Carlie Simmons (Book 2): In Too Deep (3 page)

Chapter 4

General Adams was standing at the front
of the podium in the conference room as everyone assembled. Carlie looked
around the rectangular room and saw all manner of military and federal
officials along with a handful of scientists gathered together. In its
entirety, the group numbered around two hundred eighty personnel.

“How can there be so few of us?” she
said to Shane, who was standing beside her. “Is this all that’s left at this
base or in the entire region?”

“From an NCO I spoke with in the chow
hall earlier, this is all that’s left of just the field operators and
scientific personnel in the Southwest. The rest of the people we’ve seen around
the base are support personnel, medical, and a few of the president’s political
advisors. All in all, there are around eight hundred people here.”

“Jesus—and this is a sparsely populated region
to begin with. I wonder how other states have fared?” She cleared her throat
and looked away from Shane while forcing her attention back to the crowd around
her.

General Adams had an assistant dim the
lights and then he began his PowerPoint presentation. The first image showed
New York City during the first two hours of the outbreak followed by similar images
of cannibalistic rage and carnage that played out around the country. One clip
of video footage showed a river of undead pouring over the Manhattan Bridge
killing hundreds of fleeing motorists; another revealed a packed football
stadium during an early outbreak in Seattle where few people emerged alive
after thousands of terrified fans clashed with armies of savage mutants.
Chicago had gone up in flames and satellite footage of Dallas showed a derelict
city occupied only by wandering bands of creatures. Carlie lowered her eyes for
a moment, reminding herself that she wasn’t back in the tunnels under the
university as each slide on the screen unfolded. She had to force away the
memory of her Secret Service colleagues who were torn apart before her eyes and
the destruction of the desert city she once called home. In a single twenty-four-hour
period, all that she had known was swept away—her friends, mentors, and the promise
of a coveted career in presidential protection.

“With the exception of a few isolated
pockets in the U.S., every region of this country, and much of the world, saw
widespread fatalities during Monday’s outbreak,” the general said.

“Little is known about the disease at
this time other than what most of you already know regarding the onset of infection.
Our science advisors surmise that it is neurological and not something found in
nature so we can only assume at this stage that it is some kind of bioweapon or
manufactured virus that was unleashed.”

Shane leaned over to Carlie and
whispered in her ear, “I’d like to know which countries or cities abroad are
unaffected by this. That would be a place to start looking for the terrorists
that started this.”

The general continued with his lecture
while showing a supply chart on the screen which indicated the logistical
considerations involved in housing and feeding everyone at White Sands. “At
present, we will be sending numerous helo crews to nearby cities to scour for
food, medical supplies, and survivors. At our current rate of consumption, this
base could house and feed our existing population for four months and now is
the time to start laying in additional supplies and adopting a mindset of
frugality.”

When he had finished his visual
presentation, the lights came back on and General Adams moved away from the
podium and stood at the edge of the stage, looking over the assembly of men and
women before him.

“If you ask me what our aim is in the
coming weeks, it is this: to wage war against these creatures and those who
perpetrated this horror with all our might and with all the strength that we as
a fierce nation of warriors can muster. That is our policy.” The general took
two steps forward and cast a piercing gaze upon the audience. “Victory—victory
at all costs, victory in spite of all the terror, victory however long and hard
the road may be—that is our goal; for without victory there is no survival. And
no matter how dark the days are ahead, never give in—never ever give in except
to your convictions of honor.”

The general clasped his hands behind his
waist as the crowd stood silent. “Return now to your assigned areas and let’s start
down the road to reclaiming what is ours.”

What’s ‘ours,’
thought Carlie,
the hell with that.
My duty in getting the president’s daughter back
here alive is over. Now it’s time for me and mine.

After people began solemnly dispersing,
Carlie saw a young woman with red hair in an army uniform striding towards her.
“Ms. Simmons, my name is Lieutenant Armitage. General Adams has requested that
you meet him in his office. Would you accompany me, please?”

The woman didn’t wait for a response but
instead turned and began walking down the hallway to Carlie’s right. Carlie
raised an eyebrow towards Shane and Matias and moved past them, following the
young woman down the hallway.

She was led through a series of dimly lit
corridors to the general’s makeshift office. The lieutenant opened the door,
nodding for Carlie to enter, then closed it, leaving her alone. Carlie
maneuvered past two stacks of boxes containing files and strode over to a large
wall map with blue pins inserted in various regions of the U.S. Each pin had a
handwritten description next to it indicating the city in one of three terms:
Intact,
Clusters of Survivors, or Devoid of Life
. The latter term dominated the
board with red ink scrawled on most metropolitan areas. Carlie felt a lump in her
throat when she saw large portions of California completely blotted out in red.
She raised a hand over her mouth and stood motionless, not even hearing the
door close behind her as the general entered.

“A brother, isn’t it?” he said.

Carlie barely heard the words pierce her
ears. She turned around and shot a puzzled look at the general. “Excuse me?”
she muttered.

Adams walked beside her and stood
looking at the map. “I said—you have a brother in San Diego as I recall, isn’t
that right?”

“Yes—I mean yes, sir,” she said, pulling
the sleeves of her jacket straight and refocusing her attention on the broader
layout of the map. “He was stationed at Coronado Island.”

“Your youngest brother, Matt. Heck of a navy
guy from the file I read. Much like his sister was before joining the Secret
Service. Only you were army. Why’s that—following in your father’s footsteps?”

