The White Death (19 page)

“Are we talking about evacuation or war?” asked Richards.

“What we’re proposing is a humanitarian rescue,” said Ursula. “We take as many as we can from France and bring them to Ireland and mainland Britain. We’re calling it Dunkirk 2.0.”

Trust a scientist to come up with a name like that, thought Thomas. It slightly amused him.

“What was Dunkirk?” asked Kilmoran.

“During World War II, over the course of a week, 300,000 soldiers were rescued from the beaches of Dunkirk and brought back to Britain before the Nazis closed in,” said Ursula. “What made it so endearing was that it wasn’t just the Royal Navy that did it, but civilian ships as well.”

Thomas was surprised the Defense Secretary hadn’t heard about it.

“Sounds like a defeat,” said Kilmoran.

“On the contrary,” said Thomas. “Three hundred thousand soldiers were saved. That, Madame Secretary, is no defeat.”

Kilmoran blushed as all eyes turned on her, aware of the polite presidential putdown.

“If we send as many ships as we can, akin to the infamous Dunkirk rescue, then we could save tens of thousands. The United States has two aircraft carriers in British waters from the military exercises. They alone can carry 10,000 people. That, along with every ship in Britain—we might be able to get 100,000 out, maybe more.”

“Those are big ifs,” said Kramer.

“This whole situation is a big if, Madame Secretary,” said Ursula. “But here is what I do know for sure. If we do nothing, no one will be saved, and every person on mainland Europe will become infected. We have the ships and the troops to make this happen.”

“How would we hold back the spread of the infection long enough to make this work?” asked Richards. “We’ve seen it taking over a country in the blink of an eye.”

“We equip every single aircraft we can with sarin-43,” said Peter. “Then, get confirmation from Germany and Spain for more specific target coordinates. We send in our bombers, who kill as many infected as possible. In the meantime, every ship in Britain will head to western France to evacuate as many as we can.”

“I take it you mean highways and such?” said Richards,

“Exactly,” said Peter. “We cut off all modes of easy transportation to France especially.”

“It’s a two-pronged approach,” said Ursula. “The reason we have selected Western France as the evacuation point is because it should be, geographically, the last point in Europe to become infected. We get as many people to head as westward as possible and take whoever we can.”

“And if one is infected?” said Jacqui. “We could lose Britain and Ireland, as well.”

“At the rate this virus infects the host, we will know immediately if someone is infected,” said Peter.

“And we can’t have Britain’s airspace overrun,” answered Ursula. “This evacuation is by sea only. We let it be known publicly that any plane that attempts to land in Britain will be shot down. Tell anyone left in Europe—head for Brest. It’s a French town with a large port, big enough for aircraft carriers to dock.”

“I want to save as many as possible, as well, but you’re talking about an exodus from Europe,” said Thomas. “It’ll be chaos.”

“From a military point of view, there are far too many variables,” said Richards. “We are putting two of our aircraft carriers in direct danger. So many things could go wrong, apart from infection. But we’ve lost enough people today, Mr. President. I’m in favor of trying to save some. In my opinion, we should go in.”

Seeing Richards’s resolve, the rest of the advisors agreed. But just as soon as everyone felt a moment of hope, an aide rushed in, handing the general a note. His face fell.

“Mr. President,” he said, removing his reading glasses, “we’ve just detected nuclear detonations in Russia and India. Dozens of them. Intelligence suggests what is left of their governments are attempting to contain infection by destroying entire cities.”

“Just Russia and India?”

“Numerous nuclear detonations across the Middle East and Asia. The Middle East has definitely fallen.”

Thomas tried to imagine ancient civilizations falling. Was this how it happened throughout history? An unstoppable force, which they could never defeat?

“Sir?” said Gail.

“We are losing the world, bit by bit. General, move our armed forces up to DEFCON 1. Gail … I need to speak to the European leaders. We’re running out of time.”

Chapter 36

“Live in five minutes, Prime Minister,” said Donald Cockle, his spokesperson.

William Stone gathered his thoughts. Over 600 members of Parliament settled down, looking in only one direction. The chamber was packed to overflowing, which only added to the sense of national urgency. Britain was in a danger not experienced since the Second World War. They had to rise to the challenge, and Stone would drag every ounce of courage he had left to the speech. It was make or break now.

“Ten seconds,” said Cockle.

