Seven Days To Brooklyn: A Sara Robinson Adventure (18 page)

“Lancer, good shot, target destroyed. Thanks for the help. Timber Wolf out.”
 

 
“Good copy, Timber Wolf; we’re standing by.”

Turning the truck back to the north, the driver navigates around the city blocks, bringing the truck back on course. Minutes later, they are out on the highway, clicking off the miles to the extraction point. Rolling up the highway at a top speed of sixty-two miles per hour, the old pickup shakes and shudders as the driver pushes it harder and harder toward the ski resort. Twenty minutes later, they see the sign for the resort and turn off the road, following the resort signs into a parking lot. In front of them, the lodge building sits ominously dark. Jumping out of the truck and abandoning it in the parking lot, the team leader gives two of the commandos an urgent mission.
 

“Find the diesel generator and get it cranked up. We’re going to ride the ski lift up to the mountaintop for extraction.”
 

The two commandos run over to the opposite side of the lodge and search for the generator. On the north side of the lodge sits a smaller log building. Running up to the building, the commandos see the door with the word “Generator” painted on the door. Pushing hard on the door, the pair shoves the door in and walks up to the diesel. Without talking, they search for the start button and control system. Walking around the huge, twelve-cylinder diesel, they find the controls on the opposite side. Clicking the power switch on, no voltage is displayed on the voltmeter.
 

“It’s dead,” the commando says.
 

Reading a sign on the wall, the other commando starts reading aloud.
 

“Says here, for an alternate start, open the air valve at point D, and then open the air valve all the way at point E.”
 

The other commando finds the air valves that are plumbed into the air starter on the opposite side of the diesel. Opening the valves one at a time, he charges the air starter, cranking the engine over and over until it finally chugs to life, sending white, then black smoke out of the roof exhaust.
 

“Got it. Let’s go.”
 

Mac, Sara, and the other commandos are already at the ski lift operator booth and have it up and running before the two commandos make catch up to them. The group quickly leaves the booth and two by two, jump onto the moving ski lift benches, first Sara and the team leader, followed by Mac and a commando.
 

The rest of the commandos jump on and are all quickly flying up the mountain above. Turning the satellite phone back on, the team leader calls the Colorado ops center.
 

“Watchman here.”
 

“Watchman, this is Timber Wolf.”
 

“Go ahead, Timber Wolf.”
 

“We are ready for extraction and will be in position in two minutes.”
 

The operator puts the cigarette he is puffing on down into an ashtray that is full of expended butts. “That’s a good copy, Timber Wolf. Dragon Seven-Seven will be in position in one zero minutes.”
 

Hanging onto Sara, the team leader prepares to jump off the lift at the top of the mountain while talking on the phone.
 

“Good copy, Watchman. Timber Wolf out,” he says as he steps off the lift and moves off to the side, pulling Sara with him. She shakes off his grip as they step out of the way of the other team members and Mac.
 

Eight minutes later, the low whir of the Blackhawk helicopter pierces the silence of the night. Seconds later, the helicopter makes a low approach, landing a few yards away from the group. Jumping onto the helicopter, Sara is once again pushed into a middle seat with two of the commandos on both sides of her. Mac is directed to a seat in the back. The crew chief slides the door closed, and they are lifted off the mountain, quickly gaining altitude and speed on their flight to Colorado. The hum of the helicopter rotor system gently lulls the commandos into a deep sleep, stress subsiding after their encounter with ground hostiles and flesh-eaters. Sara drifts in and out of sleep, occasionally opening her eyes as she stares at the instrument panel directly in front of her. The instrument panel gives off a green glow and helps her go back to sleep. Hours later, the Blackhawk helicopter descends into the small mountain helipad directly in front of the SOAC command hangar. The helicopter wheels squelch as it touches down on the tarmac, and the helicopter taxis up and into the hangar, coming to an abrupt stop. The large hangar doors slowly close behind them. Stepping out of the helicopter, the crew chief slides the door open, and the commandos climb out and are greeted by General Edwards.

