Plague of the Dead (11 page)

    “Barker!” yelled General Sherman, hanging on to the back of Brewster’s truck.

    “Go!” Barker retorted, pulling himself to his knees. He reached a hand up to his face. His cheek was terribly lacerated and his nose was not much better. “Get out of here! I’m infected!”

    “We can try to stop it!” Sherman called out, beckoning with his arm for Barker to hurry to the truck.

    “No!” Barker replied, reaching down to his pistol belt. He pulled a grenade free and held it up so Sherman could see it.

    Sherman’s face went blank for a moment. He nodded grimly, then swung himself up into the truck, pulling the flap closed behind him.

    “
Godspeed, General
,” Barker breathed, watching the truck begin to move off into the desert.

    He was the last soldier standing at Suez base.

    He pulled himself to his feet and turned to face the carriers.

    There were hundreds gathered in the base proper now. They were staring at Barker with undisguised hatred in what was left of their fevered eyes. They issued guttural growls, murmured challenges to the final human combatant.

    “Alright, you bastards,” Barker hissed. “You want me? Then come and take me.”

    The carriers roared, covering the distance between themselves and the commander within seconds. As they pulled him to the ground, Barker yanked the pin on the grenade in his hands.

    Before the white blinding flash took Barker away, he heard himself laughing.

PART FIVE: BLAZE

Washington, D.C.

January 8, 2007

1234 hrs_

    “THIS IS CHANNEL Thirteen News, bringing you around-the-clock updates on the crisis situation in the Middle East. Here’s news anchorwoman, Julie Ortiz!”

    Julie smiled into the camera lens.

    “Good afternoon, I’m Julie Ortiz, thanks for joining us. Our top story today-do the dead walk? The information that was leaked to the press anonymously yesterday says that they do; a morbid side-effect of the Morningstar Strain. Government officials have vehemently denied this allegation, calling it ‘
blatantly false
,’ and that it was likely to ‘
cause undue panic and speculation
.’ Congress has also called for a bipartisan commission to investigate the leak, which is believed by the FBI to have originated from right here, in Washington.”

    Julie glanced down at her notes before continuing.

    “The public reaction to the news was both swift and widely varied. Religious groups gathered in their respective places of worship, and some said that if the reports were true, that the Apocalypse had arrived. Many families have begun stocking up on various food supplies, and grocery stores nationwide are reporting shortages of necessities such as sugar, flour, and canned products. Still, a vast majority of Americans have expressed disbelief in such a report. Should we be taking this report seriously?”

    Julie glanced off-camera for a moment to get a thumbs-up from her supervisor, then turned back to the camera.

    “Tonight Channel Thirteen hosts Central Intelligence Agency chief Tim Daley, and Dr. Vladimir Peshnikov, a respected virologist best known for his work in the treatment of malaria. Gentlemen, welcome. We hope your insights tonight will be helpful.”

    A pair of dour faces appeared over Julie’s shoulders on the inset. Daley was middle-aged, and had a hard look about him, like the kind of man who was used to giving orders rather than taking them. Peshnikov was a bit less intimidating behind his glasses and thick black moustache.

    “Thanks for having me, Julie,” growled Daley.

    “Good afternoon,” said Peshnikov.

    “Gentlemen, let me first ask you what your initial reactions are to the allegation that the dead are reawakening in Africa and the Middle East,” Julie began, shuffling her notes.

    “Well, I can answer that one,” Daley said. “It’s manure. Crap. This is not the kind of stuff you expect to hear your fellow Americans saying in the middle of a crisis. We have no delusions about this disease-it’s dangerous. But it’s not bringing the dead back to life! Why, that’s blasphemy at its worst. God-fearing American citizens know in their hearts that there is no way in this universe the dead can somehow magically wake up-”

    “Perhaps you are being too hasty, Mr. Daley,” interrupted Peshnikov. “I was cynical as well, but my research has shown-”

    “Oh, you scientists are always touting this research or that research and it never gets anyone anywhere. The dead are dead. It’s not that hard of a concept to figure out,” Daley responded with more than a hint of disdain in his voice.