Stone stood up, and the chamber hushed. He watched as the fingers counted down from five.

“I address you now, not from Downing Street, but from the heart of our democratic nation. The Houses of Parliament have stood the test of time against every threat this nation has faced. A phrase was coined many years ago, calling them the ‘Mother of All Parliaments.’ I can think of no more apt place for me to be addressing the county on the eve of our greatest challenge yet.”

He stopped and took a breath, looking around the chamber. The country was only a few hundred miles away from a virus that marched towards it like an unbeaten enemy. That, though, always brought out the best in Britain and her politicians.

“I know most of you are sitting at home, frightened. You’re worried about the future of your family, your friends, your town, your city. The government is, too. The vast resources available to both us and the United States of America have been called into service, and we will utilize every asset at our disposal to protect our countries and the future of our race. Never before have we faced such a threat to our very existence. We do march towards victory, but we have not yet won the final battle. British and American scientists continue to work around the clock. I have been assured a vaccine is imminent, and we have the facilities for mass production. Help is on its way.”

People across the chamber stamped their feet and clapped, showing their support for the prime minister.

“Almost 100 years ago, the British proved to the world our ability to pull together in another time of crisis. The Dunkirk evacuation saw 300,000 of our boys rescued from the beaches of war, in the face of Nazi annihilation. Every ship at the disposal of the Royal Navy, along with fishing boats, trawlers, garbage boats, and many more civilian vessels and their crews, sailed into that warzone without even being asked. Men and women not in the armed services took it upon themselves to set sail and rescue their fellow countrymen. Even as the skies raged with war and the English Channel turned a blood red, our nation came together. It was one of the most defining moments in British history. That act of human kindness showed the world our determination and our resolve.

“Moments ago, I spoke to the American president. We discussed the harrowing situation on the European mainland. The virus has penetrated Germany and Spain’s farthest borders, continuing its march westward like many foes before. In agreement with the American president, I believe it is time to resurrect the spirit of Dunkirk and the British people, once more!”

The chamber erupted with deafening applause as Stone ramped up the rhetoric and passionate determination in his speech. To rally the nation to such a task, he’d have to bring out patriotism to its zenith. The public was frightened, and he needed to transform that into utter defiance.

“I refuse,” roared Stone, thumping his hand on the podium, “to abandon millions of innocent Europeans—our friends and comrades—to a grisly fate. Britain has always stood firm in the face of all adversity. We’ve always backed the underdog, and we have never been defeated!” Stone’s face was red with gusto, the energy in the packed chamber reaching fever pitch.

“The British people have a unique tendency to pull together, every man and woman, in the charge to total victory. No less has ever sufficed. I ask each and every one of you now to show that golden quality once more. The remaining countries on this planet, our home, have called upon us, and we must answer that call. I have informed anyone left in Europe to head for the western tip of France, the city of Brest. The Royal Navy and every ship in its mighty fleet will steam to that location to rescue as many as possible. This is not a war of nations but a war against humanity itself. We are all together now. But the Royal Navy will greatly benefit from all those ‘little ships’ that made the original Dunkirk rescue such a triumph in history. I call upon every person in this nation to do their duty. Anyone who has any type of watercraft, take up arms, head for Brest, and do your duty. Do your duty not only to King and Country, but for all mankind. Once again, the lights are going out all over Europe, and it is true things may never be the same again, but we can make a difference right now. Thank you, and good luck.”

In the most unparliamentarily fashion, members in the chamber jumped to their feet, giving him a standing ovation. The prime minister continued to stand behind his podium, solemn and determined. He’d never admit it, but keeping the tears back was darn difficult. Even the British stiff upper lip was feeling the emotion.

“I think you just clinched it,” said the Home Secretary. Jonathan Pinkerton had flown in from mainland Europe, where he’d been stranded at a crime prevention conference. Stone had personally authorized an emergency rescue operation for him and his team.

“Let’s hope so,” said Stone, leaving the chamber with senior ministers. “We have this one opportunity to save lives. It’s not going to come again.”

Chapter 37

Operation Dunkirk 2.0 was now in full swing, with the British public defying international expectations by coming out in mass force. The scenes were staggering, and the media made sure they were broadcast across the world. From cruise liners to fishing boats, aircraft carriers to patrol boats, every ship was brought to bear.

