Apache Dawn - - (classic fiction .TXT) 📗

breakdown of society. People in these cities have been cut off from fresh food and water now for a week. They have been watching their friends and relatives get so sick they can hardly move. A few have seen people die—they are one shove away from falling off a very, very high cliff. It is our job to restore order, bring safety, and pull our country back from the brink. We start by putting a stop to the damn Koreans, here and now!”

The Admiral launched into his final orders and wrapped up the briefing. Cooper found himself staring at the face of the woman, caught mid-scream on the screen as the officers around him filed out. The murmur of the crowd slowly dissipated and still, Cooper was transfixed. He saw not her face anymore, but the memories of his own experiences through the nightmare of The Great Pandemic.

An elbow lodged into his ribs painfully. Jax hissed, “Here she comes, dude.”

Brenda walked past the Admiral as he and the Commandant discussed something at the podium. She began to walk toward Cooper and his men. Despite the somber briefing, Cooper was smiling. She seemed to miss a step, blushed, and smiled back.

“Go on, Hoss, say something,” whispered Charlie.

“Seriously?” asked Cooper. “Are we back in high school or something?”

“Want me to find out if she likes you?” asked Jax, dead serious. His face split into a wide smile.

Charlie burst out laughing. The Commandant stopped his conversation with the Admiral and looked over, his face dark as a thundercloud. The Old Man walked over and said in his gruff voice, “Glad you three find the end of the friggin’ world so amusing.”

Cooper cleared his throat and regained his professional cool-as-ice composure—with a little more effort than he would’ve liked. “Sorry, sir.”

Dr. Alston had followed the Commandant over and stood behind him, peering over his shoulder at Cooper and his SEALs.

“Major,” Cooper said with a nod.

She smiled and her face lit up—in complete opposition to the Commandant’s fierce countenance. She appeared like a patch of sun burning through a ferocious thunderstorm on a humid day.

“Well, you two can get a room after we beat the Koreans, drive off the U.N., and stop the goddamn flu. Agreed?” said the Commandant. Cooper snapped to attention at the Marine’s tone—yet there was a twinkle of mischief in the Commandant’s eyes.

“Things make a lot more sense now, sir. Ivan wants to snag the Source and make a vaccine before the Korean flu can spread everywhere. So far, only the NKors are protected from it, right?” He looked at Brenda. “We don’t have anything like this meth-vaccine, right?”

She shook her head. “No. Once we get the Source, we should be able to work up some sort of serum, but…” She shrugged.

The Commandant motioned for Cooper to follow him to a large wall map of the United States. “And if the NKors are safe, you know China is, too. Most likely, China has got a better version of that little meth cocktail the NKors are using. Looks like they dope up their men before sending them over so they can walk right through us as we drop from the flu. And it’s playing hell with the rest of the country. The casualty numbers are getting jacked up because the reporting lines are unstable, but according to the last, best guess we have, we’re looking at something on the order of 35,000 fatalities, so far.”

“Remember, this is just the beginning,” said Brenda softly. “If this modified virus we’re dealing with is really trying to pull a shift like it did ten years ago…” She shook her head. “We would be looking at a Wildfire Event.”

“Good God,” muttered Cooper.

“The hell is a ‘Wildfire Event’?” whispered Jax.

“It’s what we call pandemics that get out of control, like H5N1 did…” said Brenda.

“Yeah,” said Charlie, “Kevin told me about it, once…” He shook his head sadly. “I wish I had paid more attention to him at that Christmas party last year. He kept trying to talk to me about some crazy viral research in the Netherlands or something.”

“Sir, any word about Coronado?” Cooper asked.

The Commandant frowned. “Don’t know. But Coronado’s gone. Taken out in the first wave of conventional ICBM strikes—just like most of Portland and San Fran.”

Cooper looked at Charlie. “Allie’s smart, bro, she’ll be okay. Junior, too. They’re fine.”

“How do you know?” snapped Charlie in a sudden burst of emotion. He took a deep breath, set his jaw, and nodded. “Mission first, aye, Chief.” He turned and stalked off.

“His family was in Chula Vista,” explained Cooper, finding himself with nothing else to say.

