Face of the Earth

by Doug Raber

  Once again, the mood in the room changed dramatically. Some were shocked. Others were frightened by the significance of George Radisson’s short speech. But most had begun to better understand what had happened. Secretary of Defense Walker and Vice President Richards glanced at each other. They were visibly angry, though it was impossible to tell just who or what was the target of their wrath. The Secretary of State and the DNI exchanged a brief look, one of immense relief engendered by General Radisson’s remarks.

  For a second time, James Fallon Alexander stood. “It is apparent that feelings run high on these topics, and there is nothing more to be gained by additional discussion today. General Radisson has offered the caution and wisdom that I expect from a military leader, someone who can prevent a war as well as win one.”

  The President slowly surveyed the room. “We cannot act without unequivocal evidence. Go back to your offices and work with your colleagues. We need evidence, real evidence. Not evidence that selectively supports a particular outcome but evidence that will bring us to the truth. We will reconvene on Monday, and I shall make a decision then. If we find that Iran is indeed to blame, then God help them.”

  * * *

  Chapter 26

  Sarah and Jake

  A person who has a communicable disease “in the communicable period” shall not travel from one State or possession to another without a permit from the health officer of the State if such a permit is required under the law of the destination State.

  —U.S. Code of Federal Regulations (42 C.F.R. § 70.3)‡

  Day 31: Apache Pursuit

  Sarah and Jake followed Troy King Road for several miles on the outskirts of Farmington until they were well north of populated areas. Anyone who saw or heard the ATVs would assume that a couple of locals were out hunting for the day. They only had to cover about six miles as the crow flies, but their actual route would be at least twice that distance. Several times they paused to check their GPS coordinates, and they also stopped at 8:00 a.m. to listen for any communication from Walter. His voice came through clearly.

  “Slide One, this is Elmer. Slide One, this is Elmer.”

  “Roger, Elmer. I copy.”

  “Cease transmitting please. Nothing yet to report. Over and out.”

  “I guess we don’t have to worry about them tracing his transmissions if he’s going to finish that quickly,” Sarah said. “We’ll listen again at 9:00.”

  “Let’s keep moving. But drink something first.” Jake handed Sarah one of the water bottles.

  Sarah drank quickly and handed the bottle back. “I think we’ll be able to get to the truck before nine o’clock when we need to start listening to radio traffic again.”

  At about 8:45 Sarah recognized the rock outcropping where Raymond had left the pickup. Remembering what Raymond had said a few days earlier, she rode most of the last several hundred yards in the arroyo. Their tire tracks would be less noticeable, if they could be seen at all. Then they stopped the ATVs next to the truck.

  “Jake reached out to touch the camouflage netting. “That’s amazing. I was looking right at this spot when we turned off the path, but I didn’t see anything. Not until we were right here.”

  “I hope it works as well if anybody comes looking for us. We’ve only got about five or 10 minutes, so let’s get everything ready.” She took more netting from the cargo carrier on her machine and gave it to Jake. “Put this over the ATVs, while I go sweep our tracks. And put one flap over toward the truck so there’s room for us to crawl underneath.” Sarah retrieved the branch that Raymond had broken off and walked quickly back toward Jake, sweeping the branch back and forth to erase any tracks leading off the road.

  “I’m impressed. It looks like Raymond taught you a lot over the last couple of days.”

  Sarah smiled. “Where’s my pack with the radio?”

  Jake pointed to an opening in the camo netting, and they crawled through it. “Here’s some food and water. Looks like they made us a couple of sandwiches. And here’s your radio.”

  Sarah turned on the radio and began scanning. According to her watch, which was synchronized with the GPS, they had at least five minutes before they could expect a signal from Walter. There was nothing on the military command channel, but a conversation came in on another frequency. “… his pickup truck. Road 6900, just off Highway 64. Looks like he might have had engine trouble … keys are still in it.”

  A burst of static preceded the response. “Stay with it. But don’t touch anything. Remember what happened to him. We’ll let the medical people know about it, and they can decide what to do next.”

  “It’s Jack’s truck. They’ve found it.”

  “Where’s Road 6900 on your map, Sarah?”

  “Let me see … Here it is. Looks like it must be about three miles from his house. About halfway to the cabin, which is up … here.”

  “Shit. You know what that means? If he was getting sick, that would have been too far for him to walk.”

  “So what? People here knew him. Someone would have given him a ride. Oh, crap. I see what you’re getting at.”

  “If it had been someone local, we would have heard about it. Or, at least, Anthony would have heard. And people around here knew about Jackson.”

  “Then it had to be a tourist … Oh Jesus, Jake! The card. The antiques dealer.”

  “Yeah. Before it was possible. Now it’s a probability. I have to call Frank Wirth at CDC. His section tracks infectious diseases, and he knows the issues with smallpox. He also knows how to work with local authorities. But I don’t know how to contact him. If I use a cell phone, they’ll be able to trace our location. We’d never get the chance to present our evidence.”

  “I think there’s a way. I’ve got a cell phone that … Wait a minute, that’s Walter transmitting now. I’ll tell you later.”

