The Last Chamber (29 page)

Cartersville, Georgia

The clock on the McElroy cabin wall read 11:00 o’clock. It had been
dark since 5:30. The moonlight was blotted out by a mostly cloudy sky, making
the forest darker than usual.

Joe and Helen had been waiting on pins and needles, anxious to receive
word from Dr. Solomon. Joe had reminded himself and his wife that those things
took time. He imagined Jenny sitting over a microscope somewhere deep in the
CDC trying to figure out what it was they had taken to her. He wondered if that
was an accurate mental portrayal or if there were machines that would do the
work for her. He believed that there had to technology out there that could do
such a thing.

To pass the time and keep from worrying about what Dr. Solomon might
discover, they were both reading silently in the faint illumination of a few
lamps. The rest of the house remained dark. Helen and Joe enjoyed being in a
room that wasn’t so brightly lit, each feeling far more relaxed when things
were a little darker.

Their hound rested his old chin on the floor, droopy eyes looking up
occasionally or flicking to one side then the other when one of them turned a
page or shifted in their seats.

The clock continued to tick, second by second, seemingly not annoying
the home’s occupants. Suddenly, a cell phone on the end table next to Joe began
to vibrate violently on the hard surface. He set his book on his lap and picked
up the device. The caller ID displayed Jenny Solomon on it. He gave a quick nod
at his wife, who had an expectant expression on her face.

He hit the green button and answered. “Hey, Jenny. What did you find
out?”

“I need you to listen to me, Joe. I don’t know how much time we have.”
The grave tone in her voice caused him to sit up in the deep leather couch.

“I’m listening.” He cast Helen a concerned look.

“This thing is worse than Sean could have ever thought,” she began. “I
have already alerted the authorities, but I’m getting blocked by red tape at
every turn. They want search warrants, paperwork…I can’t get into that right
now. Soonest they could shut down Biosure would be a day, maybe two. And that’s
if they hurry.”

“Ok, Jenny. Slow down. What is it we’re dealing with here?” He could
hear her rushed breathing on the other end of the line.

“The easiest way I can describe it is that this is a mutated form of
the Spanish Flu virus from the early 1900s. It didn’t take me long to recognize
that the contents of that vial were live.”

“What do you mean, live?”

“Typically, vaccines are made from dead or an inactive form of
whatever it is that’s desired to be prevented. The shots are given to the
patient, and the patient’s body learns how to fight off the virus by beating up
on a weaker or dead form of it.”

“Ok,” Joe wanted her to know he understood that part.

“This sample wasn’t dead at all. The virus inside it was alive and
kicking. And what’s worse, it was a strain like nothing I’ve ever seen before.”

“I thought you said it was like the Spanish Flu.”

“Only in what it will do,” she explained. “It will cause a cytokine
storm inside a human body, but unlike other forms of the flu, this strain is
resistant to every antibiotic I’ve got. And I have them all.” She let the last
few words sink in.

Helen was staring at Joe, wanting an explanation. But she could tell
that whatever he was hearing wasn’t good.

“What should we do, Jenny?” he asked finally.

She didn’t hesitate. “We have to shut that facility down. None of
those shipments can be allowed to leave that building. If any of them get into
the public, even a few samples, the results could be catastrophic.”

“Maybe Emily Starks can help us out,” he thought out loud. “She has
been known to bend the rules on more than one occasion.”

“Whatever it takes,” Jenny agreed. “There’s one other thing, Mac.”

“What’s that?”

“This virus doesn’t just cause a cytokine storm to kill its victims
like the Spanish Flu. It is almost as if this virus was developed to kill the
healthy and the weak.”

“Meaning?”

“During the epidemic in 1918, the Spanish Flu mainly killed healthy
people. Their strong immune systems were their downfall. Those with weaker
immune systems managed to survive because their bodies didn’t overreact and
attack the virus. With this one, it won’t matter if their immune systems react
or not. The virus actively attacks tissue, feeding off of it and replicating
itself at an alarming rate.”

Joe didn’t need to be a biologist to know that didn’t sound like a
good thing.

Jenny kept talking. “Whoever developed this thing knew what they were
doing.”

“If this virus gets out into the public, what kind of damage are we
talking about?”

“In terms of the human population? Ninety percent. Give or take five
percent. I’ve already called my director. He is on his way down here right now.
We may be able to get the authorities over to Biosure before morning. But we
have to do something immediately.”

