Amsterdam apocalypse, p.16
Amsterdam Apocalypse, page 16
“So, if you weren't given orders on how to deal with anyone entering, what were you given?”
The soldiers lowered their weapons and exchanged looks. They were kids. Both of them. Hardly even out of their teens and yet they were expected to function like experienced warriors. One of them shrugged. “We were told to hold them and call it in, sir.”
“Then do it.”
They exchanged looks again before one of them took a radio from his belt and brought it to his mouth. “Command, this is Private—”
The sound of boots rushing across asphalt interrupted his transmission. Within seconds, six more men in combat uniforms had surrounded them with aimed M4s. “Hands up! On your knees!”
Jacob obeyed, knowing that taking on one man with a rifle aimed was a lot different then taking on six.
“Bradley was going to shoot them, sarge,” the private said. “They fought back. They didn't have a choice.”
“Identify and explain yourselves,” the sergeant barked.
“Sergeant First Class Jacob Craft, sir. The woman with me is Dr. Teresa Cundiff—a colleague of Dr. Tim Staunton—and as you can see, we have an injured man.”
“This facility has been closed to the public, Sergeant Craft.”
“We don't have time for it to be closed!” Dr. Tee barked, looking up from where she was working on Deyerle, who had begun breathing again, but only just. “I need to see Dr. Staunton immediately and to get this man into surgery!”
The sergeant looked rapidly between Tee, Jacob, and the unconscious corporal. Jacob could tell he was more experienced than the three who had first confronted them, but how much more was the question. He was young. Perhaps in his mid-twenties and if he had a single deployment under his belt, Jacob would be surprised. What would he do here? Hold them and wait for a superior while they watched Deyerle die? Or make a decision and take action?
The sergeant straightened his stance and placed his weapon at low ready, the other soldiers around him doing the same. “Alright. Privates Murphy and Dudley—get a stretcher. Private Massey and Corporal Fletcher—check these people for weapons and secure their gear. The rest of you—back to your posts.”
The men moved off. Turning, the sergeant passed a long look over the hilly terrain from which Jacob's group had approached minutes earlier. Jacob could feel the apprehension coming from him. What were these soldiers doing here? Who had called them up? Was this part of the what Tee had called the Regional Recovery Plan, or something else entirely? Deyerle had mentioned martial law and this was as close to it as anything Jacob had seen within the states.
He stood as he was guided to by one of the men, who began patting him down as soon as he was on his feet. When the sergeant was satisfied that they were no longer armed and that their gear was in the proper care of his men, he said, “What happened to you guys out there?”
“Plane crash of sorts,” Jacob said.
“That was you? We saw you flying over about an hour ago but lost sight of you.”
Jacob nodded.
“Then we heard gunshots. Was that you as well?”
Jacob nodded again. “We were trying to get here but had some mechanical trouble. We had to put it down further away than we planned and drew the attention of some gang or something. That's how this happened.” He looked toward Deyerle.
“I guess this solves that mystery then.”
The two privates returned at a run, one of them pushing a stretcher in front of him. He stopped next to Deyerle and pushed the lever that lowered the gurney to the ground.
“I need everyone gathered around him,” Dr. Tee said. “We need to make this as smooth as possible.”
Soldiers and Amsterdam people alike followed her orders, each taking a hold of Deyerle. On a three count, they lifted and slid him onto the gurney. When Dr. Tee had him strapped down, the sergeant nodded and the two privates pushed him away, with Tee following closely behind. “Get him to the main facility and keep him out of sight.”
Jacob raised an eyebrow. “Keep him out of sight?”
“We've got a bit of a situation beginning at the front gate,” the sergeant said. He motioned for them to follow him as he began making his way after the stretcher toward the main hospital, which could be seen between the burned out buildings around the perimeter. Jacob and Flanary exchanged looks and fell in behind the sergeant and his men as they led the way along a labyrinth of concrete sidewalks covered by tall oak trees.
In many places, the trees had grown into the burned out buildings through the broken windows, and the grass along the sidewalks was knee high, both sure signs that the facility hadn't been adequately maintained in quite some time. But clearly, something was happening here if the National Guard had been deployed to protect the property. Jacob turned and cleared his six as they neared the main hospital, an uneasy feeling welling up from inside as he cast an eye over the darkness behind them.
Chapter Thirty
“One percent! Discontent! One percent! We'll torment!”
Standing under an archway where ambulances had once arrived at the main hospital, Jacob had to listen carefully to make out the words coming from the group of protestors who had gathered near the front gate. With dozens of trees and the burned out buildings standing between him and the front gate, he couldn't see the group, but it sounded as though there were at least a few dozen voices.
“They're getting louder. Their numbers have doubled in the last few minutes alone,” the sergeant said as he led the way into the main building. Jacob stopped and looked as the electric doors slid open. By all appearances, the power to the facility was out just like it was to the rest of the city around it. How was this possible? Jacob moved on, entering a high-ceilinged reception area lit only by the moon; its bluish glow poured through the windows high on the wall and illuminated specks of dust in the air. Maybe the doors were battery or pneumatically operated.
