A Chief Warrant Officer was sitting at the desk when he entered.
“Staff Sargent Roundhouse reporting as ordered,” he told the Warrant Officer.
“Hang on a minute,” the Warrant said and picked up the phone.
“Commander, Staff Sargent Roundhouse is reporting as directed. Yes sir, yes sir. Very well sir,” he said and hung up the phone.
“Follow me,” he said and started down the hall.
“Do you have any idea why I’m here?” Roundhouse asked in a low voice.
“The Commanding Officer seldom takes me into his confidence Sargent,” was all he said.
They arrived at the Commanding Officer's office and the Warrant Officer knocked on the door.
“Come.”
The Warrant Officer opened the door and gestured for him to enter.
“Sir, Staff Sargent Roundhouse reporting as ordered, sir.”
The Commanding Officer, Colonel Burns, finished writing before he placed his pen down on the desk and looked out at the Sargent standing at attention.
“At ease Sargent, take a chair.”
That took Roundhouse by surprise. He didn’t know exactly why but he was expecting to get chewed out over something he must have done.
“Sargent, you have been selected for a highly classified mission. In a moment, two gentlemen from a special government agency will be in to discuss the mission with you. I have reviewed the records of at least fifty men and I have selected you for this assignment. Of course you will have the opportunity to turn it down after they have briefed you.”
Roundhouse wiggled uncomfortably. Like turning it down was really an option. It would be the end of his military career and he knew it.
“Sir, can you give me any information about what they are wanting from me?”
“Only that it is of the highest national security. It has a certain amount of risk involved but it is not exceptionally dangerous. The risk is calculated, I guess would be a better way of saying it,” the Colonel told him.
“Yes sir, I see sir.”
“Sargent, I will give you one word of advice. Think carefully before you make your decision. Don’t let them pressure you into a decision right on the spot. You need to think it through carefully,” he warned him.
“Yes sir, thank you sir.”
“Then I will have them come in. I will not be present for the meeting,” he said standing and picking up his hat from his spotless desk.
The Sargent jumped to his feet as well.
“Sit. They will be in shortly. Just remember what I said and good luck,” the Colonel said.
CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE
CTV NEWS — Governor Alan McClain announced that they were going to set up special facilities around the state to accommodate those infected with the Ebola virus. He announced that the facilities would be divided into two separate sections.
“Governor McClain explained that one part of the facility would be used for those that are known to have the disease and the purpose would be to make then as comfortable as possible.”
When asked what the other part of the internment camp would be used for he lashed out at the reporter. “This is a medical facility. This is not an internment camp. I resent the implication.”
He went on to explain that the other side of the facility would be for those who may have been exposed. They will be tested and placed under observation until their condition is determined.
Asked if they this is a voluntary program he replied “of course, this is not a police state.” McClain went on to explain that they were asking for anyone that had been associated with a known infected person to report to the facility to determine their status. “We are doing this in hopes of stopping the spread of this deadly virus. By early detection, we may be able to save thousands if not millions of lives.”
“What a crock.” a young man said sitting in a bar drinking a beer.
“Why do you say that,” the man two stools down asked, sipping on a glass of bourbon.
“I was one of the construction workers at this facility the younger one said, using his finger to indicate quotation marks.
“So?”
“Well, you ever see a facility that had razor wire around it and guards patrolling around it 24/7? Does that sound like this so called medical facility? They have bunkbeds, three tall and ten to a room with one common bathroom,” he told the guy, draining the last of his beer.
“You’re saying it’s more like a prison? They can't leave if they want to?”
“From what I was told, if you are suspected of being infected you will be sent there to determine if you really are. If not, yeah, they let you go. If you are, you are there until you die.”
“Hell, they can’t do that. That’s like putting a man in jail because he knew someone that might have committed a crime,” the older man replied.
“My boss said that this was just the first. It’s an experiment to see how it goes. If it is successful they intend to have then all around the state.”
“But you have to report right. I mean you don’t have to go and tell them. It's voluntary, right?”
“Initially. If this virus continues to spread they are thinking about offering a reward program for people to turn in others that they suspect are infected.”
“Son, you don’t really believe that do you? I mean this is America not Nazi Germany. We ain’t gonna shove people in cattle cars and haul them off to these medical facilities like they did,” the older man said.
The young construction worker shrugged.
“It’s hard to tell what the government may do when they are scared. Who knows where all this will stop,” he said and laid a five dollar bill on the bar top.
On his way out he stopped by the older man and said, “If I was you, I’d just make sure I didn’t make any enemies. You never know where all of this is going to lead.”
“But this is America,” he mumbled at the retreating back of the young man.
Jane Meeks was a tenacious young reporter just getting started. Many of her coworkers had already decided that they didn’t like her very much. It's not that she wasn't hardworking or that she felt every story had to be attacked like there was no tomorrow. It was more or less the way she made them feel when she asked questions.
Every time she would ask a coworker about anything, it was more like she was accusing them. It made people uneasy. She was considered abrupt and lacking in social skills. At one point several of her colleagues approached the editor about her behavior.
When he was finished speaking with her about her lack of people skills he felt that she was the one who had been in charge.
“Meeks. Line three,” someone yelled across the room.
“Jane Meeks, Herald Times.”
“Ms. Meeks. I may have something you would be interested in,” a male voice said on the other end.
“Who is this?” she asked abruptly.
“That isn’t important just now. What is important is whether or not you are interested.”
“Look. You have to do better than that. I have no idea whether we are interested or not without more information.”
“It concerns the Governor’s medical facility.”
“What about it? He made the announcement a week ago. That’s pretty old news.”
“Have you seen the facility?”
“No. Just the pictures that they distributed. Why?”
“Do you know where it is?”
“Not really. Look, what are you saying? That something else is going on?” she demanded.
“Hello. Hello? What the…” she said and hung up the phone.