“Enough, Hyuk,” Kasra said. She turned back to Administrator Kim. The color had drained from his cheeks and he was sweating. It gave him the look of a waxed fruit that had been left too long in the desert sun. “Do you see what I’m working with?”
He tried unsuccessfully to smile. “Y-yes.”
The groans behind her were annoying. “Shut up, Hamid. Hyuk, put him back in his chair.”
The bodyguard slipped a meaty palm under each of the Facilitator’s armpits and lifted him up. The man struggled weakly against the giant who was easily three times his size, if not more. Hyuk deposited him unceremoniously into the chair and shoved it into place at the table.
“There. All better.” Once more, she turned to the Administrator. “Where is your Supreme Leader?” She allowed as much sarcasm into her voice as possible.
“He is on his way, Ms. Amol,” Kim replied. “It is twenty-four kilometers from the Ryongsong Residence to our location. Your arrival was unexpected. Rest assured, he will be here soon.”
“I grow bored of this. Hamid, what is—Hamid?”
She snapped her fingers in front of the Facilitator’s chin. He was slumped in his chair, moaning softly as blood poured from his nose onto his stomach. “Oh, really, Hamid. It wasn’t that bad. I’ve made Hyuk hit me many times. It’s invigorating.”
He responded with a sob. Pathetic.
“Very well,” Kasra sighed. “Administrator Kim, why don’t you tell me about the vaccine? I want to know if there is a cure for the Cursed or is what you’ve developed a measure to stop the infection from occurring?”
“There is no cure for the infection once it has taken hold of the subject’s brain, Ms. Amol. Their minds are forever changed, little better than animals. But my scientists have been able to recreate the blocking agents that Sanjay was working on when he was murdered in Texas.”
Sanjay. That was a name she hadn’t heard in a while, probably since she killed Nampoo Yi. That reminded her…what ever happened to his family? Were they still locked away somewhere, chained to the bed he’d kept them on, or had they been able to slip free of the restraints once they became skinny enough from starvation? Oh well, she thought. They were of little concern to her. They were insignificant. Nothing.
“This means we can vaccinate our troops in America against the infection, correct?”
“Yes, madam.”
“Good. The activities of the Cursed keep them at bay and every action must be thoroughly planned because of the threat they pose. If we could remove that threat, then we’d be able to finally wipe out the pockets of resistance that are a thorn in our side.”
“That is the plan, yes.”
Hamid groaned beside her. “Yes? Do you have something to add?” she asked, perturbed at his continued interruptions.
“No… I—”
An alarm began to thrum across the base. “What is that?” Kasra demanded.
“Uh… I do not know!” Kim admitted. His hands gripped the arms of his chair tightly.
Seon’s hand went to his ear and he nodded. “We need to leave, madam. Now.”
“What is it?”
“Tehran destroyed. Missiles inbound toward Pyongyang now.”
Kasra did not hesitate. She leapt to her feet and ran behind Seon as he jogged down the corridor, shoving small Korean soldiers out of the way who dared to interfere with their escape.
“How was Tehran destroyed?” she demanded as they ran.
“Unknown, madam,” Seon replied. “It happened in an instant. Only a few cities and military bases remain. They radioed your pilots immediately, per protocol.”
“Hurry!” Kasra hissed as they emerged into the blistering cold. Two hundred meters from the building, the engines on her jet were already sending waves of heat skyward. Her heels clacked uselessly against the tarmac and she felt herself lifted into the air by Hyuk as he picked up speed. The two men closed the distance to her jet effortlessly.
“Kasra!” Hamid Abdullah Sari screamed from the building’s exit. “Take me with you!” She watched over Hyuk’s shoulder as the Facilitator limped toward the plane, favoring his right leg as he held tightly to his ribcage with bruised and bloodied hands.
Hyuk surged up the stairs into the jet. Once inside, the crew began turning the plane for takeoff. With the stairs scraping along the concrete, the stewardess struggled to operate the lift controls while the jet was in motion. Finally, the door lifted away from the ground and fell into place as they lined up on the runway.
“Go! Go!” Kasra heard someone yelling from the cockpit.
Out her window, she saw Hamid limp further toward the tarmac and the wing passed rapidly over his head. Then he was gone as the plane lifted into the night. Her mind raced. She needed to take charge of the situation and learn what was happening.
“Where are we going?” she demanded.
“Away from here!” the pilot screeched. “Nuclear missiles are inbound. Tehran was hit a few minutes ago.”
“Phone,” she said, holding out her hand to Seon.
He produced a satellite phone from inside his jacket and handed it to her. Kasra tried several numbers, none of which worked. She felt the plane increase speed beneath her as the pilots pushed the jet engines as fast as they would go.
To Hyuk, she said, “Go find out where these idiots are going.”
The ground sped by faster than she’d ever seen before. How fast were they going? she wondered. Did pushing the jet so hard burn more fuel? That set off another string of questions in her mind, specifically, had they refueled and how far could they make it on the fuel they did have?
Shouts of anger drifted back from the cockpit. “Oh, for