“I understand. Thanks, Jenny. Keep doing what you can. I’ll see what
we can do from here.”

“Alright, Mac.”

He ended the call and began looking up Emily’s contact info. His wife
was still staring at him, waiting for an answer.

“It’s the worst case scenario,” he said, not taking his eyes away from
the glass screen on his phone.

“How bad?” she wondered.

“Basically,” he tilted his head slightly and peered straight into her
eyes. “It could mean the extinction of the human species.”

Her eyebrows lowered in a frown. “I don’t understand. Why would
someone want to eradicate the entire planet?”

“Sean seems to think that whatever it is Alexander Lindsey is looking
for could be the ultimate cure for any illness, virus, even death itself. It
could be that he is planning on killing off almost anyone so he can start the
planet over, sort of like the story of the flood from the Bible.”

Joe could tell a sickening feeling was creeping up in his wife’s
throat. He felt it too as the words came out of his mouth.

“What are we going to do?” she asked.

“I’m calling Emily to see if she can help. Apparently, Jenny is having
some problems getting through to anyone.”

“Isn’t that why we have the CDC?”

Joe forced a quick snort of a laugh. His wife made a good point.
“That’s what I thought, too.”

A second later, he held the phone to his ear. After a couple of rings,
Emily’s smooth, commanding voice answered.

“Hey, Mac. What’s up?”

He decided to dispense with the pleasantries. “Emily, we need your
help.”

She yawned audibly over the phone before responding. “Sorry, I was
already in bed. What’s going on?”

Joe tried to relay as much of the information as possible to the Axis
director. He wanted her to hear everything and understand the gravity of the
situation. After he got done explaining it all, he sat silent for a few seconds
to wait for her reaction.

“You’re a hundred percent sure on all this?”

“Jenny wouldn’t have said it if it weren’t true, Em. It doesn’t look
good. We need to shut down that facility ASAP. And right now, you’re the only
one that can do it. Jenny’s stuck in their protocol train right now. But she
said we need to lock that place down immediately. Anything you can do to put
Biosure under siege for a little while until she can get the cavalry there?”

The line went silent again as Emily contemplated what their next move
should be. It was a dicey situation, and a huge leap of faith for her to take
based on second hand information. But Joe wasn’t one to overreact. She knew
that if Joe McElroy was concerned, the threat had to be real, especially if it
was coming from a researcher at the CDC.

“Okay, I’ll get a team over there and get the facility secured. We’ll
do it quietly. No need to go inside with guns blazing. I think we can do it by
simply blocking all the ways in and out. I doubt anyone will notice at this
hour. We can keep a lid on it until the CDC gets what they need to go in.”

“Sounds good, Em. Thank you,” Joe offered.

“No, Joe. If this is as bad as you and Dr. Solomon believe, everyone
will need to thank you.”

He blushed a little and leaned back. As he did, something startled the
dog, causing the animal to pick its head up quickly and snap to the left. Its
ears perked up as well, and instantly, the animal began to growl. The old hound
was a well-mannered dog unless there were strangers around. Over the years he’d
stopped paying attention to the random animals that would frequent the wooded
property. All were facts that caused concern on the faces of both the animal’s
owners.

“What is it boy?” Helen asked.

Joe shifted forward again to see what was bothering the dog. As soon
as he moved, the clock on the wall shattered behind him. The sudden noise was
accompanied by the cracking sound of glass from across the room. He
instinctively ducked down, risking a quick look at the window. A bullet hole
was in the center of it, and the round had barely missed his head.

“Joe?” Emily’s voice carried through the speaker of the phone. He was
still clutching it in his hand, having not yet ended their conversation. “Is
everything okay?”

Helen had seen what happened and immediately took cover out of the
window’s line of sight, careful to stay low on the ground next to Joe.

“Someone’s here,” he answered Emily’s question after a few seconds.
“If I had to guess, Biosure’s boss found out about the missing sample. And
they’ve sent their goons to take us out.”

“Can you hold out for a bit, Mac? I’ll get some support there as soon
as I can.”

Joe gave a sympathetic look to his wife. He’d not wanted her to get
into any danger. But the look she had on her face wasn’t one of fear. It was
resolve.

“We’ll be fine,” he answered. “Just get your team to the Biosure labs,
and if you can spare a few, send ‘em our way.”

“Will do, Mac. Hang tight.” The lights went out in the cabin just as
he hit the red button to end the call.

