Ashes

1

Perez hit play.

It was the fourth time he’d watched the video. He wasn’t one hundred percent happy with the piece, but changing it at this point would mean an unnecessary delay of at least a week.

“Fine,” he said to Claudia, his assistant. “Approved.”

“And the proposed date?”

It was three days away.

“Also approved.”

“I’ll let the communications team know,” she said. “Do you want this on automatic or would you like to activate?”

He gave it only a second’s thought. “When the time comes, we’ll do it from here.”

“Very good, sir.”

2

“Firefighters believe the blaze started in a grocery store on 22^nd Avenue before it quickly overtook the surrounding buildings,” Candice Mandel said.

She was reporting from St. Petersburg, Florida. The camera revealed flames rising from nearly every building along the avenue. Firefighters ran up and down the street, pulling equipment from trucks and spraying water on the flames, but it was clear their efforts would not be enough.

“One official we were able to speak with said that the rapid spread of the fire indicated it had been set intentionally.” The camera panned to the left until Mandel was in the picture. With her free hand, she adjusted the surgical mask covering her mouth and nose before adding, “A mandatory evacuation of the residential area directly behind the fire has already begun. Unfortunately, the effort is hampered by residents’ fear of leaving their homes.”

The image of Mandel cut to prerecorded shots of the evacuation.

Police wearing gas masks normally used in riot situations were knocking on doors and moving people to buses parked along the street. Before they boarded, the evacuees were handed masks similar to the one Mandel was wearing. While most people seemed to be cooperating, a few could be seen struggling with the officers.

The picture cut to a shot of a front door as police knocked on it. It opened an inch, but no more.

“Sir, how many people are in the house with you?” one of the officers asked.

“Just me and my wife. Why?”

“You both need to come with us.”

“Are you kidding me? We’re not going anywhere,” the man said. “Not with that bug out there.”

“Sir, there’s a fire on 22^nd Avenue that’s threatening to spread this way. We need to evacuate the entire neighborhood.”

“Sorry, buddy. We ain’t leaving!” The man started to close the door, but the officer jammed a foot across the threshold.

The image cut back to Mandel standing in front of the fire. “That couple was eventually escorted to one of the buses, but the man wasn’t the only one to express that kind of sentiment.” She paused. “Choosing between running from a fire or exposing themselves to the Sage Flu virus now spreading around the world is not what these people thought they’d be doing on Christmas Eve. Back to you in New York, Henry.”

Mandel was replaced on screen by PCN anchor Henry Nash. “There have been reports of looting and acts of destruction throughout the country, but so far these have been isolated events that authorities have been able to stop.” Nash fell silent for a second, his eyes becoming momentarily unfocused. When he looked back into the camera, he said, “We’re going to take you to the White House briefing room and correspondent Shelley Barnes. Shelley?”

The new image was a wide shot of an empty podium with the White House seal hanging on the wall behind it. In front of the podium were several rows of chairs, each filled with a member of the press. Most were wearing surgical-type masks, while a few went as far as donning full gas masks.

After a second’s delay, the unseen Shelley Barnes said, “Henry, we’ve been told that a White House spokesman will be delivering an important update on the situation at any moment. So far, we’ve only been hearing—” She paused as a door at the front of the room opened. “It looks like the brief is about to start.”

There was a rustle in the crowd as four men entered and spread out on either side of the podium. As soon as they were in position, the president himself walked out. He was followed by the majority and minority leaders of both the House and Senate, and the chief justice of the Supreme Court.

A murmur of surprise arose as all the reporters stood until the leader of the United States was behind the podium. The president’s normally vigorous and youthful face looked drawn and tired. He stared at the gathered press for a moment before he began.

“Ladies and gentleman,” he said. His face turned even grimmer. “In the last hour, I have received confirmation that deaths in the US directly attributable to the Sage Flu are in the thousands and climbing rapidly. I wish I could tell you these were confined to a particular location, but I cannot. The cases are spread throughout the country. In addition to the dead, tens of thousands more have already reported suffering from flu-like symptoms.

“I have been in touch with leaders in Asia, the Middle East, Africa, and throughout Europe, and, without exception, all are experiencing similar outbreaks.

“I have told the director of the CDC that there is no higher priority than the creation of a vaccine to defeat this deadly virus. All resources of this government are at their disposal, and I have been assured scientists in labs throughout the world are working around the clock until that goal is met. Something that I am confident they will achieve.

“It will take time, however. Months. Perhaps up to a year. My mission is to see that you, the citizens of the United States, are still here to receive the inoculation.” He glanced over his shoulder at the congressional leaders who had joined him, then said, “As a first step to make sure that happens, and in consultation with both parties in Congress, just moments ago, I signed an executive order suspending the Constitution of the United States, extending the twenty-four-hour curfew indefinitely. The only people exempt are those needed for essential services — military; emergency personnel such as police, firefighters, doctors, and nurses; those needed to maintain utilities such as power and water; and others in positions critical to maintaining the health and safety of our nation. Anyone outside of these individuals found breaking curfew or otherwise risking the safety of others will be arrested and forced to spend the duration of our state of emergency in a holding facility as a guest of the United States military. Food and other needed items will be dispersed in an organized, scheduled manner, with strict instructions on how these items are to be retrieved. We ask that everyone please be patient and understanding.

