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Authors: John O'Brien

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BOOK: ARES Virus: Arctic Storm
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That was close
, she thinks, quietly getting bowls and making cereal for Carly and Angie.

Although she knows that the electricity works, she’s not going to cook anything for them because she’s afraid the smell might somehow give them away. Before the girls finish eating, Karen hears a helicopter in the distance, drawing closer.

“Wait here,” she tells her daughters, scrambling up from the table.

It’s about time
, she thinks, hesitant to open the front door.
The back…the back will be safer.

Aware that three people crossed their yard just a short while ago, she hesitantly ventures out. Her desire to be found and rescued outweighing her fear, she waves her arms madly. The helicopter flashes overhead without slowing or turning.

That was a military helicopter. At least, I think it was
.

The sight leads her to believe that things are far worse than she could have imagined, although she already imagined it was pretty bad. Feeling disappointed, but also glad to see some larger response, she returns inside.

Several more times during the day, she steps into the backyard when she hears the sound of a helicopter. Each time, she returns inside feeling frustrated. But, she tells herself that the fact that she’s seeing more activity means that a rescue is that much closer. Once, a pack of druggies raced through the streets shortly after a helicopter passed over, as if they were chasing it. Although the butcher knife is never far from her side, she was thankful that their attention was focused elsewhere: She didn’t know if she had it in her to deal with something like that again.

Throughout the day, she has to put off Carly’s constant questioning of where her dad is. Karen would like nothing more than for him to be here, but that isn’t the case and she has enough to be concerned about at the moment. Worry about him will come later, after she’s sure that her girls are safe. Finally working up the nerve to pick up her phone again, she finds that she can’t get a signal no matter where in the house she stands. With Angie, well, Angie goes through the motions and obeys, but hasn’t said a word since what happened in the basement.

A loud, high-pitched warbling sound comes out of nowhere and startles the three of them.

“What’s that, Mommy?” Carly asks.

“I don’t know,” Karen answers, going to the front window.

Cracking open the curtains, she peeks out. The noise seems to be coming from a couple of streets away, but she doesn’t see anything that could cause it. As she’s watching, groups of people begin appearing on the run, their mouths open although she can’t hear anything above the other sound. At the first sight of them, she slowly closes the drapes and confirms that the wedge remains in place under the front door.

“Into the bedroom,” she whispers upon returning to the girls.

Together, they creep down the hall, although with that awful noise going on, there’s no way that anyone outside can hear them. Closing the door and locking it, the three of them pile on to the bed. The noise seems to go on forever, nearly driving Karen crazy.

The first explosion takes Karen and the girls by surprise. The warbling sound vanishes, but more blasts follow on the heels of the first. The bed and walls shake from each one, the bedroom’s light fixture swaying. Another detonation and Karen hears the front window shatter.

“Into the basement,” Karen yells, terrified.

“But that man’s down there,” Carly states.

“Forget him. We need to get down there,” Karen yells, pushing the girls toward the door and grabbing a blanket.

In the basement, Karen throws the blanket over the broken door that is partially covering the mutilated corpse. Together, they huddle in a corner of the basement as the house shakes from a series of explosions. They jump as each blast rolls over them. The basement windows crack, then break. Then, silence.

The smell of smoke drifts in through the broken windows, and Karen hears the faint crackle of flames. Telling the girls to stay put, she edges toward the windows. The sound of a chainsaw coming in short bursts confuses her. Through the other noises, she can still hear shrieks, which then fade. Silence returns.

Karen tries peering through one of the shattered windows, but her range of sight is limited due to its proximity to the ground and the narrow casement. Smoke drifts along the street, but through it, all the windows of the houses she can see are broken. Several covered porches have tumbled into piles of lumber, shingles, and the torn remains of gutters. Debris is blown slowly down the street. This sight and the explosions baffle her.

Instead of a rescue, they’re bombing? That can’t be right. Maybe a gas main went up, or vehicle gas tanks exploded? But what was that beeping sound?
she thinks, staring across the wreckage.

