Fire Storm: A Post-Apocalyptic Conspiracy Thriller

Book 3: The Zulu Virus Chronicles

by Steven Konkoly

Genres: Horror; Post-Apocalyptic sci-fi; Military Thrillers; High-tech & Sci-fi Thrillers; Terrorism & Assassination Thrillers

Synopsis

"I found it amazing and complex...the thrills and action keep on coming."

SOMETHING MERCILESS WATCHES OVER THE OUTBREAK--GUIDING ITS COURSE.

Having narrowly survived the KILL BOX, HOT ZONE's hardened survivors and their KILL BOX allies separate to pursue different objectives--outside of the Indianapolis quarantine zone.

For David Olson, that means bringing his son south, to the safe haven of his parents' home--far away from the infected cities. Eric Larsen takes him up on the offer to rest and heal at the house, before departing on the long journey to find his family in Colorado.

For Rich and his secretive black ops team, that means transporting Dr. Chang and Dr. Hale to a secure facility out east, where they will join the nation's few surviving bioweapons researchers--with the hopes of pinpointing the source of the virus and possibly developing a vaccine.

Neither group will get very far, before the true face of the evil controlling the Zulu Virus arrives--tempting them with irresistible opportunities.

DANGEROUS OPPORTUNITIES, WITH THE POTENTIAL TO SWEEP THEM RIGHT INTO A LETHAL FIRESTORM

_________________________________________________________________________________
Steven's novels are recommended for fans of Brad Thor's Scot Harvath, Vince Flynn's Mitch Rapp, Brad Taylor's Pike Logan, Tom Clancy's Jack Ryan, Lee Child's Jack Reacher, Robert Ludlum's Jason Bourne, L.T. Ryan's Jack Noble, C.G. Cooper's Daniel Briggs, Daniel Silva's Gabriel Allon, Mark Greaney's Gray Man and Michael Crichton

Release date: February 15, 2018

Publisher: Stribling Media

Print pages: 229

Sample

Chapter 1

David Olson stood rigid on the Jeep Wrangler’s passenger running board, clinging tightly to the roof rack support bar. The vehicle barreled down the uneven road—way faster than Rich had promised. He glanced under the aluminum basket bolted to the roof rack and made eye contact with Larsen, who appeared equally uncomfortable with the ride. Joshua stood on the Jeep’s rear bumper, holding the back rim of the cargo basket—an excited look on his face. At least someone was having fun.

David still couldn’t process the sheer insanity of their escape from the quarantine zone. By all rights, they should be dead. Torn to pieces by the infected population. Their destiny had changed the moment Major Smith had decided to disobey orders and evacuate the civilians he’d been ordered to leave behind. The staff at the hospital. The refugees at NevoTech. David and his son. They all owed this second chance to a damn fine soldier, which wasn’t an easy thing for a Marine to admit.

Smith wasn’t the only one who had disobeyed orders, ultimately saving lives. Larsen refused his instructions to kill Chang, losing his entire team as a result, and giving Rich’s people a chance to expose the outbreak as a state-sponsored bioweapon. Possibly even find a cure to slow or stop it altogether.

The more he thought about it, disobeying orders had done more good over the past twenty-four hours than bad. Even David had played a part in all of this. If he hadn’t left the Westfield Police Department to take care of Joshua, everything might have turned out differently for Larsen and Chang that first night. They certainly couldn’t have stolen Chang’s plane without his help. It was all kind of mind-boggling. The hundreds of decisions that led to this moment. To seeing his son alive, a smile on his face. All worth it.

The vehicle slowed as the first evidence of Rushville appeared in the distance. Two billboards. One for a fast-food restaurant. The other for a walk-in clinic. The clinic had undoubtedly seen its share of virus victims. The town was close enough to Indianapolis that a substantial percentage of its population likely commuted to the capital for work, bringing the insidious virus back with them.

Rushville resembled the typical town found on the outer periphery of Indianapolis, larger than most of its neighboring townships due to its fortuitous placement on one of the main roads leading east into Ohio, but still little more than a rural farm town. Late last night, they’d passed through its quaint and surprisingly quiet downtown area, which was marked by several early twentieth-century limestone buildings—most of them occupied by local shops and banks. David had spotted a modest, three-story hospital on the northern end of town, before the dark cornfields of Indiana swallowed their convoy.

The street entrance to the hospital had been blocked by two HUMVEEs with turret-mounted machine guns. He imagined every medical facility within a hundred miles of Indianapolis was guarded by the military. A police cruiser had been parked closer to the hospital entrance, its emergency lighting flashing red and blue against the front of the building. How did Rushville’s small police force deal with the infected that had erratically emerged from the homes clustered around Main Street? He didn’t want to know. He vividly remembered the difficulties he’d faced as a police officer in Westfield, trying to hold back the tide of insanity unleashed by the virus. In less than two hours, he’d be on his way to Evansville, where the chances of running into one of the infected should be right around zero.