“We are all in this together, and together we will see this through.”

Every chair save the one usually occupied by the president was filled, all eyes on the monitor at the front of the room displaying the press briefing.

All, that was, but Dr. Michael Esposito’s. He was glancing at his boss, Dr. Marston, head of the CDC. The man looked thoughtful and supportive as he watched the president speak, an expression Esposito couldn’t bring himself to match.

Dr. Marston had been in Washington advising the president since not long after the shipping containers found around the world began spewing their deadly cargo. He had then flown Esposito up that afternoon on a government plane. Esposito had protested, saying he needed to stay at the labs while his team continued trying to find some way to combat the Sage Flu virus. The new strain, which they were calling Sage Flu B (SF-B), was subtly different from the SF-A virus that had broken out in California the previous spring, and Esposito’s team was just beginning to make some progress on what those differences might mean.

“The work won’t stop if you’re not there,” Marston had told him. “Get on that plane and get up here now.”

Upon arriving in DC, Esposito was rushed to the White House by a police escort, an unnecessary step given that the streets were all but empty. There, he’d been led to an office his boss was using.

Marston immediately stood. “Finally. Come on.”

“Where are we going?”

“To brief the president.”

“I could have done that over the phone,” Esposito said, unable to hide his annoyance.

Marston pressed his lips tightly together, then said, “No, this is not something you could have done over the phone.”

Esposito held up a hand in defense. “All right, all right.” He dropped his jacket on the guest chair and followed his boss to the door. “So what are we supposed to be talking about?”

Marston’s hand was on the doorknob, but he paused without turning it and looked back at Esposito. “A vaccine.”

“What vaccine?”

“For the Sage Flu. What do you think?”

“There is no vaccine.”

“I know that, and so does the president. What he wants to know is, when will it be ready?”

Esposito gaped at him, hoping this was some kind of joke. “You know I can’t put a date on it. Maybe it’ll take a couple of months, maybe it’ll take twenty years! Look at HIV, for God’s sake. How long have we been working on a cure for that?”

“We both know it will probably take less than a year.”

“No, we don’t.”

“Yes, we do. And that’s what you’re going to tell him.”

“You brought me up here to lie to the president?”

Marston stared at him for a moment. “What do you think is happening here?”

“I’m not sure what you—”

“Here. In the world. Right now. What do you think is happening?”

“Um, you mean with the flu?”

“Yes, with the goddamn flu!”

Esposito had never seen his boss so angry. He resisted the urge to moisten his suddenly dry lips. “Someone is trying to kill a lot of people.”

“Someone is trying to kill more than just a lot of people. You know what the death rate was for the initial victims of the SF-A outbreak!”

Everyone at the CDC was well aware of that number. Nearly a hundred percent. The only reason there were survivors was because the virus had been tailored with a built-in cutoff so only those in the first few generations received the killer variety. That was a bit of info they hadn’t shared with the public.

“And can I assume you’ve read the report on the deaths we’ve already seen this time?”

“Of course,” Esposito said. So far, the death rate had been the same. “But it’s still possible that SF-B will have the same generational cutoff as SF-A. We’re still working on finding that out.”

“Really? Because the reports I’ve read from your team indicate that the cutoff trigger identified in SF-A is missing in SF-B.”

“That’s true,” Esposito said. It was one of the first things he and his colleagues had looked for. “But we’re hopeful it’s just being expressed in a different way.”

“Hopeful? Think, Michael, think! This is a terrorist attack. Both strains were purposely released. The limited boundary of the spring release was because they knew it was going to burn out. It was a test. Don’t you see that? This time, they’re pumping it into the air everywhere, not just in a small geographical area. This is the big attack. What they planned for. Do you really think they’ve included some kind of biological timer? Do you?”

As soon as Sage Flu had been identified as the virus in the containers, Esposito had thought about all the different possibilities, including that given the scale, there would be no cutoff this time. But because of what that would mean — the near annihilation of the human race — he hadn’t been able to bring himself to believe anyone could be that ruthless.

He hesitated, then nodded, forced to admit the truth.

“We have one job right now,” Marston said. “One. And that’s to keep as many people alive as possible.” He paused, the look of anger that had taken him dissipating. When he spoke again, his voice was softer, conciliatory. “If people think there is a vaccine coming, they’ll cling to hope, and cut down on exposure to one another. There’s an excellent chance, then, that some will stay alive long enough to receive the vaccine I’m sure your team will develop. But if we tell them we don’t know when or even if the vaccine will be ready, we’re all but admitting we’re condemning everyone to death. That’s why we need to give the president a definitive timetable. If he believes, he can make everyone else believe. Do you get it now?”

When they entered the Oval Office a few minutes later, and the president asked Esposito how long until a vaccine would be ready, the doctor said, “A year at the outside. Hopefully sooner.”

And now, there he sat in the conference room, his eyes avoiding the television screen as he listened to the president spread the fictional timeline.

His throat dry, he stood and walked to the back of the room where several bottles of water sat on a counter. As he took one and opened it, a man in an army uniform walked up and grabbed another bottle.

The officer started to drink, but suddenly pulled the bottle away and coughed.

