Pipe Dreams (18 page)

“So I
’m curious. How do you know they did it? And also, if they can do that, then why are you here?  Do you really think this new thing they’re doing is worse?” Michael asked.

“We know they did it. The CDC received a letter and a proclamation the day the Blue Flu was released. It told them where, why, and when, and it gave us a list of demands with the promise of a larger scale attack if we didn
’t comply. The only thing the letter didn’t say was how.

Since then, on every anniversary of the first strike, they
’ve hit again. The anniversary attacks aren’t as bad, but they’re convincing as hell. They go after high profile people – a senator and his family camping, a congress woman on a romantic get-away, shit like that. There’s no mistaking what kills them – skin all blue and tongues exploded. It’s the stuff of nightmares.

As for why we
’re here now, here’s the thing: Yeah, they could kill a lot of people with that weapon, but some are gonna survive. They’ll have babies. People will endure until someone figures out how to stop it. But this new thing, the new virus, it changes everything. Once it’s out, mankind is over. This one’s a hope killer,” the commander said.

“What makes you think you can stop them?” Ashley asked.

“We’re not sure we can. Still, the guy we have on the inside is high up in their organization. He’s been out of communication since the rebellion, but he gave up some solid information before that. Then, last week, we got a phone call from him and now we have a chance. There’s a vaccine for the new virus and we’re going to find it or die trying.”

“A phone call? Shit. From where? There ain
’t been phones in the city since I don’t know how long. And you got someone on the inside?  Inside what?” Michael scoffed.

“A satellite phone. Not a regular phone. This was the first time he used it. That
’s why we know it’s serious.”

“Who
’s your contact?” Michael asked.

“Why?”

“Maybe we’ve heard of him.”

“A rabbi named Cohen.”

“Isaac Cohen?”

“You know him?” the commander asked, frowning. Michael sagged on his crutches.

“Knew him. He died.”

“How? When?”

“Heart attack, we think, but we don’t know for sure. He was an old man. Really old.”

Vanessa blanched. How could Isaac have been involved in planning the
NSO?  How could he have known what was happening to her and allowed it to continue?  The vile revelation made it hard to breathe. Air rushed from her lungs and she doubled over, her body in rare revolt as the pain of treachery consumed her. All the ugly years she had endured, accepting as fact something she had never even thought to question, wreaked havoc on every fiber of her being. The hope she had held as slim sustenance through the horrors of her days was real, but not what she imagined. How could she have succumbed to their hideous design, even as they ravaged her body and battered her soul?  How did she not know that Isaac had betrayed her? The nausea returned. She retched into the scum at her feet.

“We need to get you folks out of here,” the commander said, looking at
her. He gestured to one of the men who had crept from the shadows to join them. “Joe, take them back to base. I’ll radio the colonel and let him know what’s happening.”

The man named Joe nodded. “Come on y
’all, let’s get goin’,” he drawled in a Texas twang. Vanessa stared at him. Did Texas still exist? Stunned by what had transpired, the group remained frozen until Mariah began to move. One by one, the cell members came alive. The splashing of their feet filled the pipe as they followed Joe through the fetid water.

Hopeful voices contemplated the possibilities that awaited them on the mainland. Fantasies of steak dinners and fried chicken colored the dark. As they traversed, the volume increased. Imagining a world full of lights and music, traffic and grocery stores, they exchanged stories about relatives and described the places they would visit once free. Time passed quickly as visions of the future distracted them.

Suddenly a disturbance stopped their progress. Mariah shouted, “Ashley, wait!”  Vanessa looked up to see Ashley sprinting past her into the dark. She had gone for Jeremy, but no one chased her. Instead, the cell members directed their focus on the bright, white light from Joe’s flashlight. As Vanessa followed the woman in front of her, she smiled. Ashley’s small feet flying through the dark gave her hope. The girl understood what it meant to love.

Part Two

CHAPTER 32

A cigarette smoldered on the edge
of the outdoor ashtray and McGrath picked it up absentmindedly. Holding it between two thick fingers badly in need of a manicure, he brought it to his lips and inhaled deeply, relishing the fullness in his lungs as the cool, mentholated smoke expanded to fill them. The tingle of nicotine worked its way to his head and, for a second, he closed his eyes in pleasure. Then he slammed the butt into the receptacle’s sandy bottom.

Cursing himself, he strode through the automatic doors. It had only been three days since he crushed his last pack, vowing to never touch the filthy things again. Now, he was grabbing someone
’s discarded butt, not even caring what vile germs might have been left by the previous mouth on the cigarette’s soggy, filtered end.

Inside the air-conditioned lobby of the administration building, he hurried across the polished linoleum floor, his eyes trained on the door in front of him. Behind it lay answers and possibly hope. An armed guard saluted as he approached, but Colonel Sean McGrath ignored him, the refugees foremost on his mind.

In the six years he had commanded the base his primary objective had been keeping the perimeter secure. No one was to get within thirty miles of the lakeshore in any direction. He oversaw the various military deterrents that kept curiosity seekers and serious fishermen at bay. A grueling drudgery, the assignment had been an affront to his fighting instincts. Still, he had understood the imperative. The risk of a large scale bio-terrorist attack was real. He would do what he could to mitigate the threat and protect the country he loved.

Recently, the threat level had increased. He had been informed the enemy had developed a new virus even more dangerous than the Blue Flu. His superiors felt an attack was imminent. They could not deter, or contain, its inevitable release. The military and the politicians had finally agreed to do something. Consequently, a team of elite Navy SEALs had been dispatched to the island. If detected by the madmen who controlled the city of
Edenton, the action would eliminate any possibility of truce and guarantee a major attack, but McGrath agreed with the decision. They had to get their hands on the vaccine.