“Good work, men,” he says as he shakes hands with each one of the commandos. Directly in front of the general, Sara jumps off the helicopter. Sizing her up, he estimates her to be around five feet five inches tall. Ken Edwards, towering way above her, walks up and introduces himself.
 

“Young lady, I’m General Edwards, but you can call me Ken. We’ve been looking for you for a long time.”
 

Looking up at the tall general, Sara scans the military uniform, counting the medals on his chest. Wondering what they symbolize, she quickly puts that aside as she takes a step closer to the general. “Sara Robinson.”
 

The general reciprocates and gives her a hearty handshake before looking over to the team leader. “Good work, sir. We will debrief later in the ops conference room, level three.”

 
“Yes, sir.”

“So,” the general says, releasing Sara’s hand and now looking directly eye to eye with Mac, “You are Sara’s friend?”
 

“Yes, that’s right; we are comfortably acquainted. Guess that would make us friends.” Mac replies.

“Good.”
 

A door on the far side of the hangar opens, and three armed security personnel in air force fatigues walk over to them. Looking at the security personnel, the general and the first security officer talk away from Sara and Mac. Sara strains to hear the conversation but is unable to make out what they are saying. Kneeling down next to Sara, Mac puts his face close to her ear so only she can hear him.
 

“I don’t like this. This is not right.”
 

“Me neither.”
 

Walking back over to the pair, the general and the security officers stand in opposition before them. “These men will escort you two down to the living quarters. We have two rooms for you. Hot showers, and when you are ready, you can come over to the mess hall. It is on level six. Just push the intercom button on the wall next to your bed, and one of these gentlemen will escort you to the cafeteria and then back to your room where you can rest. We can talk later.”
 

The general does not wait for a reply, before turning around and leaving the five of them standing in the hangar. The security officers surround Mac and Sara and motion for them to move toward a single door directly in front of them. Walking through the door leads them into a long tunnel that slopes at an incline down into the earth for 200 yards. At the end of the tunnel, they come to a large, steel blast door. Scanning his security card, one of the officers unlocks the door, and it slowly swings open. The door is six inches thick, reinforced to sustain a nuclear blast. Sara watches as the airman replaces the card back into a chest pocket. Motioning for Mac and Sara to move through the door, the group walks another fifty yards into another tunnel and up to an elevator door. Sara scans all the buttons on the elevator and gets one last look at the blast door at the other end of the tunnel as the elevator door closes. Looking back at the elevator buttons, Sara reads the buttons from top to bottom. The buttons are laid out in a single vertical row. Starting from the top, the first button has an
H
next to it. The following buttons are numbers one through nine. Below the button labeled nine is one more button with a
T
next to it. She wonders what the
T
stands for. Looking back at the
H
, she already knows that is the floor they are leaving next to the hangar. As the elevator comes to a stop, the doors open up to floor level three, and they are directed out into the long, white hallway. Two-thirds of the way down the hallway, two doors are on the left side. Walking over to the doors, two of the airmen slide their identification badges through a card reader next to the doors, unlocking them. The airmen escort Mac and Sara into their rooms, closing the doors behind them. Sara walks over to the door handle and turns the knob but is unable to open it. The small room is not decorated, and the blank, white walls are only broken up with the placement of a double bed on one wall. Just next to the bed is another door leading to the bathroom. Sara checks the bathroom out and decides to take advantage of the hot water. Soon the steam boils out of the bathroom as the bathtub fills up to the top with water. Sarah steps into the tub and sinks below the surface of the water. Coming back up for air, she clears her eyes as the water starts to turn dirty brown from her grimy body and hair. On a ledge next to the tub, a bottle of shampoo and bar of soap sit, waiting to be used. Sara scrubs her hair and body, then lies back in the water for another thirty minutes before stepping back out of the tub onto the bathmat. Drying off with a large, white towel, Sara grabs another towel and wraps it around her head to keep her head warm while her hair dries. Walking over to the bed, she fluffs the pillows up, placing them under the sheets in a way that makes it look like she is in bed. Climbing back into her dirty clothes, Sara again scans the room, looking for a way to get out. Not coming up with one, she decides to push the call button to summon the security airman. A few minutes later, the latch on the door clicks and the officer opens the door. Walking up to the officer, Sara looks up at him through deep brown eyes, and the hardened look on his face starts to soften. He stares at the little gal with the white towel still wrapped around her head, before speaking.
 

