Virus-72 Hours to Live (13 page)

"When are you going to make the
announcement?"

"Right after I talk to Lloyd and Dennis.

>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>

"Mr. President Admiral Hagerly is
calling."

"Thanks, Judy. Yes Admiral, I'm meeting with
Nancy and Roberto, whatever you have to say I suspect they'll need
to hear it too. If you don't object I'll put you on the conference
center."

"Yes, Sir."

"Go ahead," the president said as the
Admirals picture was coming up on the view screen.

"Mr. President I just met with the chiefs
and we reviewed our readiness. I can't contact the SECDEF; my
office hasn't been able to contact him."

"Yes, Nial. We haven't been able to contact
him for the last couple of hours, what do you have?"

"Sir, our readiness is decreasing by the
hour. Virtually all of the bases in each of the services have large
numbers of infected service men. I've ordered each of them to lock
down and quarantine the sick, and I've asked each branch to
consolidate the healthy and give us numbers of mission ready units.
The bad news is, our estimates are about 40% readiness and it
appears we're losing units every hour. From a numbers perspective,
the Army is the highest hit because they have the most soldiers.
Because they have so many units, they've been able to consolidate
the most capable units. The majority of their soldiers are on base
and they were in a better position to isolate them and provide
medical support. The Air Force has a much lower percentage of
servicemen on base and weren't able to mobilize as well. There are
scattered flying units, which have pilots available, but like the
Army, the numbers are decreasing. The Navy has two issues; the
bases are having a mix of problems similar to the Army and Air
Force. For the same reasons they have been able to isolate some
units and in other units, they are rapidly losing effectiveness.
The seaborne units are doing better although they have just as many
popup cases as the general population. They've been able to isolate
the sick faster and even though we are losing effectiveness onboard
many ships, we are able to consolidate on others. We're unclear
what is happening in Honolulu. The 3rd Fleet was in port and it was
hit hard. It's going to take a while to figure what status they'll
end up with."

"Admiral, take any units you can muster and
consider them mobilized for a national emergency, we're under
Martial Law. If you encounter, any functional National Guard units
consider them part of the US Military and put them under your
command. Until we locate the Secretary of Defense or find out his
status from one of his subordinates, I'm placing you in charge of
all military forces and reporting directly to me. Someone put the
proper paperwork together, so that can happen."

"Will do," said Eddy, who was in the back of
the room.

"Roberto, Admiral. Please work together and
make sure the nuclear weapons are secured and under control. That
also goes for our advanced weapon development programs. I don't
want anything getting lose."

"Yes, sir."

"Sir, I've asked for 1 VTOL crew of
volunteers to remain locked down at Quantico to provide
transportation for you. At Andrews, we have a crew for Air Force-1.
Some of the men have no families and have volunteered to be
available."

"Thank you, and thank them. At some point,
we'll be moving to Camp David so have the Marine-1 crew stand
by."

"Nial do your best to keep the military
functioning. We're having problems, but I think it might be naive
to think our adversaries won't take advantage of us. I know they're
likely having the same problems, but that might not stop them."

"Yes, sir. I'll stay on top of it," assured
the Admiral.

>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>

Dmitry reached into the fridge and pulled
out a cold beer, Dmitry was lucky, his Dad would always buy beer,
and it always tasted good in the afternoon. He never paid attention
to how many were in the fridge, so Dmitry could always take one or
two. It was a hot day and his cheap father only had an air
conditioner in the bedroom so he would be cool at night. He kept
the door locked and wouldn't let anyone in during the day. He only
turned the air conditioner on when he was home. What a shit head,
Dmitry thought as he walked across the small kitchen into the
living room. Some of the richer people in the building had mobile
units to clean and fetch things, but not his father; too fucking
cheap. Throwing himself down on the couch with the patchwork quilt
thrown on the back, he reached for the entertainment control. He
thought about how well he did over the weekend; it has been a good
one. Dmitry made $22,400 on drug sales and $18,200 on hookers. His
expenses were small, the drugs only cost two grand to make and pay
off the stupid guy who did the cooking in his basement. The girls
were paid by the hour and it only cost him $3,500. His crew was a
joke, give them a couple of the girls, give them some fun drugs and
throw in some liquor and they were happy.

