Extermination Day (3 page)

As they walked, men in white coats sped by in small golf carts and on
Segways.

It was an amazing sight this deep underground, cut into the limestone cavern in New Mexico. Jeff didn’t know how much more he could absorb.

Dr. Conner gestured at the huge development before them. “Mr. Madison, welcome to the Chronos Project. We should find Dr. Chen in the control tower.”

As they walked, mobiles began pinging like a symphony orchestra as techs and scientists and whatever else they were started getting messages from outside. Shocked looks spread from face to face. A woman screamed. Several people ran for the closed doors leading to the elevator. An argument broke out between two men in white coats and two security guards who’d apparently recently been stationed at the elevators.

Jeff could feel the tension and panic spread as he, Dr. Conner, and the two Secret Service agents hustled toward the control tower.

“Are we locked in here?” Jeff asked.

“The facility is designed to go into automatic shutdown in case of an outside emergency,” Conner said. “We have our own fuel source and enough food and water to last for up to a year. We also recycle our own air using the hydroponics lab we constructed in an adjacent chamber.” He had himself under control, at least momentarily, and was acting more rationally now. But his voice was still rough, and his eyes were glassy.

“I hope your Dr. Chen can shed light on what’s happening. Otherwise he’s going to have a riot on his hands with people trying to get out of here,” Jeff said. “If you guys knew something was going to happen, and from what I’ve seen and heard, you did, why didn’t you warn the rest of us?”

“Dr. Chen mentioned a few days ago that there was the possibility of an attack, but we had no idea of its nature or scale. The terrorist attack on Washington caught us by surprise.”

“Right . . . So what about the safe room you had for your family?”

“I tend to worry more than most people. And I like to be prepared for any contingency. Even the remote ones. My wife, on the other hand, thinks nothing could ever happen to her and that my prognostications are just fairy tales.” He paused to press his hand to his heart. “I should’ve done more to convince her.” His voice trailed off, a tear rolled down his cheek, and he looked desperately to the cavern’s roof, as if pleading with the heavens to roll back time.

They finally reached the tower and entered
an elevator. The smell of fresh paint was still in the air as the elevator gently rose from the ground floor. The busy sounds outside were closed off and they were all left with their own thoughts until a man greeted them when the doors opened.

“Abe, thank God you’re here and safe.”The speaker was a tall, wiry, olive-skinned man with thick white hair. His accent was slightly British. He had western European features, with a thick jaw and long face, but his eyes were slanted and dark, declaring his Asian ancestry. He looked to be about seventy. “And this gentleman?” he asked, pointing rudely at Jeff.

“Congressman Jeff Madison at your service,” Jeff said, extending his hand, pressing his lips together, and nodding in acknowledgment of the gravity of their circumstances.

In return, he got a glare rather than a handshake.

“I thought the vice president was going to be here. What the hell happened?” The man actually yelled at Conner.

“I don’t know. When I went to the waiting room, he was the only one there.”

Tom, who’d followed at Jeff’s heels the whole way, said, “Dr. Chen, I presume?”

“Who else would I be?”

“The vice president had a last-minute change of plans and is currently on Air Force Two being taken to another location. We were sent here to guard Congressman Madison. We don’t have knowledge of the vice president’s current location.”

Dr. Chen snorted. “Last-minute fuck-ups.” He turned abruptly and marched over to the bank of computer screens and started giving orders to the scientists and technicians in the control room. Then he pressed a button and leaned toward a microphone.

“Men and women of Project Chronos, I’ve sure you’ve all seen the news on the Stream by now. We’re closely monitoring the situation. I will be talking with Defense Command momentarily to find out more information. In the meantime, do not panic. Return to your duties. Final preparations need to be completed very quickly now, and I need everyone to focus. Remember, the work we are doing could save everyone. I’ll keep you posted as I find out more.”

Down below, on the other side of large glass panels, a dozen or so people looked up at the control tower as if God himself had just spoken from the clouds. After Chen’s
speech, a few of the scientists were still sobbing and milling around; however, most folded away their portables and shuffled back to whatever tasks they’d been working on.

