Extermination Day (22 page)

Yeah, it’ll be available in about twenty years.

“I’ll be on the lookout for it then,” Hicks said. “It could save a lot of lives.
Kaahtenay spotted it from a couple of miles away, I think.”

The ranger strapped Holly into the harness and seat to be pulled up. When she was secure, he radioed up to his partner to start pulling. She was awake and aware of what was going on, but not very talkative and pretty listless in general.

“Thank you,” she said to the ranger as she started the slow ascent up the steep ledge.

“You guys should definitely go to the hospital to be checked out. We can take you once we get up,” Hicks said.

“We will, thank you so much. You and your friend have saved our lives,” Jeff said graciously.

Hicks smiled, “You’re welcome, Jeff. Just doing my job.”

A couple of hours later, everyone had been hauled out of Lechuguilla cave. When Jeff finally reached the top, he actually bent over and kissed the ground. It was a bit dramatic, sure, but he was emotional and incredibly relieved to finally be out, to feel fresh air and see the sky. The sun had set many hours ago and a full moon shown brightly on a clear and crisp evening. Jeff’s eyes watered as the sharp, fresh desert air hit his face. He didn’t mind.

Holly sat over by the side with a young man with long dark hair. She was wearing a buckskin jacket and eating something with a white plastic fork.
Four horses waited, saddled and ready to go at the side of the cave entrance. Apparently they’d helped pull Jeff and Holly to safety.

“Vehicles can’t make it over this terrain, so it’s either hike two miles or ride out. I figure you folks would prefer to ride. These two girls here are as gentle as they can be,” Hicks said as he patted the necks of two of the horses.

“Let’s head out; my jeep is waiting for us. Uh, do you have any other clothes?  It can be a bit nippy out in the desert at night.”

Jeff was only wearing his
spandex undergarments, which were now blackened with dirt, sweat, and dried blood.

“No,” he said. “It was so hot down in the cave that we just left our clothes down there.”

“I’ve got another jacket you can borrow,” said a young Native American man who was standing beside the horses eating what looked like Chinese take-out and drinking a Budweiser. He walked over and handed Jeff another warm buckskin jacket like the one Holly was already wearing.

“I’m
Kaahtenay. I saw your red signal light. That thing is pretty impressive. I was talking to your friend Holly here and it sounds like you guys had a really rough go of it. Don’t worry, though, we’ll get you out of here soon. Care for some Chinese?” The young man extended a white Styrofoam container.

"Oh, you can't even imagine," Jeff said, grabbing the container
and scoffing down some Kung Pao chicken, ravished from his five day famine.

Kaahtenay
returned to the horses but as he did so, the animals started neighing, flipping their heads up and pawing their hooves into the rocky ground.

“What in the world?  Something’s got the horses spooked,” Hicks said.

The horses bucked, squealing nervously, eyes wide open in panic. Two ran off as Hicks and Kaahtenay held tightly onto theirs. Then, in the gathering shadows, something fast and powerful leapt from Lechuguilla cave, landing with a thump, throwing rocks and dust into the air at its impact.

The shadowy form grunted like a bull and glared with glowing blue eyes. Slowly, the muscular body of a tall young man rose up, standing in front of them, outlined before the
full moon. He wore only snug-fitting torn shorts. He squeezed his hands into tight fists and released them, then tilted his head to each side like he was stretching out and cracking his neck.

Just as a fighter did before facing his opponent in the ring.

“Hello, Jeff and Holly,” the man boomed out in a deep metallic baritone. “Remember me?  It’s the new and improved Patrick Chen. Let’s play.”

3:30 pm EST, January 16, 2038

Greenbrier Resort

“I’ve answered enough of your stupid questions,” Farrow or Chen or whoever he was said angrily. “Now tell me where the base is.”

Melinda knew that she couldn’t stall any longer. She had to make up something good.

“The base is in Kashmir, in northwestern India. President Paulson told me just before the swarm attacked us. He said to send them a message if I survived.” She remembered reading about the base in a recent wire from the State Department.

“Kashmir is a pretty big place. Where?”

“The Forward Logistics Base near the
Siachen Glacier. Deep under the last remaining ice cap.”

“You think I don’t know about that base? It was my job to know everything that went on. But Diaz and Paulson did have their little secrets. I’ll know if you’re telling the truth in just a few minutes.”

Farrow sat down in the chair behind the telegraph table, closed his eyes and bowed his head, as if he were in a deep trance. Several minutes passed with Melinda's heart steadily pounding harder and harder as she thought about the possibility of escape. She stood up slowly and made her way to the door.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you," Farrow said coldly, his eyes still closed. "Don't make me break both of your legs to hobble you."

Melinda stepped away from the door and returned to stand in front of Farrow once again. Moments later he lifted his head and stared cold and hard into her eyes.

“You lie. There is nothing at
Siachen. Everyone died from the virus hours ago, before this telegraph message of yours went out.” Farrow looked furious, his blue eyes widening and lips curling into a snarl, but he held his voice slow and calm. “Perhaps we need to pick up where we left off? Or should I try something else.”

He reached out and grabbed her hand and slammed it to the table. Then he pushed h
is clawed index finger over her pinky and began sawing away on it, slowly and methodically.

Melinda screamed out in pain as the sharp blade tore away at her finger. But Farrow didn’t stop until her severed
pinky was lying in a pool of blood.

“Please, no more!”

“You have nine more of these, then I start working on your toes. Tell me the truth!”

She’d had enough. Farrow would kill her after she gave up the information, but hopefully it would be a swift death with no torture.

“Okay, okay. Just stop. The truth is I don’t know anything about a base. I just sent out a blind SOS with the information that you were a spy.”

