by David Spell
“Hey, Darrell, you guys need a break?” Eddie asked Darrell Parker, when the CDC agents reached the guard shack.
Darrell was a retired City of Baltimore police sergeant. After sitting around the house for a year, he’d had gone to work for the Centers for Disease Control as part of their civilian security team, eventually becoming a supervisor.
The sixty-something, white-haired African-American man stood, and nodded at the CDC agent. “Thanks, Eddie, I believe we will.”
Parker and his partner, Marcel Adams, spent their days manning the small guard shack at the entrance to the CDC location. Marcel, was a light-skinned, athletically built twenty-four year old. He had been a security forces member in the Air Force for four years before deciding to get out and become an Atlanta Police Officer. He took the job as a security officer with the CDC to bring in some money while he worked through the hiring process with APD.
When the zombie virus began to pop up around Atlanta and other big cities, it disrupted much of the police department’s administrative functions, including hiring. Thankfully for the CDC, Marcel had stuck around, offering to move into the rural compound. Despite the age difference, Parker and Adams had become good friends.
Even though no zombies had found their way to the temporary CDC base, both security officers were prepared, each packing a pistol and a long gun. Darrell had finally given up his trusty .38 Special revolver and was carrying a 9mm Smith & Wesson M&P. Marcel preferred the 9mm Beretta Model 92 pistol, just like the one that he’d used in the Air Force. Adams also had a Bushmaster AR-15 slung over his shoulder, while Parker carried a .12 gauge Remington Model 870 pump shotgun.
Marcel nodded at the CDC agents. He was still getting to know them, and if he was honest, a bit in awe of the three men. He had heard about all the zombies and terrorists that they and their other teammates had taken down. Darrell had even told him that Agent Marshall and his team had traveled to Virginia and located one of the terrorists who had launched the attacks on the University of Georgia campus. Terrell Hill had been arrested, while Marshall had shot and killed notorious Iranian bomb maker, Usama Zayad, on the same operation.
“Andy, your boy, Tyler, was out here earlier, keeping us company,” Darrell said, with a smile, looking at the former Marine.
“He wasn’t bothering you or getting in the way, was he?” Fleming asked, concern in his voice.
“Oh, no, sir! He’s a fine young man. I just wanted to tell you that I think you and the missus have done a great job with him. He’s smart, polite, and I like having him around. He had on his rifle and web gear and I know you’ve trained him well. I’m trustin’ the good Lord that no zombies will ever wind up out here, but if they do, I think young Tyler will be a real asset.”
“Thanks, Darrell. I’m sure proud of him. The poor kid is bored to death being the only teenager out here in the middle of nowhere.”
“I imagine so. Well, you tell him he’s always welcome to hang out with Darrell and Marcel.”
The CDC compound was surrounded by a six-foot chain link fence with razor-sharp concertina wire running around the top. The massive gate was wide enough to admit the RVs and campers that Fleming, Estrada, Jones, and Marshall had “liberated” from the recreation vehicle dealership a few miles away. It had taken a several trips but there were now eight of the full-size vehicles and even four pop-up campers inside the compound, supplementing the already cramped living quarters.
The center had been stocked surprisingly well with canned goods and freeze-dried foods. Dr. Charles Martin told the enforcement agents that the remote site was originally set up for only the most sensitive research and experimentation, and was designed to house no more than twenty researchers and support staff. Now, there were close to sixty people crammed inside the living and work spaces, most of them epidemiologists and scientists working on developing a vaccine for the zombie virus.
Dr. Martin was the Assistant Director of the Office of Public Health Preparedness and Response. On paper, the CDC Enforcement Unit reported to him under the umbrella of the Department of Homeland Security, but the good doctor and all the team leaders knew that the Central Intelligence Agency was their true boss, at least until Chuck had lost the ability to communicate with them. Until the communications grid was restored, Martin was the acting Director of the CDC.
Dr. Martin had spoken to Eddie a couple of days before, letting him know that they would need more supplies within the next two weeks. Marshall and his teammates would put off leaving the compound for as long as they could. With just the three of them and only two security guards, they were woefully understaffed. Sending a team out to hunt for food would leave the research facility in a vulnerable state. They all rotated working night shifts so they were always tired. They kept two sentries at the front gate every night. Eddie had authorized one agent or security officer to sleep while the other kept watch.
The three federal agents sat on folding chairs in the guard shack, gazing out the big window and down the single lane driveway. Each of the men was grateful to be in a safe place. So many people had been lost to the virus. There was no price tag that Eddie or Andy could place on having their loved ones in a secure environment.
“How’s Candice feeling?” Fleming asked Marshall.
“Man, she’s been puking her guts out for the last three days. How long does morning sickness last?”
“Amy said her’s lasted about a month.”
“I can’t imagine a month of that,” the muscular man said, shaking his head.
Estrada laughed. “American women just aren’t as tough as Mexican women. My mom had me in the morning and was back out picking grapefruits in the afternoon in the hot sun, with me strapped to her chest.”
“That explains a lot,” Eddie commented. “Your brain was fried from a young age. Do you guys mind if I go check on Candice?”