  “Slide One, this is Elmer. Slide One, this is Elmer.”

  This time, Sarah didn’t respond. She just listened.

  “Slide One. We have activity. Patrols heading both directions on Highway 64.”

  Sarah realized that he could see the “activity” from his office windows. The school was only a few hundred yards from the edge of the airport, where the military units were based. Raymond had told her that Walter’s shortwave radio was in his office. It was part of the emergency equipment that he was given in his capacity as school principal.

  “Helicopters heading north. Everything is locked down tighter than it was. Over and out.”

  “Damn! Can you get any of the military communications, Sarah? Maybe we can figure out what’s happening.”

  Most of the military communications didn’t seem relevant, but one message caught their attention. “This is Rover 3. We are turning west for our northern sweep.”

  Only when Sarah heard the “whup whup whup” did she realize a helicopter was approaching them. Fast.

  “Don’t move, Jake!” Moments later, as the sound began to fade, she peered cautiously through an opening in the netting. It was the same kind of helicopter that she and Raymond had seen the day before. “That must have gone almost directly overhead.”

  “Yeah, but they didn’t find us, Sarah, so they may make a second pass later. The sooner we put some distance between us and Farmington, the safer we’ll be.”

  “If they come back too soon, we’ll be sitting ducks. Help me get the camo off the truck and transfer the gear from the ATVs.”

  In a couple of minutes, they were driving as fast as they could on the dirt road, retracing the route that Raymond and Sarah had followed two days earlier. Sarah was driving. “Two days! It was only two fucking days ago that I got here, Jake!”

  They monitored the radio as they drove, and 20 minutes later, they heard a communication that sent chills down their spines. “Base to Rover 3. Make another sweep in the north and west sectors. Expand your radius from three miles to six miles.”

  Jake was looking at the map. “If that’s the same helicopter that came over bef
ore, it means they’ll be coming right over us again. They’re flying a larger radius, and we’ve driven north by about that much.”

  Sarah slowed down until she saw a relatively flat place to the side of the road. There were a few small trees. She braked hard, and they jumped out to get the netting. Jake pulled it out of the bed of the pickup and tossed it over the top of the cab. It was only partially secured, when they heard the “whup whup” again.

  “Get under the truck,” Sarah screamed, and they both dove between the wheels, holding the ends of the netting. “Do you think they might have seen us?”

  “I don’t know, but we’ll find out pretty damn quick. Christ, those things travel fast. We’re lucky we were on the far side of the truck. I think we were already out of their sight line when we scrambled underneath. Listen—it seems to be getting farther away.”

  “Wait until we can’t hear it anymore before we move, Jake. Oh, shit! It’s getting louder again.”

  “They’re coming back. They must have seen us when we pulled off the road. Goddamn it! We’re totally fucked.” The sound of the rotor blades continued to get louder, until the aircraft seemed only a few feet away.

  Once again, the noise level changed. “They’re moving away, Jake. They’re leaving!” The din of the helicopter decreased rapidly as the craft sped away from them a second time. This time the sound continued to fade until it was inaudible.

  The radio squawked a message, “Rover 3 to base. We thought we saw something, but it was a negative. Repeat, it was a negative. We are continuing west and then back southwest toward Shiprock as planned.”

  * * *

  Day 31: Cortez, Take Two

  As Sarah continued driving toward Cortez, they monitored the radio continuously. There was some chatter on the military channel, but nothing of significance. Otherwise, it was surprisingly quiet. Shortly before 10:00, Sarah pulled over into a small copse of trees on the right side of Grass Canyon Road. They put the camo netting over the truck, and quietly shared some water and a candy bar.

  Their solitude was interrupted by the radio. “Elmer to Slide One. Elmer to Slide One. Things are quieting down. Snow is starting. Aircraft grounded. Over and out.”

  “The sky is clear to the north, but look over to the southwest. It’s pretty gray. If there’s snow moving our way, we should get as far as we can before it hits. Are you okay to keep on driving, or do you want me to take over for a while?”

  “Thanks, I think I’m okay. But it sure isn’t comfortable. I swear, I can feel every damn pebble we run over.”

  “Next time, we’ll ask for a free upgrade,” Jake said. They laughed, surprised that they still could.

  Radio traffic was minimal for the next hour, as they had expected from Walter’s last transmission. As the time approached for his 11:00 call, they just kept driving. This time, after identifying himself, he simply stated, “Nothing to report. I’m signing off. Good luck.” And then there was silence.

  “We’re on our own now, Jake. I think we’ll make it by 12:30 or 1:00, based on the trip down with Raymond. I remember him saying it was a five- or six-hour trip in total. How close are we to the Mancos Canyon turnoff?”

  “Not far. It looks like only a mile or so according to the map. Oh, shit! Do you see that?”

  Sarah’s heart nearly stopped. For a moment, she thought he’d seen another helicopter. But that wasn’t it. It was a snowflake.

  Within minutes, the occasional flake progressed to a steady snowfall. “Maybe we’ll be all right, Jake. Most of it’s blowing off the road. How much farther do you think it is to the main road?’

