The White Death (29 page)

“How?”

Richards turned around slowly, his arms firmed held behind his back.

“We kill the infection dead,” said Kramer.

Vanessa was right, and for Thomas that was the hardest part. If he didn’t take action now, everything he had wrestled with and done would mean nothing. He’d killed his own countrymen in this war.

“Japan must go,” said Richards.

“Is it right for me to continue killing millions just to save ourselves? Who are we even trying to kid? Maybe we should just all go out together.”

“I don’t understand,” said Richards.

“I feel like a war criminal.”

“We’re all guilty of that,” said Richards. “No one’s innocent now. No matter what way you look at this, Japan has become a threat to our national security. The South American countries are only respecting us at the minute because we’re doing the hard stuff.”

“The moment we stop, they’ll start causing trouble.”

“Yes,” said Richards. “And we really don’t need that now. Japan has to go.”

“It has to go,” agreed Thomas. “Bring everyone back in.”

“Sir, the Japanese are planning to bomb the military installation where infection occurred, but it’ll be too late,” said Kramer, leading them back in. “Japanese ministers are already telling their citizens to run to America.”

“What? What about the Japanese prime minister?”

“Not returning our calls,” said Kramer.

“Madame Secretaries, what are your views on a total nuclear strike of Japan and her outlying islands?”

“I made no secret of my hostility toward the New York bombing,” said Kilmoran. “But if we can do that on our own, then I won’t fight you on this.”

“So you’re in?” said Thomas.

“Only if it’s a total strike,” said Kilmoran. “This needs to be done right, if we decide we’re going to do it at all.”

“I agree,” said Kramer. “We haven’t come this far to stumble now.”

“I have your agreement then,” said Thomas.

They agreed, with Richards looking on.

“Sir, the Secretary of the Environment is demanding to see you,” said Gail on the intercom.

“Hold her off,” said Thomas. He wanted to get this finalized now, fearing his heart would win the war with his mind. It pulled him more toward the middle ground, to a dangerous wait-and-see policy. As if reading his thoughts, Richards stepped forward.

“Mr. President, the last three world wars happened because politicians decided to wait and see. They allowed tyrants and dictators to cross their so-called red lines, time after time. Don’t make that mistake now, sir. We can’t save Japan, but we can save America.”

“Out of my way,” shouted the Secretary for the Environment, Dr. Deanna Millar, as she sidestepped Gail and strode into the Oval Office.

“Madame Secretary, I ordered you to wait outside,” said Thomas.

“This can’t wait,” said Millar. Everyone stopped to stare. “Are you planning a nuclear attack?”

“Yes,” said Thomas. “The last thing on my mind at the minute is climate change. Japan has fallen to infection.”

He tapped his finger on the desk a few times, emphasizing his point.

“Mr. President, you cannot,” said Millar. “I just had an emergency meeting with the NOAA.”

“General, begin immediate…”

“Listen,” shouted Millar. “If one more nuclear explosion goes off, it’ll push us into a nuclear winter.”

“A what?” he asked. Richards’ head spun around so fast, Thomas thought his neck would snap.

“The most recent nuclear explosions have caused the real problems,” said Millar. She unraveled a paper map of Asia and the Middle East. “Each red dot represents the point of a nuclear explosion within the past three days. Each city hit”—she pointed at Novokuznetsk, a Russian city on the border with China—“is now burning.”

“Meaning what exactly?” said Thomas.

“Nuclear firestorms, spewing millions of tons of soot into our atmosphere. It’s blocking out the sunlight, leading to a cooling effect, which will affect the whole planet. We won’t be able to grow crops, there’ll be food riots, bitter winters—a new ice age!” She took a deep breath. “If you launch a full-scale attack on Japan, you will push the planet downwards, with no brakes. We can’t survive a nuclear winter.”

“Are we detecting cooling already?” asked Kramer.

“Yes,” said Millar. “That’s what’s so frightening. We’ve ripped our atmosphere apart.”

