The Romero Strain (44 page)

The major was skeptical. “Sergeant, MEDCOM FOB, New York was lost several days into the plaque. All remaining personnel were evacuated. Over.”

“Affirmative, Major. But not all military personnel got evac’d out of the city. So you’re going to have to take my word that we are who we say we are. Over.”

“If this is true, may I speak to your commanding officer? Over.”

“Major. I am the NCO of this base and operation. There are only three of us remaining, myself and two members of the Army Medical Institute.”

“I’m sorry to hear that, Sergeant. Since I cannot verify or disprove your identity, I will give you the benefit of the doubt since you are broadcasting on a secure band. How may I be of assistance?”

I was surprised. Had we actually fooled them?

“You can get us the hell out of here, sir. MEDCOM is a Charlie Foxtrot. We have come under attack by armed and hostile civilians, presumed to be former corrections inmates. We are outnumbered and will not be able to hold the base if we incur another assault. The city has also been infected with a secondary plague, a mutation of the Trixoxen virus. We have designated the new plague victims as half-mutes. They are extremely violent and extremely dangerous. Over.”

The major questioned my knowledge in regard to the plague. “Sergeant. You seem to have details about the plague that we don’t know. Can you explain? Over.”

“Major Ramsey, I could, but that would take a very long time. Let me just tell you that the information comes from the USMRIID. Can you tell me about your situation? We are surprised to hear English voices over the comm. Over.”

“At this time all U.S. Military bases but Croughton have been abandoned. We have consolidated our remaining forces here. Unfortunately we are less than sixty in both ground and air. However, the English seem to have faired better. They have sent us reinforcements from High Wycombe. Most of England is under control as are Scotland and Wales. Ireland has been evacuated. Joint Operational Forces have set up border check points for refugees as well as sea patrols off the coast. At this time more of the population, as well as Coalition Forces are succumbing to a new outbreak. We still have not found a cure. Over.”

“Roger, Major Ramsey. I might have a solution to that problem. We believe we have an antivirus for the secondary infection. It was developed by a civilian doctor attached to the MRIID. I have specimens, serums and all the data. I am requesting immediate evac of all base personnel and civilians. Over.”

Marisol nudged me.

“And two dogs. Over.”

“Say again. Did you say two
dogs
, Sergeant? We will not be able to transport any animals. Over.”

“With all due respect, sir. That is non-negotiable. One is my search and rescue canine and the other is a rescue dog in training. I must insist they be evacuated with the rest of us. Over.”

“Affirmative, Sergeant. I’m sure we can make arrangements. How many people do we need to evacuate?”

The doctor waved his hands frantically. I didn’t respond to the Major’s question.

“Under no circumstances will I leave. I need to stay and help whoever I can,” Doctor France adamantly stated.

“Me too,” Ryan added. “I need to see about people too.”

The Major repeated his message.

“MEDCOM FOB. How copy? How many for evacuation. Over.”

Sam told me, “Tell them, ‘Wait Out.’”

“Sorry, Croughton. I was just discussing the matter with the corporal. Possibly eight, depending if all the civilians wish to relocate.”

“Is the doctor who developed the cure one of your civilians?”

I paused momentarily to think of a response.

“Negative, Major. The doctor forgot to inject himself. He turned into a half-mute. Over.”

“Understood, Sergeant. Please relay pickup coordinates for rendezvous.”

“Colonel, we will need a few hours to determine a place. What is the mode of pickup? Over.”

“We can transport into
Stewart ANGB Newburgh, New York with a C-17, then air evac you out of Manhattan by bird. Over.”

“Roger, Major. We’ll call you back at… Quick, Kermit, what’s military time zone for New York?”

“Romeo.”

“1800 Romeo with pickup coordinates,” I said again into the radio. “Over.”

“Understood MEDCOM. 1800 hours Romeo. Out.”

“MEDCOM FOB out.”

I turned to everyone.

“I don’t believe it! They believed us. Except they’re never going to believe I’m Special Forces.”

“You did fine, son. The Air Force isn’t going to know you’re not who you say you are. You’re Army Special Forces. Those guys never talk about what they do or where they’ve been anyways, all classified. You have the medical background for an 18D and the rest is a lot of saluting with ‘yes, sir.’”

“This isn’t going to work. I have no dog tags, no military ID, nothing. I’m going to have to tell them who I am. If I get caught they’ll probably shoot me.”

“As far as I’m concerned you are who you say you are and that’s exactly what I’ll tell anyone who asks. You are a Medical Sergeant First Class, Army Special Forces 5
th
Regiment detached to the MRIID. You think if they found out whom Sam and I really are they wouldn’t blame the whole end of the world on us? On second thought, maybe none of us should go. Maybe Mechanicville
is
our best choice.”

“In that case we need to leave. We already told them about the cure. If we don’t call them back at 1800 hours they’ll come anyways.”

“Hell, they’re probably on the way right now,” Kermit said.

“All right. It’s about two thirty. That gives us three and a half hours to come up with a plan. Ryan and Dick. Please, my office. Sam. We’re gonna need those maps out of the Stryker, and I hope you can read them. Everyone else, how about a meeting in a half hour? We need to figure out a pickup point whether we go or not. At least they deserve the cure.”

“Congratulations on your demotion,” David said, as Julie held onto his waist hugging him. “Guess I’ll have to call you Sergeant Hulka, instead of colonel, or should we just call you Snake?”

“You’re a laugh a minute, DD.”

