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Area 7 ss-2

Page 45

by Matthew Reilly


  doing at least two-sixty.

  Chunks of falling rock rained down on the tunnel. It

  was as if the passageway were now a living creature biting

  down at the heels of the speeding X-rail pod.

  Bang!

  A chunk of concrete the size of a baseball landed on the

  roof of the pod. Schofield snapped to look up at the sound.

  And then--

  Bang-bang-bang-bang-bang-bang-bang-bang-bang!

  A deafening hailstorm of chunks rained down on top of

  the pod.

  No! Schofield's mind screamed. Not now! Not this close

  to the end!

  The advancing wall of collapsing rock had caught them.

  Bang-bang-bang-bang-bang-bang-bang--

  Chunks assaulted the pod's windscreen, shattering it.

  Glass exploded everywhere.

  Bang-bang-bang-bang-bang-bang-bang--

  Small chunks started entering the cockpit. The whole

  pod started to shudder violently, as if it were about to run off

  its ...

  And then all of a sudden the concrete rain slowed and

  the pod blasted clear of the falling chunks.

  Schofield turned in his seat and saw the moving waterfall

  of concrete receding into the tunnel behind them, shrinking

  back behind a bend, falling back like a hungry monster

  that had given up on the chase. The ripplelike expansion of

  the concussion wave had run its course and petered out.

  They'd outrun it.

  Just.

  And as the X-rail pod continued on its way down the

  tunnel, Shane Schofield fell back into his seat and breathed a

  long and deep sigh of relief.

  BY THE TIME SCHOFIELD AND GANT WERE AIRLIFTED FROM

  the canyonway outside the X-rail loading dock adjoining

  Lake Powell by a Marine CH-53E, there was a veritable armada

  of Army and Marine Corps helicopters in the air

  above Area 7.

  They looked like a swarm of tiny insects, black dots

  hovering in the clear desert sky--all keeping at a safe distance

  to avoid any lingering radiation.

  The President was now safely ensconced in his Marine

  helicopter, which itself was surrounded by no less than five

  other Marine Super Stallions. Until the radio transmitter attached

  to his heart was removed, the Marines would stay by his side.

  And the moment he had been lifted off the tarmac at

  Area 7, he had issued a standing order that all Air Force aircraft

  in the continental United States be grounded pending

  further notice.

  schofield and gant--and their precious microwave-transmitting black box--were reunited with the President, Book II, Juliet and Kevin at Area 8, which had been secured twenty minutes before their arrival by two Marine Recon units.

  During their sweep of the base, the Marines had found no live personnel except one Nicholas Tate III, Domestic Policy Adviser to the President of the United States, rambling incoherently, saying something about calling his stockbroker.

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  Matthew Reilly

  Gant was immediately placed on a stretcher and her ankle

  attended to by a corpsman. Schofield was given a temporary

  gauze dressing for his bullet wounds, a sling for his

  arm, and a dose of codeine for the pain.

  "Nice to see you made it out, Captain," the President

  said as he came over to where they sat. "Not so Caesar, I

  take it?"

  "I'm afraid he couldn't make it, sir," Schofield said. He

  held up the black box, its green transmission light blinking.

  "But he's with us in spirit."

  The President smiled. "The Marines who swept this

  base said they found something outside it that you might like

  to see."

  Schofield didn't understand. "Like what?"

  "Like me, you sexy thing," Mother roared as she

  stepped out from behind the President.

  Schofield grinned from ear to ear. "You made it!"

  The last he had seen, Mother had been flipping end over

  end inside a speeding cockroach.

  "Fucking indestructible is what I am," Mother said. She

  was limping slightly on her real leg. "When it got hit by that

  missile, I knew my cockroach was done for. And I didn't figure

  old Caesar and his buddies would take kindly to finding

  me in it. But when I ran off the runway, I kicked up a hell of

  a dust cloud. So I bailed out under the cover of the cloud.

  The cockroach flipped and smashed and I just dug a little

  hole for my head in the sand under its front bumper, ripped

  my fake leg off for added effect, and played dead until Caesar

  and his choppers flew off."

  "Ripped your fake leg off for added effect ..."

  Schofield said. "Nice touch."

  "I thought so," she smiled. Then she jutted her chin at

  him. "What about you? Last I saw, you and the Prez were

  heading off into outer space. Did you save the fucking day again?"

  'I might have," Schofield said.

  "More to the point," Mother whispered conspiratorially,

  Area 7

  475

  "did you do what I told you to do with You-Know-Who?"

  She nodded theatrically at Gant. "Did you kiss the friggin'

  girl, Scarecrow?"

  Schofield snuffed a laugh, cast a sideways look at Gant.

  "You know what, Mother? As a matter of fact, I think I

  did."

  A SHORT WHILE LATER, SCHOFIELD SAT ALONE WITH THE President.