The Jeep eased into the opposing lane and came to a stop at the edge of a vast cornfield, roughly fifty yards from the two billboards. The signs would make an easy landmark for his dad’s convoy, and the cornfield could hide them from passing traffic while they waited. Not that he expected much traffic. Aside from a few farmhouses and double-wides, they hadn’t passed much of anything worth visiting on the short trip toward Rushville.

David wondered if they had stopped too soon. He really wanted to put more distance between his son and the makeshift refugee camp. It wouldn’t take the “powers that be” long to figure out Major Smith had violated his orders. If the wrong set of eyes put the pieces together, this middle-of-nowhere stretch of country road could get really busy—really quickly.

He hopped onto the pavement and scanned the road ahead. Nothing but horizon and distant low-rise buildings. Rushville was still out of sight. The Suburban stopped next to him, the rear driver’s side window already lowered. Through the window, he saw that Jack and Emma Harper had already squeezed out the door on the other side of the SUV.

“Thanks for the lift to the end of the block,” said David, putting his hand on the door.

Rich cocked his head with a grin. “After all I’ve done for you, that’s the thanks I get?”

“More like after all that you’ve done to me.”

They both laughed briefly, and Larsen joined them at the window.

“This’ll do fine,” said Larsen. “Though I’m a little worried about the military presence in Rushville. I didn’t like seeing HUMVEEs last night.”

“I don’t think it’ll be a problem. We saw a grand total of five military vehicles on the way in,” said Rich. “All at the hospital except for one parked behind the county administrative building. That’s probably a military liaison team working with county and state officials. They’re too busy to worry about a steady trickle of cars headed in this direction.”

“I expected to see more soldiers,” said David. “More activity on the roads. I don’t know if that’s a good or a bad thing.”

“Good, if I had to guess. Most of the military units are concentrated on the quarantine boundaries,” said Rich. “Based on what I saw in Russia, they’ll have to clear Indianapolis block by block, building by building—room by room. Every soldier not assigned to guard a hospital or key infrastructure point is probably massing for this attack right now. The longer they let this fester, the worse the outcome.”

“I can’t imagine the military sweeping the streets like that,” said Larsen.

“Sounds like they’re going to let the Air Force clean up a little before they send in the troops,” said Rich.

“They should just lock down the city and give this a week or two to run its course,” said Chang.

Even Rich looked surprised by the scientist’s statement.

“I know that sounds counterintuitive, but the more violent or irrational their behavior, the less they can take care of themselves. Basic functions like eating and drinking vanish at the high end of that spectrum. Within the span of a few days, the most violent will start to die of dehydration.”

“They won’t eat each other and drink each other’s blood?” said David, half joking.

“No,” said Chang. “They’re brain damaged to the point that they’ve lost most executive function. It would be in the government’s best interest to wait this out.”

“The Russians didn’t wait it out,” said the driver.

“No. They didn’t,” said Rich. “But they didn’t have experts to advise them on the matter. Not that we can drive Dr. Chang to Washington for a chat with the administration.”

“Not if we ever want to see him again,” said the woman in the front passenger seat. “We need to get rolling.”

“Yes. We do,” said Rich. “The sooner we reunite Dr. Chang with Dr. Greenberg, the better. With the two of them brainstorming the science side of this, we can tackle this nightmare from more than one angle.”

“I think we’re beyond fixing what happened out there,” said Larsen.

The SUV remained silent for a moment, each of them presumably flooded with emotions about the unspeakable attack. David found himself both sad and angry at the thought of anyone unleashing something this hideous—especially against regular people. Millions infected. An unfathomable number of families had been literally torn apart, like his own. Just the thought of it made his blood rise.

“Yeah. We’ve entered a new phase,” said Rich. “Retribution.”

“I hear that,” hissed David.

“I hope you get there,” said Larsen. “We all do.”

“I hope you get back to your family,” said Rich. “And I mean that sincerely. All of you. Safe travels. I assume you have a plan?”

David nodded. “My dad is headed up from southern Indiana. Should be quiet down there.”

“I’m headed west from there after I rest up,” said Larsen.

“I’m going to give them my phone,” said Chang, holding his satellite phone in front of Rich.

“I’m not giving them my number,” said Rich. “This is farewell.”

“Look for Greenberg in the contacts, just in case,” said Chang. “Never know.”

“Never know is right. Thank you,” said David, taking the phone before nodding at Rich. “Do some good—or whatever it is that you guys do.”

“Good is a relative term,” said Rich.

“I bet,” said Larsen, patting the side of the SUV. “See you on the other side.”

