The Death Trilogy (Book 2): The Death: Eradicate

by John W. Vance

  Travis took in a deep breath, filling his lungs with the morning’s cool air. He trotted over to the SUV they had given him and headed to meet the magistrate and Martin.

  “How is your man going to get past the eye scanners?” Travis asked his first question of many.

  The magistrate and Martin had given him the orders and the plan of attack. Like Lori’s mission, his also had uncontrollable moving parts that if one were out of alignment, the entire operation would fail.

  Travis was smart and could adapt to changes in missions, which from his experience happened more often than not. His major obstacle was getting all those forces together and operating in a coordinated manner. He did have his doubts, though, once the military assets at the DIA saw their assault, they’d bring superior firepower to bear.

  “You won’t have to worry about the scanners. One of our people will be at the first checkpoint. He’ll clear Martin and then jump in the vehicle with him,” the magistrate answered.

  “Do you have any questions that pertain to your mission?” Martin asked.

  “You know, I was thinking about this while I lay up till the wee hours. Why is it that Lori has to kill him this way when you’ve all but assured me that you can deliver the bomb?” Travis asked.

  Martin went to answer, but the magistrate cut him off. “We are fully aware of how difficult each operation is and that it may not work. So we want to have redundancies.”

  “Makes sense, but still it puts her at risk when all you needed to do was take a bomb in,” Travis replied.

  “Just so you know, the bomb is the one we want most to work. It will destroy everything, especially that new virus. I want to incinerate it along with everyone else there.”

  “I’m still not getting it; you could have delivered a bomb a while ago, why now?” Travis asked, still not convinced by their answers.

  “Captain Priddy, are you up for this mission or not?” Martin asked.

  “Hold on there, I just have questions. Do you fault me for that?” Travis countered.

  “Captain Priddy is within his rights to ask; he’s about to risk his life,” the magistrate said.

  “Why now? Why use Lori? What’s up?” Travis asked, now becoming more suspicious.

  The magistrate leaned on the table with a forlorn look on his face. “Captain, I’ll be honest.”

  “Are you telling me you weren’t before?”

  “Of course, we were just leaving out a little nugget of info.”

  Travis adjusted in his chair.

  “We would have tried before, but we didn’t have a weapon ready to use. In fact, we don’t know if the weapon we have assembled will work. It’s not as if we can go around and test it. I managed to assemble a team of people months ago, but they just don’t know if what they’ve created will do what we want it to.”

  “So the nuclear weapon might be a dud?” Travis asked.

  “Correct.”

  “We can’t launch anything; we don’t have codes. All we’ve been able to do is take a warhead out of the missile and configure a triggering device. My team thinks they have it, but we won’t know for sure until you deliver it.”

  “There are so many ways for this to go sideways,” Travis said.

  “We’re aware of the risks, but you don’t need to be concerned about that end, yours is to lead the Scraps.”

  “What is his background?” Travis asked, referring to Martin.

  “United States Army.”

  “Why not have him lead the Scraps?” Travis asked.

  Martin raised his eyebrows at the question and looked at the magistrate.

  “There are several reasons, but you’re better equipped to handle the job as an officer,” the magistrate answered.

  This response rebuffed Martin, who slightly cut his eyes at the magistrate.

  “Don’t look at me that way. We discussed this,” the magistrate said in response to the look he got from Martin.

  “Wait a minute. You’re the leader of the people, but you’re not leading them? What’s the rub?” Travis asked, peppering Martin with questions.

  “I can answer that. Captain, Mr. Martin here is only an enlisted man; you’re an officer.”

  “Hold on, what did you do in the Army?”

  “11 Bravo.”

  “He’s infantry too. What was your rank?”

  “Staff sergeant.”

  “He totally could lead his people.”

  “Captain Priddy, you don’t know some of the sources, and delivering the weapon is paramount over anything else other than Lori’s success.”

  “There’s no guarantee the Scraps will listen to me. They don’t know me. You expect me to roll in there and take over,” Travis protested.

  Martin remained quiet as he watched the back and forth.

  Travis then decided to put his foot down; he never liked the fact that Lori was there alone. He didn’t trust anyone else to rescue her; he wanted that responsibility. “I’m not going to lead the Scraps, he is. I’m going to deliver the weapon, and I’m not budging on this.”

  Martin shifted even more in his chair.

  The magistrate was not one who enjoyed being told how things would be. While he fashioned himself as a fair leader, he preferred being a leader more than being fair. As a test to Travis’s resolve, he pressed him, “Not going to happen, Captain.”

  Now with the ball back in his corner, Travis was determined to hold firm. One of the several reasons he was a good Marine had to do with his determination. If Lori was to die and he hadn’t been there to rescue her, he might as well die himself. “It’s that or nothing. You can kill me now.”

  The tension in the room was high. The magistrate didn’t like Travis’s take-it-or-leave-it attitude. He looked at his stub and thought that this man in front of him knew how he dealt justice, and if he was asking him to kill him, it wasn’t a bluff. Travis might mean it.

