The Beginning of the End (Book 2): Toward the Brink II (2 page)

“By all means, General, go ahead.” The president waved for General Stodge to take the lectern.

“The problem as I see it is that we used National Guardsmen and cops from Idaho in the beginning, then sent troops from the nearby states. It would be safe to assume these people have much the same diet as those in Idaho, and, therefore, became infected. As Director Hadlee stated, the incubation period is at least six months, and the troops on their way to Idaho have that time … at least. By then, we could have our counteragent.”

“Excuse me for saying so, but you don’t seem all that confident, General.” Tom confronted him.

“I’m not a doctor nor a scientist, Mr. Transky. I know nothing of medicines or the time it takes to produce them. I do know this … I want to put a halt to this outbreak, but I fear Idaho, and the surrounding states, are lost, and …”

“‘Are lost’? General, you make it sound like a military campaign!” Tom didn’t care for soldiers, especially generals.

“Damn it, son, it is a military campaign. You lose that many people in such a short time, it’s a rout. We have to stop it in its tracks right here and now!” Stodge slammed his fist into the lectern.

The general’s actions made it quite clear to everyone in the room where his allegiance lay on this matter.

“And how do we do that, General?” Bobbie Ziegler, from the NSA, asked.

General Stodge took a breath, looked over at Hadlee, and when he received a nod of approval, continued.

“We’ll put the unaffected troops in a net around the no-go areas as we are doing now … block every road, every trail. No one goes in, no one comes out. Once we are certain the area is sealed, we launch tactical missiles from nearby bases. Warren AFB in Wyoming is the contender at this point. It’s the only way we can be sure of destroying the contamination before it spreads across the whole of the country.”

The Situation Room was left stunned. A pin would have been heard if it had fallen onto the carpeted floor. The president rose at the other end of the table, his mouth agape, and he stared at the general.

“My God, you’re fucking serious!”

“Yes, Mr. President. I am.”

“There, down there. That’s it!” Allan pointed. He saw the turn for a mere second in the dim running lights of their van, but he was sure it was the right one.

“Okay, hang on.” Cindy slowed to make a U-turn on the narrow road.

“Give me one of those spotlights we brought from the store,” Allan called toward the back of the van.

“Probably not a good idea at this stage,” the Tall Man suggested. “We don’t want to attract any more attention to ourselves than necessary.”

“I have to agree,” Mulhaven added. “Just do your best, Allan.”

Allan brought his window down and looked into the dark of night. He couldn’t see any lights from the road or any farmhouses to indicate life of any form. He wondered if, out there, something stared back at him … a red-eyed, green-frothing foamer that looked upon Allan as a source of food. He pushed the thought out of his mind and took in the night air.

“Mmm, sure smells like the country, don’t you think?” he said to Cindy. “The blue spruce trees smell so fresh.”

“I don’t know what a blue spruce is, but it does smell crisp,” Cindy agreed.

“It’s a conifer, a type of pine. They’re quite popular,” Mulhaven informed her.

“There’s the driveway!” Allan couldn’t hide his excitement. He’d had enough of the darkened road.

A large sign to one side of the picket fence read, “Welcome All” but the trail to the farmhouse looked darker than the road to hell.

Cindy came to a stop outside the gates, which had been left ajar. If there was one rule on a farm, it was “close the gate.”

“This doesn’t look right,” Mulhaven cautioned.

“How far up ahead is the farmhouse, Allan?” Elliot asked. The company of the Tall Man eased his trepidation.

“About half a mile, I think … not more.”

“Okay, we best make sure we’re fully loaded before we move on,” Mulhaven said.

“No lights,” the Tall Man added. “Reload in the dark. If you can’t, pass your weapon to me, carefully.”

Inside the van, the metallic clang of bolts and magazines rang out as shotguns, pistols, and rifles were checked and loaded.

“This entrance doesn’t allow for a quick turnaround should we need one,” Mulhaven said as he looked up at the western red cedar trees that adorned both sides of the track. “Cindy, I don’t doubt your ability to drive, but under pressure it’s a different ballgame … so I’ll take the wheel, okay?”

The Tall Man called from the back of the van. “How about you let me drive, Riley? I’d love to get my damn long legs out of this position for a while.”

