It was a death sentence for over 8 million more Chinese.
“Furthermore,” Yi lowered his voice and inflected it with sad regret that he did not really feel. “I believe the Minister for Defense, Yao Junhui, is unfit to carry out the necessary actions required to defend our homeland against this heinous threat. We should appoint another to take on this task.”
There was a consensus of muted anonymous agreement. Yao stood shame-faced, feeling the failure swirl around him in the tone of the voices. He blinked scalding tears from his eyes.
“Yao?” the president’s voice was very gentle.
Yao Junhui’s head hung on his shoulders, his gaze fixed on the ground. He could feel the eyes of everyone in the room upon him. “I will resign my position on the Politburo immediately,” he choked.
He left the room, pulling the door quietly behind him, an old man broken and humiliated. For a long time no one spoke. The president lit a cigarette. His hands trembled ever so slightly.
“Yi, you are Minister Without Portfolio,” president Lin Xiang said at last. “This task must fall to you.”
Yi nodded. The others in the Politburo Standing Committee showed their approval with a brief round of enthusiastic support. Yi held up his hand in caution.
“I do not believe this tactic will guarantee success,” he indicated the map on the table with a sweep of his hand as he voiced the warning. “But I will do all I can with our Army and Air Force to buy us time. The new defensive line will put several hundred kilometers between us and the infected. That will buy us perhaps a few days before the contaminated reach our defenses in overwhelming numbers. We must not waste this time, Comrades. ‘Red Ark’ must be enacted immediately if any of us are to survive… and for that operation, we must initiate another military action. We must put troops into Dalian and secure the Liaodong Peninsula before the region is completely overrun by the infected. Our survival depends on it.”
USS RONALD REAGAN (CVN-76)
SOUTH CHINA SEA
When the Reaper drone reached Nasu, it began a series of slow orbits at ten thousand feet. Tony van den Berg got up out of his chair to study the images on the monitors more closely and the rest of his crew gathered around him.
Nasu was a small township built in the shadow of Mt. Nasu volcano – a loose scattering of buildings amidst highland woods. It was a popular tourist destination for those seeking nature and solitude away from the frenetic bustle of Japan’s city life.
“Christ,” Kate Greer groaned. “It looks like the fucking backwoods of Virginia only with different trees. How are we supposed to find the target?”
Van den Berg considered the situation. There were negatives and positives. Beneath the dense umbrella of foliage, it would be hard to spot a running man, or a signal for help. But with the residences and commercial buildings so sparsely sprinkled across the sloping wilderness, it would also be less likely the infected would be roaming the terrain in large hordes.
“Pig, send the pilot the coordinates for the Imperial Villa. I want him to put us directly overhead, five thousand feet.”
Pete Arvidson opened the chat box to communicate with Creech AFB and typed the instructions. It took thirty seconds before the image being displayed on the monitor began to change. The Reaper broke out of its orbit and headed northwest in a shallow dive. The crew watched the screens closely. Acres of straggly forest drifted under the drone’s nose. Thin grey ribbons of road weaved through the empty landscape. Occasionally the bird would fly over a rooftop or a tract of cultivated farmland. Nothing moved, and they saw no abandoned vehicles and no buildings on fire.
Van den Berg made a snap decision.
“Kate, go and find the team. Bring them down here. We’ll brief them with everything we have so far. This isn’t going to be a typical watch and observe kind of job. If we find the package, the boys in the chopper are going to have to lift off fast to snatch him. There won’t be time to piss around with a briefing, so let’s prep them now.”
“Makes sense,” Kate Greer nodded. She disappeared through the door and came back five minutes later. When the ten-man Delta team crowded into the gloomy space, they were already kitted up with body armor. The assault team commander was a tall muscled man with a hard face and steely steady gaze. He was a West Pointer and had been with the Rangers before joining the unit. While van den Berg and the rest of the Intel crew continued to monitor the drone’s flight towards the target house, Kate took the operators through everything in the ‘Team’ file on her laptop. One by one images flashed up on the right hand monitor, followed by Kate’s exhaustive explanations. When the briefing was finished, the operators filed out of the room and returned topside to the helicopters.
“Target location coming up,” Pig Arvidson announced. There was a sudden edge of anticipation in his voice. His eyes flicked from the laptop screen to the monitor and then back again. “The Imperial Villa should be coming into sight any second now…”
USS HALEY (DDG137)
NORTH PACIFIC OCEAN
When Lieutenant Commander Braye stepped on to the Haley’s bridge holding a message flimsy in his hand, Bud Slattery could tell by the XO’s face that the news was not good.
“New orders, direct from USINDOPACOM, sir,” the ship’s Executive Officer handed over the paperwork. He was glum with disappointment. “The refueling stop scheduled for Pearl has been cancelled. We have been ordered to make best speed to the Northern Mariana Islands in the Philippine Sea.”
“A crisis?”
“Picket duty, sir,” the XO said, downcast. He had been looking forward to three days in Hawaii. “We’re to become part of a blockade line to protect mainland USA from foreign commercial shipping.”
