Tapping his fork on the table, Horn jerked his head toward the entrance of the room. “Hey, Boss. I think she’s looking at you.”
Grunting, Beckham twisted around and saw Doctor Kate Lovato standing in line. Her eyes darted away when she caught his gaze.
Riley chuckled, his laugh drawing stares from other tables.
Hesitating, Beckham pushed his tray aside. He waited a beat and then stood. “I’ll be right back.”
Walking over to the doctor, he thought of what he would say. He wasn’t the type of guy to engage in small talk, but he’d felt an instant bond with Kate back in Atlanta. She had survived in the midst of the chaos.
Their connection made him uneasy. He’d learned back in Iraq to never form any emotional bond with the civilians he'd plucked from hot zones.
“Doctor Lovato,” Beckham said, approaching her slowly.
She nodded. “Master Sergeant Beckham.”
“Call me Reed,” he said, offering his hand.
She regarded him with a cocked brow, hesitating before shaking his hand. “You can call me Kate.” She paused as if she was thinking. Then, with a half-smile, she said, “Thank you again for getting us out of Atlanta.”
“Doing my duty, doctor,” he replied.
“Well, thanks. You saved my life,” Kate replied. “Do you want to get breakfast?”
“I already have some,” he said, gesturing over his shoulder to the table. Horn and Riley gawked at them but turned away when they saw the scowl on Beckham’s face.
“I meant do you want to eat with me?” Kate said. “I only have a few minutes, but if I don’t eat I’m going to fall over.”
Beckham laughed. “Sure, join us after you grab some grub.”
“All right.”
Beckham walked back to the table. He already knew what the guys were going to say. “Don’t either of you even start,” he said. Sitting on the metal bench, he reached for his fork and shoveled a chunk of cold eggs into his mouth. He ignored the thoughts racing through his head. The world was falling apart around them. He didn’t have time to make friends.
“Doctor Lovato’s going to sit with us,” Beckham said when he'd finished chewing. “So make sure you are on your best behavior.” His eyes fell on Horn first and then moved to Riley. “Got it, kid?”
The younger operator chuckled. “She’s fucking hot, man,” he said, turning to scan the room. “Maybe the hottest girl in here.”
Beckham snapped his fingers and held Riley’s gaze.
“I mean, yes, sir, Master Sergeant Beckham, sir. Best behavior. I promise.”
“Dammit, kid. I told you not to call me that,” Beckham said.
Riley stifled a chuckle and went back to his food. Beckham was hardly satisfied, but he couldn't get angry at the kid's shit-eating grin. He stabbed another forkful of eggs.
A few minutes later Kate arrived with a tray full of steaming food. She set it down and took a seat opposite Beckham.
“Sup,” Horn said.
“You did well back there,” Riley added.
Kate pursed her lips but didn’t reply right away. After a moment of silence she said, “Thanks for evacuating us.”
Both men nodded and continued eating. She faced Beckham. “So, do you have new orders?”
He shook his head. “Not yet.”
“We’re going back to Fort Bragg,” Horn said.
“I thought they locked the island down,” Kate replied. She opened a mini milk carton and took a drink.
“They did,” Beckham said, shooting Horn an angry glare.
He held up his hands in defiance. “Hey, I’m just stating the truth. We aren’t staying very long.”
Horn stood and tapped Riley on the shoulder. “We better get back to the barracks.”
“I’m not finished eating,” Riley protested.
“Yeah you are. Let's go, kid,” Horn said.
Riley grunted, grabbed a piece of toast and said, “Fine.”
Beckham called after them as they got up. “I’ll be there shortly.” He watched the two leave. Then he pushed his tray away and folded his hands on the table. “I want you to be honest with me, doctor.”
“Kate,” she reminded him.
“Okay,” he said with the hint of a grin. “Kate. What are the odds we can stop the outbreak?”
“If you had asked Michael, he would have said the odds are dismal.”
“But what do you think?”
