Ashes

World Population

5,844,029,917

Change

— 1,321,588,536

12

So far, estimates indicated that at least two and a half billion people had been infected with the KV-27a virus, with a substantial proportion already having succumbed. Since that was a bit ahead of schedule, Perez had been concerned that the virus might burn itself out before the desired level of elimination had occurred, but the lead Project Eden scientists assured him that humanity had already reached a tipping point, and there would be no turning back. By the time the plague had run its course, over ninety-nine percent of the human race would be gone.

That’s when Project Eden’s real work would begin, implementing plans for a reborn human civilization that would benefit from all the existing knowledge and technology without the pressures of an overpopulated world.

Project Eden would lead this new society.

And Perez would lead Project Eden.

Claudia, sitting at her desk at the other end of the converted conference room, said, “Forwarding you a new report from Choi in North Korea.”

Even before she finished speaking, Perez’s computer bonged with the incoming email. He read the report and smiled.

Getting shipping containers into North Korea had not been feasible, so, as with a few other places, one of the Project’s alternative methods had been employed. In this case, several airplanes had been painted to look like they were part of the Air China fleet. On the morning of Implementation Day, after the real Air China planes had been removed from the equation, these new aircraft took over the routes into North Korea, and began spraying the virus as soon as they crossed the border. It wasn’t quite the saturation level the containers could achieve, but, according to Choi’s report, it seemed to have done the job.

The planes had been sure to hit places where military and government officials would be. With the current Great Leader and all his colleagues falling ill or already dead, the country had become rudderless. If it weren’t for the fact that the disease had also taken hold among the general population, the people might have risen up and finally taken back their nation.

“Anything new on Russia?” Perez asked.

“Not since the last check-in.”

The outbreak in Russia had triggered a minor civil war, as several opposing factions saw it as their chance to seize control of the country. In the end, of course, they would all lose.

The phone rang and Claudia answered it. After a moment, she put her hand over the receiver and said, “Hendricks in Switzerland. He’d like to talk to you.”

Perez nodded and picked up the phone. “Yes?”

“Director Perez, I’m a bit worried. We’ve compiled the latest data here, and our infection rates are a good fifteen percent below those elsewhere.”

“You’ve double-checked the numbers?”

“Yes, sir. I’m afraid we were right about that storm.”

There had been a snowstorm covering most of Switzerland and part of northern Italy on Implementation Day. Hendricks and those he worked with had been concerned it would prevent the virus from gaining proper traction in the area.

Small setbacks like this were to be expected, though, and there were contingencies to deal with them.

“All right. What’s your weather like now?” Perez asked.

“Clear,” Hendricks reported. “But another storm is due in two days.”

Perez looked over at Claudia. “Inform Manfred he is a go for the flyover mission of sections seven and eight.”

“Yes, sir.” She picked up her phone and made the call.

To Hendricks, Perez said, “The dousing will begin as soon as it’s dark. Your levels should come up in another thirty-six hours. If they don’t, we’ll go again. Keep a close watch.”

“I will.”

The phone rang again.

“Philippe Soto,” Claudia announced after answering it. “Rio.”

Perez picked up his receiver. “Yes?”

“Director, we’ve had some problems at Angra.”

“What problems?”

Angra was the nuclear power plant outside Rio de Janeiro. It was Soto’s job to make sure all South American utility plants — such as hydroelectric and nuclear — were secure. There were similar missions on the other continents. The hope, which so far had proved to be true, was that most of these types of facilities would be either shut down or reduced to self-sustaining levels by the operators as it became clear their staffs were quickly dwindling. The Project Eden teams were supposed to jump in when that didn’t happen. The last thing they wanted was an infrastructure in chaos.

“The government dispatched an army unit to guard the reactors,” Soto said. “They’re entrenched inside the buildings surrounding both Angra 1 and 2, and don’t appear to have been infected.”

“There’s been no order to shut the reactors down?”

“No.”

“Can we make that happen?”

“Um, I don’t think there’s anyone in charge down here anymore.”

“What about facility personnel? How many do they still have on site?”

“That’s our biggest concern. We think only two. They might be able to keep things going, but if anything happens to them, the reactors will be on autopilot.”

An annoyance, but with the safety features built into nuclear facilities, there wasn’t likely to be any kind of disaster. So Perez knew Soto’s men could wait until the soldiers ran out of supplies and had to leave, but that would require the team to remain on site.

“I take it your men are needed elsewhere,” Perez said.

“They should be in Buenos Aires already,” Soto admitted.

“All right. You have my permission to leave Angra and come back later.”

“Thank you,” Soto said. “I’ll have them return as soon as possible.”

Perez hung up and turned his attention to other matters, not knowing that Mata had been in error. There were no facility personnel still in the Angra facility, and while the reactors did have all the standard safety protocols and equipment in place, not everything always worked as planned. Especially when the only people in the building were young soldiers whose level of fear was only going to increase when the alarms started sounding, prompting them to try to shut the reactor down themselves.

In forty-two hours, Angra 1 would go critical, rendering the entire area unapproachable. Three weeks later, Angra 2 would follow, and the coastline south of Rio de Janeiro would become uninhabitable for thousands of years.

13

There were two reasons why Nolan Gaines didn’t want to get up that morning. The first and most painful was that he’d watched his wife Wendy take her last breath the evening before.

It had been not long after eight. He had just put Ellie to bed. She was so exhausted from the excitement of the day, she had fallen asleep sitting up while playing with her new stuffed bear. After he tucked her in, he went into the bedroom to check on Wendy. One touch of her cheek was enough to send him into panic. Her skin was freezing. He was sure she was already dead, but soon realized her chest was still moving up and down. For about the millionth time that day, he called 911, and for the millionth time he received the same “all circuits are busy” message.

He crawled into bed behind her and hugged her tightly, hoping to pass on some of his warmth, but her temperature continued to plummet. He was stroking her face when he realized she had stopped breathing. He searched frantically for a pulse, but found none.

He’d never been trained in CPR, but that didn’t stop him from trying. He pumped her chest, willing her heart to beat again. It was no use. She was gone.

Instead of calling 911 this time, he called the main police number. No busy-circuits message, but no live operator either. Only voicemail.

He left a message with his name, address, the news that his wife had died, and that he didn’t know what to do. Drained of energy and with his head pounding, he dropped onto the living room couch and was soon asleep.

The second reason he wished he could stay asleep was that the illness he now realized had been coming on the night before had taken full control of his body. His throat, his chest, his head — they all screamed at him for attention. Even his skin hurt.

“Daddy?”

He forced his eyelids open.

“Daddy, where are you?” Ellie’s voice drifted into the living room from the back of the house. “Mommy doesn’t want to wake up.”

Oh, Jesus!

Despite the pain, he pushed himself to his feet and staggered into the hallway. His daughter wasn’t there.

“Baby, where are you?”

“Daddy?” She was in the master bedroom.

No, no, no!

When he reached the door to the room he’d shared with Wendy, he saw Ellie sitting on the bed where he normally slept, his wife lying still beside her.

“Hi, sweetie,” he said. He tried to smile as he walked over to the bed.

“Mommy’s still asleep,” Ellie whispered.

“Mommy’s not feeling very well.”

“Like last night?”

“Yes, like last night.” He wanted to pick her up but didn’t think he had the energy, so he held out his hand instead. “Come on. I’ll make you some breakfast.”

After she ate, he put Elf on TV, and let her play with her new toys by the Christmas tree. He then sat down on the couch and promptly fell back to sleep.

Several tugs on his arm woke him. His eyes hurt even worse than before—everything hurt worse.

“Movie’s over, Daddy,” she said. She studied him, her face pinched. “Are you okay?”

“Think I’m a little sick, too, sweetie.”

Her eyes softened dramatically. “Oh, no. You want me to make you some soup?”

Despite his condition, he laughed, or tried to, anyway, as it quickly became a cough.

When the spasm passed, he sat up. “What would you like to watch now?”

“Rudolph?”

“Good choice.”

Once he got the program going, he asked Ellie, “You feel okay?”

She nodded without taking her eyes from the TV.

“You don’t have to cough? No runny nose?”

“Uh-uh.”

“What about your head?”

“My head?”

“Does it hurt?”

She put a hand on top of her head and said, as if it were a silly question, “My head doesn’t hurt.”

“Of course not,” he said. He pushed himself unsteadily to his feet. “You watch your show. I’ll be right back.”

As she picked up her bear and started dancing him to the music, Nolan staggered out of the room. Using the hallway wall to keep his balance, he returned to the master bedroom. There was no denying his condition was mirroring that of his wife’s the day before. He knew that meant his life could be measured in nothing more than hours. It wasn’t the thought of dying that scared him. It was Ellie.

She wasn’t sick, not yet, anyway. Perhaps she would wake up tomorrow feeling like he did now, but there would be no one here to take care of her. And what if she was still well? Maybe she’d be alive for days without anyone to help her. A horrifying image of Ellie sitting on his bed, trying in vain to wake both him and Wendy, flashed through his mind.

He grabbed his cell phone from his nightstand, and started working his way through his contact list, calling everyone he knew living in the Boulder area. But the few who actually answered sounded as sick as he was. When he reached the end of the list, he dropped the phone on the floor and buried his face in his hands.

What was he going to do? He couldn’t leave Ellie alone. She was barely five, for God’s sake.

Wendy’s phone, he thought. She would have the numbers for people he didn’t.

He found her purse on the kitchen table. After pulling out her cell, he took a quick peek in at Ellie. She seemed to be doing fine, so he returned to the rear of the house where she wouldn’t hear him. But what had started off with hope ended in the same despair he’d experienced with his own contact list. No one could help.

Out of options, he tried 911 again. Busy. So once more he dialed the general number.

“Please, I need help,” he said as soon as the voicemail beep sounded. “My name is Nolan Gaines. I’m ill and don’t think I’ll make it through the day, but I have a daughter here. She’s only five. Her name is Ellie. She’s not sick yet. She’ll be all alone once I’m gone. Please. Please send someone to help her.”

He hung up without realizing he hadn’t left an address.

“Doing okay?” he asked as he walked back into the living room.

Without looking up, Ellie said, “They shouldn’t be so mean to him just because he has a red nose.”

“No, they shouldn’t.” He sat on the couch. “Hey, come back here and sit with me.” When she was on the couch beside him, he put his arm around her and kissed her on top of her head. “I love you, Ellie. I love you so much.”

“I love you, too, Daddy.”

The words were like a tonic, easing his concern for a moment, but not taking it completely away.

“I love you, baby,” he whispered.

14

It was exhaustion that had finally caused Martina to fall asleep in the early hours of the morning, but her bone-weary coma was only able to mask her anxiety for so long, and four hours after her eyes had shut, her sense of dread opened them again.

She shuffled into the bathroom and forced herself to take a shower. As the hot water poured down her back, she rolled her head around and around, working the kinks out of her neck. Finally, she started to feel human again. She paused.

She was feeling human again.

What she was not feeling was sick.

Was it just taking longer to grab hold of her system? Or had she somehow managed to not catch it yet?

After she dried off and dressed, she went into the kitchen, wet a rag, filled a glass with water, and once more started her rounds. Her first stop was the room Mrs. Weber had died in. Martina had moved the woman outside the previous afternoon, so Pamela now had the room to herself.

Martina sat on the bed and slipped a hand under Pamela’s head to lift it, but quickly realized the girl didn’t need any water. Like Mrs. Weber, Pamela was dead.

Martina found it hard to breathe as she backed out of the room. She had planned on checking her parents next, but changed her mind and headed to the living room first. There, she found her brother dead, too, and though Riley was still breathing, Martina thought it wouldn’t be long before she joined Donny and Pamela.

