His throat dry, he stood and walked to the back of the room where several bottles of water sat on a counter. As he took one and opened it, a man in an army uniform walked up and grabbed another bottle.
The officer started to drink, but suddenly pulled the bottle away and coughed.
Already on edge, everyone in the room whipped around and stared at him.
He held up a hand and said in a hoarse voice, “Went down the wrong tube.”
That seemed to mollify the crowd. As the others returned their attention to the monitor, Esposito said, “You all right?”
“Fine,” the officer replied. He put his hand in front of his mouth as he cleared his throat. “Hate when that happens, you know?”
“Yeah,” Esposito said.
On the screen, the president was finishing up, which meant he would be joining them soon. Walking back to his seat, Esposito noticed a few droplets of water on his hand that must have popped off his bottle when he’d opened the top. He wiped them off, and took another drink.
Unfortunately for him, and for everyone else in the room, the drops didn’t come from his bottle. They were from the army officer’s cough, one that hadn’t been caused by water going down the wrong pipe.
3
The storm had grown steadily worse. The snow, at first a light dusting on the road, had begun to accumulate into a growing blanket of white, making it more and more difficult for Chloe as she drove south on the motorcycle.
As if that weren’t enough to heighten her anxiety, each mile she traveled took her farther from the Ranch, adding to the time she would take to return with the help Daniel Ash needed.
An explosion at a house where he had been searching for his son had left Ash unconscious and seriously injured. Billy, the Ranch’s doctor, had been killed several days earlier, leaving the Resistance with a nurse who could tend to Ash’s visible wounds but was untrained to diagnose and treat anything more severe. Knowing timing was critical, Chloe and two others had raced away on motorcycles in different directions in hopes of finding a doctor who could help. Not just any type of doctor; they needed a surgeon. Chloe had blown through two towns already, but each was too small to support that skill level. The nearest place she might find what she was looking for was Great Falls.
On a sunlit, summer day with no one else on the road, she could have made it there in little more than an hour. But it wasn’t daytime or even close to summer, and the darkness and snow were more than doubling the normal travel time.
She checked her watch. Almost a quarter to ten.
Dammit! I should be on my way back by now.
She resisted the urge to increase her speed, knowing she was already pushing her luck, but she couldn’t help feeling that every lost second might be crucial to Ash’s survival.
The road took a wide turn up ahead. If she remembered correctly, once she was around it the highway would straighten out for the final run into Great Falls. Maybe a few more miles an hour then.
Her hand tightened on the grip, ready to sprint the final distance to the city as soon as she finished the turn, but instead of accelerating, she immediately reduced her speed. Fifty yards beyond the turn, a pair of wooden barricades was set across the road. Parked behind it was a military truck. Dual, portable floodlights were set up on the asphalt, lighting up the area.
A roadblock.
The front wheel of the motorcycle wobbled as the bike slowed. Chloe fought to maintain her balance as she brought her ride to a stop ten feet shy of the barricade.
Two men in military uniforms popped out of the truck. They were wearing full biohazard hoods, and armed — one with an M4 rifle, and the other with a handgun, probably a Beretta. By what she could see of their faces through their faceplates, they seemed as surprised to see her as she was by them.
“Hold it right there,” the shorter one ordered.
“Does it look like I’m going anywhere?” she asked.
“Ma’am, are you aware there is a curfew in effect?”
“I’m trying to get home, that’s all. Why are you guys out here?”
“The president has ordered anyone violating the curfew to be detained.”
“When did that happen?” she asked.
“The order came through thirty minutes ago.”
“Well, I was on my bike thirty minutes ago. How was I supposed to know? Look, I’m just trying to get home to my kids, all right?”
The other airman gave her a skeptical look. “You live here in Great Falls?”
“What does it matter if I do?” She thought there probably weren’t that many African-Americans living in town, but there would be a few. “Come on, let me through. My kids are scared to death with all this stuff going on. They need me. I’m sure you can understand that.”
The short one hesitated. “Can we see your ID, ma’am?”
She made a show of reaching into her jacket, and then, in a fake panic, padding her other pockets. “Dammit!”
“Ma’am?”
“I don’t have it.”
“You don’t have it?”
“No,” she said.
The tall one with the rifle raised it a few inches.
“Jesus,” she said. “Just because I don’t have it with me doesn’t mean you have to shoot me! I left it at my friend’s place in Concord. I forgot it, that’s all.”
Neither man said anything.
“Look, you want to drive me to my house so I can prove to you who I am?” she asked. “There’s nothing I’d like more than a warm ride at this point. I’m freezing my ass off.”
A few more tense seconds passed, then the two men huddled together for a moment. Finally, the first one said, “I’m sorry. We can’t do that, ma’am.”
“So, what? I stand here and we stare at each other? I gotta see my kids! Come on. Please!”
He studied her for a moment. “What’s your name?”
“Megan Adams,” she said, using the name of someone back at the Ranch.
“All right, Ms. Adams, we’re going to let you go home. But head straight there and stay inside. You get caught out again, you’ll be arrested. No questions asked.”
“Thank you,” she said.
The two men moved one of the barricades out of the way so that she could walk her bike through. The look on the taller one’s face made it clear he didn’t trust her, and that if he’d been in charge she wouldn’t have gotten off so easily.
“Thank you,” she said again as she hopped on her bike.
Within minutes, the town of Great Falls started appearing through the falling snow, streetlights at first, then strings of colored Christmas lights outlining a few of the homes.
She stopped under the awning of a gas station and pulled out her cell phone. To find a surgeon, she needed to find a hospital. A quick search told her the major medical center in town was Benefis Hospital. She navigated to their website, and tapped on the “Find a Doctor” tab. She was given the choice of looking for a physician by name, specialty, or keyword. Chloe found “General Surgery” under specialties and selected it. Nine names appeared, some with pictures, some not. All the doctors with photos appeared to be between thirty-five and fifty. If this had been a big-city hospital, she would have expected stern, serious poses, but the surgeons of Benefis looked friendly and approachable.
She flexed her fingers, fighting off the cold, and considered her options. Approaching someone at the hospital would be difficult at best. The facility would undoubtedly be one of the few places in town where people were still working, and, given her experience with the roadblock, there was a good chance that more airmen had been assigned to guard it. Better if she could find a doctor at home.