A few seconds later, the two vehicles sped south, leaving the seven of them in the middle of an empty road. David looked around at the ragtag group. Larsen pretty much looked the same as the moment he’d met him, except he was dirtier—and bloodier. The creek bath had only served to wash the outermost layer of filth and gore away. He still wore his tactical vest and thigh holster, rifle dangling from a one-point sling. The only thing missing was his night-vision-goggles-equipped helmet, which was in the very indiscreet military-style backpack strapped to his shoulders. The moment he stepped foot in town, there was no doubt that the police or military would arrest him on sight.

His two “colleagues” looked just as conspicuous; neither of them having abandoned any of their military-style equipment. At least one of them had made an attempt to clean up. The woman looked and smelled worse than Larsen. She could ride in one of his dad’s neighbors’ vehicles. He’d come across roadkill that smelled better.

The Harpers looked like—the Harpers—just a little grimier. How the two of them had survived the past twenty-four hours was sort of a mystery, but here they were. Jack still kept his grandfather’s pistol tucked into his pants, even though he’d expended the last of its ammunition during their “last stand” at the fence. David would replenish Jack’s supply when they got to Evansville. His father was a retired police officer who’d never transitioned to a semiautomatic pistol. He had plenty of .38-caliber ammunition in the house.

And then there was Joshua, standing tall next to the Harpers, the long M1A1 rifle held low across his hips. Somehow he was both a capable adult and helpless child at the same time in David’s eyes. He knew it didn’t make much sense, but two days ago, his son had been a pizza-eating, baseball-game-watching teenager. Today, he was a battle-tested, rifle-carrying warrior, having endured the unthinkable last night when they were overrun by crazies.

He hoped his son could go back to being that sleepy, junk-food-eating kid after this. That they could return home to the house and neighborhood they’d called home for more than a decade. That he could reunite Joshua with his mother. He still hadn’t told his son that his mom was alive and uninfected. Temporarily detained in a quarantine camp at Grissom Air Reserve Base. David didn’t see any reason to get his hopes up when there was nothing they could do right now to effectively help her.

Major Smith was right. Heading up to Grissom on their own was far too risky. Once the virus burned out, like Dr. Chang suggested, and the situation stabilized, David would travel to Grissom to find Meghan. Until then, he’d sit on that information. The last thing he needed was a newly emboldened Joshua Olson driving off in the middle of the night, with some kind of wild notion he could rescue his mom. David was done with wild ideas for now. The past forty-eight hours had been full of them.

“We should get off the road,” said Ragan.

“Yeah. Be our luck to have a state trooper drive by right now,” said Larsen.

David laughed. “Could you imagine?”

“I didn’t come this far to let a state trooper put an end to my trip,” said Ragan, a deadly serious look on her face.

“Then we better get out of sight,” said David before glancing at Larsen. “These are your friends?”

“I never said they were my friends,” said Larsen.

“My bad,” said David, wondering if he’d made a mistake inviting everyone to his parents’ place.


Chapter 2

Karyn Archer, Incident Zone Four’s commander, typed furiously on the tablet velcroed in place on her lap, oblivious to her surroundings. She needed to set a few things in motion before turning her attention to the mission at hand. The automated report containing Larsen’s card-swipe information hadn’t floated around in the digital cloud for five hours before finally registering in the integrated data network (IDN). The data had been purposefully withheld, and she needed to know how and why. More importantly, she wanted to know who.

She’d start her investigation with the military unit that originated the data. Specifically, a universal card reader terminal registered to Special Purpose Force (SPF) Bravo, 2nd Battalion, 151st Infantry Regiment—one of several Indiana National Guard units assigned hospital-evacuation missions inside the primary quarantine boundary. A few more keystrokes would activate an Ajax contingency protocol designed to handle more sensitive missions. The kind that couldn’t be solved with a GPS-guided bomb or a small team of loyal operatives.

Archer would let the Colonel figure out how to handle this one. She didn’t have the authority to put an entire infantry company under house arrest. Even if she did, Archer didn’t have the resources to back up that authority. An entire battalion of National Guard soldiers stood in the way.

SPF Bravo, commanded by Major Nick Smith, was assigned to Provisional Operating Base (POB) Greenfield, a massive, hastily assembled collection of tent-cities set up to accommodate military units delivering infected citizens to the quarantine detention and disposal center a few miles east of town. The disposal aspect of the facility was a secret—even to military commanders and local government officials carrying out federal orders within the incident zone (IZ).

She checked the last few boxes on the tablet screen and sent the report to Cooper. Hopefully she’d have some actionable intelligence before he responded with a plan of action. According to the pilot’s last update, they’d arrive over their destination in less than fifteen minutes.

Archer had no idea what to expect on the two-lane road north of Rushville. The location was odd, to say the least. An out-of-the-way road that Major Smith didn’t have any business travelling, from what she could tell. Then again, for all she knew, Larsen might have hijacked one of Smith’s vehicles somehow and randomly swiped the card during his escape. That was the least likely of scenarios she’d run through her head.

