Steve walked to a table where he’d set up his information lab. A follower sat at each of his three laptops, calling up websites, blogs, newscasts, anything that would give him the big picture.
The U.S. government had written off Manhattan. Minneapolis, too, by the looks of things, and — just a few hours earlier — Chicago. Paris was a memory. The British had barricaded London: no one in, no one out. That strategy hadn’t worked in Chicago, and wasn’t going to work there, either.
No info out of China. None at all. That was fine, because Steve could give a shit about China. He’d been born in America, and that was where he’d be crowned emperor.
The U.S. government had yet to pull the plug on the Internet. With several of the major networks down and more soon to follow — CNN showed nothing but color bars, ABC’s feed was a constant hiss of static — the government needed the Internet to spread information to the uninfected: go here to be safe; stay away from these areas; here is your testing center; this place has inoculations available.
And, of course, monitoring the Internet was the government’s main way to track down those large groups of Converted. Steve didn’t mind that at all — anyone who could organize such a group was an eventual rival for power. If someone removed Steve’s rivals for him? All the better.
He heard a cell phone buzz. Brownstone answered it, then held it out to him.
“Your uncle Sven,” she said.
Uncle Sven was one of her names for the scouts who were hunting for higher-powered weapons. Pistols and shotguns just weren’t enough.
Steve took the phone. “What is it?”
“It’s Sven,” said the voice on the other end — a bad attempt to sound panicked, but close enough. “I found out where Nate Grissom is, he’s in town.”
The scouts had found an armory. The “N.G.” of “Nate Grissom” stood for “National Guard.” A simple code, but with the country in a tailspin, no government analyst was going to figure it out — if anyone was even listening at all.
“Awesomesauce,” Steve said. “Do you think you can take my cousins and go get him?”
“Yeah,” the voice said. “I got inside info.”
Inside info: that meant the scout’s group included someone who had served at that facility.
“Okay,” Steve said. “Then go get Nate.”
Steve hung up. It was the third such call he’d received in the last hour. By morning, General Brownstone would be overseeing the distribution of military weapons.
THERE’S BAD NEWS, AND BAD NEWS
The wind had picked up, the fire had died down. The hotel lobby was colder than ever.
Cooper Mitchell lined up the bottom of the fire extinguisher, then jammed it down on the door handle. The metal clinked but didn’t break.
He looked around, seeing if anyone or anything reacted. He remained alone except for the sick people lying around the fire.
He waited a few more seconds, just to be sure, then lifted the extinguisher again.
Clink, the door handle bent.
He drove the fire extinguisher down a third time: the handle ripped free and clattered against the floor. He slid his cold fingers into the hole, found the latch mechanism and pulled it sideways — he pushed the door open.
Inside was a tiny office, various calendars and work regulation posters tacked to the walls, just one overstuffed desk with a chair tucked under it. On that desk, various family pictures…
…and one black laptop, flipped open and waiting.
The screen was dark.
Cooper pushed the door shut behind him. The tiny room was much like the space behind the Walgreens counter. He thought of his last few moments with Sofia.
But she’ll be with you forever now won’t she because you ate her and you’re digesting her and she’ll be part of your muscles and part of your bones forever and ever and ever…
Cooper shook his head, tried to clear his thoughts.
A phone on the desk: he grabbed the handset, heard nothing. The line was dead.
He sat down in the desk chair. He was almost afraid to touch the computer. If it didn’t turn on, he was out of options — he’d have to risk leaving on foot, all by himself against a city of cannibals.
Cooper tapped the space bar. The computer screen remained black for a moment, then flared to life.
Oh shit, it’s working it’s working…
He searched for a web browser icon. He found one, clicked it. The computer made small whirring noises. The Google home page flared to life. News, he needed news.
He called up cnn.com. The website’s familiar red banner and white-lettered logo appeared. Below that, pictures of horror, of death, of a country on fire. Glowing headlines showed city names that read like a list of tourist attractions if you didn’t count the words next to them, words like ablaze, destruction, thousands dead…
New York City.
London.
Minneapolis.
Berlin.
Philadelphia.
Boston.
Paris.
Miami.
Baltimore.
And, of course, Chicago.
“It’s everywhere,” he said. “Everywhere.”
He clicked for additional news on Chicago. More stories appeared. All roads and highways had been blocked off, sometimes by trenches or collapsed overpasses, more often by miles of burned-out cars.
Cooper finally understood why the military hadn’t come in to save Chicago… because the military had instead blockaded Chicago. At least that’s what the news said. The military wasn’t letting anyone in or out. The story said troops were preparing to reenter the city and take it by force: until then, all citizens were warned to remain inside, to not answer the door for anyone, not even family. Stay off the phones, don’t overwhelm the cellular networks.
He nodded rapidly, yes, yes they were coming in, he just had to stay alive a little while longer…
And then he noticed the story’s date. It was from yesterday. He started clicking through links, found that the entire site hadn’t been updated in the last twenty hours.
Could CNN actually be down? The whole thing?
Cooper tried the Yahoo home page; it came up instantly with a huge, red headline:
CHICAGO: ABANDONED
“No,” he said. He read the story, each word a crushing blow to his soul. “This can’t be fucking happening.”
The U.S. government had written off Chicago. No troops were coming in. Troops weren’t even surrounding the city anymore… too much territory to cover. Those forces had been moved to protect cities that had not yet been overrun.
He couldn’t be alone here, trapped with madmen and monsters.
Cooper kept searching, kept clicking, hitting the track pad so hard the desk vibrated. After five minutes of panicked reading, a story caught his eye:
(Reuters) — Anonymous sources out of Washington, D.C., are reporting that the government is developing a biological weapon that will target the “Converted” who are raging across the country and are responsible for thousands of deaths worldwide.