Medora Wars (2 page)

Elise shook her head. “No, no Secretary, it’s nothing. Shall we?” She stood from the chair.

The crowd moved down a corridor that led out into a large opened area of the mall. Elise walked to a railing that looked out over a massive view of streaming sunlight leading down into multiple levels of shops and kiosks. Several stories farther down was a mezzanine on the main floor where a stage was set up with a large red ribbon.

The small entourage moved to a set of glass elevators and crammed into one with its rounded vestibule jutting out into the open space of the mezzanine. Elise looked down at the vastness of the mall and momentarily imagined that she was floating free in space. Her heart jumped as she projected forward to giving a speech. She felt her mind trying to detach from the situation and float away, washing away the anxiety. A scenario of a phone call with the White House sprouted in her thoughts. She imagined giving her resignation and asking for immediate transportation to her home in Baltimore. Her mind then wandered to the small metal case she kept in her purse, which she now realized she left in the car. The air in the elevator compressed and filled her body with a rising panic. She looked outward through the window to mask her face from the group in the elevator.

“Miss Ambassadora.” Gamez lightly rested her hand on Elise’s forearm. “You’re going to do great.”

The warmth of her touch sent calming waves in her thoughts and silenced Elise’s building anxiety. “Thank you, you’re right. Everything will be just fine.”

The elevator announced a high-pitched tone as it came to ground level, which opened directly across from the stage. The group stepped out and moved toward several rows of chairs that had been set up in front of the stage, which had now filled with reporters.

Elise looked on either side of the stage crowd and saw that several policemen had positioned themselves around the sides. As she approached the stage she nodded to one of the policeman, who responded with a slight smile. She made her way to the side and stepped up the short staircase.

Gamez followed behind and motioned for her to have a seat on the row of chairs that had been set up on the stage in front of the gigantic red ribbon.

As they took their seats, Elise looked out past the rows of reporters, to the entrance of the mall. A large crowd of people had completely enveloped the outside entrance of the building. They swarmed around the glass doors, blocking the sunlight that would normally fill the foyer.

“See all the crowds?” Gamez asked, leaning over to Elise.

“Yes, are they shoppers?”

“Yes. As soon as we cut the ribbon, the shopping center will officially be open for business, and we will open the doors for everyone to come in and start shopping.”

“Oh, wow. It looks like they really want to get in.”

“Ha, ha. Yes, we have been advertising the opening for the last month on TV and radio. There are many discounts today in all the shops.”

“Well, we better get this ceremony done soon, or they’re going to break those doors down.” Elise forced a laugh.

Gamez gave her a confused look, failing to understand the humor. “Oh no, they will wait for us to be done. No one will be breaking in here.”

“No, no of course not. I was just joking.” Now Elise sincerely laughed.

“Oh, of course.” Gamez looked forward as the crowd of reporters took their seats. “Okay, I think we can get started. You will be giving your speech in Spanish, correct?”

“Oh, yes.”

“Where did you learn to speak?”

“Mostly in college. I went on several service trips to Chile, Argentina, and Costa Rica in my twenties.”

“How nice!” Gamez replied loudly over the noise of muttering reporters.

The ceremony began with a small balding man making various introductions in Spanish, with the crowd applauding at predictable intervals during the speech. Every so often a camera flash came from the crowd, creating trailing streaks in Elise’s vision before fading away. After the man sat down, Gamez got up and spoke for several minutes about the long-standing relationship Mexico has had with the United States. She then motioned over to where Elise sat.

“Y ahora, me da mucho placer introducir la Embajador de los Estados Unidos, Elise Whitten.” Gamez backed up from the podium and motioned for Elise to approach as the crowd applauded.

Elise smiled and looked out over the crowd as she gave a small wave, then made her way to the podium. Breathing deeply, she opened up a manila folder containing her speech and cleared her throat. “Queridos amigos de los Estados Unidos, me alegra mucho estar aquí con ustedes.” She felt her nerves cool as she finally realized that she had given hundreds of speeches in her career, and that this one would be no different. “Me gustaría…” she slowly trailed off as a small stir in the crowd outside the building moved quickly in a frenzy. “Es…” she attempted again when several people from the outside crowd pounded on the glass.

