Epilogue

A throng of bearded zombies, in sad-colored garments and gray, steeple-crowned hats, intermixed with women, some wearing hoods, and others bareheaded, was assembled in front of a wooden edifice, the door of which was heavily timbered with oak, and studded with iron spikes.

Rob was tired; it was a long flight, a flight where no one slept a wink. He personally thought they would fall out of the air. It was a 737 commercial liner. It, along with the whole Denver airport, had been acquired as part of the ARC plan. Or what was left of the plan, as the spread of the virus had shattered most all of the fail-safes that had been put into place. He wasn’t sure if the president was alive or any of the federal government for that matter. All coordination had been coming from a state level, limited at best.

Their plane had touched down at Spokane Airport, the place looking over-crowded with larger planes packed up on taxiways. While the airport was able to handle the larger 747 and Airbus planes, it wasn’t really setup to handle the incredible volume that had been landing in Spokane. And with no planes leaving it was starting to look like a used car lot.

Not able to taxi to the gate, Rob and the other CDC crewmembers had to disembark and walk from the taxiway to the airport. Here at ground level he was able to really see just how large the planes were, as they lumbered over the concrete, leaving them to walk in shadow.

Here in the warm fall of Eastern Washington, it was calm, peaceful, in the most frightening way. He knew how broken the rest of the world was and Washington sat gloating with its natural defenses. They trudged up steel steps and into the crowded terminal. The place still had power, and the air was conditioned many degrees cooler than the outside air. The TVs were still on, but with nothing to broadcast they flicked blue, casting everything in a pale shade of normal.

A tall lady came forward, with long red hair. She was a bit older and in her power suit, Rob would say she lumbered about, beating the people around her over the head with her self-importance. Behind her a thinner pale man followed mopping sweat from his brow, the governor of Oregon. “Hello, Governors,” Rob said trying to keep the complete distain from his voice. He dropped his duffle bag onto the floor.

“Don’t give me that,” Del said not even bothering with any pretense at being polite. She stared at him, standing eye to eye. “I was just fine staying in Olympia along with the rest of my staff. I do not appreciate having to follow this plan, seeing how flawed it’s been.”

“The plan is working fine.” He rubbed his temple, a nervous tick he’d started doing every time someone questioned him now.

“Was the plan to leave the United States in shambles and abandon the whole of the west coast too?”

“No, it’s people like you, not following ARC and thinking they know better causing leaks and allowing the virus to compromise our defenses!” He almost poked her in the chest, but stopped himself last second, noticing the large chest. She looked ready to give him another earful before he cut in, “Where is Doctor Irons? He and his medical staff need to meet with my people.”

“He and the Umatilla base haven’t checked in. There’s talk it’s been lost.” Now she was looking smug. “How about that ARC plan now? You ready to call it quits on that goddamn plan from the nineteen fifies?” she shouted.

“Lost?” He could feel his knees start to go weak and it wasn’t from the fact he hadn’t eaten anything in days. “When was the last time they checked in?”

Del sighed. “Four hours ago?” she added grudgingly. “Radar has picked up one craft though. It left from the military airport and has been headed north.”

Rob grasped at this little piece of hope, trying to keep it from slipping through his fingers. Doctor Irons was his last hope at finding a cure, or at least an antidote. “That has to be him, have you raised him on the radio?”

“We did try,” her expression glowering dark once more. “The only thing we heard were barks.”

“Barks? Like a dog?”

“No, like a loud tree,” she said snidely. “Yes, like a dog. Was it part of the ARC plan to teach dogs to fly? Because I think using pigs would have been more poetic.”

“Damn it Del! I don’t have time…” He let his words trail off as he looked out the window. There, off in the distance, a massive helicopter lumbered through the air. It was a gunboat, its wings loaded with massive rocket pods. He thought he recognized the model, but… it seemed so unlikely…

“Del?” he said, much softer. “Did you invite the Russians?”