Colonel Vickers stepped around the crowd of people who were trying to get to the new chief of staff and the president. His report took precedence over anything these people might have to say. He paused and stared at the line of people and shook his long face. Standing on his tiptoes, he caught the attention of the lone secret service agent and raised his brows. The man nodded and bent to whisper something in the president’s ear. The man nodded and the secret service agent waved Vickers on. Between the colonel and agent, the crowd was forced apart and Vickers waded through until he was within swinging distance of the leader of the free world, even if it was in name only.
After having abandoned Washington D.C. and the White House, the government had fallen back and tried to settle in at the Cheyenne Mountain Complex. Being underground in a nuclear bunker seemed like a good idea, considering it had redundant systems for nearly everything. At least until the doors were sealed from the inside and support personnel began turning. Those who survived the evacuation of Washington barely survived the evacuation from Cheyenne Mountain. Air support was called in that helped clear the evac route, but many were lost in the action. Eventually, it was decided to temporarily set up on the aircraft carrier, the USS Ronald Reagan. With support ships keeping a tight formation, and more ships joining the flotilla almost daily, the largest virus free nation in the world was actually a flotilla of American warships.
Vickers had been forced to move the majority of his personnel from site to site to try to keep ahead of the mobs of infected. Eventually, it was decided to move them all out to a medical frigate and have them set up shop where the infected couldn’t run them from their research and they could actually accomplish something. But the results of their research had steadily grown worse with each move, and the reason why had just recently been discovered. He really wasn’t looking forward to the briefing he was about to make.
He found himself being escorted to the president’s new office, previously the commanding officer’s office. With the government being set up upon a naval vessel, the ship’s new call sign had been designated Navy One. Not something that went over well with a lot of the sailors aboard the proud ship, but it was felt that if nothing else, appearances had to be maintained.
Vickers stood until the tall man invited him to take a seat. “Colonel, please tell me we have some good news for a change.” President Walters leaned forward, his face hopeful.
Vickers met his gaze but his face betrayed him. “I’m afraid not, sir.” He pulled a brief from his satchel and set it on the man’s desk. “I had my people double and triple check the data.”
President James Herbert Walters was an ex-military man before he made his name in business. He knew numbers, but he didn’t know science. He’d never minced his words when speaking with his staff before, and he wasn’t about to start now. “Will I be able to understand this?” He reached for the report and flipped open the worn manila folder.
“It’s a little dry, Jim, but it’s in layman’s terms.” Vickers stood and stepped over to the bar. “You mind?”
President Walter’s shook his head. “Pour me one as well. We may as well enjoy it while we still have some.” He perused the file and eventually came to the summary. “So if I’m reading this right, the virus has mutated?”
“Well, yes and no.” Vickers handed the man his drink and took his seat again. “The samples we use in the lab have somehow mutated, but the fresh stuff we’re getting out in the field…”
“What?”
Vickers took a long pull from his drink then cradled his glass. “Well, sir, to be honest, it’s hard to tell.”
Walter closed the file and placed it on the corner of his desk. “What’s the bottom line, Bill?”
Vickers cleared his throat and met the man’s gaze. “We need to find the source and see if we can get the original virus if we’re ever going to have a hope of finding an effective anti-viral.”
The president stared at the man for a long period. “You mean we have to fly somebody back to Yellowstone and scoop up some of the goo?”
Vickers cleared his throat and bounced his head back and forth. “It’s not really that simple, sir.”
“Then please, explain it to me.” Walters picked up his drink and took a long swallow.
“With the virus having been made airborne, and the activity that is still coming out of Yellowstone, we need to send somebody in on the ground. We can’t approach from the air.”
“Why the hell not? Send them in wearing those chicken suits, scoop up the goo, and bring them back.” Walters’ face was twisted in confusion.
“Sir, if the virus in the air has mutated, sending in a chopper will mix it all up. Contaminate the ground source as well. We won’t get a good sample.”
“For the love of…” Walters sat back and pinched the bridge of his nose as he thought. “So we can use a chopper to get them close, right?”
“Within twenty clicks. Anything closer than that runs the risk of—”
“Yeah, I got ya.” The president stood and stretched his neck. “Do we have any spec op boys available to make this run?”
Vickers lowered his eyes and rattled the ice in his drink. “We need a trained scientist to collect the samples, sir.”
Walters sighed heavily and dropped his head. “Of course we do.” He stepped back to his chair and all but fell into it ungracefully. “Let me guess. LaRue wants to be the one?”
Vickers shook his