Unlike the outside of the property, the reception area showed no signs of disrepair. The glass-enclosed welcome desk and the administrative area beyond looked brand new, as though neither had ever been used, and the patient waiting area with its two dozen upholstered chairs, particleboard coffee tables, and fully stocked magazine racks was picture-perfect. The only signs that the facility was in use or that anyone had even entered were the sets of muddy boot prints tracking across the floor in various directions, undoubtedly evidence of the patrolling soldiers as they made their way in and out of the building during their rounds.
“This way,” the sergeant said, leading them through the waiting area to a bank of elevators. The sergeant stabbed the up button, and a set of doors opened with the chime of a bell. Jacob looked at Flanary. So the facility did have power. But how? The soldiers carrying their gear entered first; Jacob and Flanary followed, with the sergeant entering last and inserting a key into the control panel. He pressed the illuminated 4, which was the highest floor available.
The elevator car rose quietly. When it stopped, the sergeant removed the key from the control panel and a bright light stabbed the darkness as the doors opened. Jacob shielded his eyes as he looked down a long, windowless hallway, his vision adjusting to the fluorescent light. A single soldier stood beside a door, midway down.
“How does this place have electricity?”
“There's a solar panel farm on the property.”
Jacob thought back to the time before the facility had been closed. The sergeant was right. There had been a sizable amount of solar panels installed in a field at the very edge of the property. At the time, he remembered articles in the local paper about what the project had cost in comparison to the benefits it would provide, but now, with the electric grid down for the foreseeable future, that seemed shortsighted.
Walking between the sergeant and the two soldiers carrying their gear, Jacob couldn’t help but feel like a detainee. The soldier standing beside the door snapped to attention as the sergeant approached. “At ease,” the sergeant said. The soldier relaxed and turned, pushing the door open so they could enter.
The sergeant entered first and Jacob followed, casting a glance over the room. Inside was a moderately appointed office with commercial carpeting, light blue paint, and stock photography on the walls. Jacob wasn't sure, but the room looked like the office of someone fairly high ranking in whatever organization was running the hospital. A uniformed man rose from behind a faux wood desk and covered a set of blueprints by folding them in half. The sergeant and two soldiers behind him snapped to attention after closing the door.
“What the hell is going on, sergeant? Who are these men?”
Jacob recognized the insignia on the man's uniform as that of a major and knew military protocol, but he wasn't enlisted anymore. He was here as a civilian. He stood relaxed as the sergeant brought the major up to speed.
The major frowned and studied his desk for a moment. “And this injured man, he's where?”
“Downstairs, sir,” the sergeant answered. “The doctor they arrived with is trying to treat him, I believe. Privates Murphy and Dudley are with her.”
“I see.” The major cast a glance over the walls, not looking at them, but just looking away as he ran the things he'd been told through his mind. “That's all then, sergeant. Leave their things with Corporal Hundley outside the door and return to your post forthwith.”
“Yes, sir.” The sergeant turned and marched out, the two soldiers following him closely.
The major stepped around his desk and looked between Jacob and Flanary. “Which of you is in charge?”
Jacob raised his eyebrows. “That would be me, sir.”
“I know a military man when I see one and both of you have served before. Where and when?”
“Sergeant First Class Jacob Craft of the 173rd Airborne Brigade—Afghanistan, sir. Are you in command here?”
The major didn't answer. He looked at Flanary.
“Sergeant Robert Flanary—18th Assault Helicopter Company—Vietnam.”
“Very good. You both have some experience under your belts then. Now if you'd be so kind as to explain to me why you're here.”
Jacob told the major where they'd come from and why, without being any more specific than he had to about the exact location of Amsterdam and then repeated his question.
“Yes. I'm in command here. Sergeant Major John Bennett. And what you see is what bothered to show up of Company C of the 3rd Battalion of the 116th Infantry of the Virginia National Guard. One major, three sergeants, six corporals, four specialists, and nine privates. Twenty-three out of the fifty-six in our unit. So, to be honest, I'm actually glad to see you guys. I could use a few experienced warriors around here.”
“I'm afraid we're not here to stay. If this facility can spare the items we need to treat our injured people back home, we'll be on our way.”
“I don't know anything about what they can and can't spare around here, but from the sound of it, you're not going anywhere without a new vehicle and until your man downstairs is patched up. The first of those—a vehicle—I can definitely provide. The second depends on the—”
The door opened and interrupted him.
Jacob turned to see Teresa Cundiff, her clothes and hands covered in blood and her face knowingly blank.
Chapter Thirty-One
“What do you mean you can't help him here? This is a hospital, isn't it? You said this place was fully operational.” Jacob ran a hand over his face and stroked his cleanly shaven chin as he tried to take in what Dr. Tee was saying.
“I was wrong, Jacob. This place—it's—well, it's not what I thought it was.”
“Then what is it? What are you telling me? And why are they here guarding it if it's not what you said?” Jacob stared at her and pointed behind him at the major.