“I think it’s time you told me what the hell this project is and how Dr. Conner here knew that something horrible was going to happen today.” Jeff was pissed off, and the tension of the last few minutes was wearing down his patience.

“I’m sorry, Congressman, but you don’t have clearance to know any more, and you’ve already seen too much as it is,” Chen replied, thrusting his hand dismissively toward Jeff. “I don’t mean to be rude, but I’ve got a lot on my plate. We have a conference room downstairs where you can wait until things settle down.”

Jeff had no intention of being so cavalierly dismissed. He’d just watched the entire Congress and the president die horrific deaths. He couldn’t get in touch with his ex-wife and son and daughter. People were dying outside the Capitol building and around Washington. He didn’t want to be stuck in some damned conference room while the action was clearly centered right
where he was now.

“With all due respect, Dr. Chen, I think I’ll wait right here. As a representative of the U.S. government, I have the right to monitor this situation, and it seems you have just the information I need streaming right into this high-tech control room.”

“As you wish,” Chen said, rushing off to another work station. He was obviously not willing to argue or waste time on Jeff. “Just stay out of the way.”

Jeff looked around the control room and saw maybe twenty workstations, about half of which were filled with scientists. Each workstation had one or two large computer screens flashing information. Some of the screens showed the large domed device—or parts of it—in 3D detail, with pop-up data boxes streaming numbers and other engineering information that Jeff didn’t understand. Several other screens showed data from around the world, including proprietary feeds from news agencies and
LiveStream.

LiveStream
, developed about twenty years earlier, allowed any user with a mobile device to instantaneously stream video and audio to the web. It became so popular that now all devices were equipped with it. Basically, everyone had their own personal TV station broadcasting their life as it unfolded. With millions of LiveStreams hitting the net, search engines had been developed to sort through the broadcasts. Viewers could find just about anything on the stream and watch every second of someone’s life, from the lives of pro athletes to accountants. There were even pet streams that allowed viewers to follow dogs around all day, if that was their interest.

Jeff clenched one hand; following poodles and
Yorkies was one of his daughter’s favorite pastimes.

Users could turn off their own streams if they wanted, but most people never did. Personal privacy had become a dated concept left forgotten in the past.

Although a lot of useless crap passed through LiveStream, the system provided real-time coverage and firsthand accounts of what was going on during newsworthy events. So Jeff found a seat at the side of the room and starting checking out the streams.

He quickly
discovered that the terrorist attack went far beyond the Washington beltway. People were dropping and dying all over the world. He felt almost numb to all the death, as if it wasn’t real, as if he was watching another disaster movie from Hollywood. But the thought that he could’ve actually lost everyone and everything he ever cared about made him feel like he’d been stabbed deep in the stomach. He swallowed to suppress the bile and vomit building at the back of his throat.

Several Asian scientists were gathered around one screen that showed Tiananmen Square in Beijing. The square was filled with bodies and blood, not a single soul moving. Another screen showed downtown New York City,
where cars had crashed and lay smoking in the streets. In Moscow, Red Square was indeed red, with the blood of hundreds. In Paris, trails of smoke rose around the Eiffel Tower as people died. Several planes fell from the sky, crashing in fiery explosions, and chaos made its way across the land.

“It looks like the major cities around the world are being hit at the same time,” one young scientist said. “Let’s look at a rural area, something like central Iowa.”

A view high above a small Corn Belt town appeared on the feed. Using a satellite, they zoomed in on an isolated farm. Outdoor lights were still shining, showing cattle, sheep, chicken, and horses eating and strolling around casually, as if nothing unusual were happening. The map overlay indicated a feed streaming from inside the farmhouse. The scientist touched the screen to access the feed.