Christopher listened to the news report and could see Brest flooded with thousands of people, desperate for rescue. He, on the other hand, was not feeling jubilant at all. While Dunkirk 2.0 had brought some much-needed unity to the world, something to smile about, he was facing another internal crisis now.

“CIM, scan again,” he said.

“Still nothing?” asked Peter, arriving with Ursula.

“No,” said Marina Black, Section 51’s operations manager.

Christopher didn’t really focus on what his team was saying. He watched them, Marina with her bushy hair and defiant manner—she was convinced Freda would be found—but he tuned out. Something like this was not in his old friend’s nature. “When was she last seen?” said Ursula.

“After the White House meeting,” he said, trying to remember any little detail or hint she might have given. “She came back here, we discussed the Council meeting, and then she left.”

Marina flipped an e-pad around to read it, and her face fell.

“Europe?” he asked.

“No, the Middle East,” she replied. “Six more nuclear explosions detected in that region. We’re going to destroy this planet.”

Everyone contemplated the stark reality that Marina had just reminded them of. Time was running out, and Christopher had few options available to present to the government now.

“I think we might need to accept help is not coming,” said Ursula.

“I’m with her,” said Marina.

“No vaccine, you mean?” said Christopher. “Peter?”

“I wouldn’t like to think the council would abandon us,” said Peter. “But I don’t have a vaccine for you, and I’m not even close to one. That’s why I need to get to China.”

“And lose you, too?” said Christopher. He didn’t want to authorize a suicide mission. Freda always made such decisions look easy, a clear weighing up of the needs of the many versus the few. It just wasn’t that easy for him, and maybe she just made it look easy for their benefit.

“China?” asked Marina.

“Ursula believes she may have found a carrier of the virus,” said Christopher.

“If we have, then it could drastically speed up our progress in creating a vaccine,” said Peter.

“Tenfold maybe,” agreed Ursula. “We need that authority to go.”

Christopher looked between the three of them, his colleagues and friends. Things were easier in the Army.

“Marina?”

“Send him,” said Marina without a moment’s thought. “He needs to go. I’ll take him myself. Peter, get your bags packed. Go on.”

“Hold on a minute,” said Christopher. “Marina, I need you here with me. Some of the leadership needs to stay, or the staff will start to panic.”

“Good point,” she said. “Peter, you’ll have to go on your own, but I promise you this—if you need rescue, I’ll be there.”

Christopher knew she would go in a heartbeat. Marina had always been the type of character to take on any challenge. She’d tried her best to get to Britain to help with the Brest evacuation. Obviously he had refused, but he imagined her on the tip of an aircraft carrier, leading the way to rescue.

“Peter, how soon can you be ready to go?” he asked. If they were on their own now, then they needed to create their own vaccine.

“Now,” said Peter. “I’ve already requested a jet, and it landed ten minutes ago.”

“Are you sure this is a carrier?” said Marina.

“Not 100 percent,” said Ursula, “but we have reviewed every word of Captain Rodgers’ report. If we can locate the female and she is a carrier, then I can present you with possibility of a vaccine.”

“And without the carrier?” asked Christopher.

“Months,” said Ursula. “Maybe years. Maybe never.”

“It’s a long shot,” said Marina. “But we can’t rely on the Council anymore, and Freda is missing in action. The vaccine is our only priority now, Christopher, or we’ll all end up infected.”

“We’ll get ready immediately,” said Ursula.

“Before you leave,” said Christopher, “I need something to offer the president. Something we can do now to try and reduce the risk to the country until we develop our own vaccine.”

“Kill as many infected as the military can,” said Ursula.

“Just kill everything?” said Christopher. “Is a cure out of the question?”

“Yes,” said Ursula. He could tell her patience was wearing thin on that subject.

“How much of the virus could we eradicate by bombing?”

“If done methodically, maybe ninety percent virus removal from the planet. Dense jungles, large fortified buildings—these are all places that could safely harbor infected animals.”

“But we could definitely reduce the chance of infection?” said Christopher.

Ursula didn’t look too convinced. “It will help, but total extermination of the virus would take years of conventional bombing.”

“World’s going to hell anyway,” replied Peter. “I need to do this. The number of deaths that are now on me, because of me. I’m going to China.”

Christopher ignored him.

“Report complete. Freda’s neural tracking chip has been disabled,” said CIM.

“What?” said Christopher, the computer catching him off guard.

“Scan complete. Freda cannot be located. Her tracking chip has been deactivated,” said CIM.