  “If I’m right about where we are on the map, it looks like another seven miles, maybe a little more if you count the curves in the road. How fast are you going now?”

  “I’m still doing about 15, but it’s getting slippery. If it doesn’t get too much worse, we’ll be okay.”

  After another 10 minutes, they were doing under 10 miles per hour. The road now had a light but complete covering of snow, and at times it was difficult to see exactly where the road was. They entered a stretch where the road snaked along the bottom of a channel through the rocky outcroppings that went up some four hundred feet above them on both sides. One of the front wheels hit a small pothole as they entered a curve, and the truck began to slide sideways. Sarah spoke through clenched teeth. “Shit!”

  Jake tightened his grip on the front of the seat as he looked over at the ditch to the side of the road. It was only a few feet down, but they wouldn’t be able to get the truck back out again if they went into it. Sarah regained control, and drove forward white-knuckled. They were down to five miles per hour.

  After what felt like longest half hour either of them had ever experienced, Jake looked up from the map. “I think the intersection with the main road is only about a mile away.”

  “Can’t come soon enough for me. This has been a real bitch to drive in. Will our tracks give us away?”

  “As long as it keeps snowing for a few more minutes, our tracks should be covered. And they can’t use any aircraft until it stops.”

  “There’s the highway! Hot damn, Jake! We did it. Now what?”

  “We try to find the guy Raymond told us about. Alvin. The airport is just a few miles to the north, and this road is almost clear. A plow must have gone through.”

  They were able to drive north at a good pace for the next ten miles. “There’s the entrance to the airport up ahead, Sarah. Turn in over there.”

  Sarah was the first to see the small sign. “Jake. Look! Diné Charter Flights.” She eased the truck into a semi-industrial area across the street from the airport entrance. Driving cautiously through the two inches of snow that had built up in the parking area, they spotted another sign for Diné Charter Flights, this one a sign on the door of a small building. Sarah pulled off to the side, keeping the truck out of sight, and they climbed stiffly out of the cab.

  “We’re starting to get lucky, Sarah. The snow has stopped, so maybe we’ll be able to fly out of here. Let’s get inside and find Alvin Keeswood.”

  They stepped through the door into the tiny one-room building and saw a single desk littered with dusty papers that had turned yellow with age. To the side was a wood stove, a coffee pot, a rocking chair, and two small wooden chairs. A fire was burning brightly inside the wood stove. The aroma from the coffee pot suggested it had been brewed quite recently. The rocking chair was occupied by a smallish man who looked to be in his sixties. His brown skin was wrinkled and leathery. He nodded slightly but otherwise didn’t move as he asked, “What can I do for you folks?”

  “Mr. Keeswood? Alvin Keeswood?” Sarah took the slight tilt of his head for a yes and continued. “Raymond Morgan sent us. He said you could help, and we really need help.” She fished the card from her pocket and handed it to him. “He said I should give you this.”

  There was a noncommittal “um hmmm” but no movement other than to extend a hand to accept the card. The man looked at it and frowned slightly, as if unsure what to make of it. When he turned it over and saw the writing on the back, his posture changed. He sat up straighter, and moved the card into the light from the standing lamp to his side. The puzzled look changed to one of recognition, and he nodded his head. Not the slight movement that he had made when Sarah and Jake first entered, but a full nod. Not one but several, without saying a word. Then he repeated himself. “What can I do for you folks?”

  “We need to get to the East Coast, probably to Washington, D.C.,” Sarah answered cautiously.

  “I could fly you to Denver real easy. Lotta flights back east from there.”

  “We need to find a way without using commercial airlines. There may be some people who …”

  “You’re in trouble with the police.”

  “No, we’re not. Well, not exactly. Look, do you know about the outbreak down in Farmington?”

  “I heard.”

  “Do you know what it is? The disease?”

  “I know it
’s not what they’re saying.”

  “So you know that they’re trying to cover it up?”

  “Yep.”

  “We have information about what’s really happened. And we need to reach someone in Washington who can help prevent something much worse.”

  “Don’t imagine I need to know about that.”

  “Can you help us? Raymond said we should trust you.”

  “I reckon I can help you. But not to Washington. If people are looking for you, we can’t fly right into the biggest government city in the country. Maybe somewhere a little west. Maybe Ohio or Pennsylvania. A small airport. Wouldn’t attract so much attention.”

  “That could work, Sarah. I have an uncle who lives in Moorefield, West Virginia,” Jake said. “Mr. Keeswood, do you have a list of airports for that area?”

  Alvin slowly lifted himself out of his rocking chair and walked over to his desk. From the pile of clutter, he pulled a loose-leaf notebook and flipped through the pages until a small bob of his head indicated that he had found what he wanted. “See if you recognize any of these towns. General aviation airports. A small plane coming in wouldn’t be unusual.”

  Jake scanned the list and stopped when he saw the listing for Petersburg, WV. “Grant County Airport. I’m pretty sure Petersburg is close to Moorefield. Do you have a map?”

  The dusty pile of materials on the desk yielded a U.S. Road Atlas. Jake turned to the page for West Virginia and found Moorefield and then Petersburg. “Only about 10 miles.”