“How long would a nuclear winter last?” said Kramer. “If we can plan for it…”

Thomas looked at Millar, who shrieked in disbelief.

“Fifteen, maybe twenty years,” said Millar. “No government can plan for that in such a short amount of time. With everything else that has happened, no one will survive.”

“So we decide between the virus or a nuclear winter,” said Kramer. “How can you pick between the two?”

“This virus is the more immediate threat,” said Kilmoran. “Let’s drop the hopes for a moment here. We all know we’re on borrowed time as it is. The virus could breach our defenses any second now, and we can kiss the human race goodbye.”

“You cannot launch those missiles,” said Millar.

“And you can’t let Japan threaten our existence,” said Richards.

Thomas wanted all of them to shut up. He’d been made very aware of the decision he faced.

“Can anyone give me a third option?”

No one replied. He didn’t seem to have much luck when asking that.

“General,” said Thomas, “begin preparations for an immediate nuclear and conventional strike on Japan.”

“I must advise against this,” said Richards.

“Noted,” said Thomas. “Deanna, if I decide to launch a nuclear strike, the government is going to need some kind of plan for afterwards in case this nuclear winter does happen.”

“We don’t have much.”

“Then make some,” demanded Thomas. “That’s your job. Do it or quit.”

She and Richards left, both on their cell phones with staff hurrying behind them.

“Vanessa,” he said to his Secretary of State. He got up and walked to the window, wanting to stretch his legs as his office quieted down.

“Tough day, sir,” she said.

“What an understatement,” he replied. “What’s your advice?”

Kramer stayed quiet until he turned to look at her.

“If that virus breaches our borders, we’ll have lost everything,” she said. “A nuclear winter, we might survive. The virus, we can’t.”

“So hit them,” said Thomas.

“Yes,” she replied. “Hit them now. Let history be our judge.”

Thomas took a deep breath.

“May our children forgive us.”

She left, taking to her phone, and Thomas stood stoically for a moment, considering the events of the past few days. Sighing, he picked up his phone and placed a call.

“George.”

“Yes, Mr. President?”

“I am planning to address the nation in the next two hours, but before that happens I want Bloodworth and Hashcroft arrested.”

“Arrested?”

Thomas considered his words carefully. “I want her silenced.”

“We can do that,” said Houston. “It’ll cause a firestorm, but we’ll make it happen.”

“Do whatever you need to. Your goal is to maintain order. Everything else for you is secondary now.”

A half hour passed, and Thomas had gone to the Red Room to escape the Oval Office for just a few minutes. It was almost impossible to hear his own thoughts now, and it was easier to come here than order everyone out of his own office. The Red Room was stunningly old-fashioned, exuding an elegance and grace from an era that had long since passed. Warm high back chairs, red and gold in color, welcomed him.

He opened the memo Gail had handed him on his way there. It was from Peter Roberts. His tired eyes strained to read the fine print. Roberts was begging him for more time to find a cure—don’t kill millions of people if they can be saved. Thomas reread the memo before folding it up.

Someone knocked at the door, and each tap felt like a blow to his head.

“Sir…”

Even Gail looked nervous now. To anyone else, he could hide the strain, but she would never fall for it. She knew he was very close to breaking.

He looked up at her.

“It’s General Richards.” She handed him a phone, then left.

“General,” said Thomas. He had switched back into president mode.

“We have seventeen civilian aircraft departing Tokyo with a destination of our West Coast. Permission to engage?”

“Have we told them to turn around?”

“They aren’t listening,” said Richards.

“Then permission granted,” said Thomas, holding the memo tighter.

He had taken the first steps already to war with Japan. Those commercial airliners were heading to America for safety. Little did they know American warplanes were racing out to meet them.

He scrunched up the memo from Peter, letting it fall to the floor.

“You have your answer, Dr. Roberts.”

