Extermination Day (12 page)

“I’d like to put my name in the hat,” he said. “My father was a senator, and I’m in relatively good health. I don’t have any scientific expertise and I know next to nothing about the project, but I always had a good relationship with my father. He’ll listen to me, even a me twenty years older than the me living in his house. We just need to decide if it’s more important to send someone back who knows about the project or someone with a political connection.”

Chen looked down his nose at Jeff. “As much as I’d like to put the fate of the world in your hands, Congressman, you may be needed here.” The sarcasm was dripping from Chen’s words. “
Neither President Paulson nor the military officers stationed at NORAD know exactly how many survivors there are out there. This means that you are now one of the few elected leaders left in the U.S.”

“We don’t know that yet, Doctor.” But Jeff knew that they had to consider the possibility. With global
chaos, they had no idea what was going on.

“No, we don’t, but if that’s the case,” Chen continued, “then you should stay here in this timeline to help lead what’s left of the military and civilian government.”

Jeff’s heart started pounding at the thought that he might be the de facto President of the United States right now. It was something he’d dreamed about since he first went into politics. The circumstances weren’t how he’d envisioned it happening, but he would take it nonetheless. Yet his mind was thinking a step or two ahead—if he stayed here, he’d be left leading a fragile government and directing a war with a woefully feeble, if not annihilated, military. And he’d have to do it from an underground cave.

No, Jeff would take his chances in the past.

“Doctor, although I have some great leadership qualities, I have no military background and no experience leading defenses or assaults.” Jeff thought the best approach here would be contrived humility. He was a good actor and a good liar. “I’ve only been a congressman for just over a year, and before that I was a defense attorney in Virginia Beach. I may talk a good game, but as far as leading military forces, I’m not the guy. Now, don’t get me wrong, I don’t want to run from this fight, but I think I could have the greatest impact in the past.”

Chen sneered at him, apparently thinking that he was shirking his duties. “Very well, then,” he said. “Let me think about it. Why don’t you head to the medical lab and get your physical now. If I’m going to consider this, I want to make sure you’re in the best of health. In the meantime I’ll scan through these files to see if there are other potential candidates I may have missed the first go round. Other comments or questions?”

Before anyone could speak, an alarm started to sound, loud and shrill throughout the room. Chen’s eyes widened.

“That’s the breach alarm. Someone from the base is trying to get to the surface. They could let the virus in and contaminate us all! We have to stop them!”

6:20 am EST, January 16, 2038

Greenbrier
Resort

President Paulson woke to an annoying
buzz
. He was lying down, but he could see a readout on the display in front of him that showed his vital signs. A stopwatch displaying his time in the quarantine chamber was slowly ticking down from the sixty minutes needed to determine viral infection—ten, nine, eight, seven . . .

At zero, the chamber beeped and the display read, “Infection negative. Quarantine lifted.” Paulson felt incredible relief. He was still alive. The chance he’d taken when he removed his glove had paid off. He’d been able to get everyone into quarantine and not been infected himself. He felt exhilarated and ready to take on the next challenge.

The lid to his capsule popped open and light flooded in. Paulson found himself in the medical lab where Dr. Peebles was waiting in a white lab coat to greet him. He tried to sit up, but the pain from his broken leg returned in waves, and he grumbled from the exertion.

“Mr. President. Glad to see you’re okay, sir!” Peebles said. “I was worried when you took off your glove. That was an incredibly selfless and brave thing you did back there, but you were lucky to make it through alive. Now that you’re out of quarantine, I can start treating that leg.”

“How many others?” Paulson asked, his voice raspy from his quick nap.

She sighed and looked down at the floor. “I’m sorry, sir, out of the original sixty-seven on the flight, there are only fourteen who made it through the crash and the quarantine alive and uninfected. A few registered positive for the virus in quarantine, so I administered an anesthetic
so they could die peacefully in their sleep. I. . . I just didn’t know what else to so, sir. I didn’t want them to suffer.”

Her eyes began to tear up. She did the right thing, but Paulson could see that she was crushed at not being able to help those people and for basically having euthanized them. Paulson put his arms around her.

“You did what you had to do, Rosemary. You saved them from suffering. They died peacefully.”

She wiped away her tears. “The survivors are through that door, in the main operation center. They’re waiting for you. But I can’t let you go until I treat this leg.”

“Just give me a painkiller for now,” Paulson growled. “I need to get in there and assess the situation.”

“But, sir . . . ”

“Just do it! And get me some crutches too, no damned wheelchair.” Paulson didn’t want to look weak. Whatever was facing him out there, he wanted to meet standing up.

