Brett Battles - Exit 9

Tamara and Bobby’s job was simple: create and distribute video reports aimed at exposing Project Eden to the general public. Their talents were particularly suited for this. Both had been in the employ of PCN-Prime Cable News-before being recruited by the Hamiltons to help stop the Project.

Recruited was a relative term. What happened was Tamara and Bobby had run afoul of the Project while they were reporting for PCN from the front lines of the Sage Flu outbreak in April. Some of the Hamiltons’ people had helped them escape before they became casualties, too.

They spent several months at the Ranch, learning about Project Eden. Bobby had believed right away, but it had taken Tamara some time to accept the horrifying reality. It was at that point they’d been asked to put their skills to use, and act as the public voice of the resistance.

They’d been set up in San Antonio, Texas, with false identities. Tamara was now Deirdre Murray, and ran a secondhand shop called Deirdre’s Treasures. Bobby was Ralph Barber, a freelance handyman who never seemed to be freelancing anywhere. Instead, he and Tamara spent much of their time in the small studio built in the basement of Deirdre’s Treasures, where he edited the pieces, and Tamara wrote the scripts and recorded the narrations, albeit with her voice altered to avoid identification.

They had tried to get their early video reports into the hands of the established media, hoping they would be aired on networks everywhere. They had met with zero success. They had tried blogs next, but quickly pulled the plug on that when one of the bloggers who posted their video turned up dead within twenty-four hours. They decided, in consultation with Matt and Rachel, that the only thing they could do was post the videos on public sites and hope for the best. Unfortunately, the best had yet to happen.

“How the hell are we supposed to get around this?” she said. It wasn’t the first time she’d asked this. Not by a long shot.

“We have to hope that at some point, they’re going to miss one long enough that people will copy it to their computers and repost so it goes viral. If it starts popping up all over the place, they won’t be able to pull it all down.”

She sighed. “Well, let’s re-upload-”

Her cell phone rang. She answered it. “…this one now. And see if it sticks this time.” The name on the phone’s display read: UNKNOWN.

“Hello?”

“Tamara, it’s Matt.”

She switched to speakerphone. “Hey, Matt. You calling about the latest video? A whole nine minutes this time.”

“Nine and a half,” Bobby said.

“Sorry,” Matt said. “I didn’t know you were putting something up.”

Tamara couldn’t help but frown. They had sent Matt and Rachel an email like they always did before they posted. Matt had even responded with a simple “Thanks.”

Bobby leaned toward the phone. “Fifty-one views before it got pulled down, though I don’t know how many were able to watch it all. Did you get a chance to look at the script for the one we’d like to start this afternoon?”

“Whatever you were planning, you need to table it,” Matt said.

Tamara and Bobby exchanged a concerned look.

“What’s going on?” she asked.

“I need you to finish WC.”

For several seconds, neither of them could speak. WC did not stand for water closet. It meant Worst Case, as in the video that would be placed if the worst-case scenario occurred. In other words, the video that would describe to humanity what was happening to them. They had started it months earlier, but had not finished it in hopes it would never be needed.

His voice dry and tentative, Bobby asked, “It’s happened?”

“No. But if it does, it will be soon.”

“How soon?” Tamara asked.

A pause. “Days. Maybe a week. Not much more than that.”

“Are you sure?”

“About as sure as we can be. How soon can you have it ready?”

“We’ll get right on it,” she said, glancing at Bobby.

“A day or two, no more than that,” Bobby added.

“When it’s finished, I want you to close everything up and go to your backup safe house,” Matt ordered. The safe house was a location not even Matt knew, just Tamara and Bobby. “If it looks like things are going to shit and you can’t reach me, upload it. Don’t wait for me to give you the go-ahead.”

“Do you think…do you think we’ll have to upload it?” Tamara said.

The silence stretched out for what seemed like minutes. “Yes.”

The line went dead.

Tamara put her hand on Bobby’s, wrapping it around the side and squeezing tight. He looked at her, the reality of what appeared to be coming reflected on his face.

Then he nodded. “We’d better get to work.”

I.D. MINUS 87 HOURS

Ash had been sure they would have crossed the Arctic Circle and been homing in on Bluebird’s location by now, but the imaginary line was still several hundred miles to the north.

Their intent had been to fly from San Diego to Baker Lake in the middle of the Canadian territory of Nunavut, with a quick fueling stop in Winnipeg, just north of the US-Canada border in Manitoba. The weather, though, had a different idea.

Instead of lifting off from Winnipeg within an hour of landing, they ended up staying in the provincial capital for four nights, waiting out first a storm that passed through Manitoba, then one further north, cutting off their ability to get to Baker Lake.

Finally, the weather cleared enough for them to attempt the next leg of the journey. The flight was rough, but they were able to get into Baker Lake with only a few minor bumps and bruises. Waiting at the house that had been arranged for them to stay in were Gagnon and Wright, the two last members of their team.

Ash called everyone together for a meeting in the dining room, where he spread a map of northern Nunavut out on the table.

“The plan is for us to-”

“Excuse me, Captain,” Pax said. “I don’t mean to interrupt, but before we get started, I’ve been in contact with the Ranch and have some news I should share.”

“Of course. Go ahead.”

They all looked expectantly at the oldest member of the team.

“There’s no easy way to put this,” Pax began, “so I’ll just say it straight. There’s been a new outbreak.”

Voices over voices:

“It’s started?”

“Already?”

“Where?”

“When?”

“Should we go back?

Pax gave everyone a few seconds, then held up a hand, silencing them. “The outbreak’s in St. Louis. The good news is, it looks like it’s both isolated and contained.”

“So no cases anywhere else?” Chloe said.

“Not that anyone knows of. What Matt thinks happened is that there was accidental exposure, and that the so-called Implementation Day hasn’t taken place yet.”

“So we’re still on mission here?” Browne asked.

“As far as I’m concerned.” Pax looked at Ash. “Captain?”

“Absolutely. We keep going.”

“If the snow ever lets up,” someone threw in.

Ash pointed at a spot near the southern edge of the map. “This is where we are right now. Tomorrow, weather permitting, we fly to Grise Fiord.” He touched the spot on the map where the small village was. “After that, Mr. Gagnon will fly us out to our first location in a specially modified plane he has there.”

“What is the first location?” Chloe asked.

Ash looked down at the map. “Technically, we have three choices. Here, here, and here.” He pointed first at Ellef Ringnes Island, then Yanok Island, then Amund Ringnes Island.

“That’s a lot of ground to cover. We don’t have a lot of time. Any way to rule out any of them?”