* * *

“Don’t tell me you can fix this. That would be a movie cliché. There’s no one left to save except ourselves. The beacon has only attracted hostiles. Don’t you two get it? There’s no one left to rescue. Doc, your survival calculations are wrong and you didn’t factor in the second mutation. If that hasn’t killed everyone then those lunatics who attacked us a few weeks ago will finish the job.”

“There is no point in discussing this. I will not leave.”

“Dick, we discussed this at our meeting. You sat there and the only thing you said was, ‘And why is that?’ We need to go no matter what. It’s Mechanicville or England.”

He was adamant in his decision.

“No. We need more time! We have only had the beacon on a short time. Maybe people are coming from a long distance. Or perhaps it is they are taking longer than expected, having to avoid the half-mutes and guys with the guns.”

I shook my head in disappointment and disapproval.

“And Ryan, what is your excuse?”

He looked at me. “I agree with the doctor. We need more time. We didn’t find all the people who were hiding with me. There were woman and children. We only found the men. They have to be somewhere hiding. I want to wait and see. You saved my life; at least allow me to try to save someone else’s.”

“Even at the risk of your own?”

“Yes. Just like you risked yours to save mine.”

I couldn’t argue with him on that point.

“You’re both crazy. Neither of you know how to fix anything or defend yourselves. Dick, you haven’t even learned to use a weapon. And, Ryan, your aim is barely better than mine. But since I’m not the boss of either of you, may your god protect you.”

* * *

It had been decided. After an hour of discussion we unanimously decided to go to England. It would be easier on us all. David and Julie were civil engineers and I was a paramedic, skills I’m sure would be needed where we were going. Kermit and Sam also had desirable skills and could remain in the Army if they choose. As for Marisol, she hopefully could go to college and study mathematics like she desired. However, it didn’t occur to me that I couldn’t go until I was washing my hands. A sudden realization hit me. I was a transmute, well partially. If I was able to fool them enough get on the helicopter, I couldn’t hide my condition forever. Once people found out what I was, especially the military, I would most likely be sequestered to some secret military installation where I would become a test subject—poked probed, injected, tissue and blood samples extracted most likely for the remainder of my life. I would become a prisoner, never allowed to see my friends again. I would have to stay and Marisol could never know my intention until it was too late for her to do something about it.

XI. A Farewell to Arms

I sat on top of the sandbags that made up the makeshift machine gun nest, peering out to the streets below. Night was the time of the transmutes, coming out of their daytime hiding places to hunt, not having to worry about those that wished them harm during the day.

I enjoyed the quiet moments alone on the roof, tonight especially, with the beacon lights not having been lit—and at my request only using minimal compound lighting. As I looked down to the street below with Max resting near my feet, the rats and other animals that scampered around bemused me. On occasion I would observe a transmute that would stop at the fencing, looking toward the main door, most likely still distraught over having to flee its home.

The night sky was beautiful. With the hundreds of thousands of pollutant expelling vehicles no longer churning out their poisons, the haze that usually shrouded the city on those hot, humid summer days had vanished, and the city’s visibility had drastically increased. There was less rain. Though clouds would roll into Manhattan, there were fewer particles that aided in the formation of rain droplets, which was actually a good thing—no more acidic rain and less water accumulation and flooding to contend with.

There was a noise behind me, but I wasn’t concerned nor did I make an effort to turn my head around to investigate. I knew who it was by the sound; besides, I also knew that it could only be one of us accessing the roof from the inward stairwell. I continued to sip my beer.

“You can put the gun down, David.”

Surprised, he asked, “How did you know it was me?”

“Your walk, amongst other things.”

“Why you sitting up here in the dark? It’s nearly pitch black.”

“Oh contraire,
mon ami.
It’s a beautiful night. Observe the clear sky, the bright moon, the shining stars. It’s anything but pitch black. Besides, you forget—owl eyes.”

“Why are you up here?” he said as he sat down next to me, observing Max by my feet.

Max was silent, barely raising his head to acknowledge David’s presence.

“Beer?” I asked.

“No Jack?” he asked, then took the beer and twisted off the cap, the bottle making that familiar hiss sound.

We toasted by tapping bottlenecks together, and then I followed with my response to his unanswered question. “To answer the first question. I’m up here often. It’s mostly quiet. It gives me peace of mind to watch and hear all the activity below.”

* * *

Colonel Travis’ last operational report had been very brief. In the early hours of the morning, on the second day of the outbreak, he had ordered seven soldiers who showed no signs of the disease to the roof for air evacuation. A half hour later he wrote that the evac had not happened, and that there was no longer radio contact with HQ. Shortly thereafter he committed suicide.

Max and I had been the first to access the roof, as I had been curious to see if his men had made it off the roof. As I neared the top of the stairwell, I noticed a blood trail that grew in density the further up the stairs I went. When I reached the top I discovered a massive bloodstain, but no body. There was, however, a remnant of a finger from someone’s left hand with a wedding band still wrapped around it. The piece of flesh appeared to have been bitten off, chewed on, and then spat out.

The door to the roof had been barred and locked from the inside, which struck me as wrong. In the colonel’s personal journal, he had written that he told his men to secure the roof with any means necessary in order to guarantee their safe evacuation. To me this meant they should have barricaded the door from the roof side. Besides, it was not possible to lock the door from the inside and close it behind them. I surmised that the door had been secured by whomever had been dragged down the stairs, perhaps in an act of self-sacrifice. When I finally made it to the roof I discovered no signs of Travis’ men. I cleaned up the blood and never told the others what Colonel Travis had written.

* * *