Already on edge, everyone in the room whipped around and stared at him.

He held up a hand and said in a hoarse voice, “Went down the wrong tube.”

That seemed to mollify the crowd. As the others returned their attention to the monitor, Esposito said, “You all right?”

“Fine,” the officer replied. He put his hand in front of his mouth as he cleared his throat. “Hate when that happens, you know?”

“Yeah,” Esposito said.

On the screen, the president was finishing up, which meant he would be joining them soon. Walking back to his seat, Esposito noticed a few droplets of water on his hand that must have popped off his bottle when he’d opened the top. He wiped them off, and took another drink.

Unfortunately for him, and for everyone else in the room, the drops didn’t come from his bottle. They were from the army officer’s cough, one that hadn’t been caused by water going down the wrong pipe.

3

The storm had grown steadily worse. The snow, at first a light dusting on the road, had begun to accumulate into a growing blanket of white, making it more and more difficult for Chloe as she drove south on the motorcycle.

As if that weren’t enough to heighten her anxiety, each mile she traveled took her farther from the Ranch, adding to the time she would take to return with the help Daniel Ash needed.

An explosion at a house where he had been searching for his son had left Ash unconscious and seriously injured. Billy, the Ranch’s doctor, had been killed several days earlier, leaving the Resistance with a nurse who could tend to Ash’s visible wounds but was untrained to diagnose and treat anything more severe. Knowing timing was critical, Chloe and two others had raced away on motorcycles in different directions in hopes of finding a doctor who could help. Not just any type of doctor; they needed a surgeon. Chloe had blown through two towns already, but each was too small to support that skill level. The nearest place she might find what she was looking for was Great Falls.

On a sunlit, summer day with no one else on the road, she could have made it there in little more than an hour. But it wasn’t daytime or even close to summer, and the darkness and snow were more than doubling the normal travel time.

She checked her watch. Almost a quarter to ten.

Dammit! I should be on my way back by now.

She resisted the urge to increase her speed, knowing she was already pushing her luck, but she couldn’t help feeling that every lost second might be crucial to Ash’s survival.

The road took a wide turn up ahead. If she remembered correctly, once she was around it the highway would straighten out for the final run into Great Falls. Maybe a few more miles an hour then.

Her hand tightened on the grip, ready to sprint the final distance to the city as soon as she finished the turn, but instead of accelerating, she immediately reduced her speed. Fifty yards beyond the turn, a pair of wooden barricades was set across the road. Parked behind it was a military truck. Dual, portable floodlights were set up on the asphalt, lighting up the area.

A roadblock.

The front wheel of the motorcycle wobbled as the bike slowed. Chloe fought to maintain her balance as she brought her ride to a stop ten feet shy of the barricade.

Two men in military uniforms popped out of the truck. They were wearing full biohazard hoods, and armed — one with an M4 rifle, and the other with a handgun, probably a Beretta. By what she could see of their faces through their faceplates, they seemed as surprised to see her as she was by them.

“Hold it right there,” the shorter one ordered.

“Does it look like I’m going anywhere?” she asked.

“Ma’am, are you aware there is a curfew in effect?”

“I’m trying to get home, that’s all. Why are you guys out here?”

“The president has ordered anyone violating the curfew to be detained.”

“When did that happen?” she asked.

“The order came through thirty minutes ago.”

“Well, I was on my bike thirty minutes ago. How was I supposed to know? Look, I’m just trying to get home to my kids, all right?”

The other airman gave her a skeptical look. “You live here in Great Falls?”

“What does it matter if I do?” She thought there probably weren’t that many African-Americans living in town, but there would be a few. “Come on, let me through. My kids are scared to death with all this stuff going on. They need me. I’m sure you can understand that.”

The short one hesitated. “Can we see your ID, ma’am?”

She made a show of reaching into her jacket, and then, in a fake panic, padding her other pockets. “Dammit!”

“Ma’am?”

“I don’t have it.”

“You don’t have it?”

“No,” she said.

The tall one with the rifle raised it a few inches.

“Jesus,” she said. “Just because I don’t have it with me doesn’t mean you have to shoot me! I left it at my friend’s place in Concord. I forgot it, that’s all.”

Neither man said anything.

“Look, you want to drive me to my house so I can prove to you who I am?” she asked. “There’s nothing I’d like more than a warm ride at this point. I’m freezing my ass off.”

A few more tense seconds passed, then the two men huddled together for a moment. Finally, the first one said, “I’m sorry. We can’t do that, ma’am.”

“So, what? I stand here and we stare at each other? I gotta see my kids! Come on. Please!”

He studied her for a moment. “What’s your name?”

“Megan Adams,” she said, using the name of someone back at the Ranch.

“All right, Ms. Adams, we’re going to let you go home. But head straight there and stay inside. You get caught out again, you’ll be arrested. No questions asked.”

“Thank you,” she said.

The two men moved one of the barricades out of the way so that she could walk her bike through. The look on the taller one’s face made it clear he didn’t trust her, and that if he’d been in charge she wouldn’t have gotten off so easily.

“Thank you,” she said again as she hopped on her bike.

Within minutes, the town of Great Falls started appearing through the falling snow, streetlights at first, then strings of colored Christmas lights outlining a few of the homes.