  "So what's the word on the rest of the country?" he

  asked. "Have they been watching all this every hour on the

  Emergency Broadcast System?"

  The President smiled. "It's funny you should ask. While

  you were gone, we examined the complex's power history, and we found this."

  He pulled out a printout of Area 7's source power history,

  pointed to one entry.

  07:37:b6

  WARNING:

  Auxiliary

  power

  malfunction

  bystein

  Malfunction

  located at

  terminal

  1A2

  Receiving no

  response

  from

  systems:

  TRACS;AUX

  SYS-1; RAD

  COM

  SPHERE;

  MBN;

  FXT FAN

  The President said, "Remember you said that you blew

  up a junction box on one of the underground hangar levels

  earlier this morning? Sometime around 7:37."

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  "Yeah ..."

  "Well, it seems that that junction box was kind of important.

  Among other things, it housed the controls for the

  base's auxiliary power system and its radiosphere. It also

  housed a system called the MBN. You know what 'MBN'

  stands for?"

  "No ..."

  "Stands for the Military Broadcast Network, the previous

  name for the Emergency Broadcast System. Seems the

  MBN's outgoing transmission cable was destroyed in that

  blast. And because the LBJ Protocol was never initiated this

  morning, Caesar's transmissions over the Emergency

  Broadcast System were delayed by forty-five minutes."

  "But the system was destroyed at 7:37 ..." Schofield

  said.

  The President smiled.

  "Correct," he said, "which means that every time Caesar


  Russell spoke into his digital camera this morning, he

  wasn't transmitting at all. He was speaking to no one but the

  people at Area 7."

  Schofield blinked, trying to comprehend it all.

  Then he said: "So the country doesn't know this happened ..."

  The President nodded ruefully.

  "It seems," he said, "that the people of America have

  been preoccupied all day with another drama, an accident

  involving Hollywood's highest paid actress and her actor fiance".

  "It appears that the unlucky couple have been trapped in

  the Swiss Alps all day, cut off by an avalanche while hiking

  illegally on Swiss military property. Sadly, their unscrupulous

  guide was killed, but I believe that just in the last hour

  our two superstars have been found safe and well.

  "As I understand it, CNN has been covering the whole

  drama all day, updating the public every hour, recycling

  some amateur footage of the area, giving updates. Biggest

  news event since Diana's car crash, they tell me."

  Area 7 477

  Schofield almost laughed.

  "So they really don't know," he said.

  "That's right," the President said. "And that, Captain, is

  the way it will stay."

  exactly six hours later, the second X-38 space shuttle

  from Area 8 was launched off the back of a high-flying 747.

  Its mission: the destruction of a rogue Air Force reconnaissance

  satellite hovering in a geosynchronous orbit above

  southern Utah.

  So far as the shuttle's pilots could tell, it appeared that

  the satellite in question had been sending and receiving a peculiar

  microwave signal down into the Utah desert.

  In the end, the pilots didn't care what it was doing. They

  had orders, which they followed to the letter.

  And so they blasted the satellite out of the sky.

  WITH THE CONTROLLING SATELLITE DESTROYED, THE TYPE 240

  plasma explosives in the airports were rendered useless,

  apart from their proximity sensors, which would take a little

  more time to disable.

  Over the next few hours, all fourteen bombs would be

  disarmed and dismantled, and then taken away for analysis.

  IN ADDITION TO THE DISARMING OF THE PLASMA BOMBS, THE

  destruction of the satellite also allowed for the removal of

  the radio transmitter attached to the President's heart.

  The procedure was conducted by a renowned civilian

  heart surgeon from Johns Hopkins University Hospital under

  the watchful eye of three other cardiac surgeons and

  armed supervision by the United States Secret Service and

  the United States Marine Corps.

  Never was a surgeon more careful--or more nervous-- during an operation.

  Area 7 479

  Limited anaesthesia was used. Although the public was

  never notified of it, for twenty-eight minutes, the Vice

  President was in charge of the United States of America.

  AN INVESTIGATORY COMMITTEE WOULD LATER BE FORMED TO

  conduct an inquiry into the Air Force's role in the Area 7 incident.

  As a result of that inquiry, no less than eighteen high

  ranking Air Force officers in charge of a dozen bases across

  the southwestern United States and ninety-nine junior officers

  and enlisted men stationed at those bases were tried for

  treason in closed session.

  It appeared that all of the men linked to the day's events

  were either currently serving, or had once served, at either

  the Air Force Special Operations Command, based at Hurlbut Field, Florida, or with the 14th and 20th Air Forces at

  Warren and Falcon Air Force Bases in Wyoming and Colorado.

  All, at one time or another, had been under the direct

  command of Charles "Caesar" Russell.

