Medora Wars (23 page)

They walked in with their footsteps echoing off the walls. Dave and Michaels fired off a couple of pulses into the darkness and paused to listen. There was a constant sloshing sound with erratic groaning that echoed faintly from the walls beyond them.

"There might not be too many in here," Michaels said as she flipped her light on and walked in toward a large wall full of tubing that ran toward the ceiling.

"Move it, soldiers," Douglas said quietly from behind. "Let's be quick."

Stark sauntered in from behind them as he unlatched his EMP-M9 and flicked its light on. The air was full with the now familiar smell of rotting bodies. "All right, let's just move in deeper, and I might be able to find the main power grid outlet to the city. It's actually pretty easy to recognize once you see it," Stark said.

Their boots moved over the concrete floor that had been showered in glass and charred bits of clothing, with several computer monitors and fire extinguishers scattered amongst motionless bodies.

Dave stepped over a woman dressed in a one-piece utility suit whose head had been severed by a large saw that remained motionless in her former neck.

Stark stepped in front of the small group that has assembled at the door. “Let’s go.” He walked forward as Dave stepped in front.

“Sorry, Dr. Stark, you’ve got to let me lead in front of you. You’re way too important to have stepping first into a building full of the infected. You just shout out where you think we should go,” Dave said.

“No problem, Special Agent...?”

“Tripps. And there’s no ‘Special Agent.’ ”

Stark squinted his eyes at him from behind his gas mask, wondering if his face was familiar to him. “Go ahead, Tripps. See that staircase to our right?” He pointed to a metal staircase that led up to a series of catwalks.

“Yeah,” Dave said, looking up.

“Let’s go see what’s up there.”

The team moved with Michaels and Douglas in the rear as several other squad members hauled in more cables from the Bunny outside. They moved up and around the staircase, attracting unwanted attention from all over the building, as shadows began to stir around them and groans echoed in from hidden hallways. The floor above trailed in one direction for what seem to be miles with cables and pipes running under their feet. Above their heads was dim auxiliary lighting that showed them numerous consoles and workstations.

“Whoa.” Stark put his hand on Dave’s shoulder. “We’re already here.” Stark flipped on his radio to the entire squad. “Everybody, we are at the city’s main power grid input. Please bring all the designated cables up through the first stairwell at our point of entry.” Stark left the group and investigated various panels, still bewildered that no one could read Spanish as he started guessing what the different signs meant while consulting his English-Spanish dictionary in his front pocket.

One by one, Stark instructed the crew to lay down the various cables in different spots along the long runways of catwalks and tiny corridors. Over the next few hours, Stark connected cables from the Bunny to various parts of the plant’s power grids, trying to make sure that he was plugging into the power grid at even distributions across the entire city. He helped Dave wrestle one cable that was seven inches in diameter into a port that fed into an eighth of the city’s entire power supply.

“Dr. Stark, we’ve actually met before.” Dave pulled up his mask and looked at Stark.

“We did?”

“Yeah, two years ago in Richmond, Virginia, at the CDC.”

Stark immediately remembered. “You were the one who saw Lou Beckfield there. Before he… disappeared.”

Dave nodded. “I was also part of the group that found him in Mexico City. I recognized the bastard as soon as I saw him.”

“That was you?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Good work, son.” Stark felt slightly embarrassed at having called him “son” but decided that their age difference made it okay.

“Thanks. What kind of messed up experiments has that asshole been doing anyway? I’m guessing you’ve talked to him?”

“Well, yes, obviously I can’t… I can’t get into any of that…but…”

“No, of course.”

“The man is… he’s sick no doubt, but I think he’s a little misunderstood.” Stark fiddled with a few knobs on the wall.

“Doesn’t excuse what he did, letting the virus get out and not telling anyone or even trying to fix it.”

“It’s a shame though. He really was doing some incredible things in Mexico City.” Stark crouched to adjust a few small levers on a panel.

Dave looked back at Stark as he stood back up. “That man never did anything incredible.”

Stark continued. “But no, of course, nothing he did was excusable at all.” Stark slid his mask back down his face and called out to Douglas, as Dave continued staring at him.

“Captain Douglas, we are ready,” Stark said.

