The White Death (15 page)

“Pilot,” said Kilroy, looking faint. “Inform Washington that Beijing has fallen.”

Chapter 27

The Las Vegas airport was bedlam, with thousands trying to get home from their gambling holiday.

“No thank you,” said Peter to the pretty waitress in the luxurious VIP lounge. The last thing he wanted was water to dilute the alcohol he’d spent the last hour building up inside him.

“Damn, it’s crazy out there,” said a heavyset aging man, sitting in the chair opposite him. It was the last one free.

“Isn’t it, though?” agreed Peter. He took another swig of vodka and lime.

“Name’s Joe.”

“Peter.”

“Well, Peter, I think we’re all screwed, to be honest.” Joe accepted a glass of champagne from the same pretty waitress. They were both waiting for their flight to be called.

“I hope not,” said Peter quietly. “But you’re probably right.” He looked down, concentrating on the floating piece of lime.

“Oh Jesus,” said Joe. “Look at that.”

The few dozen people in the VIP lounge started crowding around a screen mounted on the wall, perfectly visible to Peter and Joe. The headline read, “China succumbs to virus. Region falling apart.” Major news networks began showing public uploaded videos from the Chinese capital. Fear was spreading, just as quick as the virus.

“Flight 423A to New York is now ready for boarding. First-class passengers, please proceed to gate number three.”

“Time to go,” said Joe.

Peter downed the last of his vodka and walked out of the room, his eyes glued on the news feed. It had really happened. There would be no stopping this now. Soon enough he was on the jumbo jet, trying to settle into a large, comfy, warm recliner. First class wasn’t something he treated himself to often, but in this case he’d made an exception. Sipping overly fruity champagne, he wondered about the team back in Section 51. With China infected, there would be emergency meetings internally and with the White House.

“No,” he said to himself. His brain was telling him to rush back, but his heart was winning the fight. Section 51 wasn’t the same anymore, and he’d lost faith in the leadership. Freda and Christopher were rushing from fire to fire, trying to keep everything from falling apart instead of tackling those who were starting these fires. The decision of sterilization was going right down to the wire. Now, with this virus, how many would die before the Bernay discovered a vaccine?

“New York in five hours, thirty minutes,” said the captain.

“Don’t you look merry,” said Gilbert Nolan, Security Chief at Section 51. He’d always reminded Peter of an old-fashioned henchman, with the bald head, square shoulders, and love of trench coats.

“Gilbert,” said Peter. Gilbert’s intimidating appeared contrasted with his cuddly personality. “I’m not in top-notch shape at the moment.”

“No,” smiled Gilbert. “Champagne has that effect, ya know?”

“I wondered how long it would take for you to come,” said Peter. “You should join me. With China infected, we won’t see Christmas unless the Council comes up with a vaccine.”

“You sound unbelieving,” said Gilbert.

“I am,” said Peter, his glass being topped up. “If I had faith in the Council—or Section 51, for that matter—I wouldn’t be sitting here getting drunk. Freda is grasping at straws.”

“Come on, this isn’t you. You should be back in Section 51. The family always pulls together at a time like this.”

“We don’t all feel like a family anymore,” said Peter.

“We’ve been through hard times before,” said Gilbert. He refused a drink from one of the few flight attendants. Clearly they were short-staffed.

Peter turned to look Gilbert straight in the eye.

“You don’t get it,” he said quietly, “this is our endgame. Either way, we lose.”

“They won’t let us die,” laughed Gilbert. “Don’t be silly, Peter. How many of them have you had?”

“Not enough,” said Peter.

“I can’t force you to come back,” said Gilbert. “Normally, I’d have been instructed to come and drag your ass back to base, kicking and screaming.”

“Tell Christopher I wish him luck, but he should head back to his family while there’s still time,” said Peter. “You too.”

“Seriously? You’re just going to leave them alone in this? Fighting an alien virus?”

“What’s the point in fighting it? Even if we survive, breeding licenses are going to be introduced,” said Peter.

“They might help us,” said Gilbert. “Hell, Peter, everyone knows we need it. Look at the state of the world—and I mean before the virus broke out.”

“They aren’t planning to help the human race,” said Peter. “They’re planning its annihilation.” With that, he downed another glass of champagne, recently left on his tray table by the passing flight attendant, with gusto.

“Take care, my friend.”

“You too,” replied Peter. They shook hands, and Gilbert headed to the toilet room to transport back to Section 51. A beautiful, curvy, blond twenty-year-old woman took Gilbert’s seat quickly afterwards, bringing a pink bottle of champagne with her.

“Hello,” she said.

Chapter 28

“Europe is in panic,” said Secretary of State Vanessa Kramer. “They’ve sealed their borders and put their military on high alert. Germany is leading the effort and demanding Eastern European nations agree to whatever actions it feels are necessary to prevent infection.”

“Let them get on with it,” said Thomas. “We’re in no position to help Europe at the minute. China?”

