President Glass couldn’t stop crying. Tears rolled down her makeup like beads of rain across the surface of a waxed limousine. The president’s bedroom was deep underground, and she felt as if she was living in a cave at the center of the Earth. It was her personal hiding spot, similar to the closet that a child might retreat to when afraid. And like that child, President Glass was deeply afraid.
Her worst fears had materialized. The country had died. The world had died. Her husband had died. Her daughter was missing and presumed dead after her helicopter reportedly crashed. Nothing remained for President Glass. She didn’t know why she had been spared. She didn’t want to be spared. Not now. Not in the lonely hell that remained.
A small chirp sounded from the secure phone on her nightstand. Conventional phone service had been lost all across the country, but engineers had managed to wire up the emergency operations center in Bluemont, Virginia, to satellite communications.
She rolled over and put the pillow over her head.
The phone sounded again.
She wanted to ignore it. Answering it meant making decisions, and that was something she felt utterly incapable of doing. If she had her way, they would just let her wither away like flowers on a grave.
The phone continued to ring.
She sighed and picked it up.
“What?”
“Madam President, are you feeling better?” The voice was that of Lincoln Pike, her newly appointed vice president. The elected vice president had died from the virus two weeks ago. As the Speaker of the House, Lincoln had all but insisted that he be appointed vice president. With few other options available, she had finally acquiesced.
“I’m sleeping. What do you want, Lincoln?”
“I think we should meet.”
“Why?”
“There are matters to attend to, Madam President. Serious matters.”
She wanted to argue the point, but she knew he was right. The country needed leadership now more than ever. Unfortunately, she was not up to being that leader.
“Fine,” she said. “When?”
“Tomorrow. I’ve already arranged a flight.”
“Tomorrow isn’t good.”
He hesitated, choosing his words carefully. When he finally spoke, his voice was soft and warm.
“Allow me to help you, Madam President.”
She wiped tears from her eyes and swallowed hard. Lincoln cared about her in the way a lion cared about a wounded gazelle. She considered refusing to see him. But then what? He would be relentless until he got his way.
“Fine. Tomorrow at noon.” She hung up the phone and fell back into bed.
There was a strong knock at Vice President Pike’s door.
“Enter.”
The door opened and General Hood stepped inside. With his perfectly pressed uniform, cluster of commendation medals, and spit-shined shoes, he looked every part the professional soldier.
“Have a seat, General.”
“I prefer to stand.”
The vice president smiled. He liked General Hood. He was smart, ruthless, and most important, trustworthy.
“What did you find out?”
“The girl was not at the crash site.”
The vice president pushed his chair back from the desk.
“How’s that possible?”
“It appears that she survived and fled the scene.”
“With who? Surely not alone.”
“Unknown, sir. There appears to have been a firefight. Four men dead.”
“Killed with military weapons?”
“No, sir. Three were killed with a shotgun. One was beaten to death.”
“That sounds more like a street fight, probably involving some of the miscreants that the president felt compelled to release from our penal institutions.”
“It would seem so.”
“You know, whoever grabbed her might just solve this problem for us.”
“I prefer to clean up my own messes.”
The vice president nodded.
“I assume you’re actively looking for her.”
“Yes, sir. We have two helicopters in the area. A small ground contingent is also en route, but they won’t arrive for some time.”
“Do you think she’ll try to make contact with friendly forces?”
“Assuming that she’s able, that would be a logical course of action.”
“Find her before that happens.”
“Yes, sir.”
“The man I have leading this effort can be trusted implicitly. He will do exactly as we instruct. You should also use only your most trusted people. There can be no leaks on this, General.”
“While I would trust the soldiers with my life in combat, this mission is unconventional. Some may have to be expunged when the operation is complete.”
“Expunged?”
“Yes, sir.”
The vice president nodded again.
“We do what we must to save this struggling nation.”
“Indeed,” said General Hood. “I do wonder, however, if it might be prudent to inform the president of the girl’s possible survival.”
“Why?” The vice president’s eyes narrowed with suspicion.
“If we get to the girl first, then the plan remains unchanged. However, if she turns up elsewhere, such a report might help to deflect suspicion.”
