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Authors: Richard McSheehy

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BOOK: The Viral Epiphany
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Several hours later, as it approached land in the early darkness of the evening, the
Seawolf
quietly slowed and surfaced. It passed by the New London Ledge Lighthouse unacknowledged, and then slowed to less than ten knots as it entered New London harbor. Its low-lying black hull and dark gray sail with its camouflaged periscopes were nearly invisible in the dim light to any chance observer on the shore.

           
Thirty minutes later, after tying up at the New London dock, most of the crew were given six hours liberty, along with strict orders to be back on the boat and ready to set sail by 4 a.m.
 
The crew were well-trained and well-disciplined; however, after two months at sea aboard the submarine they were eager to enjoy whatever New London had to offer.
 
New London, however, is not renowned for its nightlife, and, eventually, most of the men found their way across the Thames River and settled for one of the bars or clubs on Bank Street.
 
The simple experience of moving around in open space and breathing fresh air was enough to make the men almost euphoric, for a while at least. Then, because they were submariners and unlike other Navy sailors, they all headed back to their boat.
 
The crew, to a man, were all present and accounted for on board the
Seawolf
at 3 a.m. and all, except for the Officer of the Deck, were below, at their duty stations. The OOD, as he was called, remained at his watch station on the bridge, in the submarine’s sail, where he maintained his lookout for the mysterious VIPs that were mentioned in the orders.

           
There was no sign of activity on the dock next to the submarine and the OOD pulled his coat a little more tightly about him to ward off the cold and damp of the river air.
 
He turned and walked to the other side of the bridge, more to keep warm than for any other reason, and looked away to the south, across the river.
 
The city was quiet at this time of night and most of the lights were off in the homes and businesses.
 
As he watched he suddenly noticed five bright, white lights appear in the sky. They almost looked like stars, but they were too bright – and they were moving, and changing positions. They appeared to be coming towards the sub. He continued to watch the lights, wondering whether to call the commander, and, as he considered what to do, he began hearing the distinctive sound of rotors, helicopter rotors.
 
Two minutes later five Marine Corps VH-71
Kestrel
helicopters roared overhead.
 
The four helicopters on the right side of the formation continued flying straight ahead while the remaining helicopter performed a large circling maneuver and returned, hovering over the dock next to the
Seawolf,
and then lightly settled down on the hard concrete surface.
 
As soon as the helicopter landed two U.S. Marine Corp Humvees raced from the dark shadows between the buildings on the dock and stopped about thirty feet from the helicopter.
 
Six Marines, each in formal dress uniforms, jumped out of the Humvees and stood in a straight line leading from the door of the helicopter to the submarine’s gangplank.

           
“Holy crap,”
the OOD whispered, then he picked up the microphone and announced, “Captain Andrews to the bridge, Captain Andrews to the bridge.
 
Attention on the boat. Prepare to receive visitors.”

           
President Cranston and his wife, Grace, climbed down the helicopter’s stairs and walked towards the submarine as the President saluted the Marine guards.

           
“Is that the
Seawolf
?” Grace asked her husband, “I thought it would be bigger.”

           
“Don’t worry, dear,” the President said, “you’ll be fine.”

           
Before the couple had reached the gangplank Captain Andrews had come up to the bridge and, after taking one look at the Marine Corps helicopter he had quickly climbed down to the deck.
 
He stood at rigid salute as the President approached and came aboard.

A lone sailor piped the President aboard and as the President and his wife neared the seaman he saluted and said, “Welcome aboard
Seawolf,
sir!”

           
The President returned his salute and continued walking towards the sail, with the submarine’s commander, while an announcement was made over the submarine’s public address system, “Now arriving: the President of the United States and Mrs. Cranston.”

A minute later he and his wife had climbed down into the hull and gone forward to the control room.

           
“Sir,” Captain Andrews said as the President and his wife gazed at the vast array of displays, lights, and switches, “we are ready to get underway at any time.
 
We are awaiting your orders.”

           
President Cranston continued looking around at the cramped control room, not really paying attention to any of the instrumentation that made up the ultra-sophisticated combat control center of the submarine. There seemed to be barely enough room to turn around.
 
He looked at his wife and saw her shaking her head in disbelief.
 
He set his lips tightly for a moment before he replied, then he said, “Let’s get ourselves situated first.
 
Where is our stateroom?”

           
“Stateroom, sir? Well…you can have mine.
 
It’s the largest room on the
Seawolf.
 
I hope you find that it meets your needs.”

           
“Let’s have a look,” President Cranston said, and he and his wife followed Captain Andrews through the narrow passageway until they arrived at his room. The room was about twelve feet long by six feet wide.
 
It had two single beds, a small desk, and two armchairs, plus a small bookcase and a television that was connected to a DVD player.
 
It didn’t have a private bath.

           
“This is it?” the President said.
 
“This is the biggest room you have?”

           
“Yes, sir.”

           
President Cranston turned to Grace and saw the tears beginning to form in her eyes.
 