Commander Slattery frowned. “Protect? From what threat?”
The XO shrugged. “More details are expected from USINDOPACOM later today.”
“What about refueling?”
“Command is scheduling an underway replenishment with a Military Sealift Command oiler. I expect that Raven and Carmichael just received the exact same orders.”
THE WHITE HOUSE
WASHINGTON D.C.
National Security Advisor Walter Ford was almost smiling. Almost. The situation on the Korean Peninsula and the dire consequences of an infection capable of spreading around the globe didn’t allow for a real smile. But on Ford’s face was an expression close to relief – and satisfaction.
He handed a folder to President Austin. “I think I found the guy you wanted.”
President Patrick Austin flipped over the cover of the folder. The file was thick – almost an inch of documents and forms. Attached to the top sheet was a black and white photograph of a serious-faced man in the uniform of a US Ranger.
“Who is he?” The President closed the cover of the file and set it back on his desk.
“His name is Nathan Power. He’s the Special Pathogens Branch Chief at the CDC.”
The President raised an eyebrow with interest. “Okay…” he said guardedly. “That’s a good start. What about his background?”
Walter Ford drew a deep breath. Most of the man’s profile had been memorized, but he had his own notes clutched in one hand. He decided to use the notes.
“He enlisted in the Army at age seventeen and became an Airborne Ranger assigned to the 75th Ranger Regiment. Awarded a Purple Heart and Silver Star with the V device for selfless heroic action during a thirty-hour firefight in Afghanistan…”
“Heroic action?” the President became more interested. “What did he do?”
The National Security Advisor stopped suddenly in mid-flow. “He was in a three-vehicle convoy, Mr. President. A roadside IED took out the lead truck. Power was in the last vehicle. It was an ambush. He went forward and rescued an Afghani guide and one of his own men under enemy fire and dragged them back behind the cover of the second vehicle. He and six other men held out against the insurgents until the Army could get a relief column through.”
Even President Austin was i
mpressed. He nodded his head and Walter Ford went on quickly. “He left the Army soon after to go to college at The Citadel in South Carolina where he graduated with degrees in Molecular Biology and World History.
“He was accepted into medical school and eventually became an Army Public Health Physician with training at the Uniformed Services University, Bethesda, Walter Reed Army Institute of Research, and the London School of Tropical Medicine and Hygiene. He was assigned to USAMRIID – BSL4 research lab as an outbreak response team leader.”
Walter Ford paused and looked up. President Austin was listening attentively. He was nodding his head slowly as if each new piece of information was being placed into a near-completed jigsaw puzzle.
“And now he’s with the CDC?” the President asked.
“Yes, sir,” Ford said. “He was recruited by CDC and assigned to the Special Pathogens Branch. As a Team Leader he was on the ground for outbreaks of Ebola, Marburg, and Lassa - and a potentially dangerous smallpox outbreak following an accident in a Russian Laboratory that was hushed up. He also has experience working with the DoD, WHO, International Committee of the Red Cross, and several Non-Governmental Organizations – in particular Doctors without Borders.”
The President picked up a pen from off his desk and turned it in his hands distractedly. He liked what he heard. The man Walter Ford was describing had all the qualifications for dealing with contagion, and he had a good understanding of the military and working with other agencies. The President drew a deep breath, on the verge of a decision. “What’s he like as a man, Walt? I know he’s got the skills… but what’s he like as a guy?”
Ford winced. “Er… he’s a… well he’s a bit of a maverick, actually, Mr. President. He’s well-liked by everyone I’ve spoken to, and that includes a lot of his former bosses. He’s action-orientated – we saw that in Afghanistan. Soldiers don’t win Purple Hearts for sitting on their asses…” he paused. “But he’s not the kind of guy who will just obey orders. He’s the kind of guy who will need to know why – and it will need to be a damned good reason.”
“Good!” the President slapped his hand down on the desk enthusiastically and came out of his chair. It had been a long day. His shirt sleeves were rolled up to the elbows and his top button undone. His tie hung loosely knotted. Despite the weary fatigue he had a sparkle of optimism in his eyes. “Where is he right now?”
“At CDC Headquarters in Atlanta.”
“Okay. I want to talk to him, face-to-face.”
“I’ll put a call through to him.”
The President nodded and in the same motion turned to his Principal Agent who was standing discreetly against a wall. “Scott, I need a man brought from Atlanta, immediately. Make it happen.”
BEIJING CONFERENCE CENTER
BEIJING
The venue for the emergency meeting was the Beijing Conference Center on the north side of the city and the audience was four-hundred-and-twenty-six selected officials, managers, shipping executives and administrators from every major port and harbor facility in China.
As they arrived, they were herded into one of the vast ground-floor auditoriums, milling in patient lines until each person’s identity scrupulously checked and marked off by swarthy dark-suited hotel staff.
Then the doors were closed.
And locked.