Most likely, Smith had somehow met up with Larsen in the city. Maybe at the hospital—a likely place for Larsen to seek help if he was injured. He’d probably persuaded Smith to smuggle him out of the city, filling the soldier’s head with enough conspiracy theories about the outbreak to convince him to disable his vehicle’s digital transmitter. For whatever reason, Smith had run the identification card through the card reader on the road outside Rushville. Maybe he was suspicious. Who knew? Maybe Smith booted him from the vehicle after running the card and seeing that the badge was crap.

If that was the case, she might have a chance to wrap this up quickly. He couldn’t get very far on foot in five hours. Especially starting off at night.

“Jesus. Check this out!” said Ecker, who sat across from her in the Black Hawk’s troop compartment.

Archer turned her head left toward the half-closed port-side cargo door. Jesus was right. She leaned forward to get a better look. An Apache helicopter raced past them, headed directly toward the hazy city skyline, gray puffs of smoke trailing behind it. The sharp crack of 30mm gunfire echoed through the compartment a few seconds later.

“Pilot!” she said through her headset microphone. “Are we clear of the kill box?”

“Yes, ma’am. We’re a mile out,” replied the pilot. “Not sure what the hell was up with that? Maybe had some targets close to the quarantine line.”

“That can’t be good,” said Ecker. “Hate to think the infected are ranging out that far.”

“Pilot, take us five miles south of the quarantine line—so we don’t get shot down by some overeager Apache pilot,” said Archer.

“Copy that, ma’am,” said the pilot. “It’ll add some time to our trip.”

“I’m good with that,” she said.

Without warning, the helicopter banked hard right, pressing her into the operative to her left, who remained rigidly upright on the bench. A few seconds later, they were headed away from the quarantine line, dropping altitude and picking up speed.

“Like the Wild West out here,” said Ecker.

“Something like that,” she said, not in the mood for any conversation.

Unfortunately, Ecker didn’t take the hint.

“What’s the plan when we reach the target destination?” said Ecker.

“Same as yesterday. If Larsen is on site, we take him into custody,” said Archer. “If he’s compliant.”

Ecker nodded slowly, the grimace on his face acknowledging what she didn’t want to say over the helicopter communications net. Larsen was a dead man as far as she was concerned.


Chapter 3

Rich closely watched the soldiers standing next to the HUMVEE for the slightest irregularity. Cigarettes and Styrofoam cups in hand, they stood in a semicircle around the rear driver’s side door, taking a break from whatever was going on inside the limestone building. The soldiers never glanced in his direction.

“Looks like we’re clear,” said Rich before closing his eyes and leaning his head against the headrest.

The SUV picked up speed, heading east for the town limits. A few minutes later, the small town of Rushville faded away, the vehicle swallowed by cornfields on both sides of Route 44. He’d been on the ground here for less than twelve hours, and he was already done with cornfields. Why anyone would live in the Midwest was beyond him. He turned to Chang and Dr. Laura Hale.

“Did you guys eat yet?”

“I haven’t been very hungry,” said Chang.

“I could eat a horse at this point,” said Hale.

Rich reached over the seat for the box of MREs behind him.

“A little to the left,” said Scott Daly in the back of the SUV.

Rich lifted himself higher to get a better view of his wounded operative. Scott lay diagonally across the cramped compartment, his torso leaning upright at a shallow angle against a rucksack in the far back corner. Hale, putting her emergency-room skills to good use, had taped a wide bandage around his abdomen, but dark blood was already peeking through the white outer wrapping. Ideally, they’d have him lying flat on a stretcher, but this was as comfortable as they could make him with the addition of Chang and Hale to the crew. He got the distinct feeling Hale would have her hands full on this ride.

“How are you doing back there?” said Rich, the answer written on Scott’s face.

“I’ve seen worse,” said the operative.

“Say the word if you get uncomfortable,” started Rich, the operative raising an eyebrow. “Significantly more uncomfortable than you are now.”

Scott laughed at his joke, quickly cutting it off. “Damn, that hurts.”

“Good thing I’m not a comedian,” said Rich. “Seriously. Don’t suffer in silence.”

“He won’t,” said Daniel from the driver’s seat, igniting another quick round of laughter.

“Fuck. You guys are killing me,” said Scott. “Literally.”

Rich grabbed the first two MREs his hands touched in the box and smirked at Scott before sitting forward in his seat. He took a quick look at each bag.

“Let’s see what the chef prepared for you today,” said Rich, grimacing as he read the choices. “Beef stew or chicken chunks.”

“That’s some bad luck,” said Jessica from the front passenger seat.

“Bad luck for all of us,” said Daniel.

He dangled them in front of Chang and Hale.

“Neither really sounds appealing,” said Hale, glancing over the seat. “Any other choices?”

“Sorry. There’s kind of an unwritten code surrounding MREs. You get what you get, and you don’t get upset,” said Rich. “Chicken or beef?”

“What if I’m a vegetarian?” said Hale.

“Then you’re entitled to a vegetarian MRE,” said Rich. “If we had any.”