“So you said,” The Commandant replied. He watched Charlie a moment and nodded, as if coming to a conclusion. “It’s a tough time to be in uniform. Lot of us lost family and there’s not a damn thing we can do about it. If we don’t keep our heads in the game, though, we’re going to lose our entire country.”

Cooper frowned. “We’ll bring the pain, sir, I swear it. It’s what we do.”

The Commandant clapped Cooper on the shoulder. “Spoken like a true Marine.”

“You didn’t bring us all the way to Denver to recruit me, though,” said Cooper.

Admiral Bennet walked over carrying an expensive-looking leather briefcase. He motioned for the two lieutenants at his side to wait in the hallway. The SEALs snapped to attention. The Admiral gave a half-hearted salute and shook hands with the Commandant.

“Good seeing you, again, Mason. I’m heading out to Pearl tonight.”

Cooper had never met Admiral Bennet before, but his name and picture had appeared on an awful lot of orders over the years. The difference between the two service chiefs was clear. The Marine Commandant was short and solid-looking. The Admiral was tall and lanky and did not look like he could survive outside an office very long.

“No one’s recruiting you, Master Chief, but me. Don’t let this dirty old bastard get his hands on you,” said the Admiral. The Commandant chuckled politely.

Cooper shook hands with the Admiral, looked straight into the man’s eyes and was relieved to feel a firm handshake. That was the way a commander should shake hands, despite his appearance as a desk jockey.

“We’ve had some trouble with the extraction mission concerning the Source,” said the Admiral.

The Commandant nodded again. “The mission to get him is up in the air. No word on what’s going on—comms are too sketchy. Last we heard, samples of the blood we needed for a vaccine were sent up via Skyhook and were en route to research facilities set up by Barron.”

The Admiral nodded. “President Harris is going to do the same thing. Only, his plan includes reaching the scientists who made the H5N1 vaccine and get them working on it before Barron can.”

“Tag and bag. Got it,” grunted Cooper. Now they were talking his language. “Where you sending us, sir?”

“Your orders,” the Admiral said as he handed over a few sheets of onionskin. He let Cooper skim through the message. “We’re putting your team on a flight to Boston.” He pointed at the German flag on the map that was near the embattled city.

“Why Boston?” asked Cooper, folding the orders.

“Dr. Maurice Boatner is a professor of immunology and virology at Harvard. He lives in Charlestown. He’s one of two scientists alive today who developed antibody manipulation techniques for the Source’s blood, allowing for the manufacture of the stable, safe vaccine that put an end to The Great Pandemic. That makes him very valuable not only to us, but to anyone who can get their hands on him.”

The Commandant added, “We’ve known for years that Al Qaeda and ISIS have been hunting for this guy. Barron knows this and will send assets to get him. Hell, rumor has it the Russians and Germans are looking for him, too.”

Admiral Bennet nodded. “You and your men need to get to him first. Bring him back and let him make a vaccine for us. This will be lean and mean—sneak in, grab this geek, and get the hell out.”

“My Marines are protecting Denver, but I’ve dispatched an air support wing to bring in the Source and those Rangers, if they’re still alive. So that means you’re all we’ve got. Think you can do it?” asked the Commandant.

Cooper looked at the Commandant. “Absolutely.” He glanced at the map and chuckled ruefully. “Never thought I’d be doing a HALO into Beantown.”

The Commandant clapped Cooper on the back and turned to leave. “The weapons locker is all yours, son. You've got a blank check on this—you boys take what you want.” He checked his watch. “Hit the showers, grab some chow, and get your shit wired. Make it snappy though—wheels up in three hours.”

“Yes, sir,” said Cooper. “Thank you.”

“Good hunting, gentlemen,” said the Commandant of the Marines. He looked at each of the SEALs in turn before he left the room.

“Hooyah,” muttered Cooper.

“Master Chief, there’s one more thing,” said the Admiral. He reached into his briefcase and pulled out a small box. He opened the lid and turned the silk-lined display toward Cooper. Inside were a pair of gleaming silver bars.

“Sir?”

“In light of your actions during the opening days of this crisis, I am pleased to inform you of your battlefield commission to Lieutenant, junior grade. Upon your completion of this mission to Boston, you’ll be assigned to form a new team and promoted to Lieutenant. We’re going to put you in command of the surviving members of the Coronado teams.”