Turning to Gamez, she looked for some reassurance, and was about to speak up when a thunderous explosion of glass broke out at the entrance to the mall. Instinctively ducking, Elise looked over and saw that a white delivery van had crashed through the entrance doors of the building, knocking over metal door frames, and spewing people from the crowd forward into the building. The van had slowed in speed from the impact and sped out slightly on the wreckage of bodies and broken glass, but then gained traction, and moved forward through the low clearance of the mall entrance into the opening foyer.

“Bájense!” Sheffield yelled as he rushed up the steps of the stage. Another voice shot out in Spanish from a group of policemen, who drew their guns, and moved to the back of the crowd where the van approached.

Elise shuffled on her hands and knees toward the end of the stage, while Sheffield ran over to her and escorted her off the back to the floor below. Looking back, she saw the van approaching the crowd of reporters, with a second van coming into the same destroyed entrance.

“What’s going on?” She looked up at Sheffield, who now had his gun drawn and pointed at the approaching van.

“Just stay down, exactly where you are,” he shouted without looking down at her. The entire staged cleared of all people, including Gamez, who had flipped off her high heels and ran off and down a hallway of shops.

The second van sped up and was almost touching the front van’s bumper as the two drove in, winding around the elevator banks, and approaching the crowd of reporters that was now scattering in a flash of panic. Two policemen ran past the crowd and toward the first approaching van, their guns pointed at the windshield. They stopped and stood side by side as the vans slowed.

“Párense o tiramos!” one of the officers shouted, lifting his gun.

After a momentary pause in speed, the two vans synchronously sped up and drove straight at the two policemen, who dove out of the way, while the front bumper of the van clipped one of them on the hip, making him topple over and cry out in pain. The vans continued forward, crashing into the folding chairs that had now been emptied by the fleeing reporters, and stopped a few dozen feet from the front of the stage. Most of the crowd had scattered, dozens finding refuge in nearby shops and stairwells.

“Are we going to run?” Elise asked, looking up at Sheffield.

“No, not yet, the exits may all be blocked. Just lie flat on the ground and don’t make a noise,” Sheffield whispered, standing behind the stage. He waited for a moment while the vans set in silence. Black tinted windshields prevented any possible view into the front seat.

“Okay, let’s move,” he said to Elise, while bending down to help her up.

As she rose to her knees, loud shots of gunfire came from the front entrance, where the two vans had earlier busted through. With her pulse racing, she flattened out again.

Looking back up, Sheffield saw a large crowd come streaming into the entrance of the mall, as more bursts of gunfire rang out from the same direction. It was the same crowd of eager shoppers that were earlier lining up at the doors. The gunfire continued, and even more people stumbled in, panicked and crying, until the entire end of the building was flooded with people. As the encroaching crowd came past the elevator banks, the two front doors of both white vans opened in unison. Four identically dressed men in Army fatigues, black vests, and helmets exited holding automatic rifles. They moved swiftly to take cover behind each van.

“Drop the guns!” Sheffield yelled out.

No response came from the armed men, who leaned against the back doors of the vans, waiting. The mass of people from outside was continually moving toward the stage, driven by the constant firing of rifles outside.

Sheffield looked out amongst the crowd and got glimpses of several other men in Army fatigues now running into the mall behind the panicked crowd, firing rifles into the air. From underneath the stage, Sheffield heard Elise’s voice.

“James? What is going on? Are people being shot?” She kept her body flat on the cool tile.

“It’s hard to see, but I think they’re getting the crowd to come in the building by firing into the air. I can’t tell if anyone has been shot yet,” he whispered.

Elise somehow felt calmer now than at the prospect of giving a speech in front a small crowd of reporters earlier. Through even breaths she looked from beneath the stage and only saw a slit of light shining through from the other side.

After another moment of repeated screams from the crowd, people were corralled around the vans by the armed men. Hundreds of people were forced around the vans, surrounding the front of the stage as if they were ready to see a concert. Children sobbed while their mothers carried them, and others constantly yelled and swore at the gunmen who remained silent, yielding no expression, but watchful of the crowd. Several gunmen on the outside formed a distant barrier around the mass of people on all sides to contain the crowd. They came up around the back of a fountain that was adjacent to the back of the stage, trapping everyone who had hid there, with no place to escape.

Sheffield remained quiet, thinking and waiting, unwilling to make a hasty move. He tried counting the gunmen, and thought it was somewhere around fifteen, but wasn’t sure if he could see all of them around the large crowd that had formed.

Elise turned on her back and looked up at Sheffield. “What do you think they want?”

“I don’t know.”

“Do you see Secretary Gamez?”

