Sick (17 page)

Ash could sense the depth of the room even before Pax flipped on the lights and revealed a space that moved out from the door for at least fifty yards. Not too far in was a row of narrow dividers, and tracks along the ceiling that ran the length of the room. A classic indoor firing range.

Pax set the boxes of bullets on the shelf of the middle divider, then took the guns back. “As you might have noticed, we’ve got three compacts here, all nine millimeter like your old M9.” He set two of the guns down, then held up the third. “This one’s a Smith & Wesson M&P Compact. Twelve rounds plus one in the chamber. Trigger pull at six and a half pounds.” He put it down, and picked up the next one. “Glock 19. Fifteen rounds standard. Five and a half pounds on the trigger pull.” He replaced it with the last. “And this one’s the SIG SAUER P229. It holds thirteen rounds. Single-action trigger pull at four-point-four pounds. So, which would you like to try first?”

Ash decided to take them in order, starting with the Smith & Wesson. Although he had no problem controlling the kick, he could feel the first few shots all the way up his arms and into his head. Once he got going, though, the pain became more background noise than anything else.

Next he went to the Glock, then the SIG. After he took the last shot, Pax said, “So?”

Ash looked at the gun in his hand. “I like the feel of this one.”

“Good choice. One of my favorites. Of course, I’m partial to all three of them, so you couldn’t go wrong whichever way you went. You want to shoot some more?”

“Yes.” Ash popped the mag out and handed it to Pax. “I’d like to tighten up my groupings.”

With Pax’s help, by the time Ash had polished off the last round in the second box of ammo, his groupings at fifty feet could be covered by a dollar bill.

“It’s a good start,” Pax said.

“Get another box.”

Pax looked at him, surprised. “Don’t want to take a break?”

Ash released the mag into his hand. “No.”

As he plowed through the third box of bullets, he pictured the face of Dr. Karp on the target.

This time, his groupings were much better.

24

The members of the media who’d been covering the roadblock at Sage Springs were flown to Fort Irwin Army base outside Barstow, California. Technically, they were still in the quarantine zone, but so far there had been no known cases in Barstow or on the base.

There, Tamara was able to learn that contingents of soldiers had been sent east on I-40 and northeast on I-15 to turn back motorists coming in from Arizona and Las Vegas. She’d also had an interesting, off-the-record conversation with one soldier who’d said the roadblocks had already dealt with several irate drivers insisting that they didn’t have time to drive all the way to the I-10 to get to L.A. so they should be let through. Many promised to “keep their windows rolled up” and “not make any stops,” while a couple of people had even gotten out of their cars and tried to physically intimidate the highway patrol officers who were handling most of the problems. Needless to say, those individuals had been arrested and taken east to a jail just on the other side of the Nevada border.

Even having learned all that, Tamara was frustrated. The Army was not allowing them to go anywhere. It was like the media were prisoners on the base, stuck with whatever news the Army decided to give them.

To add to her annoyance, her brother still hadn’t gotten back to her. He’d given her that great lead then
poof
—disappeared. She’d just tried to call him again, but when she got his voice mail once more, she’d hung up and called her parents.

“Tammy, please tell me everything’s fine,” her mother said. The last time Tamara could call them had been the previous day right after the news broke. “We’ve been glued to the TV every second we’ve been awake. They keep showing that part where you and your friends are running to the helicopters. I wish they’d stop that. It nearly gives me a heart attack every time.”

“Mom, just turn it off when it comes on,” Tamara said. “Or just switch to another channel.”

“I couldn’t do that. Your ratings.”

Tamara’s mom had it in her mind that every single household was monitored and counted in a network’s ratings. Even if that were true, PCN’s ratings wouldn’t have suffered from the temporary loss of one viewer. Especially not now, when Tamara was sure that if a TV was on somewhere, it was tuned to one of the news channels.

“Mom, have you heard from Gavin?”

“No, dear. But you know your brother. He gets tunnel vision. Probably working on a project.”

Tamara frowned. He did get tunnel vision at times, but he’d never let her down like this before. “Okay. Thanks. That’s all I wanted to know.”

“Tammy?” her dad said. He’d obviously been listening in on the other line. “Have you talked to your boss? They need to get you out of there. You’re right in the middle of everything.”

“I’m a news correspondent, Dad. I’m
always
in the middle of things. Besides, everything’s fine here. The closest outbreak is at least fifty miles away.”

“But you never know, sweetie. The sooner you get out of there, the better your mother and I are going to feel.”

“Don’t worry so much. I’ll be fine.” She noticed Joe trying to wave her over to where the majority of the media was hanging out. “Look, I’ve got to go. I love you.”

“We love you, too,” her mother said.

“Very much,” her dad added.

“Okay. Bye.”

She hung up, then hurried over to her producer. “What’s up?”

“Just got off the phone with Irene,” he whispered. Irene was their boss in New York. “She says they’ve been negotiating with the Army to get us taken out to the I-15 roadblock.”

“That’s great!”

“What’s great?” Peter Chavez, a reporter with one of the wire services, turned and asked.

“Uh, nothing, Peter,” Joe said, then smiled. “Just…telling Tammy about what I’m getting my wife for her birthday.”

Peter didn’t look convinced. “Really?”

“Yeah,” Tamara said, trying to cover her mistake. “He’s taking her to Paris. Isn’t that cool?”

Peter frowned. “Guess salaries are nicer over there at Generic Cable News.”

“I guess they are,” Joe replied. He then grabbed Tamara’s arm and moved her away from the crowd. “What an ass.”

“When will we know about going to the roadblock?” she whispered.

“I’m not sure. Soon, I hope.”