The major stepped forward and placed a hand on Jacob's shoulder. “Now, son—”
“Don't call me son.” Jacob turned and pushed the hand away. “I'm not your son and I'm not your subordinate. I've probably spent more time in combat than you and your men combined and killed twice as many people. So someone had better start telling me what the hell is going on here.”
The major put his hands up and backed away, though Jacob knew he was in the wrong. Regardless of experience, the major was in command of the unit and the unit was in command of the facility—for whatever reason. On top of that, they were armed and he wasn't.
Dr. Tee stepped forward and hugged him tight around the waist. “Jacob, honey, it's okay. Stay calm.”
Jacob could hear the emotion in her voice. He took a deep breath and placed a hand over her back, looking down at her as she cried into his shirt. “If you can't help him then—then—he's—”
“Going to die and there's nothing we can do about it.”
Jacob closed his eyes and fought back tears. A.J. Deyerle was more than a friend. He was a trusted captain among the residents of Amsterdam and had become a close adviser. The thought of him suddenly not being there—the thought of him dying was impossible to reconcile. Jacob pressed his tongue to the top of his mouth and focused on breathing – in through his mouth and out through his nose. It was a calming technique he'd been taught in the Army and to his amazement it seemed to work.
After a minute of heavy silence in the room, he looked at the major and spoke. “If you're not here to protect a functioning medical facility, then why are you here?”
The major frowned. Jacob heard the door open behind him but ignored it. “Why are you here?” he repeated, his tone of voice becoming forceful again.
“I'm why.”
Jacob turned. Standing in the doorway was a man in a finely tailored suit with graying hair and an American flag pin on his lapel. Jacob recognized him instantly.
“How are you, reverend?” the man said, stepping further into the room and extending a hand.
Jacob exchanged glances with the others in the room and slowly gripped the man's hand. “Scott, what are you—”
“Doing here?” They finished their handshake and the man placed his hands in the pockets of his slacks. “For all intents and purposes, as of five o'clock this morning, I'm the governor of Virginia and Roanoke is the new state capital.”
Jacob exchanged looks again with Flanary and Dr. Tee. Scott Abernathy was the two-term attorney general of Virginia and had been elected just prior to the pandemic. As a native of the Roanoke area, he was known to many of the people there, but especially to the more affluent who had once called Botetourt County—now Amsterdam—home. He and his family had attended Saint Nicolas on several occasions prior to his election and move to Richmond. Jacob had always liked the man both personally and for his stance on most political issues. If what he was implying was the case, then the mushroom cloud they'd seen nearly twenty-four hours earlier had indeed led to dire circumstances for the central part of the state. “Richmond?”
Abernathy frowned. “Gone… along with everyone and everything within a dozen-mile radius of the area. Destroyed in what we believe was an asteroid collision. The governor, the lieutenant governor, the state house—it's all gone.”
Jacob shook his head and looked at the floor. “Your family? Christine and the boys?”
“Safe, thank God. They were traveling with me. They're here now in the living quarters.”
“The power grid—it was damaged because of this impact, too?”
“No,” the major said, “that was... something else.”
“Yes, it was,” Abernathy said. “The major and I have been in communication since early this morning. All National Guard units we've been able to reach have been called up because, as far as we can tell, the nation is under attack. At five o'clock this morning not only did an asteroid strike the Earth in several places along the eastern seaboard, but a foreign government that we've yet to identify attacked us with a nuclear weapon—an electromagnetic pulse weapon, to be exact.”
Jacob exhaled. He'd known the news wouldn't be good when they finally found out what had happened, but the confirmation of some of their worst-case scenarios was still a shock. “How do you know all of this?”
“As I said, we've been in contact with anyone we were able to reach. The exact details are sketchy at best, but we've been able to put together what we believe is pretty close to an accurate scenario by pulling together information from various sources, including some folks at the Pentagon. This is the real deal—an honest-to-God attack on the United States of America. And Richmond was ground zero.”
“So… what? You’re going to set up a new government in a non-functioning hospital with a few doctors, a few farmers, two dozen guardsmen, and the pastor of a church?”
“You're rather more than the ‘pastor of a church,’ reverend. News of at least some of what you've been up to since the pandemic has reached me and no, I'm not planning on setting anything up here. My team and I were on our way to the municipal building downtown, but there's been some kind of flood and both the interstate and a significant part of downtown are inaccessible. So, we had to fall back to this place and take the round about way to get here. Unfortunately, our arrival didn't go unnoticed and now the front gates are being blocked by people accusing this facility of looking after the one percent while the rest are left to their own devices.”
Jacob remembered the protestors.
“The last of my guys arrived about thirty minutes ago. As of right now, the government of Virginia consists of six staffers and half a unit of National Guardsmen. There are other units active in other parts of the state, but at this point, communication with them is so sporadic that they're of little real use.”
Jacob remembered the black SUVs and the crash that had happened on their way to the hospital. Had it been Abernathy's people driving? They'd been wearing suits and hadn't thought twice about leaving their damaged SUV behind. If that wasn't a sign of the vehicle belonging to the taxpayers and not to them individually, Jacob wasn't sure what was. But it didn't matter. It had been an accident and wasn't worth revisiting.