Steeling herself, she reentered the hallway and walked up to the door of her parents’ room. For a moment, she just stood there, unable to open it.

Finally she forced herself to turn the knob.

Her mother and father lay side by side, pretty much in the same position they’d been in when she last checked on them. The one big difference was that the pain that had been etched on their faces was gone.

She had braced herself for this. She had known deep down what she was going to find, but actually standing there and seeing her parents like this, realizing she could never talk to them again, was beyond devastating. A part of her wanted to lie down between them, to take her parents’ hands in hers as she waited for her own death to come, but her feet wouldn’t move.

It was noise in the other room that finally stirred her — a thump, and a groan, then something falling on the floor. Martina returned to the living room, and stopped abruptly. Riley was sitting on the couch, her elbows propped on her knees, her head in her hands.

“Riley?” Martina said, hardly believing her eyes.

Her friend’s head jerked back in surprise. When her eyes focused on Martina, she said, “Water?”

“What? Oh, sure. No problem.” Martina was still carrying the glass she’d been taking to her parents’ room. She rushed it over, and raised it to her friend’s lips. “Here.”

Riley took a few sips, then coughed. Martina yanked the glass away.

“No,” Riley said. “More.”

By the time she had enough, the glass was half empty.

Martina grabbed the blanket off the couch and draped it around Riley’s shoulders.

“How are you feeling?” she asked.

“Like crap.”

Riley may have felt like crap, but Martina could see that it was several levels above the point of no return she’d been hovering around most of the night.

“Maybe you should lie back down,” Martina suggested.

“Need to go to the bathroom.”

“You have to throw up?”

Riley looked annoyed. “No. I didn’t say that.”

Putting an arm around her friend’s waist, Martina helped Riley walk to the bathroom.

“You need help?” she asked once she got her inside.

“I think I’m okay.”

Martina closed the door partway and waited nearby. After a while, the toilet flushed and water began running into the sink. When she heard the unmistakable yet surprising sound of Riley brushing her teeth, Martina pushed the door open again.

Riley looked over, the brush still in her mouth. “What?” she said, toothpaste foaming on her lips.

“Nothing. I…uh, I thought you were almost done.”

“I am.” Riley spit into the sink. “My mouth just felt like…yuck.”

If possible, Riley seemed even better than she had been a few minutes before.

When she was seated back on the couch, she asked, “How’s everyone else?”

“Asleep,” Martina said. She was afraid if she told her friend the truth, it might have an adverse effect on her recovery. “You want something to eat?”

“No. Maybe just a…maybe a nap.”

“Sure.”

Riley, moving slowly, stretched out once more on the sofa. Within moments, she was asleep.

For ten minutes, Martina sat on the floor next to her, worried that Riley would slip back to the near-death state she’d been in earlier, but her breathing remained strong, and the color that had returned to her cheeks was showing no signs of retreating. When Riley started snoring, Martina began to think her friend might actually live.

This realization caused her to wonder about something she thought she’d never think about again — the future. What should they do now? She decided to check the radio again to find out what was happening in the rest of the world.

As she walked to the car, she saw dark clouds beginning to gather over the mountains again, and knew more snow would soon be on the way. Since they had no tire chains for the Webers’ car, even just a few more inches would be enough to snow them in until the roads cleared again. How long would that be? A week? A month? All winter?

She climbed into the car and flipped the key. When the radio came on, all she heard was static. That was odd. When she’d last turned it off, she’d made sure to leave it tuned to a station out of Bakersfield. It was the strongest signal she’d found.

She scanned the AM band, slowing in the areas she’d found stations before, but she didn’t even pick up the hint of a voice. She tried FM, but there was nothing there, either.

Worried, she got out of the car and looked at the sky again. The clouds now covered three quarters of the sky and had grown even darker. Snow coming for sure, in the next hour or two at most.

Even though it was only the two of them now, Martina was sure they didn’t have enough food to last an entire winter. If they were snowed in and the flu didn’t kill them, starvation would do the trick.

Riley and I are alive, she told herself. It’s my job to keep us that way.

With a renewed sense of purpose, Martina ran back into the house. She spent three minutes in the kitchen throwing food into two bags, then grabbed a case of water and carried everything out to the car.

As she went back inside, she knew there was one other thing she should take. With reluctance, she reentered her parents’ room, and retrieved her father’s rifle and the two boxes of extra shells he’d kept in his bag. She hoped she didn’t need the weapon, but she had no idea what they would find once they were off the mountains.

She kissed her father’s forehead, and then her mother’s. “I’m sorry I can’t stay,” she said, sure they would understand. “I’ll come back as soon as I can. I love you.”

Wiping tears from her eyes, she returned to the living room and knelt down next her brother. She kissed him on the cheek, said, “I need to borrow this,” and grabbed his backpack.

She removed the contents, set them next to Donny, and put the gun and ammunition into the bag.

“Riley, get up,” she said, moving over to the couch. She gave her friend’s shoulder a shake. “Riley, come on.”

The girl stirred and opened her eyes only wide enough to see. “What is it?”

“We need to go.”

Martina slipped an arm under her friend and started to lift her up.

“Go where?”

“Don’t worry about it. You can sleep in the car.”

“The car? The others are there?”

Martina forced a smile. “No. It’s just you and me.”

“What about them?”

“Come on.” Martina pulled Riley to her feet and walked her to the front door.

“I don’t…understand,” Riley said as they stepped outside.

“I’ll explain later. Right now we’ve got to go.”

She helped Riley into the back and told her to lie down. Her friend still looked confused, but stretched out across the seat. Martina ran back into the house, grabbed a couple blankets, two pillows, and their sleeping bags, just in case.

At the car, she slipped one of the pillows under Riley’s head, covered her with the blankets, stuffed everything else into the front passenger seat, and climbed in behind the wheel.

The engine, not happy with the cold, ran rough for nearly a minute before it warmed up. As Martina shifted into Reverse, she took one last look at the house.

“I’ll be back,” she whispered. “I promise.”

She took her foot off the brake, backed up a dozen feet, and dropped the car into Drive.

Right before they reached the main road, a snowflake hit the windshield.

15

Josie was waiting by the large door to the Bunker’s emergency tunnel as the latest search party returned.

She had spent the entire night in the chair next to her father’s bed, sleeping, her hand on his. When she woke that morning, he was still unconscious, but Dr. Gardiner had told her his vital signs were continuing to improve.

She hadn’t wanted to leave, but the doctor needed to examine her dad’s wounds, and said it would be easier if she wasn’t there. He’d suggested she go get something to eat. Though she still wasn’t hungry, she went down to the kitchen anyway. A man was having breakfast at one of the tables, a walkie-talkie sitting near his plate. As Josie was asking Bobbie for a glass of orange juice, the radio had squawked to life, announcing that Brandon’s search party was on its way back inside. That sent her racing down the hall to the tunnel.

She shifted from one foot to the other as she waited, hopeful. But when the searchers finally appeared, she could see from the looks on their faces that they had once again been unsuccessful.

She heard Matt Hamilton’s distinctive limp coming down the hall behind her. “Any luck?” he asked as he reached them.

A man from the search party said, “We didn’t see him, but there was—”

“You still have people out there looking for him, right?” Josie asked Matt.

“Of course,” Matt said. “We’re searching around the clock now. I told you we would.” He focused back on the man he’d been talking to. “There was what?”

“Tracks,” the man said. “Out on the highway.”

“Brandon’s?” Josie asked.

“Hard to say.”

“Maybe we should go down to my office,” Matt suggested.

Josie instantly knew he was trying to cut her out of the conversation. “No!” she told him. “I want to hear what he has to say.”

Matt looked as though he were going to fight her on it, but then he sighed in resignation. “Okay, okay. But don’t interrupt him again.”

“I won’t.” She looked at the searcher. “Go ahead. What about the tracks?”

The man looked at Matt, who nodded. “There were several of them. Some big. Boots, probably men. One set smaller. Could be a woman.” He inclined his head toward Josie. “Could be your brother. They were on the highway a good thirty miles from here. Whoever made the smaller tracks looked like they’d been traveling alone for a while. The larger arrived by helicopter.”

“Helicopter?” Matt said, concerned.

Josie was worried, too. Helicopters had attacked the Ranch.

“Two skid prints,” the man said. “Looked like they all got on and flew away.”

“How long ago, do you think?” Matt asked.

“Had to have been within twenty-four hours, between that last snowstorm and this morning.”

Matt pulled out his walkie-talkie. “Christina?”

Static. “Go for Christina.”

“Check the local radar archives, and see if you can find a helicopter that landed on the highway about thirty miles southeast of here in the last…” He paused. “Let’s say thirty-six hours.”

“On it.”

As he put the radio away, Josie said, “Do you think they have Brandon? It’s them, isn’t it?”

“We don’t know anything yet,” Matt said. “Let’s see if we can ID the helicopter first.” He looked over at the search team. “You all get some rest. I need you back out there in six hours.”

“Yes, sir.”

As the team left for their quarters, Josie matched Matt stride for stride as he headed toward the communications room.

“If they took him, what are we going to do?” she asked.

“We’ll deal with that when we know more. There’s a very good chance those prints aren’t even Brandon’s.”

“They could be. I mean, don’t you need to have a plan just in case?”

They turned onto a new hallway.

“Josie, I promised you that we’ll find him. I don’t plan on breaking that.”

“I didn’t say anything about breaking your promise. I just want to know if there’s a plan for what to do if he was on that helicopter.”

Stopping in the middle of the corridor, he turned to her. “No, there’s no plan. Not yet. But if we think he was on that helicopter, we’ll come up with one based on what we learn.”

Logically, she could understand it, but it wasn’t the answer she wanted to hear. “You will go after him, right? No matter where he is.”

“Yes. We will. Now, please, let me go help them figure this out. I’ll let you know as soon as we know anything.”

She studied him for a moment, wanting to stay with him so she could be there the moment new information came in, but realizing she’d probably pushed her luck as far as she could for now. “The second you know something.”

“I give you my word.”

There was a knock on Josie’s door.

She opened it to find Chloe standing on the other side.

“Matt sent me to get you,” the woman said.

Josie immediately stepped into the hallway and closed the door. “They found him, didn’t they? Was he on that helicopter?”

“Matt’s got the details.”

“Just tell me. Was he on it?”

Chloe hesitated, then nodded. “We think so.”

Together they walked quickly through the Bunker to the communications room, where they found Matt leaning over the shoulder of another man sitting at a computer terminal. There was a map of a small city on the screen.

“Is that where he is?” Josie asked.

“We think it’s possible,” Matt said.

“Where is that?”

“Great Falls, Montana. It’s southeast of us.” He pointed at an airport at the east end of town. “Malmstrom Air Force Base. This is where the helicopter landed after it left the highway.”

“And you’re sure Brandon was on it?”

Matt nodded. “I had the search team out there right now follow the set of smaller footprints back as far as they could. They discovered the person had built a shelter to hide from the storm the previous night. Inside was a wrapper from a granola bar, same brand we stock in our emergency dumps. So, the same kind Brandon would have had with him. It’s not definite proof, but it seems pretty likely.”

“I want to go,” she said.

“Hold on.”

“You’re sending people out, right? I want to be one of them.”

“You’re not going anywhere. Your dad would never allow that.”

“My dad’s still recovering from surgery. Until he gets better, I represent our family, and one of us has to go. I’m the only choice.”

“No. That’s not going to happen.”

Josie glared at him. “Then I’ll go on my own.”

“No, you won’t. You couldn’t get out without someone stopping you.”