The scene changed instantly to a little girl holding her portable in front of her face, talking with someone via video chat. In the background her mom cooked at a stove. Her father walked in the door wearing dirty coveralls. Two steps into the room, he started coughing the same horrible, deep cough Jeff had been hearing all night. Blood starting dripping down his face. The girl screamed, “Daddy, daddy! Mommy, come help daddy please!” He fell to the floor. Then the mother and the little girl started to cough at the same time. As the girl fell forward, she dropped her portable and it slid across the kitchen
tile. All that was left of the feed was the ceiling, choking sounds, and then silence.

The room grew quieter as feeds poured in from around the world. What started in major population centers spread within a matter of minutes to even the most rural areas. The human population was being massacred. Jeff searched the faces of the scientists. They had no more answers than he did. But he did recognize one fact.

This was more than just a terrorist attack.

Midnight,
January 16, 2038

Air Force
Two Flying Over Atlanta, Georgia, USA

Vice President Charles “Buddy” Paulson sat in his leather chair in the presidential office aboard Air Force Two, trying to take in the gravity of the catastrophe.

The bastards! When they sorted this out, whoever did it would pay. They’d kill them all. Damned terrorist dogs.

He felt a stroke of grief that quickly festered into searing anger as he thought again of how Martin had collapsed on the floor of the House chamber.

“I’ll get them,” he quietly promised.

“Sir, they’re ready for you,” Melinda told him as she poked her head into the office. She was one of his young, very young, staffers. Her eyes were red-rimmed, but she was holding it together.

Paulson rose slowly from his chair.

It was time.

He walked down the short corridor to the main conference room, where six or seven staff members and a couple folks from the press corps were waiting. He circled
to the head of the table, where U.S. District Court Judge Jennifer Hughes also waited.

“Are you ready, sir?” she solemnly asked.

Paulson nodded.

“Repeat after me,” she said.

And somewhere high above the Eastern seaboard, unseen by most of the world, Judge Hughes administered the presidential oath of office that legally made Charles Paulson the forty-ninth President of the United State of America.

Paulson drew in a deep breath, raised his right hand, and repeated the simple words. “I do solemnly swear that I will faithfully execute the Office of the President of the United States, and will to the best of my ability, preserve, protect and defend the Constitution of the United States.”

There was no joy in what Paulson said. He felt no thrill to be president, not at the expense of Martin Diaz’s life. There was only the aching loss, the grief at lives needlessly and ruthlessly wasted. He inhaled another deep breath, knowing he carried a heavy burden into office. The scope of the tragedy was just unfolding, but the devastation was unlike anything America or the world had seen before.

After the oath was administered and the scattering of staff, observers, and press wished him luck, he returned to his office. He’d been trying to get updates from military bases and government installations over the last few hours, but hadn’t had much success
getting any more information than he was finding on the streams.

“Sir, NORAD is on the line,” Melinda said over the intercom. “They have updates for you.”

“About fucking time,” Buddy muttered under his breath. He tapped the screen at the right side of his desk and pulled up the video call from General Thaddeus T. Rowan, commander at NORAD.

“General, I hope you have good news.”

The General’s hard face came into view in a hologram above the desk. He was just a few years younger than Paulson, and they’d known each other for years. Rowan’s face normally showed no emotion about even the gravest of national threats, but today, Paulson read the stress, the ignorance, in his eyes.

“Sir, unfortunately there is no good news. The attack began at twenty-one thirty hours—about nine-thirty p.m. in Washington—and was near simultaneous around the world. There is no response from any of our major bases. Drones and video feeds show that everyone on those bases is dead. Our military has been decimated. All above-ground bases likely have a one
hundred percent casualty rate. This attack, sir, is unlike anything I’ve seen before.” He shook his head. “Unlike any scenario I’d ever imagined, sir.”

Paulson slumped into his chair. Everyone wiped out. Almost the entire U.S. military, thousands of good men and women defending freedom, now dead. The largest fighting force the world had seen since the dawn of civilization, destroyed in moments.