“I think we're in a lot of trouble. The virus has spread so fast and is so contagious that it’s almost impossible to stop it. Our only hope is finding a cure. But even then...” her voice trailed off and she shook her head.
“What?” Beckham asked.
“There's still the problem of creating and distributing a vaccine. And what happens after that? Our economy will be in shambles. Food production will have stopped.”
“You’re right,” Beckham said. His voice was grave and cold. “I’ve seen a lot of bad shit in the world, and this tops it all. But don’t worry about what comes after, Kate. Worry about finding a cure so there is an after.”
Kate nodded. “I will. It’s just...,” she paused and took in a deep breath.
He considered reaching out to her and then said, “You okay?”
“I’m fine. I’m sure you've lost someone or will have by the time this thing is over.”
He nodded, painful memories of Building 8 flashing through his thoughts. He flinched when he saw Tenor’s twisted face in his mind.
Kate looked up, studying him for a moment. “I lost my kid brother a few days ago. And after losing Michael,” she sucked in another short breath and exhaled. “It’s just been really tough to stay focused on my work.”
“I’m sorry,” Beckham said, knowing exactly what she was feeling, but not knowing what else to say. “Shit,” he blurted. He reached for his chest pocket, remembering that he’d once again lost the picture of his mom.
“What is it?” she asked.
He shook his head and frowned. “Picture of my mom. It’s a good luck charm. Just remembered it’s gone. I used to print them off before every mission, just in case it got lost.”
“I’m sorry. Maybe we can get you another one.”
He nodded and changed the subject. “Things are only going to get worse, aren’t they?”
“This is just the beginning,” Kate continued. “But thank God for Plum Island.” She glanced up at the low ceiling. “The lab has everything we need. And it’s new. Really new.”
Beckham saw a hint of wonder in her eyes. Was she thinking what he was? That this place was built in preparation for the outbreak?
“It’s almost like they knew this was coming,” Kate whispered.
Looking over his shoulder, Beckham skimmed the room for anyone that might be eavesdropping. Satisfied, he said, “That's because it was. Or at least I think it was.” Searching her eyes, Beckham knew she was thinking exactly what he was, that there was more to the outbreak than what Gibson had told them.
“I better get back. I need to continue working,” Kate said just as a voice from the side said, “Master Sergeant Beckham.”
Lieutenant Colonel Jensen had snuck up on them. He was standing stiffly a few feet away. “Colonel Gibson needs to speak with you, ASAP.”
“We’re almost done here, sir,” Beckham replied.
“ASAP means now, Master Sergeant.”
Standing, Beckham extended his hand to Kate again and in the most polite voice he could muster, he said, “Doctor.”
She narrowed her eyes ever so slightly and replied with the same restrained tone, “Master Sergeant.”
A weak orange sun struggled to peek out from a column of dark storm clouds. Beckham halted outside the entrance to the barracks to scan the horizon. Squinting, he saw they weren’t clouds at all, but plumes of smoke blowing away from New York.
“Never thought I’d see the day when American bombs were dropped on American cities,” Beckham said.
Jensen crossed his arms
and said nothing. After a moment, he said, “Colonel Gibson is waiting, Sergeant.”
“Lead the way, sir,” Beckham said, following Jensen down the narrow path. His suspicions about the island and about Gibson were amplified with every step. He knew everything was connected. It was obvious now that the virus tearing across the country was developed in Building 8. But was this some sort of horrible accident or something more sinister? Before he arrived at Plum Island, Beckham would have played the outbreak off as a horrible coincidence. Now he wasn’t so sure.
He noted the guard towers rising above the dome-shaped buildings in the distance. Everything looking brand new and stank of conspiracy.
“Pretty tight security,” Beckham said.
Jensen simply nodded.
Frowning, Beckham tried a new approach. “The entire station is pretty fucking impressive, sir, if you'll pardon my language. Never seen anything like it.”
“Sure cost a pretty penny,” Jensen replied.
“Looks like recent construction.”
Jensen stopped outside the next building. Two guards saluted. Jensen waved his key card over a security panel and then pushed the door open.
