Extermination Day (5 page)

“Well, yes. When I got here, Patrick showed me the underground base. Much of what you see here today.” She waved a hand over her shoulder. “Of course we had a much smaller prototype dome at that time. But the particle collider, the one you see stretching out in the cavern, that was here and in place. Who would’ve thought that the largest particle collider ever built was located underground and kept secret all these years? Even today the scientists at CERN don’t know about it. I have no idea where they received their funding from to get this thing going, but it had to have cost billions. Multiple billions. And the scientific talent they’ve pulled in is just amazing. Of course the pay is better than anywhere else I could’ve gone. The only
drawback is that we aren’t allowed to publish anything since what we develop is strictly top secret.”

“It is incredible, isn’t it,” Jeff said, playing along. “I feel lucky just to be here.” Very true since Jeff knew full well the cost of not being there would have been his death tonight. “That must have been an exciting time for you when you arrived.”

“You wouldn’t have believed it. It was like waking up to Christmas every morning. When Dr. Chen showed me what they’d developed, I couldn’t take it all in. Not only had they been able to re-create my theories on mini black holes, but they’d even been able to develop an idea that had been in my head for years, almost like they were reading my mind. I’d always thought there must be a way to stabilize the mini black holes so they wouldn’t decay instantly and release Hawking radiation.”

“Okay, now you’re talking over my head,” Jeff said.

“You see, a
stable
mini black hole in the right containment field could theoretically bend space and time. Dr. Chen was able to design a machine that would create microscopic black holes, large and stable enough to manipulate, but not so large that they suck up the planet.” She chuckled lightly.

“Wow, amazing. And what did they start using these black holes for? Were you able to peer into other dimensions?”

Holly stared at him, one eyebrow raised, her fingers tightening on her coffee cup. Jeff had hidden away his guest badge, so she couldn’t see his security credentials, but he was obviously moving into sensitive territory with his questions.

“What part of the project did you say you were working on?” she asked.

The lady was not only smart, but shrewd. He didn’t think now was the time to pretend he was some type of engineer; Holly would probably ask him to solve a math problem and that would be the end of his ruse. He didn’t want her to stop talking; he’d gotten only a tease of what was going on, but no real answers yet.

“It’s okay, Holly,” Dr. Chen said from the door. “The congressman is just curious about what we’re doing here.”

“Congressman!” Holly said, leaning away from him. “I thought you were a project engineer.”

“I never said that,” Jeff replied, smiling. “I was just interested in you and your work.” He pushed his empty plate to the side. “I’m a congressman and a lawyer, two occupations most people hate. So when I meet someone, especially an attractive young lady like yourself, I try not to just blurt that out.” Sincerity with a touch of humor would work best here, he thought. “I just want to help out on this amazing project in any way that I can.”

Holly wasn’t buying his BS, but he tried to smooth things over anyway. Collecting friends was always good. And Holly was pretty hot too. If he was going to be trapped underground for any length of time, he could think of worse-looking women to be stuck with.

“Yeah, I’d be embarrassed too,” Holly snapped back, frowning.

Dr. Chen stepped closer. “Congressman Madison, I apologize for my rude behavior earlier. But I’ve just been informed that the president has given you full security clearance. It seems that no other elected members of the federal government can be located and are presumed dead, which leaves just you and President Paulson. I’ve been ordered to provide you with full access to this base and all the background information you need. Follow me.”

Chen still seemed angry that Jeff was there, and he definitely didn’t like be ordered to do something. Jeff could tell that the man had a real distaste for authority figures. Chen walked out
into the cavern and Jeff and Holly, trailed by the Secret Service, followed him along a walkway to a construction platform on the side of the control tower. Chen pushed a button and the platform rose until it stopped several feet above the control tower.

“We can see just about everything from here,” Chen said. “So, Congressman, how far did Miss Scarborough get in her explanation of our project?”

Jeff looked from Chen to Holly. She met his gaze with a direct one of her own. “Well, she was talking about mini black holes and other dimensions. But she didn’t say if you actually found anything.”

Chen smiled at Holly. “Her theories were dead on. Amazing, I might add. I was able to take what she discovered and amplify the effect.”