Paulson recalled his own military career. He’d been a member of the elite Navy SEALs, and he’d seen combat in Desert Storm, the second Gulf War, Afghanistan, and various other hellholes around the world. He’d been injured and decorated for heroism multiple times and he sure as hell had no intention of folding before this enemy, whoever it was.

“We’ve been able to get in touch with a few bases and operating networks, as well as several subs in both the Atlantic and Pacific. It seems that the only military survivors are in underground facilities or underwater, with their own independent air supply. I’m alive because I’m underground, and you’re still alive because of your sealed and pressurized plane.”

Rowan frowned at someone speaking at his side and then added, “A few remote scientific bases in the Arctic and Antarctic are still untouched.”

“And the civilian population?” Paulson asked, not wanting to hear the news.

“Sir, I have Dr. Samuel Bellany, from the CDC, who can provide more detail on that. Yet I have to say that we expect the civilian population is being cut down as well and not just here in the U.S. but worldwide. This attack, the devastation, is unprecedented.”

Paulson couldn’t believe what he was hearing. He’d watched various feeds coming in from around the world, but the scope of what they were dealing with was beyond anything he could even imagine. Paulson was a strong man, not prone to outbursts of emotion and certainly not given to crying in public, but it was all he could do to contain himself. Yet he had to focus now, focus on the tasks at hand—keep the nation functioning and maintain strong leadership. He touched the icon on his screen showing the video call from Dr.
Bellany. He pulled the widow up beside General Rowan’s so all of them could talk. Bellany’s torso appeared as a hologram beside Rowan’s.

“Dr.
Bellany,” Paulson said.

“Mr. Vice President, glad to see you’re okay.” Dr.
Bellany was wearing full contamination gear, including a large white helmet with a clear plastic visor.

“It’s Mr. President now, Doctor. So what can you tell me about this attack?”

“Sir, we believe this is a virus, a virus unlike anything we’ve seen before. It even hit the CDC hard. The only survivors were already in containment suits or airtight chambers at the time of the attack.”

“I thought that most viruses took at least several days to spread through and infect the population, that there was an incubation period before people start dying,” Paulson said. “This virus seems to have infected people and killed them in a matter of hours.”

“You’re right, sir,” Bellany said. “But this is no ordinary virus. Now keep in mind I’ve only had about three hours to gather data, so this is very preliminary. Most of our staff was at home at the time of the attack, so we're woefully short-staffed. There were only a dozen or so of us working late tonight, and just four of us were in the containment chamber suited up when the virus struck. The others . . . the ones outside, are all dead.”

Bellany
wiped a shaky hand across his visor, as if he could wipe the tears from his eyes. “I’m sorry, gentlemen, it’s just that this has happened so quickly and we’ve lost so many good people—friends, colleagues, my family. I . . . I don’t know what’s happened to them.”

“It’s okay, Doctor,” Paulson said. “We’ve all lost people in this attack.” He thought of his wife, his two sons, and his daughter, as well as all the grandkids. He didn’t know for sure, but it was likely all were gone. He pushed the thought from his mind. There would be time for grieving later. First they had to get organized, care for the survivors, and prepare a defense. That meant finding out what caused this and devising plans to fight it.

“Based on the evidence,” Dr. Bellany was saying, “my first thought was that the virus has already gone airborne and has been that way since symptoms started to appear. I confirmed that with air samples taken here in our offices. We’ve been able to isolate the organism, filtering out dust, other microbes, and small particles. It’s something we’ve never seen before. Our analysis shows that it’s part organic and part mechanical, and about twice the size of your standard virus. I’m sending a picture to you now.”

A strange organism appeared, floating silently across the screen. It was circular, with short spikes jutting out at odd angles all around it. Some parts were light and others dark, similar to the look of an X-ray of
a bone repaired with metal parts.

“Is that metal, Doctor?
” Paulson asked. “Something that can occur naturally?”

“No, sir.
These miniature components were definitely constructed by someone.”

Paulson frowned. That meant that this virus was engineered to kill. His worst fears were now confirmed; this was indeed a terrorist attack.