Not too far away, a TV had been set up under a canopy so that people with nothing to do could watch. The screen suddenly filled with some jumpy, low-quality video, catching Tamara’s eye.

“What’s that?” she asked.

Joe looked over and shook his head. “I don’t know.”

Quickly they both made their way to the back of the group watching the television.

“Bobby,” Tamara said, noticing her cameraman a couple people ahead of her.

When he turned, she motioned for him to join them in the back.

As soon as he moved in beside her, she asked, “What
is
that?”

“Somebody just uploaded it to the Internet,” he said. “Some sort of skirmish at a roadblock just east of Tehachapi.”

Tehachapi was west of the town of Mojave, which was in the quarantine zone, and east of Bakersfield, which was not.

The footage looked like it had been shot on a camera phone. There were several dozen people pushing and shoving. Most were civilians, but there were a few people in uniforms, too.

This went on for several seconds, then a face flashed across the screen that caused Tamara to jerk back, startled.

It was Gavin, or someone who sure looked a hell of a lot like him. She pushed her way through the crowd so she could get closer to the screen.

Whoever was holding the camera seemed to be moving slightly away from the crowd. She could see the whole mob now, pushing and shoving at each other. She tried to find the guy who looked like Gavin, but didn’t see him.

A voice cut over the video, distorted by the poor quality of the camera’s microphone.

“Most of these guys…I think have family…in the…zone.” The speaker’s voice was punctuated by deep breaths. “They want to get in…but…the soldiers are…trying to push them…back. It looks like some…people are getting through.”

The shot zoomed in on a small group that was trying to go around the end of the roadblock while the soldiers were busy with the larger crowd. Suddenly several members of the big group saw what was happening and took off after the others, no doubt hoping that they, too, could get through. The trickle became a stream, then a river.

At the edge of the pack, two soldiers went down. As soon as their colleagues saw this, they opened fire.

“Oh, my God!” someone standing near Tamara yelled out as civilians started falling to the ground.

But Tamara couldn’t even speak. She had seen Gavin again. He was wearing one of the shirts she’d given him for Christmas. And when the chaos was at its height, it looked very much like a bullet had hit him, too. Only unlike the others, he hadn’t fallen away from the roadblock, but toward it, like he’d been shot from the other direction. And then there was the look on his face a moment before he went down, a look of disorientation and confusion.

Like he had no idea what he was doing there in the first place.

The pressure in her head built until she could almost take it no more. How she didn’t scream, she had no idea.

• • •

There was another conference call at noon. Since this one had been arranged ahead of time, they were connected via video chat. Though both Dr. Karp and Major Ross were at the Marin County location, each was in his own office. Shell was in a hotel room somewhere near the quarantine zone, and the Director of Preparation was at Bluebird. Of course the DOP’s feed was blacked out. The project’s number one guideline was that the members of the Bluebird Directorate were to remain anonymous.

“Dr. Karp, do you have the latest statistics on the outbreak?” the DOP asked.

The doctor leaned forward a few inches. “I talked to our source at the CDC five minutes ago, so the numbers I’m about to give you are as up to date as possible. Dead—three hundred and twenty-one. Currently infected—five hundred and seventeen. This information, of course, has not been released to the public yet. But I doubt they will be getting any—”

“That’s enough for the moment,” the DOP said, cutting him off. “Mr. Shell, your update, please.”

“Yes, sir,” Shell said, adjusting himself in his chair. “On the quarantine front, state and military officials have a pretty good handle on containment for the majority of the population. Fortunately, the outbreak occurred in an open and underpopulated area.”

“It was not
fortunate
, Mr. Shell,” Dr. Karp broke in. “It was by design. Why do you think we chose Barker Flats in the first place?”

“Thank you, doctor,” the DOP said. “Mr. Shell, please continue.”

Shell took a loud, annoyed breath, then said, “As you know, our strategy is one of plugging the holes the official response can’t handle. With your help, Director, I have my main team using Fort Irwin in Barstow as its base. Thank you for making that happen.” He paused, but the DOP said nothing. “I, uh, also have a team set up at a private airfield north of Victorville. Using thermal satellite imagery, we have been able to track in real time individuals who’ve tried to get out of the zone over the open desert. So far there have been twenty-eight attempts, and my people have stopped all of them.” There was no need for him to say what stopping meant. They all knew he was tasked with removing problems, not jailing them.

“Do you have any idea how many of those were actually infected?”

“Obviously, we wouldn’t be able to know that without proper tests, but I can say with confidence that six showed outward signs of KV-27a infection. My teams continue to monitor the intel, and are ready to move on any new escape attempts at a moment’s notice.”

“It’s critical that no one gets out,” the DOP said.

“Yes, sir. Of course.”

“Please continue.”

“Yes, sir. There was the matter of the reporter’s brother.”

“Yes. Gavin Costello. A mistake to pick him up in the first place.”

Shell looked uncomfortable. “Yes, sir. Things were a little fluid at that point, and there was no telling what he might dig up for his sister.”

“Mr. Shell, I’m not fond of glossing over mistakes. There was nothing for him to dig up that would have harmed us. It was a mistake from the beginning.”

“Yes, sir.”

Dr. Karp kept his expression neutral, but inside he was laughing as Shell squirmed.

“Continue your report.”

“Concerning Gavin Costello. Unfortunately, we couldn’t just let him go, especially given his sister’s high-profile job. Elimination was the only answer. We started spreading a rumor among people who were stranded in the Bakersfield area that the roadblock east of Tehachapi was going to be opened. When they arrived and found that it was still closed and would remain so, with the prodding of some of my men scattered within the group, they rioted. As soon as the military opened fire, one of my men eliminated Mr. Costello. When he is finally identified, his presence can easily be explained as concern for his sister.”