The ammo box lay on the floor next to an open Plexiglas container. A ring of armed soldiers surrounded it, their rifles aimed directly at the padlocked lid. Just in case.
Garrett asked the question that was surely in the minds of everyone in the clean room at that moment: “How the hell do we get it out of there?”
He didn’t particularly want to be anywhere near the ammo box when the lid was removed, and he was pretty sure even the guys with the rifles felt exactly the same way.
“Sergeant, is that box airtight?” Carolyn asked.
Without taking his eyes off his sights, the soldier answered, “No, ma’am. Not completely.”
“Then we’ll gas the little bastard right in the box.” She turned to Josh Ewing. “Josh, get the guest room ready for our little friend, will you?”
“Yes, ma’am. Will do.” Josh stepped to a touch pad at the far end of the clean room, pressed some numbers, and stepped back as the wall slid up into the ceiling, revealing a hidden chamber.
It was a simple room: white walls, a stainless steel toilet in the corner right below a stainless steel sink. What looked like a hospital bed sat in the middle of the room, with enough space around it to handle all the medical equipment you would find in a normal hospital. The entire space was behind a thick wall of Plexiglas.
To Garrett, it looked like what you’d find in a prison infirmary. Or a psychiatric ward. “Guest room, Carolyn?” he asked.
“That’s what we call it. It’s a confinement chamber. Used for treating people who’ve been infected — or exposed — to something we don’t understand yet.”
“Doesn’t look like you’ve ‘treated’ too many people in it.”
“We’ve never used it. Never had to.”
Garrett was surprised to see part of the inner wall slide away and see Josh Ewing step inside — he hadn’t seen him open a second door right next to the sliding wall. The entrance, obviously.
“If that thing gets out, is the door strong enough to hold it?”
“I hope so,” Carolyn said.
“You hope so?”
“Look, genius, we can either put the box in that room and gas it, or you can walk over there and open the ammo box yourself and try to put our little friend in an examination box, just like his dead buddies. Your choice.”
“I think I like the room idea a little better.”
“I thought you would.” She turned toward the general. “Sir, how are they going to deploy the soman?”
“The Russians weren’t very complex in their delivery methods. The stuff is in a bomb — small explosive charge splits the casing at a preset altitude. A rainmaker.”
“Concentration?”
“Depends. Delivery radius — depending on the specific weapon — can extend from a few hundred yards to almost half a mile. The concentration will be heavier toward the center of the radius, diminishing as you move away. Most of what we’ve kept in ready-use status is the smaller-radius variety. There’s still a few of the bigger weapons, but not many.”
“They’ll be air-dropping it?”
“Yes. We’ve got a couple hundred of the bombs ready to use.”
She quickly changed her plan. “We’ll have to get the thing out of the ammo box. If the creatures in the field are going to have this stuff rain down on them, then I want to expose this little bastard to it the same way.”
“That’s not going to be easy.” After speaking those six words, Garrett knew he was now in the running for the Most Obvious Statement Ever Said award.
“I can do it.” One of the soldiers with his weapon trained on the box spoke. “I can shoot the lock off. The thing will get out on its own.”
General Rammes glanced at the lock on the ammo box — it was a typical US Army — issue combination lock. Nothing too substantial, and from the looks of it, about ready to fail. A well-placed round would probably do the trick. “Okay, trooper. You get the shot. If you miss, or if you hit the thing inside, I’ll—”
“You won’t have to, General. If I miss, I’ll give you one of my stripes myself. I don’t miss.”
“Hooah.”
“Hooah, sir.”
“Carolyn, how long do you need to get the room ready?”
“Just a few minutes, General. They can take the box inside the room now.”
“You heard the lady. Move!”
The armed men slung their rifles over their shoulders — as best as they could, considering they were wearing the same protective suits as everyone else — and reached for the box.
The sound was immediate.
Garrett and Carolyn froze in place. The sound was one they’d heard before. In Kansas City. The same chattering and clicking. It was an evil sound.
The soldiers hesitated for a moment, and then, as one, picked the box up and carried it toward the containment room entrance. They placed the ammo box on top of the hospital bed and left the room, making sure the lock was directly toward the small inner entrance door so their partner could have a clean shot.
Carolyn moved to a control panel on the other side of the containment room’s transparent Plexiglas wall and started entering commands on a small drop-down keyboard. Garrett stood beside her. He could see the hospital bed bounce with every violent movement of the creature in the steel box, still desperate to get out and take a big, juicy bite out of whoever had put it in there.
Without having to be asked, Carolyn explained what she was doing. “We can control almost any variable in this room. Temperature, humidity, light, airflow — any environmental variable we want to introduce can be entered here.”
“Can you make it snow?”
“It’s good, but not that good.”
Two technicians carried a long, silver canister over to a receptacle in the wall just a few feet away. With a push of a button, the canister slid into the wall. Small locks snapped into place.
“Is that the soman?”
“That’s the soman. Enough to kill every man, woman, and child in the city of Los Angeles. If it’s delivered properly.”
Garrett had been exposed to some pretty humbling weapons in his time, but nothing like this. He was amazed how a beautiful young woman like Carolyn could work in close proximity to such incredible evil and still be so alive inside. “Are you going to use that much?”
“No. It’ll only take a small amount to duplicate what the creatures will actually be exposed to.”
“Sorry. I’m new to all this.”
“It’s okay. I wish I didn’t know so much about it myself.”
But you have to, Garrett thought to himself. We all have to know things we wish we didn’t have to these days.
It was a sad thought.
The America he’d grown up in had changed in so many ways. America was no longer a peaceful place, where people could chase after their dreams, raise a family without fear, and if they were lucky, enjoy the simpler things in life. Now, people had to think about survival. Twenty-four hours a day. They had to think about what they’d do if a terrorist attack occurred in their city — or small town — and how they would react. They had to wonder whether or not today would be the day that a mushroom cloud would rise into the sky. Maybe, they’d be lucky enough to have just time to squeeze their child’s hand a little tighter. One last time.
It was a different world.
And it was why he had joined the United States Army.
Turning the other cheek had been tried for decades, and it had failed. The enemies lurking in the shadows had taken the time provided them by well-intentioned — yet incredibly naïve — politicians and used it to prepare. To plan. And finally, to act.
Thousands had died in the war on terrorism. America had grown different. Harder, not happier.