Five Roads To Texas | Book 11 | Reciprocity [Sidney's Way 3]

by Parker, Brian

The missiles from England were already over Turkey—what used to be Turkey. Now it was just another place, filled with the infected. How had the Iranians kept their borders safe? Why weren’t they completely overrun like everywhere else in the world? Obviously, the easy answer is that they were prepared for it and had defended themselves against the threat, but it had to be more than that. They had hundreds, no, thousands of miles worth of border with their neighbors, but reports of infection were nonexistent, and the few intermittent reports that he’d seen said they were completely free of the infected. How? There had to be… The facility. They’d been working on a vaccine, he’d learned that much from the shoddy translation work his intelligence team was able to do using a translation program, but a lot of it didn’t make sense because the writing was difficult to read for their Western eyes. Had they developed something that they’d been able to use successfully to keep themselves safe?

  “Sir?” someone said. “Sir? The missiles are almost at the target.”

  Neel blinked. He’d allowed himself to completely zone out, staring at the screen as he thought. The little blinking dots that represented the missiles had passed through the computer-generated lines representing Iran’s international borders. He didn’t know the geography of Iran like he did Iraq and Afghanistan—the US hadn’t fought there. He knew there were several major cities and it appeared as if the missiles had been aimed at multiple targets across a wide swath of the country.

  “Is this real time?” he mumbled.

  “Yes, sir,” Dan McTaggert replied from the VTC’s speaker system. “We should be seeing the detonations soon.”

  “What about the missiles that we launched at them, or at North Korea?”

  “Those have to travel at least twice as far, so we’ve got some time before those become relevant, sir. But I do have my airmen tracking them.”

  There was a bright light in the center of Iran, followed by several more around the country and a couple more explosions nearer to the first one. The British had absolutely whacked the Iranians.

  “Holy shit,” one of his officers muttered from the table in front of him.

  Another said, “Those assholes never saw it coming. I hope they all fucking died in that.”

  Smoke quickly obscured the satellite’s view as tons of dirt, ash, and debris was thrown into the air. There was no way anything could have survived such an onslaught, and there were more missiles speeding their way from the United States to wreak further destruction.

  “Our satellites won’t be able to penetrate that debris cloud for thirty or forty minutes, maybe even a couple of hours, sir,” Colonel McTaggert said, his face reappearing on screen as the VTC operator switched between views. “I recommend we switch satellites to watch the North Korean attack.”

  Neel nodded once more. “Yeah. Good idea. Switch views to the Penn,” he directed, using the military’s shortened nickname for the Korean Peninsula.

  “Roger. Switching satellites now. This will only take a second.”

  32

  * * *

  TAEDONG, DEMOCRATIC PEOPLE’S REPUBLIC OF KOREA

  MARCH 11TH

  “I am already sick of this cold climate,” Kasra Amol groaned, allowing her head to roll back against her chair’s headrest. “Everything is cold.” She gestured at the table, and then the air around her. “Why is your pathetic country always so cold?”

  Administrator Kim smiled weakly. “I am very sorry for our accommodations, Ms. Amol. Winter is—”

  “It’s not just winter, you idiot. This place is always cold. Why am I here again?”

  “Because the Ayatollah demands an update on the vaccine’s progress,” Facilitator Sari answered from across the table. “Do not worry, Kasra, I have taken the liberty of ordering our Korean hosts to send a bevy of slaves to your bedchambers—male and female, as you usually demand. Once we have heard what our little friends have to say, you can relieve the stresses of such a long flight.”

  Kasra let her eyes linger on the Facilitator. He’d grown bolder over the last few months. It was simultaneously a turn on and sickening to her. On the one hand, she enjoyed using strong men. On the other, she really enjoyed destroying those same strong men. She’d allowed Hamid Sari far too many freedoms. He needed to be brought down a few pegs.

  “I will do as I wish, Facilitator,” she hissed. “I was simply remarking how cold this place is.” She turned to the diminutive Korean and said, “Turn up the heat. I need more warmth.”