After a quick shot from the doctor, Paulson hobbled into the central command area. The base had been updated with the latest equipment, including a direct feed into the
LiveStream as well as coordination with GovNet. All information that currently existed in electronic form could be accessed instantaneously from this hub, with on-ground video and satellite feeds available in real time as well. Two main access terminals were occupied by survivors from Air Force One. The other survivors were sitting in a lounge area off to the side, checking their portables to see if any new information was available. By the frustrated looks on their faces there apparently was not.

Paulson was happy to see Secretary of State Cameron Farrow pacing the floor of the command center.

He’s one tough old guy, that’s for sure.

Everyone turned as Paulson walked in. He held up his hand in greeting and mustered a half smile.

“Oh, thank God,” Melinda said. “The president’s alive!”

Cheers rang from the group and everyone started clapping. Many came over and greeted Paulson, shaking his hand, patting him on the back, hugging him.

“Thank you, everyone,” he said, touched by their enthusiasm. “I’m glad you all made it. I wish we could’ve saved more. I want everyone to keep those we’ve lost in our thoughts and prayers.”

Farrow shook the president’s hand. “I knew you’d make it through, you old coot.”

Paulson said, “I couldn’t leave you to run the place. You’d have everyone taking orders from the French.”

Farrow chuckled and bowed with a flourish of his arm, “
Oui, oui monsieur.”

Both laughed.

“Now what about Demetrius and Jones? Has anyone . . . ” Paulson stopped midsentence when the door from the medical lab opened and the colonel and Agent Jones came through, both looking relieved to see him.

Paulson embraced them both. “Glad you guys could join us. Don’t tell me you found the key.”

Demetrius and Jones glanced at each other. Then the colonel said, “No luck, sir. You did the right thing opening the door. Without your bravery, more would've died. But you are a stubborn, reckless old son of a bitch, with all due respect, of course, Mr. President.”

“I’ve been called worse, Colonel. I only did what I had to do and I was lucky not to have been infected. It’ll take more than a virus to take me out.” Paulson smiled; he could tell the colonel was lying. He did find the key, but had Paulson wai
ted, more would have died. He'd made the right choice.

"Oh, and sir," Demetrius said with a grim look on his face. "We found some
bodies in the hotel infirmary—several families who looked like they'd been on the way to a formal dinner reception of some type. We also checked a few rooms and the kitchen and staff areas and found more bodies. Seems like the staff knew there was some type of outbreak and asked guests to stay in their rooms, with the doors locked."

Well that explained not seeing any dead bodies in the hallways. As for the lack of bodies at the airport and in the town, it was likely those people went to the hospital as soon as they could. Or perhaps with the late hour in a small town and a blizzard on the way, everyone left work early and just decided to stay home.

“Now we get down to business. Agent, report!” Paulson said to one of the men at the terminals.

“We’re patched in to NORAD, and we were just waiting for you to come out of quarantine, sir. General Rowan is on the line. And, Mr. President, I’m not an agent; I’m Chad
Theobald, a civilian computer consultant working on congressional data encryption. I was on Air Force One to upgrade the servers.”

“Thank you, Mr.
Theobald. So you’re familiar with these systems?” Paulson asked, not really caring who the guy was, just that he could do the job and do it well.

“Yes, sir, very much so.”

“Excellent.” Paulson eyed the computer screen. “I’ll be taking this call privately. Is there somewhere I can talk?”

After the bomb on the plane, he was still wary that there might be a traitor in their midst. It was unlikely that the spy survived the plane crash
and
the virus, but he wasn’t willing to take chances.

“Sir, there’s a private presidential suite over here,” Demetrius said, gesturing toward an open door off to the side.

“Secretary Farrow, you’re with me. Mr. Theobald, continue to monitor the situation outside and let me know if anything new pops up.”

Paulson and Cameron walked into the private suite. It was no Oval Office, but was plush by secret-government-bunker standards. A holographic projector sat in the middle of a round table surrounded by comfortable leather chairs. Cameron and Paulson sat, and General Rowan popped up on the video feed. Despite the obviously long hours he’d put in, he still looked fresh and crisp in his full dress uniform. Of course the image could just be an avatar, which many folks used in video conversations. The avatars could look however the individual wanted them to look and would automatically follow the speech patterns and mannerisms of the speaker in order to appear lifelike.

“General Rowan, we’ve been able to make it off Air Force One and into quarantine in the base at the Greenbrier. There are fourteen of us left alive, uninfected. Secretary Farrow is here with me. What new information do you have?”