In the darkness, they could see red dots scanning the walls of the
living room from several angles. In the pale light of the cloudy sky, the dog
still stood erect, pointing at the door.

“Easy, boy,” Helen calmed the animal.

“Looks like they’ve got the place surrounded,” Joe noted.

“You okay, honey?”

He grinned underneath his beard. “Yeah. They don’t know what they’ve
gotten themselves into.”

Joe pushed against the heavy couch, sliding it towards the back wall
and off the area rug covering that part of the floor. At the same time, Helen
eased the coffee table toward the front of the house, also making sure the rug
was clear of the furniture.

Joe belly crawled over to the end of the rug and sat up. He grabbed
the end of it with both hands and yanked it back, revealing a portion of the
floor with a distinct outline cut into it. The square had been cut about two
feet wide, just big enough for a person to fit through. Helen stuck her finger
into a little groove cut into the wood and lifted up the trap door. A narrow
tube extended down into the footings of the house via a ladder of metal rungs.

An eerie silence crept over the house as Helen began to ease herself
down the ladder. The dog began barking loudly, breaking the strange quiet.
Immediately, windows started shattering as bullets rained through the panes and
into the cabin. The dog continued to bark but jumped back, momentarily startled
by the hail of gunfire. The only sounds coming from outside were muffled pops
from the gun barrels. Joe figured they had sound suppressors.

He slid over on his butt and grabbed the dog, forcing the animal to
submit by hugging it close to his chest. The canine struggled slightly but Joe
held the hound firm until he hovered over the escape tube.

“Here,” he said. “Take the dog.” He lowered the animal down towards
Helen who was already at the bottom standing in front of a metal door.

She stepped back up a few rungs and grabbed the dog with one hand,
letting their pet down to the floor near her feet with care.

Joe was sure to stay low as he shifted into position in the makeshift
hatch. He grabbed the edge of the rug and pulled it back in towards the center
of the room as he ducked into the trapdoor, letting the thing shut over top of
him.

 
Cartersville, Georgia

Joe hung onto the rungs of the ladder while Helen punched in a
five-digit code on an illuminated keypad. There was a quick buzz followed by a
loud click, signaling the vault-like door had unlocked.

The dog shot through the portal as soon as the door swung open. Helen
and Joe followed quickly behind, the latter sure to pull the door closed
behind.

Fluorescent lights flickered on automatically as they entered a room
constructed out of a steel shipping container. The space was twenty feet long
and eight feet wide. As the lights came to life, rows of various guns became
visible on the walls: shotguns, handguns, hunting rifles, and a few AR-15s.
Helen didn’t hesitate to start grabbing belts and straps, loading them up with
pre-loaded magazines from shelves beneath the array of weapons.

Joe began to do the same, but hesitated for a moment as he buckled a
belt around his waist. “Should we just stay down here and wait until they
leave?” he wasn’t worried for himself. Joe just didn’t want anything to happen
to his wife.

“And let them just wreck our home? I don’t think so.” The look that
accompanied her statement left no question in his mind as to what their course
of action would be. He strapped one of the assault rifles to his shoulder and
grabbed a few handguns.

“You thought I was paranoid to have this place put in,” she said as
she grabbed a compound bow and a quiver of arrows from a corner. “Not so
paranoid now, huh?”

“To be fair,” he argued, “you wanted this bunker put in just in case
the government collapsed. This is completely different.” He smiled as he
finished loading a magazine into a .40 caliber Springfield.

The dog sat on the floor, watching eagerly as his two masters
hurriedly moved around the room.

“Stay here, boy,” Joe ordered, extending his hand out to the dog. The
animal obeyed, watching the two of them head to the opposite door.
 

They passed into another, longer container lined with more fluorescent
lights on the ceiling. The second unit was empty, and much longer than the
other, stretching forty feet. At the end was another metal door like the one
they’d just gone through. Helen rushed to the other side of the bunker with Joe
close behind. She swung open the door, revealing a set of wooden stairs and a
storm door at the top. They quietly ascended the steps and eased open the
hatch, flashing their weapons in every corner to make sure it was clear.

They climbed through the opening into the tool shed, still wary of any
possible intruders. Various items like a leaf blower, rakes, sledge hammers,
gardening tools, mowers, hedge trimmers, and other items lined the walls and
floor of the 12x12 building. The muffled sounds of the gunfire could be heard
through the walls. Joe tiptoed over to the door and eased it open to get a peek
at the situation.