    “As I was saying,” went on Peshnikov, “My research has shown that an organism can die, whereas parts of it continue to live. It is entirely possible that the creatures described in the leaked information are not reanimated humans at all, merely their bodies.”

    “Oh, that’s helpful,” snorted Daley.

    “The allegation states that those infected by the Morningstar Strain are driven or compelled to spread the disease,” Julie said quickly, before her guests erupted into a full-scale argument. “Do either of you believe that these reports of undead bodies may be directly related to the virus?”

    “Of course,” Peshnikov said before Daley could respond. “I see no other discernable connection between the two factors. Information such as this had never been reported before the outbreak of the Morningstar Strain. It is difficult not to see that the two are connected.”

    “Now wait a second,” Daley said. “We haven’t even established that this dead-bodies-rising thing is true or false yet, and you’re already talking as if it is.”

    “Considering the new and vicious nature of our foe, Mr. Daley, I would be hesitant to deny new data offhand as it arrives simply because it conflicts with my religious views.”

    “The dead don’t rise from the grave!” Daley shouted. “It’s fiction.”

    “So you do not believe there is a connection between the virus and these allegations, Mr. Daley?” Julie asked.

    “No. Well, it’s possible,” Daley said. “I don’t know for sure either way.”

    “That’s very scientific of you, Mr. Daley,” sniped Peshnikov.

    “What we need now more than ever is a sense of who we are, and what we stand for,” Daley said. “We don’t need to have mumbo-jumbo shoved down our throats at this time. We don’t need to be talking about these godforsaken ideas of zombies and undead bodies walking around. What we
do
need is to come together as a nation and combat this threat through proper education and preparedness, so if this disease
does
hit America, we’ll be ready in plenty of time.”

    “We may no longer have the luxury of time, Mr. Daley. Epidemics on this scale are rarely predictable,” Peshnikov said. “What needs to be done is to understand the virus rather than running around making preparations we may, in the end, not even need to make. What if we issue protective garments to the citizens of this nation only to find that the disease is airborne?”

    “But it’s not airborne,” Mr. Daley said.

    “Yes, I know. It was merely an example.”

    “So, Mr. Daley,” Julie said, “You believe that preparedness should be number one on America’s list of priorities?”

    “Yes. We have to be ready to stand and deliver if that virus finds its way across our borders.”

    “You have no understanding of the virus. How can you claim to be able to properly prepare
anything
, much less an entire nation?” asked Peshnikov.

    “All I know is that we must take steps to preserve our lives and the lives of our children, not spread panic with blasphemous stories!”

    “How trite a response-”

    “Listen, you commie bastard!”

    The insets of the two men vanished and Julie composed her expression. She said, “We’ll be returning to the debate momentarily. Afterwards, Trent Dennison will take a look at the district’s falling crime rate. We’ll take a break, and return in a moment.”

    A moment later Jim the cameraman flashed her the all-clear signal. She relaxed, leaning back in her chair.

    “Man,” Jim said, letting the camera fall slack on the tripod, “Those guys sure got heated!”

    “What do you expect?” Julie replied. “The world across the Atlantic is falling apart. They’re getting spooked.”

    “What do you think about this zombie thing?” Jim asked. “I mean, now that we’ve heard the opinions of the experts.”

    He said it with enough veiled sarcasm to bring a smile to Julie’s face.

    “I don’t know,” she said after a moment. “Something tells me there’s a grain of truth to it.”

    “Makes you wonder who had the guts to leak that kind of information-”

    “Miss Julie Ortiz?” came a voice.

    “Yes?” Julie said, blinking back the bright lights of the set. She couldn’t make out her addresser.

    A moment later the men-three of them-stepped forward into the light. Jim cast them a nervous glance. The three were immaculately attired in dark suits. Julie knew what was coming next before it even happened.

    The leader of the group pulled out a badge and flashed it in front of her eyes.

    “I’m Special Agent Sawyer, these are Agents Mason and Derrick, FBI.”

    “And?” Julie asked.

    “You’re under arrest, Ms. Ortiz.”

    “Wait a second,” Jim said, stepping forward. “Why? What for? She’s been right here for hours!”