“Official communication is sporadic at best, sir,” said Kramer. “The government is dissolving. It’ll be nonexistent in a few hours.”

“Sir,” said Gail. “With the virus now airborne and infection of China’s near two-billion-person population inevitable, surely global infection is certain.”

“Just don’t let the press hear you say that,” he warned.

“Of course not.”

“Thank you,” he replied to an aide who passed along a note. It was simple—Ambassador Kilroy rescued. Quarantined in Japan. At least he’d been able to accomplish something today. He felt the taste of achievement, but it only lasted a second. Reality was all too ready to drag him back to its bitter depths. Now in the sanctuary of the Oval Office, he took a few seconds to relax behind his desk. The silence was magical.

“Sir, Freda on line one,” said Gail.

Not even a minute, he thought.

“Freda.”

“Mr. President.”

“Where the hell are these virologists the Council are sending?” His fury came quickly, coming to the forefront of his tone in leaps and bounds. “I have a world here that’s falling to pieces and an alien Council who is responsible, and yet I see nothing being done about it.”

“They have an ETA of just under three hours, Mr. President.”

She sounded weary, a person who was on the edge. He knew how she felt.

“I need something better than that,” he said. “This simply isn’t acceptable. Put me through to the leader of the Council.”

“Sir,” said Freda, “I can’t even get in touch with her at the moment. I’m going to transport up to the starship. If I get an audience, I will relay your feelings.”

“Freda,” he said. Thomas tried to keep his tone in check. “We need those virologists. We are losing millions of people an hour. Innocent men, women, and children. Children who will never have the chance to grow up because of a Council that…”

He bit his tongue, forcing himself not to shout.

“Sir, we are doing all we can down here,” said Freda.

“Doing what exactly? So far, Section 51 and your Council have come up with nothing.”

The line went quiet. He waited for her to reply. There was no way he’d make this an easy phone call. He didn’t have much power over anything else.

“No one is more aware than me, sir, of the gravity of this situation,” she finally said.

“We need a vaccine. You have one hour.” Thomas slammed the phone down, trying to calm his temper before he exploded. Loosening his tie, he took some deep breaths. The next meeting was only a few minutes away.

“Mr. President,” said Gail, barging in. Thomas couldn’t help but catch a glimpse of the packed room outside. He was glad the Oval Office was soundproofed.

“What’s wrong now?” said Thomas, standing up.

“I’ve just received this,” she replied, handing him photos.

“That’s Peter Roberts,” said Thomas, his stomach suddenly feeling uneasy. He flicked through a half dozen printed photos of the eminent scientist and head of the CDC.

“Not the most flattering,” said Gail. Peter lay unconscious on a hotel bed with not many clothes on. A young blonde posed beside him.

“At least she’s fully dressed,” said Thomas, handing the photos back. “What happened?”

“The photos aren’t important. It’s who he’s with. That girl’s a reporter with the
Chicago National
. Apparently Mr. Roberts got drunk on his way home to visit family and ended up in bed with her.”

“Oh Christ…what did he say?” Thomas could picture the headlines now. The
Chicago National
was what he considered a “fringe” newspaper. The government had been putting pressure on most media outlets since the viral infection began, encouraging them not to spread panic. All had complied, except the
Chicago National
.

“It would be easier asking me what he didn’t say,” said Gail.

“That bad?” Half of him didn’t want to know.

“Well, no detail was spared—let’s put it like that. She insists on using contraception, but our good scientist dismisses the idea entirely.”

“Let me guess, sterilization?” Thomas studied the photos again. He didn’t look up at Gail, not wanting to broach the conversation of sterilization with her just yet. If she didn’t ask, he wouldn’t explain. Roberts did indeed look completely intoxicated, with just a sheet saving what little dignity he had left.

“And the rest,” said Gail.

“Do we have a recording?” he asked, sitting back down.

“Yes, sir. But you won’t want to watch it. It’s quite lengthy and drawn out. He passes out at the end into a drunken sleep. Unfortunately, that was after he used phrases including ‘mentally retarded,’ ‘homosexuality,’ and even ‘the bald.’”

“Okay, okay, I get the point.” Thomas didn’t want any more details.

“He’ll have one headache when he wakes up,” said Gail.

“He’s already given us one. Where’s he now?”

“We don’t know,” she admitted. “There’s no hotel name, though the timestamp indicates he’s probably still passed out.”

Thomas crossed his legs, weighing options in his mind.

“Have the Secret Service track him down. Immediately. I want him brought directly to me.”

“Yes sir,” she said. “The reporter?”

“What does she want?”

“Nothing apparently,” said Gail. “She just wants the truth.”

“The truth?” said Thomas. “Well, that just isn’t helpful.”

“Should I have her brought in?” asked Gail.

“No, no,” repeated Thomas. “That could cause a bigger storm.”

“Thomas,” said Gail. “If she releases this video, we’ll not have to worry about the virus anymore. Roberts goes into quite a bit of detail about sterilization and gives some very emotional arguments about why it is wrong. If this all gets out, the public will go crazy. They’ll be demanding you blow these aliens out of the sky.”