“No.” He kept his focus on the vans. He wanted to say what he really thought was going on, but he was afraid that using the word ‘bomb’ would immediately incite panic. “Miss Whitten, I want you to be ready to run exactly when I tell you to. Be ready to get up fast, make sure to take off your high heels.”

“Okay,” she whispered, slipping her shoes off, and rising so that she was crouched beneath the stage on her hands and knees.

“Tranquilo, tranquilo. Nadie va a morir.” One of the four gunmen behind a van calmed the crowd by assuring them that no one was going to die. The other three behind the vans burst into movement and backed away from the back doors of the vans, trying to create space to open them. Once they had moved the crowd away, the gunmen opened the back doors of both vans at the same time, and then backed away with their rifles drawn.

“They opened the back doors of the vans,” Sheffield whispered down to Elise.

“Why? Are they taking something out?”

“No, they just opened them and moved away.”

The entire crowd around the vans silenced, attempting to understand what was happening as the gunmen had distanced themselves from the vans, but maintained hostile stances with their rifles aimed toward the people.

Slowly, but steadily, armed men exited the vans. Because the back of the vans were faced the opposite way, Sheffield couldn’t tell who they were, but he did see numerous men in helmets falling out and into the crowd of people. It looked as if each van carried about five armed men who had filed out.

“Okay, it looks like we have even more armed men, about ten more from the vans,” Sheffield said.

Several screams erupted in the crowd followed by spots of quick movements. The crowd then panicked again with shouting and people trying to climb over one another to get away. As some people broke free of the crowd, they were immediately shot down by the men that had lined up around the outside, discouraging others from trying the same.

“What the hell is going on?” Elise impatiently scooted out from underneath the stage and knelt so that just her eyes could see out over the crowd.

“Stay down! They just shot someone,” Sheffield said, berating her.

Ignoring Sheffield, Elise looked out and saw a man in a helmet as he brought down both his arms clumsily on top of a woman’s head and collapsed into her, bringing her down into the mass of people. The woman let out a long cry into the air, “Me muerde, me muerde!”

“Oh no,” Elise said, standing to her feet. “They’re biting people!”

“…And we know what we have lived for and what we will always live for. As citizens of this great nation, we have the tenacity and heart to know that we can be reborn of our hardships, and restored to our great American heritage. We are the patient hearts of mothers who lost their children. We are the emboldened courage of the countless fathers who died never knowing if their families would ever be safe. We are the innumerable heroes who together saved millions of lives from the greatest calamity that has ever struck this nation. We survived the greatest battle that has ever been fought before and by an enemy that had never been known. Yet to this day, we all continue to feel the absence of every single one of our six million brothers and sisters that we lost during that brief two-day battle. We know them, we love them, and we will forever miss them.

“It is for two reasons that we come here to our beautiful Liberty State Park today. First, we come here for the majestic view of one of our nation’s finest cities, New York City. Although she sleeps for now, she will soon be open to house our widows, employ our children, and rise again as one of the greatest cities on Earth. In exactly one month, New York City will finally be swept of the scourge that once plagued her, and be open again to thrive as the beating pulse of our country.

“The second reason we come here today is to celebrate and commemorate the achievements of one man. It was this man who, during our nation’s eleventh hour, was able to apply his instinct and experience to a situation that no one had ever been faced with before. It was his quick thinking combined with a brilliant scientific mind that was able to put the pieces together, under incredible pressure, to stave off both our enemies at home and abroad. The statue that we dedicate here today is only a humble symbol of the gratitude that we have for him. It is to this one man that our nation is forever indebted, and to whom I am proud to call my Chief of Staff. Ladies and gentleman, Dr. Reginald Stark,” Rambert finished and led the applause.

The large media core that had assembled on the park grass applauded loudly. Stark rose from his chair behind the podium and straightened his white, button-up shirt. Adjusting his glasses, he removed a rolled-up speech snuggled under his armpit, and walked toward the podium.

Stark gazed over the crowd. “Thank you, Mr. President. That introduction was far too generous, but I do appreciate the kind words.” He paused, looked over at Rambert who was now seated behind him, and then turned back toward the crowd, his crumpled notes sprawled on top of the podium. “The events that transpired over two years ago were by far the most devastating our country has ever seen. The disease that overtook us so quickly was unprecedented in both the nature of its origin and the speed at which it infected our people. It is only now that we can truly reflect upon the magnitude of its destruction. The economic impact that the infection had on our country and the world is too overwhelming to compare to any previous recession. We have paid dearly for the greediness of men and the carelessness with which they had for life. It is only now that our country shows signs of recovery, both economically, and psychologically, from the infection that ravaged this nation.