“I’ll take the beef,” said Chang. “Chicken chunks sounds pretty bad.”

“Chivalry is dead,” said Jessica.

“Sorry. I’ll take the chicken,” said Chang.

“Chicken is fine,” said Hale.

He handed over the thick plastic bags. “Eat up and get some shut-eye. We have a long trip ahead of us.”

“Where are we headed?” said Chang.

“For a rendezvous with your colleague Dr. Greenberg,” said Rich.

“Where—as in location,” said Chang.

“Allegheny Mountains,” said Rich. “Maybe eighty miles from Charlottesville. Seven hours away if we don’t run into any complications. We’re going to get off the interstate by Dayton and take some back roads until we get into West Virginia. Cincinnati and Columbus have the same problem as Indianapolis.”

“I can’t believe other cities are dealing with this,” said Hale.

“Twenty-four that we know of,” said Rich.

“Does the government have any idea who’s behind the attacks?” said Hale.

Jessica turned her head and gave Hale a funny look.

“That’s a tough pill to swallow,” said Hale. “Our own government killing millions of its citizens. For what?”

“Who else could pull off a coordinated strike this big?”

“It’s not the government. This is something working within the government or alongside it,” said Rich. “Has been for a long time.”

“True America?” said Chang. “Greenberg made a comment a while back, but backed off it pretty quick. I didn’t push. Everyone has heard some kind of rumor about the mess back in 2008.”

Daniel looked over his shoulder at Chang.

“2007, actually, and the rumors were true. But that was just the start of it,” said Rich. “Turned out to be little more than a distraction. True America was the distraction—and the vessel.”

“If True America isn’t behind this, who is?” said Hale.

“That’s a complicated question,” said Rich. “We’ve cut the head off this snake twice already, but it keeps growing back.”

“We have a long drive ahead of us,” said Chang. “I’d like to hear the full story.”

“You’re not going to believe it,” said Rich.

“Try me,” said Chang. “The past forty-eight hours have been anything but normal.”

Rich laughed. “Dogfighting with Army helicopters and ditching your Cessna on the interstate isn’t normal?”

“Not at all,” said Chang, pausing. “And it was a perfect landing. Ditching is more of a controlled crash.”

“Hang out with us long enough and you’ll get used to controlled crashes,” said Rich.

“That’s our specialty,” said Daniel.

“Wonderful,” said Hale.

“You don’t have anything to worry about,” said Rich. “You’re in good hands now.”

“Jeff is slowing down,” said Daniel.

Rich leaned forward and peered beyond Daniel’s head. The Jeep’s brake lights glowed bright through the windshield, his earpiece crackling a moment later.

“I’ve got a police Interceptor up on the left,” said Rico. “Parked in the self-storage lot, pointing east.”

He craned his head a little farther, spotting the white and black SUV. It was positioned to observe vehicles entering town, not leaving. Still. Better safe than sorry. Rich grabbed the MP7 submachine gun leaning against the door and extended the stock, placing the compact weapon on his lap. Between the front seats, he saw that Jessica had done the same.

“What are you doing?” said Chang.

“Police car coming up on the left,” said Rich.

“Why would you need—” started Chang. “Jesus. What’s wrong with you people?”

Rich let Chang’s naïve question slide, hoping Daniel and Jessica had the good sense to do the same. Never could tell with those two.

“You wouldn’t actually kill a police officer. Right?” said Hale.

“No. We have nonlethal ways to deal with things like this,” said Rich, placing his MP7 back against the door. “Hard habit to break. Everyone take it easy.”

The police officer inside the vehicle sipped an oversized travel mug, paying little attention to their vehicles. With the police car fading quietly into the distance behind them, the Jeep picked up speed and the small convoy sped east—an awkward, protracted silence bearing down on the SUV’s cabin. It was going to be a long ride with these two.


Chapter 4

Gary Hoenig shook his head and muttered a few curses. The faint thumping of helicopter rotors echoed through the woods. Still too far away to determine the number and type of helicopters—but they were getting closer. He had a bad feeling about this, just like he did back at NevoTech.

“Fitz, I think we need to prepare for visitors,” said Hoenig. “Let’s move the civilians back from the road another fifty yards or so. Get them in a more compact area with as much cover as possible.”

“There’s a small area with some thick, downed trees that should work,” said Fitzgerald. “Be pretty hard to spot us back there.”

Hoenig turned around, quickly spotting the area Fitz intended to use. Two wide, overlapping tree trunks lay across the forest floor, parallel to the road. Beyond the fallen trees, the woods were dense with bushes. Good for hiding the remaining mix of eighty or so civilians from NevoTech and Methodist Hospital. Not perfect, but it should do the trick.