  “I—I can’t, Ms. Amol,” Kim replied. “All heating in government facilities is controlled by the People’s Bureau of Energy. There is no…” His eyes searched upward as if he were scanning a book inside his brain for the correct word. “Um. I cannot remember the word. There is no control for the temperature inside this building.”

  “Thermostat,” Kasra spat. “The word you are looking for is ‘thermostat’. Curse this country. Seon!”

  “Yes, madam?” her bodyguard replied, moving forward instantly from his position along the wall.

  “Bring me a blanket from my luggage.”

  “Yes, madam.”

  “And slap one of the slaves when you arrive in my chambers. Hard. I want them to be cowering in fear when I arrive.”

  “Yes, madam.”

  As Seon left the room, Hyuk, her second bodyguard, moved closer to her. She often wondered why the men did this, but didn’t care enough to ask. They were a constant part of her life, with her twenty-four hours a day. One of them always near her, regardless of what she was doing. Most of the time, she forgot they were even there.

  Kasra shivered. She hated showing any type of weakness in front of these men, if they could even be called such. “Very well,” she said. “Tell me of your scientists’ efforts to create a vaccine. How have they faired when a joint Iranian and Korean team was not capable of success at Site 53?”

  The Korean nodded diligently. “The team at Site 53 was not properly motivated to—”

  “Not properly motivated?” Kasra exploded. “You were the administrator for Site 53. It is your job to motivate them.”

  “With all due respect, Ms. Amol,” Kim replied, holding up his hands placatingly. “I was only at Site 53 for five weeks total over an entire year. The rest of the time, I was sent back and forth between Pyongyang and Tehran where I established additional laboratories.”

  “It is still ultimately your failure,” she stated, daring him to contradict her once again.

  Kasra felt a presence behind her, causing her to turn in the swivel chair. Seon had returned with a blanket. He held it out for her. “Did you do as I ordered?” she asked, accepting the blanket and folding it around her legs.

  “Yes, madam.”

  “Tell me,” she purred.

  “Kasra,” Hamid said sharply. “We don’t have time for your base debauchery. Frankly, I’m tired of it and it is unbecoming of a devout Muslim woman.” Kasra’s eyes narrowed and she made a slight gesture with her hand. “I have no choice but to—”

  Hyuk backhanded the Facilitator, sending him flying from the chair. The giant lumbered toward him and Hamid cowered in the man’s shadow.

  Kasra clucked her tongue and said, “Do not forget whom the Ayatollah has given ultimate responsibility for this project, Hamid. I am the chosen one of Allah. I will lead his people to the Promised Land.”

  “You’re nothing more than a common street slut. You’re a gutter whore,” Hamid replied, wiping at his face.

  Kasra smiled wickedly. “I am as Allah has made me.”

  Once again, her eyes flickered to the big bodyguard. He ducked his chin subtlety and brought his foot crashing down on Hamid Sari. The Facilitator raised his hands at the last moment. The kick impacted against his forearms, smashing them into his face. He screeched in agony as Hyuk kicked him rapidly in the ribs, making him cover his stomach. What followed for several seconds was a comedic game of Hamid alternating to cover his exposed head or stomach as Hyuk changed the location of his blows. Finally, the body
guard landed one really good, unblocked kick to the temple, sending the Facilitator’s head bouncing off the floor with a thud.

  “Enough, Hyuk,” Kasra said. She turned back to Administrator Kim. The color had drained from his cheeks and he was sweating. It gave him the look of a waxed fruit that had been left too long in the desert sun. “Do you see what I’m working with?”

  He tried unsuccessfully to smile. “Y-yes.”

  The groans behind her were annoying. “Shut up, Hamid. Hyuk, put him back in his chair.”

  The bodyguard slipped a meaty palm under each of the Facilitator’s armpits and lifted him up. The man struggled weakly against the giant who was easily three times his size, if not more. Hyuk deposited him unceremoniously into the chair and shoved it into place at the table.

  “There. All better.” Once more, she turned to the Administrator. “Where is your Supreme Leader?” She allowed as much sarcasm into her voice as possible.

  “He is on his way, Ms. Amol,” Kim replied. “It is twenty-four kilometers from the Ryongsong Residence to our location. Your arrival was unexpected. Rest assured, he will be here soon.”

