Extinction Level Event (37 page)

Two more gunshots. Manjak sees the blurry outline of
the Commissioner coming towards him as the world around him is
consumed by blackness. . .

Back in the relative safety of the now heavily
fortified structure known locally as City Hall, McCarthy watches
the horror on East Alondra drive unfold through the LCD screens
along with the rest of the FEMA and LAPD staff. As soon as
Ramirez's command helicopter is hit and goes down McCarthy's gut,
more than the frantic inter -unit police communications, tells him
that the situation has deteriorated badly. An deep and acidic
feeling settles itself in his stomach as he watches the massive
firefight erupt between security forces and the would-be hijackers
in the urbane environment of Los Angeles. It is all that McCarthy
could do but sit down and watch the Mayor, Sub-Commissioner, and
FEMA officials try to get a hold of the situation. McCarthy walks
out of the control room to buy himself a coke from the vending
machine. In addition to being his favorite drink that he is nearly
addicted to, the caffeine should help him stay awake and focused
after twelve continuous hours on the job. He hopes.

Grabbing the can out of the opening, McCarthy takes a
sip and heads back to the control room. The Deputy Commissioner of
LA had taken command since the loss of contact with Ramirez's
helicopter, directing a large number of the units in South Central
to converge and secure the crash site. As he watches, force
lieutenants and sergeants speak in rapid, yet controlled tones to
their squads in the field, who in turn slowly make their way to the
crash site. Two of the remaining helicopters had taken up a
stationary patterns around the crash site, providing fire support
as well as clear camera footage. McCarthy saw to his dismay that
there were five visible gunmen between the downed chopper and
approaching security forces, who were locked in a firefight.
Ramirez and the pilot are spotted by the second helicopter, when
McCarthy notices whom they have between them. A bloodied and
lifeless Manjak, lying on the ground behind several crates while
being protected by the Commissioner. Another masked gunman appears
out of a small side street, firing his pistol wildly at the
Commissioner's position but is quickly gunned down by a aerial
sniper.

Several more quick shots ring out on screen, followed
by two SWAT agents hurrying down the alley to the Commissioner's
position. Ramirez and the pilot stand up, picking up Manjak's limp
body and dragging him between their shoulders as the SWAT officers
cover them, sweeping the area for more gang members. The two men of
the hour trot as fast as they can with Manjak dodging debris,
garbage cans, lampposts, and the occasional tree. After what seems
an eternity they reach the makeshift police line, barricaded behind
store fronts and sheds. An ambulance miraculously arrives at the
same time, swerving to a halt two dozen meters behind the
entrenched law enforcement officers. The commissioner and the
escaped pilot with the ambulance's EMTs haul Manjak's body onto a
stretcher and into the ambulance. An injured police officer is also
placed in the ambulance, before the EMTs hop on board and shut the
doors. The ambulance rushes off at high speed, leaving the
embattled police once again by themselves on the urban
battlefield.

Ramirez, though wounded slightly in the shoulder
where a bullet had grazed him, seems unfazed by the events, and
jumps into a waiting police cruiser which drives off. The
Commissioner's voice is finally heard again in the control room,
quickly stating that he is fine and retaking command of the force
from the Deputy. The good news at that point, was that the
firefight had become significantly less intense at that point. The
reason for this quickly became obvious when the lieutenant in the
corner shouted, "Sir, they're escaping! Chopper three has an eye on
a convoy of four vehicles heading south on Interstate five. Chopper
three is in pursuit." Now, the situation on the ground quickly
reversed, as the police went from being the besieged to the
besieging. The camera from one of the helicopters shifts from urban
geography and dense roads to four lane highway. No cruisers give
chase to the criminals yet but a swarm of three helicopters is more
than enough to keep an eye on the escaping gang. McCarthy realizes
that he needs to get back to his own work. First thing- check the
inventory and find out how much food and supplies the bandits had
robbed from the FEMA trucks.

