by W. R. Hobbs
With about 2 miles left to ascend, the lift came to an instant halt with the force jerking Taon painfully upward against the chair restraints. As he gathered his bearing, Taon noticed the gas starting to emit below his feet. Neuronium gas was a substance capable of incapacitating entire populations for extended periods of time without any long term harmful effects.
Instinctively he began typing into the data pad to analyze the composition of the gas and to determine the structural make-up of the lift. The data that he queried revealed that the lift had an access hatch above the seats. It also housed a propellant canister under the floor that contained a liquid which appeared to be volatile if mixed with the gas. But he had no way of getting through the thick metal floor plate.
It was becoming increasingly harder for Taon to breathe. He ripped off the restraining belts and hopped out of his seat. With no other options at his disposal, he simply began punching the floor of the lift. He was surprised with his very first strike when the floor dented significantly. Another series of strikes produced about a foot wide hole to the inner mechanics under the floor. He located the canister and ripped it out with sparks from the electrical components spewing out.
Taon crawled out onto the top of the lift, twisted the valve on the canister and tossed it down. He slammed the hatch shut and waited. The explosion was fierce and again propelled the lift. This time it ascended even faster than before. He was pressed firmly against the top as he looked upward to formulate his next move.
“Sir, the lift is moving again. All systems were disabled and the gas was emitted but it is ascending again.”
“What! Is the surface still secure?” Bracken inquired.
“Yes sir,” Osborne affirmed.
That exit from the shaft will likely be closed. What now? Taon wondered.
He only had a few seconds left to figure it out. He turned over and rose to his knees with his back arched upward. His concentration was intense when an electrical field began forming around his body. As he approached the top of the shaft, the energy field was bursting above him and hit the hatch cover, blowing it off its hinges upward into the hanger.
The soldiers were staked out in heavy numbers, completely surrounding the surface exit with their weapons aimed and new orders to terminate.
When the hatch cover flew off the soldiers began firing. Most were armed with conventional fire-power but a few were using more effective particle weapons. Regardless of their choice of weapon, their volley was short lived after the electrical field blasted from the shaft creating an electrostatic discharge. The web of lightning bolts mushroomed outward as Taon exited the shaft; shocking every surrounding soldier into instant unconsciousness. All of them hit the hanger floor almost simultaneously.
Taon was ejected over 50 feet into the air when he shot out of the shaft. He landed on his feet about 40 yards away near a row of oddly shaped aircraft. The thin black crescent shaped ships donned a two person cockpit located in the middle of what was essentially a singular forwardly curved wing. Two large docking clamps were attached to the tips of the wings and suspended each ship above the hanger floor. There’s my way out!
After leaping onto one of the wings and hopping into the open cockpit, he removed the data pad from a pocket on the bio-suit and pointed it at the instrument panel. A small beam of light emitted toward the panel and activated the controls. The cockpit canopy closed and the clamps released while the anti-gravity engines allowed the craft to hover in place.
A second group of soldiers began flooding into the hanger as Taon looked upward. The schematic Hauer provided indicated the hanger doors were actually located on the ceiling of the structure. The desert floor above started separating as the massive doors began opening. When the troops fired their weapons, the projectiles simply bounced off a cold plasma shield that had initialized around the hull.
Taon looked down at the men as he hovered over them and out of the hanger. A series of coordinates flashed on the primary display panel when the craft breached the desert floor. Two automated surface defensive plasma cannons began firing at the fleeing fighter. All but one shot missed their target as the ship accelerated with blinding speed toward the western sky escaping their range.
Bracken was leaning over his desk with his fingers interlaced and clinched watching the entire episode unfold on his video feed.
I can’t fucking believe this!
“Alert Space Recon to track that ship and bring me Hauer!”
CHAPTER 04
Residential Occupation Center – Oakland, CA
Ben’s first waking thought after his short rest was about the interesting man he observed being processed earlier that morning.
There is something very odd about him and I need to see if he is the one. He is likely still near the interment command center, Ben thought.
The command center was where most new detainees lingered in shock trying to comprehend the enormity of the camp and their new predicament. The endless rows of overpopulated houses and the dirty smells of close quarters living brought back disturbing memories of Ben’s homeland after the war.
It happened three and a half years ago. The world economy had been suffering for several years, but no one was really prepared for how quickly it crumbled. Ben was no businessman but he did pay attention to the financial news because it had a direct impact on his job. When buildings were not being built, he was not working.
He didn’t know the intricacies of how it began but after four days the major world stock indices had lost over 80% of their values. Over 64 trillion dollars of wealth evaporated in just over 72 hours. All the major world governments instituted an array of stop gap measures to no avail. The world economy had collapsed.
At first, the riots seemed manageable but in about a week the entire social fabric of the worlds developed societies had unraveled faster than anyone could have imagined. As governments fell across the Mideast, Ben and his countrymen knew the danger was increasingly imminent to Israel. First, it was Pakistan and then Iraq. Within two weeks only Saudi Arabia and Israel remained with functioning governments. The Americans redeployed their troops to Pakistan, but it was too late.