“Deactivated?” said Christopher. He felt faint. “She must not be coming back…”

“How can you be sure?” asked Ursula. “I mean, it hasn’t been that long. They don’t let you report humans as missing in this short of a time.”

“Her tracking chip is embedded into her brain,” he explained. “It would only be deactivated on purpose.

“Freda would never abandon us,” said Marina adamantly. “Maybe she didn’t have a choice.”

Christopher pondered her statement. “Do we have enough sarin?”

“One hundred percent of the bio-chambers are online and running at full capacity,” said Ursula, not needing to read the details of the report folder. “Bombing runs over Europe proved mildly successful. If we widen our targeting area, we push the virus back, and yes, millions will die.”

“They’re dead already,” said Marina. “I might as well be the one to say it. They’re dead. We need to look after the living right now.”

“But do we have the sarin capacity for such large-scale bombing?” said Christopher.

“We do, and it’s better than nuclear bombs,” said Ursula.

“And we can produce it in large quantities,” added Peter.

“The government will want to move quickly on this,” said Christopher. He was dreading telling Richards that Freda had gone AWOL and that a vaccine from the Council was unlikely. “Europe will be our first target.”

He turned up the volume for a live news report. Countries across South America were struggling to maintain order as people rose up to demand answers. Martial law had been declared in more than twenty U.S. cities, with New York teetering on the edge of collapse.

“Which one goes?” asked Christopher, looking between both scientists.

“Me,” said Peter instantly.

“No,” said Ursula. “I’m the virologist here, not you. It’s me who has to go.”

“I’m not sending both. We can’t afford to lose the two of you,” said Christopher.

“I’m going,” said Ursula. “Sorry, Peter, but I’m the best change we have out there.” She stared at Peter, daring him to counter-argue.

“Ursula, go,” said Christopher. “And good hunting.”

“To us all.”

***

Corridor ceiling lights glowed red, on and off, highlighting that Section 51 was in lockdown mode. It reminded Ursula of being on a submarine during battle, only with much more room.

“Wow,” she said as three robots sped past her.

“Been requested by the labs,” said Marina as they quickened their pace.

“Robots?” said Ursula. They looked like metal humanoids.

“Aye,” said Marina as they entered the lift. “Equipment room.”

“How many?” asked Ursula.

“We have thirty of them, but usually only half are in operation at any time. Now, all of them are. They help us maintain the facility, participate in research experiments, planning, and estimations.”

“Helpful,” said Ursula.

“They are,” agreed Marina, “Until the little creatures break down. Then I’ve got the gloves on, and I’m elbow-deep in them getting the problem fixed. I found a fork once, ya know, and we never did find out how it ended up in there.”

Ursula laughed as Marina retold the story, finding her facial expressions and mischievous eyes hilarious.

“I meant what I said,” said Marina as they stepped out of the elevator. “If you get trapped in China, I’ll be there.”

“Let’s hope it doesn’t come to that,” said Ursula. A vivid picture of Marina paratrooping onto a rooftop, surrounded by robots, sprang into her mind.

“Let’s hope,” said Marina. “But I operate by a simple rule—leave no one behind, especially the women.”

Ursula laughed.

“We are running out of time, though,” she said, almost breaking into a run herself as they reached the equipment room. Her large ball of permed hair bounced along with her.

“Welcome to my lair.” They entered a glistening black-colored equipment room, bristling with all kinds of technology and combat gear. White lights slowly came to full brightness in each corner, and Ursula thought she had entered some kind of superhero’s dream room.

“CIM, darling.”

“Hello, Marina,” said CIM.

“CIM, prepare for category-one away mission,” said Marina. She guided Ursula onto a circular pad, nearly flush with the black floor tiles. It glowed red.

“What’s going on?” said Ursula. She felt a bit nervous but tried to hide it. She hated feeling out of her depth.

“Stay still,” said Marina. “CIM, work your magic!”

“Preparation for level-one away mission in progress,” said CIM.

Ursula waited, giddy excitement giving her that butterfly feeling in her stomach. Little white lights, over 100 of them, appeared from the pad she stood on. They swarmed around her, like leaves in the wind, and she felt and saw their incredible work.

“Fantastic, isn’t she?” said Marina. Ursula knew she was referring to CIM. It was magnificent. A full skin-tight armored body suit formed over her, like a cat-suit. Right up to her neck, the little white lights left nothing unprotected as they created the armor. Boots formed, as did armored gloves.

