Margie smiled. “It would be a pleasure, Captain.”
Steele stood up and wiped the sand off his pants. “Everyone is dismissed. They are coming. Let’s roll those cars into place on the double, anything that is out of gas. Ahmed, come with me.”
Steele turned to leave and Tess planted herself in front of him.
“What about me?” she said as if they had been dating for years.
“What about you?” he retorted.
She looked to the side for a moment. “Where do I go?”
“Where do you want to go?”
She licked her lips. “Aren’t you supposed to tell me? You told everyone else where you want them.”
Her coal-like eyes watched him.
“Stay with me.”
Her lips curved.
“I thought you’d say that.”
“Come on.” He waved her toward the sandy dune-grass-covered field leading to the trees surrounding their lighthouse encampment. They trekked over the loose ground to a line of coastal trees made up of thin needled red and white pines, balsam firs, buttonbush, cedars, and birch. The trees doggedly lined the field as if they were nervous about growing closer to the water.
Steele stopped and tossed his bag in the sand.
“Ahmed, you want to start prepping?”
The Arab-American man smiled. “Like Pittsburgh?”
“Just like Pittsburgh. We still have a few tricks up our sleeve.”
Ahmed began pulling large rectangle bricks of C-4 from his bag.
Steele turned back to the tall red-brick lighthouse. It spired toward the sky, the tallest building for miles along the coast. Its black observation deck at the top had a large glass bulb encased in glass. He gave a wide wave of his hand over his head. The glass-encased room at the top of the lighthouse turned yellow and orange as it erupted into flames. Steele waved and one of his volunteers manning the elevated sniper nest waved back.
“It’s lit again,” Tess said.
Steele looked down at her. “I want them to know exactly where we are.”
JOSEPH
Cheyenne Mountain Complex, CO
Joseph bowed over his microscope, twisting his needle a bit to the left side of the single Primus Necrovirus capsid. He snipped the viral receptor off the viral protein coat, leaving the rest of the virus intact. The cut was sufficient, leaving the cell with an oblong yet smooth outer surface.
Inside another needle was a microscopic shaving tool. He pressed it near the outer protein coat of the virus. Carefully, he shaved the area where the receptor had been. It was the only way to ensure he could attach the new receptor. The work was painstakingly precise; if he ruined the capsid, he would be back at square one. He would have to prepare a different cell all over again, lengthening an already arduous process.
“Dr. Desai’s a superstar,” he whispered to himself. He picked up another needle holding her modified receptor, twisting it in his hand. Her ability to modify the receptor with such speed and attention to detail accelerated their testing timetable by weeks if not months. He had spent days in the lab assisting her with preparing specimens for trial.
Nice and easy. Nice and easy, he told himself over and over. He took the needle holding the new receptor and pushed the modified receptor into its place. It attached to the virus protein coat, becoming one with the Primus Necrovirus. The modified receptor would not allow the transfer of genetic material but would allow the body’s immune system to identify it for destruction. He moved the virus into a vial.
“How are you coming on the test specimens?” Byrnes said. The man wore the same blue biohazard suit that Joseph wore except Byrnes was tall, giving him the look of an intergalactic spaceman from another planet. His eyes were stern yet sullen behind his plastic mask.
“Almost there. I’m worried about the dosing combined with the smallpox. I’m not sure how to portion the specimens in for the live testing. Any slight deviation could lead to any number of complications including infection and death,” Joseph said.
“Or nothing at all. If we don’t try, nothing will matter because we will all die in this mountain tomb.”
Joseph gulped down the acidic bile rising up in his esophagus. Kill or die, or wait and die.
“There will certainly be negative side effects.” Joseph looked at the colonel in worry. “Who would volunteer for this?” he whispered. He looked at Dr. Hollis. “People are going to die.”
Byrnes mouth twisted and pushed air through his nostrils. “I have soldiers that will do it.”
“Volunteers?” More American fighting men at risk because of me.
The colonel blinked. “Not exactly.” His calculating eyes lost a hint of their iciness. “I don’t like it either, but it’s a necessary risk. Get this right so I don’t regret my decision. I will be in the observation room with Dr. Hollis. You understand the protocol?”
“Yes.” Byrnes had instituted a new protocol that insisted only one doctor interact with potentially infected persons at one time unless absolutely necessary. It was a fail-safe so an outbreak couldn’t take them all out. We learned from our mistakes.
Joseph looked at Dr. Hollis, who looked like a blue marshmallow in his biohazard protective suit, and almost envied him. If this experiment failed, Dr. Hollis wouldn’t be the one holding the dripping syringe, that guilty man would be Joseph.
The doctor arranged the vials in order. A slender, bifurcated needle syringe sat next to each vial. Joseph studied each vial clearly marked for trials. These could mean the death of innocents or life for others. Something that his team had created to help mankind continue its desperate struggle against the dead.