“I’ll keep trying. I will get out. I promise you.”

Matt scoffed and shook his head. Before he could say anything else, Chloe said, “I’ll be responsible for her.”

He spun around. “What?”

“She can ride with me.”

“No one even said you’re going.”

“I’m saying it, and I’m saying Josie can come along. I’ll make sure nothing happens to her.”

“You can’t promise that.”

“This isn’t the same world anymore,” Chloe said. “You know that as well as any of us. You’ve been preparing us for it.” She paused. “Kids can’t afford to be kids now. She’s going. If you want to send anyone with us, I suggest you pick them out now because we’re leaving.”

One of the motorbikes was out with the search party, meaning there were only two available to the rescue team. Since they would need seat space for Brandon, there was only room for one other on their expedition. Miller, the man who’d been with Josie’s father when he was hurt in the explosion, was the first to volunteer.

As soon as the bikes were gassed up, and Josie and her two companions were outfitted for the trip, they took off.

The ride over the snow-covered roads was cold and treacherous, but Josie barely noticed. She hugged tight to Chloe’s back and peered over the woman’s shoulder at the road ahead, sure that they would find her brother.

When they reached the spot where the helicopter had landed, they stopped only long enough for a quick look before continuing south. After a while, the road veered to the east and met the interstate. Though it also had been covered with snow, they were able to increase their speed as they drove down the wider and better maintained I-15.

About five miles before they reached Great Falls, Chloe signaled for Miller to follow her off the road.

“Where are we going?” Josie asked.

Chloe turned her head a few inches and yelled, “When I came through before, there was a roadblock not far from here. Would rather go around it this time.”

The new route was bumpy, but no military personnel tried to stop them.

It was midafternoon when they finally crossed into the city limits. The pale light of the low winter sun made the quiet town look stark and empty. Josie glanced at the houses they were passing. Though she was sure there were people inside, they all looked deserted.

About a mile from the base, they slowed to a stop.

“Was that here last time?” Miller asked.

“I didn’t get this far east,” Chloe said. “But I doubt it.”

Stopped at an angle partway into the intersection just ahead was a military truck. The disturbing part, though, wasn’t the truck itself, but the man lying motionless on the ground below the open driver’s door.

“You okay?” Chloe asked Josie.

“I’m fine,” Josie said. This wasn’t her first body.

Chloe took them forward slowly, keeping tight to the left side of the road so they were as far from the man and the truck as possible.

“Kind of looks like the vehicle that was manning the roadblock,” Chloe said.

“Well, he is wearing a uniform,” Miller said.

A nod from Chloe.

Now that they were closer, they could see the man’s open eyes staring at the sky, and under each, the dark circles that were one of the signs of Sage Flu.

“He must have been here at least half a day,” Miller said.

“Why hasn’t anyone moved him?” Josie asked.

Chloe looked around. “I’m not sure there’s anyone who could.”

They approached Malmstrom Air Force Base from 2^nd Avenue. As soon as the main gate came into view, Chloe and Miller pulled to the side of the road.

“Hop off,” Chloe said to Josie.

“Why?”

“I want to check something. I’ll be right back.”

Though she didn’t want to, Josie dismounted the bike.

“Stay with her,” Chloe said. She then gunned her engine and continued down the road.

Josie stepped out into the street so she could see where Chloe was going. As Chloe neared the gate, Josie expected someone to step out of the building to greet her, but even when Chloe stopped right at the entrance, the door to the building remained closed. She waited there for a moment, then got off her bike and went inside. Two minutes later, she reappeared, hopped on her motorcycle, and raced back to Josie and Miller.

“So?” Miller asked.

“One guard. Dead. At least as long as the guy we passed.”

Josie climbed back onto the bike and they drove unhindered onto the base.

Malmstrom was a military base, so someone should have been chasing them down to find out who they were, but there was no one else on the roads, and no sign of anyone in the buildings they passed. The place had turned into a ghost town.

“Are they all dead?” Josie asked.

“If not yet,” Chloe said, “soon enough.”

They headed to the airfield where the archived radar information indicated the helicopter had landed. It was clear that a big operation, or perhaps even several, had been underway. Trucks and cars were parked in front of most of the buildings, with dozens of planes and helicopters lined up not far away, some of which looked like they were in the process of being loaded with cargo.

Chloe led them over to the nearest cluster of helicopters and parked.

The moment the motorcycle’s engines cut off, they were plunged into a chilling silence. There was nothing. No wind. No mechanical sounds. No voices.

Not.

A.

Thing.

“Check the helicopters,” Chloe said to Miller. “See if there are any logs or something like that.” She motioned at the closest building. “Josie and I will check in there.”

The inside of the building was a big, open office that had dozens of desks covered with folders and clipboards and papers. None, unfortunately, seemed to have anything to do with Brandon. Miller had similar luck with his search.

“Let’s try that next group of helicopters,” Chloe said.

They drove down to where the three aircraft were parked. These were smaller than the ones they’d just checked, and unlikely to have been the type of vehicle Brandon had been picked up in. Predictably, they came up dry again. Another building had four helicopters out front, but still no information about Brandon.

There were only two helicopters at their next stop, but their skids were about the right size to have made the indentations in the snow back on the highway where Brandon had been taken. While Miller once more checked for flight logs, Chloe and Josie searched inside the building they were next to.

“What’s this?” Josie said, carrying over to Chloe a clipboard she’d found on one of the desks.

The header on the top sheet read:

Below were several names, followed by numbers that ranged between five and sixteen. Some had addresses, some didn’t. But none had any of the typical identifiers seen on other documents that indicated the names belonged to Air Force personnel.

Chloe looked it over and frowned. “I don’t know. Where did you find it?”

Josie led her back to the desk. It was Chloe who found the folder. She read through a few of the sheets inside, then said, “He was here.”

“What do you mean, ‘was’?” Josie asked.

“They airlifted him out. Apparently they were gathering up kids who didn’t have guardians.”

“Why would they do that?”

“Probably thinking they were protecting them.” Chloe looked at the file again. “It says here they were taken to Colorado Springs, Colorado.”

Josie’s heart sank. “How are we supposed to get there?”

“Getting there isn’t going to be the problem.” Chloe pulled out her phone.

“Who are you calling?”

Chloe hesitated before punching in a number. Instead of raising it to her ear, she hit the speaker button so Josie could hear, too. After two rings, Matt answered. She quickly filled him in on what they’d found, and said, “We need the jet. How soon can Harlan and Barry get it here?”

“I’m not sure that’s such a—”

“Don’t,” Chloe warned him as she shot a reassuring glance at Josie. “We’re going. So how long do we have to wait?”

A pause, then, “They can be there within an hour.”

“Good. Tell them to land right at Malmstrom. No one’s here but us.”

“All right, but the minute I need them anywhere else, they’re out of there. Understand?”

“I understand.” After she hung up, she smiled at Josie. “See? No problem.”

“How soon can Harlan and Barry get it here?”

Matt frowned. “I’m not sure that’s such a—”

“Don’t,” Chloe said sharply over the phone. “We’re going. So how long do we have to wait?”

Matt thought for a second. He was loath to take the jet out of circulation, in case it was needed to ferry vaccine to any survivors they might find, but he also couldn’t justify having it sit on the runway while Brandon was taken farther and farther away from his family. “They can be there within an hour.”

“Good. Tell them to land right at Malmstrom. No one’s here but us.”

“All right, but the minute I need them anywhere else, they’re out of there. Understand?”

“I understand.”

He hung up and looked across the room. “Kenji!”

The LIC leader glanced over.

“Have a load of vaccine taken to the plane right away. Say, enough for two hundred.”

Kenji looked confused. “Is there a group out there I don’t know about?”

Matt shook his head. “I need to send Harlan on a side trip, and I want him to be ready if he needs to go somewhere else later.”

“Got it.”

Matt had Christina call Harlan with instructions, then pulled his tin of ibuprofen out of his pocket and popped four pills into his mouth. His leg was really killing him today, and the stress wasn’t helping things.

“Harlan can be in the air in ten minutes,” Christina announced.

With a nod, he walked over to Kenji.

“The vaccine will be there in a few minutes,” Kenji said.

“Thanks,” Matt told him. “If something comes up, tell me right away, and we’ll redirect the plane the moment we can.”

“Nothing in our coverage area here yet, but we have identified four more groups.”

“Where?” Matt asked, anxious for some good news.

Kenji led him to the computer station a woman named Terri Wright was manning. “Can you bring up the map?” he asked her.

“Two seconds,” she said.

With a few clicks of the keys, a map of North America appeared, zooming in on a small town along the coast of Baja California.

Kenji glanced at Matt. “Santa Blanca. A little fishing village. Only ways in and out are by water and a twenty-mile dirt road. We picked up a call for help fifteen minutes ago.”

“How many?” Matt asked.

“The guy we talked to said there are fifty-seven.”

“Vaccine en route?”

Kenji nodded. “Out of San Diego. Should be there within ninety minutes.” He touched Terri on the shoulder. “Next one.”

The map shifted to a farm in Louisiana, where a family of twelve had gathered for Christmas and barricaded themselves in an old farmhouse. The closest vaccine to them was with the Resistance’s contingent in Atlanta, and would take three hours to get there.

The third location was across the Atlantic in the town of Luleå in northern Sweden. A group of students and teachers who’d been involved in a research project during the winter break had taken refuge in one of the science buildings and been able to keep all others out. Their problem now was not only trying to avoid the flu, but it had been over twenty-four hours since they’d eaten the last of their food. Unfortunately, the closest vaccine to them was outside Amsterdam, and the nearest plane that could fly it up was currently on a mission in Macedonia. The survivors were told to hang tight and someone would get to them by tomorrow.

“And the fourth?” Matt asked.

“Bring it up,” Kenji said.

When the final map location appeared, the image was all white — no roads, no town name, no anything.

“Where the hell is this?” Matt asked.

“Pull back,” Kenji said.

The view zoomed out. It was an island, just off the coast of…

“Antarctica,” Matt said.

“Uh-huh. King Sejong Station. It’s Korean.” He looked at Matt. “They have seventy-five people there.”

“What about other facilities? There are dozens down there. Have we reached any of them?”

“Not yet. Sejong, however, says they’d talked to several other bases a couple days ago, and at least four had reported outbreaks.”

“But they’re okay?”

“Apparently. The station is closest to South America. I can send one of the teams but the problem is, that’ll tie our people up for nearly twenty-four hours.”

Which would leave a hole in their coverage. “I assume supplies aren’t a problem for them,” Matt said.

“They could go six months if they needed to without a new shipment.”

Their isolation was a big plus, too, Matt knew. “Tell them…” He paused, hoping he was making the right decision. “Tell them we’ll get to them as soon as possible. When you feel confident you can free up a team, send it.”

It would have to do for now.

“Anything else?” Matt asked.

“We’ve picked up a few other faint signals that we’ve been trying to home in on, but no real info yet.”

“Okay, let me know the moment that changes.”

16

Jack Cutroy’s head was beginning to pound. And no wonder — it had been almost three days since he’d had any real sleep. Such was the life of an EMT in a world that was falling apart.

He and his partner Allen Descantes had spent the first few days decked out in biohazard suits, trying to save lives. That hadn’t worked out so well. While they were still wearing the suits every day, their mission had changed.

Allen’s phone rang again as they pulled up to the next address on their list. He checked the display and sent the call to voicemail.

“Sheila again?” Jack asked.

A nod.

“Dude, go home. I can handle this.”

“That’s not the job.”

“Screw the job.”

