A pause at the other end of the line. “Theories?”
“Nothing yet, sir,” Grierson said. “We believe they’re leaving the Kansas City area behind. As soon as we can, we’ll drop teams back into the city to try to ascertain a point of origin, or find evidence of a cause. Hopefully they’ll discover something actionable.”
“I’ve ordered the CDC and Vanguard to examine the bodies, Mr. President,” Allison added, “as soon as we’re able to get our hands on some. CDC will do an initial analysis, and we’ll fly them to Dugway and let General Rammes’s team take a closer look.” Allison noticed the questioning look from Admiral Grierson and realized — a little too late — he wasn’t read-in to the Vanguard program. Well, he is now, she figured.
“Perfect. Thank you, Allison.”
The relationship between president and vice president changed from administration to administration, the nature of it depending heavily on the personalities involved, as well as on the political promises made on the campaign trail to appease all those who would hopefully cast their vote for the winning team. Some VPs served their tenures as nothing but figureheads, and others wielded their own power outside of the Oval Office, but in this administration, the relationship was much like a commanding officer and his or her second in command. Allison Perez was second in command of the good ship United States of America and would take the helm if and when required. Allison would be no political figurehead — that much Andrew had made perfectly clear when he’d offered her the job. Professionally, they saw eye to eye, as a good commander and his second should. Their personal relationship was close. Not romantic in any sense, but both knew they would stand back-to-back and fight off the hordes together, if it came to that.
After Kate died, Allison filled a role as a sounding board and a shoulder to cry on when the press corps was nowhere near. There were times, in the months following Kate’s death, when Allison knew that if she so wished, she could take their relationship to another level, but she chose not to.
Allison had married young and thought she’d found the man who’d stand next to her forever. The demands of being married to a Coast Guard pilot, however, turned out to be more than he’d signed on for, and in time, the marriage simply faded away.
She wasn’t lonely by any means — she didn’t have time to dwell on such things — but there were times she wished she could’ve done things differently.
But to Allison, wishing was nothing more than an excuse for poor planning. The past is the past, and nothing can change it. The future is what one makes it. And the present — today — is the most important of all. Right now, he was the president, and she his vice. As long as they were both in office, she knew that’s how their relationship would stay. To allow it to progress to something more — even though she’d considered it — would be unprofessional, and she doubted Andrew would allow it, either.
She knew him, though, probably better than any other member of his staff. She could tell his mood by the tone of his voice, by the look in his eyes. She could read him.
And right now, she needed to speak to him in private. Something in his voice…
“Admiral, I need the room, please.”
“Yes, ma’am,” Grierson said. He stood and exited the room without question.
CHAPTER 17
Ever since the hideous radiological attack unleashed in Cleveland had murdered thousands of innocents, the American public had practiced citywide evacuations. What was once considered an obsolete, feel-good civil defense program — good for nothing more than making the public feel like there actually was an orderly way to get out of the way of hundreds of Soviet nuclear weapons that would soon be dropping on their heads — had been transformed by the urgent necessity of national survival into an actual, functioning program. The Department of Homeland Security had provided every major city with an evacuation plan designed to cover a number of possibilities, portions of which were practiced once a month.
Cleveland had been an example of mass public panic. People tried to run, to get as far away from the spreading cloud of invisible death as they could, and hundreds had died in the process. The entire nation had watched as it happened. Watched as the highways clogged and ground to a standstill. Watched as people had dropped dead, choking and spitting blood, clawing their eyes from their sockets. Watched mothers and children die leaning against their cars, hopelessly stranded in the sea of automobiles lining the highways for as far as the eye could see, while the dirty cloud spread. The sobering fact that more people had died trying to get away from the area than had died the instant the devices had exploded around the city had been a wake-up call. People had watched. And knew that next time, it could very well be them.
Six months ago, the entire city of Chicago had been evacuated. There were problems, but not on the scale some had expected. The exercise had gone surprisingly well.
But it had taken three days.
It was just an exercise. People knew it wasn’t real.
Hugo knew there were going to be problems. The major cities — New York, Chicago, Los Angeles, Denver, San Francisco, most of the larger metro areas — were much more prepared than the smaller cities, as they were more lucrative targets. At least they were before this night. Right now, there were six other cities he wished had had more time to prepare. The entire country knew about Kansas City — and when the sirens sounded, people wouldn’t react like it was an exercise. They would panic.
He prayed most could be saved.
Minutes after Hugo had stepped from the situation room, the sirens began wailing in Topeka. Five minutes later, in Des Moines. Then, in Omaha. St. Louis. Wichita. Springfield was last.
A mass exodus began.
The things entered Topeka forty-five minutes later. There were no soldiers there to delay their approach. There hadn’t been enough time.
The hideous sound of demons feeding filled the Kansas night.
CHAPTER 18
Carolyn pressed herself against the interior wall of the Chinook’s cargo area, hugging her knees tightly against her chest with two trembling arms. The rear hatch of the big chopper was still open, and the cold night air swirled around her, making every inch of exposed skin feel like ice. She was shivering uncontrollably, not only from the cold, but also from the absolute terror of what she’d just witnessed.
She could tell they weren’t flying very high, as the lights from what little population there was in this part of Kansas farm country slid below them, the rapid thwap thwap thwap of the dual rotor blades propelling them forward. Toward where, she didn’t know. And didn’t much care.
The three remaining members of her team — also cold and frightened — were huddled together on the other side of the chopper’s large interior. As far as she could tell in the dark, there were also about ten soldiers in the cargo area, the ones lucky enough to get away. They sat quietly, rifles between their knees, eyes looking straight ahead at nothing in particular. Carolyn knew their thoughts must be with their fellow soldiers — their brothers and sisters in arms — those who’d been left behind.
To fight.
To die.
The thought of all those people being killed by those things made her stomach turn. The yellow eyes — hundreds, thousands of pairs of pinpoint evil, bounding across the tarmac in the darkness. What she’d seen couldn’t be real. It couldn’t have happened! But she knew it had happened. And more than that, she knew she was one of the lucky ones. If she’d fallen instead of Matt… She shivered as she remembered his head ripped from his body as easily as a grape plucked from a stem. She remembered the crew chief… His eyes, as he was pulled from the open ramp. Whatever those things were, they were very, very real.