Overrun (8 page)

“President Ford, prepare as you
must. Attack is imminent. For many years we have debated this day. Due to what
everything has finally become, we see no other way.”

The holovid blinked out.

Ford stood motionless at the
center of the room. Behind him, Baldwin crossed to the couch and desk where he
originally sat. With delicate touches, he activated the command console
embedded in its surface. Blue lights flashed across his eyes while the system
brought itself to life.

Faulken moved to sit again
before the presidential desk while Ford slipped into a small door at the side
of the room. Besides the quiet sounds coming from Baldwin's command screen, a
foreboding silence dropped again across the tension-filled room.

Ford closed the door to his
personal lavatory behind him. For the moment, it sealed him away from
everything that had just occurred. Holding his tie against his chest, he bent
into the porcelain and vomited violently. His entire body shook from the nausea
and stress.

Ford closed the lid, huddled his
legs against his body and contemplated the decision he now had to make. In the
confined space of the small bathroom, he decided there was no other course of
action to take. He forced himself to try and see past the bitterness and rage
he felt for ultimately being thrust into this decision and took a moment for
his mind to register the responsibility he was now about to undertake.

Ford grabbed a space along the
wall and hauled his body up. He faced the mirror and threw cold water on his
face. He tried to control the shake that racked his bones. He didn't recognize
the man he saw before him. The image looked sick and old. Far from the man who
ultimately could be deciding the entire world’s fate. And ordering the
country’s military to begin killing its own.

The people living on the outside
were dying. It was a point no one could contest. Unleashing Plan Zero would
fend off the J.G.U. attack and remove them forever as a superpower threat. It
would also clear the lands necessary to make way for new dome and technological
constructions.

And it would put to final rest
the people living their slow tortured deaths on the outside.

Ford questioned the man in the
mirror as being the one able to set this in motion.

He thought of the beam cannon
technology in place if the country survived the war. It would pave the way for
healthier citizens to repopulate the United States. The radiation disease would
cease to exist, because everyone would be protected. Not just the select few.
The United States would regain its position as a leader in technology and
commerce and become strong once again.

Ford knew this would only happen
over a course of many years. More than he would ever see in his lifetime. But
it would happen.

If the plan was successful.

But the plan itself was one
giant risk. A risk in which the whole planet, not just the United States, could
pay an ultimate price.

Ford grabbed a towel and wiped
his face dry. He pulled out a comb from inside a drawer and tried to calm his
wild hair down to its side. Quickly, he slapped toothpaste across his teeth to
lessen the smell of dried vomit in his throat and then straightened his tie. He
turned around to put on his suit coat before opening the door and stepping out.

No one in the room made a sound.

Ford looked across the room to
Baldwin and Faulken both sitting in front of his desk. He strode briskly and
with purpose over to them and eased into his chair.

Clasping his hands across its
surface, he stared deeply into their eyes. Both steadily returned his gaze,
though neither dared to speak.

"How are the people
doing?" Ford asked them. "Has anything really changed over the past
few years?"

"They’re dying,"
Baldwin said evenly. "Our world is falling away. Food production is down
and pretty soon the mortality rate will catch up. The people on the outside
will be too sick and diseased to reproduce, and they will have nothing to eat.
In the end, sir, there will be no one left out there. The situation is beyond anything
we can prevent or alter."

The President nodded, unfolded
his hands and rested them apart on the desk.

"Alright gentlemen, today
is the day we all hoped would never come," he said sedately. "That
day is here. Start implementing Plan Zero. I’m giving you twenty-four hours to
make it ready. It is to be initiated in full force."

Faulken and Baldwin both nodded
wordlessly. They then stood and walked out of the room.

When they were gone, Ford
lowered his face into his hands and rested his forehead across his desk.

In a brief prayer, he begged for
forgiveness for what he had just done.

Kirken stood alone in the
parking lot for a few minutes waiting for the rage to leave his body. He waited
there a long time.

Before his children had
completely disappeared from sight up the street, he ran to rejoin them.

He was surprised to see how
alive the downtown shopping area was with activity. Crowds of diseased people
jostled around him while he jogged the short distance to where Brandon and Mel
waited for him two blocks ahead.

The sight of some of them made
him physically sick. Their bodies were covered everywhere with sores and
lesions. Their faces ranged from bright pink to brown to blistered and to
white. He didn't see anyone that didn't show some signs of radiation poisoning.