  “I grow bored of this. Hamid, what is—Hamid?”

  She snapped her fingers in front of the Facilitator’s chin. He was slumped in his chair, moaning softly as blood poured from his nose onto his stomach. “Oh, really, Hamid. It wasn’t that bad. I’ve made Hyuk hit me many times. It’s invigorating.”

  He responded with a sob. Pathetic.

  “Very well,” Kasra sighed. “Administrator Kim, why don’t you tell me about the vaccine? I want to know if there is a cure for the Cursed or is what you’ve developed a measure to stop the infection from occurring?”

  “There is no cure for the infection once it has taken hold of the subject’s brain, Ms. Amol. Their minds are forever changed, little better than animals. But my scientists have been able to recreate the blocking agents that Sanjay was working on when he was murdered in Texas.”

  Sanjay. That was a name she hadn’t heard in a while, probably since she killed Nampoo Yi. That reminded her…what ever happened to his family? Were they still locked away somewhere, chained to the bed he’d kept them on, or had they been able to slip free of the restraints once they became skinny enough from starvation? Oh well, she thought. They were of little concern to her. They were insignificant. Nothing.

  “This means we can vaccinate our troops in America against the infection, correct?”

  “Yes, madam.”

  “Good. The activities of the Cursed keep them at bay and every action must be thoroughly planned because of the threat they pose. If we could remove that threat, then we’d be able to finally wipe out the pockets of resistance that are a thorn in our side.”

  “That is the plan, yes.”

  Hamid groaned beside her. “Yes? Do you have something to add?” she asked, perturbed at his continued interruptions.

  “No… I—”

  An alarm began to thrum across the base. “What is that?” Kasra demanded.

  “Uh… I do not know!” Kim admitted. His hands gripped the arms of his chair tightly.

  Seon’s hand went to his ear and he nodded. “We need to leave, madam. Now.”

  “What is it?”

  “Tehran destroyed. Missiles inbound toward Pyongyang now.”

  Kasra did not hesitate. She leapt to her feet and ran behind Seon as he jogged down the corridor, shoving small Korean soldiers out of the way who dared to interfere with their escape.

  “How was Tehran destroyed?” she demanded as they ran.

  “Unknown, madam,” Seon replied. “It happened in an instant. Only a few cities and military bases remain. They radioed your pilots immediately, per protocol.”

  “Hurry!” Kasra hissed as they emerged into the blistering cold. Two hundred meters from the building, the engines on her jet were already sending waves of heat skyward. Her heels clacked uselessly against the tarmac and she felt herself lifted into the air by Hyuk as he picked up speed. The two men closed the distance to her jet effortlessly.

  “Kasra!” Hamid Abdullah Sari screamed from the building’s exit. “Take me with you!” She watched over Hyuk’s shoulder as the Facilitator limped toward the plane, favoring his right leg as he held tightly to his ribcage with bruised and bloodied hands.

  Hyuk surged up the stairs into the jet. Once inside, the crew began turning the plane for takeoff. With the stairs scraping along the concrete, the stewardess struggled to operate the lift controls while the jet was in motion. Finally, the door lifted away from the ground and fell into place as they lined up on the runway.

  “Go! Go!” Kasra heard someone yelling from the cockpit.

  Out her window, she saw Hamid limp further toward the tarmac and the wing passed rapidly over his head. Then he was gone as the plane lifted into the night. Her mind raced. She needed to take charge of the situation and learn what was happening.

  “Where are we going?” she demanded.

  “Away from here!” the pilot screeched. “Nuclear missiles are inbound. Tehran was hit a few minutes ago.”

  “Phone,” she said, holding out her hand to Seon.

  He produced a satellite phone from inside his jacket and handed it to her. Kasra tried several numbers, none of which worked. She felt the plane increase speed beneath her as the pilots pushed the jet engines as fast as they would go.

  To Hyuk, she said, “Go find out where these idiots are going.”