“I would like to thank the state of New Jersey for erecting this beautiful statue of a somewhat weathered man.” Stark paused while the audience gave a low chuckle. “And although I believe I am not deserving of it as a single man, I accept it as a symbol of our perseverance through the millennial plague, and hope that it is a constant reminder to always be wary of the frontier of science, and the untold destruction that can come from untamed technology. Thank you.” The crowd applauded again as Stark took his seat next to Rambert, who patted him on the shoulder, and gave him a smile.

“Good job,” Rambert whispered into his ear. “Was it really that hard?”

“Just shut up,” Stark said and smiled while looking forward at the crowd. “Is this thing over now?”

“Yes, you ungrateful jackass. It’s over.” A swell of music from a local high school band filled the air from the side of the stage. Everyone came to their feet and watched the presidential staff exit and make their way to an extensive motorcade parked along a winding road by the grass.

Rambert and Stark walked side by side as they waved to various journalists and cameras, Stark hating every smile and wave he gave to them. Approaching their limo, Stark looked back across the waters of the Hudson River as lazy sun from the western horizon settled on the dark buildings of Manhattan. The city was dormant with no people to drive buses, push elevator buttons, yell at cabbies, or buy coffee. There was no electricity to push the subways or light up billboards. The city had become a graveyard of economic titans who had once conquered the modern world.
It just survived a terrible disease
, he thought,
it’s not quite out of its coma
. The crowd of secret servicemen walked swiftly behind Rambert and Stark, encouraging them to get into the back of the limo.

Once inside, Stark squirmed out of his jacket, and threw it on the seat beside him. “Who the hell makes a huge bronze statue of a person who is still alive and still in the government? It’s so stupid. Does it have to be so gigantic?” Stark asked.

“Just accept the honor and stop making such a big deal about it. You actually might deserve it.” Rambert took out his phone and started typing.

“It would make a lot more sense if it were a statue of me with a plaque that read ‘Dumb Luck.’ ”

“Just shut up about it already, everyone is getting sick of it. I couldn’t possibly care about your dumb face being on that thing.”

Stark looked at him, wide-eyed for a moment. “Then why in the hell did we just do that whole charade?”

“Your face is the only thing that Americans can even hold onto right now. Everyone is just… losing it. You know exactly what my approval rating is. No one cares what I have to say anymore.”

“Bullshit.”

“That single icon of you is doing a whole lot more than you think.”

“Fine, whatever.” Stark opened his briefcase and shuffled through some papers. “Do you want to talk about what you keep putting off?” He looked over at Rambert.

“What’re you talking about?”

“You know.”

“No, what I’d like to talk about is our sleeper cell, and what we’re going to do about him.”

“Nothing has happened with him and you know it. That’s been a two year waste of time.”

“You don’t know that. It’s been a week since we’ve even gotten a report from Mayberry.”

“Can we talk about my resignation?” Stark changed the subject.

Rambert gave a small snort and looked up at him, eyebrows furrowed. “Yeah? Two years in, our country doing the worst it ever has since the depression, and you just want to be done with it?”

“You know that’s not why. I can be put to better use elsewhere in my lab. I can’t keep coming to work for you in the day, and then go to the lab on my off time, and never get any sleep. I was never,” he let out a long breath, “I was never meant to be in politics. I’m not good at this, and I need to just get out.”

“Can I paint a picture for you real quick?” Rambert slowly took his arms out of the sleeves of his jacket and leaned forward in his seat.

“Not this shit, again. Stop painting pictures for me,” Stark replied.

“This country is at twenty-seven percent unemployment, our debt to GDP ratio is at an all-time high of one hundred and fifty-five percent and our inflation is exploding. Our healthcare costs now occupy somewhere around forty-five percent of our GDP, and now that most of our money has gone into defense, our public debt has ballooned to over twenty-six trillion dollars. Those high altitude nukes were… they were the worst thing that’s ever happened to our economy. We can never do anything like that again.”

“I know, I know. Stop,” Stark said drawing out his voice. “Stop giving me this same speech every week.”

“I’m not saying I would’ve done anything different, but the damage that that magnetic pulse did to the Eastern coast was… we can hardly even estimate it in a dollar amount. The damage is unprecedented.”