  The seconds passed like minutes as the two stared each other down.

  Travis sat up right and placed his bandaged stub on the table. He placed his right hand on it and started tapping his fingers.

  The magistrate remained still; he kept his eyes fixed on Travis.

  Martin watched the showdown with excitement; he began to rock in his chair faster in anticipation of who was going to win this game of chicken.

  The magistrate broke his stare and quickly stood up. He put on his jacket and said, “It’s chilly in here.”

  Travis knew the comment was more him than the temperature.

  “Captain Priddy, I understand your desire to help your friend. She’s beautiful, I’ll grant you that. I’m not going to sit and argue with you; we’re running out of time. My goal was never personal. I wanted to place people where I thought they could do the best for our collective efforts. You can deliver the nuke, and Martin here can go back and lead his people in the assault.”

  Martin cracked a subtle smile and rubbed his hands together, but kept quiet. For him the magistrate made his decision and it fell his way, no need to add something that could overturn it.

  “Thank you,” Travis said.

  The magistrate looked at his watch, then back to the two men in the room. He gave a half smile and said, “If you’ll excuse me, I have some city matters to attend to.”

  Travis gazed at Martin, who still sat, his eyes looking at the table. It appeared to Travis he was deep in thought.

  The magistrate believed in never allowing disagreements to shatter protocol and manners. He walked over to Travis, his posture was upright and he held his head high. He straightened out his jacket before extending his hand.

  Travis stood, looked him in the eyes and shook his hand firmly like his father taught him many years ago.

  “Captain Priddy, I want to thank you, I know our relationship started out…difficult, but you’ve stepped up to the task. Mr. Martin here will get you set up with the vehicle and everything you need. I don’t think I’ll see you until you return. I wish you Godspeed.”

  Tr
avis raised his stub. It was becoming almost a showpiece for him now. “I’ll raise my hand to that, oh, yeah, you cut it off.”

  “I like a man with a sense of humor.”

  “What’s the saying? Let’s get the show started.”

  The magistrate nodded and stepped back; he turned to Martin and said, “I’ll see you after you set up the captain.”

  Martin nodded.

  The magistrate left the room and closed the door softly.

  Martin faced him and let out a huge grin. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen anyone challenge the magistrate before. That was…awesome.”

  “I have nothing to lose.”

  “That might be true, but it took balls.”

  “Or lack of brains.”

  “Since you’re now replacing me, I think I ought to tell you just what you volunteered for,” Martin warned.

  “I’m sure it won’t be easy.”

  “Leaving the bomb is only part of your job. You have a secondary mission as well.”

  Travis sat back down and leaned across the table. “I’m all ears.”

  “We’re dropping something there but also picking up a package. That was my mission, and now it’s yours,” Martin warned.

  “What am I picking up?”

  “It’s not what but a who.”

  “Go ahead, enough of the drama,” Travis sniped.

  “In the bowels of the airport is a laboratory. There you’ll find a patient you need to bring back. All the info is in a packet I put together for myself, but I’ll give it to you.”

  “A patient? Who is this person that is so important to the magistrate?”

  “I don’t think it’s because of who she was but who she is now. Her name is Cassidy Lange, and she was patient zero.”

  Denver International Airport

  Lori’s arrival had not turned into the horror that she imagined it could have. After he allowed her in, he was gracious and polite. He had taken her hand gently and walked her immediately to the couch to sit down. There he acted like the doting spouse or lover and queried about her time away. He had ordered his doctor to come and visit. She declined the medical attention, but he insisted, and there was no way to not have it done. This was his way of having her searched without appearing to be harsh.

  The doctor had arrived promptly and performed his examination in the bedroom, to include a vaginal examination; this under the guise of ensuring her pregnancy was progressing. Lori was two steps ahead and had made sure the polonium-210 was tucked away nicely, but uncomfortably. After her medical exam she resumed reacquainting herself with Horton, and while he skillfully played his role, she played hers. He never asked about the night she had escaped. Even when she went to bring it up, he raised his hand and touched her lips softly in a gesture to remain silent. His gentleness would have seemed sincere to anyone but her. She knew the monster that resided behind that handsome face. Knowing everything he did was orchestrated, an act to deceive her, she played along and did exactly what he asked even going as far as sleeping with him. She applauded herself for showing strength during her sexual encounter with him because all she had wanted was to find something heavy and use it to smash in his face. Almost on queue he had fallen asleep afterward, his first snore was her signal to find refuge in the shower.

  The hot water felt good on her skin, but no amount of water or soap could clean the grime she felt after having Horton lay with her. She cringed when she recalled each time he touched her. Her skin crawled when the memory of him being inside her came to the front of her mind. Being in the shower did bring back the memories of the first time he took her, but the difference was she refused to allow it to emotionally incapacitate her. She had one chance to finish this monster, so she couldn’t allow her emotional side to win out.

  Stepping out of the steaming shower, she was surprised to see him standing in the mist.

  “You scared me,” she said.