“That is incredible,” said Ursula. She stepped off the pad. “Everything feels so flexible and soft, like rubber.”

“But hard as diamond,” said Marina. “Here.” She handed the professor a utility belt, with weapons and gadgets.

“Not what I’m used to,” said Ursula. She felt so safe and tight in the body armor. “I thought Section 51 was a research organization.” There were more weapons and armor in here than at an army barracks.

“We are,” said Marina. She checked the bodysuit, making sure everything was sealed in. “But sometimes you need to fight to keep the peace.”

“Truer words were never spoken,” said Ursula. She knew freedom of speech and free will only existed because millions had been prepared to fight for it. “This suit doesn’t leave much to the imagination.”

“At least you’ve stayed trim,” said Marina, cackling. “These are state of the art suits, designed to regulate breathing, temperature, and reflexes. The ultimate expedition gear, and where you’re going, you’ll need every trick I can give you.”

“Thanks… I think,” said Ursula.

“This,” said Marina, handing her a tidy little black briefcase, “is your walking, talking, dancing, and swinging laptop.”

“My what?” said Ursula.

“It contains a full biological testing kit and specialized e-pad with independent Internet connection system,” said Marina. “You’ll never lose signal with this.”

“Never?” said Ursula.

“Well, unless one of our satellites is shot out of orbit,” said Marina. “But if things are that bad, I’ll be coming to get you myself!”

Ursula could tell Marina considered this her domain. Everything about the room and the equipment seemed to match her personality as Section 51’s operations manager.

“Impressive,” replied Ursula. “Obviously we don’t have anything like this available in Britain.”

“Neither does the U.S. government,” said Marina with a smirk. “We at Section 51 prefer to keep our unique technology separate from the workings of government.” Marina sat down on one of the long black leather benches in the equipment room, as Ursula psyched herself up.

“I imagine that’s a rather prudent course of action,” said Ursula. That was her ready to go.

“Oh, I agree,” said Marina. “The less government knows the better, in most situations. Freda prefers humanity to technologically advance on its own. It’s been a long time since I fit into a skin-tight suit. Struggling to breathe?” Marina was in her sixties now, and rather rounded after four decades of working for Section 51. Long hours and living in-house had done little for healthy eating.

“Just a bit,” laughed Ursula.

“I asked Freda once why we couldn’t design a wonder drug for obesity,” said Marina.

“What did she say?” asked Ursula, curious.

“That the human biological system wasn’t the problem, but rather what we ate,” laughed Marina. “My vice—cake and tea. Lots of it, particularly the cake.”

“Sounds about right,” she agreed. “The problem with society for the past hundred years is that people don’t act—they wait for a cure or new breakthrough to happen.” Ursula stepped in front of a mirror. “Rather interesting design.”

“It is,” agreed Marina. “There is a panic button as well.”

“Panic button?”

Marin pointed to a small button under a flap on the right arm of the suit.

“When you press that, it will emit a deafening pulse,” said Marina. “Stuns most within twenty meters.”

Marina’s pager bleeped.

“Your jet is waiting,” said Marina. “It’s time to go.”

Ursula nodded and took a deep breath—time to get this show on the road. She had dived into warzones before, but this was different.

“Wait,” said Marina. “One last thing.”

She went to a black cupboard, unlocking it with an old-fashioned key. Inside—a row of perfectly maintained long black military coats, designed for women. She lifted one out, removing the red hanger.

“Here.”

She slipped it on Ursula, and it was a perfect fit.

“Nice touch,” said Ursula. She always felt strange when not in a white lab coat, so this helped.

“Shall we go?”

“Yes,” said Marina.

They left the equipment room, Marina leading the way.

“I wanted to use the big girl, but Christopher’s unsure how she’d perform. You’ll fly to Japan, and from there, to Beijing.”

“Who’s the big girl?” said Ursula, curious.

A robot caught up with them, black and silver in appearance, offering coffee.

They both took a cup, heading up to ground level; it was super strong and extra sweet.

“Oh, let’s not bother with her now,” said Marina, winking.

The elevator took them straight up to ground level, and now they stood facing a set of locked thick steel doors.

“You ready for this?” said Marina.

“I am,” said Ursula, clenching her fists. “Open the doors.”