Chapter 56

Claire Bloodworth stood tall and defiant behind a podium worthy of a president. She addressed the 50,000-strong crowd in Los Angeles with gusto and fury. The rain and wind hadn’t deterred a public on the brink of anarchy. It was near midnight on Saturday, the massive floodlights of the supersized stadium doing nothing to pull people from the dark deep mood of rebellion.

“Local police tried to stop our rally tonight,” she thundered to the crowd, arms waving. “But we stopped them. We walked past their barricades and we showed our government we do not fear them.”

The crowd cheered and clapped.

“Our country is failing!” she shouted. “We are even launching nuclear attacks on our own people now. Anyone who thinks war hasn’t reached our shores is stupid. Millions of Americans died in one single attack, authorized by our own president.”

“Revolution,” shouted a protestor from the front line.

“He’s right,” she said, cameras showing him on the projector screens. “Our government is corrupt, rotting away at the center. Only revolution can save our race.”

People stamped their feet, held hands, shouted, and clapped some more. The energy was reaching fever pitch. She peeled her soaked hair from her face, catching a breath.

“Hashcroft and his supporters would have every sick and disabled person rounded up and executed. We can’t let that happen. The revolution begins here.”

Roars of approval made their way up to the podium, and she knew the crowd was feasting from the palm of her hand.

“We must first march on City Hall and demand the resignation of our Republican mayor. Once people see us taking a stand, they’ll join us!”

As she ranted on to a crowd that treated every word she said as sacred, FBI agents lurked in the shadows, waiting for their opportunity to pounce.

“March to City Hall,” ordered Bloodworth. “We can let nothing stop us now.”

Just as she prepared her final saber-rattling words, combat helicopters and jets roared past them and into the distance. Soon enough, the sound of gunfire and explosions came from a nearby military training base.

Bloodworth tried to retain some control over her followers.

“Get ready to move,” said Agent Bradley. He had agents dispersed throughout the crowd, who began shooting to cause panic. The team around him casually made their way closer to Bloodworth and her supporters onstage as the masses saw more explosions in the distance, panicking.

“What about those around her onstage?” asked another agent through the earpiece.

“Senior staff as well,” confirmed Bradley. “This comes directly from the director himself.”

“Ready when you give the word.”

Bradley aimed his gun and fired.

Chapter 57

“Christopher!” shouted Peter, firing the door open in a panic. “We need to talk.”

Christopher held his hands up. “Calm down, Peter.” He’d just finished a late evening meal. Sunday passed by with frantic activity in Washington. It looked like Japan might have been able to stop infection with bombs, but the virus proved as tenacious as ever. After a few hours, it was back with a vengeance. City after city fell, with Washington and Tokyo declaring a war of words with each other over the United States’ decision to contain the Japanese peninsula. In Section 51, though, everything was quiet. They still hadn’t made any connection with Ursula, and Christopher could only hope now for some kind of intervention from the Council, even if it did come with sterilization.

“I finally got a connection with Ursula,” he said. “But only for a few seconds.”

“Go on.”

“She was talking so fast,” said Peter, talking quickly himself. Christopher tried to slow him down, but nothing was working. “She says everything is starting to piece together down there, and she’s discovered something.”

“What did she discover?” asked Christopher. He felt electrified with the news, giving himself a much-needed jolt in spirits.

“She didn’t get time to finish the sentence,” shouted Peter.

“Dammit!” roared Christopher. He fired a bunch of folders across the room.

“But she did mention one word. Rabies.”

“Rabies?” said Christopher. “That doesn’t make any sense.”

“There’s something else,” said Peter.

“Go on.”

“Ambassador Kilroy was a carrier, as is Captain Rodgers and the woman in China. I think Barrington is ever so close to a vaccine.”

“Get the connection reestablished then!”

“Beijing has gone dark. Their power plants are shutting down.”

Christopher listened to Peter rant on, trying to think of solutions.

“I know what I heard. Any vaccine will die with her. That means we lose this war.”

“But has she discovered a vaccine?” asked Christopher.