“Did anyone reply?”

“They did. They said they would try to help and wanted to know where I was. That’s the truth. I recorded the message on my portable. Listen if you want.”

Farrow grabbed the portable from her wrist and listened.

“Very well. That wasn’t so hard, was it? I want you to respond to them. Tell them where you are and ask where they are.”

Farrow was standing behind her the whole time breathing on her neck—hot, angry, rancid breath. She tried to put out of her mind what he was going to do to her after this was over, after the message came back from the other telegraph operator. Her hands shook as she tried to send the message and despite the chill in the air, she was sweating profusely. After a few wrong taps on the telegraph, Farrow lost his patience.

“Get up! Let me do this. Just stand over there and don’t try anything.”

She knew that it could take several minutes before the person on the other end responded, even if they got the message right away. As she stood to the side of the swivel chair, she noticed a coffee stain on the table near one of the old-style computer keyboards. She thought back to just two days ago when she was sitting in her cubicle at the White House and the clumsy intern who had a crush on her—what was his name? Rick. How Rick had brought her coffee and accidently spilled it on her laptop
's holographic keyboard projector when he went to place it on her desk. It flooded the whole thing and sparks flew everywhere.

Wait! That’s it!
Melinda felt she may have a chance after all.

She
casually reached out to where she had left her water bottle on the table. She exaggerated the shaking of her hands and pretended to lose her grip on the bottle, knocking it to the floor. Water spilled out under the table where Farrow was sitting.

“Clumsy bitch! Just sit on the floor and don’t say or do anything.”

Melinda edged over and sat down near the telegraph's power cord, but just outside of the spilled water. A message started coming through on the machine.

Farrow spoke out loud as he translated the
bips and beeps. “Message received. Need to contact other survivors. My current location is Ca . . . ”

Farrow stopped speaking. The message had been cut off as Melinda reached out to the telegraph cord and jerked it hard. The frayed wires that she had spun together earlier tore apart and the machine went flying.

She leaped to her feet and held the exposed live wires out away from her body. She stared at Farrow with searing hatred and swung the cord down to the floor like a whip.

Farrow's mouth opened and he let out a surprised
gasp as the frayed end of the cord slapped the puddle and sparked. He tried to spring at her, but before he could rise up, the puddle under him crackled as electricity flowed through the water to the metal chair. He reached out to grab her with his clawed hand just as the powerful current hit his body. His legs and arms went rigid, and he started convulsing.

There was no court of justice here to try traitors, but Melinda was making sure that Farrow got her version of the electric chair.

He fell back into the chair, and she held the frayed cord in the water until his eyes bled and smoke drifted into the air from his burned-out corpse. The smell of charred flesh wafted into her nostrils, and Melinda gagged.

When she thought he’d had enough, she threw the telegraph cord away and looked down on Farrow’s crispy corpse. He looked pretty dead, but she knew that if he could survive bullet wounds to the head and chest, he very well might be able to recover from an electric shock. She needed to make sure he wouldn’t be coming back again.

She grabbed her severed finger from the table, put it in her pocket, and wheeled the burned body of Farrow out of the room. There was only one place to go to get the job done. She pushed the chair into the medical office and flipped Farrow’s body onto one of the surgical tables.

“Computer. Prepare for autopsy.”

“Prepping equipment,” replied the computer in a male voice with a slight British accent.

“Override normal procedure. I want all organs extracted, placed in separate containers, and cremated immediately.” She wouldn’t take any chances. The last thing she wanted was an insane Farrow coming back to life and attacking her as she slept.

“I have to warn you that by following this procedure, the exact cause of death will not be accurately determined,” the computer told her.

“I already know the cause of death, computer, so just do it.”

Melinda watched as mechanical robots hovered over Farrow’s body and used lasers to remove his major organs—heart, lungs, kidneys, even the brain. Each one was placed in a separate container and laid out on display beside the bed where his corpse lay. It felt like hours, but finally the gory procedure was complete.

“Now burn it.”

One of the medical bots rolled over to a door which automatically opened to reveal hellfire inside. She could feel the intense heat of the oven even from several feet away. The bot methodically picked up each organ and placed it on a conveyor belt that rolled into the oven.

When the
bot got to the heart, Melinda sidled closer to get a better look. On the surface a viscous metallic-looking liquid, like quicksilver, ebbed and flowed across the tissues.

A second later the heart started beating.

Her own heart skipped a beat as she swallowed back vomit. Fear turned to anger as she stared down at the horrible living heart. She plucked one of the surgical knives off the table next to her and stabbed the heart center mass. Then she threw it into the fire with the other organs. The rest of the body soon followed.

“Let’s see you come back from that, motherfucker!”

Sweating and shaky, she stood watching until the last of Farrow’s remains burned away. The door to the oven automatically closed.

“Cremation complete,” the computer said.

After the cremation, Melinda had the Medical AI reattach her severed finger. The tiny lasers and microscopic surgical instruments moved with speed, skill, and precision unmatched by human hands. During the procedure, she listened as the bricks and mortar, as the walls and roof of the old hotel fell to the ground. The insects were eating away at the foundation. Soon they would be inside the bunker.

She couldn’t stay. The resort and the remade Cold War bunker was no refuge for her. With the virus still inactive in her system, perhaps she would develop an immunity to future infections. She didn’t know for sure. But there were no other bio-suits around. Her only choice was to run out into the wilds of West Virginia and see if she could survive.

Melinda was a fighter. She had defeated one powerful enemy already. Whatever was waiting out there for her, she would fight that as well. She would never give up. Not as long as she was still breathing.