McCarthy looks up at the inventory for incoming
convoys for the day from LAX. Food supplies are being brought in
from the Midwest, where normal levels of food production is still
ongoing. Cargo airlines have been chartered by the government to
fly in thousands of tons of pre-prepared rations and MREs to LAX,
which are then distributed by FEMA throughout Los Angeles and San
Diego. The inventory of convoy 6A included rice, potatoes,
ready-made bread, and 2,000 kilograms of vitamins A-D.
Is that
what they were after? Vitamins?
In the recent months it seemed
that criminals were more interested in bringing products, usually
food, from the United States than importing drugs from Mexico. With
food prices through the roof, it was easy to see how the border
gangs had changed their commodities to a more lucrative business.
While most law enforcement would not see food ordinarily as
anything remotely criminal, the nature of their acquisition was
still clearly again the law and as such the gangs were still
criminal. In addition they had not ceased their other, more
traditional operations.

McCarthy almost immediately decided that the food
lost was paltry-but that the practice obviously was not. He also
realized that now convoys would need police protection from LAX to
the distribution centers, whereas previously they had gone without.
There have been many previous incidents of theft of food, MREs, and
other supplies, but never one so violent as today's. It was clear
that the gangs would be taking greater risks.

McCarthy approaches the Deputy Commissioner and the
Mayor, who are discussing what to do next. "We definitely need
protection for those convoys,", he hears the Mayor say. "We can't
have a bunch of crooks running this town." "I don't know how many
more officers I can spare", replies the Deputy Commissioner, "We
are already spread thin as it is, between maintaining constant
patrols and keeping guard over the distribution centers". "Then
we'll get the National Guard as well.", replies the Mayor squarely.
"I'll talk to Chief Ramirez, but I think that, at this point we
need them. The situation most likely won't get any better. From
experience, I can say that the gangs will become more confident and
risky after today's trial by fire". "I'll speak to the Governor. So
we're getting the National Guard here." "Definitely. We can't keep
up with criminals who have the weaponry used today, especially if
they turn out equally as numerous."

The Mayor walks off to his office, leaving the Deputy
free to return to monitoring the helicopter chase.

McCarthy instructs a FEMA employee to call for a
police escort for the next convoy heading to the South Central
distribution center, and then calls LAX Cargo himself in order to
make sure a replacement convoy can get there fast enough. Once that
is complete he logs the days' events into his personal account,
from which the USDA will get a brief summary of the events
transpiring. With that finished, he dials Onassis to tell him in
words about the delays any food shipments to LAX will now be
experiencing.

"You!", Krishnan violently expels the seemingly
poisonous word, leaving a bitter taste in his mouth. "You!", he
repeats, standing over a table across from the sitting Jackson
Medina, who is staring just as aggravatingly and intently back at
him. Krishnan can barely contain the flood of anger, frustration,
and desire to simply kick the man straight threw the wall. But he
knew that he needed to restrain himself if they were to get to the
bottom of this inconceivable loophole of events. Here, in the
second-floor conference room of NBACC surrounded by two three FBI
guards as well as the Secretary of Agriculture, is not the time or
place for loosing coolness of head.

"You, of all people", Krishnan states more softly,
"What have you to say for yourself? Is this really you? How could
you possibly,
possibly
explain yourself?" Krishnan pushes
the play button on the security camera footage from one of the
parking lot at NBACC from September of the previous year. Medina
glares at the screen as a hooded man is shown entering the NBACC
facility through one of the side entrances into the large red
hospital-like complex. Moments later, the camera shuts down. "You
shut down the cameras!", states Manjak to the silent Medina. "You
have access to all the security systems in the building! Konovalov
never had access to the building. Yet you cleverly forged all of
documents allegedly proving his involvement in the organization.
Simply because you collaborated with his company is not an
indication that he knew what he was involved in. And his company
signed a non-disclosure agreement as well." Medina sits quietly,
looking at the video. "Do you deny these charges?", asks Onassis
from the back. Having heard enough, the Secretary of Agriculture
steps forward to the table and slams his hand down hard,
reverberating across the conference room.