“Yes, I’m well aware.”

“Oh, and let me fill you in on our foreign policy: Israel has become completely introverted. I couldn’t possibly tell you what is going on over there between them and all their Middle Eastern enemies. Germany won’t pick up the damn phone because they’re too busy trying to stop the EU infrastructure from crumbling before their eyes. Putin, as always, is putting on a great show of diplomacy, while at the same time trying to ridicule me at every corner. One of our biggest trading partners and now tenuous enemy, China, is sanctioning our asses to death, and has some mystery floating navy that somehow just came out of nowhere.”

“I know, Larry, I know.” Stark looked out past Rambert’s balding hairline, at the trees passing by through the window.

“It’s like all the countries that are supposed to be our friends have become too busy with their domestic issues to even return a call from the president of the United States. We’ve completely lost respect on the global stage because we no longer have any economic interest to other wealthy countries. Oh, and I forgot about the constant threat of terrorists attacks from every known organization right now. I can’t remember the last time we were at code orange or yellow or whatever. I have inherited the worst presidency in the history of our country.” Rambert stopped speaking and stared at Stark.

“And how am I supposed to help with any of this?”

“Just by having an office next to mine.”

“What?”

“You’re a national hero. Do you understand? Your face alone is iconic. Your stupid face alone instills more trust in the American public than anything I can say or do—ever. If I could, I’d make you president right now.”

“Yeah, yeah.”

“Would you just pull your head out of your ass for one minute!” Rambert raised his voice. “Take some responsibility for once. You can’t just shuffle off the face of the Earth because you think you’re some sort of piece of shit. I’m so sick of trying to get you to be a leader.”

Stark’s heartbeat rose; he was startled by the gravity of the conversation that Rambert was trying to start, and had the urge to open the door, and jump from the moving car. He looked at Rambert’s flushed face and realized that he had forgotten that he had good reason for wanting to resign. “Okay, let me start painting you a picture, too.” Rambert blew air through his lips and leaned back in the seat, throwing up his arms, and bringing them to the back of his head.

Stark continued. “Just because there hasn’t been an outbreak in two years doesn’t mean that Virulex has ever been contained. It’s not like this is a static virus either. I’ve been studying this thing ever since the outbreak, and I still don’t understand it. And now that all the infected people have died, I only have the virus in vitro, which behaves completely different than when it’s actually in a person. Oh, and did I mention that I’ve also exhausted my last sample of the virus?”

“What?” Rambert unfurled his angry brow.

“Yeah, the virus is gone now. If we weren’t so damn paranoid, we would’ve kept a little more for research, but the UN just had to flip their shit and demand that we destroy it all. And it’s not like we have any sort of vaccine for the damn thing, either. And then we got that asshole Beckfield still running around somewhere in a white coat thinking that he’s going to cure every disease known to man, when all he’s really going to do is destroy whatever country that he’s currently in. I have no clue what I’m doing in the White House, okay? I can still be whatever figurehead you want while I take over full time in the lab.”

“It’s not like you’re the only person on the planet working on the virus.”

“Yeah, of course, but the labs are limited, and until we can get approval to test in animals, a lot of us are just twiddling our stupid thumbs.”

“Then why wouldn’t you just stay as my chief in the meantime?” Rambert replied, incredulously.

Stark hesitated. “Because I need to devote all my time to the lab, full-time to figure out other applications in which to study the virus.”

“You’re so full of shit.” Rambert paused and ran his hands down his cheeks. “I’m the only president who never wanted to be president. It is a complete fluke that I’m here and what’ve I shown for the last two years? Nothing is working. The virus may not be infecting anyone, but it’s still destroying us. We have to get back to where we were. It doesn’t matter what we have to do. We’re going to restore this country back to what it was, and you’re going to help me.”

Stark knew that seeing Rambert admitting weakness was a rare moment. He remained silent, wondering if it were just a ploy to get Stark to do what he wanted.

Rambert spoke up again, “Reg, just do what you need to do, but I want you to know that I need you in the White House.”

“All right, I won’t make any final decisions for the time being, but you need to hire someone else that can help cover me for administrative things while I’m in the lab. I know we’ve discussed it before, but it would greatly help if we could declassify a lot of this stuff, so I can bring in more outside researchers to help.”

“I know. I’ll bring it up today during our meeting with the Secretary of Defense and Mayberry. We will have a lot to talk about.”

“All right.” The tension in the limo had lessened as the two men continued to look out the windows.