She stopped under the awning of a gas station and pulled out her cell phone. To find a surgeon, she needed to find a hospital. A quick search told her the major medical center in town was Benefis Hospital. She navigated to their website, and tapped on the “Find a Doctor” tab. She was given the choice of looking for a physician by name, specialty, or keyword. Chloe found “General Surgery” under specialties and selected it. Nine names appeared, some with pictures, some not. All the doctors with photos appeared to be between thirty-five and fifty. If this had been a big-city hospital, she would have expected stern, serious poses, but the surgeons of Benefis looked friendly and approachable.

She flexed her fingers, fighting off the cold, and considered her options. Approaching someone at the hospital would be difficult at best. The facility would undoubtedly be one of the few places in town where people were still working, and, given her experience with the roadblock, there was a good chance that more airmen had been assigned to guard it. Better if she could find a doctor at home.

She looked down the street, half expecting a police car or military vehicle to drive by and catch her standing there, but the only movement came from the snowflakes falling to the ground. Still, to be safe, she walked the bike around the side of the gas station, out of view, then called the general number for the hospital.

“Benefis Hospital,” a female voice said.

“Can I speak to someone in the surgical unit, please?”

“Is this an emergency?”

“Ma’am, I’m calling from Malmstrom,” Chloe said, invoking the name of the local air force base.

“Of course. One moment.”

Instrumental music filled the void, a violin-and-piano version of some old pop song Chloe recognized but couldn’t name.

“Nurse Reynolds. Can I help you?” The voice was male and sounded rushed.

“Is this the surgical unit?”

“Yes, it is.”

“Mr. Reynolds, I’m Captain Lauren Scott. I’m part of the emergency operations team over here at Malmstrom.”

“Yes?” the nurse said, sounding unimpressed.

“I need the names of your surgeons currently on shift, on call, and those who will be coming in next.”

“I’m not sure I’m allowed to give that out.”

Chloe hardened her tone. “We are in a state of emergency. That means when my office calls needing something, you give it. Understood?”

The nurse fell silent.

“Mr. Reynolds, did you hear me? We are all trying to save lives here. I’m sure you don’t want me coming down there in person. That would take time, and I would not be very pleasant when I arrive. Now, please, can I get your cooperation?”

A moment, then, “I’m sorry. Hold for a second. I’ll check.”

There was no music this time, only the sound of someone using a computer keyboard.

“Okay, here you go,” Reynolds said. He read off the name of two doctors who were at the hospital and one who was on call, then gave her the name of the three surgeons who were scheduled to report in the morning.

“Thank you,” Chloe said. “Appreciate the help.”

As soon as the call disconnected, she brought up the list of doctors again. Eliminating the six names she’d been given left her with the three surgeons who weren’t expected in anytime soon. She called Information.

The first name had only a home phone number. The second and third, though, produced addresses as well. She looked at the map. The closest of the two, a Dr. Bradley Gardiner, lived less than half a mile from her current position.

She memorized the route, and put her phone away.

“Run! Run!”

Brandon Ash’s lungs burned as he pushed himself faster through the trees. He could hear the boom-boom-boom of his pulse as blood rushed by his ears.

“Run!”

He glanced back over his shoulder, toward the voice — Mr. Hayes’s voice.

“Keep moving!” the man yelled.

Brandon couldn’t see him, but knew Mr. Hayes couldn’t be far behind. As he looked back in the direction he was headed, his foot slipped on a rock and his leg flew out from under him. He tumbled, slamming against the ground over and over as the slope of the hill prevented him from stopping.

Whoop-whoop-whoop.

The rhythmic sound was slow and distant at first, but as it gained speed, it also increased in volume. The louder it got the more he felt each whoop in his chest, as if the sound itself had replaced the beating of his heart.

With a final skid through the dirt, he came to rest on his back. Above him was blue sky peeking through the tops of the trees. Then the blue turned black as the source of the sound moved into view.

“Run!” Mr. Hayes shouted.

Brandon wanted to do that more than anything, but the sight of the machine in the sky paralyzed him.

“Run!”

A helicopter, giant and black, hovered directly overhead.

Brandon felt something drip down the side of his face. He touched it, thinking it must be blood. But it was cold, not warm.

He was cold.

His eyelids fluttered, then opened. He sucked in a deep, frightened breath, and pushed himself partway up before he realized there was no helicopter above him, no blue sky. The only thing over his head was the makeshift lean-to he’d built to shelter himself as he slept.

Mr. Hayes, he thought. Mr. Hayes was dead.

Brandon pulled inside his sleeping bag, and used his flashlight to check his watch.

10:12 p.m.

So it was still Christmas Eve. He turned so he could look out the opening of his lean-to. The snow had yet to stop, and was piling up around the lower part of his shelter. He wondered if enough would fall to cover the entire thing by morning. The former kid in him would have thought that was cool, but not this Brandon. Not the Brandon who was just trying to survive.

He had spent most of that day following the road south. Not once did a vehicle pass by. In the afternoon, the snow had begun to fall, making him not only tired and cold, but wet. What bothered him most, though, was the eerie silence that enveloped him as more snow stuck to the ground. It made him feel like the last person on Earth, destined to walk forever alone. Finally, when he’d been unable to find a structure where he could spend the night, he had made the lean-to and set up camp.