The heat was almost unbearable.
Despite the protection of his dark glasses, his eyes burned from the sun glare.
Every building seemed to smoke, and everywhere he looked something was either
chipped, cracked or crumbling to the ground.

Kirken hated the outside.

Still a block away from where
his stepchildren waited for him, the holovid strapped to his belt beeped twice.
Kirken slowed to a walk and then stopped when he saw the flashing blue lights indicating
a priority message was coming in.

"Commander Kirken," he
identified himself to the holovid's small screen.

He leaned against one of the
crumbling storefronts while waiting for the sender's image to settle in.

"John."

Kirken was surprised to see the
concerned expression of his physician friend, Jack Everson, on the screen.

"Yeah, Jack. What is it?
I'm about to go eat with my kids."

"There’s been a recall,
John," Everson said gravely. "All personnel on the outside are being
ordered back. You have to come back right now."

"Recall?" Kirken
questioned taking a quick glance up the street. Brandon and Mel had turned
around and were walking back toward him. "Not for me. I'm not coming back,
Jack. Recall or not. I'll be there in a couple of days."

Kirken started to close the
holovid. Everson's nearly pleading face stopped him before he did.

"It’s an emergency medical
recall, John," Everson said tripping noticeably on his own words. "We
need to haul everyone back in for health assessments."

"That's bullshit,
Jack," Kirken said trying to read the expression on his friend's face.
"Tell me what the hell is going on. There's never been a recall
before."

Everson didn't respond.

"I'll check in with you
when I get back." Kirken tried to close the holovid again. “You can give
me my health check then.”

“John," Everson's voice
became more urgent. "A dome wide epidemic has broken loose and up to
now is still not contained. Lockout conditions are being implemented. If you do
not return within the specified time, the domes will be sealed permanently, and
you will be forced to finish your life outside. Your dome citizenship will be
revoked."

"What?"

"It's that bad, John. The
doors are slamming shut. Come back in. We need you here."

"Why wasn't I informed by
my unit?"

"They're not informing
those on leave. I'm just passing on to you what I heard myself."

"Jack, what the hell is
going on?"

"Just come home,"
Everson warned. "While you still can."

The holovid screen faded to
black as the transmission ended. Kirken quietly reattached it to his belt and
looked towards Brandon and Mel. They were almost to him.

Everson's whole message was odd.
There hadn't been a dome wide epidemic in years. In all the time he had
lived within the domes, he had never heard of a complete personnel recall. He
knew something was not right. Yet despite how much the guilt stabbed
uncomfortably in his heart, he still knew he wasn't quite ready to give up life
in the domes.

Brandon and Mel finally reached
him. Kirken looked sadly into both of their eyes knowing that he would have to
return.

"Why did you stop?” Brandon
asked noticing Kirken’s stare. “What’s going on? What’s wrong?"

"I need to report
back," Kirken told them sidestepping an even more sickly looking group of
citizens wandering past.

"Goddamn it," Brandon
swore softly and spit on the sidewalk. "Now? Now you’re going to leave.
Why do you even bother to come here at all?"

Kirken ignored Brandon's sharp
comments and looked over at his stepdaughter. She said nothing to voice the
disappointment that was very obvious across her face.

"It's not my
decision," Kirken defended. "It's a facility-wide recall. I have no
choice."

"It doesn't matter to
me," Brandon said the anger now leaving his voice.

Apathy colored by a slight tinge
of remorse had replaced his anger and bitterness. His shoulders relaxed when he
turned around. The glare in his eye, however, did not lessen.

"I just know Mel’s been
looking forward to seeing you. It’s been a long time."

"Brandon…," Kirken
began.

Brandon turned and walked away.
Kirken stared after him while he moved away from them down the street. He
didn’t turn back around.

Kirken turned his gaze back down
to Mel. She looked at him and smiled. It almost covered the sad hurt very
evident behind her eyes.

He put his
hand on her shoulder and was about to apologize again when a loud
"crack" ripped through the still heat that hung in the stifling air.

"What the hell was
that?" Brandon asked slowly looking around the street and then turning
back to where Kirken and Mel stood.

Crack! Crack!

Two more loud popping sounds
echoed through the decomposing buildings that enclosed the city streets.