    “The charge is treason,” said Sawyer. “And if you don’t move back, we’ll arrest you, too-for
obstruction
.”

    “Let me go, Jim,” Julie said, standing. “I had a feeling these guys would be here sooner or later.”

1345 hrs _

    Julie was once again in front of the bright lights. This time, however, she was not on a set. She was handcuffed to a chair in a dim interrogation room.
Dim
was a relative term-it was dark everywhere in the room except for the bright triangle of illumination cast from the spotlight that was tilted directly into Julie’s eyes. She tried to squint, to see around it into the murky darkness, but failed. She knew she wasn’t alone. She could hear murmuring voices behind the light, shuffling papers, and soft footsteps.

    Finally, the light was tilted up sharply and out of her eyes. She found herself face-to-face with Special Agent Sawyer, who was holding a manila envelope. Julie recognized it immediately as the one she had been given by Dr. Demilio, but forced herself to block that thought out of her mind.

    “Well, Miss Ortiz, seems you’ve been a busy little bee lately,” he said, unwinding the string that bound the envelope tab. He slowly upended the envelope onto the floor. Photos and documents spilled out and scattered. “We knew you used to be an investigative reporter, but we never guessed you’d be the kind that would sell out her own country.”

    He rested his foot on the lower rung of the chair Julie was bound to and leaned in very close to her face.

    “You’re in one hell of a shitpile, Miss Ortiz,” he snarled, baring his teeth. “What you do now will help decide how clean you are when you finally get out from under it. Understand?”

    She fixed him with a calm gaze. “I understand that this is the part where I call my lawyer.”

    Sawyer’s snarl faded into a grin and he stepped back, folding his arms and casting a sideways glance at the other men in the room.

    “Did you hear that? She thinks she gets a lawyer,” Sawyer chuckled. Julie could hear muffled laughter from the other agents. Sawyer looked back at her. “I’m not sure you really understand your position, Miss Ortiz. Let me enlighten you-and I’ll be sure to explain it in simple terms so I can be certain you’ll understand.”

    Sawyer walked to the back of the room, behind Julie and out of her field of view. She heard shuffling papers. Sawyer reappeared over her shoulder, thrusting a folder in front of her eyes. It was unassuming and plain, except for a small orange tab in the corner.

    “Do you know what this is, Miss Ortiz? It’s a top secret document. That means it’s classified. That means that your average Joe on the street is to know nothing-
nothing
-about what is inside this folder.” At this point he pulled a second metal chair away from a table near the wall. It grated harshly along the concrete floors. Sawyer turned it backwards and sat down, looking at the folder in his hands. “When someone tells Joe what’s inside one of these folders, we don’t like it. We don’t like it at all. You
told
, Miss Ortiz. You told Joe. And that, my dear, is when
this
-” (Here he held up the folder,) “-turns into something else entirely.”

    Without warning he wound his arm up and viciously backhanded Julie. She cried out, mouth hanging open in shock. Her calm gaze changed into one of fear, and a bit of blood slowly trickled from her lower lip.

    “Pain, Miss Ortiz,” Sawyer said, dropping the folder. “It turns into pain. At our hands. But don’t get me wrong, Miss Ortiz. We’re not sadists. We don’t like seeing you in pain, even if you betrayed your fellow Americans. All we ask is that you tell us how you got these documents, and this can end before it even begins. Of course, we won’t be able to let you go free, but a cell is much better than this room. And much less hazardous to your well-being.”

    Julie licked the blood from her lip. The coppery taste spread across her palate, as sickening and alluring as the agent’s offer. The thought of turning in Dr. Demilio was quickly banished from her mind.

    “My sources are protected by law-” she began.

    Sawyer backhanded her a second time, then a third. This time Julie didn’t cry out. She had been expecting it. She was no less fazed by these attacks than by the first one, however, and her vision swam as she tried to shake off the pain.

    “We are the law, Miss Ortiz. Don’t fuck with us,” Sawyer said, voice going hard. “You’ve only been getting my good side. Don’t make me show you the bad. I’ll ask one final time-who gave you the information about the Morningstar Strain?”