Al Qaeda and other terrorist elements that had been subverting the Pakistani military gained what they had so long sought– control over the nuclear weapons. The Israelis made the critical mistake of hesitating to make a preemptive strike because of the U.S. troop presence.
At 4:00 a.m. on a mid-July morning, a 15 kiloton warhead struck Tel Aviv. Then two more struck – one in Haifa and the other in Risho LeZiyyon. The comparatively low yields leveled the inner radius of the cities but created less destruction than the average person would have guessed. It was the Israeli response that made the region a hell on Earth.
Pakistan’s, Iran’s and Syria’s major cities were annihilated in less than 30 minutes. Had it not been for the economic collapse with which most countries were preoccupied, this event would have been the opening act for World War III. As it turned out, the rest of world turned a blind eye opting to maintain resources dedicated to their own survival.
The aftermath of this nuclear exchange created an ecological catastrophe throughout the entire region. Survivor camps were set up near the devastated areas. These camps resembled the Oakland ROC but with thousands of people suffering the effects of close proximity radiation exposure.
Ben had been in Netayna working on a resort contract at the time of the blasts. While he was away from his home working, the rest of his family had left Petah Tikvah to vacation with his grandparents in Tel Aviv for the month of July. And it was there that Ben’s entire family met their fate in a downtown apartment near the center of the first blast.
It was the slicing cries of infants that disturbed him the most. His youngest child was only 14 months old.
Those damned bastards.
Ben anguished as he made his way past the people jammed in the broken down houses, the people huddled in tents and makeshift huts, and the people wandering the streets.
He made his way to the ROC Command building that resembled a prison within a prison.
Once a person was interned through the perimeter entrance, they were led by armed soldiers to the heavily fortified former post office to complete their processing. Once there, the interns received their residential classification and a dissertation on the center’s behavioral rules. Each resident was given a plastic card with an I.D. number that was used to track their credits. These cards had become a de facto commodity in the Oakland ROC because without one you could not eat or gain access to other basic necessities.
As Ben approached the former post office, he questioned himself.
Why the hell are you doing this?
He really did not have an answer to this most logical question other than his desire for new information which outweighed the risk he was about to take in such an interaction. And there was that dream.
He prowled around the outer concrete barrier of the command building maintaining as much stealth as possible by walking slowly behind other residents in order not to be noticed by the guards. As he rounded the south barrier he saw him.
The man was standing just outside one of the compound gates. This was the calmest person Ben had seen in this hell hole for a very long time. The stranger was only a couple inches shy of 7 feet tall and was practically a giant among those around him. The tall muscular man’s demeanor perplexed Ben. The man was gazing intently at the satellite dishes and antennas on the command center roof.
“Hello,” Ben remarked as he walked up beside the man still engaged in his observation.
The man looked over at Ben and after an intense stare and quick assessment answered back, “Hi.”
“My name is Ben.”
“What can I do for you Ben?” the man asked, returning his attention back to observing the roof of the compound.
“I wouldn’t stare too much in that direction my friend,” Ben warned.
“Why is that?”
“These guys do not particularly like being looked at by us.”
The man turned back and glared down with his cobalt eyes Ben. “And I’m not particularly concerned with what they like. But you may be right – no need to draw attention,” he said while giving Ben an affirmative nod.
“Have you gotten your ration card and section assignment?” Ben queried.
“Yes. I am assigned to Section 28.”
“That is about a mile in that direction,” Ben pointed to the northeast corner of the camp. “I can take you there if you like.”
“Thanks but there will be no need for that. Is your section nearby?”
“I’m in Section 03. It’s about an eighth of a mile to the east.”
“Well Ben, I would like to be closer to this building than Section 28. May I walk with you to your section if you do not mind?”
“Of course, no problem,” Ben said with his curiosity now peaking as they walked back in the direction of his residence. “I noticed you in the line at the main gate this morning. I must admit that I came down here to see if I could find you.”
“Is that right? Well tell me Ben why such an interest?”
“Its been a long time since I saw someone come through that gate that didn’t look like they had just traveled to hell and back. Your appearance and demeanor stood out to me. Here in the Oakland ROC we get virtually no information or news about the outside world. You seem like a person that may have both.”
“Information can be just as disturbing as it is comforting.”
“You speak the truth my friend. Many of our fellow residents have learned that the hard way here. But I will take my chances with you…I didn’t get your name.”
“You can call me Cadan”
“Where are you from Cadan?”
“A place you never heard of,” he replied in a rather dismissive tone.
“I’m originally from Israel. I was in the construction industry there. I have been here in Oakland for three years now,” Ben explained as they walked past the dejected souls lining the roads on their way to Section 03.
“That’s a long time to be in such a place. Do you have family here?”