The overwhelming scent of mint and bleach hit Beckham as soon as he stepped inside. The lobby was brightly lit and furnished with a single center desk. It sat empty, no guard or secretary in sight. A hallway veered off to the right. Jensen made his way toward it, jerking his chin toward the passage. “This way.”
Their footfalls echoed off the walls as they made their way past several doors. When they reached the end of the corridor, Jensen paused and knocked on an unmarked door to the right.
“It’s open,” came a voice from inside the room.
Jensen pulled on the handle and swung the metal door open. Beckham held his gaze for a second and then stepped inside the dimly lit room, listening to the door shutting behind him.
A deep voice bellowed as soon as he entered the smoky office. “Welcome, Master Sergeant.”
Beckham stiffened when he saw the light blues eyes of Colonel Gibson staring through a cloud of smoke. The man sat behind a large wooden desk decorated with a single metal picture frame facing away from the door.
“Take a seat,” the colonel said, gesturing toward a chair in front of the desk.
“I’ll stand, thank you, sir,” Beckham replied. A short silence followed, and Beckham used the moment to manage all of the thoughts racing through his head.
Gibson eyed him and then stood. “Suit yourself.” He turned toward a window with a view of barbwire fences. “I saw your team on the list of forces here at Plum Island and I wanted to talk to you about Building 8.”
Beckham gritted his teeth, waiting for the grilling he had expected days before. He controlled his anger with a short breath through his nostrils.
“I’ve read the report and watched the video. You failed to recover the sample.”
“Then I’m sure you also saw what we were up against,” Beckham said, keeping his voice calm and measured. “And I’m sure you saw Major Caster hold a gun to my head.”
Gibson continued staring out the window. “I did. And I’m sorry for the loss of your team. All of this could have been avoided if I had known Doctor Jim Pinkman was already infected.”
The response took Beckham by surprise. He narrowed his eyes at the man. “So why am I really here, sir?”
The colonel faced Beckham. The creases on his forehead looked more pronounced than they had been in the briefing.
“You’re here because I need you and your men for a unique mission.”
Holding his gaze, Beckham straightened his back. He wanted to protest with a swift punch to the man’s jaw, but Gibson held all of the cards. He controlled the island and the aircraft. Beckham thought of Riley and Horn. His men came first. He had to hold strong, remain in control of his conflicting emotions.
“As you already know I have the scientists and the research equipment I need to find a cure. But…” Gibson shook a finger.
“You need a live specimen,” Beckham guessed.
“Yes, yes I do.”
“And you want me to lead a mission to capture this live specimen.”
Gibson nodded.
Beckham hated to admit it, but he needed the man now. To get his men back to Fort Bragg. “I’ll get you a live specimen, sir, but in return I’d like a favor.”
Gibson shook his head. “This isn’t open for negotiation. I’m not sure you understand. The Medical Corps has been granted full authority over Operation Reaper.”
“I heard.”
“You understand you report to me then.”
Beckham ran a finger over his chin. “I’m asking for a ride to Fort Bragg, sir. Give my team a chopper and you'll get your specimen inside of twenty-four hours.”
The colonel just stood there, staring, his eyes burning with defiance, but there was also softness behind the anger. The man standing in front of Beckham hadn’t always been such a hard ass. Something had changed him over the years, broken him like it had Spinoza and so many other men Beckham had fought with.
A trace of empathy trickled through him as he held the colonel’s gaze. It did not last. There was more to this story than what Gibson was letting on, and Beckham would eventually find out the truth. He’d hoped to learn more about Gibson’s connection to Plum Island, but for now he was focused on getting his men back home to Fort Bragg.
After a moment of silence, Gibson nodded. “All right, master sergeant. You get me a specimen and I’ll get you your ride.”
Beckham really didn’t like the idea of going back out there, but it was the only way. He raised a salute and said, “Deal.”