A snippet of the dream came back to him — the whoop-whoop-whoop of the helicopter — and he suddenly wondered if the noise had been more than a part of his dream. The cold, after all, had definitely been real.

He pushed his head out of the sleeping bag, and moved over to the opening of the lean-to where he could listen better. Earlier that evening he’d heard a motorcycle drive by, but had rushed over to the road too late to get the driver’s attention. Maybe it was coming back. If so, he wanted to be on the highway in plenty of time to flag it down. He held his breath, straining to pick up the slightest of sounds, but if there was an engine roaring out there somewhere, he couldn’t hear it.

Just the dream, then.

Disappointed, he settled back down.

Tomorrow I’ll find a phone and call Dad. Tomorrow everything will be okay.

It took a while, but he finally fell back asleep, and when he did, the dream returned.

“Run!”

Martina Gable stared up at the sky. Unlike the night before, there were no clouds, so the stars shined brightly over the cabin. Running in a thick band across the field of black was the Milky Way, the light from most of its stars generated long before mankind had taken its first step. She wondered if light that old would still be reaching Earth when man took his last.

She heard the door open behind her, but she didn’t turn to see who it was.

“What are you looking at?” Riley Weber asked.

Martina watched the sky for a moment longer, then shook her head. “Nothing.”

Riley hesitated before saying, “Sorry. I didn’t mean to bother you.”

Martina looked back. “You didn’t. I was just…trying to think about nothing.”

“I’ve been trying to think about nothing all evening.”

Riley’s chin shook as she bit her lip and started to cry. Martina put her arms around her friend. She wanted to say something like “We’re going to be okay,” but she couldn’t bring herself to lie, so she kept silent as she stroked Riley’s hair and let the girl sob.

Both Martina’s family and Riley’s family had escaped to the mountains in hopes of avoiding the Sage Flu. And while it had not touched them so far, they’d had their own near tragedy when Riley’s twin sister Laurie wandered off the previous night and nearly died of exposure. That afternoon, Mr. Weber had decided to take her back down the mountain to get medical attention. Without any cell phone coverage or land line at the cabin, Mr. Weber and Laurie hadn’t been heard from since.

Riley took a deep breath as her tears finally lost strength. She pulled out of Martina’s arms, and said, “Thanks. I guess I just needed to let that out, huh?”

“We’re all going to need to let it out at one point or another, I think.”

Riley looked up at the stars. After a moment, she said, “Tell me about college.”

“What do you want to know?” Martina asked. Riley was still a senior at Burroughs High School, while Martina was in her freshman year at Cal State University, Northridge.

“What’s it like living on your own?”

Martina shrugged. “It’s fun sometimes.”

“Only sometimes?”

“Well, I still have to study. And Mom’s not there to clean up for me or do the laundry.”

“Still better than living at home, I bet,” Riley said.

“They both have their ups and downs, but, yeah, it’s pretty cool.” Martina gave her friend a smile. “Come on. I’m getting cold.”

Back in the house, they found Martina’s parents in the kitchen making hot chocolate for Martina’s brother Donny and Riley’s younger sister Pamela, who were lying on the floor in front of the fireplace, playing games on their iPods.

“You two want any?” Martina’s dad asked as he poured the brown liquid into mugs.

“Definitely,” Martina said.

“Me, too,” Riley chimed in.

“You want to see if your mom wants some?” he asked.

Riley looked around. “She still in her room?”

Martina’s mom nodded, picked up one of mugs, and held it out. “Why don’t you take one back? She’s had a rough day. No reason to make her come out and deal with all of us.”

“Thanks, Mrs. Gable,” Riley said.

She took the mug and headed toward the back bedrooms.

“Here you go, honey.” Mr. Gable handed Martina a mug. “It’s hot, so be careful. Pamela, Donny, yours is ready.”

Neither of the other two kids moved.

“Hey!” Mr. Gable yelled.

Martina walked over and kicked her brother’s foot.

Donny pulled one of the earphones out of his ear. “What?”

She pointed at their dad.

“Hot chocolate,” Mr. Gable said.

“Cool.” Donny jumped up and motioned for Pamela to join him.

The girl looked over, saw the steaming mugs, and hopped up, too.

“Martina?”

Riley was standing in the hallway, motioning for Martina to join her.

“What’s up?” Martina asked as she walked over.

“Mom…she…” Riley couldn’t seem to finish, so instead she hurried over to the door of the bedroom her parents had been using.

As soon as Martina joined her, Riley pushed it open several inches.

The light was on inside so Martina didn’t have any problem seeing Mrs. Weber lying on the bed. At first she thought the woman was asleep, but then she noticed the sweat along Mrs. Weber’s hairline, and the look of pain on her face. Suddenly, Riley’s mom twisted back and forth, and let out a low groan that turned into a cough.

Without even meaning to, Martina took a step backward. “Did you go inside?” she asked Riley, though she already knew the answer. She could see the mug of hot chocolate sitting on the nightstand.

“She’s my mom,” Riley said. “What am I going to do?”