Dmitry's only problem was Evgeny. He was a
dirty Russian mobster who wanted Dmitry's business. Evgeny was
worse than the people whom Dmitry took money from. He smoked
cigarettes, drank in bars, and he was disgusting but the most
hateful thing about him was that he wanted Dmitry's money. All of
the money belonged to Dmitry and no one could take it from him.
Every time the two of them met, Dmitry didn't want to be near the
guy. He ate too much, smelled too much and always wheezed. Who
knew, maybe if Dmitry ignored him he would die in short time. If
that happened, Dmitry hoped, it would be a painful ending, not
quick, but long and painful.

Dmitry had a plan to solve the Evgeny
problem. He wouldn't have to deal with him anymore if Dmitry's plan
worked out the way it was planned. He realized that once Evgeny was
taken care of, he would have someone else in line. That wasn't a
problem, just a means for Dmitry to get what should be his. Then he
would treat himself as he deserved. Money and power were all he
needed; one would provide the other. He would have mobile units; he
would have the best ones made, ones that would do everything for
him. Mobile units did what they were told, but he had to admit they
weren't any fun. If they didn't do what they were told, he couldn't
punish them. That would be frustrating, so he would to find someone
else to punish. He smiled for a minute that might be nice, finding
someone who he could punish whenever he wanted to.

The TV had only crap on, but for some reason
Dmitry always watched the one show, which had bitches fighting with
their jerk boyfriends. What a bunch of idiots, they don't deserve
to live, he thought, but he never missed watching the show.

The business was good, but Dmitry noticed
something was happening around him. He heard a lot of ambulances
and of people getting sick. Watching the news or reading the paper
was not how Dmitry got his news. What happened in other parts of
the city or country didn't matter. Dmitry cared only for what was
happening around him and he got that from the streets. How people
acted was always a clue to what was happening in his neighborhood.
Dmitry didn't know what was going on, but he sensed something was
happening it smelled like an opportunity.

Just as Dmitry was taking a sip of beer, the
door burst open and Dmitry's sister staggered in helping their
mother through the door. Their mother was barely walking and looked
even worse than normal. "Hey you shit head, just don't sit there
staring; help me," she yelled as the two made their way through the
kitchen to his mother's filthy bedroom.

Dmitry took the last swig of his beer,
listening to the noises coming from his mother's room. Why should
he care, all his mother did was work, she never was home to cook
for him or take care of him. His sister was even worse, all she did
was play every night and date another dirty Russian pig. Dmitry
knew they were having sex and that knowledge gave him a
stomachache, who would want to have sex with her. He smiled and
thought that maybe I should have a couple of my guys kidnap her and
put her to work; maybe she could make me some money. "Shit why
waste the time," Dmitry said to himself as he got up and walked
out, feeling he had put this life behind him. There was an
opportunity out there and he didn't need this disgusting place to
live anymore. As he walked out, he felt that a load had just been
removed from his life, he felt refreshed and excited about what he
was going to do next.

All Dmitry needed to make the brake clean
was to clean out his space in his storage area in the basement. The
space was about 10 feet by 10 feet and he had decided that it was
his. Anytime his mother or sister wanted to put something in it,
Dmitry said no, no discussion, no debate, just no. They knew him
well enough not to question him.

He unlocked the new padlock and before he
opened the door, he took a pair of surgical gloves from his pocket.
The lock was part of 'their world' and behind the hanging black
plastic was 'his' world' and he wanted 'his world' to remain clean.
He pushed back the curtain, switched on a light and took a deep
breath of his air while he walked in. After he

had entered and the black plastic stopped
moving, he felt at home. The single light bulb hanging by a cord
from the ceiling gave the room a clean look. This space was his and
no one dared to dirty it. On the right was a cabinet of souvenirs
and mementos. Small items he took from everyone that had done him
wrong. Some were personal, and some were very personal. What they
were wasn't important; what they represented was. Each item had
been important to someone. Now they didn't have it, but he did. In
the lower part of the cabinet was his backpack, which contained his
prize, his reward for being Dmitry. Each one thousand dollar bill,
was washed, ironed and stacked in neat piles of 25. He vacuum
packed them in their own sealed bags. Each of the 32 bags were tied
together in bundles of five each and stacked neatly in the
backpack.