  “Sorry,” he replied. He had walked in there deliberately so as to do just what he did. His sole purpose now was to torture her; what he didn’t realize was that she was ready for the mental combat. “I’ve arranged for a nice dinner tonight. My chef is preparing a beautiful pork loin in a truffle glaze.”

  “Sounds great.”

  “Seven tonight, feel free to walk freely. I’ve let the guards know you’re safe to roam.”

  “Really?”

  “Yes, of course. Why would you leave? You just came back.”

  Sensing a moment to capitalize on, she stepped up to him. Water still dripped from her legs and fell on to his polished leather boots. “I didn’t tell you, but thank you for letting me come back with no questions asked.” She leaned in and kissed him.

  He returned her kiss and said, “You have a good day. We’ll discuss everything tonight.” He turned and exited, but neglected to close the door. Just outside was one of his guards; he whispered in his ear and gave her a wink.

  Before this would have frightened her, but she now felt she had the upper hand. She walked to the door, stuck her head out and said, “I’m such an airhead, have a great day too.” She closed and locked the door.

  She approached the steamed mirror and with a swipe of the thick towel wiped it clear. She disrobed and looked at her body. Her hand caressed the obvious baby bump that now protruded slightly. “Good morning, baby, how are you?” she softly said. “Momma loves you.”

  This baby was her world right now, and if she wanted it born into a world where it could have a chance, she had to complete the task ahead.

  She leaned closer to the mirror until her face was inches away. “Lori, you can do this. You WILL do this,” she said. This was an old mantra she’d use just before she’d have a meeting with clients. Before the outbreak she had taken self-help courses. She attributed the lessons in those classes to her professional success; however she routinely faltered when it came to her personal life. For whatever reason, her personal life was always complicated; she often told herself it was the cross she bore.

  With her self-improvement incantations complete, she whisked herself from the bathroom to the bedroom and dressed herself. As she put on each article of clothing, she did so with greater care and focus. This too was an old ritual.

  Back in the bathroom she finished getting ready for the day. Each time the brush coursed through her hair she pressed down ever so slightly so it would massage her scalp. Taking advantage of the fact she didn’t have to hurry, she enjoyed the primping.

  As she was putting the brush and detangling spray back in the medicine cabinet, she saw her bottle of red nail polish.

  She smiled and picked up the bottle. On the back was the price tag from CVS, which took her back to that day she’d bought it. She was returning home after meeting her lover, the Denver councilman, for the first time. Needing to pick up her refill of her birth control, she made a quick pit stop. As she stood waiting for the prescription, she saw the cosmetics. Glancing through the various assortments of eyeliner, blush and lipsticks, she had found this bottle. On a whim she picked it up and purchased it. She wasn’t one to wear nail polish, but for some unknown reason she felt she needed it. Sitting in the car outside the pharmacy, she applied it. Seeing her nails glistening with the ruby red color made her feel sexy; it was a departure from her stale life with David. Painting her nails was one way she could tell the world she felt sexy again. That affair radically changed her life; its effects still rippled. If she had not made the decision and violated David’s trust, he would not have fled the DIA so quickly or may have fought for her to be with him at Camp Sierra. Wanting to mark another pivotal day, she exited the bathroom and walked into the den with its cozy leather chairs.

  “This will be perfect,” she said, looking at the oversized chair and ottoman. She placed the nail polish down on the table but didn’t sit. “A drink sounds good right now,” she said out loud.

  She walked into his study and went right for the far cabinet. She opened the doors, and there sat Horton’s collection of alcohol
, all perfectly organized in different-size decanters. She lifted the lid from his favorite whiskey, and in the palm of her other hand was the small vial of polonium-210. She pulled the plug and dumped the entire contents inside. She swished it and replaced the top. She grabbed a glass, then took a bottle of tonic and filled her glass with ice from the small ice freezer.

  Turning around, she raised her glass, took a sip and looked directly at the security camera for a second.

  “God, I wish this had vodka in it,” she said, and then headed back to the den to apply the nail polish.

  Charleston, South Carolina

  Tess’s brutality towards the two men had made Devin a bit cautious in how he treated her. He wasn’t fearful for his own life but wanted to ensure he didn’t upset her.

  As they were coming back from a patrol of the area, he made only pleasant conversation and agreed to anything she proposed. It did help that she was right a lot, but where he might have had a slight disagreement, he decided to just let it go.

  The patrol gave them a good sense of the area. They had also found two small boats that could take them across the creek to the southern perimeter and bring them and the teens back.

  They discussed their options and again openly talked about the risk factor. The risk was there for anything they did, but they would make an attempt. However, they did give themselves permission to call the operation off without any judgment.

  They drew closer to the Humvee and could hear a slight moan coming from Morgan.

  “Sshh, you hear that?” Tess asked and put out her arm to stop Devin.

  He cocked his head and pointed his best ear forward.

  Another moan came from the other side of the Humvee. It was definitely Morgan.

  “The son of a bitch is still alive,” Tess said, a sadistic smile on her face.

  “You think that’s funny?”

  “Kinda.”