Dr. Hollis gave him a hopeful smile. “We have smallpox vaccines stockpiled around the country. If this works, the altered combination of the two vaccines could save a great many lives. I never thought we would even get to trials.”
“Me either.” That’s a big if.
“We are confident in our altered smallpox vaccine samples. It’s the Primus Necrovirus vaccine that has not gone through any real testing.” Dr. Hollis pointed a blue finger at each vial next to the bifurcated needle. “Based on Dr. Desai’s calculations, we are looking at one dose or point five milliliters of altered Primus Necrovirus for test subject A, two doses for B, three doses for C, and four doses for D. Do you remember the number of times needed to administer the vaccine properly?”
“I remember, Doctor. The vaccine will need to be administered with the double-pronged needle and jabbed into the skin at least fifteen times.”
Byrnes’s voice crackled and echoed through Joseph’s earpiece. “Dr. Jackowski, we would like to begin trials immediately.”
“Okay,” Joseph said softly. With a look at Dr. Hollis, he grabbed the tray. His hands shook. He didn’t think he was this scared when he had killed a man, an American soldier. How many more will you kill? How many more will the Primus Necrovirus kill? More, more, more, echoed in the back of his head like an angry raven that sat on his shoulder.
Dr. Hollis gave him a sympathetic smile that didn’t help. “I will work on preparing more of the smallpox for the next trial. Good luck,” Dr. Hollis said. He tried to give Joseph a comforting smile.
Joseph left both of the doctors as they continued the splicing work and smallpox prep for future tests. Time would forever be their enemy. Odds are, we will have to test the vaccines again and again. Joseph physically shook the thought from his head. People are going to die from this. It’s for the greater good, he told himself.
Glass doors slid open and he entered a room with four soldiers sitting on metal medical tables covered in thin, almost transparent, white paper.
He stopped when he saw his subjects. The soldiers wore only foliage-green briefs and tan undershirts. They all covered their chests with their arms in the cold room. Two soldiers in biohazard suits stood near the door with guns.
The subjects stared at him. His tray rattled in his hands. The vials rolled back and forth on the tray.
“You may approach test subject A,” Byrnes echoed. He watched through the glass wall. A young white soldier with pale skin looked worried.
“You may approach test subject A,” Byrnes repeated in his earpiece. Joseph hesitantly walked forward and set the tray on a cart next to the test subject. He picked up the needle and dipped it in the vial filled with the dual vaccine.
“Pull up your sleeve,” Joseph commanded. His lips were dry, so he licked them, but his mouth and tongue were dry too, and all it did was scratch his tongue.
The young man complied, bringing up his sleeve with his other hand.
Joseph brought the needle near the soldier, pretending the young man was a testing dummy.
The soldier flinched and Joseph stopped half-way to his arm. The soldier’s eyebrows rose on his forehead.
“Shouldn’t there be like a syringe, not just a needle?” Subject A said.
Joseph pulled back, holding the needle in the air. “No, this vaccination calls for only limited penetration into the skin by a special two-pronged needle.”
“Is it gonna hurt?” he asked.
Joseph twisted the needle looking to see if the liquid was on the tip.
“Just a small prick. Your arm might be sore tomorrow around the infection site. Eventually, it will blister and darken and you will probably have a tiny scar.” He caught himself. “I mean injection site.” Or you will turn into a monster. He gave the boy a weak smile. “Honest mistake.”
The soldier gave him a confused look. “Whatever.”
“How about you lay back on the table?” The young soldier nodded and leaned back. He laid down, letting his arm fall to his side.
Joseph gripped his upper arm, pulling his skin taut.
“Ow,” Subject A objected.
Joseph rose an eyebrow.
“Your hand is freezing,” Subject A said.
That’s because I am more nervous than a virgin on prom night. “Just relax,” Joseph said. He waited for a moment, hand hovering over his arm.
“Something wrong?” the soldier said. He looked up at Joseph, mistrust surrounding his eyes.
“No. Everything’s fine.” Joseph exhaled and jabbed the needle into the young soldier’s arm. The two-prongs entered the upper layers of his epidermis. With a firm and steady hand, Joseph pricked the skin over and over: Thirteen. Fourteen. Fifteen. The trial vaccine entered the man. The first live human test. Joseph couldn’t set the needle back down on the metal tray fast enough. He stared at the soldier, expecting him to turn on the spot. The soldier stared back.
“You okay, Doctor?”
Joseph smiled. “Of course.” He shakily placed a folded piece of gauze on his arm and taped it down. “Keep that on for the next couple of days.”
The young man pushed on the gauze, looking down at his arm. “Ow, that does sting, doc.” The man sat up and massaged his bicep. He gave a nasty glance down the line of soldiers. “You hear that, Coyle? Your arm’s gonna hurt.” Test subject D looked even more terrified on the other end.
“You’re just messing with me, Riley,” Coyle called back.