Allen’s situation made Jack’s headache seem trivial. Allen’s wife Sheila had taken to calling him nearly every thirty minutes to plead with him to come home to her and their two kids. That was one problem Jack didn’t have. He hadn’t been in a relationship in nearly four months, and had never been married.

Jack knew his partner was being pulled by his conscience in both directions — a duty to a job he swore to undertake no matter what, and a duty to his family that he’d vowed to protect at all costs.

Allen stared at the floor, then looked out the window. “Which house is it?”

Jack looked at the list. “Uh, 4324. That brown one there.”

As they climbed out of the truck and headed to the house, Jack said, “I’m serious. Go home. If I can’t handle this on my own, then I’m useless.”

A frown from Allen. “I don’t know. I can’t just leave you alone.”

“Yeah, you can. And you can do it without feeling guilty. All we’re doing now is a glorified body check. It’s not what we were trained to do.” He paused. “Be with your family.”

More silence. “You sure?”

“Absolutely.”

They turned down the path that led to the front door.

“All right,” Allen said, looking relieved. “After we drop off this one.”

“Good. Then let’s get this over with, huh?” Jack knocked on the door. “Boulder Fire Department!”

Dead silence from the other side.

He knocked again. “Boulder Fire Department. We’re responding to your call.”

Nothing.

He glanced at the list and read through the details of this particular stop. “All right,” he said. “Let’s try around back.”

There was no lock on the gate, so they were able to get into the backyard without climbing the fence.

It was a nice place. Not a huge yard, but not too small. No pool, but there was a Jacuzzi, though there was no water in it at the moment. A pair of French doors along the back opened into what looked like a family room. Jack tried both handles. They were locked, so he peered through the window, but detected no movement.

Like pretty much everywhere else they’d been in the last day, they were probably too late.

He tapped on the glass. “Boulder Fire Department!”

Was that a noise? He cocked his head and listened, but decided it must have come from outside somewhere.

“You want this one?” he asked Allen.

“Sure.”

Once Jack was out of the way, Allen picked up a small potted plant from the patio, and struck it against the glass of the French door near the handle. Cracks rippled, but the window stayed intact. He hit harder on his second try, and this time the window shattered. After he knocked out the pieces stuck in the frame, he reached in and unlocked the door.

“Hello?” he called as they moved inside. “Hello. Anyone here? Boulder Fire Department.”

There was a Christmas tree all lit up in the living room, surrounded by wrapping paper and ribbons and boxes and toys.

“I don’t think I’m going to like this,” Allen said.

They checked the kitchen and dining room. Both were clear. With a sense of foreboding, Jack led them to the hallway entrance and flipped on the light. Before heading down it, he checked the seals around his wrists and neck, making sure everything was secured. The first room they came to was dark. He reached inside and turned on the light. Bathroom. Empty.

The next room appeared to be some kind of home office. The room opposite it was a child’s bedroom. The bed was short and unoccupied. He motioned to the closet, and Allen slid the doors back. No one there.

The master bedroom was the only place left. Jack sent up a silent prayer, hoping that the residents had abandoned the place, and he could strike this address from their list.

No such luck.

There was a body on the bed. A woman, young, maybe late twenties at most. Even with the marks on her face, Jack could tell she’d been pretty.

“Dead at least a day,” Allen said, leaning over the body.

There was a doorless walk-in closet along the wall on their right. Jack looked inside. Clothes and shoes, both women’s and men’s.

He eyed the door to the en suite bathroom. Not wanting to, but knowing they needed to be thorough, he forced himself over to the opening.

From there he could see it was a good-sized room. Comfortable. Dual sinks, a linen closet, separate shower and bath. The only thing out of place was the body lying in the tub.

It took all of his will to step over the threshold and walk across the tile floor for a better look.

Not just one body, but two.

The man, presumably husband to the woman lying on the bed, took up a majority of the space. Curled across his chest was a little girl.

Jesus, maybe I should go home, too.

There was something in the guy’s right hand, shiny and metallic. Jack only needed to take another step closer to see it was a gun.

Oh, God. Had the guy killed his little girl then himself?

The message the man had left on police voicemail had been transcribed and included in the notes they were given. Even in print, the man had sounded desperate — a father scared of what would happen to his daughter after he died. Having not received an immediate response, had the guy decided he had no options left?

Wait, wait. Where’s the blood? There’s no blood.

Perhaps the man had been unable to follow through. Or maybe he’d succumbed to the flu before he could. Whatever the case, Jack was thankful the trigger hadn’t been pulled. That was one sight he didn’t think he would be able to stomach.

Still, they were both dead, which meant he and Allen had to—

He froze.

The girl was looking at him. Her eyes were only slits, but she was definitely looking at him.

He dropped to a knee. “Hey, there. Are you okay?”

Her eyes squeezed shut and she turned her face against her father’s chest.

Jack looked back at the clipboard and skimmed through the man’s message again. “Are you Ellie?”

He could tell this surprised her. After a moment, her head twisted enough so that she could look at him with one eye.

“Don’t be afraid, Ellie. I’m a fireman. I’m here to help you.”

“Fireman?” she whispered.

“Uh-huh. Your daddy called us to come get you.”

“Daddy won’t wake up. Mommy, too.”

“Yeah, they’re in a deep sleep right now. That’s why your daddy wanted you to come with us.”

“He did?”

“He sure did.”

“No,” she said, shaking her head. “I stay with them.”

“Hey, Allen,” Jack called out. “I found the girl.”

When Allen entered the bathroom, Ellie pulled tighter to her father.

“It’s okay,” Jack said. “He’s my friend. Another fireman.”

“She’s alive?” Allen said, surprised.

“Yeah.”

“Sick?”

“I don’t know. Can’t tell yet.” To the girl he said, “It’s okay. Can you tell me how you are feeling?”

It took a bit more coaxing before she finally said, “Scared.”

“Of us?”

She nodded.

“Don’t be scared of us. We’re only here to help.”

“Okay,” she said, less than convinced.

“Can you tell me if you’re feeling sick? Headache? Sore throat? Have you been coughing?”

She shook her head. “No. Just…just hungry.”

“I think we can do something about that. What’s your favorite thing to eat?”

She thought for a moment. “Peanut butter and jelly sandwich.”

“Why don’t I go make you one?” Allen suggested.

“Okay. Grape jelly. Not Mommy’s strawberry.”

“Grape. Got it,” Allen said, then left.

Jack held out his arms. “Let’s go into the living room and let your father rest.”

She hesitated.

“It’s okay,” he said. “I’m not going to hurt you.”

She held on to her father a few seconds longer, then reached up. Jack picked her up and carried her out of the room.

“Why do you have that on your head?” she asked, touching his hood as they headed for the living room. “Makes your voice sound funny.”

“It does, doesn’t it?”

“Uh-huh.”

“It’s one of our uniforms,” he told her. “For special days like today.”

“Because it’s Christmas time?”

“No, no,” he said quickly. “Not Christmas. I just meant some days we wear them.”

“Oh.”

Allen appeared a short time later with a peanut butter and jelly sandwich wrapped in a paper towel. “Here you go,” he said, handing it to her.

She took a big bite, and stopped mid-chew. Through a stuffed mouth, she said, “Tanks.”

“Ellie, how about you eat that in our truck?” Jack asked.

Her head moved rapidly from side to side. “No. Have to stay here with Mommy and Daddy.”

“Remember what I told you? Your daddy asked us to come and get you?”

“Stay here.”

“Someone will come to take care of your parents,” Allen said. “We need to take you someplace else…someplace where you can have more peanut butter and grape jelly sandwiches.”

Looking skeptical, she said, “But Mommy and Daddy.”

“Your mommy and daddy wanted you to come with us,” Jack said. “Okay?”

She looked like she might cry, but she said, “Okay.”

As Jack carried her toward the door, she suddenly stiffened and looked over his shoulder. “Bear!”

“What?”

“Santa brought me a bear. I need it!”

He looked at the toys around the Christmas tree but didn’t see any bear. “Where is it?”

She began squirming in his arms. “I’ll get it.”

Not sure if he should take the chance, he set her down. The moment her feet touched the floor, she bolted across the room and into the hallway.

“Do you want to draw her blood or do you want me to do it?” Jack asked Allen as soon as she was gone.

“She’s gotta have it already,” Allen said. “She’d been breathing the same air as her parents. God only knows how long she was lying there with her dad.”

“We still have to check.”

Allen frowned. “Yeah. I guess. All right. I’ll do it.”

A few seconds later, Ellie ran back into the room, a black, curly-haired bear hugged to her side. Jack lifted her up.

“Ready?” he asked.

She nodded.

“All right. Let’s go.”

17

The first thing Ash felt was the IV needle in his hand. Of course, he didn’t know it was a needle at the time. To him, it just felt odd. Next came the pain in his ribs, tight and throbbing. His knee was sore, too. And there was an especially sharp pain along his abdomen.

What the hell’s going on?

He blinked.

A white room, and some noise off to his side.

He closed his eyes again and tried to recall the last thing that had happened.

Night. The forest. No, a house in the forest. He’d been at a…a door. He’d been trying to talk to the…woman inside. What then? The window, right. He’d moved over to it and…and…and the current pulled back and she was there, looking startled. And then…?

There was no “and then.” This was the “and then,” this room. He’d been standing on the woman’s porch, and now he was lying in this room, apparently injured.

Why had he been out at her house in the first place? Why had he wanted to talk to her?

He tried to remember the reason, but his mind was still mush.

He heard a door open. When his eyelids parted again, a man in a white jacket with a stethoscope around his neck was standing next to his bed. A doctor, Ash guessed. That would make sense, wouldn’t it? But Ash had never seen him before.

The doctor was taking Ash’s pulse. As he finished, he noticed that Ash’s eyes were open.

“Welcome back,” the man said.

Ash licked his lips. “Where am I?”

“That’s a good question,” the man said. “Not really sure I know the answer.”

“I…don’t understand.”

“Hold on.”

The doctor disappeared from view. There was the sound of the door opening again, and then the doctor’s voice saying, “He’s awake.”

There were more voices, far away and not easy to understand. When the doctor finally came back to the bed, a familiar woman was with him.

“Captain Ash,” she said, smiling. “How are you feeling?”

“I know you,” he said.

“Lily,” she told him.

Right. Lily. Nurse at the Ranch. Then this must be…

“The Bunker?” he asked.

“That’s right.”

He looked over at the doctor, confused.

Lily said, “That’s Dr. Gardiner. He saved your life.”

“Thank you.”

“Apparently we’re even,” the doctor said as he pulled back the sheet and looked at the wounds on Ash’s torso.

“Even?”

The doctor answered with only a smile. When he finished his examination, he pulled the sheet back into place. “I’ll check back in a little while.”

Once he was gone, Lily said, “Chloe kind of, well, kidnapped him and his family from Great Falls. If she hadn’t, they would’ve died there. Coming here to save you meant they got inoculated.”

The door burst open, and Matt and Rachel rushed in.

“Thank God,” Rachel said, grabbing Ash’s hand and smiling. “How are you feeling?”

“He still needs a lot of rest,” Lily told them.

“Of course, of course,” Matt said.

It seemed to Ash as if they were all going to leave again. “Hold on. I…I…”

“What is it?” Lily asked.

He gave himself a moment to get his words in order. “Why am I here? What happened?”

“You don’t remember?” Matt asked.

“I remember standing in front of a house. That’s it.”

“The house exploded,” Matt said. “Knocked you into the yard. Thankfully Miller was with you, or you’d have died out there.”

“But why were we there?”

Matt’s brow furrowed, surprised. “You were looking for Brandon.”

Brandon! It all came back in a rush.

He tried to sit up, but his torso screamed in pain.