“She was close.”

“Truthfully?”

“Truthfully,” said Peter. “And I can’t do it without her. If she has a vaccine, we can save Japan and stop a nuclear winter.”

Christopher was about to tell Peter just how impossible it was when a message from the Council appeared on the large wall screen. It was Loretta, in all her authoritative glory.

“This is an official recording. This Council plans to proceed with sterilization tomorrow morning, Monday, at 9:00 A.M.”

The video feed cut out just as quick, leaving them stunned.

“After everything, they’re still going ahead with it,” said Peter.

Christopher never doubted that. Loretta would see this through to the end.

“It’s time to bring her home, Christopher. We need that vaccine. I don’t want to be responsible for the destruction of the human race.”

Christopher looked at him and saw a glimpse of the young bright-eyed scientist that had come here twenty years ago. They’d all aged, except Marina, with the stress of running Section 51. It certainly wasn’t for the faint of heart.

“Peter, even if I could, we’d never get a helicopter or jet out here. Everything’s been pulled to the West Coast, readying for battle. Richards confirmed as much with me before you came in.”

Peter raised an eyebrow.

“That’s unproven technology,” said Christopher, knowing exactly what he was thinking.

“Exactly,” said Peter. “What have we really got to lose? One more mission doesn’t sound too bad.”

Christopher felt a small grin break across his face. It had been a long time since they’d been on an “adventure,” as they called them. He lifted his phone, instructing the secretaries to have Marina report to his office immediately.

“Peter, what kind of resistance can we…?”

The door fired opened again with a loud bang, this time with Marina charging up to him.

“Christopher, I shall not stand silent any longer. We must go and rescue that British woman,” she demanded, hands on her hips. She was already dressed in a long black leather military coat, red gloves, and a utility belt. She looked like a commando ready for battle.

“Well, as I was trying…” said Christopher.

“I will not stand here while that woman puts her life on the line to protect this planet. Now, if neither of you will come with me, here’s what I need.”

“Marina, I actually just…”

“Three staff who can shoot, a helicopter, explosives, a missile launcher, and perhaps a JCB digger, but I’m sure we can acquire that in China.”

“Marina,” said Christopher loudly. “I was just calling for you.”

She was probably the only person Christopher would allow to disregard protocol and authority. Marina tended to operate on more basic principles of right and wrong. On occasion, those principles had saved Section 51 from moral destitution. Freda had held her in very high regard.

“For?” asked Marina, confused. “Listen, if you’re going to go off on me about that spat in the canteen earlier, he deserved it. I will not apologize!”

“MARINA! We have lost all contact with Dr. Barrington. Peter feels she was nearing a breakthrough. If she dies, then any hope we have of a silver lining dies with her. It’s time to mount a rescue operation. I want that vaccine.”

“Christopher, why didn’t you just say that?” she replied, rolling her eyes. “Well, gentlemen, what are we all standing around for?” She turned on her heels and marched out. Christopher grabbed his coat, trying to keep up.

“Damn, it feels good to be back in action,” he said. He felt alive not stuck behind a desk anymore, even with his walking stick. Richards would be furious, but he had enough to deal with, and they needed the vaccine. If they rescued Barrington in the process, it would be a beautiful reward. Besides, he was pretty darn sure Richards wasn’t going to have him imprisoned.

“Back to normal,” agreed Peter. Section 51 had been relatively quiet this past decade. “How will we get there?”

“Marina, time to bring out Bertha.”

“I thought you’d never ask. I’ll have her loaded up and ready in five minutes. Throw on some body armor and meet me outside ASAP.” She boarded the elevator, heading up to ground level.

“George, I’ll take it from here,” she said on the runway.

“Yes, ma’am.” He hopped out of Bertha, running back to the shelter. The arid Nevada desert never failed to test even the most battle-hardened of people.

“Bertha. Recognize voice pattern Marina.”