More of the strange noises rise from greater distances. Smoke continues to roll down her street. She’s afraid of fire sweeping through the houses, but she’s even more afraid to go outside. Drawing away from the window, she resumes huddling in the corner with Carly and Angie.

The sound of distant explosions makes its way into the basement, but nothing near what they just went through. Carly and Angie are terrified. All that Karen can do is hold them close and tell them that everything is going to be okay, even though she’s no longer sure that’s true. Throughout the day, from every direction, the crashes of explosions continue.

The rumbling comes, at first no different than any of the others they’ve heard. Karen’s head snaps up as the explosions grow louder. The floor beneath her begins vibrating, then shaking. Dust falls from the beams overhead. Like a fast moving train, the thunderous roar grows in intensity. A crack materializes and runs up one of the concrete walls. The basement floor rises and lowers as if subterranean waves are passing through. A near blast blows clouds of smoke through the broken windows. The floor seems to lift, then slams back down.

“Mommy!” Carly yells.

Karen looks at each of her daughters, Carly’s eyes full of fear, Angie’s with a sense of calm—serenity.

“I love you both so much,” she says, holding them even tighter.

The blinding white flash isn’t even felt.

Chapter Eleven
 

Dallas, Texas

September 3

 

Sarah Hartley slides the apple pie from the oven, trying to keep the hot pan from burning her fingers yet again. With steam rising from the flaky crust, she sets it next to the other two already cooling on the counter. Sounds from the preseason football game drift faintly into the kitchen from the living room, along with the occasional not-so-faint “You have to be kidding me!” or “Are you brain dead?!” commentary from her husband, Bill. She smiles, thinking how she’s in for another three months of similar statements on the weekends.

“We now interrupt your regularly scheduled programming for a special presidential address,” a voice on the TV states.

“Oh, for fuck’s sake. Really? You have to do this now?” Bill replies.

Sarah dusts a few flakes of crust and flour from her apron and steps into the living room. The widescreen LED shows the presidential seal and then quickly switches to an image of the president sitting at his desk.

“My fellow Americans. Today is a sad day for all of us. Sometime yesterday, a massive outbreak of a deadly and virulent strain of rabies occurred in the town of Pineville. The spread was rapid and overwhelmed our first responders and law enforcement. The CDC sent medical personnel and quickly determined that a quarantine was necessary. Through their tireless efforts, the outbreak is in check. However, and this saddens me greatly, the outbreak overwhelmed much of the city’s population before anything could be done. The best we could do was comb the city and conduct rescue operations for those who managed to survive this catastrophe.

“The National Guard and other military units were brought in to aid local agencies, and through their heroic efforts, we were able to save some. The rescue operations were conducted throughout the day and night, the crews forgoing rest in order to get as many out as we could. It grieves me deeply to say this, but signs indicate that there aren’t any others remaining. I have therefore given the order to suspend further rescue operations.

“Given that we don’t have a current vaccine for this particular rabies strain, and given the virulent and persistent nature of it, under advisement from the CDC, I have also given the order to begin burning the city. We cannot afford the risk of this spreading to other parts of the country. The CDC will continue to research the cause of the outbreak and keep the area under quarantine so that we don’t have a repeat of this tragedy.

“I know you will have many questions. So do I, and we’ll work tirelessly to find the answers. Rest assured: We will get to the bottom of this. I also want to assure you, my fellow Americans, that this appears to be an isolated incident, and I urge you to not spread panic. When our teams of specialists have additional information, I will make sure that you are informed as well. Together, we will work through this tragedy and heal our nation.”

The screen then switches back to show the presidential seal, followed by the network news quickly making adjustments and coming online with several expert panels.

“The fuck?!” Bill exclaims as Sarah, her pies forgotten, stares numbly at the screen.

 

*
  
*
  
*
  
*
  
*
  
*
  
*

 

Outside of Pineville

September 3

 

Rising, Brown shuffles to the cave entrance, gazing to see the firelight flickering faintly off the rock walls near the corner. Taking a step outside, he looks to the interior, satisfied that no light can be seen outside of the cave. He returns inside far enough that his heat signature won’t be observed from outside, and sits to look out over the city.