“Glad to see you’re both safe, Mr. President, Secretary Farrow, and I’m thankful that at least a handful of others made it as well. Let me first update you on a conversation I had with Dr.
Bellany from the CDC. Their data and the extrapolating models indicate that ninety-nine point seven percent of the world’s population of roughly nine billion is already infected. Based on the concentrations in the air and water, that will move to ninety-nine point eight percent in the next forty-eight hours. The point-two percent not infected will be those of us underground, underwater, flying in airplanes, and because of the nature of the jet stream and air transport of the virus, remote locations like the Amazon, Saharan desert, polar regions, and Siberia will not have been hit yet. Based on the virulent nature of the virus, maybe only about point zero, zero, five percent of the infected population could be naturally immune, although I think that number may be much, much lower. In total, that’s about one point eight million people left alive on the entire planet after forty-eight hours. Without—”

“Less than two million?”
Pain stabbed through his leg as Paulson tried to rise to his feet, momentarily forgetting about his injury. “Are you fucking kidding me, General?” He banged on the table.

“I’m sorry, sir. Yes, sir. Fewer than two million.” Rowan stared until Paulson sat again. “Should I continue?”

“I want to say no, but you’d better tell us everything.”

“Okay . . . Without specialized air filtering masks and water purification equipment, those remaining alive but not sealed off in
protected areas will be exposed to the virus and die within the next several days.”

“So it’s worse than we originally thought?” Cameron asked.

“That’s what the data shows,” Rowan said, nodding.

“Okay, General, we have to go with the data we have. Now what have you been able to find out about who’s behind this?”

“We still haven’t been able to contact agents in the field to confirm death tolls in other countries. I have several computer experts here working on the validity of the videos and streams. So far they haven’t been able to find any anomalies to indicate that the videos have been modified in any way. They aren’t one hundred percent sure though, and I’m still unable to contact our best cyber ops guys.”

“So basically we’re still flying blind,” Paulson retorted, disgusted at the lack of information. “What about the Chinese, have you talked to anyone over there yet?”

“I was waiting for you, sir.”

“Get me someone on the line then, General. I want to hear what they have to say.”

“Yes, sir. Give me a minute.”

The holographic image of General Rowan’s torso faded from view and Paulson was left staring at Secretary Farrow.

“What do you think, Cameron? You know the Chinese well. Could they be behind this?”

“As you know, relations between our countries have not been the greatest over the last few years, but I still don’t think that they would ever resort to this, this plague.” Cameron swung out his hand.

“What about the leadership over there? They’ve had some strange changes at the top recently. New Party members moving into power, others falling by the wayside. Could some crackpot have taken power without our knowledge?”

“Maybe,” Cameron said, thoughtfully, tipping his head toward the ceiling. “But we monitor them pretty closely and have intricate psychological profiles drawn up on all their leaders. None have been red-flagged as maniacal threats. But something like this virus requires time to be engineered; experiments run over years. It’s not like pushing a button and something blows up.”

General Rowan’s torso popped back up on the holo.

“Sir, the only person I’ve been able to contact is a general named Jung Wang. He claims to represent the Chinese government.”

“What about Premier Chao Mang? Did you tell them that the President of the United States wanted to talk directly to him?”

“I did, sir, but I couldn’t get past this general.”

That wasn’t a good sign. If the Chinese premier wouldn’t even take his call during such an unprecedented crisis, then diplomacy was unlikely. Moments later a Chinese military official appeared on the video screen.

“Sir, this is President Charles Paulson of the United States and I have Secretary of State Cameron Farrow here with me as well.” As Paulson spoke, the automatic translator delivered his words in Chinese. He decided it was best not to start out accusatory, but instead to treat the general with respect. “I’m sure you’ve experienced losses similar to what we’ve seen here in the United States. The Chinese people have our sympathy, and we’re here to provide assistance as best we can. I know we’ve had differences in the past, but now is the time to put those behind us and work together to solve this horrible tragedy that has befallen all of humanity. This is a threat not just to the Chinese people or to the American people, but to the entire world.”

“Mr. President, this is General Jung Wang.” The voice came out almost instantly in English. The general was using a light-skinned, blond, blue-eyed avatar dressed in an elaborate Chinese military uniform. The handsome face of the avatar was nearly perfectly symmetrical, with young chiseled features. It had become popular for people to adopt what in their mind was the most attractive avatar they could find, even if the particular avatar looked nothing like them. Asians tended to go for more Western-looking avatars, which, for whatever reason, was the trendiest look right now.