“Quiet,” Byrnes’s tense voice boomed over the PA.
“It really hurts,” Riley joked. He shook his hand out while still holding his arm with the other.
“Shut up, man,” Subject B said.
“Fuck you, Tyler,” Riley said back. He continued to rub his arm.
“Yeah, you’re going to get us in trouble,” said Subject C.
“Quit whining, Rodgers,” Riley said over to him.
The men quieted down. Joseph administered each test subject with the proper dosages. The soldiers sat up and quietly chatted with one another as Joseph moved to the edge of the room fearing the result. Now, all they had to wait was a week.
***
Seven days later, Joseph had the men back in the room. They had been observed for a week to see if there had been any adverse reactions to the vaccines. It also gave the bodies amble time to build immunity to the viruses. Two different soldiers were in the room this time covered in their blue HAZMAT suits.
Joseph rolled his medical cart in. Atop the cart sat a shiny metal tray. Small red vials of infected blood, newly infected blood of the standalone Primus Necrovirus. This is what they had to beat. The monkeypox battle was mostly won.
Byrnes’s voice buzzed in Joseph’s earpiece like a mosquito. “Move to the next phase, Dr. Jackowski. Men, be ready for any adverse reactions.” The posture of the soldiers in biohazard suits changed. Their bodies bladed into a semi-firing position, guns pointed downward, but ready to bring up to their shoulders at any moment. The young soldiers noticed.
“Hey, what’s got you spooked, man?” Riley called over.
“Watch where you’re pointing that thing,” Coyle said to the man across from him. Joseph brought his tray over. Riley looked confused.
“Doctor, this is supposed to make it so we can’t turn Zulu, right?”
“That’s correct.”
“Then why are the guys with guns getting ready to put us down like dogs?”
Joseph looked back at the soldiers and back to Riley. “Precautionary measures.”
“Precautionary for what?”
Joseph tried to give him a smile. It came out as a grimace. “Just relax and lay back please.” The soldier complied. Good soldier. Follow orders. Die for your country.
“Make more of a fist for me, Riley.” The shoulder flexed his hand and pale blue veins began to bulge up. Joseph took the syringe and slipped the needle point into his arm. Joseph stared for a moment at the infected blood in the vial. Blood to blood contact would certainly infect the soldier and Joseph was doing it on purpose. He pushed the syringe together on itself and it closed. The red liquid disappeared into young Riley’s arm. Joseph quickly removed the damning needle and put it on the tray.
“Damn, Doc. That one was worse,” Riley said, sitting up. Joseph ignored him and moved to the next person and repeated the process all the way down the line. Within seconds of injecting Coyle, Riley, Subject A, started to yell.
“Ahhh! That hurts.” Riley started scratching his arm. He flexed his hands, rapidly clenching his fingers. He bent over double on the table. The other three watched in horror. Riley’s fingernails dug into the flesh of his arm, causing blood to spill out.
One of the guards took a step forward, raising his weapon to his shoulder.
“Stand down, Connor. This could be only a side effect,” Byrnes said through the headset.
“It burns,” Riley screamed.
Subject B, Tyler, began to shake on his table. His body convulsed, muscles spasming erratically. “What the hell’s wrong with them?” Coyle shouted. �
��Come on, Rodgers.” Coyle pulled Rodgers away from the others. They stood against the wall, watching their comrades change. Joseph took a step back as both the guards pointed their weapons at the men.
“Stand down,” Byrnes screamed in the headset.
Riley pushed off the table and lunged for Connor. It was fast, like a defensive end off the ball. Rounds exploded into Riley’s chest, spraying blood all over the white sterile room, but it only slowed him down. He grabbed Connor by the shoulders and the two went to the ground. Riley tried to claw his way into his biohazard suit. The other guard spun and opened up on Riley, hitting the young soldier in the head. He collapsed on top of the guard, blood pouring out of a dozen infectious bullet wounds.
“You okay?” the shooter yelled into his headset.
Connor pushed himself off the ground and stood up. He put a gloved finger through a hole in his suit hesitantly. He looked from the hole to his fellow guard. “Don’t shoot, Wood. He got through my suit, but I think I’m good.”
Tyler crashed into Wood, knocking both them back into the wall. Wood and infected Tyler bounced off the wall and went to the ground. Joseph sidestepped for the other two test subjects.
“Stay close,” he yelled at them. While the guard wrestled Tyler, a short-barreled M4 clattered onto the ground. Connor turned for them, his eyes now white. He stumbled for Joseph and the remaining subjects. Joseph clenched his fists, preparing to fight. Coyle punched Connor in the face, and both he and Rodgers kicked him down. Connor was slick with blood; he slipped and crawled across the floor after them.
“Get out of there,” Byrnes screamed into Joseph’s earpiece. “We are going to zap the whole room.”
“No,” Joseph breathed. “C and D are still good.”
The End Time Saga Box Set [Books 1-3] Page 109