“Okay, you drive. It’s fine by me, but let’s get it done.”

Before Cindy had her feet on the ground, the Tall Man was next to her. In the dark, they exchanged a brief look. The Tall Man couldn’t see her pain, but he felt it. She was strong and took comfort from having her friends around her. She wouldn’t get over it—none of them would—but he had confidence in her.

“Get in the van, Cindy,” Mulhaven barked. “We haven’t got all night!”

The Tall Man jumped into the driver’s seat, grateful for the stretch. He was determined that his new friends would survive, no matter what it took. No matter what.

“Are you happy to stay up front with me, Allan?”

“Sure I am, Chuck.” Allan remembered.

“Okay, then let’s go and hope these friends of yours are still human.” The Tall Man slipped the van into drive and headed toward the farmhouse and what awaited them.

“I don’t understand any of this!” The president stood at the end of the table. His hands gripped the edge of it, his eyes stared straight ahead, and his lips curled inward. He was pissed. “Since the start of this crisis I’ve been given nothing but contradictions. First I’m told we have less than three weeks before the contagion spreads across the country, infecting every man, woman, and child. Now, all of a sudden, I’m told we can institute an emergency response to develop an agent to halt the expansion of the disease, even find a cure. Then in the same breath, I’m told we have to nuke our own country. Is this the White House or the Mad Hatter’s tea party?”

The president was not about to mince words any longer. Richard Holmes also appeared disturbed by this latest development. More surprises in a day of full of them.

“Mr. President, while the intensity of the situation has been played down in the mainstream news services around the world, some overseas news agencies have turned to the Internet for their information. These countries have a more liberal approach to the dissemination of news than we do. They’re seeing the full picture for the first time. Mr. President, it will only be a matter of time before a worldwide trade embargo, and a freeze on all US assets, is put in place,” Secretary of State Terry Branden pleaded.

“We cannot have that, not at all!” Stodge declared.

“Sir, we need to put a perimeter around the affected areas. We would have to make certain no one enters before we went ahead. We have a limited time to execute this plan, three weeks tops, if we want to prevent any further advance of the disease. Contact with the infected should be restricted and work on a preventative program must begin at once.” Hadlee’s confidence had receded.

The president eyed everyone in the room. He could no longer count on any of them—save for Tom Transky—and with his executive decisions wrested from his control, he realized it was a waste of time to argue the point. The decision had been made.

“Sir, in light of this new information, can I suggest we take a short recess to absorb it all?” The voice of calm belonged to Richard Holmes, the man who had informed the president of a planned evacuation of the brightest—and wealthiest—individuals in the United States before the crisis worsened. The president was unsure on which side Holmes stood, and was curious if this development had altered his plans. He decided it could be worthwhile to play this out.

“Yes, that’s a good idea, Mr. Holmes. We can all use some fresh air,” the president said.

“Sir, we don’t have time for this. Every second …”

“Ten minutes, Hadlee. Ten fucking minutes!” The president thrust his arm forward like a sword with every syllable before he walked to the exit. Everyone in the room stood. No one questioned the president … not in the Situation Room.

Everyone filed out after the head of the country. To most, he still was. They would make their way outside for some fresh air, coffee, or a bite to eat. It was the early hours of the morning on the East Coast, and most of those who had attended the meeting hadn’t eaten for some time, though no one had much of an appetite.

“As they say, Mr. President … a penny for your thoughts.” Tom moved into the seat next to the president.

“I don’t think you and I are the only ones caught unawares.” The president nodded in the direction of Richard Holmes. “There is a sight to behold, Tom, an anxious Richard Holmes. Who would have thought?”

The Tall Man edged the van closer to the front of the farmhouse. It was dark and quiet, but that was common at this hour in the country. The outline of a tractor and an old truck could be seen near the house.

“Hold it here, Chuck,” Mulhaven whispered, “and keep the engine running.”

“You got it.”

“Let me call Roger.” Allan grabbed the door handle as a large hand fell on his shoulder.

“Best to stay in the van, Allan…. Stay in the van.” The Tall Man tried to make it sound like advice and not an order.

“Are we going to sit here until the sun rises?”