Andy waved his friend off. “Go, we’ve got this.”
Centers for Disease Control Compound, East of Atlanta, Thursday, 1430 hours
Eddie and Candice’s current home was a thirty-two foot long Winnebago. The RV was a far cry from their beautiful home in the upscale suburb of Alpharetta, but up to now, no zombies had found them and Eddie was grateful to be in a safe location with his pregnant wife. The Winnebago was parked on the far side of the compound, mixed with the other RVs, campers, and even a few tents. As he strode to check on Candice, Marshall reflected on the choices that had guided him to where he was today.
The former college football player was six foot three and a muscular two hundred and thirty pounds. He was dark skinned and kept his head shaved. He looked like he could still play linebacker for his alma mater, Notre Dame.
After graduating with a degree in Criminal Justice, but, surprisingly, not getting drafted by the NFL, Eddie had pursued his second dream of becoming a City of Chicago police officer. He’d spent fifteen years there and had loved every second of it. He eventually was able to land a position of working as an undercover narcotics detective. That assignment had provided one adrenaline rush after another.
After he had gotten promoted to sergeant and been back to the uniform division for a couple of years, Eddie started thinking about going federal. With his college degree, his years of law enforcement experience, including the last three as a supervisor, Marshall applied to and was hired by the United States Marshals Service.
Eddie found himself pursuing murderers, mafia hit men, cartel leaders, and many other fugitives. The adrenaline rush of tracking down and arresting some of the most dangerous people on the planet reinforced that Marshall had made the right career choice. And then Rebecca Johnson had come along.
He still had no idea how he had come to her attention. Eddie wasn’t looking for another job, but the timing couldn’t have been better. If he was honest, his marriage was unraveling due to the strain of his constant travel all over the country, and even abroad, to capture fugitives. Candice was an incredibly successful financial advisor in Chicago. The couple had never ma
de time for having children, but when they finally did start trying, Eddie in his late-thirties, Candice a few years younger, nothing had happened.
Marshall knew that his wife wanted children and felt terrible that she hadn’t been able to conceive. With him being gone for days and weeks at a time, however, there weren’t a lot of opportunities for them to try and make a baby. Eddie sensed the distance growing between he and Candice, but told himself that one day he would slow down
Eddie had been working for the Marshals for two years and had just returned home from being gone for three weeks, locating and arresting a particularly slippery mafia boss. He was shocked to find that his wife had moved out, leaving a note on their bed that she needed some time to think. Eddie immediately called her cell but it went straight to voice mail. He left message after message, begging her to come home or to at least call him back.
Candice eventually texted him, saying that she had moved in with her mother until she could find her own apartment. When he finally got her on the phone, she had spoken the words that he didn’t want to hear. She was done with him and wanted a divorce.
Eddie had some vacation time built up with the Marshals, and immediately called his boss, telling him that he needed to take two weeks off. For the first couple of days, he just sat around the apartment and drank, trying to ease the pain. He really did love Candice, but he could see now how he had taken her for granted and had, at least on a practical level, loved his job more than he had loved her.
His wife had made it very clear that she didn’t want to talk to him and he had honored that, keeping his distance instead of driving across town to his mother-in-law’s house. It was eating him up on the inside, though. Eddie Marshall was a man of action and he wanted to fight for and save his marriage. He just didn’t know where to start.
The phone call from Rebecca Johnson had come as he sat on his couch sipping a glass of Coca Cola mixed with a liberal dose of Jack Daniels and feeling sorry for himself. He didn’t recognize the number and let the caller leave a message. When he listened to it later, however, he was intrigued. The woman wanted to talk to him about a job with the CDC. Since when did the Centers for Disease Control have an enforcement unit? And what did they do? Arrest people who didn’t get an annual flu shot? And how had they even gotten his phone number?
Marshall was curious enough to return Johnson’s call. She wouldn’t tell him much over the phone but offered to fly to Chicago from Washington, D.C. in two days and meet him for coffee. He agreed to talk with her but couldn’t imagine hearing anything that would pull him away from his current job.
Eddie was ten minutes early for the meeting as he walked into the upscale cafe near the O’Hare International Airport. A tall, very attractive blonde with an athletic build, stood up from her table and motioned him over. How did she recognize me? he wondered. Rebecca’s handshake was firm as she handed Eddie her ID packet. It identified Rebecca Johnson as a Security Specialist with the Centers for Disease Control Enforcement Unit. A waitress took their coffee order and disappeared.
“Thank you for coming, Agent Marshall. I promise I won’t waste your time,” Johnson said, smiling.
“You definitely got my curiosity up. Since when does the CDC have an enforcement unit?”
“Since now,” Rebecca answered. “We’re just getting it started. You would be one of our first agents. The President recently signed an executive order calling for the CDC to create an enforcement branch. The reason for that order is classified, but if you decide to come work for us, you’ll be given a security clearance that would authorize you to have the big picture of what’s going on.