  The ground sped by faster than she’d ever seen before. How fast were they going? she wondered. Did pushing the jet so hard burn more fuel? That set off another string of questions in her mind, specifically, had they refueled and how far could they make it on the fuel they did have?

  Shouts of anger drifted back from the cockpit. “Oh, for fuck’s sake,” she grumbled, pushing herself up from the seat. She walked to the front, where Hyuk blocked the entrance to the cockpit.

  “Hyuk, move.” He stepped aside wordlessly. “What could you three possibly be arguing about?”

  The copilot turned to her. “We are debating whether to be higher in the atmosphere or lower to the ground.”

  “What?”

  “The missiles will impact in approximately…” He turned to look at one of the myriad of gauges, gadgets, and baubles on the dashboard. “I estimate two, maybe three minutes, madam.”

  “So, what’s the argument?” she demanded.

  “Major Hosseini wants to go higher for faster speed,” the copilot replied. “I want to stay lower to the ground to avoid the potential EMP from the missiles.”

  “Go higher, you idiots,” Kasra replied instantly, the action already decided in her mind. The pilot immediately began ascending into the sky. “The farther we can get away, the less likely it is that we’ll be affected by an EMP. If we do get hit with one and lose power, being higher in the air will give you two more time to react and hopefully steer us toward a landing spot.”

  She turned and walked back toward her seat. “Champagne. Now,” she told the stewardess. “I want to have a glass in my hand before I sit down.”

  The stewardess was not quite as fast as she’d demanded, but it was close enough that Kasra didn’t feel the need to rebuke her. She took a sip, allowing the liquid to glide down her throat. She felt like she needed to drink the entire bottle to relax her nerves.

  The world outside her window went from dark and dreary to a fiery orange as the nukes hit Pyongyang. That idiot, Kim, had said they were twenty-four kilometers away from the palace in Pyongyang. Had they gotten far enough away? She watched out the window as more explosions blossomed at various points behind them.

  The plane flew smoothly for thirty or forty seconds, then bucked and shook violently as the shockwave from the blasts hit them. Kasra held onto her glass of champagne temporarily, spilling most of it before the glass finally tumbled from her grasp and she had to cling to the armrest or risk falling along with the glass.

  There were alarm bells and flickering lights.
Everything was a blur. The plane struggled to stay aloft.

  Then, it settled and the jet evened out. Cheers erupted from the cockpit and she allowed a wicked smile to curve across her face. Allah had spared her life once again. He still had a purpose for her. She would personally oversee the destruction of the infidels who’d destroyed her homeland and tried to kill her.

  “Seon.”

  “Yes, madam?” The big man sounded as if nothing out of the ordinary had happened.

  “Tell the pilots to set a course for either Alaska or Hawaii, I don’t care which. We will need to land and refuel. Then, we link up with our forces in America and destroy our enemies once and for all.”

  “Yes, madam.”

  He stood and made his way past the stewardess, who stepped aside to let him pass. When he was beyond her, the young lady walked to Kasra with a new flute of champagne.

  “Very good,” Kasra remarked, grasping the girl’s hand when she took the glass. “Very good indeed. Bring the bottle and meet me in the bedroom.”

  “Ma’am?”

  “I will have to take out my frustrations upon you,” she said, eying the girl. “Do not worry, little one. You’ll like it.”

  Kasra stalked toward the back of the plane where she had her bedchambers. Outside, the world burned. Almost as much as her desire for the girl walking haltingly behind her.

  33

  * * *

  LIBERAL, KANSAS

  MARCH 11TH

  It took Sidney and Mark much longer than she’d anticipated to reach the Iranian facility at the airport. The infected seemed to be everywhere. Maybe it was the warmer weather, or maybe they were still amped up by the events at the outpost. She didn’t know. Whatever it was, it had restricted their movement to an annoyingly slow pace.

  Vern said this had been a mild winter, but the infected hadn’t fared well over that time. Many of them were naked, or nearly so, and they stayed outside as best as she could tell. They didn’t seem to notice the blackened, dead fingers or the weeping, oozing sores. She knew they ate and drank, and that their bodies still functioned more or less like a regular person, so how were they able to shrug off the injuries and the sickness?