"You can plead not guilty now, and perhaps claim that
the evidence here is wrong and that you are innocent. You may try
to refute the evidence. Or you can sit there and accept everything
we state as the truth. Either way, we will find out soon enough."
Onassis paces around the table, brushing the backs of the chairs
with his hand. "Theft of an illegal weapon device under your
jurisdiction and indiscriminate usage of this device on civilian
populations, with the full knowledge that the device is
unpredictable and untested in a live scenario, is not negligence.
It isn't even abuse. It is very much a crime again humanity, a
crime against this planet and every living being on it. I can think
of no sufficient atonement for you. The Secretary of Defense will
have to face his own trial for authorizing such a weapon which was
specifically banned under the 1969 Accords."

"I just have one question, really. . . . .
Why?
" Onassis leans down to look at Medina squarely in the
eyes, Onassis's dark brown iris directly matched to Medina's
slightly darker black. "Perhaps you cannot even justify this to
yourself", Onassis thinks aloud, "But there had to be some
reason
for doing this." "Why?!" he reiterates. Medina locks
his eyes onto Onassis, answering Onassis's single word question
with a deafeningly quiet single word answer, "
Faith
".
"Faith?", asks Onassis, stumped by the simplicity of Medina's
reply. The quiet in the room becomes an eerie silence with the
man's words. Even the FBI guards exchange quick looks of disbelief.
"Yes. Faith. I had lost faith." "Lost faith?" "I lost faith in
humanity". "Lost faith in humanity?" repeat Onassis, not believing
the answer. "Well, you see,", explains Medina, shifting his body in
the chair, "I've seen us do some many things, and we try to save
ourselves from this, that, and the other thing. We humans are such
hypocrites at heart. Lying, cheating, and stealing bastards, with
no respect for each other. I finally realized the true nature of
humanity, and you know what? Might as well give other species a
chance to live and evolve in our place."

Onassis and Krishnan listen intently as the man
previously in charge of some of NBACCs most top secret programs
revealed his thoughts on the world. "I was trained as a biologist.
Everything that goes on around us is a biological process. I hoped
that, by going to medical school, I would be able to help those in
need of help, those sick, those dying. I imagined myself as a
doctor. Of course that went well, I studied at John Hopkins. I then
specialized in virology. When I first got the job posting here, it
was incredible- working at cutting edge bio-defense in the hopes of
saving populations against terrorism. Ha. Even the word. . .
bio-defense? Who are we really defending against? The environment?
No. The environment needs a bio-defense against us. Especially
after all the decades of exploitation that we have done in the name
of so-called progress. But no, we continue, even at the risk to
ourselves and our civilization. We really are a greedy species, the
greediest I have yet to be acquainted with. And believe me, the
competition is intense. We say we like it "green", yet then build
more polluting industries and power plants instead of building
renewable energy sources. We finance enough wars to build so many
hundreds of new hospitals and schools but instead spent the money
on more violence."

"Even in our personal relationships, we deceive our
so-called friends and make new enemies. It must be a part of human
nature. Friendship is a lost concept to us. Family is barely what
it used to be. I've been through four divorces, and now I've got
nothing to show for it. Everything is about business, and even that
is so thoroughly corrupt you could hardly call it
business
anymore. The underground economy is more like it."

"So I've decided, fuck it. If the planet's ecosystem
goes the way of the dodo so will we. Then perhaps in several
thousand years some of the remaining species will repopulate and
take over, given a new chance at life without the worse pestilence
the planet has known. Maybe, in a few million years, another, more
evolved, and . . . shall I say,
civilized,
species will
become sentient and once again give this planet a chance at true
life. I'm through and through with the human species. When I
finally got the green light to proceed with this project, I
realized its potential and knew what to do. The hypocritical
Defense Department wouldn't let me engineer something like Ebola or
Smallpox, even though they still keep live samples in Atlanta. And
it would be obvious to the other scientists. This, on the other
hand, was ingenious, not to mention executed under their very
noses."