“Take it easy, Allan. If there’s anyone inside, they know we’re here.” Elliot comforted his high school buddy. He found that concerning himself with others eased his own stress.

Almost on cue, several powerful spotlights from atop the veranda activated. The area was bathed in a brilliant light.

“No sudden moves, okay?” Mulhaven hissed in the dark.

“You in the van … come on out and state your business.” A loudspeaker cackled from inside the house. “And let’s make it slow.”

“At least we know they’re alive,” the Tall Man said.

“But who are they, exactly?”

“That’s the million dollar question, Elliot, and there’s only one way to find out.”

Elliot knew that meant the Tall Man wasn’t about to knock and ask.

“I said come out, and I mean now!”

“Okay, there is a touch of desperation in his voice, I suggest we do as he asks. If they wanted to fire on us, they would’ve done so by now. And leave your weapons in the van,” Mulhaven, the voice of reason, recommended.

“You want us to go out there unarmed?” Since she had started running from the foamers, Cindy had found comfort when her sidearm was strapped on. Her love for Elliot and the strength of the Tall Man helped.

“It will be better if we do. Show some trust,” Mulhaven added. “I just hope they don’t panic when they see the size of Chuck.”

As each stepped out of the car, they raised their arms. The glare from the spotlights was so strong they were unable to see anything. The sound of a screen door opening and closing told them they were no longer alone.

“Allan Pearce … Is that you?” The voice was different—no longer funneled through a loudspeaker.

“Roger, its Roger! I know his voice,” Allan told the others.

“Yeah, of course it’s me. Who’s with you, Allan?”

“You won’t believe who I have.”

“It’s all right, kill the spots,” Roger yelled back toward the house. Less than a second later the spotlights were extinguished and replaced by regular outdoor lights of the type used on most patios. Roger Grigsby smiled as he walked toward Allan and eased his grip on the SPAS-12 shotgun.

“Damn, Roger, look at you!” Elliot couldn’t hold his excitement once the tense moment had passed. Roger had lost weight, at least thirty pounds, had cut his hair way above his ears, and sported a healthy tan. His chubby baby cheeks, however, remained unchanged.

“Elliot? Elliot Goodwin? Well, look at you, boy. You grew up!” Roger chided Elliot then indulged in a little roughhouse play before he realized there was a woman among the group.

“Cindy? Is that really you?” he exclaimed, his voice full of surprise.

“Yes, you big dummy, it is!” she said then jumped forward and hugged Roger, whom she regarded as a big teddy bear.

“I hate to interrupt this joyful reunion, but there are other important matters at hand.” Mulhaven stepped forward, practical once more.

“Oh, Riley, lighten up. We haven’t seen each other for a while,” Cindy said.

“You’ll have plenty of time for that later on, girlie,” Mulhaven shot back.

“Wow, you brought Morgan Freeman with you.” Even in the dark there was no mistaking the resemblance.

A stifled cough emerged from the Tall Man, who covered his mouth and turned away. He bit his bottom lip to prevent any laughter from escaping.

“What’s wrong, Elliot? Did I say something wrong?”

“I’ll tell you later, Rog. Who have we got inside?”

“It’s my uncle and aunt. They built this place from scratch, you know. Business was good until … Well, I guess you know, otherwise you wouldn’t be here with the shit-scared looks, right?”

“Yeah, Roger…. That’s right.”

“Let’s go meet your aunt and uncle, young man. There’s a lot to discuss and little time to do it in,” announced the Tall Man, who had come up from Roger’s side.

“Damn, you picked up Wilt Chamberlain as well!”

Elliot smiled and shook his head. Roger hadn’t lost his sense of humor, an important quality to keep in these times, much more than the SPAS-12 he carried. Elliot and Roger caught up with the Tall Man while Allan, Mulhaven, and Cindy followed.

During the recess, Holmes made his way unnoticed through the grounds of the West Wing. He called Milton Etheridge as soon as he was certain he wasn’t under scrutiny, but there would never be any guarantees of that at the White House. He used an encrypted satellite phone, as always, alleviating his concern a great deal.

“Mr. Etheridge, I apologize for the late hour, but there’s been a development which you need to be aware of.”