Kate stood inside the lab with a stinging anger growing inside her. She welcomed the emotion, having felt so numb since they’d landed at Plum Island. For that reason she’d worked through the night, picking up where she’d left off in Atlanta.
The testing on the mice revealed what she already knew. The virus didn’t affect the endothelial cells exactly like other strains of Ebola, but the problem with the tests was the same she’d experienced so many times before. The rodent models weren’t exactly accurate. Mice, guinea pigs, hamsters, and rats did not always mirror the same symptoms humans exhibited. And none of the subjects she’d infected with the Hemorrhage virus were displaying the same violent behavior as the infected humans.
Kate shook her head when she examined one of the mice she’d been working with all day. The creature lay curled up in the corner of a glass box.
“This isn’t working. I need a specimen with closer DNA to our own,” Kate muttered, looking for Cindy. The woman sat on a stool a few stations over, her visor planted against a microscope.
“Don’t we have any rhesus monkeys?” Kate asked.
“Yes,” she said, without looking up. “But we’re about to get something better. Colonel Gibson has already authorized a mission to retrieve a live specimen and bring it back to the island.”
“What?” Kate blurted.
Cindy glanced up, her lips pursing behind her visor. The woman looked confused by Kate’s reaction.
“You don’t have an issue with this?” Kate asked. “Do you not understand how dangerous this could be? Dealing with live samples is one thing, but an infected person demonstrating violent behavior?” Kate paused. “What if it gets loose?”
“It’s a risk we have to take, Kate,” Ellis said from his workstation. “Besides, I’m sure Beckham and his men will get the job done with no problem.”
Kate froze. “What do you mean Beckham and his men?’
Ellis stood. “Major Smith said they’re sending a Special Ops team into the field. I assumed he meant Beckham and the others.”
“Unbelievable,” Kate replied. “That could be a disaster. Not to mention it breaks about a hundred laws and regulations.”
Cindy let an uncontrolled laugh slip. “Regulations and laws? This is the end of the world, Doctor Lovato. There are no regulations or laws anymore.”
&nb
sp; Her cheeks red, Kate shot the woman an angry glare. A surge of different emotions hit her. The facility certainly looked secure, but she’d seen firsthand what those things were capable of. They weren’t mindless flesh-hungry zombies. They were humans. Very sick humans who were also very contagious.
Crackling from the intercom pulled the trio to the lab’s observation window. Major Smith stood on the other side of the isolation glass. Kate immediately thought of protesting Gibson’s decision.
Pick your battles, Kate, she thought.
“We should have a live specimen for you in the next twenty-four to thirty-six hours,” he said.
“And you are seriously bringing it back here?”
Smith stood in the doorway, an incredulous look on his face. “I was under the impression you knew this, Dr. Lovato.”
“Does Colonel Gibson have any idea how dangerous this is?”
“The colonel understands perfectly. And I can assure you, Doctor, that this facility is quite safe.”
“I’m going on record as saying this is a terrible decision,” Kate replied.
“I’ll note your concerns,” Smith said. “And when you’re finished, Colonel Gibson wants a status report.” The intercom clicked off and Smith left the room.
Kate watched him leave as a sudden roar vibrated through the lab walls. The faint sound was unmistakable. Somewhere above the island a military jet raced across the sky. The noise was a chilling reminder that Beckham and his men were heading into a war zone.
Sucking in a breath, she hurried back to the mouse she’d been working with all morning. It stared up at her with tiny red eyes and then rolled over and died.
-16-
A heavy, cold rain pounded the concrete. Soaked and tired, Beckham threw a jacket over his helmet and eyed Horn’s pack of cigarettes with contempt as they waited.
“Where are these guys?” Riley asked. He sat on a stack of metal crates that had the USAMRIID symbol on the side.
“Don’t know, but I’m starting to get pissed,” Beckham replied. Loosening the strap on his rucksack, he threw it inside the chopper and peered inside. A large metal cage sat in the back of the chopper, strapped tight to the wall and floor.
Extinction Horizon (The Extinction Cycle Book 1) Page 19