Shrill whistles could be heard outside the building, followed by the roar of a dozen military trucks that filled the open plaza space. Soldiers spilled from out of the vehicles and raced to encircle the entire building and nearby grounds.
Inside the conference auditorium there was startled surprise, followed by a rising sense of panic. The murmurs of delegates became troubled. They went to the doors and found the exit blocked. They drew the heavy window furnishings aside and stared in fear and confusion.
Then an amplified voice urged them to their seats.
Standing on the stage, Tong Ge, braced his hands on the sides of the lectern and leaned his mouth close to the microphone.
“There is no cause for alarm, I assure you,” he said calmly. “The security measures are for your protection. Please, be seated.”
Many recognized the Politburo Member. There was more shock. The rustle of voices died as each man in the assembled audience quickly took their seats. Tong waited with barely suppressed impatience until everyone was still, and looking in his direction. Only then did he begin.
“Gentlemen, what you are about to be told is of national importance. It is also, at this moment, secret data not yet to be shared with the nation. You are being told this information because all of you have a critical role to fulfill in the perilous days ahead for our country.”
There was another murmur of anxious noise, the audience rustling like a windswept field of wheat.
“This matter is so grave, and the challenge ahead so critical, that not even I am authorized to tell you.” Tong paused and let the import of all he had said sink in. Then he looked off-stage to his left.
Lin Xiang, President of the People’s Republic of China, strode across the stage to the lectern.
CENTER FOR DISEASE CONTROL AND PREVENTION (CDC)
ATLANTA, GEORGIA
Five Secret Service agents arrived at CDC Headquarters in two black Humvee’s. Nathan Power stood waiting in an underground parking garage. The vehicles stopped, their engines still running, and a man in a dark suit and sunglasses stepped out of the lead vehicle.
“Nathan Power?”
“Yes.”
“We’re here to escort you to the nearest airport, sir. There is a jet on standby to fly you to Andrews, and a Black Hawk waiting to take you the rest of the way to the White House.”
BEIJING CONFERENCE CENTER
BEIJING
Lin Xiang looked out at the sea of attentive faces in the audience and hardened his eyes. He wasted no time.
“A terrible plague has spread across the Korean Peninsula,” he declared. “A contagion like the world has never seen before. Already many millions have been infected. This abomination turns the living to dead, and then turns the dead to infected mindless killers. They hunt in swarms, they spread nothing but more death… and they have crossed the border into China.”
There was an audible gasp of shock from the audience. They moved with sudden restlessness. The president of the People’s Republic held up his hand, demanding silence.
“The city of Dandong has fallen. No one remains alive in North or South Korea. The undead number over twenty million and they have overwhelmed the first forces we sent to destroy them.”
It was rare in China that the truth – and nothing but the truth – was shared with the citizenry. Normally no news was broadcast without first being heavily vetted at the highest level. But in this instant the terrifying reality was necessary if Operation ‘Red Ark’ was to be implemented.
“We are sending more soldiers to defend a line in the north of the country and we are preparing defenses. It is hoped that this renewed effort will hold back the tide… but it will not stop the undead. This disease infects all in its path. It is a Tsunami that sweeps away life with careless contempt.”
In their seats, the audience members seemed visibly to shrink. They sat, hunched down, as though the dire news pressed down upon their shoulders like a gravity of terror.
“We have a plan,” Lin Xiang declared, “and all of you are crucial to its implementation.”
Tong Ge came back to the lectern and stood beside the President. Xiang stepped aside and Tong reached for the microphone.
“Effective immediately, all ports, harbors and ships will be nationalized. All workers will be required to work additional shifts. Military troops and equipment will be sent to every major port to supplement your workforces. Managers will be required to stay at their workplaces indefinitely.”
Tong looked out at the assembled audience. They were stone-faced, still reeling with the shock news of the plague. Now there were stunned rumbles of disbelief and incredulity. “Those who fail in th
eir duty to China will be immediately replaced,” he warned.
Then he told them why.
For the next three hours Tong Ge laid out his plans for Operation ‘Red Ark’, explaining the logistics, the technical requirements and the responsibility that had been thrust upon them. “We have been guaranteed fourteen days by our Minister for Defense,” he declared. “In two weeks the first ships must be ready to leave harbor. We have not a single minute to waste.”
USS RONALD REAGAN (CVN-76)
SOUTH CHINA SEA
Seen from the air, the Imperial Villa was just a large expanse of roof, typical of a generous-sized up-market home. It was no mansion, and certainly not a palace. The building was set on a patch of gardened lawn encircled by forested woodlands. A narrow service road ran from the front of the house through the densely treed landscape.
Tony van den Berg was unimpressed. He propped his hands on his hips and stared at the monitor. The drone was flying at five thousand feet.
“Tell Creech to put the bird into a tight orbit while we recce the location,” he passed the instruction to Pig Arvidson for relay. “Oh, and ask them for Z-2 – I want maximum zoom so we can take a close-up look at the perimeter before we start making decisions.”
Dead Storm: The Global Zombie Apocalypse Page 23