“You seem to have all the answers to my
past, sir.”

“Databases and personnel files reveal
only timelines and achievement scores. I’d like to know why you went from army
intel as a Russian interpreter to the physical realm of personal protection.
That’s not a typical MO for Secret Service agents.”

“Desk work translating documents wasn’t
very exciting. I’m not sure how all this bears on the present—why was I asked
to be here?”

“Do you see that plaque on the wall,
Agent Simmons? That was given to me when I got my first star as a general.”

“Yes, sir—very impressive indeed.”

“Doesn’t mean shit to me compared to
this,” he said, reaching into his desk and pulling out a Corporal patch. “This
was given to me by a group of men I commanded for many years in special
operations. They gave it to me as a gift of sorts and kind of a parting joke when
I got my promotion. It’s always helped me to remember where I came from.”

“I see,” Carlie said, still not sure what
this was all about.

“The front lines are where people like
you and I belong, not sitting at a desk doling out orders. I heard about all
the colleagues you and Agent Colter lost in the battle in Tucson,” he said,
leaning his hands on the table and sighing. “It has been two days of
unimaginable loss on all fronts. Two thirds of my command are gone or
unaccounted for and that’s just within the army.”

Carlie’s mouth was slightly agape at the
comment. “I’m sorry to hear that, sir. I’m only just now learning about the
large-scale effects of this pandemic from your presentation and from others here.”

“It’s a lot to take in, isn’t it? Like
some goddamned chapter out of the Book of Apocalypse. Too bad I’m not a
religious man—maybe this would be easier to interpret.”

“So are there other units or garrisons
intact around the country?”

“Yes, small groups of survivors amongst
our armed forces on the mainland here and on several Destroyers out at sea but
I won’t have the total numbers for some time as radio reception is sporadic at
best. We were barely able to keep the channel open with you and your group in
Tucson as it was.”

“Sir, I am still not sure why you
summoned me here.”

“Experience and life skills are what
matter now. If you’ve got ’em then you’re ahead of the pack and will have a
50/50 chance of surviving in this new world. If you don’t then you’re like a
newborn babe waking up in a sinking life raft.”

“How can I be of service?”

“I’m a military man, not a politician.
Frankly, I don’t need to know why you supposedly defied your post and left the
president’s daughter, if that’s what really happened. I know all too well how
politics and perception often distort the reality for those of us with boots on
the ground. What I do need is a cool-headed operator who can lead a team into
New Orleans to extract some potentially vital intel.”

Carlie looked him straight in the eye
and exhaled. “You want me to head up that mission? Surely there must be other
operators here with…”

General Adams raised his hand to
interrupt her. “With Russian language skills coupled with considerable tactical
abilities…not likely. You’ve got advanced training in terrorist tactics,
defensive driving, team dynamics, and hand-to-hand skills that few people
possess. Given your unique blend of abilities, I can use someone like you to lead
a small unit to Ground Zero. There was some nebulous information that we got a
glimpse of out of New Orleans before things went to shit. The Homeland Security
guys there had boarded a freighter and uncovered something that may allow us to
pick up the trail on how this arrived on our shores.”

The general stood before Carlie, who
sensed she was probably conveying a look of uncertainty about her proposed role.
“Any differences or conflicts you had with the Secret Service or they had with
you, need to be put aside right now. The clock on the human race is ticking and
I need every experienced warrior for the dark days ahead if we’re to have a
chance at turning this hellish nightmare around.”

Carlie stood with her arms at her sides,
rolling her right thumb around as she mulled over his words. In another
reality, she would have considered asking for time to reflect on other options
but where was she to go? She had little desire to be responsible for the lives
of others any longer. This military base was all that was left in the entire
region. She just wanted to fade into the background and remain low profile but what
would be the point when she most wanted to stay with her friends and find out
what had become of her family? Carlie felt like her life had been driven into a
corner.
Now I have to be in charge of more people and a mission whose
outcome is precarious at best.

“Well, Ms. Simmons, I need you to take
the lead on this op.”

She knew he wasn’t asking her as much as
extending professional courtesy without making it seem like an order. Carlie folded
her arms in front of her and glanced at the wall map again and then shifted her
gaze back to the general. She knew that if there was any hope of ever searching
for her brother she would need the resources that the military could provide.

“Alright, sir,” she said with a forced
exhale. “Can you tell me what you need us to do and how this requires my
Russian intel skills?”

He grabbed a file containing loosely
shuffled papers off his desk and handed it to her. “Better if you see yourself.
The other team that will accompany you will be led by Staff Sergeant Boyd who I
believe you already met. He and his small team will be under your command. You
depart at 0500 tomorrow. That will give you and your team a night of
much-needed rest,” he said while sitting down on the edge of the desk.

She flipped open the manila folder and
stared at the transcription of the dialogue between the field agents who opened
the cargo hold of the freighter in New Orleans. The report indicated that there
was an encrypted laptop that was discovered amidst crates of contraband. Carlie’s
eyes sifted through each line until she came to several photographs. The first showed
a wooden container with its lid half-removed while the second photograph was a close-up
which revealed a small package with Soviet army insignias whose tattered edges seemed
like they had been forcefully cut from their uniforms. Beside these were a
handful of tarnished circular medallions. Carlie craned her head down to
scrutinize the photo. The medallions were silver with the head of a man’s figure
in the center surrounded by a sickle, a hammer, and a star. Along the edge was
an inscription in red enamel with the Russian wording:
Сергей
Mitrinov.