“Stay here. I’ll be right back.” Martina dashed back to the living room. After catching her mother’s eye, she said, “Can I see you for a minute?”

“Sure.”

Once her mother had entered the hallway, Martina whispered, “It’s Mrs. Weber. I think she’s sick.”

Her mother’s eyes grew wide. “What?”

Martina led her over to the bedroom door so she could peek through. She watched as the blood drained from her mother’s face.

Before either of them could say anything, Donny called out from the living room. “Hey, Mom. Can you bring me a tissue when you come back? I need to blow my nose.”

4

Dr. Bradley Gardiner sat on the couch in his living room, his wife Kathy on one side and their fourteen-year-old daughter Emily on the other. None of them had said anything for over an hour as they watched the news on TV.

Many cities were reporting minor instances of civil unrest, while others, such as St. Petersburg, Florida, were experiencing fires that were spreading faster than the areas depleted of emergency personnel could handle.

The most shocking images, though, were of the silent streets in New York, Los Angeles, Tokyo, Beijing, Moscow, London, and the other great cities of the world. Daytime, nighttime, evening, morning — it didn’t matter. There wasn’t a soul in sight for as far as the cameras could see.

“We are expecting more detailed information about food distribution sometime tomorrow. We’re also anticipating more on when a Sage Flu vaccine will be ready. We’ve been told that the…oh, excuse me. We’re going to cut to our colleagues at the BBC, where the British prime minister has just begun addressing Parliament.”

The news anchor was replaced by an interior shot from the House of Commons. On either side of the chamber were rows of chairs, rising toward the walls like bleachers on opposite sides of a narrow basketball court. Only a handful of the seats were occupied, and everyone was wearing a mask. Standing in front of a lectern was the prime minister, recognizable even behind his mask.

“…safety of all. This is not a time for debate or delay, for both will only result in more deaths. I have spoken to—”

There was a loud knock on the door. Gardiner’s daughter jumped, while his wife jerked under his arm.

“Who could that be?” Emily asked.

“I don’t know, sweetie,” Gardiner said. He rose from the couch.

“Brad,” his wife said, shaking her head. “Whoever it is, just ignore them.”

A second knock was followed by a woman’s voice. “Dr. Gardiner?”

Kathy shook her head again. “Don’t,” she mouthed.

“She knows we’re here,” he said.

“I don’t care.”

“Dr. Gardiner?” the woman said again. “I’m Captain Scott, US Air Force.”

The air force had basically taken over the town when the national state of emergency was declared.

“I have to see what she wants,” Gardiner said.

Kathy, not looking happy, said, “Wait for me.”

Together they entered the foyer, and Gardiner flipped on the outside light. Looking through the spy hole in the door, the first thing he noted was that the porch was still dark. He flipped the switch off and back on again. The light remained off. There was enough illumination coming from the streetlamp that he could make out the shape of the woman on the other side of the door.

“Dr. Gardiner?” she said again.

“I’m here,” Gardiner said. “What is it you need?”

“Sir, we’ve had an emergency over at the base that requires your assistance.”

“You should contact the hospital if you need anyone. I’m not on call right now.”

“We realize that. That’s why I’m here. We need a surgeon, but decided it would be best not to disturb the rotation at Benefis.”

Gardiner frowned. “What’s the emergency?”

“Internal injuries. I have X-rays right here to show you.”

“Don’t you have your own surgeons?”

“We do, sir, but they are both currently occupied.” The woman paused. “It was a helicopter crash, sir. Multiple injuries. We need your help.”

Gardiner dipped his head and nodded to himself. “All right. Give me a minute.”

“No problem.”

“No!” Kathy said. “You can’t go. Not tonight.”

“People are hurt. It’s my job to take care of them.”

“Dad,” Emily said. “You’ll get sick if you go out there.” She pointed back at the TV. “It’s everywhere.”

The doctor grabbed his coat from the closet. “I’m sure it won’t take long, but don’t wait up.”

“Wait!” Kathy said. She hurried over to the entrance table. “You need a mask.” She grabbed the box of paper masks Gardiner had brought home from the hospital, and pulled one out. “Here.”

There was another knock on the door. “Dr. Gardiner, we need to hurry.”

The doctor’s house sat on the north side of Young Street. A nice, multibedroom home with a big front yard and two-car garage. While large by Great Falls standards, it would have been considered moderate in most larger cities, given the owner’s profession.

Chloe parked the motorcycle down the street and approached on foot.

Light from a television flickered through the windows at the front of the house. As she got closer, she could see at least two people sitting on a couch watching TV. It was tuned to the news, of course. She doubted there was anything else on.

She moved over to the front door, quietly worked the cover off the porch light, and unscrewed the bulb. Once the cover was back in place, she knocked.

When the doctor had finally responded, she used the tactic she’d come up with on the drive over to convince him to open the door. While he said he was coming, the door was still shut, so she placed her ear against it, and heard two women arguing with the doctor to stay.

Chloe knocked again. “Dr. Gardiner, we need to hurry.”

“I’ll call you when I get there,” she heard him say. “And I’ll have them bring me home as soon as I’m done.”

“Please, Dad. Please don’t go.”

“Sweetie, you know I have to. I’ll be all right.”