Spotting them from above, through the thick green forest canopy, would be nearly impossible, especially if they made use of the ground foliage. The helicopters’ best chance of finding them would be to fly low along the road and scan the forest floor with thermal-imaging equipment. No matter how hard they tried to hide, thermal sights would catch an arm or a leg through the bushes. Probably a few of each. More than enough to warrant a closer look. Then what?

Roscoe must have been reading his mind, or at least his face. “How do you want to handle security?” said his sharpshooter. “In case they do spot us—and decide to pay us a close-up visit.”

“With nine of us left, I say we break into teams of two and form a square around the survivors,” said Hoenig. “A team in each corner of the square. That puts four guns on each axis of approach. We set the corners about twenty-five yards out from the main group. That way, if we’re forced to engage our visitors, return fire won’t be directed at the civilians. One of us will stay with the survivors and make sure they stay down.”

“Sounds good,” said Roscoe, cocking his head toward the branches above them.

The deep rhythmic thumping had intensified.

“Let’s get everyone moving,” said Hoenig. “It’s going to take a few minutes to move the injured.”

Fitzgerald started to move, but stopped, turning around to face Hoenig.

“Any way we might be able to get in touch with Larsen and company?” said Fitzgerald. “If this gets ugly, we could use some help. At the very least, maybe they can get to the hospital and draw attention to our situation. Get some witnesses out here.”

“Witnesses?” said Hoenig, immediately understanding the implication. “Jesus. I hope it doesn’t come to that.”

“We need to assume that it will,” said Fitzgerald. “At the very least, we need to be prepared for it. If those unmarked helicopters show up, looking to clean up whatever mess they left back in the city, I’d feel a lot better with a few Army HUMVEEs headed our way. Hell, I’d settle for a police car or two.”

“I don’t see how they could have found us, or why they’d bother with us,” said Hoenig. “I’d hate to unnecessarily draw attention to the remaining refugees. The Army will put them in quarantine camps.”

“Better than a mass grave in the middle of fucking nowhere,” said Fitzgerald.

“I’ll call Larsen. Put him on standby in case we have a problem,” said Hoenig. “Right now we need to focus on getting everyone out of sight. These people are our responsibility.”

“Got it,” said Fitzgerald before slapping Roscoe’s shoulder. “Grab the group that migrated closer to the road. I’ll organize the rest of the team and start moving the survivors.”

“I’m all over it,” said Roscoe, taking off for the small group waiting to be picked up near the road.

Hoenig removed his phone from a cargo pocket and dialed David Olson’s number, hoping the signal was strong enough to make a connection. Cell coverage had been spotty this far out of town.


Chapter 5

Eric Larsen stood a few feet outside the cornfield, staring north down the empty road. Searching for the source of the ominous noise. Helicopters. And more than one judging by the sound of it.

“It’s probably a routine troop transport mission,” said David, stepping out of the cornstalks and looking in the same direction.

“Maybe. Maybe not,” said Larsen.

“Well, there’s nothing we can do about it either way,” said David. “Worst-case scenario—they get rounded up by the military and put in a quarantine camp. Shitty. But not the end of the world. None of them are sick, so they’ll be fine in the end.”

“That’s the best-case scenario,” said Larsen. “I’m thinking about the unmarked helicopters that paid NevoTech a visit and blasted a hole in the fence.”

“How could they have tracked us?” said David.

“I don’t know, but Major Smith’s convoy isn’t exactly discreet,” said Larsen. “Maybe the soldiers at the hospital reported seeing it pass by—twice in the same night. It wouldn’t exactly take a stroke of genius to put two and two together, especially if Smith’s vehicles could be tracked to NevoTech.”

“He disabled all the GPS tracking related to their transit to and from the forest site,” said David.

“I know, but we’re dealing with a nasty group of people who are hell-bent on closing the loop on Dr. Chang, and me,” said Larsen, triggering a thought. “Shit.”

“What?” said David, looking at him with wide eyes.

“I swiped my ID card through their system last night.”

“It was offline,” said David. “Using cached data.”

“Right,” said Larsen. “But Smith would have brought his convoy back online when he returned. They only left a few hours ago.”

“I don’t know,” said David. “I bet it’s like Rich said. They’re moving every available soldier to the city. We’ll probably be hearing helicopters all morning. At least until we get farther away from here.”

“I don’t like the timing,” said Larsen.

A phone buzzed, causing them both to look around.

“Has to be you,” said Larsen. “I don’t have a cell phone.”

“Crap,” said David, patting his vest.

A few seconds later, he removed the phone and checked the caller ID—shrugging his shoulder.

“You gonna answer it?” said Larsen.

“I don’t know,” said David. “Can’t be from inside the quarantine zone.”

“Maybe it’s Gary,” said Larsen. “Answer it.”

David put the phone to his ear and nodded at the voice on the other end.

“It’s Gary. He said the helicopters are really close to their location. Moving slowly like they’re searching,” said David. “They’re moving everyone into a defensive position. He wants us to go to the hospital and be ready to make contact with the Army or local police if it turns out to be more than a flyby.”

