Russell Brooks - Pandora's Succession

Hiller’s stomach growled as the UH-60 Black Hawk bobbed through some turbulence. He hadn’t eaten a full meal since he left the Congo-Sudan border. Now all he thought of was some fall-off-the-bone ribs, some potato salad, maybe some Cajun-style chicken, and a cold beer straight from the keg. While this imaginary meal kept his mind wandering, the pilot spoke to him. Hiller didn’t even pay attention and he straitened his headset.

“You mind running that question by me again?” said Hiller.

“I asked you if this is the first time you’ve been to the CDC compound?” asked the pilot.

“Yeah,” Hiller answered.

“Then I’ll update you on a few things. When I set us down, you just walk up to the gate where the guard will let you in. Dr. Cole will meet you outside the domed tent so you won’t have to go inside. You just hand him the package and come back. Any questions?”

Hiller smiled. “Will I be chased by rhinos?” The other SEALs with him laughed.

“You’re funny, but no. All wildlife has been temporarily displaced in accordance to agreements between the Ugandan and American governments. They even had to spray the ground with a very powerful insecticide to kill any insects on the surface and the ones in the ground. They couldn’t do much about the flies though.”

Hiller looked at the metal briefcase. “Damn, this weapon must be some real contagious shit.”

“I don’t know any more about it than you do, sir,” the pilot answered. “Once whatever in the package is neutralized, and hopefully soon, the CDC will have to haul ass out of here before the animal rights and the other environmentalist groups start poking around.”

The Black Hawk swooped down from the night sky outside the fenced area. Hiller got out carrying the briefcase and saw the domed tent. The area wasn’t as big as he expected, maybe slightly smaller than a soccer field. It was was bordered by a twelve-foot high, barbwire fence. A twenty-foot wooden tower to his left, inside the fenced area, had two guards posted, accompanied by ten others on the ground. The six flood lights-swarmed by hundreds of insects-kept the grounds bright.

One of the guards opened the entrance just as a white coat emerged from the dome’s double-doorway access. Hiller met the white coat halfway.

“Dr. Cole?” he asked loudly, above the noise from the propellers.

Cole nodded. “Warrant Officer Hiller?”

Hiller handed Cole the metal briefcase and the key. “She’s all yours.”

When Cole reached the doorway and pulled it open, the cool air greeted him. He walked towards the isolation chamber that was at the center of the dome where two of his colleagues were. It was twenty feet in length and width but only nine feet high.

“All right guys, we got the package. Let’s get started,” Cole said. It was only then that it dawned on him that they were not dressed in their HAZMAT gear. “Why aren’t you two dressed?”

“It won’t be necessary,” the one nearest to him answered, as he rushed toward Cole while he opened his lab coat to grab the hidden D-W73 Cold War era Russian Air Force Officer’s Dagger, and plunged it into Cole’s stomach. With his free hand, he covered Cole’s mouth to muzzle him. He turned the blade and pulled upwards, maximizing damage to his internal organs, before he released him and let him drop to the ground.

The assailant picked up the briefcase and handed it to his partner who carried it over to a table in front of the isolation chamber, unlocked it with the key, and opened it. The assailant went to another table with a communications port and a telephone which linked him directly to Entebbe Base. He picked up the phone and there was a ringing on the other end.

“Entebbe Base,” came the reply.

“We’re under attack…send help…quick. They’re Russian-” He screamed loudly and hung up. The assailant then turned to his partner. “Was I convincing enough?”

His partner stood beside the open briefcase. “You couldn’t have been more perfect.” He took the fluorescent-green vial and let it drop gently on the ground without breaking. He then hit the alarm button. The siren was heard for miles.

It was not too long after, that ten of the guards burst through the doorway with their assault rifles in position. They fanned out to cover the inside of the dome.

“What’s the emergency?” yelled the leader to the two scientists, and then he saw Cole’s body with the dagger protruding from his stomach. His assault rifle shot up immediately. “Both of you, hands in the air. Do it, now!”

This brought the other guards running. Within seconds, they had encircled the two scientists.

“I repeat,” yelled the leader. “Put your hands up, or we will be forced to shoot you.”

The two white-coats didn’t obey him, but instead looked at each other and smiled. “For The Promise?”

“For The Promise.” The partner already had the vial under the heel of his shoe. As he slowly raised his hands along with the assailant, he breathed his last breath and crushed the vial. It wasn’t long before what felt was millions of microscopic teeth tearing away at the flesh, starting with his foot and then moving to the rest of his body. His body convulsed erratically as he dropped to the ground, as his vision was clouded by a fluorescent green dust. He faintly heard the screams from the guards before his eyes burst and oozed out of their sockets along as the metallic taste of blood filled his throat. The pain caused him to scream a voiceless scream as he felt the inside of his body being torn apart.

The SEALs were no more than three miles away when they were notified of an attack at the CDC compound. A few minutes later, the base was below them, as they made their descent to give air support, only to see the soldiers hightailing out of the dome.

The pilot opened the side door from up front, while Hiller and two other SEALs covered the doorway, taking aim with their assault rifles. The multiple screams preceded the green-colored smoke that exploded from the dome’s entrance, making its way to the Black Hawk.

Hiller jumped back and the other two followed his example. “Shit! Pull up, pull up!”

They were not able to rise fast enough before the plume enveloped the helicopter. Even with the propellers at maximum, it couldn’t slow down Pandora’s momentum as the SEALs all suffered the same fate as the men below. Nothing was left of their bodies by the time the Black Hawk crashed and burst into flames.

CDC compound, Northwest of Entebbe, 9:50 PM

Fox stared at the charred remains of the helicopter as he stood a dozen feet away. Warrant Officer Jack Hiller and he went back a few years, to the time when he was recruited into the CIA. Shit. Only God knew how many more he would lose in his quest to stop Ares. He squeezed Hiller’s dog tag in his left hand and felt the edges dig into his palm. Hiller was the closest friend he had-pals both on and off the job. In his other hand he had the envelope he nearly gave to Downing. Fuck it. And with that thought he tore up the envelope and threw the pieces into the wreckage.

“Hey, buddy,” said Walsh as he approached. “I’m sorry about your friend.”

“I’m fine. You don’t have to apologize.” Fox turned away from the wreckage. But he was far from being all right. They walked towards the dome. “Any leads yet?”

“The General’s all over it. All of the airports are on high alert and there are checkpoints on every highway leading from here, but I doubt that at this point we’ll ever catch who did this.”

“Yeah, whatever. Hopefully they died along with the rest of them.” Fox couldn’t help thinking about what his superior had told him earlier about his emotions interfering with his work. Why didn’t I kill the guard that killed Sveta while I had the chance? The names and faces of every Ares operative would be known.