“Roger, I’ll see you back down at the Bunny.” Douglas flickered in his earpiece.

Stark and Dave walked quickly past the dozens of arms of cables and wires that were cramming the small corridors back toward the staircase that led down to the loading bay. Stark replayed his conversation with Dave and wondered about Beckfield, thin and malnourished, in some government prison in Maryland.

They made it out to the twilight sky that had come over them over the hours they had been working in the plant. Douglas yelled over at him as he approached the Bunny. “It’s a good thing you’re ready to get this show on the road, our blast tanks have been hitting the horde with EMPs non-stop for hours. See them there?” He pointed to beyond the parking lot of the plant where waves of the infected fumbled over one another.

“I think we’re all hooked up. I’ll just double check,” Stark said, moving to the Bunny as more squad members gathered around. Stark hoisted himself into the Bunny and sat down on a small stool, bringing up a keyboard and monitor mounted on the wall. He typed in a few keystrokes and carefully read the monitor while the crew stood in silent watching.

“My data is showing good connection to around… eighty percent of the city’s power grid. That is as good as we’re going to get. I’m ready to give it a surge from the Bunny.” He put his hand on a large lever inside, and looked over at Douglas, who nodded. “Are we all ready, Captain?”

“What’s going to happen, sir?” Douglas said with fatigue finally crackling in his strained voice.

“Just keep your eyes on the horde over there.” He pointed out toward the parking lot at the amassing crowds that surrounded them. “We’re going to be waltzing out of this city.”

Stark gripped the large lever and pushed it forward.

Chapter Nineteen: Eau Claire, Wisconsin

“Just… take a closer look at him.” The soft voice on the phone said before the line went dead.

Rambert was alone in a room furnished with only a single leather armchair. He stared intently at his cell phone in his open palm. The glossy plastic burned into his mind as he closed his eyes. He thought that the loneliness in the man’s voice was too sincere to be feigned.
The man was too saddened to be going through so much trouble to just be playing a game with me
, Rambert thought.

Clearing his mind of the lonely man whose voice still lingered in his ear, Rambert felt sudden shame. Earlier he had erupted at the people of the most powerful command post in the world when he found out that two entire naval fleets were attacked with the nanovirus. Not one person among them had any idea who had been flying the American helicopters. “It sure as shit wasn’t the Chinese!” He could still hear his own words echoing in his thoughts. “They’re rotting in the water along with the thousands of sailors that we just sent to their deaths!” No one looked at him, not because they were frightened but because they didn’t believe it mattered any more.

He thought about Julius Caesar. Caesar at least still had the hope of his empire living on forever when he died. Yes he was assassinated, but at least the people who killed him still loved Rome; they killed him because they wanted Rome to succeed.
My country, on the other hand, simply rots from the inside. I would be happy, overjoyed even, if someone were trying to assassinate me. At least I would know that someone out there cared about something. All I have now are men and women who simply clear their throats when I ask them what we do next. All I have are scared yes-men on one end and the Sirr on the other.

He had thought the small break of sitting in his leather chair would calm his mind but the one phone call threw everything he had known into doubt. The phone call now stretched his mind to the limits of what he thought was possible; of what he thought one man was capable. Before the phone call he was angry with everyone and kicking himself for acting like a child in front of his staff. Now, he was constantly trying to bring his mind to a blank chalkboard to be able to step back and think about what to do next. Fear sprung up in his chest when the phone rang again.

“Yeah?” Rambert said as his heart pumped.

“Mr. President?” Mayberry asked cautiously. “We’ve just received a recording from The Sirr.”

“Well… go get some popcorn,” Rambert said slowly, controlling his breathing.

“What?”

“Because we’re going to watch the recording. It was a joke.”

“Right.”

“Let me ask you something,” Rambert said.

“What?”

“Would someone ever be able to just… call me?”

“What do you mean?”

“Is it possible for a person somewhere to just be able to call my personal cell phone who normally would have no access?”

“You as in ‘the President’?”

“Yes.”

“Who talked to you?”

“No, no one. I’m just curious.”

Mayberry paused. “Let’s just say it would require great skill and resources for someone to be able to just call the President of the United States out of the blue.”