“It’s more than a flyby if they’re creeping along,” said Larsen. “He wants us to get the Army involved? That’ll get everyone sent to a quarantine camp.”

David relayed Larsen’s concerns and waited.

“Only if the helicopters turn out to be the unmarked kind,” said David.

“Can’t we just call nine-one-one?” said Larsen.

“Smith said that the nine-one-one system was down hard in this area. One of his bulletins said it was a centralized dispatch group based out of Indianapolis,” said David.

“Great. Tell Gary that we’ll start moving toward the hospital. He should just text us from now on, since cell phone coverage sucks,” said Larsen.

While David coordinated a system of communications with Gary, Larsen squinted at the northern horizon, certain that he saw the helicopters. His eyes were probably playing tricks on him, since the distant image vanished just as quickly as it appeared. David lowered the phone and nodded.

“They’re forming a perimeter around the survivors,” said David.

“How many do they have on site?”

“I think I remember him saying around ninety or so,” said David.

Ragan and McDermott, the other two CHASE operatives, stepped out of the cornfield to join them.

“Doesn’t sound good,” said McDermott, motioning to the north.

“We don’t know that,” said David.

Larsen shook his head, meeting McDermott’s knowing glance.

Ragan grimaced, muttering under her breath, “They’ll murder every person in that forest if they get the chance.”

“Then we need to get someone down to the hospital in case something goes wrong,” said David.

“Sounds like you just volunteered,” said McDermott.

David rolled his eyes. “Fine. I’ll take my son. I should grab one of the Harpers’ numbers so we can stay in touch.”

“If you approach those soldiers, they might take the two of you into custody,” said Larsen. “Are you sure you want to do this?”

“If it’ll save lives, there’s really no choice,” said David. “Plus I still have my badge. That should be enough to keep me out of trouble.”

“Let’s hope,” said Larsen.

When David disappeared into the cornfield to get his son, Ragan turned to him.

“We might want to consider finding some better cover,” she said. “If that task force was sent to find Chang, or you, they’ll be on our trail shortly. A lot of people saw us leave with the other group of operatives.”

“Barely fifteen minutes ago,” said McDermott. “With half of us riding the running boards, they’ll figure out we didn’t go too far on those vehicles.”

“Thermal imaging will find us pretty fast in these cornfields,” said Ragan.

She was right. The cornstalks weren’t thick enough to block their heat signatures from a downward-looking imaging device. A helicopter passing indirectly overhead would find them. He glanced south, in the direction of Rushville. A few scattered buildings were visible about a mile away.

“Looks like we’re all headed toward town,” said Larsen. “Should have worn my running shoes.”

“I told you we should have let them drop us off closer to town,” said Ragan.

“You afraid of a little jog?” said Larsen.

“Fuck you, Larsen,” said Ragan. “I could outrun your ass long before you got that little scratch.”

“Little scratch? More like a 7.62mm bullet fired from a minigun,” said Larsen.

“Still looks like a scratch,” she said, smirking.

He shook his head, laughing. “You know? You’re all right, Ragan. I had my doubts, but I think you’re okay.”

“I’m reserving judgment about you until we’re out of this mess,” said Ragan.

The helicopter rotor beats got louder for a moment before they faded to a distant muffled thumping.

“Things are about to heat up,” said McDermott. “We need to get out of here.”

What they really needed was a ride out of here. He wondered how far Rich’s convoy had travelled at this point. They couldn’t be too far past Rushville. Maybe they’d be willing to turn one of the vehicles around to help them out. Doubtful, but Larsen didn’t see a downside to asking. They could probably get back here within ten minutes, and it would be in Rich’s best interest to keep Larsen and the rest of this crew out of the wrong hands. Every one of them knew Chang was still alive, which could complicate matters for Rich and his team. It was worth a try.

Larsen pulled out his satellite phone and located “Greenberg” in the contacts, dialing Chang’s colleague.

“Eugene?” said the voice on the other end of the connection.

“Sorry to bother you, Dr. Greenberg, but Dr. Chang gave me this phone in case of an emergency. My name is Larsen.”

“Is everything all right?” said Greenberg. “I was under the impression Dr. Chang was safe and on his way.”

“He is, but there might be a complication that could jeopardize his safety,” said Larsen, proud of his quick improvisation.

McDermott raised an eyebrow and nodded, approving of his tactic. Larsen shrugged his shoulders and continued.

“We have helicopters in the area,” said Larsen. “My guess is they’re looking for Chang.”

A new voice joined the conversation. “Eric? This is Terrence. Sorry to hijack your conversation with Dr. Greenberg, but I need to make a quick assessment. I understand that you were dropped off a few miles south of the forest refugee site. Are the helicopters heading for the forest or you?”

Shit. He wasn’t going to pull a fast one on this group.

“We believe they’re headed for the forest,” said Larsen. “I’ve been in touch with the security officer in charge of the refugee group. They’re gathering everyone in a defensive position.”

