by LC Champlin
A wiry, smiling woman in her late sixties or early seventies greeted them. She wore the same rugged attire of the militia members, sans Stetson. She provided Albin with a satellite phone and scribbled list of emergency contacts.
First, he would try the number Washington had provided him before . . . before the fiasco at Redwood Shores. Unfortunately, continuing the theme of the government being unreachable when one needed to contact them, yet on one’s doorstep when one did not want to reach them, his call went unanswered.
Next, the sheriff’s department. The receptionist placed him on the proverbial brief hold.
He looked out across the wilderness before him. Civilization may have tumbled in the nation’s metropolises, but here the people lived independent existences, sheltering in place as a way of life. If the supply trucks ceased, the residents could butcher cattle or hunt game. Only fuel and necessities they could not procure from the land would draw them into urban areas.
After she provided him with the local DHS field office’s number, he called them and left his contact information, along with instructions for them to contact him as soon as possible. If they could not reach him, they should contact the Walden Colorado Sheriff’s Department.
Calls completed, he returned to the pole building. Amanda sat with her girls at a picnic table. Behrmann paced, while Bridges stood with his hands in his pockets, looking out over the plain. All eyes snapped to Albin as he approached.
“I left messages with the Denver DHS field office, as well as the sheriff’s department in town,” he announced.
“Now we wait,” Behrmann sighed, bouncing on the balls of her feet in frustration.
Chapter 45
Family Enemy
Beat You – Watt White
June 5, 2016—
Dr. Wong set about transferring Mercury’s files to the jump drive Nathan provided her. As she copied the data, he pointed out additional files. They contained plans for the data, names of people involved, and more specifications regarding controlling the cannibals. That should keep the government happy.
Now he could return to Los Alamos and begin working on the hard-science angle. With the best scientific minds in their fields at his disposal, he would soon have the solution to the contagion. With effort, perhaps he could prevent the government from having control. If he could find a way to control them himself, all the better.
“Tell me,” Nathan began, “how did you survive? I heard you had been killed.”
The screen held her gaze. Hesitation, then, “As far as I know, my family did die. My sister was in my house, and whoever killed her apparently mistook her for me. I had already evacuated with LOGOS, since I had decided to work directly with them. My mother and husband died in the chaos later. I tried to have LOGOS protect them, and they said they would, but . . .” Mouse clicking filled the silence
“Where were they?”
“In Silicon Valley.”
Her gaze wandered to a photo on her desk. Nathan leaned back a few inches for a clear view. His breath caught. In the photo, two familiar faces smiled at him: Loto and Mrs. Wong, who stood with Dr. Wong in a sylvan setting.
“Was it Redwood Shores?”
She spun to face him. “What do you care?” Their dark gazes locked like the talons of dueling raptors.
“I want to stop LOGOS. Why did you continue to work with them after they failed to protect your family?”
“It’s better than the alternative: being left to fend for myself during the outbreak. My family may be no more, but at least I am alive.” Yet she helped the very people who brought the suffering!
“I understand.”
“Do you?” Lip curled, she returned to the files.
“I saw your work at Doorway Pharmaceuticals in San Francisco. It’s quite impressive.”
“What do you know about it? You’re just a mercenary,” she sneered.
He merely smiled, eyes on the screen.
When Wong finished, Nathan ejected the drive from the terminal and slipped it back into his pocket. “Thank you. Now, let’s go find our friend Dr. Birk, shall we? Victor Birk, that is.”
She shot him a look of hate. “What do you want with him? Or do you even know?”
“I know he’s a valuable scientist.” And pawn. “Let’s go.”
Staying slightly behind and to the left of her, he stepped into the hall. She turned right, heading toward the far end of the passage. Did the staff here have a secret alarm to alert security? He would find out one way or another.
She turned left down another hall, then right, where they at last reached the stairs. They took four flights of steel steps down to the second basement level. A metal door greeted them. The biometrics scanner beside it glowed green when she pressed her thumb to the pad.