“We have information, sir,” said General Frank Sparks, head of the U.S. Air Force, barging into the room. He was in full uniform, medals and pins on full display.

Thomas rolled his eyes. “I gathered as much.”

“We authorized reconnaissance flights over China since we confirmed infection of Beijing. We decided it was worth the risk of being discovered. We needed the recon.”

“Speed it up, General,” said Thomas, snapping his fingers.

“The virus has spread quicker than any of our estimates. We’re detecting infection in thirteen more Chinese cities. It’s already reached the Mongolian border with China, and Russia is preparing to bomb the border zones.”

“Will they go nuclear?”

“They might, Mr. President. We have no way to know and won’t be able to stop them if they do. I cannot guarantee hitting every nuclear facility. There are some we don’t know the location of.”

“Suggestions?”

“Leave them to it,” said Sparks. “I spoke to General Richards on my way here. He agrees. Let Asia fight it out. We need to fall back and try to reestablish another line of containment.”

“Which will never work,” shouted Thomas. “Retreat after retreat. Can we offer any support?”

“Only bombing runs, which is against our laws,” said Sparks, staying calm while the president fumed. “They are still sovereign nations, and we are not at war with them. Speaking frankly, it won’t make much difference. There is too much land to cover, over two billion people in the region. We’d never make a dent.”

“Once infection reaches India, Europe is doomed,” said Thomas. “And we, the United States, the most powerful country on the planet, can’t do anything?”

“We could shore up Britain,” said Sparks. “It’s an island. We’ve a far better chance at securing it than mainland Europe. It’ll also give us a base to work from over there when the dust settles.”

“At least you’re being optimistic,” said Thomas. “Gail, have Vanessa contact the British. Let’s get this moving.”

“Sorry I’m late,” said Richards, coming in. “I was speaking with my Australian counterpart. They’re getting very nervous down under. The Australian Navy has been ordered to fire on any naval ship that is not authorized to enter their territorial waters.”

“What about Japan?” asked Thomas, watching the General as he took a seat.

“They’ve been very effective so far, totally ruthless, in securing their borders,” said Richards. “They’re dispatching naval ships to intercept rogue vessels coming from the Chinese mainland. They’ve ordered a first-strike policy and have applied this to any number of commercial and military planes leaving China.”

“How many troops do we have in mainland Europe?”

“Over 40,000.”

“Get them out,” barked Thomas. “Evacuate immediately. Pull our troops from across Europe and order all our carriers around China to withdraw to American waters. I want a total recall of all our military forces. Do I make myself clear?”

“Does that include withdrawing our 25,000 troops from the United Kingdom?” said General Green, stepping toward the presidential desk.

“The United Kingdom is an island and better placed to thwart this virus,” said Sparks. Everyone present knew General Green was someone with deep anti-Europe views. “It would make more sense to relocate all our European forces there.”

“I agree,” said Thomas. “We’ll advise them to enact a total quarantine of their islands and prepare for the worst. Until then, our troops remain there.” 

“I am not prepared to favorite the UK,” said Green.

“The last time I checked, the president was the commander-in-chief of the forces of the United States. Until you convince Congress to change the Constitution, you will do as I command. Now, withdraw all our troops from every overseas base and location except the UK and Japan. Is that understood?”

“Yes, Mr. President,” said everyone in unison.

“Gentlemen, the UK has mettle. If there’s one county bar us that can survive this crisis, it’ll be Britain. We’ll need a stronghold in Europe, and Britain’s our best bet. Dismissed.” Thomas watched as the deflated generals left the oval office. He didn’t want to come down heavy on them, but he had to project confidence. Being a new president, with no combat experience and little political experience, made him a constant target of the establishment in Washington. He was just grateful Richards seemed to get along with him.

The generals, including Richards, left.

“Any progress?”

Gail closed the door behind them. “The Secret Service is closing in on Roberts. I’ve still yet to get in contact with the
Chicago National
reporter.”

“You realize if we don’t control this now, anarchy in every city in the country is a real possibility,” said Thomas. “I’ve been thinking of the international fallout as well. Countries like Russia and India, discovering we knew all about it. They may well want to train some of their own nukes on us.”

“Surely not, sir,” said Gail.

“They’ll be looking for someone to blame, and the United States will have a red bull’s-eye on its head if this is released. Gail, we can’t let this happen.”

“Are you suggesting what I think you are?” she said. “That’s a dark road.”

“I’m already on the darkest road,” said Thomas. “I can’t let the nation break at the seams—we’re already under so much pressure. Get Houston here immediately.”

“Yes, Mr. President.”

Thomas watched her leave, hoping she had lost none of the respect he had built up with her over their many long years working together. His grandmother burst into his thoughts, and he remembered an old Latin phrase she once told him.

“
Inter arma enim silent leges
,” he whispered to the empty office.

In times of war, the law falls silent.