“You mean you created giant mini black holes?” Jeff asked. “Isn’t that dangerous? And what would you use them for?”

“Don’t worry, Congressman, we’re not making weapons here. Although I suppose some of the technology we’ve developed
could
be weaponized, just as almost any technology could be, if in the wrong hands. No, the black holes never get large enough to do any damage and they’re held in a very stable containment field. It’s what happens when you get them stable and spinning in unison that is the real breakthrough.” He rubbed his hands together as his lips slowly curled into an egotistical sneer.

“You see, we’re surrounded by the largest particle accelerator in the world. The accelerator is basically the engine that generates power for the entire machine. Of the many particles it creates, we are interested primarily in the subatomic black holes which serve as fuel for the device. Those black holes are collected in the dome you see before you. Without going into too much of the science and engineering behind it, inside that dome, the unstable black holes are stabilized
and set spinning close to the speed of light. The spinning and the immense warping of gravitational forces generated by millions of mini black holes create a vortex that bends space and time. And that vortex creates a gateway, an opening, if you will.”

“An opening to what, another dimension?” Jeff asked.

Chen rubbed his hands again. And then he smiled.

“Yes, an opening to the fourth dimension. You see, Congressman, what we’ve created here is a time machine.”

2 am EST, January 16, 2038

Air Force One Flying Over Richmond, Virginia, USA

“Mr. President, we’re running low on fuel.” said the pilot of Air Force One, tension clear in his voice. “There’s no response from air support and no refueling tankers are queued. We’ll need to land soon.”

“How far can we go, Colonel?” Paulson asked.

“We can continue flying for another two hours, sir. After that I’ll have no choice but to put her down. Do we have a destination yet?”

“I’ll get back to you on that one. Maintain your current heading for now.”

Paulson knew that if they landed, got out of the plane, and started breathing the air, they would die. But they couldn’t keep flying much longer. They needed to land and refuel or enter a secure location, one with a sealed air supply. But where the hell would that be?

“Cameron, can you come in here please?” Paulson said into his intercom.

Moments later Secretary of State Cameron Farrow entered the office. Paulson had known Cameron for years. He was
of mixed Asian and Caucasian ancestry, in his early seventies but looked at least twenty years younger, tall and fit. His dark hair was touched with a single streak of white, straight down the middle. He was a self-made man, starting from virtual obscurity and building a private government contracting business, while still in his twenties, into a powerhouse by the late 1990s. He had incredible, almost clairvoyant vision and a negotiating ability that allowed him to acquire contracts and place his business interests in the right places at the right times.

When he merged his company with Bechtel in the early 2020s it went from earning thirty billion a year to more than double that. Then just a couple of years later he gobbled up Halliburton, and earnings went into the stratosphere, making him one of the richest individuals in the world. Cameron served as Chairman and CEO until he moved into politics in the early 2030s, serving as Secretary of Commerce for four years, then as Secretary of State in the Diaz administration.

Paulson had a lot of respect for him, but they’d never been close, instead keeping a distant working relationship. This was fine with Paulson because there were many people he loved having a beer with but would never work with. Farrow was stern, professional, and a man to get things done.

Secretary Farrow had been briefed, as had everyone on the plane. Paulson felt they should know almost everything. There was no more need for national secrecy or security clearances. Hell, they were probably the only government officials left anyway.

“Cameron, we need to land somewhere safe to refuel quickly, or we need to find a base that has an independent air and water supply. We’re flying over Richmond now. Do you recall any bases near here that could offer us sanctuary?”

“Well, we could reach Naval Station Norfolk or Oceana,” he said. “But neither base offers the type of refuge you’re talking about. We could refuel, but we’d need the help of staff on the ground, which isn’t going to happen. We could try sending out a few of our own guys to do the refueling with the pilots offering direction. But there are no guarantees that it would be done correctly. Besides, even if we do refuel correctly, then we’re back in the same situation, which is just flying around. Plus, at some point the HEPA filters catching the virus and preventing it from entering the cabin are going to need to be changed.”

