— LL
What in the world? Mark wondered. The PCC… The man named Bruce had mentioned them as part of the people behind the virus attack. Or had that been the PFC-the Post-Flares Coalition? Maybe the former was a division of the latter. Headquartered somewhere in Alaska. He kept digging.
A few minutes later, he found a series of correspondence spliced together into one file that almost made his heart stop. The icy chills from before turned into a cold sweat.
Post-Flares Coalition Memorandum
Date 217.11.28, Time 21:46
TO: All board members
FROM: Chancellor John Michael
RE: Population concerns
The report presented to us today, copies of which were sent to all members of the coalition, certainly left no room for doubt as to the problems that face this already crippled world. I am certain that all of you, like me, went to your shelters in stunned silence. It is my hope that the harsh reality described in this report is now clear enough that we can begin talking about solutions.
The problem is simple: the world has too many people and not enough resources.
We have scheduled our next meeting for a week from tomorrow. I expect all members to come prepared to present a solution, no matter how extraordinary it seems. You may be familiar with an old business saying, “think outside the box.” I believe it is time we do just that.
I look forward to hearing your ideas.
To: John Michael
From: Katie McVoy
Subject: Potential
John,
I looked into the matter we discussed over dinner last night. AMRIID barely survived the flares, but they’re confident that the underground containment system for the most dangerous viruses, bacteria and biological weapons didn’t fail.
It took some wrangling, but I got the information we need. I’ve looked through it and come up with a recommendation. All the potential solutions are far too unpredictable to be usable. Except one.
It’s a virus. It attacks the brain and shuts it down, painlessly. It acts quickly and decisively. The virus was designed to slowly weaken in infection rate as it spreads from host to host. It will be perfect for our needs, especially considering how severely limited travel has become. It could work, John. And as awful as it seems, I believe it could work efficiently.
I’ll send over the details. Let me know your thoughts.
— Katie
To: Katie McVoy
From: John Michael
Subject: RE: Potential
Katie,
I need your help preparing my full proposal for the virus release presentation. We need to focus on how a controlled kill is the only way to save lives. Though it will make survival possible for only a select portion of our population, unless we take extreme measures, we face the eventual extinction of the human race.
You and I both know how hypothetical this solution is. But we’ve run the simulations a thousand times and I just can’t see any alternative. If we don’t do this, the world will run out of resources. I firmly believe it is the most ethical decision-the risk of race extinction justifies the elimination of a few. My mind is made up. Now it’s a matter of convincing the others on the board.
Let’s meet at my quarters, 1700. Everything has to be worded perfectly, so prepare yourself for a long night.
Until then,
John
Post-Flares Coalition Memorandum
Date 219.2.12, Time 19:32
TO: All board members
FROM: Chancellor John Michael
SUBJECT: EO Draft
Please give me your thoughts on the following draft. The final order will go out tomorrow.
Executive Order #13 of the Post-Flares Coalition, by recommendation of the Population Control Committee, to be considered TOP-SECRET, of the highest priority, on penalty of capital punishment.
We the Coalition hereby grant the PCC express permission to fully implement their PC Initiative #1 as presented in full and attached below. We the Coalition take full responsibility for this action and will monitor developments and offer assistance to the fullest extent of our resources. The virus will be released in the locations recommended by the PCC and agreed upon by the Coalition. Armed forces will be stationed to ensure that the process ensues in as orderly a manner as possible.
EO #13, PCI #1, is hereby ratified. Begin immediately.
Mark had to shut down the device for a minute. There was a rushing sound in his ears and his face burned with heat. His head throbbed.
Everything Mark had witnessed in the last week had been sanctioned by the acting government of the flare- inflicted world. It hadn’t been terrorists or the work of madmen. It had been approved and executed with the intent of controlling the population. Of wiping out entire areas, leaving more resources for those who lived.
Mark’s entire body shook with anger, intensified by the madness growing inside him. He sat in complete darkness, staring into a black void, but spots swam before his eyes. Spots that formed into shapes. Streaks of fire that made him think of sun flares. People’s faces, screaming for help. Virus-laced darts shrieking through the air, thunking into necks and arms and shoulders. He began to worry at the things he saw dancing before him, wondered if this revelation had been the final push that sent him over the cliff of insanity.
He shook, and sweat covered his skin. He began to cry; then he screamed as loud as he could. An avalanche of rage like he’d never known before crashed through him. He heard a loud crack. It had come from his lap.
He looked down but couldn’t see anything. His attempt to power up the workpad proved worthless. He felt around beside him until he found the flashlight, then flicked it on. The workpad’s screen had been destroyed, the entire flat panel of the device bent at a weird angle. In his anger, he’d broken the stupid thing. He never would have thought he had the strength.
Somehow he formed a coherent thought in the madness that pounded through his skull. He knew what they had to do, and that it was their last and only shot. If the people at the bunker were going to Ashville to face whoever gave them their orders, then Mark and his friends were going, too. Getting inside the walled city was the only way Mark could think to find the people who’d issued the kill order. He could only hope they had a way to stop the sickness. He wanted to be made better.
Asheville. That was where they had to go. Just like that thug Bruce had said during his speech in the auditorium. Except Mark wanted to beat them to it.
He stood up, feeling a little woozy from the images that had been swirling in his vision. The anger pulsed through him as if it, instead of blood, thumped out of his heart and through his veins, but even as he stood, he could feel himself calming. He shined the flashlight once again on the cracked workpad, then tossed the device to the other side of the room. It landed with a clatter. He hoped that someday he’d have a chance to tell this PCC what he thought of their decision.
Pain lanced through his skull, and a sudden wave of exhaustion washed over him, a heavy, dragging thing that was like a two-ton blanket draped over his shoulders. He dropped to his knees, then slumped onto his side, his head resting on the cold floor. There was so much to do. No time for sleeping. But he was so, so tired…
For once, he dreamed of something pleasant.
