Linda Andrews - Extinction Level Event

The colonel sauntered along the perimeter, pausing in front of the two folded flags displayed on the mantle between the portraits of her husband and son in their dress blues. He quickly clasped his hands behind his back. “Your record didn’t state that your husband was a career military man.”

Mavis flattened her palms against the wood table. She seriously doubted he had a high enough security clearance to see her record. Or he’d have known her husband had mustered out after eight years. “You know the Marines, Colonel. They guard the Embassies in all sorts of exotic locations.”

“Yes.” Smoothing his rumpled uniform, the colonel cast one last lingering glance at the vase before drifting his attention to her. “Posted mostly to the Middle East and Asia, from what I can gather.”

She had been posted there, not her husband. As part of an international team, she’d searched for biological and chemical weapons. Only later, she had been loaned out to the International Atomic Energy Agency to check for nuclear weapons programs. Her husband Jack had either been watching their son, or guarding her back. “Have you served in those regions?”

“Only in the trenches.” A smirk distorted his moon-pie face. “I couldn’t shake the sand out of my boots long enough to sight-see.”

Right, like she believed the doofus had ever seen combat. Those veterans wore that primal edge like a second skin. Still, she pasted on her smile and felt it settle into place. She hadn’t survived twenty years in the Weapons of Mass Destruction program to be rattled by a lying puke. With her foot, she kicked the chair out a little more than gestured to it with her head. “Desert Storm?”

“Among many others.”

Sure. She’d check his service record, later. Confirm that the man was a snake.

“Colonel Lynch.” The sergeant major came to attention. “The house is secure, Sir.”

The colonel gave a half-assed salute. Skirting the couch, he eyed the family photographs on the wall. He paused and straightened the picture of Sunnie. “And the girl?”

Mavis rubbed the goosebumps from her arms. Sweet Jesus! Her niece had been barely twelve in that picture. Sure she’d started to develop into a woman, but for him to look at her with a flicker of lust… Mavis cleared her throat. She’d have to talk to Miles if he’d made the Colonel her military liason. Her attention flicked to the sergeant major.

The enlisted man nodded slightly as if knowing she was thinking about him. “The girl is wearing headphones and typing on the computer.”

Like a typical teenager. Or so the tone implied. The sergeant major was a good man. Mavis would see that he served as her new liaison.

The colonel removed his hand from the portrait and wiped it on his slacks. “Stand in the hall, this is top secret information, and we can’t have a little kid eavesdropping. She’d probably post it on Facebook, and then there’d be hell to pay.”

“Yes, Sir.”

Post the fact that the Rattling Death might be back? Surely, she couldn’t have heard right. They wouldn’t keep such knowledge to themselves. Had they learned nothing? Bracing her hands on the table, Mavis rose in her seat. “Why would posting a possible outbreak on Facebook be a problem? I can have a press release ready to go in hours.”

Colonel Lynch grabbed the proffered chair, turned it around and straddled it. The smirk nearly swallowed his beady eyes. “The President himself has decided it is in our national interest to suppress the information.”

“Our national interest?” Her knees buckled and her butt hit the chair with a thwack. Unbelievable! Could those idiots in Washington really be such blockheads? “We’ve lost one-hundred-five million people already. If this outbreak is just half as deadly, then more than half of our citizens will die. By reinstating the public gathering ban, we can save lives.”

Shrugging, Colonel Lynch wet his fingers and rubbed at the red stain on his slacks. “Our economy can’t sustain another hit. Already, thousands of companies are teetering on the verge of bankruptcy, and Congress is considering bailing them out. We can’t have a panic and risk weakening the dollar further.”

“I’m talking lives and you’re spouting economics.” Mavis rubbed her face with her palms. Her skin felt hot to the touch, but she boxed up her anger. She would not lose her temper. She would not give the jerkwad the satisfaction. “The American people have a right to know.”

“May I remind you that America is under martial law, Doctor?” He waved his hairy knuckled hand in the air as if the Bill of Rights were a gnat to be swatted. “Breaking your oath is a treasonous offense, punishable by death.”

Son of a bitch! Mavis clutched the bottom of her chair to keep from launching off the seat. “I am well aware of my oath, Colonel Lynch.” To her country and to the Constitution. Nowhere had there been any mention of corporate profits and capitalism at any cost. Nowhere. Still, she was smart enough to recognize the power that came with money.

And a uniform. Especially these days.

Leaning forward in her chair, she looked him in the eye. “Neither the government’s nor the military’s authority is absolute.”

“Is that a threat, Doctor?” His lips curled at the edges.

God, could the man be any denser? “It’s a prophecy, Colonel. People are going to see their loved ones die from the Rattling Death while the government remains mum. There will be panic in the streets. The American people will turn on the soldiers—your men.” As if the man cared about anyone but himself. “Just as they did in Seattle.”

The name fell like a hand grenade between them—the Fort Sumter of the new millennium. Americans had risen like a giant from a coma. They’d stormed bunkers holding politicians and the rich safe from the infection. They’d overrun ships and submarines taking control and obliterating the strongholds barred to them. The city had literally burned to the ground. Thousands dead, everyone homeless.

And all because a medical supply ship had been delayed due to a storm.

An accident.

If the people learned the government deliberately kept silent…

“Seattle was the Navy’s mistake.”

God, he was such an idiot! Mavis smacked her forehead. What kind of angel protection racket did stupid people have that allowed them to survive?

“But that is academic at the moment, Doctor.” He paused as if he’d made a great joke with his word play. “No one in the U.S. has died since the last case nearly two months ago.”

“Eight weeks, Colonel.” Long enough for a virus to mutate.

He tugged on the face mask hanging around his neck. “So far the cases have been contained in Asia, and the government wants to keep it that way.”

Like that was possible. Heaven help anyone on that task force. “What does the government want me to do?”

Setting the metal briefcase on the ground, Colonel Lynch leaned back in his chair, laced his fingers behind his head, and rested his left ankle on his right knee. “If you’ll pack your things, I’ll let Surgeon General Arnez explain everything.”

Mavis blinked. Miles Arnez knew her better than to think she’d leave her house. That’s why he’d sent the silver case. Her silver case. “Excuse me?”

“Of course.” The colonel nodded dismissively and his attention wandered back to the fake Ming vase. “I’ll just wait here while you pack. Let the sergeant major know if you need anything.”

She released her chair and shook the feeling into her fingers. “No, Colonel. You’ve misunderstood me.” Not for the first time, and unlikely the last either. “I am not leaving.”

“Mrs. Spanner—”

“Doctor Spanner.”

“Doctor,” Colonel Lynch lowered his arms. “The government requires we get you to Gamma Base to begin your work.”