They had learned from the pilots that Air Force One was equipped with standard hospital-grade HEPA filters that would remove about 99.97% of the particles carrying the virus. That meant the air in the cabin could be refreshed at a normal rate of about fifteen times an hour, giving the passengers clean, breathable air.

“So we need to get this bird on the ground,” Paulson said. “But where if not the major naval bases along the East Coast?”

Farrow paced for a moment. Paulson could see the wheels turning in his head.

“There is a place. An old Cold War bunker that was updated and refurbished a few years ago. I don’t remember all the details, but I think it might be just the spot we need. Pull up your files on the Greenbrier, West Virginia.”

Paulson knew of the Greenbrier. He’d vacationed there with his wife many years ago. There was an old bunker, built under the hotel to house members of Congress in the event of a nuclear strike. He and Gretchen had even taken the tour. The bunker boasted a few ancient mainframe computers and a staging area with a podium where the president could address the country on broadcast television. It was basically a museum to the Cold War hysteria of sixty-plus years ago. Paulson didn’t know it had been refurbished.

“I thought that place was a museum.”

“Oh, it’s meant to look that way,” Farrow said. “But it’s fully operational and ready for government officials who need refuge. Folks like us. It’s hidden in plain sight, so to speak.”

A sharp one, that Farrow, always on the ball. Paulson was lucky he was here beside him during this crisis. Normally the Secretary of State would be at the State of the Union address or travelling overseas. But Farrow found out that Paulson was going to be attending the memorial service for the shooting victims of the University of Georgia massacre and he had asked Paulson if he could attend as well. Several of the students killed had been Chinese nationals and Farrow thought it was a good idea that he personally talk to their families. The last thing they needed was more conflict with China.

Paulson used his high-level access to pull up files on the Greenbrier. He studied the data with Farrow looking over his shoulder. The base was underground and equipped with decontamination equipment, a quarantine area, and living spaces and food for up to 400 people. It also had its own air filtering system.

“This looks perfect. However weather reports show a blizzard due to hit the area within the hour. Then there's the problem of getting everyone there from the airport.”

“
We can't do anything about the weather," Farrow said matter-of-factly. "As for this damned virus, since it's all over the place, we can’t breathe the air without filtering masks. Of course, this being Air Force One, we may have some on board. Unfortunately, standard masks may not be enough, according to the recent conversation I had with the CDC. The doctor told me that a common medical mask will offer some protection, but the virus could also enter the body through the skin and sweat glands. That means to be truly protected, someone would have to be wearing a full biohazard suit.”

Paulson clicked on the intercom. “Dr. Peebles?  President Paulson and Secretary Farrow here. We have a question for you.”

Paulson had met the doctor just a few times in passing. She was a permanent member of the Air Force One staff, flying with the president or vice president on a regular basis.

“How many gas masks and biohazard suits do we have on board?” he asked.

“Sir, we have over a hundred gas masks on board, but there are only eight full biohazard suits that offer complete body containment.”

“What? Why only eight?”

“Mr. President, the simple answer is budget cuts. I asked for more, but the suits are expensive with those new Med-AIs built in. I was lucky to get eight per plane. I was able, however, to get the upgraded HEPA gas masks.”

Shit
. Paulson exchanged a long look with Farrow.

There were sixty-seven people on board Air Force One tonight, not a full complement. Most who’d normally be on board had been in and around Washington watching the president’s speech. But eight bio-suits for sixty-seven people was not a number that Paulson wanted to hear.

“Damn budget cuts,” he growled. “Very well then; we’ll have to make do with what we have.”

“What are you planning, sir?” Dr. Peebles asked.

“We’ll be landing soon and we’ll need to go from the airport to a base in the mountains. The trip in the snow, on icy roads, is going to take about a half hour. The base has a full decontamination facility, and we should be safe there. The problem is getting everyone from Air Force One to the facility while minimizing exposure to the virus.”

“Well, the masks will filter the virus so that people can breathe without being infected,” she said. “The problem, however, lies with skin exposure.”

“Dr. Peebles, would thick clothing covering the entire body offer enough protection?” Farrow asked.