“You just had surgery yesterday,” Lily said. “You need to conserve your strength.”

Ash grabbed Matt’s wrist. “He wasn’t in the house, was he?”

“No.”

“You’re sure?”

“Absolutely.”

“You found him?” Ash asked, hoping that’s what Matt had meant.

“Not quite. But we’ve found his trail, and think we know where he is.”

Ash put his palms on the mattress, intending to try to sit up again, but Lily held him down.

“Let me go,” he said. “I have to find him.”

“You’re not going anywhere,” she said.

“You need to rest,” Matt told him. “Don’t worry. Chloe went to get him.”

“Chloe?”

“She’ll bring him back.”

Ash relaxed. Though he’d rather be getting Brandon himself, he trusted Chloe to handle it.

He could feel his eyelids growing heavy again. Forcing them to stay open, he said, “Josie, how is she?”

“She’s fine,” Matt said after a brief pause.

Good, Ash thought. This time he didn’t fight it as his eyes closed. Brandon on the verge of being found, Josie safe — that was as much as he could ask for at the moment.

18

Martina’s hands ached from gripping the steering wheel of the Webers’ car so tightly. The drive off the mountain had been the most nerve-wracking experience of her life.

While there had been areas where the snow barely covered the road, in other parts, the swirling winds had piled up drifts two — and even three — feet high. Every time she encountered one of these, she had to slow the car to a near standstill and find a way around it.

Then there was the ice. More than once, the car skidded on an unseen patch, threatening to slide off the road. She was pretty sure there was at least one time the tires on the passenger side had moved off the asphalt, edging dangerously close to the ditch that paralleled the road.

The scariest part by far, though, was when she reached the section of road that led down the canyon to the desert. Two lanes, barely any shoulder, no guardrails, and a seventy-degree downward slope on her right that promised a plummet to the rocky chasm floor several hundred feet below if she made even the slightest error.

Since there didn’t appear to be any other vehicles using the road, she stuck to the middle of the asphalt and kept her speed low and steady. About the only good thing was that the snow was only at the very top, and it wasn’t long before her worries simply consisted of taking a turn too wide and driving off the cliff.

When they finally reached the bottom, Martina stopped the car at the side of the road and climbed out. Leaning against the fender, she took several deep breaths until her body stopped shaking, and her heart rate slowed enough for her to concentrate on what to do next.

They were near the north end of Indian Wells Valley. Along the west side were the towering Sierra Nevada Mountains that she and Riley had just descended. Across the north was the smaller yet still imposing Coso Range. Hills in the south, and the gradual rise of the valley in the east served as the last two boundaries. In the distance on the east side, she could see the hump that was B Mountain. It was a big hill, really, located on the China Lake naval base. Its name was courtesy of the giant B the students at Burroughs High School — her alma mater — repainted on its rocks each year.

Home.

She looked toward the highway about a mile away. Usually during the week between Christmas and New Year’s, US 395 was packed with skiers from LA headed to Mammoth Mountain three more hours to the north, but today there wasn’t a car in sight.

She climbed back into the sedan and settled into her seat, her gaze pausing on the gas gauge. It had been at a little more than a quarter tank when they’d set out, but now it was nearly empty. Having never driven the Webers’ car, she had no idea how far it could go on fumes. Ridgecrest was at least twenty miles away. And while the much smaller Inyokern was closer, it was still a good ten miles. What if they ran out of gas before then? Riley was in no condition for any kind of long hike.

Wasn’t there something to the north? The last time she’d gone any farther in that direction had been a couple years earlier when the Burroughs softball team went to a tournament up in Bishop. She closed her eyes and tried to remember.

Yes. There had been something. A few stores and…a gas station, right?

She started the car, drove to the intersection with the highway, and looked left. She could make out a few buildings in the distance, maybe three or four miles away.

God, I hope I’m right, she thought, then turned north on 395.

About a quarter mile before she reached the buildings, a sign along the road read: PEARSONVILLE.

The town wasn’t a thriving metropolis by any means, more a wide spot on the highway. Like everywhere else since they’d left the cabin, it was devoid of activity. It did have a gas station, though.

She pulled up to pump number one and hopped out. While the station still had power, the pump needed a credit card to activate it. Martina’s ATM card would have worked, but it was buried in the sedan’s trunk under the water and bags of food. Instead of digging it out, she decided to go inside the attached minimart to see if she could turn the pump on.

The door whooshed open, and a bong announced her arrival, but there was no one else there to hear it. The cash register and pump controller was in an area sealed off from the rest of the store by a Plexiglas partition. She tried the door that led into it, but it was locked.

Food’s free today,but not the gas, apparently, she thought.

She frowned and took a look around. Near the back was a short hallway with one door to a bathroom, and a second that was unmarked. She opened the unmarked door.

Maintenance room — mops, buckets, cleaning supplies. On the floor under a shelf was a toolbox. She opened it up and found a hammer.

She knew the Plexiglas wouldn’t give way, but the handle on the door was no match for her softball-enhanced swing. It broke off quickly, but the latch remained in place. Using a flathead screwdriver from the same toolkit, she inched the latch back until it finally popped free. With a simple push, the door opened.

Would have been easier to just use your card, she thought. But the truth was, she didn’t know what the future held, and the few hundred dollars still in her account might be needed for something else. It was better not to use it if she didn’t need to.

The next trick was figuring out how to turn on the pump. It took a few tries before she let out a whoop of triumph as the light next to pump number one turned green.

“What are you doing?” The voice was muffled but still made her jump.

Riley was standing outside the store, looking through the window.

“You almost gave me a heart attack,” Martina said.

“Why are you in there?”

“We need gas. Had to turn on the pump.”

Riley looked around. “Where’s the attendant who works here?”

“They’re all gone.”

For a second it was as if Riley had forgotten all about what was happening. Then it seemed to click.

“Right,” Riley said. “Oh, shit.” She grabbed the wall as if she’d suddenly lost all her strength.

Martina rushed from the booth and out of the store, the door bonging again as she left. When she reached Riley, she grabbed hold of her friend to steady her. “Look. You’re alive. I’m alive. That’s all that’s important right now.”

Riley stared at her for a second, then looked back at the car. “Where are the others?”

Martina hesitated. “There are no others. Only you and me.”

“But…but my mom. Pamela.”

“And Donny and my dad and my mom.”

Riley gaped at her. “All of them?”

“Yes. All of them.”

This time, Riley did lose the strength to stand, and almost took Martina down with her as she dropped onto the ground.

Martina wanted nothing more than to slump down next to Riley, but she knew one of them had to keep her head. “Stay here. I’m going to get the gas started.”

The pump worked flawlessly. As it filled the sedan’s tank, Martina kept an eye on Riley, deciding it best to let her friend have a few minutes alone. The girl stared at the ground the entire time, unmoving. When the pump clicked off, Martina replaced the nozzle in its holder and walked back over.

“You going to be okay?”

For a second, Riley’s expression didn’t change. Then she looked up. “What?”

“Are you going to be all right?”

“All right? No. No, I’m not.”

That’s when the tears started.

Martina knelt in front of her. “I didn’t mean it like that. I know we can’t be all right. I just meant…” She stopped, thought about it. “Hell, I don’t know what.”

She started to cry, too.

How long it lasted, she didn’t know — ten minutes, fifteen — but at some point the tide receded, and she was able to get control of herself again.

“I think M&Ms are in order,” she said as she wiped her face and rose to her feet.

“Skittles,” Riley blurted out. “I’d like Skittles.”

It was tempting to clear the shelves and take as much as they could fit in the car, but neither girl could bring herself to do that yet. Deep down, they were both hoping that everything would go back to…if not normal then something close. Martina didn’t let herself think about it too much, though, because deep down, she knew normal would never return.

Riley switched to the front passenger seat for the final leg of their drive. Her flu symptoms had been replaced by a general weakness one would expect after such an illness, similar to how Martina had felt after the spring outbreak.

That got Martina thinking again about her own condition. She still had no symptoms. It was like the virus had passed her by completely. It reminded her of something her mother had told her about chicken pox. Though Martina had received the vaccine when she was young and had never had the disease, her mom had said that wasn’t always the case, and that everyone used to get it as a child.

“Your grandma made me go play with the neighbors’ kids when they had it so that I’d catch it, too,” her mom had said.

“Why would she do that?” Martina asked.

“So I’d get it over with and wouldn’t have to worry about it anymore.”

Martina still hadn’t understood, so her mother explained, “Usually you only get chicken pox once. After that, your system builds up an immunity and you never get it again.”

Could it be that after surviving her first brush with Sage Flu, Martina’s system had built up immunity? If that were true, then…

She stopped herself, not wanting to hope too much. She could test the theory soon enough.

They saw their first body as they drove through Inyokern. Two bodies, actually. Both were sitting in a car parked on the other side of the road. Though they may have just been sleeping, neither girl believed that. The tiny town itself seemed otherwise deserted.

Once they passed the bed where the old railroad tracks had been, Martina increased their speed and raced down Inyokern Road toward Ridgecrest.

In disaster movies, when the world seemed to be coming to an end, streets would always be packed with abandoned cars. That wasn’t what they found. The streets were completely empty. It was clear that the president’s order for a nationwide curfew had been heeded and people had stayed home, where they had probably become too sick to venture out again.

At least it gave Martina and Riley clear sailing into town.

Though it was evident Riley no longer needed to see a doctor, she still wanted to go to the hospital. That would be where her father had taken her sister on Christmas Eve, and she hoped that would be where the girls would find them.

Like the roads, most of the parking lots they passed were empty. But that wasn’t true of the lot surrounding the hospital. It was jam-packed. There were even cars along China Lake Boulevard, where neither girl had ever seen any parked before.

Martina pulled into the lot, and stopped the sedan in the middle of the road near the main entrance. Given the lack of people, she was pretty sure what they would find inside, so blocking the way wouldn’t be an issue.

Riley was out of the car first, moving surprisingly fast given her condition. Martina caught up to her just inside the hospital lobby, where her friend had come to a sudden stop.

The reason was immediately clear. Here was where the dead had taken up residence. There were over two dozen bodies in the lobby, sitting in chairs, lying on the floor, propped against the wall.

“Hello?” Riley called out, her voice weak.

“Anyone here?” Martina shouted. When no one responded, she looked at her friend. “If your sister was admitted, she’d be in one of the rooms, not out here.”

“Right. Sure.”

Behind the reception counter, Martina brought up the patient database on one of the computers, and searched for Laurie Weber.

“Her name’s not here,” she said.

“Maybe…maybe they got too busy to input everything. This place looks like it got crazy.”

“Maybe,” Martina said, not adding, “If she is here, she’s probably dead.”

It took them an hour to do a room-by-room search. What they found was a mix of the dead and the almost. The vast majority of the latter was unconscious, but a few moaned as Martina and Riley passed. It was a real-life house of horrors. Martina lost track of how many times she nearly screamed.

“She’s not here,” she said after they checked the last room on the top floor of the tower section.

Riley looked one way down the hall, then the other. “But this is where my dad would have taken her.”

“Maybe they went home,” Martina suggested, hoping it would prod Riley into movement. The sooner they got out of the hospital, the sooner she’d stop feeling like there was something crawling under her skin.

“Home?” Riley said as if she didn’t understand. Then her face brightened. “Yeah, they didn’t have any room here. After Laurie was treated, Dad probably took her to the house.”

They headed for the stairwell, walking at first, but running within the first couple of steps, both anxious to leave. Martina reached the bottom of the stairs first, threw the door open, and screamed.

“Help me. Please.”