Chloe chewed on her lower lip, troubled by the conversation.

Crap.

Discarding her original idea, she retrieved her gun.

The deadbolt clunked open, and the doorknob began to turn.

“Put your mask on first,” the older woman — probably his wife — said.

The doorknob recoiled to its original position as the doctor let go, but the door itself was now unlocked.

Chloe turned the knob and eased the door open. The wife was helping her husband put a paper mask over his head while the daughter watched from a few feet away. None of them showed any of the physical signs of being ill.

“Sorry,” Chloe said as she stepped inside and closed the door behind her. “Change of plans.”

The Gardiners turned in surprise. When they caught sight of her gun, they froze.

“Is there anyone else in the house?” Chloe asked.

The man shook his head. “No.”

Had he answered too fast? She looked at the daughter. “Is he telling the truth?”

The girl’s eyes were locked on the gun.

“Hey,” Chloe said. “Is he telling the truth?”

The girl jerked her head up. “What? Yes. Just the three of us.”

She seemed far too scared to lie.

“Okay,” Chloe said. “This is your lucky day.”

“What do you want?” Gardiner asked. “I don’t have any drugs here. But you’re welcome to any money or food you want.”

“I’ve already told you what I want, Doctor — you. I have an injured man who needs your help.”

“Take him to the hospital.”

“Not that easy,” Chloe said.

She looked past them into the rest of the house. Beside the living room, there was a stairway leading up to the second story where the bedrooms probably were, and the open door to a bathroom. Along the back wall of the living room was a wide break, and on the other side was what looked like the dining room. She figured the kitchen had to be back there somewhere, too.

“Into the other room,” she said.

“What are you going to do to us?” Gardiner’s wife asked.

“Save your life.”

Gardiner looked at her like she was crazy. “Please, just leave us alone.”

“Move it!” Chloe barked.

The Gardiners backed into the living room.

“Keep going,” Chloe told them, motioning to the dining area. After they passed into the back part of the house, she signaled for them to stop.

Another quick scan. To her left a family room, and to the right an open-plan kitchen.

“That door,” she said, nodding past Gardiner toward the kitchen. “Where does it lead?”

Gardiner glanced over his shoulder. “That? The…the garage.”

“What do you got parked in there?”

“Um…uh…”

Chloe turned to his daughter. “What kind of cars?”

“Mom’s BMW. And the Yukon.”

A Yukon SUV.

Perfect.

Getting the Gardiners into the Yukon wasn’t particularly difficult. Despite the fact Chloe never directly pointed her gun at any of them, its mere presence was enough to ensure their cooperation.

She had the doctor take the driver’s seat while she herded the two women into the back with her — the daughter, whose name was Emily, in the middle; and the wife, Kathy, behind her husband.

Gardiner turned on the headlights as they backed out of the garage and down the driveway.

“No,” Chloe said. “Lights off.”

He looked for a moment like he was going to argue, so she raised the gun a few inches and he flicked the lights off.

“Which way?” he asked.

“To the left. Keep it slow.”

The Ranch was northwest of Great Falls. The main route out of town would have been via the interstate, the same way she’d come in, but the roadblock eliminated that option. Searching on her phone for a new route, she saw a pair of two-lane highways that led roughly in the right direction. She hoped the air force hadn’t seen it necessary to block those off, too.

“As soon as you can, head down to Central, then go west,” she told the doctor.

At the next corner, Gardiner turned the Yukon left.

“Where are you taking us?” Kathy asked.

“Someplace safe,” Chloe said.

“Safe? We were safe in our home.”

Chloe looked over at her. “No. Not even close.”

“What do you mean?”

Chloe looked back at the road and ignored the question.

As they turned onto Central, she saw headlights several blocks away heading toward them. To the Yukon’s right was a bank with a parking lot that went all the way back to the next street.

“Turn in here,” Chloe ordered. “Now.”

Gardiner hesitated.

“Do it!”

He turned the SUV into the parking lot.

“Pull around the back of the building, and stop,” she said.

Once they were hidden from the main street, she rolled down the window a half inch. Cold air streamed in, threatening to undo the increase in cabin temperature the SUV’s heater had achieved.

At first the sound of the other vehicle was only a low rumble in the distance, but it grew in intensity as it traveled in their direction.

A truck, she realized. A big one. Maybe even a couple of them.

“Don’t be stupid,” she said, flashing the gun at Gardiner and his wife, making sure they got the message. “You don’t want to see me angry. I guarantee it.”

They both nodded, the doctor going so far as to take his hands off the steering wheel and set them in his lap.

The noise was loud now. Definitely two trucks, diesel engines. The first reached the bank and drove past. But as the second was nearing, Chloe caught a flash of red behind the Yukon. She glanced over her shoulder, then whipped her head back around.

“Foot off the brake!” she yelled.

Their brake lights flashed again.

“Off the brake!”

She reached through the opening between the two front seats, grabbed the doctor by the arm, and shoved the end of her pistol into the side of his head. Gardiner’s wife and daughter screamed.

“Off!” Chloe yelled.

“You won’t hurt me. You need me,” the doctor said.

Chloe glared at him for half a second, then let go. She reached across Emily and grabbed Kathy’s arm. “You’re right. But I don’t need your wife.”