Outside, four men were in front of the house, and another four were in
the back. The ones in front were still firing a barrage of bullets into the
building while the men in the backyard were laying low on the ground, probably
covering a possible rear escape. Had Joe and Helen gone out the back door, they
would have been mowed down on site.

“There’s four in front and four in the back,” he apprised her.

“So, eight of ‘em, huh? Well, the first two will be easy. The last six
won’t be when they see what’s happening.”

He nodded, agreeing with her assessment.

She slid the handgun back into a holster and took the bow off of her
shoulder then removed an arrow from the quiver before placing the container on
the ground. Fitting the arrow in place, she lifted it up and stepped over to
the door.

“Grab one of those arrows for me. As soon as I let this one go, have
the second one ready.” He did as told and grabbed an arrow out of the quiver,
holding it next to her as he prepared to open the door again. “Ready?”

“Yep,” he smiled up at her from a crouching position.

She gave a nod and Joe slowly pushed the door open. The men were
reloading on the lawn, putting fresh magazines into their weapons. One of them
had started ascending the stairs with another guy in tow. The men were wearing
black sweaters and matching winter caps. Their faces had been painted in dark
camouflage. The last two guys in the yard spread out, holding the perimeter.
Those would be her first targets.

Helen drew the bowstring back and put the farthest man in her sights.
He had stopped in a position on the other side of the walkway leading up to the
steps. She held the string steady for a moment and let out a long breath. Her
fingers released the string, sending the arrow across the span in less than a
second. Before the tip of the projectile went through the man’s neck, she had
already taken the next arrow from Joe and was reloading. The other man saw his
companion drop to the ground out of the corner of his eye, and turned towards
the body. He must have noticed the arrow sticking through the man’s neck
because he crouched down and began scanning the woods beyond the twitching
figure.

His mistake was giving Helen a larger target. She wasted no time
loosing the second arrow, sending the blade deep into the man’s back. He
groaned loudly for a second before collapsing to his knees and falling on his
face.

Joe eased the door of the shed closed so they wouldn’t be seen. “Did I
tell you, you were good?” he whispered.

“About five times this week, honey,” she said equally as quiet. “Now
check the window over there and see what’s going on. If those men start
snooping around, we might be better of going back into the house.”

“The old backtracking move. I like it,” his teeth shone brightly in
the darkness. “But I want you to stay here. I can go back in, take a few shots
at them, and then you can pick them off from out here.”

She contemplated what Joe had suggested, and finally agreed. “Okay,
but be careful. Don’t go back in through the trap door if you hear anyone
inside.” He kept a wisecrack comment about her obvious warning to himself. He
quickly shuffled back over to the storm doors and disappeared inside.

Joe made his way back through the escape bunker, past the curious dog,
and back up the chute to where the ladder led into the living room. He put his
ear up against the bottom of the trap door and listened carefully, making sure
there was no movement above. There was nothing. The men Helen had killed had
probably distracted the ones who were about to enter the cabin. That meant they
would be looking for her, which also meant he needed to act fast.

He prodded the hatch up and slipped out, whipping his hand gun around
in a quick motion to make sure the room was clear. Everything was in tatters.
Every window was obliterated. Lamps, their leather chairs and sofa, the
computer monitor, it was all riddled with bullets. Even the logs of the cabin
were in splinters. Joe didn’t have time to worry about material possessions,
though.

He climbed out of the cavity and crouched low, making his way over to
one of the shattered windows. The men outside weren’t saying anything, obviously
aware that they should use silent communication. Joe stood slowly, careful to
keep pressed against the interior wall. He took a peek around the edge and saw
one of the men checking the body with the arrow through the neck. Another guy
from the back of the house had come around and was checking the other corpse.
Joe quietly slid the handgun back into its holster and pulled the assault rifle
around from his back. He put the stock against his shoulder and winced for a
second. It was where he’d been shot nearly a month ago. While most of the
damage done had healed, the skin and tissue were still tender.

He raised the weapon put the man standing closest to the porch sights,
aiming at the side of the man’s torso. Joe took in a deep breath of air then
let it out, much like his wife had done with the bow. He squeezed the trigger,
cutting down the man almost instantly. The blast from the gun’s barrel was the
loudest thing he’d ever heard, causing his ears to ring painfully, but he
remained focused on the attackers. Before the intruder closest to him could
react to the sound, Joe had already fired the next round, sending the man
sprawling over top of the corpse with the arrow in its back.