“Ah, yes, I see your point. The problem is that, if the president even suspects that the girl is alive, she will use every possible resource to find her. We can’t have that. Certainly not now when we’re so close.”
“Understood.”
“For now, let’s allow her to assume the worst. It helps to keep her weak and ineffective, and that’s the only way we can save this nation from the coming evil.”
The tray of food looked like something from a hospital cafeteria. President Glass picked at a blob of green gelatin as if it was an alien life form. As a child, she had always liked Jell-O. In her current state, however, she saw it as a food perversion that was hard to look at, let alone eat. A knock sounded on her office door.
“Enter,” she said with as much authority as she could muster.
Vice President Pike entered. He nodded and offered a smile.
“Madam President.”
She looked down at the food before finally pushing it aside.
“Lincoln.”
“Thank you for agreeing to see me. I know you must be very busy.”
She squinted at him. Was he digging at her? Of course he was.
“Yes, I am. So, let’s make it quick.”
“Yes, of course,” he said, sliding out a chair. “Right to the point, then. Madam President, we have a very important decision to make.”
“And that is?”
“As you know, the virus claimed about ninety-five percent of our population. Of the roughly twenty million people remaining, it’s estimated that nearly five million were exposed to the virus, but subsequently survived.”
She closed her eyes, wondering how her own family could be counted in the dead.
“I’m familiar with the numbers. What are you getting at?”
“Madam President, it may be even worse than we thought.”
She fought back tears.
“Nothing could be worse.”
He slid his chair a little closer.
“Ma’am, I’ve been told by several CDC scientists that they are seeing an unexpected side effect of the virus. One that could threaten the remaining population.”
“What kind of side effect?”
“They describe it as acute delusional paranoia.”
“Paranoia? Like believing people are out to get them?”
“Yes, but it’s very specific. Those affected seem to target their paranoia toward people who were not exposed to the virus.”
“They probably just feel like outcasts, that’s all. Have you seen what the virus has done to these poor souls? Besides, how could a virus cause paranoia?”
“It appears that Superpox-99 in
troduces chemical changes in the brain. Those changes cause the person to feel overwhelming paranoia. It continues to deepen over time, until they eventually lose touch with reality.”
She shook her head. “Even if that’s true, it doesn’t necessarily threaten the population. You’re reaching here, Lincoln.”
“I’m sorry, ma’am. I’m not making myself clear. In time, the paranoia leads to horrible violent tendencies. Those who are most strongly affected become consumed with an overwhelming desire to kill.”
“Let me get this straight. You’re saying that the people who survived the virus are going to try to murder the people who weren’t infected?”
“Yes ma’am, it appears so. Not all at once, of course. Each person reacts differently, but on the whole, it’s … well, it’s quite serious. Before long, we’ll have a nation that is heavily infested with crazies, for lack of a better term.”
President Glass closed her eyes and sighed.
“Can’t we administer some form of cure for this madness?”
“No, ma’am. There aren’t enough resources left to develop such a medicine, assuming that it could even be made.”
“So, what then? We just let what’s left of our country be overrun by millions of violent, mentally deranged … whatever the hell they are?”
The vice president moved even closer, hoping to circumvent any microphones that might be in the room.
“We will need to take action to prevent this.”
“And what do you propose?” She didn’t see where he was going but was certain she wasn’t going to like it.
“I think we need to sort our population into those who were infected and those who were not. That way, we can keep them apart from one another, at least until we can develop a treatment for this disorder.”
President Glass looked at him as if he had just grown antenna.
“You’re proposing we set up internment camps?”
“I wasn’t planning on using that term. But to be blunt, yes, ma’am, that’s exactly what I’m proposing.”
“To what end? What if we don’t find a cure to the paranoia? What then? Do we keep millions of Americans in camps until they die? What about their children? Are they suspect, too? Where does this end, Lincoln?”
He sat back in his chair, considering her words.
“I see your point, Madam President.”
She smiled, finally feeling that she had gotten the better of a man she despised, if for no other reason than for his unshaken confidence.
“Yes, yes, you’re absolutely right,” he continued. “I see it now. The internment camps would never work.”
“Thank you,” she said. “I’m glad that—”
“There really is only one solution.”
“And what’s that?”
“We have to finish what the virus couldn’t.”
Chapter 11