It wasn't a great deal of money, but it was
his. Another year or two and he would have enough money to do
things his way.

Slinging the backpack onto his shoulder, he
walked around the table where he had removed some of his mementos
and walked to where his tools were. In the small cabinet, he kept
his selection of pistols and knives. Each one cleaned and wrapped
in their own vacuum-sealed bags. He wanted them clean and neat and
he didn't want any of them to have any residual evidence. Dmitry
picked up two of his favorite blades and two pistols. He picked up
his collectible 45-caliber pistol, which he put in its holster and
attached it around his waist. Then he admired his new wire gun,
which he had bought off the street. It was a new model still in
development and it was nasty. An electronic pulse pistol fired a
fine piece of wire. The nasty part was once the wire hit someone it
flexed and coiled. Going 1,800 feet per second, once it coiled it
caused damage 4-5 inches in diameter. The added bonus was, as the
wire coiled, it disintegrated and spread little pieces of shrapnel
around the wound. It wasn't intended for the retail market, but for
people that wanted to punish their victim. Now he was ready for the
opportunities he knew were coming his way. Tonight would be the
first step down that path.

>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>

Evgeny was still putting pressure on Dmitry.
He wanted him to be part of his crew and, of course, he wanted the
money Dmitry was taking in. Evgeny wasn't a big player in the DC
area, but he was considered a midlevel worker. He worked the
opportunities in his area and he controlled a good chunk of what
happened. He answered to one of the larger gangs in the area, but
he was free to sweep up any of the smaller gangs he could.

They were meeting in a nice condo in
Alexandria. Dmitry could bring six of his crew and Evgeny would
have six of his. The meeting was to find a way to work together,
but Dmitry knew it was really to pressure him to do what Evgeny
wanted. One thing Evgeny wasn't planning on was that Dmitry only
cared about what people did for Dmitry so Evgeny was irrelevant.
Dmitry was going to resolve that confusion that night.

Dmitry met his crew on the sidewalk in front
of the condo. They didn't meet each other with smiles and
handshakes, Dmitry didn't work that way. They waited and when he
walked by, they got in line behind him; that is how he worked.
Nothing was said they just followed him around the corner. As he
turned the corner and walked along the street to the front entrance
Dmitry was aware of activities in the street. It was chaotic; there
were ambulances, police cars all racing up and down. He saw a
couple of people walking or actually staggering along the sidewalk.
It wasn't normal and Dmitry knew any time things weren't normal
there were opportunities.

They walked into the lobby and he noticed
the guard desk was empty and he saw one guard slumped over the desk
in the guard office. An empty guard station was another point worth
noting, particularly for what he had planned.

Dmitry slowed as he walked through the lobby
and his team scurried around him so they could be in the back of
the elevator. Dmitry entered in the front and turned with his crew
neatly lined up behind him, the doors closed and they began the
quiet ride to the sixth floor. The doors opened with a faint wisp
of sound and after the hall was checked for surprises, Dmitry
walked down the hall with his crew in close pursuit. He reached the
door and one of his companions Artur reached forward and opened it
for him. Dmitry walked in and looked around the room. The living
room had been set up with a table large enough for six people to
sit on each side. Evgeny sat on the far end in front of the patio
door so he could see everyone who entered. There was an empty chair
at the end of the table near the door for Dmitry. Dmitry paused for
a moment taking it all in and indicated to his crew to find their
seats. While they did, he casually walked around the table towards
the sliding glass doors, which opened to the balcony. As Dmitry
walked, he began to speak, "I know things have not been going well
between us. I've come here today to fix that. I realize we can't
work separately and to be effective, we must work together under
one leader." While he was speaking Evgeny smiled, thinking his
problem was finally solved and he would be the winner. Just about
the time Evgeny's thought was ending and his smile was broadening,
Dmitry casually pulled his 45 out from underneath his coat and blew
a hole through Evgeny's head. Pieces flew over everyone sitting at
the table. The sudden explosion, compared with the conciliatory
words spoken from Dmitry left everyone in shock. One of Evgeny's
crew tried to pull out his gun, but before his hand reached the
butt, Dmitry blew another hole through him.