On the other side of the lawn, the last man remaining in sight dove
towards the cabin in a desperate effort to take cover. Joe turned quickly in
the henchman’s direction, but his shot was blocked by the wooden railing on the
steps. It must not have obstructed Helen’s view, because a second later, he saw
a blur go through his field of vision accompanied by a quiet whoosh. The man on
the receiving end of the arrow shot yelped for a second then fell onto the
grass just short of the walkway.

Joe allowed himself a devilish smile for a moment, despite his ringing
ears. His wife was a woman full of surprises. Just as he was starting to feel
better about things, he was reminded there were still three men left outside
their home. Bullets started ripping through the house again. Joe hit the floor
and tried to assess where the assault was coming from. It only took a second
for him to realize someone was firing from the rear of the house.

He belly crawled through the broken glass and splintered wood to the
closest end of the cabin, and into the laundry room. Joe sat up for a few
seconds, allowing his back to lean against the clothes dryer. Deciding he
needed more mobility, Joe set the rifle against the wall and withdrew his
pistol again. A couple of seconds later, the hail of metal stopped, leaving the
living room slightly more destroyed than previously.

Joe crept over to the nearest window and risked a peek outside. What
he saw caused him a great deal of concern.

No one was there.

Back in the shed, Helen had heard Joe firing the assault rifle,
picking off two men then dropping the fifth to the ground herself, the arrow
catching him in the upper part of the chest. She’d kept the door to the tool
shed cracked so she could see if anyone else came around to the front, but no
one did.

A few moments had passed when she heard the sound of more gunfire
coming from the back of the house. Bullets ripped through the remainder of the
front windows spraying out into the small field in front of the house. Whoever
was back there knew someone was inside the cabin.

Helen opened the door a little wider, shouldered the bow and quiver,
and slipped out into the cold air, making her way back around behind the shed.
Her eyes darted back and forth in the darkness, making sure there was no other
danger lurking in the shadows. She retreated back into the darkness of the
forest, taking cover behind a pine tree before moving further towards the rear
of the house. One thing her few friends didn’t know about her was that Helen’s
father had taught her everything he knew about hunting when she was a child.
She knew to be careful as she moved through the woods, making sure she didn’t
step on any twigs or too many dry leaves. Exposed roots and soft dirt was the
best thing to walk on. But in the middle of December, leaves and sticks were
everywhere. Even as she snuck through the shadows, she kept the bow ready,
still electing to go with stealth over the convenience of a handgun. As long as
there were more of them than her and Joe, she needed to be as silent as
possible.
 

The men she was hunting must not have had the same training because
she heard a short snapping sound about thirty feet away inside the trees. Helen
crouched down, peering through the trunks. To her right, she had a clear view
of the back yard. Even with the cloudy sky, the full moon provided a little
backlight. No one was on the lawn, meaning whoever had just been shooting had
retreated into the woods.

She stayed low, keeping the bow horizontal with an arrow notched. She
heard the sound of some leaves rustling from the same direction as before. The
noise caused her to draw back the bowstring instinctively. Sure enough, one of
the assailants was squatting behind a thick oak tree about thirty feet away.
The man’s face was painted black. He was gripping a small sub-machine gun, but
she couldn’t tell the make, not that it mattered. She drew the string back
farther and took aim, putting the center of the man’s chest in her sights.

The arrow flew true, through the tree trunks and undergrowth, striking
the man just below the throat. He let out a groan and gripped the shaft as he
fell over sideways. The noise drew the attention of the other two men hiding in
the forest, and they immediately opened fire, spraying a barrage of rounds
around the vicinity. Helen had ducked behind a pine tree’s narrow trunk as soon
as she’d loosed the last arrow, only risking a peak around the bark to ensure
the man had gone down. She pressed her body tightly against the tree as the
metal rounds thudded into the wood around her. A few struck one she was leaning
into, but the wood was too thick for almost any bullet to penetrate.

After a few seconds, the attackers must have run out of ammunition
again because there was a pause in the assault. Helen heard the familiar sound
of one of the Springfield’s firing from near the house. She risked a glance
over and saw the flash from the end of the barrel as Joe popped off six shots.

Inside the cabin, Joe kept under cover until the men outside had
stopped firing into the cabin. He thought he had heard the sound of someone
grunting, followed by another stream of gunfire. Only this time, the bullets
weren’t coming his way. It could mean only one thing: the men were firing at
his wife.