  Overall, in a service of nearly 400,000 men and women,

  one hundred and seventeen traitors was not a very large

  group, barely a dozen to each tainted base. But considering

  the aircraft and ordnance at those bases, it was more than

  enough to carry out Caesar's plan.

  It further emerged at the trials that five of the USAF

  personnel involved in the plot were Air Force surgeons who

  at various times had performed procedures on congressional

  members, including the United States senator and onetime

  presidential hopeful, Jeremiah K. Woolf.

  Circumstantial evidence presented at all the trials also

  suggested that every Air Force man involved in the incident

  was a member of an informal racist society within the

  United States Air Force known as the Brotherhood.

  All were sentenced to life imprisonment at an undisclosed

  military prison, with no hope of parole. Unfortunately,

  the plane delivering them to the secret prison

  inexplicably crashed during flight. There were no survivors.

  In the investigatory committee's final report to the Joint

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  Matthew Reilly

  Chiefs of Staff, the subject of "informal antisocial interest

  groups" within the armed forces was raised. While it was acknowledged

  in the report that most such societies had been

  removed from the military during a purge in the 1980's, the

  report recommended that a new investigation be initiated

  into their continued presence.

  The Joint Chiefs, however, did not accept that such societies

  existed, and therefore rejected the recommendations

  of the investigatory committee on this point.

  OVER THE NEXT SIX MONTHS, THERE WOULD BE A NUMBER OF

  unconfirmed reports from tourists in the Lake Powell area

  concerning the sighting of a family of Kodiak bears around

  the northeastern portion of the lake.

  Officers of the U.S. Fish and Wildlife Service investigated

  the reports, but no bears were ever found.

  A COUPLE OF WEEKS LATER, A QUIET CEREMONY WAS HELD IN A

  dark underground meeting room beneath the White House.

  Inside the room were nine people.

  The President of the United States.

  Captain Shane Schofield--with his arm in a sling.

  Staff Sergeant Elizabeth Gant--with crutches on account

  of her broken ankle.

  Gunnery Sergeant Gena "Mother" Newman--with her small bald-headed trucker husband, Ralph.

  Sergeant Buck Riley Junior--with sling.

  United States Secret Service Agent Juliet Janson--with

  sling.

  David Fairfax, of the Defense Intelligence Agency-- wearing his good sneakers.

  And a small boy named Kevin.

  The President bestowed upon Schofield and his team of

  Marines the Congressional Medal of Honor (Classified), for

  acts of valor in the field of battle despite the endangerment

  of their own lives.

  It was, however, an award they could tell no one about.

  But then again, they all agreed it was probably better

  that way.

  while the others stayed to eat in the white house dining

  room--during which dinner the President had a particularly

  lively conversation with Mother and Ralph about the

  Teamsters--Schofield and Gant took their leave, and went

  out, alone, on their second date.

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  Matthew Reilly

  When they got to the venue, they
found that they had

  the place to themselves.

  A single candle-lit table stood in the center of the wide

  wood-paneled room.

  And so they took their places and dined.

  Alone.

  In the President's private dining room, on the upper floor

  of the White House, overlooking the Washington Monument.

  "Give them whatever they want," the President had instructed

  his personal chef. "Just put it on my tab."

  By flickering candlelight, they talked and talked till late

  in the evening.

  As dessert arrived, Schofield reached into his pocket.

  "You know," he said, "I meant to give you this on your

  birthday, but the day kind of got away from me."

  He pulled a crumpled piece of cardboard from his

  pocket. It was small, about the size of a Christmas card.

  "What is it?" Gant asked.

  "It was your birthday present," Schofield said sadly. "It

  was in my trouser pocket all day--I had to take it with me

  every time I changed uniforms--so I'm afraid it got a little,

  well, beat up."

  He handed it to Gant.

  She looked at it, and she smiled.

  It was a photograph.

  A photograph of a group of people standing on a beautiful

  Hawaiian beach. Everyone was wearing board shorts

  and loud Hawaiian shirts.

  And standing next to each other at the very edge of the

  group, smiling for the camera, were Gant and Schofield.

  Gant's smile was a little uncomfortable, and Schofield's

  kind of sad, behind his reflective silver sunglasses.

  Gant remembered the day as if it were yesterday.

  It had been that barbecue held on a beach near Pearl Harbor, celebrating her promotion to Schofield's Recon Unit.

  "It was the first time we met," Schofield said.

  "Yes," Gant said. "Yes, it was."

  area 7

  "I've never forgotten it," he said.

  Gant beamed. "You know, this is the nicest birthday

  present I've received this year."

  Then she lifted herself up out of her seat, leaned over the table and kissed him on the lips.

  after their dinner, they arrived downstairs, where

  they were met by a presidential limousine. It was flanked

  however, from in front and behind, by four Marine Corps

 

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