Terror At Dawn

“Yes, sir?”

“When you examine the truck cab — no keys, right? Was it in gear or neutral? And was the parking brake set?”

The staff sergeant shut his eyes, visualizing the hellish interior once again. “Neutral, I think. And no parking brake. Not that they’d need it on that terrain.”

“Shit.” The officer stood, backing away from them. “Staff Sergeant, where are the rest of your men?”

“Probably at chow,” the staff sergeant said, now growing alarmed. “You don’t think that—?”

“I don’t know.” He grabbed his own sergeant by the arm, and they backed away until they stood at the doorway. “You understand, I’ll have to ask you not to leave this room.” With that, he left. Moments later, the staff sergeant heard the loudspeaker summoning the rest of his squad to sick bay.

Cold fear ran through his veins. It all made sense now — the odd number of men, no keys, the truck left in neutral. It hadn’t been driven there — it had been towed. And left to be discovered.

What had they been thinking? Why were they so certain that somebody would examine the damned thing before an air strike took it out? What were the odds of that? Had we been close enough to — to—

To catch it. Whatever they had, whatever they were infected with, whatever had killed them. How did they know we would be close enough to breathe the air, that we wouldn’t take precautions — that we wouldn’t be suspicious?

Biological warfare, the thing that struck terror into the hearts of most ground soldiers. If they could see it, they could kill it, and if they died trying, so be it. But this form of warfare, the invisible, deadly weapon of bacteria and spores, that was something else. You couldn’t see it — you didn’t even know when you were exposed. And once you had been exposed, there was very little you could do.

From outside the doors, he could hear the beginnings of an uproar. The receding steps on hard linoleum, the rustle of uniforms, muffled orders to clear the area. Still the staff sergeant waited, motionless. He knew the order to clear the area didn’t apply to him.

Moments later, two soldiers clad in full NBC warfare gear came into the office. They walked over to him slowly and stood beside him. No words were necessary. “Lead the way, boys,” he said, standing up. The movement made him slightly light-headed, and he felt a flash of annoyance at what he thought was fear. He rested one hand on the table to steady himself. But the blackness continued encroaching on his sight, narrowing his field of vision down to a narrow tunnel that seem to be filled by the two monstrous men. He staggered again, and after a moment’s hesitation, one of them reached out and caught him by the elbow. The other darted to a telephone and punched the numbers in with fingers made clumsy by the gloves. “We’ll need a gurney. And make sure the rest of the squad is in isolation — quarantine — immediately.”

The staff sergeant heard the words coming as though from a long distance away. A loud buzzing filled his ears, drowning out everything else. He sank slowly to the floor, then crumpled. One of the soldiers unfolded him and stretched him out on his back. The staff sergeant coughed and the soldier jerked back.

By the time the gurney arrived, the staff sergeant had long since lost consciousness. Blood was seeping from his ears and nose and other orifices, and even the whites of his eyes were turning red. He was coughing up blood, too, when he had the strength to do so, but it continued to seep into his lungs at an alarming rate. No energy, no energy to fight it off. Slowly, quietly, he suffocated in his own blood.

Two days later, infectious disease specialists at Walter Reed Army Hospital would confirm what both the intelligence officer and his sergeant had suspected. The plague — the black death. And by that time, more than one hundred soldiers had been exposed to the deadly disease.

The United Nations

New York, New York

1300 local (GMT -5)

Wexler’s voice, amplified by the microphone, rang out confident and sure. “I must ask this body to renew its long-standing resolution providing for a United Nations peacekeeping force in the Middle East. As to the justification, I think recent events provide more than enough. As you all know, our aircraft carrier, the USS United States, was attacked while in international waters outside the Persian Gulf. Fortunately, due to the efforts of her crew, the damage was minimal. Additionally, we have credible evidence of stockpiles of biochemical weapons being maintained just across the Kuwaiti border. Both of those facts reflect the continuing instability in the region and the need for coordinated supervision to maintain law and order.”

“Any response?” the Secretary General was from the Bahamas, and his musical accent provided a sharp contrast to her strident tones.

The delegate from Pakistan rose, pointedly turning away from Wexler and the American contingent. “Uh-oh,” Brad whispered to her. “I think we’re about to see some payback.”

“No kidding,” she murmured, keeping a neutral expression plastered on her face. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw the British ambassador stir uneasily.

Any opposition to the motion to extend the peacekeeping forces would be absolutely ludicrous. Pakistan was far closer to the region than the United States was, and if open warfare broke out, it would surely suffer just as much as anyone in the region. It was in Pakistan’s interest to keep peace in the area, and she thought it was something that at least Pakistan and India could agree on.

“The ambassador from Pakistan,” the Secretary General acknowledged.

“Pakistan wishes to add the following amendment to the bill as presented. As a matter of background, all the delegates are aware that the Middle East is not the only powerful region of the world currently in turmoil.”

“Uh-oh,” Brad murmured again. “I didn’t believe he had the balls to do it, but he sure looks like he’s going to try.”

“Foremost among the troubled regions of the world today is the United States. As we are all aware, her own law-enforcement and civilian authorities have been overwhelmed by the recent acts of terrorism. Military troops are now deployed across the nation, suppressing the very constitutional rights that they purport to uphold. The rights of freedom of assembly and freedom of speech are no more than words to the current American regime, and all dissenters are being repressed just as vigorously as those in Afghanistan were.”

Wexler responded, her voice amused. “Surely you’re not suggesting that our women are now clad in burkas.”

“I am merely pointing out that America suppresses dissidents more vigorously than almost any nation on earth. Under the circumstances, if we are to continue peacekeeping efforts in the Middle East, I would like to make a motion that a task force be deployed to the United States as well.”

“No,” Wexler said flatly. “Enough of this charade. We all know what is behind it. This didn’t work last time and it will not work now. There will be no United Nations peacekeeping force inside United States.”

The United Nations

2100 local (GMT +3)

After the ugly incident in the executive dining room, Wexler had no illusions about solidarity in support of the United States. True, Great Britain was standing by her side, and France and Italy were at least making nominal motions of support. Russia was being her usual unpredictable self, but Wexler suspected that it was more the result of being distracted by problems at home that any attempts to manipulate the situation. Most worrisome, China was silent.

China. No one knew better than she did that her personal relationship with its ambassador did not entitle her to an inside look at their foreign affairs policy. Regardless of their friendship, they were both professional diplomats, each serving the interests of their respective nations before allowing any personal considerations to intrude. Despite her understanding and resolve, at some level she was hurt.

There had been no need to discuss the matter with T’ing And indeed, they’d worked out a way of dealing with these matters between themselves, one that allowed each one to save face and avoid raising mutually disturbing issues. At times, when the issues simply became overwhelming, they avoided each other’s company until the latest crisis had passed.

In their current unspoken protocol, T’ing himself should have raised the issue. He undoubtedly knew that the United States wanted to know his country’s position on the outrageous Pakistani motion, and had he been able to comment, he would have done so. But his failure to even mention the matter led Wexler to suspect that there was more of an agenda than anyone knew. Perhaps it was another grab for the Spratley Islands. Perhaps it was the