“I can’t do this, Alan,” she whispered. “I can’t. You know how I am about small spaces!”

           
“Honey, you have to!
 
There’s no choice. Look, why don’t you just take one of your pills for now, OK?
 
You’ll get used to it. Trust me.
 
Besides, we really have no choice.
 
We have to go, right now!
 
OK?”
 
Grace nodded her head without saying anything. Instead she walked over to one of the beds and sat down and began sobbing quietly.

The President turned back to the Captain.
 
“Listen, we have to get moving.
 
Right away.
 
Understand?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Captain, we are facing a grave, national emergency.
 
I’ll explain after we get underway. This submarine is going to play a vital role as my command platform.”

“Yes, sir.
 
I understand.
 
Sir, what is our destination?”

“Nowhere. Anywhere. It doesn’t matter. Just get us out of here and submerge. We need to go deep. That’s where it’ll be safe. It’s the only place we can be safe.
 
Deep under the ocean.”

“Yes, sir.
 
I’ll set course for the mid-Atlantic.
 
How long will we stay submerged sir?”

“How long can you stay under without surfacing?”

“Months, sir.”

“And you can generate your own air and water supply? You are completely self-contained?”

“Yes, sir.
 
We can stay under for months, relying on nothing at all from the surface.”

“Good,” he said glancing over at Grace who was wiping her eyes, but apparently not listening to them. “Let’s go.”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Twenty-Eight

           
Randy Jacobson received his letter in the mail three days after President Cranston and his wife set sail on the
Seawolf
.
 
Randy, a twenty-eight year old assistant manager at the Big Apple Pizza on New York City’s 49
th
Street, had a wife and two children.
 
They lived in a cramped apartment in Greenwich Village, and, between the two of them, barely made enough money to survive.
 
Randy took the bus every day to work.
 
They had scheduled their days so that he worked afternoons and evenings while his wife, Ann, worked part time in the mornings at a nearby 7-11 store.
 
Now, with Asian Fever cases becoming more numerous in the city fewer people had been coming into the Pizza shop.
 
Ann had said the same thing about the 7-11.
 
They were both worried about their jobs.

           
Randy looked at the official-looking envelope.
 
It was from something called UNAPS, an organization he had never heard of before.
 
He first thought it might be just another request for a donation from some charity and he was about to throw it away unopened, but it felt heavier than he expected.
 
He could also feel something hard inside the envelope, like a credit card.
 
He decided to open it and see.
 
There was a letter inside and four shiny black plastic cards, one for each member of his family. Each card had a blue circular logo with a white shield in the center surrounded by five multi-colored, concentric rings. On the shield were the letters UNAPS.

           
Throughout all of the cities and towns of the United States people were receiving similar letters in the mail today and each letter contained a set of plastic cards. Some of the cards were shiny black, like Randy’s, but others were different colors. There were, in fact, five different colors of cards that had been distributed.
 
The colors of the cards matched the colors of the concentric rings on the UNAPS logo: Black, for the inner circle, then red, green, yellow, and finally gold for the outer circle.

Each letter carried a notice at the top in large bold print telling the reader to turn on their radio or television at noon today for an important announcement from UNAPS.
 
The letters also stated that, until further notice, these “locality access cards” must be carried at all times.
 
By order of the UNAPS medical officer in charge, Dr. Charles Goodfellow, these cards would now be used to authorize entrance to or exit from every newly designated, “containment area” in the country.
 
Randy looked at his watch.
 
It was almost noon.
 
He stood up and turned on the television.

 
“My fellow Americans,” Dr. Goodfellow said with a reassuring smile as the special announcement began, “I am Doctor Charles Goodfellow of the United Nations Agency for Population Safety.
 
We as a nation, indeed the entire world, are on the edge of a crisis never before encountered by the human race.
 
Some parts of the world, for example South Asia, have been extremely hard hit by the disease that is commonly referred to as Asian Fever.
 
In our own country, the state of Hawaii has had many more victims of this disease than anywhere on the U.S. mainland.
 
However, there have also been significant numbers of cases here as well and we must now take very serious steps to guard ourselves from the out-of-control spread of the disease that occurred in Honolulu with extremely disastrous results.

           
In response to this emerging threat, President Cranston has requested that I lead the effort to meet this disease head on and I have been authorized to use any and all means at my disposal to protect the people of this country and to make our land safe again. I hope to earn your confidence as we, as a team, fight against this threat to our very survival.
 
Never before in history: not in war, not in natural catastrophes, not in the plagues of the past, have we ever faced a threat such as this.
 
However, with your compliance, and I know I can count on that, and with your American willingness to sacrifice and go the extra mile, we will win!

           
I expect that all of us will have to make many sacrifices before this is over and, let me assure you, I will be there standing beside you every inch of the way!
 
Today, we have taken our first major step to combat the spread of Asian Fever. By this time, every American citizen should have received a color-coded identification card bearing the UNAPS logo.
 
These cards are now required for entry or exit between adjacent containment areas.

BOOK: The Viral Epiphany
5.15Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
ads

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