Gardiner pulled his foot off, and the brake lights went out. “Don’t hurt her. Please.”

Without letting go of the woman, Chloe focused her attention on the trucks outside. The engine of the first one was fading as it continued down the road, but the second seemed to be slowing.

“Listen to me, very, very carefully,” Chloe said. “Drive onto the back street, go five blocks, then take us back over to Central. Not once will you touch the brakes. Understood?”

Voice full of fear, Gardiner said, “Yes.”

“Then move!”

The Yukon pulled away from the building and exited the parking lot at the back, getting onto the street that paralleled Central.

It wasn’t going to be a perfect getaway, Chloe knew. With the snow, their tracks would be seen and easily followed. But the big truck would not be the right vehicle to do that in, so if the people in it thought the Yukon was worth checking out, they would have to radio it in and request another vehicle be dispatched.

She didn’t let go of Kathy until they made the transition back over to Central. Behind them, she could see the lights of the second truck. As she’d suspected, it had stopped near the bank.

She looked out the front. No headlights coming toward them, only empty road.

As they passed a sign pointing toward the entrance to the interstate, she said, “Keep going straight.”

It wasn’t long before the unused space between buildings increased as the city thinned. At the Sun River, the road bent to the north, mirroring the contour of the waterway, then bent again before settling on a western direction once it finally crossed the water.

“Can I turn the lights on now?” Gardiner asked.

With the city truly behind them, there were no streetlamps to help with navigation.

Chloe thought for a moment, then shook her head. “Not yet. Stay in the middle. You’ll be fine.”

The decision turned out to be a good one. When the Yukon topped a slight rise, a lit-up barricade similar to the roadblock on the interstate came into view. It was about a half mile away.

“Foot off the gas,” Chloe said. “But don’t touch the brake.”

The doctor did as ordered, and the SUV slowed to a crawl.

Chloe brought up the map on her cell again, this time switching to satellite view. A glowing dot indicated their position on the map. Just ahead and on the right was what looked like a dirt road that ran up to a farm. It stopped there, but on either side were fields that ran along the highway for at least a mile.

“Okay, let’s go, but keep your speed way down,” she said. “We’re looking for a road on our right.”

The road was heralded by a large mailbox and an old sign that read FRESH EGGS. The ground was bumpy, so the doctor had to lower their speed even more. While the fields that surrounded the farmhouse were open, the home and the barn were fenced in on three sides. Unfortunately, the only way to get to the rear of the fields without being spotted from the road was through the farmhouse area.

“Keep to the right,” Chloe directed as soon as they entered the property. “Past the barn.”

The doctor followed Chloe’s directions, slowing as they neared the fence again.

“Drive along it.” Several seconds later, she pointed out the window. “There. Roll to a stop.”

As she’d hoped, there was a gate in the fence, no doubt to allow farm equipment in and out of the field.

Once the car was stopped, Chloe said, “Mrs. Gardiner, you’ll need to get out and open that for us. I know you might be tempted to run for help, but the moment you start doing anything other than what I’ve asked, we will leave you behind. If that happens, you will never see your family again. That’s not a threat. It’s simply a fact.”

“I won’t go anywhere,” Kathy said.

Chloe put a hand on Emily’s arm, just in case the woman had any plans to pull her daughter out with her. “Make it quick.”

Kathy opened the door, shut it again, and ran over to the fence. It took her a moment, but finally the gate swung open, and she hurried back into the SUV.

“Good,” Chloe said as the woman settled back in her seat. She let go of Emily and tapped the back of the doctor’s seat. “Stay to the back of the field as far from the highway as you can. Keep your speed down, but keep it moving. Go.”

She had not been willing to take the chance of letting the Gardiners grab their winter gear before they left, so it wasn’t surprising that Kathy was now shivering. Using her free hand, Chloe removed the few items she’d been carrying in the pockets of her own jacket, took it off, and handed it to the woman. “Here. This will help.”

“You should have given that to her before she went outside,” the doctor said, a touch of anger in his voice.

“You’re right. I should have. I’m sorry,” she said, meaning it.

She kept an eye on the roadblock as the Yukon bounced and dipped its way across the field. There were no signs of anyone getting out of the truck, no sudden spotlight streaking across the field toward the SUV, no warning shots booming through the air.

When the roadblock had receded to a distant halo of light behind them, Chloe instructed the doctor to head back to the highway. Five minutes later, they were on the snow-covered blacktop again, and able to increase their speed to twenty miles an hour.

“How much farther?” Gardiner asked.

“A ways.”

Silence.

“Is there really a sick man where you’re taking us?”

“Yes.”

“Then maybe we should let my wife drive. She grew up out here. She’s better in these kinds of conditions than I am. And I’m guessing you probably don’t want me to be dead tired when we arrive.”

It was the last point that sold her.

They stopped in the middle of the road, and the two older Gardiners switched positions.

“Can I turn the lights on now?” Kathy asked as she buckled in.

Chloe thought about it, then nodded. “Okay.”

Once they were moving again, the doctor said, “Mind if I try to get a little rest?”

“Go for it.”

“You look pretty tired, too. Maybe you should get some sleep.”

She gave him a humorless grin. “Nice try, Doc.”