“But the bio-hazards suits sir — the plague?” the sergeant persisted.
“If it is the Bubonic Plague, and that’s a big if, then it’ll already be too late for us,” he said. This caused a ripple of murmuring amongst the troops, then he returned to scanning the screens. “There. Stop the tape. Goddamnit, it’s her!” He pointed at the frozen image of Sophie.
He watched intently as the soldier at the controls, tracked Sophie’s image across the various screens on her journey into the inner sanctum of the President’s compound, right into his bedroom.
“Jesus H. Christ, how did this happen? She’s just waltzed right through each security check! She’s the terrorist from the hospital. We sent her image to every military base and installation, including this one to be on the lookout for her.” He thumped his fist down on the table.
“Spool through the tapes let’s see if we can find her. She can’t have gotten away, she’s—”
The sergeant bounced nervously on the balls of his feet. “Erm, General, I think she may have a vehicle.”
The general did not hear and continued. “We’ll guard all exits and—”
“General,” he said louder. “I think she has transport.”
Jack Malloy fixed him with a steely stare. “Go on?”
“Well, our, erm, our jeep is missing.”
02:30 AM
Even though nearly midnight, the heat inside the stadium was almost unbearable, Luke's clothes stuck to him with sweat. He couldn’t imagine what the heat was like for the soldiers inside their hazmat suits. He hoped it would be torturous, as this would help him with his escape-plan.
A buzz went around the stadium as part of the crowd made an escape bid en masse, and Luke knew the distraction would aid his escape. It was now or never. He nodded to Winnie, and she immediately writhed in agony upon her towel. Jake waved to the nearest guard, who waddled slowly over in his ponderous hazmat suit, who in turn beckoned to another guard.
Luke told them. “She’s turned black in the last hour.”
A look passed between the guards, which Luke expected, as the troops had not changed their routine since they had arrived. The soldiers awkwardly bent over, to heft the woman up, and braced themselves, because of her weight, slipping their rifles over their shoulders, to get a better grip, when Luke and Jake leapt into action and snatched a rifle from each of the startled soldiers.
CHAPTER 18
Outside the stadium Luke struggled within the confines of his stolen hazmat suit, he’d had trouble adjusting to the breathing apparatus initially, and the heat combined with the weight of Winnie, were causing him great difficulty. He staggered as he lugged her weight with Jake’s help. He grunted and groaned as they carried Winnie between them. They made it to the outside where a guard directed them to the back of the circular stadium. Luke could see an orange glow from the rear of the Marlin Park and as he rounded the curve of the stadium he was astounded to see a massive funeral pyre. He was glad he wore the hazmat suit grateful for the breathing apparatus. He could only imagine what the stench of roasting human flesh was like.
He waited while the soldiers in front of him swung their plague victim onto the fiery mound. Much to Luke’s horror the man was still alive, and writhed in agony in the burning flames as his flesh melted upon him. He attempted to crawl from the pyre, but the flames beat him back and he rolled over with a blood-curdling scream and died.
The soldiers laughed and mimicked the victim’s limb-flailing, agonized death-throes. Luke hated them instantly. He placed Winnie gently on the ground and Kung Fu kicked one of the giggling soldiers in the back and sent him head-first into the funeral pyre. The soldier flapped and screamed. His colleague rushed to help and rolled him onto the ground to extinguish the flames, which gave Luke, Winnie and Jake a chance to slip away undetected.
Amongst all the chaos and the coming and going of military vehicles, they kept their cool, and strolled from the parking lot to freedom. When they were some distance from the stadium they calculated that they had a better chance of staying free if they were to split up, they said hasty goodbyes and slipped away into the night.
The wash of the rotor blades of a heavy Huey helicopter blew waste paper around Luke. He glanced up and watched as the chopper dropped its cargo into the stadium and almost immediately heard the screams of the refugees and noticed the yellow vapor cloud emerge from the arena.
He tried to tune out the wails of the dying, “Gas…” he muttered to himself. “The final solution.”
03:00 AM
Sophie headed southward on the I-95 in the stolen army jeep, passing swiftly through Boca Raton, and Pompano Beach, back the way she had come assuming her pursuers would automatically have expected her to flee northwards away from the danger. Her journey was unhindered, but she knew she would not be able to get past the roadblock. She tried to think ahead, and thought of the jeep’s 4 X 4 all terrain driving ability and thought it better to journey around the unmade roads through the northern end of the Seminole’s reservation.
She turned off the freeway and doused her lights, slowing the engine and using moonlight to guide her on the surface streets, until she found the northern entrance to the Native-American reservation. She switched on her sidelights giving her some illumination, until she felt far enough away from the freeway and screened by the thickening forest, for a random army patrol to spot her, where she reverted to main beam.
The further she drove into the forest the more potholes she hit, and although the jeep could take them, she had to slow considerably. The jeep bounced over the compacted ruts. The lack of rain and the present heat wave had concentrated the mud into hard, uneven ridges. She navigated the dirt roads, little more than tracks, hardly ever used by the Seminole, but once shown to her by a tribal leader, when out there on her monthly visit. She remembered the pleasant tour around the extremities of the reservation. She thought it most beautiful, left in its natural state the way it had been for a hundred years. Not like the consumer park, designated for the tourists, who would flock in their droves to the ‘show’ reservation to buy trinkets, such as tomahawks, tribal headdresses and mini totem poles. The tourists watched the re-enactments of the Native American way of life, and of course the number one attraction, an ‘Indian Brave’ wrestling with an alligator. Although frowned upon lately as cruel to the gator, even if it was only a baby, well cared for, and practically a pet, they always over-fed it before a show to make sure it would be catatonic.
These days the tourists demanded more than the Disney version of the Native-American way of life. The reservation moved with the times, and due to a quirk in the law, was able to offer bingo, and even a full-blown casino for the more adventurous. She entered the main arena and recalled seeing the dead and dying sprawled around. When was that? Had it only been yesterday? She thought back to the bodies littered about like the aftermath of a nuclear war, with buzzards pecking at their fleshy parts, the eyes evidently a distinct favorite.
She shuddered inwardly, and tried to concentrate on looking for the track out of the encampment onto interstate 75. She drove from the arena and back onto another dirt road, through the over-hanging mangrove trees. She counted on the military patrols to be checking the northbound streets. She skirted around the deep bear-pit and continued southward, changed down a gear and popped out onto the interstate 75, which ran east to west.
She felt home free, she’d stick to the surface roads and back streets, and would be home in her condominium within twenty minutes. She sighed with relief, when all of a sudden she was lit up from behind by a fast approaching military vehicle.