“Okay. Well, shall we watch the recording?” Rambert asked. He burst from his tiny room and into the massive auditorium of CIA staff and dozens of rows of intelligence gathering computer systems. His cabinet followed him to a TV mounted in a conference room.

Mayberry was already waiting for them at the conference table, with the image of a darkened figure displayed on the TV. “We just verified a few minutes ago. We believe it is from the brotherhood of the Sirr and that the video originated from somewhere in Maryland.”

“You’re sure it was Maryland?” Rambert asked as he sat down.

“Ninety percent sure, yes.”

“Does this mean at all that the Sirr is in Maryland?”

“We can’t really infer that the Sirr was in Maryland just because that is where the footage was transmitted from. It’s possible, but we can’t know.”

Rambert sat down at the table as the room filled with his staff in silence. “Play it.”

Mayberry hit a keyboard next to him, the video came to life with a dark figure crossing his legs, and clearing his throat through a voice modulator.

“I am the Sirr,” he stated simply with a deep, modified voice, and paused for a full ten seconds. “We officially take responsibility for every outbreak of the Virulex virus that has occurred in Seoul, Jerusalem, Mexico City, Berlin, Washington D.C., and London. We attempted to infect the President of the United States from a drone that we stole from the Iranian government. We destroyed the United States, Chinese and Venezuelan navies. We have littered your skies with the bodies of your dead. We have orchestrated the invasion of South Korea by its Northern enemy. Iran will take Israel because of the brotherhood of the Sirr. Russia will invade Western Europe because of the death and destruction that we have wrought. There must be suffering before we are all cleansed by death. We do not seek new world order, but the end of this world entirely. You do not know now but you will come to understand that our work has been a Godly work, and you will love us once we become united.” The short video cut out as the dark figured uncrossed his legs.

The entire room remained silent until Rambert spoke, “Washington D.C and London? Was he just talking about the predator and plane attacks?”

“We don’t know anything about an outbreak in D.C or London.”

“Well, what the hell?”

“Maybe they recorded this a while ago but never actually attempted to attack D.C. or London… or maybe someone foiled them somehow. It doesn’t matter anyway, we have an ATLAS-M in D.C., and London has got one too,” Mayberry said, dismissively.

“How well did the ATLAS-M even work in Jerusalem, Chuck? We’re getting totally conflicting reports. Our last communication with them was that the pulse had knocked down the infected but only within a couple miles radius, and the entire city is still in complete chaos. We can’t just kick up our heels and think we’re safe just because we paid billions of dollars for a gigantic electromagnetic generator. That is so idiotic.” Rambert took a deep breath. “Maybe they’re just trying to trick us.”

“Well, let’s not jump to conclusions, Mr. President. It can’t all be tricks.”

Rambert raised his nose and looked down at Mayberry. “It’s all been a trick.”

“Let’s not be led by fear.” Mayberry looked back at him intently.

“Everyone get out,” Rambert demanded as his staff scurried around him and left the room leaving him alone with Mayberry.

“Don’t talk to me like that in front of my staff,” Rambert said.

“What’re you, a king? What the hell?” Mayberry stood.

“You have gotten us nowhere.” Rambert pursed his lips and breathed deeply through his nostrils.

“I could say the same to you, Mr. President.” Mayberry stared back at him.

Rambert’s mind was sick with panic as he looked at Mayberry, who calmly looked back at him. “What’s going on in Juárez?” Rambert asked.

“We don’t know yet.”

“Tell me when you do.”

“Do you want to hear about our nuclear warheads?”

“Tell me what you know.”

“They’re safe. They’re all safe and moved out.”

“I’m guessing that once again you have no useful information from your agent?”

“No. I haven’t heard from him in a long time.”

“He’s dead.”

“Maybe... but if they did find out he was an agent, they probably would’ve broadcasted his death by now.”

“He didn’t happen to tell you anything about the attack on the Navy? Like who the hell we might have in our government who is a spy of the Sirr?” Rambert sunk his head to the table, which dropped with a slight thud.

“Well, you know what he has… implied about Dr. Stark.”

“Yeah… and now we have that video that was broadcasted from Maryland. That’s where Stark was before he left to Mexico.”