“Marina recognized, welcome aboard.” Marina had spent months perfecting the onboard computer voice, VIX, to the perfect professional yet sexy female voice.

“VIX, activate advanced piloting software. I shall be piloting alone but will need maximum efficiency.”

“Software loading.”

“Marina, have you arranged air passage across the Pacific Ocean and Japan?” asked Christopher, Peter helping him onboard. They strapped themselves in tightly—Marina had a reputation as a highly aggressive pilot.

“All confirmed. Used the Section 51 governmental authorization codes,” she replied. “We are technically operating within our purview anyway.”

“That’s a great stretch of a technicality,” said Peter. “A lot of Japanese are going to see us as the enemy now.”

“True,” said Christopher. “We aren’t letting them leave that island.”

“Has war been declared?” said Peter.

“All but legally.”

“We’ll deal with the legal issues later,” said Marina. “Taking us up!”

Bertha, a mighty black chopper designed exclusively by and for Section 51, shot into the air. It had no markings, allowing it to operate anywhere in the world. Powered with a micro-nuclear reactor, it was the only one of its kind. It could travel the world twelve times over before having to refuel. Marina fired the thruster levers forward, and Bertha picked up speed fast.

“What’s the status of New York?” asked Peter. The helicopter was exceptionally quiet inside the cabin areas.

“There’s nothing left, and I mean nothing. They used a nuclear device Section 51 enhanced back in the 1980s.”

“That was the B41s if I’m not mistaken?” asked Peter. He had studied previous Section 51 operations.

“Yes,” replied Christopher. He opened a bar of caramel chocolate and tucked in, not remembering the last time he ate. “The government is sending in specialist teams to assess if any infected were able to escape, but I doubt it. The explosion covered an area fifty percent greater than the area of projected infection. Every precaution was taken.”

“How did that ambassador end up there in the first place?” Peter took a chunk of the gooey sweet offered by Christopher.

“Apparently when he got to Japan, the Japanese wanted to quarantine him, but considering he had shown no signs of infection, they didn’t bother. We didn’t know enough about the virus back then, or that there could be carriers. His armed protection team contacted the State Department, who arranged for his transport back to the States. Everyone was sure he was infection-free.”

“Surely our State Department would have thought twice before bringing him back on American soil?” said Peter. “Without medical checks? Anything?”

“Some idiot at the State Department thought they were talking about their ambassador stationed in Japan. Anyway, he was flown out on a private jet soon afterwards to New York.”

“What about his security detail?”

“Left in Japan to help bolster our own forces there,” said Christopher. “Even the jet the ambassador flew on to New York never left the city afterwards, with all the flight cancellations.”

“Christopher, could it be possible that we infected Japan? Either the ambassador or Captain Rodgers?” Peter hated to think America might have doomed an entire country without knowing.

“I can’t answer that.”

Peter looked out the window. “Nothing would shock me now.”

“Freda returning would.” Christopher peered down at the dark deep ocean below them. “She’s gone. I just hope she went of her own accord.”

“Wouldn’t that be worse?” asked Peter.

“She was like a sister to me. If she felt she had to go, then it was for the right reasons. Knowing Freda, it was probably to help us in some way. We just haven’t realized how yet, but maybe Dr. Barrington is about to shed some light on that.” After talking some more, Christopher picked up his computer tablet and began accessing the latest email bulletins, while Peter continued to try to contact Ursula. Soon enough, they were crossing into Japan and could see land below them.

“Just what I feared,” he said.

“What?” asked Peter.

“The Japanese government has told its people to flee to America and set their armed forces against us.” Christopher had feared flying over a warzone.

Japanese and American naval and air forces were engaged in battle across the isolated island. They could see sinking ships from both sides, along with fierce air battles in the skies. Helicopters flew out to sea, being shot down by U.S. naval fighters.  Christopher could see the USS
Gerald Ford
, one of the behemoth aircraft carriers of the United States, floating just off shore. She was surrounded by destroyers, cruisers, and fighters. The battle raged on around her. A few missiles tried to get past her defense guns but failed.