Flames rise into the air in some parts of the distant town, the tips waving in a macabre dance. In other parts, smoldering fires cast glows against the walls of taller buildings that still stand. Smoke billows skyward, the undersides lit by the blazes below.

Brown watches several blinding flashes light up the night, the white hot flames of exploding propane tanks vanishing as quickly as they appear. The blasts are so devastating that he can see the shock waves rocket outward, the sharp sounds reaching the cave entrance seconds later. In other locations, similar blasts occur with roiling red, orange, and yellow flames visible through thick dark smoke. Flaming debris arcs over neighborhoods from exploding fuel tanks. Entire blocks are crushed flat from the devastating blasts. He’s watching a city being torn apart.

I’m glad we made it out before that shit started happening
, Brown thinks as Hayward and Clarke join him in his vigil.

“That’s really something, huh?” Hayward comments.

“Yeah, it’s something, all right,” Brown replies.

“So, what’s our plan?” Clarke asks, watching a sequence of explosions that rock one part of the city.

“Well, I figure they’re going to be pretty vigilant with regards to the perimeter they have set up, so we’ll stay put tomorrow. I’m sure we’ll be hearing a lot of helicopters combing the area, looking for any infected that have made their way outside the city. When I’m able, I’ll climb to the top of the hill to get a better view of what we’re up against. We have enough food and water to last us for a while, if necessary. My initial thought is to try and make our way through whatever cordon they have set up and return from the other side. That has its risks, both getting there and afterward,” Brown answers.

“I get the risk getting through the perimeter, but what do you mean by afterward?” Clarke asks.

“First, they have to believe whatever story we come up with. Looking at that,” Brown says, pointing toward the city, “there’s probably no one to counter our story, so that’s one point in our favor.”

“And if they don’t believe us?” Hayward queries.

Brown just answers with a shrug that is more felt than seen. “Quarantine at a minimum.”

“And worst case?” Hayward asks.

Brown answers with another shrug.

“I understand being put into a quarantine. That’s warranted, but surely they’d take us in.”

“Probably so,” Brown responds.

“What are our other choices?” Clarke questions.

“Well, there are four that I can immediately think of. I mentioned the first. The second is to hang here for a while, then signal for a rescue once everyone isn’t so trigger happy. That may mitigate the risk of being gunned down while trying to break through the perimeter, but we’ll be identified as having been within the city to begin with.”

“That sounds like it may be a better solution,” Hayward states.

“Maybe. That one is definitely a roll of the dice, as I mentioned. See, we’re already, or will be, listed with the dead within the city. There’s the chance that they may not want to take the risk of what happened getting out so they can tell their story without having anyone around to counter it. The shit that was released was pretty damn deadly. That, of course, suggests that the source had something to do with the government.”

“They wouldn’t do that!” Hayward exclaims, referring to the unstated connotation that they would be “silenced.”

“Maybe not, but it is within the realm of possibilities,” Brown replies.

“Okay, fair enough. That’s two. What are the others?” Hayward asks.

“We vanish,” Brown answers.

“Vanish? Like, just up and walk away? We can’t do that. It may be easy for you, but I have my parents and friends. We’d have to go off the grid and I don’t think that I want to do that—I’m not ready for something that extreme. I want a life. I didn’t ask for this.”

“None of us did, son. However, here we are nonetheless. Besides, I didn’t say that was the best option—just
an
option. The fourth option is that we explore that crack in the rock and see where it goes. I’m certainly not a fan of that one. Therefore, right now, we hunker down until I can get a better idea of what’s going on. If we choose to attempt to escape the perimeter and report back in from the outside, we’ll have to figure out what to do with Emily.”

“What do you mean? We’re taking her with us, right? We can’t just leave her,” Clarke protests.

“No, we’re not just leaving her. But, we can’t exactly take her with us if we decide to report in. There’s no logical way we can explain her being with us. Whatever story we come up with will seem fishy from the start. They’ll quickly find out that she lived in the city, and explaining how she met up with us outside of the city will raise gigantic red flags,” Brown responds.