“It would be better than nothing,” she said.” If the clothing is thick enough and you have enough layers, then it would certainly prevent initial contact. But all casual clothing, even thick
winter jackets, are breathable, meaning they let air pass through. Those air passages are small enough for a virus to get through eventually. Yet with enough layers, you’d at least buy yourself some time.”

“How much time, Doctor, a half hour at least?” Paulson asked.

“It’s hard to say, sir. It would depend on the type of material and the number of layers. We’re lucky that it’s winter, so many of us may have a lot of clothes with us. If it were summer, we’d have no chance.”

Paulson wished someone could give him a straight and short answer just once this godforsaken day. He blew out a long breath, tamped down his temper, and asked, “So what do you recommend for maximum safety, Doctor?”

“Tell everyone to wear every piece of clothing that they brought with them—gloves, scarves, jackets, boots, everything.”

“I’m sure they have clothing in their bags in the hold. Would that be contaminated?” Paulson asked.

“That part of the plane is not pressurized and the air isn’t filtered,” Farrow said.

“If that’s the case,” Dr. Peebles said, “then all that clothing, if it hasn’t been contaminated already, will be when we land. No one can use it without being exposed to the virus.”

“Thank you, Dr. Peebles, that will be all for now,” Paulson said.

“Ah, sir . . . ” Dr. Peebles jumped in before Paulson could cut the intercom link. “About the eight bio-suits? Who’s going to get those?”

Paulson and Farrow looked at each with steely eyes. They’d both made decisions with the lives of men and women in the balance. Both knew they’d have to do the same here.

“We’ll be making that decision shortly, Doctor,” Paulson said.

“Thank you, sir.” The doctor’s voice broke slightly.

Paulson turned off the intercom link. “I wish we could keep the plane pressurized longer after we land.”

Farrow nodded. “Me too. But the pilots tell me that the pressurization systems are connected to the landing gear so that when we touch down, the cabin automatically depressurizes. They have no way of altering that.”

“Very well then, we have some choices to make.”

The Secretary looked squarely at Paulson with his dark narrow eyes. “You know what you have to do, Mr. President. We have to preserve what’s left of the United States government above all else. That means one of the bio-suits needs to go to you and at least two Secret Service agents for your protection. The other five should go to staff or elected officials based on seniority.”

“There are no other elected officials on board. And as for protection, I think one agent is sufficient.”

“I strongly disagree, sir. You need at least two. We have no idea what the situation is on the ground. There may be survivors at the base. We’ve seen what happens when people start to panic; they can become animals. No, we need to keep you protected at all times.”

“Very well then,” Paulson said, his head nodding in a slow bob. “Which two do you recommend?”

“Colonel Steve Demetrius is our most knowledgeable security expert, with over twenty years’ experience. He’s a good man—smart, strong, and able to handle diverse situations. He’s my first pick. Second would be Special Agent Dante Jones. He’s a bit younger than Demetrius and has about fifteen years of experience. He’s highly skilled in multiple weapons and is a former special ops.”

“I know both men; they’re good choices. So that leaves us five spots.”

“I would also recommend including a doctor in the group. Rosemary Peebles is the best choice. She’s trained in emergency medicine as well as surgery. She’d also know how to operate any of the medical and decontamination equipment that we’ll encounter at the Greenbrier base.”

“Good idea,” said Paulson. “So that knocks us down to four spots. I think you need to have one of those spots, Cameron. It’s crucial for this government that you remain safe. I’ll need your expertise when we get to the base and set up operations.”

“Very well, Mr. President. I accept and will do everything in my power to ensure that this country survives. Now for the last three spots.”

Farrow pulled up the roster listing everyone on Air Force One, along with their vital information including job titles and descriptions. They both scanned the list.

“Everyone is equally valuable in their own way,” Paulson said. “What criteria do you think we should use?”

Farrow stood and began to pace, his posture for thinking mode. “We have to account for the fact that none of the passengers without bio-suits may survive the trip from the airport. So the eight individuals in bio-suits may be responsible for trying to rebuild the government. I think you need people with the broadest knowledge base. Specialized experts just won’t cut it in this new world.”