“Hah! No way, Dave. ... Wait a sec — you’re serious?”
“You bet your damn rights I’m serious,” said the bedridden president.
“But Dave, I'd—”
“Now hang on, Davies. Let me speak.” First the president turned to Winston. “Winnie, help me sit up a bit.”
The young aide sprang into action, propping the president up in his bed. The president was in a lot of pain and it took some effort to get him into more of a sitting position.
It was shocking. The big man had always been vigorous and ageless. A bull of a man. Not like Theodore ... And now Dave barely managed to sit up on his own. All Theodore could do was stand at the far end of the bed, uncomfortably shuffling from foot to foot while the young aide fussed over his idol, pulling and tugging Dave into a sitting position.
Without knowing it, Theodore’s expression had turned sad. He knew all about the loss of dignity and was witnessing it happening to his leader and friend. And there was nothing he could do ...
Maybe the president saw the emotions flicker on his friend’s face. David Clarkston’s reaction was to steel himself. Consequently, the fierceness of old returned to his voice when he spoke next. “You think I’m giving you this because you’re an old buddy of mine? Well, think again, Davies. I’m throwing you face-first into a shitstorm. You won’t be thanking me for this appointment. And before you argue with me, let me tell you that, yes, I do think you are qualified for the job.”
He forestalled any protest that was building by lifting his hand.
“There is more, Davies. You see, we’ve been set up. Some people out there — they did this on purpose,” David Clarkston stated angrily. “And I think they are among us. Right here. In this very bunker. Truth is, Davies, I don’t know who I can trust. Except you, of course.
“So, you got a big job to do, Davies. Remember what I told you a couple of days ago: The bubbleheads could be the ace up our sleeve — if we hear from them again. In the meantime, you need to find out who is responsible for this. Find out who the rats are in this bunker. By God’s will, you will make them pay!” At that, he made a fist and punched the bed.
A lot more was said in that conversation, but that was the gist of it. That was the mission.
Oh, and save as many people as possible. Theodore recalled, drawn back to the present and his own small but functional office.
The “trust no one” message had been very clear. There were some that Theodore could trust, though. The president had had a security detail of over twenty agents, but only eight of those men were still alive, and six were hardly in better shape than their leader. One of the remaining two men was somewhere outside Theodore’s door, keeping vigilant watch over his new charge. The other one was on a mission.
And Winston could be trusted. The kid had wept unconsolably when Dave died.
Some of the remaining folks were quite upset that Theodore had been put in charge. There was General Andersen for one. The general was harmless enough; just a pompous dickhead who didn’t like it that Theodore got the “General of the Army” designation from the president. Somehow, they had found the five-star badge and it now sat pinned on Theodore’s chest.
And then there was Senator Williams... He had practically raged against the idea and plainly stated that it should be him taking over the reins. He was supported in this by the other two senators present in the bunker. Although Maddison and Sykes were little more than bootlickers, in Theodore’s opinion.
Theodore ran his fingers over his new badge, feeling the stars with his fingertips. The badge wasn’t large, but it weighed on him like an anvil.
Things would have been different, had any members of the House of Representatives been alive. They would have had the power to pick a president.
Ah, shoulda woulda coulda. Get on with the job, Davies.
That’s what Dave would say, anyway. Theodore could picture the president now, the big man standing in front of his desk, arms folded and an ugly scowl of disapproval on his face.
With a hint of a smile, Theodore reached for the first report.
The smile was quickly replaced by his more customary frown when he started reading.
FIRST WAS THE AFTER-action report.
Operation Deliverance. What a pretentious name. Theodore often wondered who the prick was that came up with these grandiose operation names. Operation Deliverance was an attempt to undo the damage from Operation Liberation.
Theodore thought back to the beginning. When everybody was still confident they could beat this thing.
He had to admit that the setting up of safe zones had gone exceptionally well. Too bad nobody truly knew how to identify infected people. Somebody had come up with a theory and everybody had latched onto it in desperation, wanting most of all to look like they knew what they were doing.
And after the first few days, things started to look good. The safe zones were filling up nicely. But the infrastructure started to get bogged down.
With both the living and the dead.
Operation Liberation was their knee-jerk reaction. “Get our country under control!” was the rallying cry. So, most of the armed forces were re-deployed outside of the safe zones.
He shook his head ruefully. He’d argued against it but was overruled by Andersen and several others, including Clarkston. That had stung. Especially the way they had treated him. With kid gloves. Like he was fragile.
Sick? Yes. Fragile? Fuck, no.
Only when it was practically too late did they change their minds. And so the soldiers’ strings were pulled once again, in the complete opposite direction. To execute Operation Deliverance.
Too little, too late.
Deliverance’s objective was to secure as many safe zones as possible. To save as many healthy individuals as they could. The operation was comprehensive, involving just about every able-bodied military