“Our military is trying to hold back the infection as long as possible,” said Christopher, skim-reading another email report. “They’re having some luck, but only in delaying the inevitable.”

“Marina, how long until we enter Chinese airspace?” Christopher knew every minute that passed increased the chances of them failing.

“About ten minutes. I’m getting ready to reactivate our primary propulsion system,” replied Marina. Bertha’s speed increased, with two more auxiliary engines activating, and Peter tightened his seatbelt.

“I see you’ve never heard of Marina’s unique flying abilities.”

“Heard of? Yes. Experienced? No,” said Peter.

“I heard that,” she remarked.

“What the hell was that?” shouted Peter as a stream of bullets flew past his window, nearly grazing the light armor.

“Report,” said Christopher.

“Japanese fighter choppers.”

“Hail them and correct the situation.”

“This is Commander Marina Black of the United States of America. Authorization code Delta Charlie Echo Fiver Niner. Cease firing immediately.”

“Negative, pilot,” said the Japanese pilot.

“We are on a mission to recover a possible vaccine for the virus,” said Marina.

“We don’t have time for this,” said Peter.

“Agreed,” said Christopher. “Marina, I expect to be in China as soon as possible.”

“Understood. VIX, red alert.”

“Activating defensive systems,” said VIX. Bertha was no ordinary chopper, and these Japanese fighter aircraft were about to witness why firsthand. Thick, charcoal-colored armor began covering the entire helicopter, including the blades. The armor was experimental, and Section 51 designed it to be as tough as that used on America’s mighty aircraft carriers. The forward chopper windows were shielded in a lighter, slightly transparent armor to still provide the pilot with a basic view ahead, instead of relying solely on sensors.

“VIX, evasive maneuvers. Scan attacking objects.”

Bertha began flying left, right, up, and down, as advanced piloting was employed by VIX and Marina in tandem.

“Scanning.” The advanced sensor array could automatically detect the different operating components of an attacking vessel, identifying weak points for precision attacking.

“Two Boeing AH-64 Apache Helicopters. Second class,” said VIX.

“VIX, I want to disable but not destroy them. Prepare to attack and allow for a high chance of safe landing.”

“Calculating.” Two latches opened at the rear of Bertha to reveal red fierce-looking machine guns.

“VIX, fire when ready.”

“Firing.” The two machine guns fired small high-velocity bullets. The Japanese helicopter weapons were quickly destroyed, and small internal fires caused havoc for the pilot. They broke off pursuit and headed downwards in a spiral.

“Attacking aircraft are retreating,” said VIX.

“Good, activate emergency propulsion systems. Throw everything we have into our speed,” ordered Marina. Two exhaust pipes appeared from small gaps in the rear of the chopper, blasting super-heated fuel.

“ETA?” shouted Christopher as the noise from all the extra speed penetrated the cabin. He shook about, despite being strapped in tightly.

“Less than ten minutes,” she shouted. “We’re crossing what’s left of Korea.”

Christopher and Peter pulled the blinds up in the cabin, and the armor became completely transparent. All they saw was black, charred wasteland devoid of any form of life. American bombers had certainly been effective in destroying everything.  Only skeletons remained of once-tall, strong buildings and towering skyscrapers.

“Incoming missile,” said VIX.

“Origin?” asked Marina.

“USS
Howard
. United States Navy Advanced Destroyer. Type 52.”

“Here we go again, guys,” she shouted. Christopher pulled the blinds back down, allowing the armor to revert to full strength. Marina began advanced evasive piloting.

“VIX, target that incoming missile and launch countermeasures.” A small missile shot out from the side of Bertha. Instead of aiming to confuse the incoming missile, it headed straight for it. Seconds later, they impacted with a large fireball.

“The threat has been neutralized, and we’re now out of attack range.” Marina pulled the main altitude lever toward her, and Bertha began ascending.