“What I can tell, though, is that there are significant bio-terror threats looming on the horizon. They are very dangerous, probably as dangerous as anything we’ve ever faced as a nation. The President has authorized us to move rapidly to get this thing up and running so that we can respond quickly and decisively.”
A Presidential Executive Order? That sounds like a big deal, he thought. And that is some interesting terminology: ‘quickly and decisively?’ Eddie worked for the federal government. He knew that they didn’t do much of anything quickly and decisively.
Marshall nodded. “But, isn’t that a job for the FBI? I thought they already had a terrorism division?”
Johnson gave a grim smile. “Yes, they do. Let’s just say that the wheels turn very slowly at the Bureau and the President realizes that. Have you had many dealings with the FBI?”
Eddie chuckled. “Yeah, I have and you’re right. The wheels do turn very slowly over there.”
Rebecca nodded. “The FBI is good at what they do but we’re being given the opportunity to create a small, quick-acting agency that will neutralize problems before the FBI even knows that there was one. We’ll work under the umbrella of the Department of Homeland Security instead of the Justice Department.”
Neutralize problems? That’s unusual phrasing for a law enforcement agency, he pondered. Eddie wasn’t sure what to think.
“Well, this all sounds very interesting, Ms. Johnson, but I’m not sure that I want to leave a really good job for a startup agency. But if I did, what would my position be?”
“You’d be a team leader. Our plan is to have at least two four-person teams at each office. You’d be assigned to the headquarters office in Atlanta.”
“Atlanta? I don’t want to live in Atlanta. I grew up here. Chicago’s my home.”
Rebecca didn’t answer for a moment, looking into Eddie’s eyes. He had the feeling that she was looking right through him and knew much more about his personal life than she was letting on.
“Sometimes a fresh start is a good thing,” she finally said, quietly. “One of the things that I can promise you is that there will be very little travel with this position. I know that you marshals spend a lot of time away from home and that can be tough on one’s personal life.”
Eddie was sipping his coffee that had just arrived, but the woman’s last comment caught him off guard and he burned his mouth. He gently set the cup down and wiped his mouth with the cloth napkin, looking at Johnson suspiciously. Her eyes didn’t give anything away. Did she know about his separation from his wife?
“I know what your current salary is,” Rebecca changed gears again. “You’d start at a hundred and fifty thousand dollars a year with us, plus a great benefits package. The cost of living in Atlanta is much lower than Chicago so that’s a pretty significant raise.”
Johnson stopped talking and waited for the giant of a man in front of her to say something. He had a stunned expression on his face after hearing that his paycheck would be more than double what he was currently making if he actually decided to change jobs.
“Well, that is definitely something to think about,” Eddie finally said. “I’ll need to think about your offer. And discuss it with my wife, of course.”
Marshall watched her closely as he said that and saw her give him a slight nod. She knows, he thought. This was like no job interview that he’d ever had.
“I want to make sure I’m clear on what you’re saying, Ms. Johnson. You’re offering me a job? I don’t need to go through a hiring process?”
Rebecca flashed her beautiful smile again. “That’s correct. I usually take care of my background investigation before I interview someone. Of course, I’ve read your file and talked to previous supervisors with Chicago PD and with the Marshal’s Service. I think that you’d be a great addition to our agency.”
What Rebecca didn’t tell Eddie was that he had also been screened through the CIA’s proprietary software that evaluated an individual’s intelligence, emotional makeup, and suitability for the job. He had passed with flying colors on every level.
“If you accept my offer,” Johnson continued, “you’ll start in six weeks. You’ll attend a two-month training course at the Federal Law Enforcement Training Center in Charleston, South Carolina. If you come by yourself you can stay in the dorms on campus but if you want to bring your wife, we’ll
foot the bill for a hotel. If you’ve never been to Charleston before, I’d recommend bringing Mrs. Marshall with you. It’s one of the most beautiful cities on the east coast.”
Eddie took a deep breath. Why in the world would he want to leave the U.S. Marshal’s Service to join a startup agency? What was it that she had said? That they were facing one of the biggest bio-terror threats in history?
“How long do I have to think about this?” he asked.
“Today is Wednesday. Could you let me know something by Monday?”
Marshall nodded. “Yes, ma’am. I’ll let you know something by then.”
By the time that Eddie got back to his apartment, he had made up his mind. He called Candice, knowing that she was at work and expecting to get her voice mail. She answered on the first ring.
“Hi, Eddie,” she said, her voice flat.
“Hey, Baby. How you doing? I really miss you.”
“Please don’t ‘baby’ me. I told you that we’re done.”
Marshall took a deep breath. “Okay. Sorry. I was calling to see if you’d have dinner with me Friday? Maybe we can talk things out?”
There was a long pause on the other end of the call. “I’ll meet you for coffee Friday after work. I have some things that I need to tell you, but it would be better if we talk face-to-face. But I want to make this very clear, Eddie, I want a divorce. I can’t keep living like we’ve been living. I’ve put up with you never being home and putting your career before our family for too long.”
Eddie heard her voice catch as she continued. “Because of your career we haven’t even been able to have a family. I’ll meet you, but my mind is made up.”