Outside the cafeteria, he slicked his hair away from his forehead and smoothed his shirt. First impressions were critical and only the right combination of confidence, friendliness, and concern inspired trust. Hell of a time to quit smoking, he thought, pushing open the door.

The drab dining hall had all the charm of a well-worn army installation. Long, metal tables were lined up in neat rows. The dull, white walls were mostly bare, save for a wire-covered clock and a few regulation safety posters. Only the bank of windows on the far side offered any visual relief. They provided a clear view of the grass slope that led down to lake, framing a constantly changing picture of nature in all its pristine glory.

The aroma of hot coffee and grease hung in the air as he surveyed the scene. A young recruit steered a
dessert laden cart out of the kitchen. The scraggly refugees ignored him and focused on sopping up the remains of their dinner with sliced, white bread. Though they weren’t starving, the way they ate suggested this was the first real meal they had seen in years.

Sizing them up,
McGrath used the time to plan his interrogation. Long years of training and observation led him to ignore the center of the group. Those who needed to be in the middle of everything were seldom leaders. McGrath knew real power stayed behind the scenes. Leaders were quiet, observant, and calm, their calculated movements a study in energy economy. They didn’t waste time with frivolous endeavors. Consequently, McGrath didn’t give much attention to the tight pack clustered noisily at the center. Instead, his eyes trailed to the far end of the long table where a honey-colored man with thick dreadlocks, a heavyset middle-aged woman, and a young woman with exotic, almond shaped eyes sat by themselves. For a moment, he was transfixed. The young woman was striking.

The three spoke softly, plates pushed back and elbows on the table. Occasionally, the middle-aged woman glanced at the rest of the group, as if she were a mother surreptitiously checking on her children. McGrath couldn
’t get a read on the other woman. Her body language confused him.

The man looked younger than thirty and his posture was insolent. If there had been chairs, instead of the uncomfortable bench, McGrath guessed he would be leaning back with his legs spread and his arms behind his head. Still, he had presence and charisma. His confidence spoke volumes to McGrath
’s seasoned eyes.

He approached the table slowly, moving toward the center of the group to give those at the far end an opportunity to size him up as well. As he neared, the talking ceased. “Please, don
’t let me interrupt you. I just wanted to introduce myself. My name is Colonel McGrath and I am really glad to see you folks,” he said with a big smile.

Gesturing to the young recruit serving dessert, he continued. “You let Connor here know if you need anything else. When you
’re finished, he’ll show you your accommodations. We’ll get a chance to get to know each other better after you’ve settled in. Enjoy the rest of your dinner and, folks, welcome home.” He made a hasty exit to avoid questions he wasn’t prepared to answer. There would be time for that in the coming days.

Back at his desk, McGrath jotted down his preliminary observations. Then he picked up the phone and called his wife. He wouldn
’t be home anytime soon and, after his tour in Iraq, he had promised her he would do everything in his power to never leave her wondering again.

He rubbed his eyes and massaged his temples. Then he got to work. His orderly had left a neat stack of paper on the blotter. At the top of the pile, a list named the refugees. He scanned it. Army Intelligence was researching the names, but he didn
’t expect results that would make a difference.

The next sheet of paper delineated the steps taken to accommodate the refugees. His base was not designed for guests. Except for the occasional visit from the brass, people weren
’t welcome. Consequently, they didn’t have spare beds. In the morning, trucks would deliver tents and cots to house the newcomers, but tonight his men would be roughing it. Though unfortunate, he couldn’t exactly give the refugees a bunch of sleeping bags and let them find a comfortable piece of ground. That certainly wouldn’t convey the right impression. Their cooperation was key.

The third item was a transcribed message from the SEAL team. It read:

Flash Fire

16:17 Hours

Primary Objective has been compromised.

Observation commencing at target location.

McGrath thought about that. The Primary Objective had been to make contact with the Agency
’s man inside the city. Isaac Cohen, a retired rabbi, had been a reluctant informant prior to the hostile takeover six years earlier. By releasing the Blue Flu on the mainland, the enemy had kept retaliatory forces at bay. Since then, the city had remained isolated.

It had been a mean trick keeping the details of the attacks a secret. Quick maneuvering by the government had managed to dupe the public into believing the Blue Flu had decimated the populations of both cities. To stop the infection from spreading, the military had fire bombed the town in
Illinois. Edenton had supposedly been quarantined for further research.

The lies were swallowed whole. Only a special few knew the truth. Grudgingly, McGrath acknowledged the containment had been both effective and imperative. If people knew what was really going on, the ensuing panic would destabilize the world. He resented the lie, but recognized it as an essential part of his mission.

The biggest problem the military had encountered after the attacks was the total communications blackout the enemy had required inside the city. In a hand-delivered note, the terms of truce had mandated this, as well as specified a no-fly zone, a safety perimeter, and regular deliveries of food and hard goods necessary to the survival of those still on the island. The demands would have been ridiculous had the enemy not proved itself. Even after all this time, intelligence had not been able to source the attacks and the weapon had stumped the scientists. No antidote for the Blue Flu had proven effective.

McGrath
reread the communiqué. The rabbi’s recent phone call, albeit brief, had illuminated the current situation and prompted the action now underway. The military did not believe it could stop the inevitable release of the new virus. Consequently, obtaining the vaccine was imperative. Isaac Cohen had been their only contact in the city. Now that he was presumed dead, the team would be operating on vague information obtained from satellite imagery, old notes, and hypotheses. The plan had turned into a tactical nightmare. Instead of getting in and out quickly, the SEALs would be forced into risky reconnaissance. McGrath couldn’t wait to interview the refugees. They were his new, best hope.