Outside the inner-contamination zone, the next rings were a stop and detain quarantine, and atmosphere sniffers had been deployed. If the biological material that had been found free-floating in the house had become airborne, and crossed into the next outer ring, then it to would be classed as a red zone and the ring perimeters would geometrically broaden as appropriate, with the same evacuation, isolation, and burn protocols in place.
So far so good, but the bottom line was they contained it in the first three rings. And if, god forbid, there was a significant breakout, then…
Hammerson didn’t want to think about the then. It was what every military man dreaded — seeing some form of weapon of mass destruction deployed on home soil.
There were over 23,000 people in Greenbelt. From the inner ring, they’d evacuated 900 of a potential 1,200 residents that were on record as living in there. That meant within a few hours, the infection had spread and claimed three hundred souls. Though some of these were brutally killed and cannibalized by things that were once people, but now were about as far from human as was physiologically possible. One of them took seven slugs to the chest before it turned and fled, not being scared off, but only pushed back.
The rest of the missing people seemed to have been turned into piles of sludge. He didn’t know which was worse.
No, fuck it, that’d be worse.
His secure phone lit up with an incoming call. He already knew who it would be. He gritted his teeth as he lifted it.
“Hammerson.”
“Jack.”
Yep — General Marcus Chilton.
“You’ve contained the outbreak?” Chilton’s voice was basement deep.
“We think so, sir. But we have the Airforce on standby… just in case,” he said slowly.
“Bad business.” Chilton sounded tense. “My reports say we’ve got infected civilians being converted into monsters?”
Hammerson cleared his throat. “The first responder, police officer Cleveland Bennings, was infected and converted. We captured him and several others, and euthanized them with chlorine gas. We’re performing autopsies now, and we’ll know more soon, sir. We should just be thankful the shuttle didn’t crash in downtown New York, or it’d be game over,” Hammerson said.
“Small mercies,” Chilton added. “How infectious is it?”
“Bad news is one hundred percent of entities coming into contact with it will be changed in some way,” Hammerson replied.
“There’s good news?” Chilton’s voice lifted.
“The good news is the Orlando came down in a low-temperature, remote geography that has the contagion self-contained… for now.”
“And high-intensity heat totally destroys it?” Chilton asked.
“Yes, sir. Nothing remains.”
“Good, because in just a few hours we lost a good chunk of American neighborhood.” Chilton growled. “This biological contaminant must be eradicated, full stop.” Chilton’s voice rose in timbre. “It takes heat, then we’ll goddamn bring the heat. We need to hit the source.”
“Agreed,” Hammerson said. “We cleanse the Orlando site as soon as our team is out.”
“Jack, I know it’s your people up there.” Chilton sounded weary. “And I know what they were trying to recover — it was my damn order. But frankly, I don’t give a shit about missile-silo data anymore. I know you’ve seen the science team’s extrapolation on what happens if it does get out into a high-density urban area.”
Hammerson closed his eyes. He’d seen the theoretical time line. It was aggressive, and it would all be over in a matter of months — an extinction event for all life on the planet.
“Yes, Jack, I’ve also read the report.” Chilton seemed to growl. “A new form of life would rise from the ashes to rule; a form of life far more monstrous than anything that existed now. Jack, the one advantage, the only advantage, we have right now is time.”
“Sir, we…” Hammerson got to his feet.
Chilton cut across him. “Colonel, I’ve seen the Sabers data, and I know you have too.”
Hammerson looked at his computer screen. It showed the Saber satellite image of the crater top, and how the mist was rising closer to the jagged, rocky brim. There was no getting around it, that atmosphere bubble and its airborne spore-loaded environment were growing geometrically, and soon it would spill out of the mountaintop basin.
Chilton’s voice dropped a few octaves. “While it’s inside that rim it’s containable. But that crater cannot be allowed to spill over. If that shit gets into the global atmosphere, or anywhere that’s warm, then it’ll be the end. You will not let that happen, soldier. Am I clear?”
Jack Hammerson knew he was right. “Yes, sir. Crystal, sir.”
“The wound must be and will be cauterized, Jack. I’ve already authorized a drop. You will coordinate it. In six hours, I want nothing left on that mountaintop but ash. Sorry Colonel; the greater good, you know that.”
“Yes, sir.” Hammerson sat down, his mind already working frantically on options.
CHAPTER 27
Alex had gathered everyone together, and the HAWCs had their guns trained on the closing barrier of primordial fog. Alex stood side-on, trying to see through the murk and also trying to find the Russians.
“Where’ve they gone?” Sam asked.
“They’re out there somewhere. I can feel it,” Alex responded.
Monroe quickly glanced down at his wrist monitor. “Movement, boss. Multiple signatures. Going around us but staying just out of sight.”
“The Russians?” Casey asked over her shoulder.
“No, Morg, and out of our sight, but I’m betting not out of theirs,” Alex said. He couldn’t see them, but he could sense them — big bodies, moving silently. He didn’t need to see them to know what they were.
He half turned to Monroe. “How many?”
“Three, maybe four,” the young HAWC said, looking from his monitor to the mist.
Sam stood alongside Alex. “We’re too exposed here — we need cover.” He pointed. “I can hear them now.” He pointed with the muzzle of his gun this time. “Concentrating over there.”
“They’re trying to herd us away from the Orlando,” Alex said. “Morag said they disarmed Erikson before taking her.”
“She dead?” Casey turned.
Alex nodded. “These things don’t take prisoners.”
Casey bristled. “Neither do I, you fucking sons of bitches.”
Sam grunted. “I don’t like it. Out here, they have the advantage. We need time to plan our next move.”
Alex knew he was right. “HAWCs, we are leaving. Cover to the Orlando.”
The HAWCs formed up in two lines, weapons pointed outwards, and the civilians on the inside.
“What about the Russians?” Casey frowned.
“We got bigger problems.” Alex gripped his RG3. “Dial it up, let’s make some space, people — setting three.” Alex and his HAWCs moved the size of their projectile darts up to a dime-sized plug.
“On my order,” Alex yelled.
“HUA!”
“Fire!” Alex roared the word, and the HAWCs responded.
The surrounding brume billowed and whirled as the darts blasted outwards at a rate of hundreds per second. There was the sound of strikes out in the gloom, but no one was sure whether any of it was hitting the Morg, or one of the numerous tree-like blobs that seemed to be springing up everywhere.