A man stood teetering a few feet on the other side of the door, facing her. He was wearing green scrubs, and looked about the same age as Martina’s parents. There was no question he was sick — his watery eyes rimmed by blackened skin, snot running out of his nose.

He tried to raise his hand as if he wanted to reach out to her, but his arms only moved a few inches.

“Please,” he repeated. “Someone has to take care of him.”

The words seemed to knock the wind out of him. He fell back against the wall, panting.

“T…t…take care of who?” Martina asked from just inside the stairwell.

“Come on,” Riley whispered. “We need to go.”

Whether it was guilt for having screamed at the man, or compassion for his request, Martina couldn’t bring herself to move. “Are you talking about a patient?”

A nod.

“Where is he?” she asked.

The man’s lips parted, but no words came out.

“Where is he?” she repeated.

“Post…Op.” The man’s legs began to shake, and he slid down the wall until he was sitting on the floor. “Please.”

As if in slow motion, his eyes closed and he tilted to the side, falling the rest of the way onto the hallway tiles. If he wasn’t dead, he would be soon. Martina thought he’d probably been hanging on by sheer force of will, and now that someone had shown up, he could let go.

“Let’s get out of here,” Riley said. She stepped into the hallway and turned for the main exit. When she realized Martina wasn’t following, she looked back. “Come on!”

“We need to check,” Martina said.

“Why?”

“He asked us. We need to check.”

“Are you kidding? His patient is probably dead.” She paused, then added, “We’ve checked all the rooms already. There was nobody we could help.”

“We didn’t think about Post-Op.”

Instead of waiting for Riley to come up with another argument, Martina headed to the right, looking for a map of the hospital.

“Martina, come on! Please!”

“Wait for me at the car. I won’t take long,” Martina shouted.

She found a map pinned to a bulletin board. Though Post-Op was not listed, Surgery was, so she figured it had to be in the same general area.

She located the surgical rooms first, then found Post-Op down the hall. It was a big room with several beds, most empty. Those that weren’t were occupied by the dead. All except the bed at the back of the room.

Unlike the other beds, it was surrounded by a see-through plastic wall, and on it lay an older man. The heart monitor beside the bed beeped a steady, rhythmic beat.

Martina examined the plastic wall. Someone had duct-taped the top and bottom to the ceiling and floor. On her side of the wall were two big oxygen tanks, each with plastic piping running from their nozzles under the duct tape into the enclosed space.

“Hello?” she said.

The man on the bed stirred and opened his eyes.

“Who are you?” he asked, weary.

“Martina,” she said. “Martina Gable.”

He looked at the room beyond her. “Where’s Frank?”

“You mean your doctor?”

“My son. He’s taking care of me.”

“Your son’s your doctor?”

“Yes. Where is he?”

Just to be sure, she described the man she’d met in the hallway.

“That’s him. Why isn’t he here?”

She bit the inside of her lip, unable to tell the man what she’d seen.

He seemed to realize it on his own. “He’s dead, isn’t he?”

Martina still couldn’t bring herself to speak.

“I knew he was sick,” the man said. A tear slid down his cheeks. “He was pretending he wasn’t, but I knew.”

“How long have you been in there?” she asked.

“Since those damn containers opened up. Frank picked me up at home and put me in here.”

“What…what can I do for you?”

“Nothing.”

He turned away.

She looked around, unsure what to say or do. The man was trapped inside. Once he stepped out, he’d catch the flu. Her gaze fell on the air tanks. The gauge on one was completely empty, and the other was heading in that direction.

“You know where they store the air tanks?” she asked. “You’re almost out. I’ll get you another one.”

“No. Please don’t.”

“But you’ll suffocate in there.”

“Please. Leave it. It would just be putting off the inevitable.” He paused. “Frank only put me in here because it made him feel like he was doing something.” He looked at her again and stared for a moment. “Why aren’t you sick?”

“I don’t know.” She paused. “How about food? Do you need any?” She wasn’t sure how she could get anything to him without letting some of the virus through.

He nodded at the cabinet next to his bed. “I have more than I need.”

Frank had apparently set him up well.

She turned for the door. “I’m going to get you a new tank.”

“No! Please don’t! What happens when that one runs low? Are you going to come back? And what about when there are no more tanks? I appreciate the offer, but you’re only trying to make yourself feel better. If you hook up another tank, I’ll rip down the wall and die that way. If you don’t, at least I’ll have a different option.”

For several seconds, Martina didn’t move. Finally she headed for the door.

“Please!” he yelled. “Let me be!”

Entering the hallway, she figured the storage room would probably be to the left since she didn’t remember seeing anything like it in the other direction. But was the man right? Would she only be changing the tank for her own peace of mind?

As much as she wanted to deny it, she knew the answer to the question.

She found Riley waiting outside a minute later.

“Finally!” Riley said. “Did you find anyone?”

Martina shook her head. “You were right. We were too late.”

The Webers’ place was located in a small housing tract off Ridgecrest Boulevard, almost due south of the high school. Riley was leaning forward, nearly touching the dashboard as they rounded the corner onto her street.

Her house was near the middle of the block.

“I don’t see our car,” Martina said. Mr. Weber had used Martina’s parents’ car to bring Laurie back to Ridgecrest.

“Dad probably parked it in the garage,” Riley said.

Martina didn’t saying anything.

As the car rolled to a stop in the driveway, Riley threw her door open and jumped out.

“Hey, wait!” Martina yelled before hopping out after her. “Wait!”

Riley stopped and looked back.

“Maybe I should go in first,” Martina suggested.

“Why?”

Did Martina really have to explain it? She stared at her friend, hoping to silently convey what she meant.

“I’m fine,” Riley said. “Whatever we find, I’ll deal with it. But I’m not waiting out here.”

She tried the front door but it was locked. Before Martina could ask if she had a key, Riley sprinted toward the corner of the house.

“We can get in through my window,” she yelled.

Her bedroom window was located along the side, right before the point where the backyard fence met the wall. With practiced ease, she popped the screen out, and pushed in on her window so that even though it was locked, the latch cleared the frame.

“I take it you’ve done this before,” Martina said as they climbed inside.

With a quick nod, Riley moved to her bedroom door. “Dad? Laurie?” she called as she raced into the hallway.

The search was quick and unsatisfying. No one was home.

“Where are they?” Riley asked. She paused mid-step and whipped her head around. “We didn’t check the garage.” She ran through the kitchen, opened the garage door, and disappeared inside.

When Martina entered the garage a moment later, she found Riley standing in the empty space.

“Why aren’t they here?” Riley asked. “If they’re not at the hospital and not home, where…where…”

Martina thought her friend might start crying again, but Riley’s eyes remained dry.

“Maybe he saw that the hospital was too busy,” Martina said, “and took her to Bakersfield, or even Palmdale.”

She didn’t actually believe that, but she felt compelled to give her friend some hope. What she really thought was that they probably would never know.

Riley didn’t seem to hear her, though, as she continued to stand in the middle of the room.

Martina gave her another moment, then walked over and put an arm around Riley’s shoulder. Slowly she guided her friend back into the house and sat her on the couch.

“Let me get you some water,” she said, heading into the kitchen.

She opened a cabinet looking for a glass, but instead found bottles of tequila and rum and whiskey. Though she had never really taken to alcohol herself, she knew it had a way of relaxing people. Not knowing if one type would be better than another, she pulled down the closest bottle, Absolut Vodka, found a glass, and poured a healthy dose into it.

Back in the living room, Riley was still catatonic. Martina raised the glass to the girl’s lips and dribbled a little into her friend’s mouth. Riley sputtered, pulled away, and looked at Martina.

“What the hell is that?” she asked.

“Vodka.” Martina lifted the glass again. “Come on, another sip. It’ll make you feel better.”

Riley scrunched up her face as Martina helped her take another sip, then she took control of the glass and tipped it all the way up so everything poured in quickly. When she was done, she squeezed her eyes shut for a second, her body tensing.

“That was not pleasant,” she said.

“You want another?” Martina asked.

“No way.”

Martina scrutinized her. “How do you feel?”

Riley considered the question. “Better, I guess.” She paused, her eyes widening a bit. “Yeah, definitely better.”

Martina stood up. “I’ll get you some water now.”

“Thanks.”

When Martina returned, she found Riley lolled back against the couch, asleep. She repositioned her so that Riley was lying on the couch, and then draped a blanket over her. Finding a piece of paper in the kitchen, she wrote a note and put it on the coffee table so that Riley would find it if she woke up.

She wanted to check out the hunch she’d had on the highway, and hoped to God she was right.

A few minutes later, she was heading west on Ridgecrest Boulevard, and not long after that, she passed the city limits into an area where the houses were more spread out, with acres of desert land between them. When she reached Jack’s Ranch Road, she turned north, then east again at Horseshoe Lane. The house she was looking for was on the right side, about a quarter mile from the intersection. Like many of the homes in the area, it was two stories and surrounded by trees planted when the house had been built.

She tried not to get her hopes up as she turned onto the dirt driveway, but she couldn’t help herself.

Please let me be right.

Nearing the house, she noticed something odd along the side that hadn’t been there last time she visited. It looked like someone had been digging.

She stopped, turned off the engine, and climbed out of the car. The stillness of the house made her realize she was probably in for a disappointment. A part of her wanted to get back in the car and drive away. At least that way, the possibility of being right still existed.

Just check, she told herself.

The desert sand crunched under her feet as she approached the house. Her plan was to go right up to the front door and check if it was open, but she was pulled off course as she got a better look at the disturbed ground she’d noticed while driving up.

There were five roughly rectangular mounds of dirt, side by side.

Graves, she realized. They couldn’t be anything else.

Five graves, not six. Of course, the last to die wouldn’t be able to dig his own. Still…

“Noreen?” she called. “Noreen, are you here?”

She jogged to the small covered stoop at the front door and tried the handle. It was locked, so she pounded on the door.

“Noreen! Are you home?”

As she was about to knock again, there was an explosion above her and several dozen thud-thud-thuds on the grass behind her.

“Whoever you are, get the hell out of here!” The familiar voice came from above.

“Noreen! What are you doing?”

“Get out of here!” The gun blasted again.

“It’s me, you idiot! Martina! Stop shooting at me!”

A pause. “Martina?”

“Yes! Why are you shooting?”

“You’re…you’re not sick?”

“No!”

Martina decided to chance looking out from under the porch’s roof. Her friend was leaning out of a second-story window, a double-barreled shotgun pointed at the ground.

“Martina!”

“Who the hell did you think I was? A zombie or something?”

“Well…I, um…”

Martina realized that was exactly what her friend had been thinking. “For God’s sake, put that thing away! There’s no reason to shoot anybody! This isn’t a video game!”

Noreen sheepishly pulled the gun inside.

“Get down here!” Martina told her.

When the door opened a few seconds later, the girls hesitated for a moment, and then threw their arms around each other.

“Oh, God. I thought I was the only one,” Noreen said. “I thought I was all alone.”

“You mean you and zombies,” Martina told her.

“You, uh, could have been one.”

Martina pulled back from the embrace, but kept her hands on her friend’s arms. “No, I couldn’t have been. There’s no such thing. There’s the dead, the dying, and us. No walking corpse that wants to eat you.”

“They only eat brains.”

“Noreen!”

“Okay, okay. Sorry. But what was I supposed to think? I’m sleeping on my bed, and suddenly someone’s knocking on my door.”

Martina smiled as she shook her head and pulled her friend into another embrace. Noreen had always had a vivid imagination, fed by a steady diet of horror films, manga comics, and time on her Xbox.

When they pulled apart again, Martina said, “Have you checked on the others?”

“What others?”

“From the team.”