“I don’t mean to sound unsympathetic, Eric, but I’d rather put distance between the helicopters and my people rather than bring them closer.”

“I completely understand your concern,” said Larsen. “But we’re on foot, and I don’t think we’ll get far enough away to evade detection from the air.”

“Why would they waste their time on you?” said Terrence. “Why not track the Suburban and Jeep?”

“Because we rode out of there on the running boards. It’s obvious you weren’t taking us far,” said Larsen. “They’d have no reason to follow your vehicles unless they suspected Chang was along for the ride. Nobody in the forest knows that Chang is still alive. Everyone knows who I am. They’ll look for us first, and if they find us—Chang will be in danger. Travelling at close to two hundred miles per hour, following the few roads leading out of Rushville, I can’t imagine it’ll take the helicopters long to find Chang.”

“That’s thin, Eric,” said Terrence.

“All we really need is one vehicle,” said Larsen. “They can drop us off at the hospital. We’ll be safe there.”

“I wouldn’t make that assumption,” said Terrence.

“It’ll guarantee that Chang makes it out safely,” said Larsen. “Even if we’re eventually taken into custody at the hospital and subjected to interrogation, your people will be long gone.”

An extended pause ensued.

“Hello?” said Larsen.

“You got me thinking,” said Terrence. “We might have a unique opportunity here. It’s a long shot, but the payoff would be remarkable.”

“You forgot to mention risk,” said Larsen. “I assume this unique opportunity carries a significant risk?”

“I left that out for a reason,” said Terrence. “The risk will be high, and I’m going to need your help should this opportunity materialize. That’s the price of sending my people back into town to pick you up.”

“That’s one hell of a price,” said Larsen. “I’m not sure it’s worth it.”

“It’s your call,” said Terrence. “Like I said, the whole thing is a long shot, but if it pays off—you might get these people off your back permanently.”

“All right. Turn your crew around,” said Larsen. “I’m in.”

“You haven’t heard the plan,” said Terrence.

“I don’t need to. It’s going to suck, and it’s probably going to get me killed,” said Larsen.

“That about sums it up.”

“I’m still in,” said Larsen.

“What about the rest?” said Terrence.

Larsen nodded at Ragan and McDermott. “You two up for some payback?”

“Fuck yeah,” said Ragan.

McDermott shrugged his shoulders. “Why the fuck not?”

“My two colleagues are in,” said Larsen.

“Are they as good as you?”

“As good, if not better,” said Larsen, winking at Ragan.

“The latter,” she said.

“Then it’s settled,” said Terrence. “I’ll reroute three of my people and one vehicle.”

“We have seven that need to be moved,” said Larsen.

“I’ll make it work,” said Terrence. “Keep this line open. Rich will be in touch shortly.”

“We’ll get moving—” he started, realizing the call had been disconnected.

“That sounded interesting,” said Ragan.

“Don’t get too excited,” said Larsen. “Whatever he has planned, we’re the bait.”

“Who’s the bait?” said David, appearing between the cornstalks with Joshua.

“I got us a ride out of here,” said Larsen.

“You didn’t answer my question,” said David.

“There’s been a slight change of plans,” said Larsen.

“Slight?” said David. “Sounds a little bigger than that.”

“Nothing has changed for you and Joshua,” said Larsen. “Or the Harpers.”

“What about you?” said David before glancing at Ragan and McDermott. “And them?”

“If the opportunity arises, we’re going to help Rich and his crew with something,” said Larsen.

“Something?”

“Something risky,” said Larsen. “Something that involves going after my employer.”

“Let’s circle back to the bait thing,” said David. “How exactly does that work?”

“I don’t know,” said Larsen. “I think this is more of a fluid plan than a solid one.”

David shook his head. “Joshua, grab the Harpers. They should stick with us for now. At least until this plan takes a little more shape.”

Joshua started to leave, but Larsen stopped him.

“Maybe you should hold off on heading to the hospital,” said Larsen. “Until Rich gets here. They can drive you into town really fast if that’s what becomes necessary. It’s going to take you close to a half hour to get there on foot, anyway. I hate to say this, but whatever’s going to happen to the people in the forest will be over by the time you get there.”

“We have to try something,” said David. “Even if we can’t make a difference for the people in the forest, we can at least keep them from sweeping us away with those miniguns. We need to get some witnesses out there.”

He raised the satellite phone. “I’ll call this Terrence guy back and tell him to look for your group on the side of the road. They can run you to the hospital before coming here for the rest of us.”

“Fair enough,” said David, nodding at his son. “Get the Harpers ready to move.”

Larsen scanned the blue skies to the north, wondering if this whole thing hadn’t been a false alarm. The rotor blade noise had decreased. The helicopters were moving away from them. The real question was whether the helicopters were headed away from the forest. He imagined they’d find out soon enough.