“It’ll take us a while to determine exactly what it is,” Bellany continued. “But we do know that it’s all over the air, twelve hundred parts per cubic meter, which is about the same quantity of pollen you’d see at the peak of allergy season. In other words, it’s everywhere, and there’s really no way, without wearing a gas mask, to keep from breathing it in. We’ve had limited contact with other CDC offices in the U.S. as well as our colleagues in other countries, and they’re reporting similar concentrations in their locales. So, basically, this virus is all over the planet.”

“How is this possible?” Paulson asked. “How the hell has it been able to spread so quickly?”

“We’re not sure, sir,” Bellany said. “Normally a naturally occurring virus starts in one location and spreads through human contact over time. If a virus becomes airborne, it typically is only able to survive for several hours at the most outside a host body. This virus is airborne, but we have no idea yet how long it can survive in the open. As for the spread, it had to occur at almost the same time throughout the world for everyone to get sick so quickly in a half-hour period. I can’t imagine how whoever did this coordinated the spread so precisely.”

“I can shed light on that, Doctor,” General Rowan said before muting the video feed from Dr.
Bellany. “Mr. President, I think it best that we talk about this in private.”

“Go ahead,” Paulson said.

“That light show that we saw about six hours ago? Well, we think the virus may have come from that.”

“You mean the meteor shower?” Paulson shifted in his seat. This conversation was becoming more and more incredible, one unprecedented situation after another.

“Yes, sir. Several atmospheric analysis satellites obtained detailed information during and after the time Earth passed through the meteor cloud. At first we thought it was just a routine meteor shower and reported that to President Diaz. Upon further analysis, though, we discovered that the meteor particles didn’t burn up upon entry into the atmosphere but instead dispersed throughout the planet’s ecosystem. One of the satellite’s collectors also grabbed a sample of the meteor cloud. Sir, the sample contained dense concentrations of the same organism that Dr. Bellany just showed us. The pictures I’ve seen look like the virus was in a spore form in space, with a strong outer hull that allowed it to survive entry into the atmosphere.”

Paulson’s anger boiled as he balled
his hands into firm fists, his seventy-two-year-old knuckles cracking and turning white. “So one of our enemies launched this thing into space?”

“We’re still gathering data, sir, but it’s certainly possible. We’ve been watching all known terrorist groups, both domestic and foreign, for years, and they have nowhere near the level of sophistication to launch such an attack. That leaves the Chinese or the North Koreans.
Or perhaps the Indians have the expertise. To do this, they would have had to launch a rocket far out into space, one that would hold the virus in its dormant form. And from the size of the virus cloud, it would have taken several rocket launches to transport that many tons of viral material into space.”

“The Chinese have launched
a lot of satellites the last several years,” Paulson said. “They could have simply switched out the payload in exchange for this engineered virus.”

“It’s certainly possible. But then there’s the question of why. As we’ve seen, every country on the globe has been hit. If the Chinese or some rogue country wanted to do this, there would be no way for them to prevent large portions of their own population from being killed.”

“Unless they had an antidote,” Paulson said, a cold shiver crawling up his spine. “God help us if this is something that they created and let loose.”

“Intelligence is only trickling in, but we haven’t seen any population-scale immunity anywhere. Everyone is dying.” Rowan paused,
flashing his eyes quickly to the side and then the ceiling before focusing back on Paulson. “However, the only data we have now is coming in from the Stream and feeds. We haven’t been able to get in touch with any agents on the ground.”

Paulson knew what Rowan
was thinking. “The Chinese have hacked the Stream before. We could be looking at false data, fake videos.”

“I know. What should we do, sir?”

Paulson thought for a second. This could very well be a planned strike from the Chinese against the U.S. and the entire world, something they’d been planning for years. The hack on the Stream a few years ago could have simply been a test for the larger attack. Inoculate their leaders and citizens, then spread this virus all over the world, killing everyone, leaving the entire planet to themselves.