Noreen looked like she didn’t understand. “The softball team?”

“Yeah.”

“Why would I do that?”

“Don’t you get it? It’s why you and I are alive.” Martina could tell it still wasn’t sinking in. “The flu last spring. It’s the same thing killing everyone now. We lived through it, and it made us immune.”

It took a moment before hope dawned on Noreen’s face. “You think so?”

“I’m not a scientist or anything, but you’re alive and I’m alive. Don’t you think we should check and see if the others are, too?”

At first, the search was as fruitless as the one for Riley’s father and sister. Some of their friends’ homes were completely unoccupied, while others were serving as the final resting place for one or more bodies. None of the dead, however, were their old teammates.

Once they finished the east side of town, they headed across town on China Lake Boulevard toward Valerie Bechtel’s house, up the hill near the college. As they passed the intersection with Ridgecrest Boulevard, Martina considered checking on Riley, but decided it would be better to let her sleep.

“Hey,” Noreen said, looking out the front window. “Isn’t that Jilly’s car?”

Martina followed her friend’s gaze. It did look like Jilly’s car. It was parked in a lot between Wienerschnitzel and Carl’s Jr.

“And that’s Amanda’s next to it,” Noreen said. Amanda was another from the team. “And Martha’s, and…and I think that’s Valerie’s.”

Martina pulled into the lot and parked in an empty spot next to Carl’s.

“Of course, this is where we’d find them,” Noreen said, almost giddy.

Carl’s had been one of the team’s favorite hangouts.

As they climbed out of the car, they could hear loud music blasting from inside the restaurant but couldn’t see anyone, as most of the dining area was tucked around the side of the kitchen, out of sight.

With a shared grin, they jogged over to the entrance and pulled the doors open.

The music wasn’t just loud. It was blaring.

Katy Perry, “Last Friday Night.”

Martina and Noreen peeked into the dining area. In the back corner, crowded around the table the team always claimed whenever possible, were eight girls with food and drinks spread out in front of them.

Martina held Noreen back until the song was finished, then gave her a tap on the back. They stepped out where they could be seen.

“You should be careful,” Martina said loudly enough for everyone to hear. “The manager will kick you out for playing the music that loud.”

Head twists and shocked stares.

“Holy shit,” someone said.

The words broke the trance and suddenly the girls were up and rushing toward Martina and Noreen.

At some point as Martina passed from one embrace to another, she began to laugh. It wasn’t that she could forget her family was dead, or all the other things she had seen.

But for this moment, this one precious moment, she was happy again.

19

Jack Cutroy had gladly taken his reassignment. Anything would be a relief after days of finding only the dying and the dead. What had surprised him, though, was that the call with his new orders came from William Ownby, chief of the entire Boulder Fire Department. It turned out there was only a handful of personnel still on the job. From the sound of Ownby’s voice, Jack had guessed it wouldn’t be long before the chief went home, too.

“Need you to gas up your vehicle, then get over to the C&M Clinic,” Ownby instructed. “You’re on escort duty.”

“What kind of escort duty?”

“That girl you picked up, Ellie Gaines. She passed her test.”

“Test?”

“She’s negative for the Sage Flu.”

“You’ve got to be kidding. She was stuck in there with her parents for who knows how long.”

“Well, she’s clean,” his boss said, sniffling. “There’s a place near Colorado Springs called Camp Kiley. They’re taking in kids who test negative but have nowhere to go. Need you to take her there.”

Jack and the girl had now been on the road for nearly three hours. With the roads all but deserted, they were making great time, and were only about half an hour away from the camp.

He glanced over at Ellie, strapped into a car seat on the passenger side of the cab. “You doing all right?”

She nodded. “Uh-huh.”

“Need to go to the bathroom?”

A shake this time. “Uh-uh.”

“Thirsty? Hungry?”

More shakes.

Through the whole exchange she never once looked at him. Not surprising. She had to be scared out of her mind.

Jack focused back on the road and winced, his head hurting again. He’d taken a couple aspirin in Boulder before he’d donned his biosuit again, and it had helped for a while, but now the headache was back with a vengeance. Once he dropped the girl off, he could take a few more and maybe even find someplace he could sleep for a while. That would make him feel better for sure.

He really wished he could take off the hood. He knew keeping it on wasn’t helping his head at all, but keeping the suit was an order from on high, this time to protect the girl in case he was carrying the virus.

Of course, he wasn’t; he knew that. He still felt great. Well, he did have the headache, sure, but that was from overwork and lack of sleep. Still, orders were orders, and he’d been trained well enough to stick to them even if he didn’t think they were necessary.

He checked the GPS, ten curving-up miles left.

“Won’t be long now,” he said.

From the time Brandon had arrived at Camp Kiley the day before, through the middle of the morning that day, cars and vans had come pretty much every few hours with new kids, sometimes just one, sometimes more.

The last had dropped off its passengers around ten thirty, but since then there had been no more deliveries. That was why the sound of an approaching vehicle made everyone perk up.

The truck that appeared out of the forest looked to Brandon like the kind EMTs used.

Loni, who had taken to staying close to him, asked, “How many?”

“Can’t tell,” Brandon said, only able to make out a man in protective gear behind the wheel.

As soon as the truck stopped, Sergeant Lukes jogged out and motioned for the driver to roll down the window. The two talked for several minutes, with the driver handing out a piece of paper at one point.

While all this was going on, Brandon, with Loni silently tagging along, worked his way close to where the other supervisors were waiting. Right after he got there, Sergeant Lukes finished his conversation and walked over to his colleagues.

“A girl,” he said. “Five years old. Goes by the name Ellie.”

“Just the one?” Mrs. Trieb asked.

“That’s it.”

“Where from?”

“Boulder.”

“Blood test?” Mr. Munson asked.

The sergeant handed over the piece of paper he’d been given. Several of the supervisors looked it over. When they were through, Mrs. Trieb nodded. “All right. Looks good.”

The sergeant moved back to the truck, this time heading for the passenger side, and opened the door. He leaned in for a few seconds. When he backed out, the girl was in his arms. She looked frightened.

The sergeant grabbed the door with his free hand and started to close it, but stopped when the driver said something. A big ball of fluff gently sailed out the door and into the sergeant’s hand. A stuffed bear. He gave it to the girl, and it seemed to calm her down.

There was more conversation. At one point, the sergeant pointed down the road, twisting his hand one way and then the other as if giving directions. When he finally shut the door, the truck took off.

“This is Ellie,” the sergeant said when he returned.

“Hi, Ellie,” Miss Collins said. “Is it okay if I hold you?”

The girl hesitated for only a moment before letting Miss Collins take her.

“Let’s go inside and get you something to eat, huh?” Miss Collins said.

As she turned, the stuffed bear Ellie was holding knocked against one of the other supervisors and fell to the ground. She didn’t realize it until they were almost at the cafeteria door, when she suddenly looked around and started to hyperventilate.

“Bear! Bear!”

“What, sweetie?” Miss Collins asked.

“Bear!” The girl motioned with her hand back the way they’d come.

Brandon scooped it up and hurried over as Miss Collins was turning to see what the girl was talking about. “Here you go,” he said, handing Ellie her stuffed animal.

She immediately hugged it to her chest.

“Thank you,” Miss Collins said.

“No problem.”

The girl gave him a smile.

“Make sure to hold on tight,” he said.

She hugged the bear to her chest and smiled again. “Never let go.”

“That’s right,” he said. “Never let go.”

What a dick.

Jack couldn’t believe the nerve of the guy. Come on. He’d been on the road for more than three hours, and had been awake for…well, he couldn’t remember exactly how long now, but a long time. And on top of that, his headache wasn’t going away.

All he’d asked the guy at Camp Kiley was if he could park his truck off to the side, and sleep in the cab for a little while before he headed back out.

“I’m sorry, sir. I can’t allow you to do that,” the man had said.

Sure, he sounded polite, but he was being an asshole. He’d then gone so far as to give Jack directions to some lodge about ten miles away.

Up here? On the mountain? On these roads? That was too far. Jack was exhausted and hungry, but when he asked for some food? Forget it.

“I’m sure you can get something to eat at the lodge,” the man had said.

How hard would it have been to just give him a sandwich or a piece of fruit, even. A piece of goddamn fruit? They wouldn’t have had to do anything but throw it through the window.

If Jack hadn’t reined himself in, he would have gunned the engine and spun the tires on the way out to show his anger. But an idea had come to him, and if he was going to follow up on it, any show of aggression would’ve put them on alert.

The road between the camp and the highway curved around a hill not long after he left. As soon as he was out of sight of the asshole and his friends, Jack pulled the truck to the side of the road and killed the engine. Before he could open the door, though, he tensed, his eyes squeezing shut.

It felt like a nuclear explosion had just gone off in his head.

Once it eased enough so he could function again, he removed his thick plastic hood with its built-in mask and stumbled out the door. From one of the truck’s exterior compartments, he removed the kit with the aspirin and tried to dry swallow three pills. It was harder than he expected. His throat felt tight, constricted.

The headache. It’s messing up my whole system.

He grabbed a half-empty bottle of water from up front, and used what was left to wash the aspirin down. He leaned against the truck, his eyes closed, and willed the pills to take effect. No such luck.

In fact, the only response he received was a growl from his stomach, notifying him that the aspirin was a poor substitute for food.

He looked across the road. Out there, through the trees, was Camp Kiley, and all the food his stomach could hold. Beds, too. Dammit, they’d have to let him use one.

Stepping away from the truck, he had the fleeting thought that there was some reason he should stay away from the camp. But it was in and out of his mind so fast that by the time he reached the trees, he had forgotten all about it.

That big building — that had to be the one, Jack thought.

The only problem was, most of the people at the camp were inside it. If they spotted him, especially that asshole who’d sent him away, they would probably chase him off again without giving him anything. Easier to sneak in and take what he wanted, but that probably meant waiting longer than his empty stomach could stand.

After scanning the rest of the camp, his gaze settled on the two rows of rectangular buildings. They were obviously dormitories. Maybe he couldn’t get to the main food supply just yet, but if the residents of Camp Kiley were anything like how he was back when he’d gone to camp, some of them would have a little food stashed away in their bags. More than enough, he thought, to tide him over until the kitchen cleared out.

He started with the dorms along the back row since they were hidden from the building the others were in. Moving from bed to bed, he rummaged through each bag he found, but netted only a single candy bar in the first building he checked.

What was wrong with these kids? Hadn’t they ever been to camp before?

Once more, he had the sensation he was missing something, that this situation was different than normal camp. And once more it faded away.

As he entered the second dorm, he felt something in his throat, like maybe he’d swallowed wrong when he’d chomped into the chocolate. He tried to clear it, and ended up coughing for several seconds. Ironically, it actually did the trick, though it left him with a tingling sensation in his chest, like he might have to cough again before long.

Whatever. Just find the food!

The new building proved to be a bit more lucrative. A bag of Doritos, two bottles of water, and a large, half-eaten chocolate chip cookie.

Nothing of note in the third dorm. In the fourth, three sticks of string cheese and another bottle of water.

As he moved toward the front row of four buildings, he heard the crunch of snow not far away. He pressed himself against the side of the nearest dorm, thinking he’d been seen. But the steps continued moving at a steady, unhurried pace, and a few seconds later the door of one of the buildings in the back row opened.

Jack decided then and there that maybe he had enough food to hold him over. As quietly as he could, he snuck back into cover of the woods, and found a downed tree to sit on while he enjoyed his stolen meal.

Surprisingly, he only got a few bites into the chocolate chip cookie before he found that he wasn’t all that hungry anymore. He tried to set the cookie on the log beside him but somehow missed, and the cookie fell onto the thin layer of snow that covered the ground.