“Right. What’re you thinking about him? Do we trust him still?” Mayberry asked.

“Do you think the only reason I sent him to Juárez was to try that half-baked idea?”

“What do you mean?”

“If Stark is involved, he’s not doing shit from the inside of that infected tornado.”

“Oh, I get it.”

“I was thinking about Caesar,” Rambert’s voice was muffled as he sat his forehead on the tabletop.

“And?”

“He had one hell of a country to command.”

“Caesar was a piece of shit,” Mayberry said.

Rambert lifted his head back up. “What do you mean?”

“He was a ruthless dictator and warmonger who used his legions of armies to enslave countless civilizations and to hold his own supposed democratic state captive. He was a piece of shit.” Mayberry popped a mint in his mouth from his jacket pocket and crunched down on it. “The assassination of Caesar was the best thing to happen to Rome.”

“Yeah, maybe.”

“The same thing has been happening up until this very day.”

“What are you talking about now?”

“The Sirr said it himself. North Korea is going to invade the South. Iran is already in Israel, and Russia will bust into Europe any day, probably with China on their coat tails.”

“And?”

“But what the Sirr didn’t say is that London and France will their drop nuclear weapons either on Russia as a retaliation or on themselves as a last ditch effort if their own countries become overwhelmed by the outbreak. China’s not going to like North Korea’s aggression and probably wipe them off the map, and we all know that Israel will not stand for one second that Iranian troops will set foot in the Holy City.”

“Sounds like you’ve thought this all through.”

“As if you’re not already thinking all this same stuff, sir. The Sirr isn’t trying to take over the world. He’s trying to bring back mutually assured destruction. It’s what he wants, and he’s just using the virus as a catalyst.”

“It really doesn’t matter why he’s doing what he’s doing.”

“If we understand the man, we can understand how to stop him.”

“Do you think you understand the Sirr?”

“Not really, I’m just guessing.” Mayberry crunched on another mint.

“Chuck…” Rambert let out a long breath and lifted his head from the table. He looked at Mayberry’s face, which had taken on a sandpaper texture in his older age. Mayberry looked back at him with sympathetic eyes. “I’m sorry I snapped at you.”

“Mr. President, it’s nothing. We’re both under a lot of stress,” Mayberry responded promptly.

“I know, I know. I just feel like… there’s someone here.” Rambert motioned his hands to the dozens of people outside their room.

Mayberry raised his ears. “Here?”

“The Sirr knows too much. We are constantly one step behind, and I’m just terrified that the brotherhood will find out where we have our warheads.”

“They’re not going to find out. We have them, many stories underneath an old power plant that hasn’t been used in thirty years. We’re using minimal staff there to minimize potential intelligence leak.”

“Only a few people know the warhead detonation codes.”

“Absolutely.”

“But I’m afraid it’s too few…”

“What do you mean?”

“I don’t want myself to be overly paranoid. I haven’t given the codes to enough people. If something happens to all the people that know the codes, it would be disastrous. We wouldn’t be able to… completely annihilate the horde at the El Paso border if and when we need to.”

“I understand.”

“I’m going to give you the detonation code.”

“Code? Singular?”

“Yes, I consolidated all the codes into one, so that it works for every single warhead. I know that when we finally need to use them, we’ll need to do it fast, and I don’t want a technical error getting in the way.”

“Larry, that is extremely risky.”

“I know, but I learned from experience that being able to drop nuclear weapons at instant notice is full of snags. I was barely able to detonate the two in the atmosphere above D.C. and New York at all. Consolidating the codes will completely streamline the process. It had to be done.”

“Why should I know the code? I don’t necessarily want this responsibility.”

“Well, you’re getting it. I need you right now. There aren’t many people left that I can give the code to.”

“How many other people know the code?”

“Eight. And it’s confidential who they are from everyone but myself.”

Mayberry stood across the table from Rambert, waiting. “I don’t know…”

“I’m not giving you the choice. It is thirteen characters long and is only communicated verbally. Never has the code been written or printed, and you are forbidden to do the same. Do you understand?”

“Yes, yes, I understand.”

“Okay, sit down, and clear your mind. You’re going to need to repeat it back to me ten times from memory.”