Captor and captive tramped down the gray, concrete hall. At its terminus, she opened an airlock hatch.
Beyond the barrier, the cement gave way to normal office conditions: plasterboard, carpet, drop ceilings. The passage stretched the length of the level—at least a hundred feet—with doors along both sides.
Wong stopped at the second door on the right. Swiping her key card gained access. Nathan stayed no more than two feet from her during the process.
They slipped in to a lab. The usual mysterious white machines varying in size from a mini fridge to a freezer lined the walls. Workbenches ran down the center. Computers and other electronic devices occupied them at intervals. Staff in lab coats worked at stations about the area. It resembled the lab at Doorway Pharmaceuticals.
“Dr. Birk,” Wong called.
On the far end of the room, a lanky man with brown hair that needed a trim flinched. He looked up from his computer, his brown eyes all the darker from irritation. He wore a rumpled button-down under his equally rumpled lab coat. When he spotted who summoned him, he shot back from his workbench so quickly he tipped over his stool. His drawn face blanched.
He ignored Nathan, probably seeing only another security thug. Perhaps that caused his trepidation: fear of having to clean his desk out and receiving an escort to the front door. With the government hunting him down, being fired did more than interfere with his retirement plans.
Standing behind and to the left of Wong, Nathan kept his chin down so the brim of his cap obscured his face.
Wong waited, arms crossed. “Dr. Birk, I need to speak with you in my office.” Not delaying to see if he obeyed, the head of research strode back down the hall.
Nathan followed.
Behind them trudged Vic with all the joy of a student going to the principal’s office. “What is it, Dr. Wong?”
That whining voice. Nathan’s fingers curled into fists, aching to punch the traitorous twit in the face. But the shock Birk would receive upon seeing Nathan would serve as enough retribution.
“There’s a delivery in the facility’s rear that this man”—Dr. Wong motioned to Nathan—“wants you to inspect. I’ll be accompanying you as well,” she added as Nathan shifted closer to her.
“Er, all right.”
Wong led them back up the stairs to the ground level. Nathan moved to block any attempt she might make to avoid the building’s rear.
Birk came with a slave’s air, not the rebel he had acted a few weeks ago when the government had held him. Though the bruises on his face had faded, his features had aged five years. Evidently LOGOS, Mercury, or whoever ran this operation considered Birk a possession rather than an employee. How fitting.
“It’s the new strain we’ve been waiting for,” Dr. Wong improvised. Lying, a prerequisite for employment with LOGOS.
“Oh.” Birk averted his gaze from her.
They approached the exit. Just a few more yards . . .
“Dr. Wong,” a male’s voice rang down the hallway. “Dr. Birk.” Captain Warren and four security guards in full battle gear and carrying AR-type carbines turned the corner of the hall ahead. “You’re both needed.”
Birk
hesitated. “What’s this about? I have to inspect a delivery.” A touch of the old attitude flared.
“We’ll explain later. Come.” Steely glare matched iron tone.
Nathan caught Birk by the shoulder and pulled him back. “Wait. I’m here for an urgent delivery critical to the research here. I need these people to verify the shipment is handled correctly. It’s my order.”
Under Nathan’s hand, Birk tensed. He looked back at the supposed delivery and security man, eyes narrowed. Then his jaw dropped. “You—”
Then he dropped to the ground as if avoiding gunfire. The fall jerked his arm free of Nathan’s grip. On all fours, Birk scrambled toward the guards. Fucking traitor!
Nathan dragged Wong in front of him as he eased ahead toward the exit. How did they know? A secret alarm?
“Hold your fire,” the captain barked.
Carbines leveled at Nathan, the guards braced themselves.
Chapter 46
Multi-Cross
Eye of the Storm – Watt White
Fuck it all, Nathan couldn’t leave without Birk. But if the little bastard wanted to stay, did Lexa expect Nathan to drag him out by the nose?