Kirken's arm dropped reflexively
to the Sunszk 3150, one of the most powerful hand weapons made in or outside
the domes, concealed beneath his shirt. He stepped in front of his daughter and
backed her towards the side of one of the storefronts.

The people milling about the
area stood motionless at the noise. Like Kirken and Brandon, their eyes darted
around seeking its source.

The skin crawled at the back of
Kirken’s neck. And for a reason he did not yet know, he released the safety on
his weapon.

With Mel trailing close behind,
Kirken walked over to Brandon. Both cupped their hands to their eyes and stared
toward the far end of the decomposing street.

In the distance, dark figures
approached from behind the sun’s glare. The people walking around scattered
slowly before them. Their movements were coordinated and pronounced. Nearly
twenty in all, they strode purposefully through the middle of the street.

Kirken watched in horror while
one of them near the front of the group raised his hand. At the signal, the
rest broke from the formation and spread across the street and onto the
sidewalks.

"What the hell?"
Kirken said under his breath and continued to stare.

Brandon and Mel stood rigidly
next to him on the sidewalk and watched them move steadily towards them past
the storefronts and through the curious few of the remaining crowd.

A woman wandered from the door
of a nearby building and stood in front of them causing the entire group to
stop. The sounds of her voice drifted lazily through the air while she faced
them. A slight scared edge colored her tone. Even from where Kirken stood, he
could see her body shake slightly.

One of the figures raised an
object in his fist to her forehead. In the same instant, her body crumpled to
the ground. The single shot echoed for what seemed like an eternity through the
still air.

Kirken heard his daughter gasp.

A second figure next to the
first bent and picked up her body and placed it gently on the sidewalk out of
the street. The rest continued to move ahead.

Others came from the storefronts
at the sound of the shot. One threw a brick into the group knocking one of the
figures in the head and collapsing him to the ground.

More gunfire ripped through the air.
Just at the edge of the sidewalk, the man who threw the brick jerked violently
sideways and fell in a motionless heap.

Kirken and his stepchildren
watched in stunned disbelief. Kirken blinked his eyes against the
ever-increasing harshness of the sun’s glare. The figures were now less than
fifty feet from where they stood.

"Those are goddamn
soldiers," he said swallowing hard and feeling his stomach drop to his
feet.

He put his arm on Brandon and
Mel's shoulders and pulled them slowly back towards the door of the nearest
storefront. He scraped his feet gently backwards until his outstretched hand
brushed across its latch.

He nudged it gently open and was
about to pull them inside after him when one of the soldiers closest to them
looked up. He motioned towards them with his weapon. Three others standing next
to him quickly raised their own.

"Down!" Kirken
screamed. The door behind them shredded instantly into splinters and dust.

Kirken drove his shoulders into
Brandon’s back and shoved him down hard behind a car parked at the curb. In the
same motion, he tackled Mel from behind as automatic weapons fire exploded
around them.

Mel's face smacked against the
cracked pavement, and blood spewed from her lip. Kirken rolled his large frame
off her thin shoulders while she struggled to breathe.

The car’s four tires exploded
with a loud bang. Glass and obliterated metal showered down on all sides.
Kirken clutched Mel’s hand until the shooting finally stopped.

When it did, he stuffed his
large shoulders beneath the car and scurried towards its front to get a better
look at their attackers. From beneath the shredded metal that had once covered
the engine, he watched a small group break from the main body and creep towards
them.

He fought the terror that
threatened to engulf his mind when he saw five automatic weapons aimed towards
where they hid behind the car. He started to slide back when a soldier noticed
his face against the ground and again opened fire.

"We can't stay here!"
Brandon screamed when Kirken had scurried free from beneath the tailpipe and
pulled himself up next to him at the back of the car.

Clutching it tightly in his
fist, Kirken jabbed his own weapon around the car’s side and shot two soldiers
who had just made their way to its shredded front. Keeping his head close to
the cover offered by the back bumper, he scanned his eyes around the area for
any others that might be closing in on their position.

Behind him, Brandon wriggled
away and began to pull and kick at pieces of decayed metal that covered a small
opening in the street. More soldiers broke away from the main group when they
saw the two fall in front of the car from Kirken’s return gunfire.

Further down the street just
before the horizon, hundreds more poured into the area. They marched forcefully
down the center of the street kicking their way into storefronts and shredding
metal with heavy barrages of weapons fire.

Giant flames and black smoke
reared into the sky consuming everything they walked past.