“I lost my family in the Tel Aviv attack.”
“Tell me, do you want to be in here?” Cadan asked without any reaction to Ben’s obviously painful statement.
What kind of question is that? Of course I do not want to be in here .
“Well, it’s not a matter of want for those of us here. Its just a question of basic survival in my case. Besides, I do not think the entry gates swing both ways my friend.”
Cadan looked down at Ben, “Do you truly believe that?”
“I am not holding out much hope of ever getting out of here, if that is your question.”
“Hope is not what will get you out of here,” Cadan declared while looking forward again with a detectable smirk on his face.
CHAPTER 05
Jackson Laboratory
Six o’clock arrived quicker than she realized. Dr. Leroux was back on the third floor but this time in a larger room facing a wall sized monitor at the end of a long bowed conference table. Straka and Pennington were seated across the opposite side of the polished cherry table. They were hunched over their files talking back and forth in a very low tone.
After she sat down, the doctor began reviewing her data pad when the wall viewer flickered and displayed another conference room full of top military officials.
“Dr. Leroux, you may begin when you are ready,” Pennington cued.
“Gentlemen, we will be discussing our research and recent findings regarding the Syova Virus as well as Project Splicer,” Courtney announced.
After quickly sizing up her audience, she decided to provide an impromptu explanation of the Syova Virus origin.
“About twenty-five years ago scientists first began genetically engineering strains of vaccinia that were similar to the smallpox vaccine to act as an effective oncolytic virus. The modified virus was injected into a type of cell known as a cytokine-induced killer cell. Originally these cells exclusively sought out tumors and delivered the virus to the cancerous growth.”
One of the officers on the viewer interrupted, “Why do you say originally doctor?”
“I’m getting to that part. Eventually, various EU military controlled laboratories began widespread human trials on their own so-called oncolytic virus. The EU’s bio-military consortium ultimately disseminated the Universal Oncolytic Vaccine (UOV) in early 2028 with the assistance of the World Health Organization. As you may recall, they purported that it prevented and cured all existing forms of cancer. And, as you are all well aware, the vaccine has subsequently been determined to be the catalyst for the pandemic. But what you are not likely aware of is the fact that the UOV worked just as it was designed.”
“Explain,” General Straka directed Leroux with a furrowed brow of immense curiosity.
“We have discovered that instead of a vaccinia strain, the UOV was redesigned to actually deliver a modified cytomegalovirus to the recipient and eventually trigger an uncontrollable replication of brain cells– it was a virus purposely engineered to cause cancer instead of curing or preventing it. And, not only was it designed to specifically cause brain tumors, it was also engineered to be highly commutable through the airborne transmission of droplet nuclei containing exact replicates of the altered virus,” Leroux revealed.
“Let me get this straight. The UOV was actually a brain tumor virus that is transmitted like a common flu?” Straka queried.
“Yes. That is a simple way to put it,” Leroux answered, not fully appreciating the general’s necessity for a more succinct conclusion. “Gentlemen, the level of engineering required to create this virus is generations beyond our current ability and technology. One of the most striking findings is that this modified virus was designed to lie dormant in the host for an exact period of nine months. And of course this correlates to when the vaccine was distributed to the very first recipients in Northern Europe and the subsequent first
appearance of the Syova Virus nine months later in Helsinki, Finland,” the doctor concluded.
General Straka knew all too well the implication of these findings. Ever since the pandemic was linked to UOV, the general and his colleagues suspected it may have been a purposely manufactured global attack on Earth’s population. Leroux had just given him the evidence and he did not require any further elaboration.
“Dr. Leroux I would like to hear more detail about your findings thus far with Project Splicer,” Straka directed, abruptly switching the topic.
Courtney had prepared for a lengthier series of questions about her research on the Syova Virus and she was caught somewhat off guard. After a couple of seconds, she realized her cue and turned on the holographic projector embedded in the table.
“Project Splicer involves an intensive analysis of Human Accelerated Regions and how they relate to the cranial fragment submitted for testing.”
The image switched to display two genome tables and she continued, “HARs are a set of forty-nine segments within the human genome designated according to their relative differences between humans and chimpanzees with HAR01 demonstrating the highest variance. It was determined that some of the highly mutated areas are intricately involved in the development of human neuroanatomay and complex thought processes. For example, HAR01 consists of 118 bases and is the same in all mammals except humans.”
Leroux continued with her next slide displaying a diagram of the base pairs.
“Subsequently it has been discovered that HAR01 was expressed as part of a gene called HAR01F. This gene is associated with the development of the cerebral cortex between the seventh and eighteenth week of gestation in the human embryo. After this period of rapid development, HAR1 is turned off. The most striking attribute of HAR1F is the evidence of the eighteen base pair mutations that are different between chimpanzees and humans. Now it is still mathematically possible that these mutations could’ve naturally occurred over the last six million years but in fact they did not.”