Nathan’s earpiece hissed. “Nathan.” Urgency in Sophia’s voice. “Lexa’s fucked you over. She just made a deal with Cheel: he’ll hand over Victor in exchange for you. You’re supposed to surrender.”
Betrayal from a Birk? How predictable. Sophia would act as Lexa’s enforcer, no doubt, ensuring he didn’t escape.
“Don’t do it.”
What? A trap, surely.
“Dr. Birk,” Nathan addressed the weasel, who now sheltered behind the guards. Wong remained tense and silent, the perfect hostage. “Your sister sent me to retrieve you. Now she’s struck a deal with the terrorists. You know, the ones who set the contagion loose. By the way, the mercenaries she hired burned your house down.”
Wide eyed and bloodless, Vic peeked around the guards.
“She’s going to use you. You’ll never get ahead in life with her in the ruling class. You know that.”
Guards swung around the corner at the end of the other hall, pinning Nathan between their line of fire and Captain Warren’s. They wore full-face gas masks and coyote-tan uniforms. Like the fuckers who’d taken down the convoy and murdered San Luis.
Her hands up, Wong shook her head. “Don’t do it.” Did she address him, Birk, or the guards? “They’ll kill you if you don’t drop your weapon.” Him, evidently.
Nathan’s pistol flicked forward to cover Warren. “Back off.” Just another few feet to the door—
Clank rollll.
Shit!
Hisssss.
A teargas grenade—
Bang-bang-bang!
Nathan ducked. Shooting at him? Lunatics! He fumbled in the gas mask pack at his side.
Wong slid free of her lab coat and scrambled toward the security forces. Fucking—
Warren’s guards lacked gas masks. They began coughing.
In the confusion, Nathan pulled his mask on. He charged the choking guards and caught Wong by the back of her shirt collar. He swung a one-eighty—the doctor as a shield—to face the other contingent.
“Nathan!” Sophia barked over the radio. “Lexa says she has your friends in custody.” Nice distraction, but no cigar.
Too busy gasping for breath to struggle, Wong moved with him as he shoved his back against the exit door’s bar. In this environment, she must have mistaken him for one of the real guards. “Doctor Wong,” he barked, his mask muffling his voice, “I’ll get you to safety.”
He rammed backward and opened the door to step into the fresh air. “Go, go, go!” Still behind her, he pushed her toward the delivery van his merc cohort had parked nearby. Shit, Sophia remained on sniper overwatch, along with her cronies. Should he trust her not to side with Lexa? Why would she choose him over allying with the powerful LOGOS administrator?
Four guards charged from around the corner of the building, while the masked basement forces swarmed from the exit. Surrounded!
Nathan yanked Wong behind the delivery truck. “There’s more of them,” he growled. “Stay down. Don’t move.” Sophia hadn’t mentioned if the truck boasted an armored cargo compartment. And this is what I get for not asking.
Trading pistol for AR, he pressed his back against the side of the delivery van. The guards couldn’t shoot him easily without harming his hostage. He lacked any such limitation for firing at them.
The AR hammered as he squeezed the trigger. The lead guard staggered backward, a direct hit to his armored chest. His comrades retreated with him.
“Nathan.” Sophia again. “Lexa says she has the reporter and economist. And your attorney.”
Liar. “He’s dead.”
“She says to check your video screen.”
During a firefight? “No.” I’ll believe it when I put my fingers in the nail prints.
Another team of guards leaned around the exit he’d come through, their rifles locking on him.
Time to leave. But where? If he came around to the front of the vehicle, Sophia could easily shoot him—if she’d been lying about siding with him.
At least he had a hostage. “We have to go.”
She turned watering eyes on him. “Wait, you’re—”
Releasing her elbow, he shot his arm around her neck, trachea in his elbow flexure. Supporting her on his hip and back, he trotted toward the truck’s cab. Her feet came off the ground, her hands scrabbled at his arm. To think, he’d vetoed Sophia’s run-and-gun plan.