“You know, I wonder if Emily has any family living in the area? I mean, outside of the city, obviously, but still close,” Hayward comments.

“That’s actually a good idea, and something I didn’t think of. More of that free education being put to use. We’ll ask her in the morning. If she does, let’s hope she knows their number,” Brown says.

The three of them fall into silence, staring at the devastation occurring in the city.

“It’s hard to believe that they’d do that to an entire city. Those are Americans down there. Surely there are, or were, a lot of survivors like us,” Hayward says, breaking the silence.

“There may or may not have been. I don’t recall seeing anyone other than Emily, but, yes, the odds dictate that if we survived, then others may have as well. However, having said that, we are watching it from our perspective, one oriented to our own survival. And yeah, what happened was shitty, but put our own shit aside and look at the bigger picture. They can’t allow whatever was released to get outside of the city. Can you imagine what would happen then?

“What I’m trying to say is, don’t let this sway your opinion of the career path you’ve chosen. This is still the best country to live in, with the best military. If either of you ever have to go overseas and, God forbid, see combat, then you’re going to see some truly ugly things. That’s combat. You do what it takes to live. In a roundabout way, that’s what they’re doing here, for better or worse. Drastic events sometimes require drastic measures.

“Sure, it probably shouldn’t have happened to begin with. Well, no probably to it, but it’s here and they’re containing it in the best way they know how. Put yourself in a higher command’s shoes. You have to make one hundred percent sure that this
thing
doesn’t spread. What would you do?”

Brown imagines the gears churning in their heads as they try and come up with something other than what they’re witnessing. As much as he hates what is happening, he can understand the choices that have been made.

“It gets ugly sometimes, but you have to trust that it’s for the greater good. That’s not always the case, and not everyone is a saint, but you have to hold that above all else—that what you’re doing is for the greater good, even if you don’t understand it at the time, even if you never understand it. You just have to trust that it is. That’s the only way you’ll keep your sanity,” Brown adds.

“You mentioned in the shelter that this had the stink of government. Do you really think this was caused by them?” Clarke asks.

“I have no idea. I don’t think this was something cooked up in a college lab, but who the hell knows? Brainiacs can come up with some fucked up shit. Someone may have read too much on the internet and tried something stupid. But, right now, I’m just going to spend whatever limited brain cells are left to me to focus on how to extricate ourselves from this mess. That other shit, well, I’d rather not crawl down that rabbit hole—never!” Brown answers.

“But, what if they’re doing all of this to cover something up, accident or not?” Clarke asks.

“You heard me say ‘never,’ right? And I mean just that. We get out of this mess and if we decide to report back in, we go on with our lives. And, I’m going to say this to you now. If we do make it back, you never mention what happened. You stick with whatever story we come up with—forever. No drunken storytelling, no late night pillow talk, no, ‘oh my God, you’re my best friend and I know you’ll never tell, so get a load of this’—none of that. This…this here…this never happened,” Brown states.

“Okay, Sergeant,” both cadets respond in unison.

“I mean it. You can’t appreciate what would happen if it does get out, even as a rumor,” Brown says, adamantly. “You may find yourself in a place from which you’ll never emerge. And if you drag me back into this mess because you can’t keep your mouth closed, I will hunt you down and you’ll like that even less. That’s a promise.”

“We won’t,” Clarke replies, speaking for the both of them.

“Better not. Okay, go get some rest. It’s been a long day. I’m going to keep watch here for a bit and then join you.”

After the two cadets head back to the fire, Brown contemplates their situation, the lights and sounds of explosions continuing in the distance. As tempting as it sounds, he knows Hayward is right—they can’t just vanish. He has his cabin in the woods, and he might just retire to it after getting the others out, but that’s not an option at the moment. And, with the way they were hunted and shot at, signaling for a rescue might not be the greatest idea. That pretty much leaves them finding a way past the perimeter and determining the best way to report in.

With a decision mostly firmed up in his mind, Brown rises, dusts the sand from his clothes, and, with a last glance at the dying city, makes his way back to the fire.

BOOK: ARES Virus: Arctic Storm
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