He closed his eyes. His headache was worse than ever now.

The next thing he knew, he found himself on his feet. He looked around for the log, but it was gone. Confused, he searched for something familiar. Trees and more trees and…

The dorms. He could just see them between the pines off to the left.

How the hell did he get here?

He tried to remember, but nothing came to him. I need someplace to lie down for a bit, that’s all. He looked at the dorms again, and recalled the warm beds he’d seen inside. I’ll just stretch out on one for a little while.

He staggered forward, his hands grabbing at the trees to help keep him upright.

He was ten feet from the edge of the woods when his hand missed the trunk it was aiming for and he tumbled to the ground.

He made an effort to get back on his feet, but was barely able to raise his head off the snow.

This is all right, he thought. Rest for a few minutes, then you can…

Sleep came first, but Jack never rose to his feet again.

Mason Lewis had been one of the first kids to arrive at Camp Kiley. Being older — he was fifteen — he had a better understanding of what was going on, but that didn’t make it any easier. His nights had been spent mostly awake, and his days in shock.

Being basically a good kid, he appreciated the fact that Mrs. Trieb and the other supervisors were doing their best to keep everyone distracted. But their latest effort, organizing a game of Bingo in the cafeteria, wasn’t working for him. So he’d excused himself, saying he needed some fresh air, and went back to his bunk in cabin seven.

Mason had been on a cross-country flight from his mom’s place in Boston to his dad’s in San Diego for the holidays, when his plane had made an emergency landing in Denver due to the imminent closing of airports across the country. He and one other kid had been jammed into a car and driven to the camp.

When he reached his cabin, he went straight to his bed, intending to stretch out for a little while, but as he sat down he noticed that his suitcase was unzipped. He had definitely not left it that way.

Angry, he pulled it open and hunted through his things to see what was missing, but everything seemed to be there. What the hell?

As he zipped up his bag, he caught sight of the suitcase belonging to the guy in the bunk next to him. It was open, too. Looking around, he saw that all the bags were open.

There was a thief among them. What else could it be?

He needed to tell Mrs. Trieb and Sergeant Lukes right away, as much to find out who did it, as to make sure he wasn’t the one accused of stealing.

But when he returned to the cafeteria, news about someone searching through the dorms wasn’t the only thing he brought back with him.

Mutations of the KV-27a virus were bound to happen. Its creators at Project Eden had known this, and, from a strictly academic point of view, were curious to see how these would manifest. They had neither resources nor time to conduct a thorough study, however, so they would never know that one such occurrence happened in Boulder, Colorado.

There, a young emergency medical technician was infected by a strain of the virus that not only caused severe headaches, but also clouded the victim’s mind and greatly impacted his sense of judgment.

The technician would not be the last to contract this variation, as his diminished sense of right and wrong allowed him to pass it along. An unfortunate occurrence for those he infected, especially because this particular version had one other notable difference from the main strain.

The accelerated incubation period between initial contact and full-on symptoms.

20

“I did not see it until it was almost in the surf,” Henri Boucher said over the radio. He was another resort guest, a Frenchman, currently on watch over the north end of the island. Just before calling in, he had spotted a boat approaching one of the beaches. “I am sorry. It is small so not easy to see.”

“It’s okay,” Dominic said. “How many are on it?”

“It looks empty, but I cannot be sure. The area, it is blocked from the sun by part of the island, so have many shadows, you know?”

“Whoever was on board could have already jumped off and swum to shore,” Robert said to Dominic. “I’ll take some people and do a search before it gets too dark.”

Dominic nodded grimly. “Be careful.”

As Robert left, Henri’s voice came back over the radio. “It is almost to the beach. Hold on.” There was a long pause. “Oui, it is there now. I do not see anyone moving, though.”

“Keep your eyes on it and report if anything changes,” Dominic said.

The evening before, they had moved the radio down to the room behind the terrace bar, since the area had become the main gathering point for the Isabella Island survivors, or, as Robert had started calling everyone, the Bellians. The name had yet to stick.

Dominic stepped out of the room, and looked across the bar to see who was nearby. “Mark!”

The lanky, brown-haired engineer from Toronto glanced over.

“Can you find Luis then meet me back here?” Dominic asked.

“Sure.”

As Mark left, Dominic caught Renee’s attention. “Take over on the radio for a little while,” he told her.

“Something up?” she asked.

“Everything’s fine,” he said for the benefit of anyone who might overhear. There was no sense in getting the others worked up if the boat turned out to be nothing. Once she was in the back room, though, he told her the truth, then said, “Robert’s checking if anyone might have already reached shore. I’m going to go take a look at the boat.”

“Are you sure that’s a good idea?”

“Somebody has to do it.”

Back in the bar, he found Luis and Mark waiting for him. “You guys up for a little hike?”

It would have been faster to take the speedboat around the island to the beach, but due to their limited supply of fuel, they’d decided no boat would be used unless absolutely necessary. For the same reason, all the generators, save the one powering the refrigerators and the radio, were shut down after dark. At nighttime, it was all torchlight or sleep.

So they took the slower route and walked across the island on one of the many resort-maintained paths. Unfortunately, the beach in question was not one of the better ones Isabella offered, so there was no path that went all the way there, and for the final quarter mile, they had to cut their way through the jungle.

“Henri, we’re getting close to the beach. If you see movement, that’s probably us,” Dominic said into his walkie-talkie.

“Okay, I will watch for you.”

“Renee?” Dominic asked.

There was a click. “Right here.”

“Any news from Robert?”

“Hasn’t spotted anyone yet. He’s circling around toward you, so you might run into him.”

“Good to know. Thanks.”

Part of the problem with this particular beach was that, depending on the tide, there was little room between where the waves crashed down and the brush began. Throw in the uneven rocky ground just below the water, and it was enough to keep most people away.

Dominic and his two companions came out of the jungle at the east end, about a hundred and fifty feet from the boat. It was smaller than he expected, probably no larger than a standard rowboat. In fact, it probably was a rowboat. It rolled side to side as the wave crashed unevenly into it, pushing it farther up the short beach.

“I don’t see anyone,” Luis said.

“Yeah, it looks empty,” Mark agreed.

Dominic noticed movement in the vegetation at the far end of the beach. He was just starting to think someone had made it to shore when Robert and three others stepped out onto the sand.

“Robert, you see us?” Dominic said into his radio while waving his free hand above his head.

“Gotcha,” Robert replied. “Any footprints over there of someone who might have run by?”

Dominic and the others looked around. “Nothing.”

“Clean over here, too.”

“Tell your guys to hang out there while you meet me at the boat,” Dominic said.

“Got it,” Robert told him.

Dominic told Mark and Luis to wait, and then set out across the beach.

The boat was fifty feet closer to his position than Robert’s so he reached it first. It wasn’t quite what he’d first thought. Though the size was right, it was a little more robust than any rowboat he’d been in. A personal fishing vessel would be his guess.

He looked at the surrounding beach. No footprints anywhere. Maybe someone just forgot to tie it up and it drifted out on the current.

He walked over to the side and peered in. There was a pile of rope in the front, and an old fishing net. One oar was lying against the hull, but there was no sign of a second. In the back was a jumbled tarp. He reached over and pulled up one end.

With a start, he dropped the canvas and jumped back.

“What is it?” Robert asked. He was about twenty feet away now.

“Stop!” Dominic yelled.

Robert halted. “What?”

“Go back! Don’t let anyone near here.”

“Dominic, what is it?”

“The boat’s not empty.”

Dominic had looked long enough to know the body under the tarp belonged to a woman, but how old she had been, he couldn’t have said. There was no mistaking what had killed her, though. They had all seen similar bodies on TV over the last few days.

The Sage Flu had come to Isabella Island.

21

The records Chloe and Josie found at Malmstrom Air Force Base said that Brandon had been flown into Peterson Air Force Base, which shared space with Colorado Springs Airport. Unfortunately, there was no mention of where he had been taken after that.

The Resistance’s jet landed at the airfield shortly after seven thirty p.m. Chloe went up into the cockpit as they taxied toward the central part of the facility, and scanned the buildings that lined the tarmac to see if there was any indication of which one they should start with.

Five nearly identical buildings straddled either side of the control tower structure. A few additional buildings were located at both the south and north ends. Nothing, though, stood out as the place where she and the others could pick up Brandon’s trail.

“We might as well start at the control tower,” she told Harlan.

The pilot guided the plane across the airfield, and stopped just short of the sign on the ground that said WELCOME TO PETERSON AFB.

“I’m not sure how long we’ll be,” Chloe said.

“Could you use some extra hands?” Harlan asked as he and Barry powered the plane down. “We’d like to help.”

She put a hand on Harlan’s shoulder and gave it a squeeze. “Definitely.”

They divided into two groups: the two pilots in one, and Chloe, Josie, and Miller in the other. The idea was that each group would take a building and do a quick check before moving on to the next. If they weren’t able to dig anything up that way, they’d go back and do a room-by-room examination.

Chloe and her group started with the control tower complex. Most of the lights inside were off, so they were constantly flicking switches. No one had chosen to die in the building, but that was about the extent of their success, as they could find nothing that pointed to Brandon’s whereabouts.

The next building was a combination of hangar and offices. In one of the offices, Chloe found a TV on, the screen displaying only digital noise. She was going to turn it off, but, curious, she flipped through the channels. A majority displayed the same static. Several of the larger cable networks, including all the news stations, displayed a “Technical Difficulties” screen. The only station still broadcasting content was a music video network that must have been fully automated.

She punched the Off button, turned around, and jerked in surprise. Josie was standing in the doorway, her eyes fixed on the TV screen.

“They’re all dead, aren’t they?” the girl asked.

Chloe wasn’t sure how Ash would want her to answer, so she went with the truth. “No. Most are probably still sick.”

“But they will die.”

Chloe nodded. “Probably.”

“What’s going to happen then?”

“I…” Chloe paused for several seconds. “I don’t know.”

By eleven p.m. they still had nothing.

Chloe could see they were all bone tired. “Let’s get some rest,” she said.

“But…but Brandon,” Josie protested. “We can’t stop.”

“Just a few hours. Right now we’re all so exhausted we might miss something.”

Josie tried to argue the point, but finally admitted Chloe was right.

Instead of sleeping on the plane, they bunked out in the lobby of the control tower. Josie was the first to fall asleep, and soon after Miller and the two pilots followed suit.

Chloe took longer, Josie’s question from earlier repeating in her mind.

What’s going to happen then?

What, indeed.

“This is interesting,” Claudia said, staring at her computer screen.

“What is it?” Perez asked.

“One of our operatives in Denver has been tracking down a rumor concerning kids being taken to a secluded location in the Rockies to keep them safe. It’s been a little tough getting anything definitive because of today’s escalated death rate, but he was finally able to confirm it.”

Perez perked up. Children were something the Project could use. They wouldn’t be tainted by adult prejudices, and could be worked more easily into the Project’s plans.

“Where, exactly?” he asked.

“Outside Colorado Springs. A place called Camp Kiley.” A pause. “It’s only six hundred miles from us.”

“Do we have a squad available?”

She consulted her computer again. “There’s a team that could fly into Colorado Springs first thing in the morning, then drive up. Should be able to wrap it up and be out of there before noon.”

Perez thought for a moment. While the Project would soon be activating its plan to identify and deal with survivors, there was no sense in wasting an opportunity.

“Set it up,” he said. “If the kids are truly uninfected, have them vaccinated and taken to our nearest facility.” He didn’t have to add the same wouldn’t apply to any adults who might be found.

“Yes, sir.”