A door at his far right burst open before a squad of guards. They wore gas masks. This called for an area-effect attack. Doable. He tossed a flash-bang canister in their direction.
BANG!
No choice but to risk Sophia’s sniper fire. He yanked the cab door open—
Bullets peppered the side of the cargo hold. “Drop your weapon!” Warren bawled.
Guards piled around the rear and fore to lock their sights on him. Wong blocked a clear shot, though.
“We’ve got you covered from the roof,” one of the mercs barked. A head peeked over the edge of the building—and so did a rifle, aiming at Nathan.
“Let her go.” Warren remained out of sight. “Or we’ll shoot.”
Cheel had traded Birk for him. The terrorist bastard no doubt wanted to torture his old nemesis, or perhaps use him for another propaganda video. Only this time, he would roast on a spit or die in acid as had other enemies of ISIS and Islam. No, he would fight to the death.
Crack!
The enemy sniper on the roof vanished.
Crack!
One of the guards at the building’s corner slumped against the wall, the contents of his cranium painting the concrete red.
Crack!
His nearest colleague dropped, skull dissolving in the mist of red.
At the gunfire, Wong’s struggles lessened. Take her or not?
Running footsteps—A pack of guards carrying riot shields stormed toward him. Sophia couldn’t hit them from this angle.
Wong began thrashing like a landed shark.
Fuck this. He had the files. His shove sent Wong stumbling toward the shield wall. The instant she left his hold, he leapt into the cab.
Gunfire crackled outside, behind him. After throwing the vehicle in gear, he floored the accelerator. The engine, suited to hauling loads, roared. The van careened down the driveway toward the front of the facility. Not quite the flawless getaway he’d planned. At least Sophia hadn’t opened fire on him. Why did she value him over Lexa?
Speaking of Sophia—“Nathan, meet me where we planned if things went wrong. You got the second asset, right?” The files.
“Yes.” Birk constituted the first, though “asset” might overstate his worth. Now if one dropped the last two letters . . .
A black SUV screeched into the intersection ahead. Nathan spun the wheel, taking the next corner. Fuck, this woul
d take him back in front of the building. The Garden of the Gods transformed into the Garden of the Devils. “Resist the devil and he shall flee from you.” The only fleeing so far was on Nathan’s part.
Where to flee to, though? The meeting place? If he caused enough trouble, the cops would show up. If he caused even more, the Air Force Base might send security forces. They wouldn’t appreciate chaos this close to Cheyenne Mountain, one of America’s most secure bunkers. No doubt the LOGOS bastards planned to take over the installation once they achieved control of the population.
Avoiding the entrance zone, Nathan jerked the vehicle off the pavement. It bumped over the grass, toward West Garden of the Gods Road ahead.
Any pursuers? Nathan did a double-take on the side mirror. A lanky man in a lab coat sprinted across the manicured lawn, dodging around the occasional Frisbee-golf hole. Birk?
Chapter 47
Root of Bitterness
The Good In Me – Jon Bellion
June 4, 2016—
Albin took a seat beside Amanda in the pole shed.
“So,” Taylor began, looking up from tracing the carved graffiti on the tabletop, “are we going to New York, or what?”
A hush fell as the rest of the room waited for the answer.
A few meters away, Denver drew in the dirt of the driveway with her toe. “I want to go home.” Her mournful, weary gaze swept the assembled. “I’m sick of traveling. I just want a place where we can be safe.”
“We all do, honey,” her mother agreed, standing and moving to place a hand on the child’s shoulder. “But for now, we have to be brave and make do with what we have.”
“It’s like camping,” Taylor added. “Remember? Just like when Dad . . .” She looked away.
Behrmann paused in her pacing. “I’m going to see if I can get some information out of these people.”