“Are you hungry?”
 

“Yes, I’m starving.”
 

Looking over at the other door to Mac’s room, Sara wonders if Mac is going to the cafeteria with them to eat.
 

“Come on; we can get you anything you want.”
 

Sara and the security officer walk over to the open elevator, step in, and are on their way down to floor six. Seconds later, the elevator door opens up into the deserted cafeteria. Ten round tables are directly in front of them, with a long buffet line right behind them. Off to the right side, there are rows of condiments and glass refrigerators stocked with every kind of soda, juice, and milk. Walking over to the food trays, the officer grabs one for Sara and walks up to the buffet line. She follows him. Grabbing a plate, the officer looks over at her.
 

“So, what will it be?”
 

She looks down the long row of steaming food. Trays of fried chicken, turkey and gravy, rice, beans, fish, and roast beef sit in front of her.
 

“Roast beef, please.”
 

The officer loads up her plate with roast beef, adding in a spoonful of mashed potatoes, green beans, and a slice of homemade bread before bringing her tray over to a table and setting it down for her. Sara slumps into the chair and starts devouring the food.
 

“What would you like to drink, Sara?”
 

“Milk,” Sara replies through a mouth full of potatoes, gravy, and beef. Walking back over to her with a pint-sized bottle of milk, the officer pops the lid off and throws a straw into it before placing it in front of her. Sara wraps her hands around the milk bottle and draws the liquid through the straw, sucking the whole bottle down at one time. Belly full, and a bit sleepy, Sara walks with the officer back to the elevator and steps in. The elevator closes behind them as the officer pushes button three to take them back up to the bedroom where Sara just took a bath. Slowing to a stop, the elevator door opens up, and two men dressed in white lab coats step in. Sara looks out through the open elevator door before it closes, noticing what looks like an examination table like she used to see at the doctor’s office, just behind a glass window. The elevator continues its climb again, stopping at the next floor up.
 

“Here we are,” the officer says, motioning for Sara to follow him off the elevator and back to her room. Sara walks back to the room, and the officer scans his card again, opening the door and letting Sara step inside before closing it behind her. She again checks the knob and can’t get it to open. With fatigue overtaking her, she decides a quick escape is better put off until after she rests. Climbing into bed, she rearranges the pillows around her and quickly dozes off to sleep, unaware of the horror going on below her on floor number four.

12

“SO, THAT’S HER,” one of the doctors says to the other one as the elevator closes behind Sara and the officer, leaving the two doctors inside.
 

“Yes, that’s her; she’s scheduled for an exam tomorrow morning. We’ll give her another night to sleep before the dissection, giving her body time to relax.”
 

“Yes, that would be best. Twelve more hours won’t make a difference anyway, and it will give her body time to get rid of the toxins introduced from outside the facility.” The doctor closest to the row of buttons reaches down and presses button number eight. The two doctors are medical researchers specializing in autopsy and advanced ET (extraterrestrial) studies. Now a subsection of SOAC, the medical studies division is working on transferring their knowledge of germ warfare into a possible cure for the Ebola 27x strain.
 

Dr. Nayath Bhakta and his colleague Dr. Samuel Graham were the top researchers in their field, naturally chosen for the project based on their advanced research and reputation for extreme horrific medical dissection processes on live subjects. To the doctors, their justification for carrying out the experiments on unwary subjects was that it was their duty.